About this time, that is, towards the end of 1790, the Comtesse

Vincent, who had completely recovered her health, left Ukrania, and

joined her husband at Warsaw. It was impossible to prevent her return,

and equally impossible to conceal from her the growing intimacy between

the Lord Chamberlain and the Princesse de Ligne, whose reputation of

coquetry and beauty had already reached her ears.

The Comtesse Anna adored her husband, and in spite of all his efforts

to hide the truth from her she soon discovered it, and absolutely

refused to admit the Princess within her doors. “I shall never

consent,” she said to her husband, “to receive the woman who has robbed

me of your affection, whatever may be the nature of your intimacy.” The

Count, very much surprised at this unexpected resistance on her part,

vainly endeavoured to dispel his wife’s suspicion, but when Hélène

called on the Countess she found the door closed. Mortally wounded by

this affront, she gave way to all the violence of her character; she

declared to the Count that she insisted on his compelling his wife to

receive her, adding that she could never rest under an insult that

dishonoured her in the eyes of the world. The Count, after trying in

vain to calm her, finally flew into a passion, and after a terrible

scene abruptly left her. Utterly upset by the manner in which the Count

had left her on the previous day, Hélène sent him the very next morning

these few lines, written in such a state of agitation as to be almost

illegible:--

“I am writing to you without knowing how to begin. What a scene! I

am still quite unnerved by it; you have left me, abandoned me, and

nothing remains to alleviate my despair. I am alone in the world. I

have neglected my friends, broken all ties, burnt under your eyes all

the proofs of the affection which my husband once bestowed on me. I

have destroyed secrets, confidences, assurances of tenderness from the

friends of my childhood, and yesterday you retracted the few words of

affection which have at times escaped your lips. Who will console me in

my affliction? I leave it to you to imagine what remains after this.

Good-bye, my dear Vincent; in any case, should I meet you again, you

will always be the eternal object of my affections, and should nothing

bring you back to me, that of my eternal regrets. In any case you alone

will occupy all my thoughts, and possess till death all my affection.

“If you are determined never to see me again, return my letters, and

at the end of this one write: _Adieu_. This sentence, to be decreed by

your hand, is the only favour I solicit from you.”

This note was returned to the Princess, a few minutes later, by the

messenger who had taken it. The seal was unbroken,[89] but on it were

traced two lines, in the Comtesse Anna’s own handwriting, with the

following words: “The Count left this morning for Niemirow.” This news

filled Hélène with dismay; she fancied the Countess rejoicing at her

grief, triumphing in his departure, and preparing to join her husband

and her children. A mad idea shot through her brain; she rang at once,

and ordered a post-chaise to be brought round immediately. Half an

hour later the Princess threw herself into the carriage, accompanied

by only one of her women, and after a journey of astounding rapidity

arrived at Niemirow a few hours after the Count.

The latter had left Warsaw merely to escape from a position that was

no longer bearable, and without any settled resolution. The unexpected

arrival of Hélène completely unnerved him; her beauty, her tenderness,

her despair, the rashness of her conduct in thus sacrificing her

reputation, all combined to move and perplex him, and the recollection

of poor Comtesse Anna could not contend against the fascination of the

moment. Hélène carried the day, and when the emotion of the first few

moments was over they agreed to ask for a divorce on both sides.

The Princess, dreading lest the Count should change his mind, urged

that their plans should be carried out without delay, and the very next

day three letters were despatched from Niemirow, the first addressed

to the Comtesse Anna, the second to the Prince de Ligne, and the third

to the Bishop of Wilna. The Count offered his wife the custody of their

two sons, besides a large annuity, if she would consent to the divorce.

The Princess requested that her daughter Sidonie should be sent back

to her, and that the Prince-Bishop and a trustee appointed by her,

and invested with her full authority, should settle all questions of

interest with the de Ligne family. Then, in a letter to her uncle, she

informed him of her intended divorce, asking him not to withdraw his

sympathy from her, and help her in the settlement of her affairs.

The Comtesse Anna was in total ignorance of what had taken place; her

husband’s letter told her the sad truth. The unhappy woman could as yet

hardly believe in the reality of the blow which had fallen upon her.

She had scarcely been married four years, and her unvarying gentleness

and blameless character ought to have secured to her the lasting

affection of the husband she adored, and whose fondest wish had been

fulfilled by the birth of two sons. She still hoped that this intimacy

would be but a passing fancy, and refused to consent to a divorce.

Her answer was simple and touching:--

“Have you forgotten,” she said, “that we married out of mutual

sympathy, and not only with the consent but by the wish of our parents?

These ties were to last for ever; and God sanctioned and blessed

them by granting us children. You have sometimes been weak, but I

shall still persevere, being fully persuaded that both my duty and my

happiness are involved....

“I shall always remember that when Francis was born you were on your

knees in the adjoining room, praying to God for me and for our child.

You loved us then, and if you searched your inmost heart, you would

still find these two sentiments there, for I believe nothing could ever

efface them.

“You see my heart and soul laid bare before you; read your own; one

word, only one, and I will forget everything; I await it with the

greatest impatience.

“Your very humble and very obedient servant,

ANNA POTOCKA.”

* * * * *

This letter and many others remained without effect; the Lord

Chamberlain had already made up his mind. Not only was he completely

under the charm of Hélène’s fascination, but, as we said before,

the prospect of the immense fortune she would possess singularly

strengthened his determination.

FOOTNOTES:

[78] This Diet was called the Grand or Constitutional Diet; it lasted

four years, and decreed hereditary rights to the throne, religious

liberty, the maintenance of a permanent army, and a new distribution

of taxes, affecting also the nobility. See Ferrand’s _History of the

Dismemberment of Poland_.

[79] The dismemberment of Poland did not arrest the intellectual

progress of the nation, which from that time devoted itself to the

preservation of the Polish language, and to the protection of the

monuments of the country. The influence exercised by Prince Czartoryski

in the Emperor Alexander’s councils greatly assisted this movement.

He purchased the magnificent library of the King Stanislaus-Augustus,

which, added to his own, became the most important depository of

Slavonic history and literature. It was confiscated by Russia in 1831.

[80] “It would be necessary,” says the Prince de Ligne, “to prevent the

ladies at Court from harming the Government by intrigues in love, in

politics, and in society; and also advisable to attract the great lords

by all sorts of amusements and distinctions. It would then be possible

to retain in the kingdom all the money which the pettiest noble, as

soon as he has cut his mustachios and left off his long respectable

coat, thinks necessary to carry off to Paris, and spend with women,

tailors, hotels, and hairdressers, and in gambling and paying off the

police, with whom he is always getting into trouble.” Unfortunately

the King himself set the example of thus abandoning the ancient Polish

customs in favour of the French.

[81] See the _Memoirs_ of Lauzun, whose authenticity, however, one can

by no means be certain of.

[82] The King’s eldest sister, Louise Poniatowska, married Count J.

J. Michel Zamoiski, by whom she had one daughter, Ursule Zamoiska.

Madame Geoffrin wrote as follows to King Stanislaus on 25th March

1776:--“Society at Warsaw is more brilliant than ever--at least I hear

of a great many marriages. Your niece, Mademoiselle Ursule Zamoiska, is

marrying a Count Potocki, brother-in-law of a Countess Potocka who is

here.”

[83] _La Feinte par Amour_, The Counterfeit of Love, comedy in three

acts and verse by Dorat, played for the first time on 13th July 1773.

[84] Ursule Zamoiska, Count Potocki’s first wife.

[85] Comte Auguste de la Marck, second son of the Duchesse d’Aremberg.

A friend of Mirabeau, he played an interesting part in the commencement

of the Revolution.

[86] The great Polish ladies were always accompanied by some young girl

or young married woman, who belonged to the lesser and poorer nobility;

their position was that of a companion or even head lady’s-maid.

[87] Hélène’s notes, many of which were insignificant, were docketed

and carefully kept by the Count.

[88] Madame Jean Potocka, the Count’s niece.

[89] We have found this letter amongst the Count’s papers. Hélène

probably forwarded it before she determined to join him.

XI

The rebellion in Flanders--Death of Joseph II.--Prince Charles in the

Russian service--The storming of Ismail--Return to Vienna--Hélène at

Kowalowska--The Count’s journey to Paris--The Lignes refuse to grant a

divorce--The Count’s illness.

While these romantic events were taking place in Ukrania others of

a more serious nature were occurring in Flanders. Van der Noot,

uniting his efforts to those of Vonck and Van der Mersch, had issued a

manifesto exhorting the people of Brabant to rebellion, and on the same

day, the 24th of October 1789, the little army of patriots assembled at

Hasselt had invaded the Belgian territory.[90] The Emperor, suddenly

alarmed, tried to arrest the movement by making useless concessions;

the violent irritation he felt at the defection of Flanders caused him

to suspect every one belonging to the country of taking part in the

rebellion. The Prince de Ligne himself, then at the siege of Belgrade,

did not escape his displeasure, and it was then that he wrote him the

harsh letter we have already mentioned. But Joseph soon recognised the

injustice of his suspicions, and the Prince de Ligne was recalled. The

latter obeyed at once, and wrote the following charming letter to the

Emperor:--

BELGRADE, _November 1789_.

“I am overjoyed at your Majesty’s kindness in permitting me to appear

before you, and to remain in Vienna until I start for Moravia or

Silesia at the head of the army now returning from Syrmia. I am far

more touched, Sire, by a grace than by a disgrace. The cares of the

siege of Belgrade, and the fever from which I suffered, that no amount

of quinine could subdue, prevented my feeling the grief I should

naturally have had on reading the terrible phrase: ‘Prepare yourself

to receive marks of my displeasure, for it is neither my pleasure nor

my habit to be disobeyed.’ I had reason to congratulate myself on my

behaviour, Sire, during the Bavarian war eleven years ago, and you

thanked me for it. On this occasion, it is true, your Majesty decided

that my despatches should be conveyed to you through an orderly; but

if I made use of my aides-de-camp, it was solely on account of the

Comte de Choiseul’s special message from Constantinople, recommending

that his very important despatch to the Marquis de Noailles should

be conveyed as safely and directly as possible. An orderly may fall

asleep, get drunk, or be murdered.

“I must crave your pardon, Sire, if I showed no anxiety at your

displeasure, but I know your justice still better; I supposed that

the ill-timed journey made by one of my aides-de-camp to Flanders

when the rebellion was at its height had perhaps led your Majesty to

suppose that I was concerned in it, and that I had some understanding

with the disaffected.”[91]

Whilst the Prince de Ligne was returning to Vienna the insurgents

seized Ghent and Brussels, and on the 2d of December 1789 they

proclaimed that Joseph II. had forfeited the sovereignty of the

Netherlands. Two months later the Emperor succumbed to a chronic

disease, aggravated by grief and anxiety.[92] The Prince de Ligne

wrote to the Empress Catherine: “He is no more, Madame,--he is no

more, the Prince who honoured the man, the man who still more honoured

the Prince. He said to me a few days before his death, on my return

from the Hungarian army which I had led into Silesia: ‘I was not fit

to see you yesterday; your country has killed me.... The capture of

Ghent is my agony, and the abandonment of Brussels my death. What an

outrage’ (he repeated that word several times). ‘I am dying of it: one

would have to be of stone to survive it. I thank you for all you have

done for me. Laudon has spoken very well of you; I thank you for your

fidelity. Go into Flanders; bring back the country to its allegiance.

If you cannot succeed, remain there; do not sacrifice your interests to

me--you have children....’”

On the Emperor’s table were found several letters, written on the eve

of his death. One of them, which was in French, was addressed to the

Princesses François and Charles de Lichtenstein, and to the Comtesses

Clary, de Kinsky, and de Kaunitz.

TO THE FIVE LADIES WHO SO KINDLY RECEIVED ME INTO THEIR SOCIETY.

“The time has come for me to bid you an eternal farewell, and express

all the gratitude I feel at the condescension and kindliness you have

shown me for so many years. The memory of each day is dear to me, and

the thought of separation is the only one that troubles me. Wholly

trusting in the goodness of Providence, I submit myself entirely to

its decrees. Keep me in remembrance, and do not forget me in your

prayers. My writing will show you the condition I am in.”

The Prince de Ligne was deeply affected by this loss, of which he

soon felt the painful results. Leopold II., who succeeded his father,

behaved with marked coldness towards all those for whom Joseph had had

any affection. Moreover, the new sovereign’s policy had nothing in

common with that of his predecessor. On the 27th of July 1790 Austria

signed at Reichenbach a Convention with Prussia, by which she agreed to

make peace with Turkey, the conditions to be based on the _status quo_

that existed before the war.

Prince Charles, foreseeing a period of forced inaction, asked and

obtained permission to enter the Russian service. He accordingly set

off, leaving his father in Vienna unfavourably looked upon at Court,

and grieved at being separated from him.

It was under Souvarof’s orders in Bessarabia that Prince Charles

fought his campaign. He was selected to conduct part of the operations

at the famous siege of Ismaïl.[1]

Since the 19th Souvarof had been battering the walls of the town; he

directed in person the assault by land, while another attack was being

made from the river. Three times the Russians were driven back under

a terrific fire; two columns remained for three hours in the trenches

exposed to a perfect storm of grape shot. At last a fire broke out

in the town, and the Russians were able to enter, the assault having

lasted ten hours. Prince Charles was amongst the first to go up, and

behind him followed, as simple volunteers, the Duc de Richelieu, the

Comte Roger de Damas, the Comte de Langeron, etc. etc. Fifteen thousand

1 Ismaïloff, a town of Russia in Europe (Bessarabia), situated on

the Danube. The storming of Ismaïl is one of the most celebrated in

history. The Russians, numbering 30,000, took possession of the town

on 22d November 1790, and pillaged it for three days. The Russians,

exasperated at the resistance they had met with, massacred two-thirds

of the inhabitants. Turks were massacred, and the town was given up to

pillage. Prince Charles received a wound in the leg, which, however,

did not stop him.

General Ribas, who commanded the flotilla in the Danube, wrote to the

Prince de Ligne as follows:--

ISMAÏL, _15th December_.

“MY PRINCE--In recalling myself to the notice of your serene Highness,

I venture to congratulate you on the glory that Prince Charles has

won at the storming of Ismaïl. The column he commanded, following the

example of its daring leader, was the first to effect a landing. In

spite of a severe wound in his leg he was the first to leap out of the

boat, and he scaled the ramparts of the town under a deadly fire. He

took possession of it, after setting fire to a Turkish frigate that

was doing us great damage, and after establishing and directing the

battery, which inflicted the greatest loss on the enemy.”

At the moment of Prince Charles’s entry into Ismaïl, and in the midst

of the fire and pillage and the fearful carnage, he saw a child three

or four years old standing alone under the doorway of a fine-looking

house, and uttering the most heartrending cries; his beauty and the

richness of his attire attracted the attention of the Prince; he took

up the child in his arms; it ceased crying, and looked at him with eyes

full of astonishment; then, terrified at the tumult and the horrible

scenes going on around them, he hid his face on his deliverer’s breast,

clinging to his neck with all the strength of his little arms. Much

moved, the Prince hastily carried the child to a place of safety, and

had it questioned by some prisoners who had escaped the massacre.

All he could say was that he was called Norokos, and that his mother

and the women who took care of him had been killed. The Prince chose

among the prisoners a Turkish man and woman, gave the child into their

keeping, and commanded that he should receive every possible care, as

he had decided to adopt him, and take him to Vienna on his return.

Immediately after the taking of Ismaïl the Empress Catherine wrote to

Prince Charles to tell him herself of his promotion to the rank of

colonel, and to confer on him the cross of commander of the order of

Saint Georges.

The Prince de Ligne was at Vienna when he received the news of the

capture of Ismaïl, and of the honours the Empress had bestowed on his

son. He had just been slighted and treated with flagrant injustice

by Leopold II., but he forgot everything on hearing of his Charles’s

success, and wrote the same day to the Czarina:--

“MADAME--My heart, which bounds forward so quickly that my pen is

unable to keep pace with it, can never sufficiently express my

gratitude for the favours bestowed by your Imperial Majesty on my

excellent and fortunate Charles. I shall not publish the letter you

have deigned to write to me, but shall content myself with never

forgetting it. Not until we have peace will your Majesty regain your

former wit, as during the last four years you have been all soul and

genius. Good heavens, what abundant proof of it there is in your

letter to my good Charles! I am afraid it will have put him quite

beside himself....”

But it is with his son that the Prince gives himself up to the full

vehemence of his feelings.

VIENNA, _25th November 1790_.

“So you end the war, as you began it, by making me die of anxiety on

behalf of the most courageous of mortals, of joy at possessing such

a son, of emotion at your conduct, and of regret at never having

equalled your merit in any quarter.[93] My dear Charles, in spite of

these four deaths, I am quite alive, and the happiest of men, for

I am going to see you again. My God! good Charles, brave Charles,

what anxiety you have given me! Mine is the high stake! If they had

_néboïsséd_[94] you, as they sometimes do (and for two or three

nights especially the thought deprived me of sleep), say, what in

the world would have become of me? Supposing I had survived, could I

have existed a minute without reproaching myself for my strength and

weakness in not opposing your departure?...”

Almost immediately after the peace of Ismaïl the Empress began secretly

to negotiate a treaty with the Turks. Preoccupied by events in France,

and especially in Poland, she was anxious to be rid of a war which

absorbed the greatest part of her army. Prince Charles, aware of what

was going on, asked and obtained his discharge. He announced his return

to Vienna to his father, and came back escorted by a numerous retinue.

He brought with him the little Norokos and his attendants, a Turkish

band of twelve musicians, and magnificent presents of arms and horses

that Marshal Souvarof and Prince Potemkin had given him.

THE PRINCE DE LIGNE TO HIS SON.

“Good Lord! dear Charles! you are coming back, but I cannot realise

it. I assure you that since you have had the good fortune to escape

from such dangers, you must be physically immortal as well as morally.

I do not know how I shall manage to kiss you, how I shall place

myself, where your large nose will go, how I shall manage my own; I

fully intend also kissing your wounded knee, perhaps going down on my

own knees for the purpose, before you as well as before heaven.”

_P.S._--TO THE BRAVEST AND PRETTIEST FELLOW AMONG THE VOLUNTEERS.[95]

“As for you, my dear Duke, I shall not seek to express the feelings

I entertain on your behalf. It is impossible to be a more worthy

grandson of the Maréchal de Richelieu, never has any one had a more

valiant and charming comrade. Both you and Charles have equally

contributed to each other’s glory.

“Certain of your mutual esteem, you strove to augment it. What

happiness for me, dear Duke, to know that you are full of life and

energy; to remember that I have loved you from the time of your birth,

for hardly had you come into the world than you were already its

ornament.

“But I must tell you both about the King of Naples. What a kind good

man he is! He embraced me about ten times, that is to say, as often

as he met me during the ball, which took place at the house of his

ambassador Gallo.[96] He took me up to every one, saying: ‘_Suo

figlio! ah! bravo juvene! è férito_.’”[97]

The Flemish rebellion was drawing to a close. After shaking off the

Austrian yoke the first act of the Flemish people had been to divide

into two hostile factions, one of which was anxious to preserve

the ancient, aristocratic, and sacerdotal constitution, to retain

which had been the motive of the revolution, while the other faction

supported the new doctrines of the constituent assembly in Paris.

Leopold, who had learnt the art of negotiating in Tuscany, and was

an astute politician, cleverly took advantage of the division of

opinions, and on coming to the throne[98] promised to restore to

Flanders all her ancient privileges, but at the same time despatched an

army strong enough to subdue her if necessary. The country offered no

resistance.[99]

On the 2d of December 1790 Leopold granted a general amnesty, and

before many months had passed all trace of the disturbances in Flanders

had disappeared.

After enjoying for some time the happiness of seeing her son, the

Princesse de Ligne left for Brussels and Bel Œil, in order to repair

the damages these residences had sustained during the revolution, for

they had been abandoned ever since 1787. It was precisely at this

period that Hélène’s letters asking for a divorce reached her husband.

The de Ligne family had several times expressed their displeasure at

the prolonged stay of the Princesse Charles in Poland. At first she had

answered evasively, then, having inquired after her little daughter

Sidonie, she ceased writing altogether.

Hélène’s sudden departure and prolonged stay in Ukrania had created

a great sensation in Warsaw. The Princesse Maréchale and other great

ladies, who were spending the winter in Vienna, related the adventure,

and commented upon it. The Lignes, as may easily be supposed, were

greatly offended at Hélène’s imprudent escapade, and, far from

favourably receiving her request for a divorce, they absolutely refused

to consent to it. It may be supposed that if the lady whom he loved

had been free, Prince Charles would have sent a different answer, but

there existed, evidently, some insurmountable obstacle to their union.

Meanwhile the Count, who directed all Hélène’s affairs, started for

Paris, invested by her with full powers to treat with the Lignes; for

the Princesse Charles was still under the delusion that her request

would be granted. On his arrival in Paris he had a first interview

with the Prince de Ligne’s steward, and gave him a copy of his deed of

authorization.

The steward went off at once to confer with the Prince on these grave

questions, but when he returned to Paris he found that the Count, who

in the meantime had heard from Hélène of Prince Charles’s decided

refusal, had already taken his departure.

The following is the letter the steward had brought.

LETTER FROM THE PRINCE DE LIGNE.

VIENNA, _15th January 1791_.

“As we no longer are aware of the Princesse Charles de Ligne’s

existence, and as, in fact, she is dead to us and to our little

Sidonie, we can enter into no arrangements with her.

“A woman kept prisoner by a stupid Polish tyrant should not prevent

Sidonie’s great-uncle from paying the bills of exchange, for which

he has given us every possible security, and which, according to the

desire of Prince Charles and the Prince-Bishop, and even according to

that of her mother, are destined to free the estates in Galicia. She

has neither the power nor the right to administer these estates, as

she is under the influence of a man who publicly manages her business,

for in so doing she might damage her daughter’s interests.

“When she chooses to free herself from the bondage in which she is

living, and take up her residence either in Paris or Warsaw, or on

one of my estates if she prefers it, she shall receive an annuity of

thirty thousand French livres, which is the least her husband intends

her to have, as soon as he shall himself come into the whole of his

fortune.

“As the Princesse Charles, if she married the Count Potocki, would be

even more unhappy than she is at present, her husband, in her interest

and in that of her daughter, will never give his consent.

LIGNE.

“The Princess’s diamonds and the rest of her property will be

immediately returned to her, and she must send to Pradel the drawings

belonging to her husband she still has in her possession.”

Prince Charles wished to send back at once all the diamonds, furniture,

and effects left by Hélène at Bel Œil and at Brussels, and he wrote to

his mother urging her to forward them at once to their destination. It

will be remembered that Hélène had left Brussels hurriedly at the time

of the insurrection, and therefore had not had time to discharge a few

personal debts contracted at her own expense. The Princesse de Ligne

wrote to her daughter-in-law the following letter:--

BRUSSELS, _24th February 1791_.

“As your husband had written to me, Madame, that he consented to the

return of everything belonging to you, with the exception of the

books, most of which already formed a part of the library at Bel Œil,

the rest having been purchased on condition of their being placed

in it, I was about to order the packing of your effects when your

creditors, hearing of this, came to oppose the proceedings, alleging

that they never received any answer to the letters they sent you. They

will not allow the removal of the effects, which are their guarantee;

it is only out of consideration for me, and on my promising to write

to you myself, that they have consented to wait long enough for you to

receive this letter and send a reply.

“I therefore beg you, Madame, if you do not wish to run the risk of

having your things publicly sold, to send me a bill of exchange or an

order on some bank, so that by the end of April I may be able to meet

their claims.

“The bills I have been able to collect, added to those I already know

of, amount to about five thousand florins in our coin. As I do not

intend to be in Brussels after the 15th of May, I warn you that unless

I receive the money by the first of the month, I shall hand over your

possessions to a public auctioneer, who will estimate their value and

settle with the creditors, and I shall have nothing more to do with

it. You will certainly not profit by this arrangement; for I should

have been more economical and have taken more interest in your affairs

than he will.

“Sidonie is in excellent health; she is a dear little thing, and

although you hardly notice her, she often speaks of you, and never

forgets to mention her mother in her little prayers. Impatiently

awaiting your reply, for, with the precautions I have taken, I am

certain this letter will reach you, I remain, Madame, yours, etc.

“LA PRINCESSE DE LIGNE.”

During these negotiations Hélène was living at Kowalowska in complete

retirement. Her mother-in-law’s letter arrived at a moment when it was

impossible for her to send any money to Brussels. This woman of the

world, accustomed to the most refined luxury, was almost in actual

want, and with very natural pride would accept nothing from the Count

but the hospitality he had offered her. She wrote to him as follows:--

“Your letter has made me very sad. There is no more question of your

return than if you were never coming back. MM. de Ligne will listen

to nothing; what can I do? What line of action can I take? What do

they want of me? What is their object? They apparently hope that want

will make me submit to their will, and imagine they are granting

me a favour by shutting me up in a Convent with a pension.[100] But

even should they be willing to receive me back into their family, I

would never return to them; all is at an end between them and me, and

I should even prefer the Convent to the trial of living with people

whom I do not love, and who would despise me; the word alone makes me

shudder.

“As to the money question, it would be most painful to me to be a

burden to anybody in the world; I would sooner live by manual work, and

would not hesitate to begin by discarding all my household, and keeping

only one servant.

“The few effects I possess, such as books, music, and some pieces of

furniture, I no longer consider as my own; you will be good enough

to take them into account in the sum I owe you for table expenses,

washing, etc.; for, as regards money, I can give you none. I have

made a purchase this month, which I should have avoided had I known

my affairs were in such a bad state. I spent forty ducats in buying

linen to make chemises, for I required some, and it was difficult for

me to do without them. I was shown some fine linen, and as it is often

difficult to procure, I bought it. If I become a prey to absolute

misery, I shall yet have the necessary courage to bear it. You will

care as much for me in sackcloth as in silk, and I shall be quite

happy. I do not wish even to return into society. I became acquainted

early in life with its most brilliant attractions, and soon wearied

of them; I shall never get weary of a quiet life, even attended with

poverty, if you love me.”

The Princesse Charles was a prey to all kinds of anxiety; her

imagination was constantly inventing dangers: “I am far from being

reassured,” she wrote to the Count; “on the contrary, it seems to me

that each moment increases my anxiety and worry. I was told that on

his return from Vienna the _Krajczy_ had gone to Dubus. If you meet

him I fear that he will encourage you to separate from me; he will

certainly have known MM. de Ligne at Vienna; their cause will have

interested him, and he will try to oblige them by urging you to abandon

me. This idea tortures me. Answer me directly on this subject. Since

Thursday I have been abandoned to the melancholy tenure of my thoughts,

and that without any hope of consolation; I am in great dread lest

your absence should be taken advantage of to get you to give up all

idea of our union; do not ever expect my consent to this. Should it be

necessary for your happiness, I am ready to release you from your vows,

but nothing will induce me to break those by which I have bound myself

to love you always.”

The Princess had received a very short answer to the letter she had

sent to the Prince-Bishop. He had not written himself, but had replied

through his steward that he would reflect on the subject, and that he

refused for the time being to treat with his niece’s delegate. Hélène

wrote to the Count, and added:--

“If my uncle will not abide by the settlement, he has only to cancel

it, and give me back my lands. But to take possession of my estates,

and give me nothing in return, is really too unjust, and I cannot

believe my uncle will let me die of hunger. It would be infamous if,

with the immense fortune I possess, I were reduced to poverty by so

cruel an injustice, notwithstanding every law to the contrary. God

grant that I may escape the clutches of Silvestrowicz[101] with a

sufficient income to be a burden to no one! But where is my uncle? Can

I despatch any one to him, to explain my position and the ill-will of

Silvestrowicz? I shall find myself without a _sol_,[102] and then what

shall I do? tell me. But how could it be possible for my uncle to rob

me so completely, without my obtaining any redress? It is only in this

country that such a thing could take place. I am indeed very unhappy,

but I am so affected by your absence that it prevents my dwelling upon

my other griefs, which, at this moment, are but a minor part of my

sorrows. Good-bye, Vincent; love me, for your love is all I have left.”

The Count had just arrived in Poland, but seemed in no hurry to return

to Ukrania.

He wrote to Hélène that his own business kept him away from her, but

that she had nothing to fear from the influences she had mentioned in a

former letter. “I am greatly relieved,” she answers, “to hear at last

that you are in Poland, and to know that I have nothing to fear from

the _Krajczy_; his wife, his daughter, and his sons are all intimate

friends of MM. de Ligne, and I dreaded lest he might meddle with our

affairs. As for myself, I consider the engagement which bound us to

have been a fatal error, seeing we were so young, and that our only

fitness consisted in a mere similarity of birth and fortune. To you

alone I have given my pledge, my real love, the most chaste and sacred

of all ties.”

A short time after Hélène had fresh cause for anxiety. “Fancy,” she

writes to the Count, “I have read in the _Gazette de Hambourg_ that

Prince Charles is about to return to the Russian army by Léopol; he

must therefore pass by Niemirow, or at least quite near it. I assure

you that your Cossacks are barely a sufficient protection to reassure

a coward like myself.”[103] But the Prince passed through without

troubling himself about her.

At last the Count announced his arrival. “How my heart beats,” writes

Hélène, “when I think that the moment is drawing near which will bring

you back to me. I am so taken up by your return that whether you have

successfully or unsuccessfully settled my business is a question

which does not interest me as it would at any other time. I count the

minutes, and can only speculate on the hour at which you started, and

the hour at which you may arrive, and it seems to me as though I had

centuries to wait.

“I hope you will receive this letter on your way. I have just received

one from my uncle; it appears that he _is not angry with me, and,

with the exception of helping me by his influence or his money, is

entirely devoted to me_. What irony! But what can I do? If my family is

indifferent to me, I am quite the same towards them; provided that you

always love me, I shall have no wish left in the world; I have neither

vanity nor ambition, I have only love.”

The Count arrived at Niemirow very much dissatisfied with his journey,

and anxious about the future. He had thought, from what Hélène had

said, that he would meet with no opposition to a divorce on the part

of the Lignes, and instead of the consent he expected, he had only

received a very decided refusal, accompanied by a severe criticism

of his own conduct, and of the interested motives which, rightly or

wrongly, were attributed to him.

He had also fancied he would easily obtain his wife’s consent by

leaving her his two sons; instead of this, his schemes were baffled on

all sides by very serious difficulties.

On the other hand, the position of the Princess, who was living an

isolated life, almost hidden, it may be said, in one of the Count’s

residences, in the neighbourhood of Niemirow, could no longer be

endured without serious inconvenience. The Comtesse Anna was very

much beloved in the country, her two children inhabited Niemirow, and

everybody was beginning to wonder at her prolonged absence; how much

more extraordinary would it appear when her husband should return!

All these reflections threw the Count into a gloomy state of mind;

he made a short stay at Kowalowska, but Hélène was pained by the

coldness of his manner, and the embarrassment he showed during their

first interview; he briefly narrated the unsatisfactory results of his

journey, intimating that he could not remain at Niemirow, and advising

her to go to her uncle’s and wait there for a solution which was

probably very remote.

Although the Count made these announcements with a certain precaution,

they produced a terrible impression on the Princess. She had behaved

with the utmost good faith, persuaded that, to obtain a divorce and

marry directly after, was the easiest thing in the world. Her marriage

would cover the imprudence of her flight, and make every one forget

the conclusions they had drawn from it. Suddenly she saw her dearest

hopes vanish, her honour compromised, and the man for whom she had

sacrificed everything calmly suggest that she should leave him, perhaps

for ever. The strain on her over-wrought mind was too great, and she

fainted. When she came to herself her women only were around her bed,

for the Count had returned to Niemirow. She wrote to him at once: “When

you left me I was in the greatest despair, yet you never showed the

slightest feeling of pity. I can only say that I shall find my life

odious if you persist in your intention of abandoning me. I appeal to

you for an account of my destiny thus committed to your charge. Is it

possible you could dispose of it with so little reflection?”

Hélène in vain waited all day for a reply; the Count did not answer.

The next day she received a few lines, saying that he was ill. The

Princess was not in the habit of leaving Kowalowska, and had never

entered the residence where the children of the Countess Anna were

living. But in her anxiety she forgot all prudence, and wrote as

follows: “I am in despair at hearing you are ill; if you had sent me

word sooner I should have perhaps found means of coming to see you. If

you are unable to assist me otherwise, send me the key of the small

garden gate; Saint Charles will follow me, and I will come, for it is

impossible for me to let to-day pass without seeing you; I am in agony,

and besides I have letters I must show you.”

The Count’s illness was only too genuine. The worry he had gone through

during his journey, the awkwardness of his position, added to bodily

fatigue, were probably its cause. At the end of three days a putrid

fever of an alarming character declared itself, and for three months he

was in danger of death.

The unhappy Hélène did not dare to take her place at his bedside; she

only went secretly to his room in order to be certain that every care

was bestowed on him. The Bishop of Wilna, on hearing what was taking

place, decided at last to write to his niece. He urged her to come and

settle near him at Werky, and promised to forget her _past imprudences_

if she would renounce her _mad infatuation for the Count_.

The Princess answered:--

“MY DEAR UNCLE--You must certainly have heard of the Lord

Chamberlain’s illness; but what no one can tell you, and what I myself

can hardly express, is the fearful state of despair I was in on seeing

the only happiness possible for me in this world on the very brink of

destruction.

“Now at last, after all my anxiety, he is out of danger, and although

he was on the point of losing his life, I can truly assure you that he

does not recover from a worse state than I do myself.

“Your letter arrived at the very moment that we were beginning to take

courage, and to fancy that our union was still a possibility; you will

imagine my despair on seeing that you only speak of a separation.

“I know your kindness of heart, my dear uncle, and am persuaded that

you have never formed a plan without intending it to bring about my

happiness and tranquillity; I therefore implore you, my dear uncle,

not to consider any plan feasible that should remove me or oblige me

to forsake the choice I have made. Whatever reproach may be cast at

me, I am certain I do not deserve to be blamed for want of firmness

or constancy. I am quite decided not to change anything in my way of

acting, even should the present impediments last as long as my life.

I therefore beg you, my dear uncle, to vouchsafe me a few words of

comfort. Tell me that you wish to see us happy, but do not tell us

that we must seek our happiness apart from each other.

“Good-bye, my dear uncle; accept the tribute of my deepest respect,

and the tender affection which I shall bear you through life.

“HÉLÈNE LIGNE.”

After a convalescence which lasted as long as his illness, the Count

started for Galicia. He had been touched by Hélène’s despair, and by

her devotion to him. On leaving her he promised that he would again

make every effort to obtain the divorce so ardently desired, and he

left her, if not easy in her mind, at least somewhat reassured.

FOOTNOTES:

[90] Van der Noot, an active and zealous lawyer, but with more ambition

than capacity, together with the _Grand Penitencier_, Van Eupen, headed

the party who wished for the maintenance of the ancient, aristocratic,

and sacerdotal constitution, while another lawyer, Vonck, a man of

great ability, and General Van der Mersch, led the popular faction.

[91] The Belgians had, nevertheless, made the most brilliant offers

to the Prince. Van der Noot implored him to come and place himself at

their head. “I thank you for the provinces you offer me,” he replied

in his usual jesting manner, “but I never revolt in winter.” Moreover

the Prince, who did not approve of revolutions, was indignant at that

of Flanders. “If I were there,” he writes, “I should speak first as

a patriot, a word that is becoming odious to me, then as a citizen,

another word often misapplied; and if I did not succeed I should speak

as an Austrian general, and forthwith silence an archbishop, a bishop,

a fat monk, a professor, a brewer, and a lawyer.”

[92] The Empress Catherine wrote to Grimm: “Joseph II. killed himself

with his endless audiences; they are, to say the least, useless, and

waste a great deal of time. I used to tell him so. He was acquainted

with everything, except the disposition of the Flemish people when the

rebellion broke out. I witnessed his astonishment when the first news

arrived; he came to consult me, and was disposed to treat the affair as

a trifling matter; but I took the liberty of advising him to pay it the

most serious attention.” Joseph II. died on 20th February 1790.

[93] Prince Charles was extremely modest. His father wrote to Madame de

Coigny: “I do not underrate my courage, which may be brilliant enough,

but it is not unalloyed; there is a certain amount of humbug about it;

I perform too much for the public. How infinitely I prefer the courage

of my dear, good Charles, who never looks to see if he is being looked

at.”

[94] A Turkish expression, indicating the act of beheading the dead on

the field of battle.

[95] The Comte de Chinon, Armand-Emmanuel-Sophie-Septimanie Duplessis,

Duc de Richelieu, grandson of the Marshal, born the 25th September

1766, died the 16th May 1822. At the age of fourteen he married

Mademoiselle de Rochechouart, but had no children by her. The Duke

emigrated in 1790, went to Vienna, where he was received with

distinction, and from thence to Saint Petersburg, where he was equally

well received. “He possessed,” says the Prince de Ligne, “rare beauty,

and a character of extreme gentleness. Though he did not inherit his

grandfather’s superior talents, he had nevertheless a sound judgment,

many natural virtues, and an ardent love of justice; he was less

dissipated than his youthful companions, although fond of ladies’

society, and born to please.” The Duc de Richelieu was President of the

Privy Council under the Restoration.

[96] The Marquis del Gallo, Neapolitan ambassador at Vienna, gave this

ball in honour of the betrothal of the King of Naples’s two daughters

with two Archdukes, sons of the Emperor Leopold.

[97] “His son, ah! brave young fellow! is wounded.”

[98] The 30th September 1790.

[99] The Comte de Browne took back Brussels from the Belgian patriots

with a few companies of grenadiers and a handful of hussars. By dint

of care, firmness, and gold, which he distributed in handfuls, he so

completely re-established order and security in the town that it became

more quiet, more submissive, and more prosperous than it ever had been.

(_Unpublished Memoirs of the Prince de Ligne._)

[100] This phrase shows that the Count had not sent Hélène the Prince’s

letter, in which he offered her one of his residences as a retreat.

[101] The Bishop of Wilna’s steward.

[102] A halfpenny.

[103] The Cossacks inhabited the plains of Ukrania, and the borders of

the Borysthenes (Dniester). These savage hordes, who lived by plunder

and pillage, were sometimes called Zaporogues (inhabitants of the

cataracts). Most of the Polish noblemen in this part of the country had

in their pay some hundreds of these brigands, who caused the greatest

terror. They belonged to those who paid them best, and the cruelties

committed by the Cossacks in Catherine’s pay during the massacres in

Ukrania exceeded the greatest horrors that can be imagined. (See, for

more ample details, Comte de la Garde’s _Voyage in Ukrania_.)

XII

Return of the Princes to Mons--Emigration in Belgium--A representation

of _Richard Cœur de Lion_--Prince Charles re-enters the Austrian

service--He represents the Emperor on his inauguration as Count of

Hainault--War with France--Dumouriez in Champagne--The fight at

Croix-aux-Bois--Death of Prince Charles--Despair of the Prince de

Ligne.

The pacification of Flanders was an accomplished fact, and in 1791 the

Prince de Ligne, accompanied by Prince Charles, officially entered

Mons as Grand Bailiff of Hainault. A magnificent banquet, followed

by a concert and a ball, was given in their honour by the States of

Hainault, in the Town Hall.[104]

Several poems were presented to the Prince de Ligne by the students of

the college of Houdain and others. It is unnecessary to say that the

virtues of the Prince and the glory of his son were the chosen theme.

However, in the midst of this concert of praise, one discordant note

was heard. A certain lawyer from Nivelle, called Masson, published a

libel on the occasion. “Amongst several other things I have forgotten,”

writes the Prince, “he said that at my entry as governor of Hainault I

looked like an old Sultan, surrounded by women, to whom I devoted the

whole of my attention, and that I had been stupid enough to accept in

good faith acclamations of ‘Long live the Patriot Prince.’ This last

statement is true. It was in a church, where I was either taking or

administering the oath. I accepted this cry with the rest, without

suspecting that its utterer had any malicious intention. As for the

Sultan, he does me too much honour; it is true that, during my tedious

progress, some very pretty girls threw bouquets into my carriage, and

the crowd obliging them to stop near the door, I thanked them very

much, and told them they were charming. The only reproach which might

be considered not quite unfounded was that concerning my entry. The war

had just ended, as well as the rebellion in the Netherlands, both of

which had cost me a great deal of money. I might have made debts and

covered my followers with gold lace; but I thought, on the contrary,

the people would be grateful to me for not making too great a display.

As I had two Turks, four Hussars, several bearded Russians, a Tartar

with two dromedaries, and a Turkish band, he might very well compare me

to Tamerlane or the Emperor of China, though I do not remember exactly

which of the two I was supposed to resemble.”

The Princes were very heartily received by the inhabitants of the good

town of Mons, where they were much beloved; on the following day they

started with their family for Bel Œil.

As soon as he was settled the first thing the Prince did was to erect

a monument in honour of his beloved son Charles, to perpetuate the

memory of his brilliant conduct at Sabacz and at Ismaïl. He designed it

himself, chose the site, and laid it out so as to imitate a spot in the

Empress’s gardens at Czarskoë-Celo. “By following the left bank of the

river,” he says, “you come upon an obelisk dedicated by Friendship to

Valour. It is not my fault if Charles is the hero of it; it is not my

fault if Charles distinguished himself in the war; it is not my fault

if I am the father of such a perfect being. The father disappears,

the man remains, and the hero is celebrated; I must not be accused of

partiality, but I may be accused of pride.”

This obelisk, in marble, is forty-five feet high. On one side is

inscribed, in gold letters, the following: “To my dear Charles, for

Sabacz and Ismaïl;” on the second, “_Nec te juvenis memoranda silebo_;”

and on the third, “His glory is my pride, his friendship my happiness.”

The de Lignes spent the summer at Bel Œil, happy to be quiet and united

once more in the country they loved so well; but to an attentive

observer the tranquillity which reigned in Flanders was not to be of

long duration; threatening symptoms might be discerned on every side.

The frightful progress of the French revolution, and the presence of

the _émigrés_ in the Netherlands, caused anxiety in many minds.

Savoy, Switzerland, the Black Forest, Liege, Treves, Luxemburg, and

the Netherlands were the first asylums of the persecuted; it was only

later on, when they had lost all hope of a speedy return, that they

went to Vienna, London, Poland, and Russia. The Archduchess Marie

Christine, regent in the Netherlands, was the sister of the Queen of

France; it was natural she should protect the _émigrés_; but Leopold

was not favourably disposed towards them, and in the very beginning

of his reign he requested the Archduchess Christine and the Electors

of Mayence, Cologne, and Treves to do all in their power to prevent

the refugees and the Princes from doing anything rash. “Do not allow

yourselves to be led into anything,” he wrote; “do nothing the French

or the Princes ask you to do; meet them with civilities and dinners,

but give them neither troops, money, nor help of any sort.” He entirely

separated the cause of the King from that of the _émigrés_.

The Prince de Ligne was extremely ill-disposed towards the Emperor

Leopold; he reproached him with having sucked the milk of Italian

dissimulation, and he would not have anything to do with his pretended

political calculations. He adored the Queen, and his heart leaped with

indignation at the thought of the dangers which daily threatened her

more and more.

He had vainly solicited a command in the Austrian army. Leopold had

carefully avoided granting his request, for he feared the imprudences

his vivacity, his opinions, and his chivalrous devotion might lead him

to commit.

We must admit that the Prince de Ligne was no passionate admirer of

liberty; he very soon foresaw the tendencies of the revolution, and

in 1790 wrote to the Comte de Ségur concerning the National Assembly:

“Greece had her philosophers, but they were only seven; you have

twelve hundred of them at eighteen francs a day, having no mission but

what they arrogate to themselves, no knowledge of foreign countries,

no general plan of operations, and not even the sea, which is a sort

of protection to the makers of empty phrases, and to the laws of the

country it surrounds.”

The Prince never missed an opportunity of showing his sympathy for

the royal family. One day he was present at a representation of

_Richard Cœur de Lion_ at the small theatre at Tournai. The public

was chiefly composed of French _émigrés_, who were full of hope and

illusion, impatiently awaiting the time when they should return to

their country. The Prince could not hear without emotion the air of: _O

Richard! Ô mon roi! l’univers t’abandonne_.[105] Tears came into his

eyes, and the audience, perceiving his emotion, frantically applauded.

“At that part,” says the Prince, “where the promise is made to avenge

the poor captive king, I advanced, applauding as though I too wished

to contribute my efforts. I was in earnest at the time, and it seemed

likely that my services would be accepted. Suddenly the French ladies,

both young and old, in the excitement rushed out of their boxes, and

the whole of the pit, mostly consisting of young French officers,

jumped on the stage, crying out: ‘Long live the King! Long live the

Prince de Ligne;’ and they only stopped clapping their hands to wipe

their eyes over-flowing with tears.”

Among the young refugee officers who were the most cordially received

at Bel Œil was M. de Villeneuve Laroche. He writes in his Memoirs:[106]

“The Prince de Ligne at this time was residing with all his family at

Bel Œil, a fine estate distant one league from the town of Ath; he took

pleasure in conversing with us about the principles of honour that were

the basis of our conduct, and he commended us with enthusiasm.

“He was good enough to invite me several times to dine at his

magnificent residence; I may even go so far as to say that I formed

quite an intimacy with his eldest son, Prince Charles, an officer of

the very greatest promise; he was a _colonel major_ in the artillery,

and had lately distinguished himself in the war against the Turks....

“The son sympathised with our feelings as much as his father. He

told me one day that he had just written to the Emperor asking to be

employed in the coalition war, and added that if his request was

rejected he would serve as a mere volunteer with the French nobility.”

Prince Charles had in fact urgently requested to be allowed to return

to the Austrian army, with the rank of colonel in the engineers.

After the death of the Emperor Leopold, which took place on the 27th

of February 1792, the Prince was given an appointment in General

Clairfayt’s army corps. The Austrian general-in-chief was the Duke

Albert of Saxe-Teschen, husband of the Archduchess Christine.

The campaign was opened against the armies of the French republic;

and already, on the 27th of May, Prince Charles had distinguished

himself by his daring valour in a fight that took place near Condé;

but no great battle was yet imminent. The enemy confined himself to

skirmishes; the Duke Albert’s headquarters were at Mons, and the

inauguration of the new Emperor, François II., as Count of Hainault,

was to take place in that town. Prince Charles de Ligne was chosen to

represent the sovereign on this occasion.[107]

We read in the _Journal du Palais et historique_ of the councillor

Paridaens the following paragraph:--

_7th June 1792._

“This day being a feast of the Holy Sacrament, his Royal Highness

the Duke Albert of Saxe-Teschen, who is Governor-General of the

Netherlands, followed in the procession. Several generals accompanied

him--among others, the Prince de Lambesc, of the House of Lorraine,

who had been transferred from the French to the Austrian service, and

also the son of the Prince de Ligne.”

_9th June._

“On this day, Saturday, the Prince de Ligne’s son, although quartered

for some time at Mons, made his official entry into the town as

Commissary to his Majesty at the ceremony of Inauguration which is

to take place on the day after to-morrow. Guns were fired, although

we are at the very seat of war. He entered on horseback by the Havré

gate, crossed the square, and went up the Rue Neuve to the hôtel de

Ligne,[108] while the bells were ringing. He was followed by the

dragoon officers of the Coburg regiment, and by his liveried retainers.

“However, as the French, who were camped at Maubeuge, showed a

disposition to interfere in the ceremony of Inauguration, and had

in the last few days drawn nearer towards Petit, Quévy, and even

Bougnies, on the evening of the 10th of June an attack was prepared

and carried out at two o’clock in the morning. There was a violent

onset and sharp cannonading, which lasted till five.”

Prince Charles, who would not have missed this fight for anything in

the world, started off in the middle of the night at the head of his

regiment, despite the Archduke Albert’s opposition. He fought with

his usual bravery, was very nearly taken prisoner, having imprudently

ventured too far amidst the enemy; and at seven in the morning, black

with powder and heated with the fight, he arrived on horseback, post

haste, barely in time to put on his full dress uniform and get into his

coach.

The ceremony of the Emperor’s Inauguration as Count of Hainault is as

old as the days of Charlemagne, but this was the last time that the

traditional custom was to be celebrated. We have seen the importance

attached to it by the States of Hainault at the time of the Flemish

insurrection.

At half-past eight all the clergy of Mons, the ladies of the Chapter

of Sainte Waudru, following the shrine of the saint, who was the

patroness of Mons, all the magistrates, the deputies of the town

council, the chief councillor of the Provinces in his State robes,

and the twenty-six deputies of the chief towns in Hainault, preceded

by magnificent banners from all the parishes, embroidered in gold and

silk, took their places in the theatre. At nine o’clock his Highness

the Prince Charles de Ligne left his hotel in a coach drawn by six

horses and preceded by a detachment of dragoons, by the members of the

order of the nobility, each one in a coach drawn by two horses, and by

a herald-at-arms on horseback, named O’Kelly, bearing his coat-of-arms,

and the cap and wand of his office. The guards and officers of his

house closed the procession. On reaching the theatre his Highness

seated himself on an arm-chair under a canopy, above which was placed a

portrait of his Majesty.

When all the different orders were placed and seated, the trumpets

sounded, Murray’s regiment fired a volley of musketry, the artillery on

the ramparts answered by a salute, and the herald-at-arms, advancing to

the front of the theatre, called _Silence_ three times. Then the Prince

rose, and, laying his hand on the Gospels, first took the oath to the

Chapter of Sainte Waudru, of which he was named Abbot. The Princesse

de Croy, first lady of the Chapter, presented to him the crozier,

and a salute of artillery and music and trumpets, etc., announced to

the people that the first act of the ceremony had taken place. The

Prince afterwards took the oath to the States, in the same manner; and

finally, a third time to the town of Mons, after which he solemnly

received the oaths of allegiance from the said Chapter, States, and

Town.

“During the ceremony,” says the councillor Paridaens, “some national

guards, taken prisoners in that night’s encounter, had been brought to

the square, and just as the procession was threading its way to Sainte

Waudru, at the entrance of the road, it was met by the generals who

were returning from fighting the French. At the head of these generals

was the Duc Albert de Saxe, with his nephew the Archduke Charles,[109]

who had been under fire for the first time in his life. At that very

moment the news arrived that M. de Gouvion, Commander-in-Chief of the

French army, had been killed. It was vaguely known that the French had

been repulsed, after having made, however, a good stand for the first

time. Indeed the cannon had been heard without interruption from two

o’clock till six in the morning. On the 12th of June H.R.H. Madame

arrived about ten o’clock in the morning. “On entering the rooms of

the Government House she heartily and repeatedly embraced her nephew,

the Archduke Charles, as one might a friend whom one sees for the

first time after he has encountered a great danger. I saw this from my

dining-room windows.”

The Prince gave a banquet that evening to the principal town

authorities; the Archdukes, the Prince de Lambesc, and other generals

were present. On the following day he returned to the camp, only too

glad to have done with a part so little in keeping with his natural

modesty. Two months went by, events were succeeding each other in

France with the most startling rapidity, the position of the royal

family was becoming daily more critical, till the terrible 10th of

August induced the Duke of Brunswick, commander-in-chief of the allied

forces, to alter his plan of campaign. He decided to move on the army

in the direction of the gorge of Argonne, so as to enter Champagne by

Sainte Menehould, and march on Paris by Châlons. He gave orders to

General Clairfayt to join him with twenty-five thousand men, who were

to form the right wing of his army. This change of position on the part

of Count Clairfayt decided Dumouriez, then at the camp of Maulde, to

proceed to the plains of Champagne with the greater part of his army.

During the three months that had elapsed since the inauguration at

Mons no important battle had afforded Prince Charles an opportunity

of distinguishing himself; but, gifted with a sound judgment and

an observant mind, he had employed the interval in forming a just

estimate of the illusions entertained by the _émigrés_, and of the

very imperfect description they had given of the state of France. He

wrote from the camp at Boux a letter, which fell into the hands of the

republicans, and was read at a public sitting of the Convention.[110]

“We are beginning to get tired of this war, in respect of which MM.

_les émigrés_ had promised us more butter than bread. We have to fight

against troops of the line who never desert, and national troops who

remain at their posts. The peasants, who are armed, fire on our men,

and if one of them is found alone or asleep in a house he is murdered.

The weather, since our entry into France, has been horrible; it rains

in torrents every day, and the roads are so bad that at the present

moment we cannot move our cannon; moreover, we are almost in a state

of famine. We have the greatest difficulty in obtaining bread for the

soldiers, and meat is often wanting; many of the officers remain for

five or six days without warm food. Our shoes and cloaks are rotten,

and our men are beginning to fall ill; the villages are deserted, and

provide neither vegetables, nor brandy, nor flour; I do not know what

we shall do, nor what will become of us.”

This letter expresses a discouragement that must have been general,

and circumstances were favourable to Dumouriez in preparing for the

attack; but it was indispensable that he should at any cost prevent

the allied army from occupying the Argonne pass. The forest was

impenetrable except by five passages, which it was necessary to guard

and hold against the enemy. These passes were the Chêne-Populeux, the

Croix-au-Bois, the Grand-Pré, the Chalade and the Islettes. A camp

placed at the Islettes and a position taken up at the Chalade would

close the two principal roads to Clermont and to Varennes, and General

Dillon was despatched for the purpose. Dumouriez established himself

at Grand-Pré, to close the roads to Rheims and to the Croix-au-Bois.

He sent orders to General Duval, then at Pont-sur-Sambre, to break

up his camp at once and advance by forced marches to the pass of the

Chêne-Populeux.

Dumouriez felt certain of success, but an act of imprudence frustrated

his hopes.

The pass of the Croix-au-Bois had been considered less important than

the others, and was only defended by a couple of battalions of infantry

and two squadrons of cavalry. Dumouriez, in the stress of the moment,

had not had the time to see and judge personally of the importance of

this pass, but the German spies, employed to inspect the different

French posts, informed the Duke of Brunswick of the advantages of this

badly-guarded pass. Clairfayt confided the attack to Prince Charles

de Ligne, who started on the 13th of September at early dawn to seize

it. The abatis intended to bar the road had been carelessly made,

the half-buried branches not offering any resistance to the enemy;

the imperialists easily forced a passage, and the roads had been so

slightly damaged that they made their way at once. They met with hardly

any resistance, and easily carried the position. The men who held it

hastily fell back on Dumouriez’s camp; the latter, anxious at the turn

things were taking, immediately despatched two brigades of infantry,

and six squadrons of cavalry, to General Chazot, with orders to

recapture the pass at any cost. Chazot spent the day without attacking,

but, on receiving fresh and urgent orders to risk an attack, he opened

fire on the morning of the 14th.

The attack and the defence were vigorous; six times the post was

carried by the French, and as often recaptured by the Austrians. Prince

Charles sees that in order to keep the position it is necessary to

capture a French battery, which, cleverly placed, is inflicting heavy

losses on the Austrians. A vigorous charge is necessary; the Prince in

person leads the attack on the battery; eight men in the front rank are

shot dead. He dashes forward himself, the ninth, but, shot through the

head by a bullet, he reels for a moment in the saddle, and falls back

dead.

The French regained possession of the pass, and raised the body of the

unfortunate Prince. They found two gold chains with a locket round his

neck, and in his pocket an unfinished letter.

Clairfayt, in despair at the cruel loss the army had sustained,

hastened to avenge it, and took possession of the Croix-au-Bois.

He immediately claimed the body of the Prince, and it was at once given

up. Mass was celebrated in the camp the following morning, and the

coffin started for Mons. At that moment M. de Villeneuve Laroche, a

guest at Bel Œil, and a friend of Prince Charles, arrived on the scene.

“On the battlefield,” he says, “where yesterday the republicans were

defeated, I met a funeral procession, escorted by a few foreign troops,

going in the direction of Hainault. It was that of the young Prince de

Ligne, who was killed in the fight, and the body was being taken to his

unhappy father at Bel Œil.”

Prince Charles’s death was universally deplored; his brilliant

military qualities caused him to be regretted by the whole army; the

Baron de Breteuil wrote from Verdun to the Comte de Fersen: “Yesterday

Clairfayt’s army came in for a sharp fight at the outposts, in which,

however, it was victorious. Clairfayt’s army lost in the attack

five or six hundred men, but what deeply affects me is that Prince

Charles de Ligne was killed. I loved him from a child; he was the most

distinguished amongst the Austrians of the same age. His father will

feel the loss terribly.”

Prince Charles’s body was conveyed to Bel Œil, after passing through

Mons[111] at night, but his father was no longer there; he had been

recalled, with Marshal de Lascy, to Vienna.

When the terrible news arrived no one dared to tell him of it, and the

Marshal alone had the courage to undertake the delicate mission. He

sent the Prince word that he had received bad news from Clairfayt’s

army, adding that he would himself come and inform him of it. “My

son is wounded!” said the Prince as the Marshal entered. The latter

remained silent. “But speak, good God!...”--“Alas! I would not, or I

could not, understand,” he writes, “when he said that dreadful word:

_Dead!_... I feel crushed by the news, and he had almost to carry me

away in his arms. I see it still, the spot where I was when the Marshal

told me that my poor Charles was killed; I see my poor Charles himself,

as he welcomed me every day with the sunshine of his happy and good

face. I had dreamt a few days before that he had received a mortal

wound in the head, and had fallen dead from his horse. For five or six

days I was anxious, but as one always treats as a weakness that which

is often a warning, or perhaps a feeling of nature when there are ties

of blood, I cast from my thoughts the fatal foreboding which was only

too soon to be realised!”

The Prince never got over his son’s death, and he entirely lost all

enjoyment in life. This sad recollection had made in his heart a

deep and incurable wound. “That so light-hearted a man,” says Count

Ouvaroff, “who had lived through so much and was so careless of

misfortune, should ten years after this calamity break down at the bare

mention of the beloved name! No one dared utter it in his presence; if

he happened to speak of his son his voice would betray the intensity of

his grief, and his eyes fill with tears.” There is something strangely

touching in this picture of the old man, formerly so worldly and

sceptical, as we should say nowadays, who _would not be comforted_

because he still thought of the child of his heart who was no longer.

“There is,” said the Prince with admirable philosophy, when shortly

after he lost all his fortune, “there is a terrible method of rising

above circumstances. It is bought at the cost of a great grief. If the

soul has been wounded by the loss of all that is dearest, I defy minor

misfortunes to touch it; loss of wealth, total ruin, persecutions,

injustice, everything sinks into insignificance.”

FOOTNOTES:

[104] The expenses of this banquet amounted to nine thousand eight

hundred and ninety-five livres. (_Archives of Mons._)

[105] Oh Richard! oh my King! the whole world forsakes thee.

[106] Villeneuve Laroche, _Memoirs on Quiberon_.

[107] On the 11th June 1792 the inauguration of the Emperor François

II. took place at Mons. By letters patent granted at Vienna on the 19th

March, the new Emperor had authorised the Duc Albert de Saxe-Teschen

to represent him in this ceremony, and to take the customary oaths

in his name. The Duke Albert having in his turn appointed the Prince

de Ligne, Grand Bailiff of Hainault, to perform these duties, the

latter conferred the honour on Prince Charles, his eldest son. (Note

communicated by M. Deviller, keeper of the records at Mons.)

[108] The hôtel de Ligne was on the Rue de la Grosse Pomme, it is now a

hospital for incurables.

[109] The Archduke Charles-Louis, born in 1771, and youngest brother

of the Emperor François, was one of the best Austrian generals during

Napoleon’s wars; it is rather curious to study the outset of his

military career.

[110] _Moniteur_, “Sitting of the Convention,” Thursday evening, 27th

September 1792.

[111] Forty years ago, at Mons, there were old men who remembered

Prince Charles’s death as an event which afflicted the whole city.

XIII

Prince Charles’s will--Hélène receives the news of her husband’s

death--Departure for Werky--Hélène marries Count Potocki.

The unhappy Prince de Ligne had immediately sent to Bel Œil the

necessary instructions for his son’s last wishes to be fulfilled,

but the victory of Jemappes, which ceded the whole of Belgium to the

French, prevented the de Ligne family from returning to Bel Œil, now

in the hands of the enemy. Prince Charles’s wishes were contained

in a will written shortly before his death. We shall see that he

instinctively felt he would fall a victim in the course of this war.

Perhaps, indeed, weary of life, he sought death, for he seemed to brave

it; at all events the deepest melancholy overshadows the following

pages:--

PRINCE CHARLES DE LIGNE’S WILL.

“As I shall most probably be killed, if not in this war at least

in some other, I wish my body to be recovered and my funeral to

be conducted with all the honours of war, and with the greatest

pomp--military, of course.

“I wish my body to be carried to Bel Œil, after having been embalmed,

so as not to incommode any one, for I desire to be laid with my good

ancestors, who from father to son have all been honest men.

“I desire that my heart be wrapped up separately in a handkerchief

which shall have belonged to her I love, and which I beg her to give

for that purpose. As she has always possessed my heart during my

lifetime, I wish it, after my death, to be as happy as a heart can

be in the absence of the beloved one, that is to say, in company

with something that has been her’s. I beg her to embroider on the

first corner of the handkerchief _Alona_; on the second _Tendresse

delicieuse_; on the third _Indissoluble_; and on the fourth the 21st

September 1787, and the date of my death.

“I.--The whole of my collection of engravings, my collection of

original drawings, and in general all the contents of my portfolios,

are to be sold to the best purchaser. One will have to see in what

country the sale will be most advantageous, whether in Paris, Vienna,

London, or Amsterdam.

“_Nota bene._--Should any of my family wish to have these, he can take

them at the estimated value, which, however, cannot be less than a

hundred thousand German florins; for the drawings are really priceless,

as I have none of inferior value, and all are recognised originals.

This will, therefore, bring in a clear sum of a hundred thousand

florins, which will be completely my own, and quite independent of the

succession due to my natural heirs, which I leave to them according to

law. This sum of a hundred thousand florins is to be divided into two

parts: eighty thousand are to be sunk in an annuity for the benefit of

my natural daughter Christine, so that there will be eight thousand

florins a year for her keep and education, which, up to the age of

fifteen, may be five hundred florins, and a thousand florins up to the

age of twenty, at which time she will probably be married, and can

then spend her money as she chooses: In such a manner, however, that

she shall not spend more than eight thousand florins; and that all the

money saved on this sum, up to the age of twenty or five-and-twenty, if

she does not marry before, shall be placed out at four or five per cent

interest; this will become her children’s property, care being taken

always to add the interest to the capital.

“II.--Should she die without children, Norokos is to be her heir. As I

am the adopted father of Norokos, the Turkish child I found abandoned

during the war, the remaining sum of twenty thousand florins out of

the hundred thousand realised by the sale shall be sunk in the same

way on his account. The directions as to its use are the same as for

little Christine. Should he die without children, Christine is to be

his heir. I recommend their marrying, if they have any inclination one

for the other; it is my greatest wish, and I beg my sister Christine

to encourage this. I appoint her their guardian, and in default of my

sister Christine, I appoint Madame la Comtesse Thérèse Dietrichstein,

formerly married to Comte de Kinsky. I bequeath also to little

Christine the portrait of her mother, painted by Le Clerc, and the

chain I wear round my neck, with the following words on the clasps:

‘Ces liens me sont chers’ (these ties are precious to me). I beg her

never to part with it, but always to wear it as a remembrance of myself

and of the person who gave it to me.

“III.--My dispositions for the servants.

“I bequeath to Norokos my damaskeened Turkish gun with gold mountings,

and my sabre with the steel guard--the one I carried during this war,

in order that he may remember that it is to war he owes his condition;

that he must look upon a military career as his fortune, his element;

and upon the army as his country.

“IV.--I bequeath to my father the small painting by Le Clerc and M.

Duvivier’s drawing, both representing the fight at Pösig, and I beg

that my crosses of the orders of Merit and that of Saint George be

suspended from them, since I won them by my father’s example; and as

also I owe the happiness of having acquired some friends in the army

through listening to all Lieutenant Wolff said to my father when dying,

and remembering it all my life.

“V.--I bequeath to my sister Christine all my framed drawings, with the

miniatures, cameos, and small frames.

“VI.--I bequeath to my daughter Sidonie her mother’s portrait, so

that she may remember not to follow her example, and the Turkish

sabre given me by Prince Potemkin, which she is always to keep in her

room, so that her children may understand that I intend them to become

soldiers; when her son fights his first battle, in which, I trust, he

will distinguish himself, she will give him this sabre from me.

“VII.--I bequeath to Madame de Kinsky, who was Countess Dietrichstein

by birth, all the framed engravings I have in my apartment at Bel Œil,

and also the chain I wear round my neck which was given me by her

dearest friend; I venture, on this account, to beg that she will wear

it all her life, in remembrance of one whose happiness was bound up

with that of Madame de Kinsky; this I positively affirm.

“VIII.--I bequeath to Madame la Princesse de Lichtenstein, a Mandesch

by birth, several things I have at Brussels, which will be described

later on, and besides these my watch, as a token that the happiest

hours it has told are those I spent with her, and that to the very last

I thought of her as a friend whose place in my heart was next to the

one I have always adored.

“IX.--I bequeath to the Princess Jablonowska, Countess Czaski by birth,

several things I have at Brussels, which will hereafter be named,

and also the ring I always wear with the motto ‘Indissoluble,’ the

small portfolio with the chain, and the other portfolios or caskets

containing letters and manuscripts written by myself. I give this last

proof of my confidence to her who has most claims on my gratitude for

past kindness, who has best understood the nature of my thoughts, of

my troubles,--in short, to a true friend, whom I am sure not to forget

even in the other world.

“X.--I bequeath to the Princess Linowska, Thun by birth, my fine

edition of Shakespeare’s works, and the best English horse in my

stable, on condition that it will be kept exclusively for her use.

“XI.--I bequeath to Mademoiselle Caroline de Thun my eight handsome

silver candlesticks, and my handsome coffee-pot, and besides this an

annuity of twenty ducats, in order that she may procure for herself

wherever she goes, and even in the house which she most frequents, the

best arm-chair or couch that can possibly be made.

“XII.--I bequeath to Madame de Woina[112] a table and a tea-service,

in order that she may remember the pleasure I had in going to take tea

with her; also two Turkish sabres for her children, Maurice and Felix.

“XIII.--I bequeath to my good friend Poniatowski, my sabre set with

Marshal Laudon’s stone, and also the shoulder belt, requesting him to

wear it should he meet the enemy, in honour of one who to save his life

would willingly have sacrificed his own. Also my fine horse Winer, so

that he may be cared for all his life.

“XIV.--I bequeath to my brother Louis the King of Poland’s sabre and

Marlborough’s pistols.

“XV.--I bequeath to my friend François, Comte de Dietrichstein, the

arms found with me if I am killed, or that belong to me should I die

a natural death, excepting those disposed of by special legacies; I

beg him to collect and distribute the above-named legacies, and I am

certain that he will not leave my body to the enemy. Should, however,

an accident intervene, such as his being wounded himself, he must

neglect nothing in having it reclaimed, with the chains and other

things I wear on my person.

“XVI.--The portraits of Mesdames de Kinsky, Lichtenstein, Jablonowska,

Linowska, and Caroline, as well as Poniatowski’s and that of Madame de

Woina, which I request may be obtained, shall be placed in my apartment

in the tower at Bel Œil, where I have already placed the coloured

prints belonging to Madame de Kinsky. My wife’s portrait is to be

previously removed and placed in the lumber-room. This chamber is to

become a Temple to Friendship, and over the door shall be inscribed the

words: _Abode of the inseparable_.

“I request that my bust shall be placed on a pedestal in the centre of

the tower, and turned in the direction of Madame de Kinsky’s portrait,

and I beg my father to compose and have engraved on this pedestal some

verses describing the happiness I have enjoyed in her society; but they

must not contain any praise of myself; under each portrait he will

write in verse a description of the person represented.

“XVII.--Arrangements for my household (not copied).

“XVIII.--I bequeath to Madame de Kinsky my good dog Tristan, that he

may be taken good care of; he has been treated by me as I was by her,

like a good and ever-faithful dog.”

_Note added by the Countess Dietrichstein._--“The body was embalmed,

and, considering the circumstances, sent to Bel Œil by mail coach.

A Mass was said at the headquarters at Boux, in the presence of all

the officers; and orders were given that the last honours should be

rendered to his memory on the passage of the coffin through Mons, where

he was well known and beloved.

“In order to carry out his wishes as much as possible, the handkerchief

will be placed in his coffin; the date he asks for is unfortunately

from the 21st of September 1787 to the 14th of September 1792.”

Notwithstanding the mysterious reserve with which the Prince expresses

himself, it is difficult not to believe that Madame de Kinsky was the

secret object of his deep attachment. On reading his last wishes, so

imbued with nobleness, tenderness, and generosity, we wonder how Hélène

could have so misunderstood him, and obliged him as it were to transfer

his affection to another. Perhaps she was not entirely responsible

for their disunion; a mother or a friend like Madame de Rochechouart

might have guarded her at the outset from many an imprudent step. It

was impossible to expect experience and wisdom in a child of fifteen.

During the last two years she had begun to feel how dearly they are

purchased.

All this time Hélène had remained alone at Kowalowska. Notwithstanding

the imprudences her passion for the Count had led her to commit, she

had never for one moment entertained any other idea than that of

marriage, though she knew in what light her conduct was judged by the

world.

Mortified and discouraged, Hélène was giving herself up to the

gloomiest ideas, when she suddenly received the news of her husband’s

death. The sudden transition from despair to joy stunned her at first;

but soon only one feeling possessed her soul, that of her freedom, and

she hurriedly wrote these few lines to the Count:--

“A cannon-ball has carried off Prince Charles. I am free; it is God’s

will: _This cannon was loaded from all eternity!_”[113] And absorbed

in the selfishness of her passion, she did not for one instant regret

the first companion of her life, or shed a tear for the father of her

child. His glorious and touching end did not inspire her with an atom

of pity.

And then, as if, indeed, death had received from God the mission of

removing all possible obstacles to Hélène’s happiness, a few days later

the second son of the Countess Anna died of a gangrenous sore throat,

before his unhappy mother was able to reach him; and that nothing might

be wanting to complete the romance, the Princess heard almost at the

same moment of the death of her brother Xavier, leaving her heiress to

an income of six hundred thousand livres.[114]

The Count had reached Niemirow in time to see his son, of whom, it must

be added, Hélène had taken the utmost care. He wrote in all haste

to the Countess Anna to tell her the fatal news, and then in another

letter he announced to her Prince Charles’s death, and offered to give

her back at once her eldest son, François, in exchange for her consent

to their divorce. The unfortunate woman resisted no longer, she only

begged that the legal forms should be carefully observed in obtaining

the consent of the Court of Rome, hoping that in the interval her

husband might return to her before the last step was taken. Directly

after his mother’s answer the little Count François, accompanied by his

governess and servants, started to meet her.

Without loss of time Hélène wrote to her uncle, whose character she

well understood; she told him of her husband’s death, and implored his

aid for the settlement of her brother’s affairs; she ended by asking

him to see Count Vincent, who would be able to explain many important

details difficult to negotiate in writing. She sent this letter to the

Prince-Bishop by Major Hoffman, a Polish gentleman attached to the

service of the Lord Chamberlain.

The embassy was a complete success. The prelate, calculating that Count

Vincent Potocki living would be infinitely more useful to him than the

Prince de Ligne dead, wrote to the Count, and begged him to come and

see him when he should next go to Warsaw, and in the meanwhile offered

to receive his niece at Werky. Hélène sent the following reply:--

_December 1792._

“MY VERY DEAR AND VERY HONOURED UNCLE--It is with the deepest

gratitude that I received through Major Hoffman the assurance of your

paternal disposition towards me. It has awakened in me the warmest and

strongest feelings. Pray receive, my dear uncle, my compliments and my

thanks. Many things at present prevent my going to see you as I should

wish, but as soon as, by the grace of God, I am able to do so, I shall

have the honour of presenting myself in person, and reiterating to

you the deep respect with which I have the honour to subscribe myself,

my very dear and revered uncle, your very humble and obedient servant

and niece,

“HÉLÈNE MASSALSKA,

“Rowager-Princesse de Ligne.”

Then she wrote to the Count Vincent: “I do not advise you to await the

arrival of the Prince-Bishop before writing to him, for he is one of

those persons who never know when they will start or when they will

arrive. You could send a messenger to Werky, who would wait for an

answer, which might perhaps hurry on matters; but if the Prince-Bishop

could see you, he would do every thing you wish, and we should be

happy.”

The Count did not make up his mind to go, and Hélène, fearing his

capricious and irresolute character, went to Werky herself. She

entreated her uncle to apply to the Pope, so as to hasten the

formalities necessary for the divorce, for she was in daily fear that

the project on which she had set her heart should fall through.

Everything took place in accordance with the Princess’s wishes, and

_three months_ after the death of Prince Charles de Ligne the marriage

of Hélène and Count Potocki was celebrated at midnight in the Chapel

of the Convent of the Bernadines near Werky. The apparent motive of

this secrecy was the Princess’s mourning, as yet too recent to allow

of an official wedding; but it must be added that the permission for

a divorce had not yet arrived from Rome, and only came three months

later. It required all the influence of the Prince-Bishop to obtain a

priest that should celebrate the marriage under such conditions.

On entering the Chapel, and at the moment of realising the happiness

she so ardently desired, Hélène experienced the deepest emotion,

mingled with a vague sense of terror. She knelt beside the Count,

and remained motionless, her eyes fixed on the ground, and absorbed

in her thoughts. When the Count gave her his hand to lead her to the

altar she rose to her feet, but suddenly stopped short, with a fixed

and terrified gaze, a prey to the most terrible hallucination. By the

flickering light of the wax tapers she fancied she saw three coffins

laid across her path, which she would have to step over on her way to

the altar. The Count, appalled at Hélène’s terrified look, inquired in

a low voice the cause of her alarm; the sound of his voice recalled her

to herself, and, chasing away the horrible vision by a strong effort of

will, she resolutely ascended the three steps of black marble, which a

moment before had presented such a sinister appearance. The bridal pair

returned to Werky, and the terrible moment was soon forgotten.

After a prolonged stay in Lithuania, during which the Lord Chamberlain

visited his wife’s extensive domains, they both returned to Ukrania,

and Hélène triumphantly entered the Count’s abode, whither she had

gone in such fear and trembling at the time of his illness. The past

and all its sorrows were forgotten, and, radiant with happiness, she

wrote to her husband, who was absent for a few days: “To-morrow I shall

see you again, and see you still the same, for I do not want you ever

to change in the smallest degree: virtues, attractions, wit, faults,

caprices, all are precious to me; if you were more perfect, you would

no longer be the Vincent for whose sake I should have been guilty of

the greatest folly, if kind heaven had not permitted that all should be

for the best in the end.”

FOOTNOTES:

[112] These three ladies were sisters.

[113] These were the words Madame de Sévigné used when writing to Bussy

Rabutin on the death of Turenne.

[114] Twenty-four thousand pounds.

THE END

_Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, _Edinburgh_.

_S. & H._