DIARY OF FRANCES KRASINSKA;

OR, LIFE IN POLAND DURING THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.

Friday, January 3d.

My patience, or rather my impatience, has not been exposed to any very severe trial: I have seen the prince royal twice. He recognized me; how childish I was to doubt it? Why should I think him less skilful than myself; and under what dress could I mistake him?

On New Year's day, just as I was writing in my journal, the palatine came into my room, and said: 'Fanny, you have surpassed my expectations; you have been perfect in everything; your dress, and still more your manners, at the ball, have charmed every one; you have pleased universally, and even persons of the highest rank. I have just returned from court, where, with the senators and ministers, we presented our homage to his royal majesty: his royal highness the Duke of Courland took me aside to tell me that he had never seen anything comparable to you. 'Were it not for the court etiquette,' added he, 'which forces me to pass the first day of the year with the king my father, I should go in person to present my congratulations to Mademoiselle Frances Krasinska.'

When I heard these words spoken by the prince palatine, I thought my heart would burst within my bosom. The prince was kind enough to seem as if he had not noticed my confusion, and left me alone with my joy, my delirium, my wild fancies.... I was not then mistaken: the prince royal will come to see me. Yes; the prince palatine told me so; he has never seen anything comparable to me. This phrase haunts my memory like a delicious strain of melody.

Dinner was soon after announced. I was gay—out of myself; the princess scolded me. After dinner we went out to make visits, and found no one at home: everybody was out, offering the congratulations proper to the season. Friends and acquaintances met in the street, and all said to one another: 'I was just going,' or 'I have just been to see you.' The carriages crossed and jostled one another in the streets, and a halt was ordered whenever it was possible to recognize friends amid the crowd, when cards were reciprocally exchanged.

When the night came, the footmen lighted the carriage lamps, and boys ran before with torches; all these lights, vehicles, and liveries made up a charming spectacle—so gay and animated! There were a few accidents, but, God be praised, nothing happened to us. It was late when we returned, and I was very tired: I soon fell asleep, but my sleep was no rest. I dreamed, I pondered, and I saw the future.... How many things, how much weakness, and how much strength may exist in a woman's teeming brain!

The next day, precisely at twelve o'clock, after having made my toilet for the day, I went to the reception room, where the princess was already seated; I had just commenced to work at my embroidery, when a chamberlain entered hastily, and cried aloud: 'His royal highness the Duke of Courland.' The princess rose precipitately to receive him in the antechamber. At first I thought I would retire; but curiosity, or some feeling, I know not what, overcame my fear, and I remained. He entered, approached my workstand, and asked after my health. Notwithstanding my embarrassment, I replied with considerable self-possession. He took a seat near my frame, and seemed interested in my work. I had so strong a desire to appear calm that I succeeded in threading a fine needle with my heavy silk; but God knows how I trembled....

The prince royal praised my skill, and found opportunities of saying many kind and flattering things to me, although he spoke much more to the princess than to myself; he remained about half an hour. I now know that my dress did not change me in his eyes. As he left he told me he hoped to see me this evening at the ball given by the French ambassador, Marquis d'Argenson.

Ah! Barbara's wedding was nothing compared to the fêtes in Warsaw: there was as much luxury and magnificence, but the exquisite grace and chivalric courtesy here universal were wanting.

The country may try as it will, it is always a mere parody on the city: in the city, all are nearly alike; all are equally polished, and equally amiable; no one is permitted to speak tiresome truths; the compliments are all ready made, and people only differ in their mode of speaking them. From this general rule I must except the prince royal; his language has another coloring, and his graceful speeches have an air of inspiration.

But he could not say much to me at the Marquis d'Argenson's ball. I was no longer a Virgin of the Sun, and etiquette is much more rigid at a dress ball than at a fancy ball; besides, all the women near us tried to hear what he was saying to me, which displeased me exceedingly; such curiosity is disgusting in persons of high rank.

The princess is in an excellent humor; the prince royal danced only with her last evening; that is, she is the only lady advanced in years who had that honor. The prince palatine is kinder than ever; he asks no questions and offers me no advice. I am awaiting my sister's arrival with the greatest impatience; how many things I will have to tell her!

It is not yet a week since I left school, and the time seems to me ages long: so many events and such divers impressions crowd a lifetime into a few days! New emotions have given birth to a new nature; my dreams as a young girl have been surpassed, or rather have become a serious reality.

Sunday, January 5th.

Would any one believe it? During the whole of yesterday I thought neither of balls, nor of fêtes, not even of the prince royal himself: my mind was exclusively filled with my sister. She came sooner than had been expected, and was taken ill immediately after her arrival. The princess was sent for, and hastened to Barbara to remain all day. I desired to accompany her, but was not permitted. Until midnight I was in a horrible state of uneasiness; I sent to three churches to have masses said. Finally, at one o'clock, the princess returned; she told me that Barbara was doing well, and had given birth to a daughter. This morning I begged the princess to permit me to visit my sister, but she replied that I could not do so, as it was not proper for a young girl to visit a lady in Barbara's situation. There was nothing to be said, and so I must wait.

The starost called here for a moment; he seemed very, very happy. They say the little one is charming, red and white, and so plump; she is to be called Angelica, to please our mother, who is so named. Oh! if I could only see the dear child! I have all the honor of being an aunt, without any of the pleasure.

The prince royal sent to congratulate the princess upon the birth of the little girl, and he was kind enough to inquire after me by the same messenger.

Wednesday, January 8th.

My sister improves daily, but she does not yet leave her bed. I have seen the prince royal but once this week; he had gone hunting with the king; but yesterday he amply indemnified us by making us a visit of at least an hour. How good he must be! how tenderly he loves his father! and when he spoke of his mother, his eyes were wet with tears. He seems excellently well disposed toward the Poles; I do not think, so far as I can judge, that a more noble and energetic soul could anywhere be found. All that I had heard of him, all that I had written in my journal, is the most exact truth. He is even far above all the praises bestowed upon him; no one could describe the tone of his voice, his smile, or the expression of his eye, so filled with deep and noble thought; I am not at all surprised at the empress's predilection for him. He has already succeeded in winning the attachment of his people in Courland; he is seen once, and he pleases; again, and he is loved.... I believe that were the king to die, he would be proclaimed king of Poland.

Ah, well! this prince, so much beloved, has distinguished me highly; I can no longer doubt that I am pleasing to him; certain words have confirmed the eloquence of his eyes.... Yes, indeed, I may be quite sure, since even the prince palatine himself has told me so.

I believe that the princess takes a malicious pleasure in spoiling all my happiness; she said to-day, at table, with quite an indifferent air, that the prince royal had already been much pleased with many women, and that, for him, the last was always the most beautiful.... How childish I am, to torment myself thus! Am I the only beauty in the world? The Starostine Wessel, Madame Potocka, and the Princess Sapieha are far more beautiful than I, and then they understand how to add grace to their beauty, while I am entirely devoid of the knowledge of any kind of art. Yet, the prince royal assures me, that is my greatest charm. Nevertheless, my color seems pale beside the brilliancy of those ladies; their cheeks are rose tinted, and always rose tinted, while my color varies according to my emotions. Madame Potocka was charming at the French ambassador's ball; the prince royal danced with her twice, and no one could avoid remarking her. But, in truth, what more can I desire? My whole ambition was to see him, and to be noticed by him during a few moments; my wishes have been gratified, and yet I long for more, still more.... The heart has, then, infinite faculties for ceaseless longing.

Sunday, January 12th.

Now I ought to be completely happy. Last Thursday, at the Prince Czartoryski's ball, the prince royal danced with me alone. He came the day before to make us a visit, and yesterday, he sent his aid-de-camp to invite us to a representation of the Italian opera Semiramide, which is to take place at the court.

During the whole time of the play, the prince paid attention to no one but myself. I was presented to the king, who gave me a most gracious reception; he asked me for my parents, and especially for my mother. The starost came to announce that the prince had concluded to stand godfather to his daughter, and that he had chosen me for godmother.... I will then hold the child at the baptismal font with the prince, and then I shall be of the same rank with himself. The will of God be done! The ceremony will take place with great solemnity in the cathedral church of St. John. Several other baptisms were to have taken place upon the same day, but they will be postponed through respect for the prince. The first society of Warsaw will be present at the ceremony; every one will speak of it, and certainly the Polish Courier will chronicle this important news. What will Madame Strumle and all the young ladies at the school say? What will my parents, and all our court at Maleszow say? What will our little Matthias say?

Oh! that Matthias! How often I think of him! He is responsible for all my torments, and all my uneasiness; without him, my reason would never have abandoned me, nor would such wild hopes have sprung up within my heart.

Scarcely one moment have I been able to rejoice over the approaching ceremony; the princess has just told me that marriage is forbidden between persons who have stood together as godfather and godmother at a baptism; I shuddered as I listened! Great God! what can all this mean? I no longer know myself. All within my soul is confusion and disorder: my own thoughts terrify me; I pass alternately from joy to sorrow; delicious hopes smile upon me, and then I am overwhelmed by a strange presentiment of coming sorrow. I am in a state of continual agitation: I tremble, and long to quit the world, and then again feel drawn toward it by bonds so sweet and so strong....

At least I shall soon once more see my sister. That meeting will afford me a really happy moment; true consolation is to be found in sweet and confiding affections. After the ceremony, we will go to my sister's; she is doing remarkably well; she sits up, but cannot yet leave her room.

Wednesday, January 15th.

The baptism took place yesterday, and I saw my sister. How charming she is! She has grown paler and somewhat thinner. She is, as she always was, good like an angel; and she is so happy! The prince royal quite insisted that my name should be given to the little one, but Barbara would not agree to that; she said that we owed the preference to our mother's name. He has, however, obtained a promise from her that her second daughter shall be named Frances.

The little one is lovely, but red as a crab; she cried during the whole time of the ceremony: they say that is a good sign, and that she will probably live to grow up. God grant it, for I love her already. I was so embarrassed, I had not the least idea how I ought to hold her in the church. My hands failed me; the prince royal aided me most kindly; how good he is!

I was as much surprised as pleased at finding myself standing before the altar at his side, in the presence of so numerous an assemblage, and at seeing my name inscribed on a great book with his: the prophecies of our little Matthias will doubtless receive no further fulfilment.

Every one congratulates me upon the honor I have had. The prince royal has redoubled his kindness to me since the ceremony; his manner is more familiar; and he calls me now, 'My pretty gossip:' when he speaks of the child, he says, 'our Angelica.' He has made the most magnificent presents to her ladyship the starostine and myself; his generosity toward the poor and my sister's servants was truly regal.

He has promised the starost his interest with the king, to obtain for him the castellanship of Radom. Alas for me! I can do nothing for my family; but I have embroidered a dress for Angelica which has cost both time and labor; the prince royal told me he thought it in the best taste. I will shortly embroider a cap for the dear little one.

But I am forgetting a piece of news of the greatest importance. Prince Jerome Radziwill, the standard bearer of Lithuania, is preparing a grand hunt to amuse the king and the prince royal. He is expending the most enormous sums to surpass everything of the kind hitherto seen. He has filled his park with all kinds of game, brought expressly from the forests of Lithuania. The hunt will begin to-morrow; the weather is favorable; it is freezing hard, and the sledges will slide over the snow most charmingly. The prince royal insists upon my being present at this fête. The four beauties of Warsaw will occupy the same sledge, driven by the prince royal himself. (I must here say that I am one of the four beauties now in fashion.) We will all wear the same costume, differing only in color. I have chosen crimson; Madame Potocka, blue; Madame Sapieha, green; and Miss Wessel, orange. Our velvet dresses will be trimmed with sable, and our caps will be made of the same material. I am sorry Barbara cannot see it all; but she has her Angelica, and that is a happiness worth all the rest.

Friday, January 17th.

I was brought up in a castle with a brilliant court, and I have seen the royal fêtes at Warsaw; but I never beheld anything comparable to the Prince Radziwill's hunt. We set out at nine in the morning, amid an innumerable quantity of sledges and horses; our equipage was the most splendid, and followed next after the king's. The prince wore a hunting dress of green velvet. I do not know whether it was his costume which rendered his appearance so striking, or his bearing which threw such a charm about his dress; of one thing, however, I am sure, and that is, that I never saw him look so well.

We first went a considerable distance beyond the church of the Holy Cross; then we flew down the side of the hill on which Warsaw is built. In the centre of the plain, near Szulec and Uiazdow (now Lazienki), Prince Radziwill has had a park made and an iron pavilion built. The situation is admirable; the building is open upon all sides, and defended against the wild beasts by bristling points of sharpened iron. All the furniture is covered with green velvet. The king and the prince royal took their places within the pavilion, while the guests occupied a lofty amphitheatre raised without; the little hills to the right and left were crowded with curious spectators. At some distance from the pavilion began long avenues, bordered with fine trees.

As soon as all had arrived, and had taken their destined places, the hunting horns were sounded. The prince's huntsmen let loose eight elks, three bears, twenty-five wolves, and twenty-three wild boars; dogs trained for the purpose drove the animals toward the king's pavilion. The shouts of the huntsmen and the howlings of the animals were deafening. The king killed three boars with his own hands; the prince royal killed at least twenty of the creatures, and, not yet content, he fought a bear with a club, a proof of great strength and skill. I am to have the bear's skin, the main trophy of the prince's hunt, as a carpet. These amusements lasted until four in the afternoon; we then had a collation. We counted eighty-four huntsmen and foresters belonging to Prince Radziwill; they were all richly dressed. Latin and Polish verses were distributed among the guests. Everything was charming. Prince Radziwill desired thus to commemorate the anniversary of the king's coronation. There will also be a grand ball this evening at Marshal Bielinski's, to celebrate the same event.

Sunday, January 19th.

The ball was superb. The prince royal was charmingly gay; the king had given him a star set with diamonds. The supper was splendid, exquisite; and the enforced abstinence of Friday by no means diminished the luxury and abundance; there were an infinity of dishes, but not a particle of meat.

I danced a great deal, and have pains in my feet which cause me much suffering; but I am sorry that I complained, for I shall now be obliged to keep my room for ten days to rest. The princess is quite uneasy about my health. She fears lest so many balls and such late hours should be injurious to me. In truth, I do not think my cheeks are as rosy as they were a few weeks ago.

We have received letters from Maleszow; my mother was kind enough to write to me herself. She begs me to take good care of myself, and, above all, to act prudently, and beware of heeding vain flatteries. She says: 'Do not become vain or proud through the praises bestowed upon you. Caprice has more influence upon the world's judgment than either beauty or merit. If reason is lulled to sleep through the power of such deceitful murmurs, the happiness of a whole life is in danger, and one may suddenly fall from a great height, with all one's weight, upon the earth.'

I hope my good mother's fears will never be realized, and, if my desires have been too lofty and ambitious, I will in future endeavor to chain them in the depths of my soul. My mother's letter caused me many tears; I carry it with me wherever I go, and read it often. God has endowed the words of parents with the power of going directly to their children's hearts. Happy the young girl who has never left her father's house! Notwithstanding all my triumphs, I often regret our castle at Maleszow.

Warsaw, Wednesday, January 29th.

My quarantine is finally ended, but I am sorry to say there have been four balls during my seclusion. I particularly regret a masked ball, where I was to have made one in a Scotch quadrille with the three celebrated beauties. Miss Malachowska took my place, and I was forced to remain alone, notwithstanding the entreaties of the prince royal and of many others; but when the princess once says no, there is no use in attempting to induce her to change her mind, I confess I was really vexed, but it would have been very ungracious to have let it be perceived; at my age, one should be reasonable; besides, I ought not to regret anything, for the prince royal has often been to see me, and has told me that he approved my resignation and the strength of my character.

Since the baptism, the distance separating the prince royal, heir apparent to the throne, from the Starostine Frances Krasinska, has been gradually decreasing; the prince royal desires me to treat him as my equal: what precious and inconceivable goodness! The hours he passes with us are the most delightful that can be imagined; he talks of his journeys to St. Petersburg, to Vienna, to Courland, and amid the society surrounding us, he even finds opportunities to say words to me which I alone can comprehend. The prince royal knows and appreciates all the intrigues which are mining our unfortunate republic, but, through respect for his father, he dare not say what he thinks. Great God! If he should one day be king!

The princess, who eagerly seeks a bad side to the best things, says that his politeness has no other aim than to make a party for himself, and when he is master of the crown, he will forget or despise us. I do not believe this, and repel such a suspicion as the deepest injustice. The princess would be very glad to see Lubomirski on the throne, but I doubt exceedingly the possibility of such an event.

The sisters canonesses have a soirée this evening, to which I am invited. The superior, Miss Komorowska, is a very respectable personage. Madame Zamoyska, born Zahorowska, was the foundress of this community: she copied it from that existing at Remiremont, in Lorraine. It serves as an asylum for young ladies who will not or who cannot marry; they live there in retirement, but still receive visits. Madame Zamoyska bought the Marieville, in one of the main streets, on purpose to establish this community of canonesses. Twelve ladies of the highest rank are received there, but eight young girls belonging to the lesser nobility are also admitted.

The last days of the carnival are finally at hand.

Ash Wednesday, February 16th.

After such constant and fatiguing excitement, one grows tired of pleasure and longs for rest. I am almost glad when I think the carnival is over. During the past three weeks I have led a purely external life, absorbed in balls, dress, and visits. One must have tried this mode of life to know how sad and tiresome it really is. My success, my happiness, are envied by others, while I long only for solitude, only for a few quiet moments, in which I may enjoy my own thoughts and reflections.

Barbara seems to comprehend my sufferings. I see her often, and certain words which occasionally fall from her lips explain her fears for me. She sees before me a destiny by no means in harmony with my tastes, requirements, and faculties; she would wish for me a future such as her heart and her reason have made for her; she understands life, and has set me to dreaming of another happiness.... I begin to reflect.... But how beautiful Madame Potocka looked at the masked ball yesterday evening! Her dress as a sultana became her astonishingly. Her beauty shone as a sun above that of all other women; every one admired her, and all coveted the honor of dancing with her. As for me, I could only dance one Polonaise; I was attacked by so severe a pain in my foot that I could not leave my seat, and I was forced to decline the invitations of the prince royal and of several noblemen. Thank heaven, the carnival is over!

Saturday, February 29th.

I am going to Sulgostow when I least expected to make such a journey, and must first write a few hasty lines. The starost and my sister called yesterday to say farewell. The prince palatine came to my room this morning, and told me my brother and sister were very anxious I should accompany them home. 'It is very probable,' he added, 'that your father and mother will soon join you there.' I always yield implicit obedience to the will of the palatine, and made no resistance in this case: I will go. The princess approves highly of my resolution. I will go, since they desire it; and yet the prince royal is ignorant of my approaching departure, and there is no one whom I could ask to inform him of it: he will hear it as one of the ordinary items of every-day news.

If I dared I would ask the princess to say farewell for me, and present my regrets to him; but I should never have the courage to confide in her—and, besides, will my departure cause him any pain? Will a single thought, a single remembrance follow me, when there are so many beautiful women in Warsaw?... Madame Potocka will still be here.... But I am called, and must hasten my preparations.

Sunday, March 15th.

I returned to Warsaw two days ago. I do not know how it was, but I forgot my journal, and was forced to abstain from the consolation of writing during my absence.

I remained three weeks at Sulgostow. I tell it to my shame, but the time weighed upon my soul as a lengthened torture. I did not see my parents, as they are not expected there for four days yet, and the prince palatine came for me in such haste that we made the journey in one day; fresh horses awaited us at each stopping place, so that we did not lose a single moment.

The prince royal came to see us the day after our arrival. He is much changed; he seems sad or suffering. He gave me to understand that my departure had given him great pain, and he said with some bitterness, that one should have some consideration for a friend.... A friend! this heartfelt word fell from his lips. Oh! how remorseful I felt for having made this journey! And yet I made it against my own will.

The prince palatine maintains that all is for the best. I must confess I can see no reason for making me suffer, and for afflicting the prince royal; but I have made a promise to myself to obey the palatine blindly; I believe him to be destined to play a large part in all the events of my life. The princess received me most kindly upon my return.

I have embroidered a cushion for the cathedral, with I.H.S. upon it. I found all that was needful for my work at Sulgostow, and I was so diligent that I finished it before my departure. I worked fervently, for I was accomplishing a secret vow; God alone knows my intention, God alone can grant my prayers.

The anniversary of Barbara's marriage was celebrated with great pomp at Sulgostow. How many changes in the space of a year! Before Barbara's marriage, I was always gay and always happy; that is to say, always calm. I enjoyed my insignificant liberty; my life was like a cloudless sky; I experienced none of those moments of bliss which are yet a real suffering, nor of those hours of torment possessing so strange a charm.

Thursday, March 19th.

The prince royal was as gay and amiable yesterday as during the first days of our acquaintance. He came in the morning and passed an hour with us; he could not remain longer, as he was obliged to accompany his father on a hunting party to the forest of Kapinos: but he returned in the evening when we least expected him; he came quietly, without any escort, and with an absence of ceremony, and an air of mystery which added to the charm of his presence.

The chase was successful, and quite a singular event took place. The forest of Kapinos borders upon that of Zaborow; the proprietor of the last-mentioned domain is said to be a gentleman of good family; he gave the king a splendid reception when his majesty passed through his lands, and the king promised the gentleman a starosty, as a recompense for his fidelity, on condition that he would first permit him to kill a bear upon his territory. Several bears were killed, but the starosty seemed forgotten; the poor gentleman, always hoping and always disappointed, killed a bear himself at the last hunt. He dragged it to the king's feet, and said to him, 'Sire, ursus est, privilegium non est.'

The king laughed heartily at this sally, and promised him solemnly that he should have the promised starosty.

The prince royal remained two hours with us: he is now freer, and can leave his father more easily, because his brothers, Albert and Clement, are in Warsaw. Every one says that Prince Clement is very good and very pious; he has a decided vocation for the ecclesiastical state, and it is presumed he will take orders. It is a proof of great wisdom on the king's part to consecrate one of his sons to God; but it is fortunate the choice did not fall upon Prince Charles.

Tuesday, March, 24th.

Notwithstanding it is Lent, my days pass quite gayly. The prince royal comes often to see us; he repeats unceasingly that the court etiquette weighs upon him; he is glad to be free from it: but to-morrow I am again to be separated from him. The princess is in the habit of making a retreat of a week before Easter, in order to prepare for her confession; all religious ladies do the same, and I must of course accompany the princess to the convent of the Holy Sacrament.

During a whole week we will see none but priests, we will read only books of prayer, and work only for the church or for the poor.

Holy Thursday, April 2d.

I have made my confession, and am now prepared to receive the holy communion. I never remember to have been so calm, or to have felt so much quiet in my soul. It is an inestimable blessing to be at peace with God and with one's self. How solemn and how sweet are the ceremonies of our holy religion! What a happiness to have been brought up in the knowledge of its mysteries! I have an excellent confessor, the Abbé Baudoin; he is very popular among the ladies of the court, because he is a Frenchman. But, popularity aside, he would still be the confessor of my choice; he is a worthy and a holy man, possessing all the virtues taught by Christ; one follows his counsels with respect; his views of religion console and show one the way to heaven without forcing one entirely to quit the earth. I passed several hours with him, and he knew how to reach my heart, even while condemning my faults. He caused me to feel humiliated for my sins, without crushing me, or driving me to despair; he showed me the futility of all human things, the sadness and emptiness of all pleasures arising from vanity and self-love.... Indeed, during a few moments, I thought seriously of consecrating my life entirely to God, and of becoming a gray nun in the convent under the Abbé Baudoin's direction.

I was measuring my cell, and counting the number of steps I could take in my new asylum; I thought my resolution nearly taken, when my maid entered and began to tell me some trifle concerning the prince royal's huntsman!... The chain of my holy thoughts was immediately broken, and I strove in vain to relink it; I could remember but one point, and that was, that the Abbé Baudoin had told me it was possible to secure one's salvation even while living in the great world, and that this difficult struggle, when brought to a victorious conclusion, was as pleasing to God as that virtue which had never dared the combat.

Why, then, should I throw myself into a world of sacrifices, whose extent is unknown to me, and perhaps beyond my strength? I will follow my destiny, while maintaining the purity of my conscience. Yes, I swear never to commit any action unworthy of the name of Krasinski. If I sin, alas! it is through too much pride; my desires are placed very high; the Abbé Baudoin does not blame me; he says that ambition is criminal only when it leads us from the path of virtue.... What God requires, is a heart prepared for every sacrifice—a will ready to yield all for His sake; and I feel that I possess this disposition; I experience an indefinable quietude, and my soul is comforted. This week has seemed to me a foretaste of heaven; I have seen no one but the nuns and my confessor, the sole confidant of my thoughts and feelings, and the time has passed rapidly and without tedium. To-day I am once more to find myself in the great world. I am to witness the ceremonies of Holy Thursday in the castle. I am very curious to see this religious solemnity.