The Journal of Countess Francoise Krasinska Part 1

The Journal of Countess Francoise Krasinska.

by Kasimir Dziekonska.

IN THE CASTLE OF MALESZOW, _Monday, January 1, 1759_.

One week ago--it was Christmas day--my honored Father ordered to be brought to him a huge book, in which for many years he has written with his own hand all the important things which have happened in our country; also copies of the notable pamphlets, speeches, manifestoes, public and private letters, occasional poems, etc., and having placed everything in the order of its date, he showed us this precious collection and read to us some extracts. I was much pleased with his idea of recording interesting facts and circ.u.mstances; and as I know how to write pretty well in Polish and in French, and have heard that in France some women have written their memoirs, I thought, "Why should not I try to do something of the kind?"

So I have made a big copy-book by fastening together many sheets of paper, and I shall note down, as accurately as I am able, everything which may happen to me and to my family, and I shall also mention public affairs as they happen, as far as I may be acquainted with them.

To-day is New Year's Day and Monday, a very proper season to begin something new. I am at leisure; the morning Service is finished, I am dressed and my hair is curled; ten is just striking on the castle clock, so I have two hours till dinner time. Well, I begin.

I was born in 1742, so I am just past my sixteenth birthday. I received at the christening the name of Francoise. I have heard more than once that I am pretty, and sometimes looking in the mirror, I think so myself. "One has to thank G.o.d, and not to boast," says my gracious Mother; "it is He that hath made us and not we ourselves." I have black hair and eyes, a fair complexion and rosy cheeks. I should like to be a little taller, but they frighten me by saying I shall not grow any more. I am descended from the not only n.o.ble, but very old and ill.u.s.trious family of Korwin Krasinski. G.o.d forbid I should ever tarnish the glorious name I am fortunate enough to bear! on the contrary I should like much to add to its fame, and I am often sorry I am not a man, as I should then have more opportunities.

The Count, my honored Father, and the Countess, are so sensible of the grandeur of the Korwin Krasinski family, and they so often speak of it,--not only they, but our courtiers and our guests as well,--and it is thought by all to be such a great reproach not to know precisely about our ancestors, that we all have our heads full of that kind of information. I can recite the genealogy of the Krasinskis and the history of each of them as perfectly as my morning prayer, and I think that I should have more difficulty in telling the names of our Polish kings in chronological order than in telling those of my ancestors. The pictures of the most ill.u.s.trious are in our hall,[1] but it would take too long to write about each of them. The first of whom we know anything was Warcislaus Korwin, from the old Roman family of Corvinus, who, in the eleventh century, came from Hungary to Poland and was appointed the Hetman (General-in-chief) of the army of King Boleslaus II.

[1] They are still in Count Adam Krasinski's palace in Warsaw.

Having espoused a n.o.ble lady of the name of Pobog, Korwin united his crest--a raven holding a ring--to that of the Pobogs--a hand grasping a sabre--and such is still our cognizance. His grandson was the first to take the name Krasinski, that is, _of Krasin_, from an estate bestowed upon him by the King as a reward for his bravery; and from that time forward many hetmans, castellans, woivodes,[2] bishops, etc., made the Krasinski name famous in Polish history.

[2] Governors of provinces.

One of them, Alexander, in this very same Maleszow Castle where I am now quietly writing, resisted so bravely a great Tartar army, in one of its plundering excursions from Asia, that the chief was obliged to retreat; but before leaving, he sent to the valorous castellan, as a token of his admiration, the most precious thing he possessed,--namely, a clock, of very simple construction, it is true, but a great wonder at that time. This curious relic, this gift from an enemy,--and he a Tartar, more accustomed to take than to give,--is still preserved with great care in our family; I have seen it but twice in my life, my honored Father keeping it so carefully, and I am sure he would not exchange it for ten Paris clocks with all their chimes.

This valiant ancestor of mine was killed in a war with Russia, and left no son. His nephew John built in Warsaw a magnificent palace in the Italian style, which is said to be more beautiful than the King's Castle; but I have not seen it, as I have never been in our capital.

John's brother, Alexander, the castellan of Sandomir, was my own grandfather. His son, Stanislaus, the Staroste[3] of Nova Wies and Uscie, is my honored and beloved Father; he married Angela Humiecka, the daughter of the famous Woivode of Podole, my honored and beloved Mother. But, to my great sorrow, this line of the Krasinski family will become extinct with the Count, my Father, as he has four daughters, but no son: Basia (a pet name for Barbara) is the eldest; I am the second; then comes Kasia (Katherine); and Marynia (Mary) is the youngest.

[3] Honorary judge.

The courtiers tell me often I am the handsomest, but I am sure I do not see it; we all have the bearing becoming young ladies of high station, daughters of a Staroste; we are straight as poplars, with complexions white as snow and cheeks pink as roses; our waists, especially when Madame ties us fast in our stays, can be, as they say, "clasped with one hand." In the parlor before guests we know how to make our courtesy, low or _degage_, according to their importance; we have been taught to sit quiet on the very edge of a stool, with our eyes cast down and our hands folded, so that one might think we were not able to count three or were too prim even to walk out of the room easily. But people would think differently if they saw us on a summer morning, when we are allowed to go to the woods in morning gowns and without stays, puffs, coiffures, or high-heeled shoes: oh! how we climb the steep hillsides, and run and shout and sing, till our poor Madame is quite out of breath from running and calling after us.

As yet I and my two younger sisters have seldom left home: Konskie, the home of our aunt, the Woivodine[4] Malachowska, whom we visit twice a year; Piotrowice, where my honored Father, after his return from Italy, built a beautiful chapel, like the one in Loretto; Lisow, where stands our parish church,--these bound all our experiences in travelling. But Basia, as the eldest, has already seen a good part of this world: she has been twice to Opole, visiting our aunt, the Princess Lubomirska, Woivodine of Lublin, whom my Father loves and venerates as a mother rather than as an elder sister. Basia has spent also one year in the convent of the Ladies of the Visitation at Warsaw, and so, of course, she knows more than any of us: her courtesies are the lowest, and her manners the most stately.

[4] Wife of a woivode.

My honored Parents are thinking now of sending me also somewhere to finish my education; I am expecting every day to see the carriage drive up to the door, and then my gracious Mother will tell me to sit beside her, and she will take me either to Warsaw or to Cracow. I am perfectly happy at home, but Basia liked the convent very much, so I hope that I shall; and then I shall improve in the French language, which is now indispensable for a lady; also in music and in dancing, and besides that I shall see a great town, our capital.

As I have not seen many castles besides Maleszow, I cannot judge whether it is pretty or not. I only know that I like it very much. Some people think that our castle, with its four stories and its four bastions, surrounded with a moat full of water crossed by a drawbridge, and situated amidst forests in a rocky country, looks rather gloomy, but I do not think so at all. I am so happy here that I should like to sing and dance all day long.

I hear my honored Parents complaining sometimes that they are not quite comfortable here. It is true that, although on each floor there are besides the parlor, six large rooms and four smaller ones in the bastions, we cannot all be accommodated on the same floor, as we are a very numerous family. The dining-rooms are on the first, the dancing hall on the second, and we girls have to occupy the third floor. My honored Parents are no longer young, and it fatigues them to go up and down every day, but for me these stairs are just my delight! Often, when I have not yet all my puffs on, I grasp the stair-rail and I am down in one second without my foot once touching the steps. Oh! it is such fun!

It is true our many guests may sometimes be crowded a little in their sleeping rooms, but nevertheless, they visit us often, and I do not know that we could amuse ourselves better in a more s.p.a.cious palace. I think the Maleszow Castle, if three times as large, could not be more magnificent; it is so gay and lively that the neighbors often call it little Paris. We are especially gay when winter comes; then the captain of our dragoons does not lift up the drawbridge until night, so many people are continually driving in and out, and our court-band has enough to do playing every day for us to dance.

But I ought not to forget to speak about the retinue of our Castle, which, in accordance with the rank of my honored Parents, is very numerous and stately.

There are two cla.s.ses of courtiers,--the honorary and the salaried ones, all alike n.o.bles, with the sword at their side.

The first are about twenty in number; their duties are to wait in the morning for the Count's entrance, to be ready for any service he may require, to accompany him when visiting or riding, to defend him in case of need, to give him their voice at the Diet, and to play cards and amuse him and his guests.

This last duty is best performed by our Matenko (Mathias), the fool or court jester, as the other courtiers call him; but he does not at all deserve that sobriquet, as his judgment is very correct and his repartees are very witty. Of all the courtiers he is the most privileged, being allowed to speak whenever he chooses and to tell the truth frankly.

To the honorary members of our court belong also six girls of good family, who live on the same floor with us under the superintendence of our Madame, and also two dwarfs. One of the latter is about forty, but of the size of a four-year-old child; he is dressed as a Turk. The other, still smaller and very graceful and pretty, is eighteen years old, and they dress him as a Cossack. Sometimes, for sport, my honored Mother orders him to be put on the dinner table, and he walks about among the bottles and the plates as easily as if he were in a garden.

The honorary courtiers receive no pay, almost all of them being the sons and daughters of rather wealthy parents, who send them to our castle for training in courtly etiquette. The men receive, nevertheless, provision for two horses, and two florins[5] weekly for their valets. These servants are dressed, some as Cossacks, some as Hungarians, and stand behind their masters' chairs at meals. There is no special dinner table for them, but they must be satisfied with what their masters leave on their plates, and you should see how they follow with a covetous eye each morsel on its way from the plate to the master's mouth! I do not dare to look at them, partly from fear of laughing, and partly out of pity.

[5] The Polish florin is worth twenty cents.

The salaried courtiers are much more numerous. They do not come to our table, except the chaplain, the physician and the secretary. The marshal and the butler walk around the table watching if anything is wanted; they pour the wine into the gla.s.ses, often replenis.h.i.+ng for the guests, but only on feast days keeping the gla.s.s full for the courtiers. The commissary, the treasurer, the equerry, the gentleman usher, the masters of the wardrobe, all dine at the marshal's table. To tell the truth, those who sit at our table have more honor than profit, for they do not always have the same kind of food that we have, although it comes from the same dish. For instance, when the meats are brought in, there will be on the dish game or domestic fowl on the top, and plain roast beef, or roast pork, underneath. Each course is brought on two enormous dishes, and it seems almost impossible such heaps could disappear; yet the last man served gets often but scanty bits of food, and whether there are four courses, as on week days, or seven, as on Sundays, or twelve, as on festivals, I do not remember having seen anything left on our table.

The salaried courtiers receive quite high pay, from three hundred to a thousand florins annually, also provender for two horses each, and the livery for their valets; but then the Count expects them all to present themselves well dressed. When he is especially pleased with one of them he rewards him generously, and every year on the Count's birthday, rich presents in dresses and money are distributed.

But this is not our whole retinue; there are also the chamberlains,--young boys from fifteen to twenty years of age, of n.o.ble families, who perform a kind of novitiate in our service. Their duties are to be always in attendance, to accompany our carriage on horseback, and to be ready for all kinds of errands; thus if my honored Parents have letters to be carried in haste, or presents or invitations to be sent, they always send the chamberlains. One of them, Michael Chronowski, will finish his novitiate on Epiphany, and then will come the ceremony of liberation, which I shall describe in its place.

As for other people belonging to our retinue, it would be difficult to enumerate them; I am sure I do not know how many there are of musicians, cooks, linkboys, cossacks, hostlers, valets, chamberlains, and boy and girl servants. I know only there are five different dinner tables, and two stewards are busy from morning till night, giving out the provisions for the meals. Very often, especially when fresh supplies are brought in, my honored Mother is herself present in the storeroom; she also keeps the keys of the medicine closet, where spices, dainties, and sweet liquors are kept. Every morning the marshal brings to her the dinner and supper menu, which she, with the advice of my honored Father, either changes or approves.

The arrangement of our day's occupation is as follows: we rise at six o'clock in summer, at seven in winter. All four of us sleep in the same room with Madame, and each has an iron bedstead with curtains around it. Basia, as the eldest, has two pillows and a silk coverlet; we, the younger, have but one pillow and a woollen blanket.

Having said a French prayer with Madame, we begin our lessons at once. At first the chaplain taught us the catechism, and with our tutor we learned how to read and write in Polish; but now he teaches only my two younger sisters, for Basia and I study with Madame only.

We learn vocabularies, dialogues, and anecdotes by heart from a text-book. At eight we go downstairs to wish our honored Parents good-morning and to have breakfast. Then we go to the chapel, where, after the ma.s.s, the chaplain reads Latin prayers, which we all repeat after him aloud. Returning to our room, we learn German vocabularies, we write letters and exercises, and Madame dictates to us the verses of a French poet, Malesherbes. We have a spinet and are taught to play upon it by a German teacher, who directs our orchestra; for this service he receives three hundred florins annually. We all study music and Basia plays not badly at all.

When our lessons are over we put on wrappers and the coiffeur comes to dress our hair, beginning with the eldest. This is a long and often painful operation, especially when he is inventing some new coiffure. As my hair is the thickest and the longest (it drags on the floor when I am sitting before the dressing-table), it is on my head that he generally makes his experiments. It is true that he does make very beautiful and wonderful coiffures; for instance, the one I have to-day, is so pretty, having a _laisser aller_ effect: all my hair is lifted up very high; half of it is arranged in puffs on the top of the head, and the other half falls in loose curls on the neck and the shoulders; there must have been at least a half-pound of powder used in it. Our dressing takes two or three hours, during which Madame reads to us a new French book, the "Magasin des Enfants" by Madame Beaumont.

At noon, at the Angelus bell, we go down to dinner, and then, our honored Parents allow us to remain with them for the rest of the day. We sit generally two hours at table; after that if the weather is favorable we take a walk; if not, we always have some needle-work on hand for our church in Piotrowice. We sit at our embroidery frames as long as we can see, and when the lights are brought in, we make netting or do some such light work. There are always many wax tapers burning in silver candelabra, and although they are rather yellow, being home-made from our own wax, they give a very bright light.

Supper is at seven, and afterwards the evening is given to amus.e.m.e.nt. Sometimes we play cards, "Marriage" or "Drujbart,"

and it is such fun to see the faces Matenko makes, according as he gets a seven or a trump!

Once a week a chamberlain goes to Warsaw to bring the newspapers and letters, and then the chaplain reads aloud the "Gazette" and the "Courier." At times my honored Father reads the old chronicles to us; sometimes they are very dull, and sometimes very interesting. During the Carnival, there is seldom any reading, but there are games, music, and dances. I cannot imagine how they can amuse themselves better at the court in Warsaw; how can it be anywhere gayer than in our Maleszow?

Still, I should like so much, if only out of curiosity, to have just a taste of that court life. But what do I hear? There is the noon bell! I must say the Angelus in haste, see if my coiffure is in order, and run downstairs, leaving for to-morrow all that I intended to write to-day.

_Tuesday_, January 2.

Yesterday, I wrote about myself and my home; to-day I want to write about my country. I should not be a worthy Pole if I were not interested in what happens in my own land. People in our house talk much about Poland, and I have always listened attentively, but much more so since I resolved to write this journal.

Our present king is Augustus III., Elector of Saxony, son and successor of Augustus II. On the seventeenth of this month, it will be twenty-five years since the Bishop of Cracow crowned him King of Poland and Lithuania.[6] It is said that he was rather indifferent to the Polish crown, when by his father's death the chance was opened to him; but he was persuaded to become a candidate by his wife, Marie Josephine, daughter of the German Emperor Maximilian. This royal lady was very much beloved by the Poles: she had a very good influence over the king, her husband, and never meddled with any court intrigues; she was charitable, beneficent, pious, a good wife and a good mother, and fully deserved to be called a model of feminine virtues. She died in Dresden two years ago, and I remember well the great sorrow caused by the news of her death. In all the churches there were grand funeral services, also in our Piotrowice, and all the poor people cried and lamented, having lost in her a real mother. She had fourteen children, of whom eleven are living: four sons and seven daughters.

[6] At the end of the fourteenth century these two countries were united by the marriage of Hedvig, queen of Poland, with the prince of Lithuania Jagellon.

The king is said to be of a kindly but rather weak character, and he has the greatest confidence in his minister Bruhl, who in reality is the ruler both of Poland and Saxony. It is said affairs are going all wrong in Saxony, and not much better in our country. I have often heard people say: "We need a Frederic the Great, with a strong head and an iron will;" and as our king is old, they are all looking forward and planning already for his successor. There are two prominent candidates for the throne: one is Stanislaus Poniatowski, who was educated in France, spent four years in Russia as the envoy of Poland, and there became the favorite of the Empress Catherine II. The other candidate is Duke Charles, twenty-six years old, the most beloved of the sons of our present king. People say he has a real gift for attracting all hearts to him; he is very handsome, very stately in figure, and very courteous in manner; and having spent almost his whole life in Poland, he knows our language perfectly. I have heard so much of his good qualities that my best wishes are for him, although Poniatowski is my countryman.

This day will be a memorable one for Duke Charles. A few weeks ago he was elected Duke of Courland, which is a tributary of Poland, and to-day occurs the "invest.i.ture," that is, the giving possession. The king is so happy about the good fortune of his beloved son, that he is said to look ten years younger. What festivals there will be in Warsaw! How I should like to be there now, and to see the grand doings, but especially to see the royal prince. We shall, at least, drink his health here and cry, "Long life to Duke Charles!"

January 3.

Yesterday, just when we were drinking to the health of the Duke of Courland, and our band was doing its best, and our company of dragoons were firing salutes,--at that very moment the chamberlain, who had been sent to Warsaw, returned with the news that on account of the indisposition of the duke, the ceremonies of the invest.i.ture had to be postponed. "Bad omen," said Matenko; "as the mitre slips, so the crown will slip." I felt like crying, but there was no time for that, as many guests were present; among others, the Woivode of Craclaw, Swidinski, with his nephew Father Albert, a Jesuit, whom my honored Parents like and respect greatly. Basia is his special favorite; he brought her a rosary and a prayer book,--"La Journee du Chretien,"--and he spoke several times to her at supper. But then, Basia is the eldest; no wonder everybody pays most attention to her.

_Friday_, January 5.