The Journal of Countess Francoise Krasinska Part 6

The Duke Clement is said to be very good and religious, and he is to enter the Church. It is quite right that the king, having several sons, wishes to give one of them to the service of G.o.d, but it is as well that it was not the lot of the Duke of Courland.

_Tuesday_, March 24.

Although it is Lent, I have a delightful time; the duke runs in as often as he can leave the Castle. He says that he rests here from the etiquette of the court. But to-morrow will be the end of all the worldly pleasure. The princess has a few rooms kept for her in the Convent of the Holy Sacrament, and every year, before Easter, she secludes herself for eight days in order to be well prepared for confession. All the ladies do the same, and I naturally shall accompany the princess. During eight days we shall see only priests and nuns; we shall read only religious books, and work for the Church or the poor.

_Holy Thursday_, April 2.

Our retirement is over, Easter confession is made, and I feel so free in my mind and so quiet in my heart! I had an excellent confessor, Father Bodue; he is all the fas.h.i.+on, as he is French, but even in spite of fas.h.i.+on I would always choose him for my director. He is a saint, and he is so wise! We had many and long conversations with him. He knew so well how to speak to my heart and make it humble and full of contrition, he was so convincing when speaking of the voidness of the things of the world and the dangers of it, that really there were moments when I wanted to leave everything and become a sister of charity in his hospital.

I was just pacing my little cell thinking earnestly about it, when my maid entered and whispered that she saw one of the duke's hunters pa.s.sing near the convent. My devout thoughts were thus scattered and I could not grasp them again.

Still, Father Bodue told me also that one can be saved as well in the world when living virtuously, and that such a life is still more meritorious, as it is more difficult. Why, then, should I shrink from it?

I really regret that this week is over, although we lived in perfect seclusion. To-day we shall see everybody, as we are going to the Castle for the ceremonies of Holy Thursday.

_Friday_, April 10.

Easter is over. I cannot say that those days were unpleasant, but the quietude of thought and heart of one week ago, they are mine no more. Moreover, my conscience has more than one thing to reproach me for, so soon after my most earnest resolves!

For instance, that as early as Holy Thursday I was guilty of a dreadful piece of vanity! Was such a thing ever heard of?

It occurred thus: when I was to put on my mourning-dress, as is the custom in holy week, the princess entered my room followed by two maids carrying a magnificent gown of white satin with a long transparent veil, a wreath of white roses for my hair, and a bouquet for my corsage. I was amazed, but the princess explained that on Holy Thursday after Ma.s.s, said in the chapel of the Castle, the king and all the a.s.semblage go to a large room where twelve poor men are sitting at table, and the king, in imitation of Christ's humility, washes their feet and serves them at dinner. During this ceremony, one of the society young ladies is to make a collection for the poor. The king himself appoints the young lady; this time he named me, and promised to give the collected money to Father Bodue for his hospital, which is being built. I felt overcome with joy hearing this, but it was not because of the poor or Father Bodue; it was simply vanity. I saw myself, not in a heavy black and unbecoming dress, but clad in white, I alone among all the other women,--and thus the handsomest of all! It was wicked, but my conscience feels better now for having confessed it here.

The collection was extremely successful; I had over five thousand ducats. The Prince Charles Radzivill alone, saying "My love![13] one has to give something to such a fair lady," tossed down five hundred gold pieces, so that the tray bent.

[13]The Prince Charles Radzivill had the habit of beginning each sentence with the exclamation "My love!" and therefore he himself was generally called, "the Prince My-love." He was the wealthiest magnate of Lithuania. After the dismemberment of Poland, when all his estates were confiscated, he emigrated to Paris and there bought the whole street between his palace and the market, in order, as he said, that his Polish cook might not lose his way.

That street, near the Louvre, has still the name of "Rue Radzivill."

At first I felt rather timid, my knees were shaking at each low courtesy which I had to make before every person, but by and by I grew bolder, and on that day the lessons of my dancing-master proved to be really useful. The marshal of the court accompanied me telling the names of the persons we were approaching, and when the tray grew too heavy he emptied it into a bag carried by the king's page.

My ears were filled with compliments. The duke told me that it was fortunate that I begged for money, not for hearts, as every man would have to give me his. "I would never ask for such a thing," I answered; "for who would value a heart begged for?" He seemed pleased with my answer,--I wonder how he could imagine that I should think otherwise.

A woman to beg for a heart--even of the king himself,--why! it would be a shameful, base thing. To accept it, when it is offered to her, earnestly and honorably, that is another thing.

But again my thoughts are wandering. To return to my narrative; the ceremony of the was.h.i.+ng of the feet was very touching. I have still before my eyes the king as he was bending over the feet of the poor old men, and as he stood behind their stools at dinner. Moreover, our Augustus III., although no longer young, is very handsome and stately, and everything he does is done in a proper manner. The Duke Charles is quite the likeness of his father.

On Good Friday, we went, dressed in deep mourning, to visit the Holy Sepulchre. We were in seven churches, saying in each of them five Paters and five Aves in honor of the five wounds of Christ; in the cathedral I knelt one hour before the holy Sacrament.

On Sat.u.r.day evening there was a grand "Resurrection Service" in the cathedral; the music by the court orchestra was admirable.

The Easter table in our house was sumptuous, and until yesterday the tables remained covered with all kinds of meat and pastry.[14]

Who would have thought one year ago, when, on the third day after my arrival at the boarding-school, I was sitting at the poor Easter table feeling very melancholy--who would have guessed then that one year later I would eat an Easter egg with the Duke of Courland?

[14]The Easter dinner, or the "consecrated meal," is still a special feature in Poland, and an elaborate affair even among the poorer people. During several days meat and pastry are prepared, and on Holy Sat.u.r.day the tables are set, with the symbolical lamb in the middle, and every dish garnished with sprays of boxwood. Then a priest is summoned, who puts on a white surplice, and saying the appointed prayers he sprinkles the table with holy water.

In the villages on Easter morning the peasants bring baskets with eggs, bread, cheese, and perhaps a sausage, to church, and standing in two rows have them consecrated.

At noon the dinner begins with hot bouillon served in cups; all the other dishes are cold. But first of all, the lady of the house, holding a plate of hard-boiled eggs cut in pieces, presents them to every one in turn, wis.h.i.+ng a "glad Alleluia." The table sometimes stays covered several days, hot dishes being added to succeeding dinners, and the pastry lasts sometimes several weeks, by some mystery remaining as fresh as on the first day.

The children always have their own table, with miniature dishes ornamented with boxwood, a lamb in candy, colored eggs, etc. They would never forget to have them consecrated, and the little girls very earnestly play the hostess, partaking of the eggs with their own guests.

In olden times, the Polish houses tried to surpa.s.s each other in setting the most sumptuous Easter tables. In an old ma.n.u.script is found the following description of a festival given by Prince Sapieha, in the sixteenth century.

In the middle of huge tables stood a lamb of candies and marzipan, which were distributed "only to ladies, dignitaries, and church men." Around it, representing the seasons of the year, stood four wild boars, each stuffed with hams, sausages, and turkeys. The prince's chef showed wonderful skill in roasting those boars whole. Then came twelve deer, also roasted whole, and stuffed with a variety of game: hares, woodc.o.c.ks, partridges, hazel-hens, etc.; these were for the twelve months of the year.

Around the table, numbering the weeks of the year, were fifty-two mazourkas, that is, large square cakes stuffed with all kinds of fruit, and three hundred and sixty-five babas, for the days of the year; each was one ell high and on their iced surfaces were various inscriptions, mottoes, proverbs, and witty verses, which the invited guests took pleasure in deciphering.

In the way of beverages there were: first, four antique silver tankards with wine from "King Batory's time" (that is, one hundred years old); then twelve silver pitchers of old Tokai; then fifty-two silver barrels of Spanish, Italian, and Cypress wines, and three hundred and sixty-five bottles of Hungarian wine. For the household there were 8,760 quarts, as many as there are hours in one year, of home-made mead. The invited guests feasted during one whole week. As soon as the morning service was over they surrounded the tables, and the entertainment lasted till midnight; the prince's court band played lively airs, and the young people were never tired of dancing, nor the elderly ones of talking of "the good old times," sipping the Hungarian Malmsey, and drinking to the health of the prince.

He seemed to have grown thin; it is perhaps because of the long fast. We also have not had any meat for forty days, and neither b.u.t.ter nor milk during the holy week; everything was cooked with oil, and on Friday we fasted the whole day. I did not mind it at all, but for a man it must be different. Yesterday I was looking anxiously at him: I thought he would not notice it, as he was talking with the Prince Woivode, but he thanked me afterwards for my solicitude. I felt quite ashamed; how careful a young girl ought to be, not only of her words, but even of her eyes!

_Wednesday_, April 15.

We leave Warsaw to-morrow. The Prince Woivode and his wife are going to their estate "Opole," and they take me with them. My honored Father wrote a letter to the princess saying that she may keep me as long as she is not tired of me. I hope that will never be; I endeavor to please her as well as I can, and I feel the greatest awe of her. If I ever live to be old I wish to have her dignity of demeanor; even the duke is afraid of her.

I am glad that I am not yet going to Maleszow. I have it in my head that I ought not to return there just as I was, and if I arrived now there would be no change. No change? Oh! yes, there is a great change, but not the one I mean. Yet, things cannot stay long as they are now, something must take place. Will it be yes, or no? I shall not be surprised if it is yes, and in the other case--well, I will not bend my head, even if my heart break. It sounds like riddles, but if when I think of him I am afraid that some one may guess my thoughts, how could I write more plainly? As it is I have already said too much; it is better to stop and put my book under lock and key.

OPOLE, _Wednesday_, April 24.

We have been here for nearly a week; the place is pretty, but I do not feel very cheerful, and nothing seems to go right. The trees ought to become green, but they are as black as in mid-winter; it ought to grow warm, and it is still cold. I wanted to begin some embroidery, but I have not the necessary silks; I wished to play, but the harpsichord is most dreadfully out of tune, and they have to send to town for the organist. There is a large library, but the princess has the key of it, and I am afraid to ask her for it. The prince has bought some new French books, the works of Voltaire, the most celebrated author in France; he paid, before my eyes, six golden ducats for a few volumes, and not very large ones; but the princess does not allow me to read them. What is still worse, there arrived, just fresh from Paris, a novel which is all the rage, the "Nouvelle Helose," written by a certain M. Rousseau. I took the book eagerly in my hand, but the author says in the introduction, "No mother will allow her daughter to read this book," and the princess most sternly forbade it to me.

I had still another disappointment yesterday; the physicians in Warsaw ordered the princess to ride horseback for her health; she laughed at them, saying that she would never do it, but the Prince Woivode believed their advice good, and he bought a beautiful mare, quite gentle, which was brought here. The princess very reluctantly consented to ride a little in the garden, but I, who am not afraid of horses, was just dying to learn how to ride, and I said so yesterday. I got a terrible scolding; the princess said that such an exercise would be quite indecent for a young lady, and I had to give up all my plans,--such beautiful plans, of riding and hunting with--well, with some one.

There are many people coming here to pay their respects to the prince, who is the Woivode of this province, but they are not very interesting. The one person whom I like to see is the Prince Martin Lubomirski, the first cousin of the Woivode, but much younger, and whom I have already met in Warsaw. He owns the earldom of Janow, which is not far from here, and he has invited us very eagerly to pay him a visit; I hope we shall go.

The princess always finds something to censure in him, but I like him very much; he talks most agreeably, and is a great friend of the Duke of Courland.

JANOW, _Friday_, May 1.

We have been here two days, and the Prince Martin announced from the very first that he would not let us go away soon. I do not think there can be found anywhere a host more generous, gay, and hospitable than the Prince Martin. The princess says that he sows his money broadcast as though he expected it to grow. He has now a new scheme on foot: they are cutting a road through a beautiful forest near the castle,--from my window I can see the magnificent trees fall under the axes of at least a hundred workmen,--and at the end of the road they are building a small palace, but in such haste that it seems to grow under one's eyes. There is a wager between the Prince Martin and the Prince Woivode that the building will be ready in four weeks, and I am sure the younger prince will be the winner. The whole forest is to be enclosed with a hedge and serve as a preserve. Men have been sent to distant places to bring deer and bears, besides the game which is found around here. There is some mystery about all that hasty work; I wonder what it is!

This place is beautiful indeed. The old and majestic castle stands upon a hill above the Vistula, and commands a most admirable view over picturesque villages, forests, and the winding river. The halls and rooms are innumerable, the furniture rich and elegant, and the gallery of portraits is said to be the finest in the country. But my room seems to me the most charming of all; it is in a high tower, and it makes me feel like the heroine of a novel. From each of the three windows is a different view, each beautiful, but I sit most near the window looking towards the little palace, the progress of the work going on there interests me so very much. On the walls of my room is Olympus painted in fresco. "Venus lui manquait, mais il la possede maintenant," said Prince Martin, gallantly, when he brought me in.

_Sunday_, March 3.

I rose before the sun, and I must have looked like a ghost when I glided through the large halls, on my way to the gallery of portraits.

The Prince Martin, following the example of our ancestors, who kept with great care the pictures of their most ill.u.s.trious members, and the memory of their great deeds, determined to gather all such souvenirs of the Lubomirski family in one room.

He brought from Italy a skilful painter, also called in the help of a very learned man, who knew all about the Polish history, and after long researches and debates the plan was carried out in 1746; as the inscription above the door testifies. The princess says it is a pity that all these portraits and pictures are not painted in oil on canvas instead of "in fresco," as they never can be removed, and it is more difficult to take care of them. In any case the gallery, as it is now, is superb.

Yesterday after dinner our host brought us in and explained the meaning of the large paintings, relating the facts and the anecdotes about them. It was so interesting that I decided to get up very early this morning, before the house was awake, and come here alone to look again at the pictures, and write about some of them.

The first picture represents the three brothers Lubomirski, young and handsome men, who in the presence of the king, and many lords and witnesses, are dividing the inheritance of their father. Two scriveners are writing the deed upon a roll of parchment, and this doc.u.ment, dating from 1088, was the first historical t.i.tle-deed known in Poland; it is still in existence, and the family are very proud of it.

After that picture, comes a row of portraits of stately men and great warriors, which I must pa.s.s over. Then I see a painting representing a chapel, where, before a miraculous image of the Virgin, a baby is being weighed, and the other scale is covered with gold pieces. One Prince Lubomirski, being childless, made a vow that if a son were born to him he would offer to the Church its weight in gold, and he kept his promise.