THE JOURNAL of COUNTESS FRANÇOISE KRASINSKA in the eighteenth century.

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 circumstances; 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 Françoise. I have heard more than once that I am pretty, and sometimes looking in the mirror, I think so myself. "One has to thank God, 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 noble, but very old and illustrious family of Korwin Krasinski. God 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 illustrious 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.

Having espoused a noble 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.

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.

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 dégagé, 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.

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 spacious 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 classes of courtiers,—the honorary and the salaried ones, all alike nobles, 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.

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 glasses, often replenishing for the guests, but only on feast days keeping the glass 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 noble 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 mass, 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 amusement. 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.

The king is said to be of a kindly but rather weak character, and he has the greatest confidence in his minister Brühl, 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 "investiture," 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 investiture 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 Journée du Chrétien,"—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.

The Woivode and Father Albert are still here, and to-day the two sons of the former are expected. I am very anxious to know them, as they have both been educated in France, at Luneville, at the court of Stanislaus Leszczynski. [7] This nobleman, although his country has proved faithless to him, tries to be useful to it, and he has always some young Poles at his court, where they receive the best education. The sons of our first families court this great honor, and there is not a better recommendation for a young man than to say of him: "He has been brought up in the court of Luneville." He is sure then to be refined, to speak French well, and to dance the minuet gracefully; therefore all gentlemen brought up at that court are great favorites of the ladies. Oh! how curious I am to see these two!

Saturday, January 6.

They arrived yesterday, but I cannot say they are quite as I expected, especially the elder, the Staroste of Radom. I thought I should see a fine young cavalier, like the Prince Cheri, so beautifully depicted by Madame de Beaumont, but the Staroste is not at all like him; first, he is not very young,—he is about thirty; then he is rather stout, and therefore, perhaps, he is not fond of dancing. As to his Parisian accent, I cannot judge about that, as he did not say one French word, but mixes his Polish and Latin quite as the old gentlemen do. His brother, who is a colonel in the king's army, pleased me a little more; he has, at least, a fine uniform. To-day, the ceremony of liberation of the Chamberlain Chronowski will take place. Besides that, as it is customary on Epiphany, they are baking an enormous cake with an almond in it, and whoever gets the almond will be the Twelfth Night king or queen. Oh! if it only came to me! A crown would be put on my head and I should have all the ordering of the dances; then what dancing there would be! Still, I think, there will be enough in any case, for many guests are expected. Our old butler, Peter, was muttering to himself this morning that around the church in Piotrowice there are said to be ever so many coaches and curricles. Poor man! he is expecting more work, so he grumbles; but I feel my heart jumping, and my feet are dancing already. How often in this world the same thing brings trouble to one and joy to another!

Sunday, January 7.

Well, yes, they did come, and many of them are still here. Old Peter has two wrinkles more on his forehead, but we amused ourselves royally. Basia, not I, was the queen, but it was just as well. When at the end of the dinner the cake was cut, Basia glancing at her piece became red as a pink, and Madame, sitting next to her, announced: "Mademoiselle Basia has the almond!" Then all the people cried, "Long live the queen!" and Matenko added, smiling: "The almond is here, the husband is near." Would it not be nice to have a wedding in our house!

Decidedly I do not like the Staroste; he is so grave! Yesterday he danced the Polonaise only. He never looks at us girls, nor speaks a word to one of us; he converses with my honored Parents only, or plays cards, or reads the "Gazette;" so, really, I cannot find him very entertaining.

But I am forgetting to speak about Michael Chronowski's liberation. Soon after dinner we went to the banquet hall with our guests, and all sat around in a large circle, my honored Father in the middle, on a higher chair. The folding doors were thrown open, and the marshal with other courtiers led in the young man, dressed no more in livery, but in a rich Polish costume. He knelt down before the Count, who gave him a light blow on the cheek in token that he has been novitiate boy here, then a sword was fastened to his side and his health was drunk in a cup of wine. The Count made him a present of a purse filled with gold, and of two horses which were already waiting in the courtyard for their new master. Invited to remain here as a guest till the end of the carnival, Chronowski accepted the invitation with gratitude, and having saluted my honored Parents and kissed the hands of all the ladies, was admitted to our society and danced with us the whole evening.

January 8.

The prophecy of Matenko proved true, for Basia will be married before the carnival is over. Last night the Staroste Swidinski asked my honored Parents for her hand; they sent for her this morning, told her about it, and the betrothal will take place to-morrow. Basia came back in tears to our room, telling us that she dreaded the marriage, and would always regret her old home, but that it was not possible to refuse such a match, as both our honored Parents wished it, and told her she would be very happy. The Staroste is, they say, a most honorable man, religious, and of a kind disposition; his family is also old and very wealthy. His father has allotted him a large estate, "Sulgostow," with a beautiful palace, and the king has given him the appointment of staroste with the expectation of being soon named castellan. For a long time the Woivode and Father Albert had been planning this marriage, and they came here for the purpose of effecting it.

And so we shall have a wedding here, in Maleszow Castle, on the 25th of February, at the very end of the carnival. Will there not be dancing! Basia will become Madame Starostine; only, it is a pity we shall not be allowed to call her "Basia" any more. I am very sorry to have written about the Staroste as I did, but then it is not I that is to marry him, and if he pleases Basia, that is enough. She says she has always been afraid of young men, she likes serious ones better; and our honored Mother tells her that those make the best husbands. Perhaps so, but as for me ... well, it is of no use to think about it at present.

Oh! but I must not forget: the investiture of Duke Charles will certainly take place in Warsaw to-day. Colonel Swidinski, who knows him personally, has not words enough to tell how charming he is. I wonder if I shall ever see him.

January 10.

The betrothal took place yesterday. In the morning, when we came down, my honored Mother gave Basia a skein of tangled silk to wind. [8] The poor girl, with flushing cheeks, began the task, not daring to look up from her work, for she knew that all eyes, especially those of the Staroste, were fixed upon her; and besides, that mischievous Matenko was teasing her without end, making all the people laugh.

After dinner, when she sat again before her winding-frame, the Staroste came near and asked in a voice loud enough for all to hear: "May I believe that your ladyship's will is favorable to my desires?" "The will of my honored Parents," answered Basia, with a trembling voice, "has ever been a sacred law to me." And that was the whole of the conversation between the betrothed.

When the courtiers had left the room and we were alone with our guests, the Woivode and Father Albert arose, the former taking by the hand the Staroste, and standing before my honored Parents he thus addressed them: "For a long time my heart has been filled with the most sincere affection and profound veneration for the illustrious family of Korwin Krasinski; for a long time I have desired fervently that my modest name be united with your glorious one, and I cannot express the great satisfaction which I feel in knowing that your Grace is willing to grant me this favor. You have a most honorable daughter, Barbara; I have this son, Michael, who is my comfort and my pride; are you willing to renew to-day your promise to join this young pair for their lifetime? Here is the ring which I received on a like occasion from my honored Parents, in order to give it to my wife, who is, alas! no more in this world, but who still lives in my heart. Will you allow my son to offer it now to your daughter as a pledge of a closer tie?" Saying this he laid a costly diamond ring on a little silver tray which Father Albert was holding. The latter also made a speech, but he used so many Latin words that I could not make anything of it.

My honored Father rose and answered: "I repeat now what I told you yesterday, that I consent to the marriage of my daughter with the most honorable Staroste; I give her to him with my sincere blessing, and I transfer to him all my rights as a Father." "I do the same, and with my whole heart," added my honored Mother. "Here is a ring, the most precious jewel in my house; my Father, the Woivode of Podole, received it after his victory over the Turks, from the hands of our late king, Augustus II. This was my betrothal ring, and I give it now to my eldest daughter, with a Mother's blessing, and with a prayer to the Almighty that she may be as happy as I have been." She then placed on the tray a ring with a very large diamond, which, being raised, disclosed the miniature of the late king.

"Basia! come here, my girl," said my honored Father. She rose and advanced, but was so confused and trembling that I wonder how she ever reached the spot. Father Albert blessed the rings, and gave the first one to the Staroste, who, having kissed my sister's hand, placed the ring on her fourth finger; Basia, in her turn, gave him the ring with the portrait, and had her hand kissed once more. Then the Staroste fell at the feet of my honored Parents, thanking them, and calling God to witness that he would do all in his power to make their daughter happy; in the mean time the Woivode kissed the trembling Basia on the brow, while Father Albert and the colonel paid her many fine compliments.

At the end my honored Father took a large cup, filled it with old Hungarian wine, and drank the young couple's health; and all the gentlemen did the same.

The whole ceremony was so solemn and so touching that I could not keep back my tears. "Do not weep, Frances," said Matenko, who still remained in the room and for once was serious, "do not weep; in less than one year it will be your ladyship's turn." In one year? ... no, that would be too soon, but in a few years, perhaps....

Everybody in the house is now paying so much attention to Basia! My honored Parents kissed her on the cheek when she wished them good-night, and all the people are congratulating her and recommending themselves to her, as many wish that she would take them to her new court.

My honored Father brought out a bag containing a thousand ducats, which he gave my honored Mother for the trousseau, and during several hours they discussed together its details. To-morrow Mlle. Zawistoska, a very respectable woman, who has been brought up in our castle and will be Basia's lady's maid, is going with the commissary to Warsaw to make the necessary purchases.

In our store-house there are four big trunks with silver plate, one for each of us. The Count ordered the one which is designed for Basia to be opened; examined each piece himself, and those which need repairs or alteration are to be sent to Warsaw.

The letters to announce the approaching marriage are already being written, and the chamberlains will take them to all parts of Poland, to all relatives and friends, inviting them to the wedding. But the most stately of our courtiers, the equerry, will go to Warsaw with letters to the king, the royal princes, the primate, and the chief senators. In these missives the Count gives notice of his daughter's intended marriage, but sends no invitations, as the presence of those persons will depend upon their own pleasure. Oh! if one of them, for instance the Duke of Courland, should come here, what grandeur would be added to the wedding; but more probably they will send their envoys only, who, in that case, receive all the honors due to those they represent.

The Staroste gave handsome tokens of remembrance to each of us sisters. I received a costly brooch with turquoises; Mary, a ruby cross; Kasia, a Venetian chain. Also he offered presents to my honored Parents, which they deigned to accept,—the Count, a golden cup; the Countess, a work-box, in which all the implements are of mother-of-pearl and gold. He did not forget even our Madame, who found this morning a lace shawl on her bed; so she also highly praises our Polish generosity.

Last night we had a grand supper. The music was beautiful, the dragoons fired salutes, and the captain gave to the guard for a watchword the names Michael and Barbara.

This morning there was given a great hunting-party, for Basia's good luck, and it was unusually successful; they brought home one boar, two deer, four hinds, and many hares. The boar was killed by the Staroste himself, who laid his trophy at Basia's feet. I have learned to-day what a brave man the Staroste is. My honored Father ordered for the hunters all the horses from the stables, and among others there was one, a great beauty, but very wild; even the equerry does not dare to ride him. The Staroste said, however, that he would try him, and notwithstanding all the remonstrances, he sat upon him with ease and held him with such a clever and strong hand that, in spite of all the animal's prancing and jumping, he rode three times around the castle. It was beautiful to see. Basia turned pale at first, but when she saw how he was able to manage the horse, and when loud bravos began to resound, then deep blushes covered her cheeks, especially when all eyes turned towards her. By this act the Staroste quite gained my favor; one who is so brave and so strong, can be pardoned even if he does not like to dance the minuet. The Count presented the horse to his future son-in-law, adding a rich equipment and a groom; he deserved it.

To-morrow the Woivode and the Staroste are going away, in order to prepare the Sulgostow house for its new mistress.

Sunday, January 20.

During more than a week I have not opened my diary, for we are very busy. The afternoons and evenings are spent with our guests, and the mornings are given to work, as each sister wishes to make something with her own hands for Basia's trousseau. I am embroidering a dishabille with flowers in lace-stitch, and I have to get up very early in the morning and work even by candle-light in order to be ready in season. Mary is making a very pretty scarf; it will have an arabesque embroidered on fine muslin in dark silks and gold; Kasia is knitting a cover for the dressing table; so all the lessons are put aside, and even Madame de Beaumont is forgotten.

From the early morning, my honored Mother is busy, unlocking the trunks, the drawers, and the cupboards,—taking out linen, silks, furs, carpets, rugs, curtains, etc. She has many things still remaining from her own trousseau, and many others bought later, as during all these years she has been gathering all kinds of beautiful things for our marriage outfits; really they are well worth seeing. Sometimes she deigns to call me to assist her, and it is quite touching to see her anxiety to do right by each of us; she divides all these treasures in four portions, and sometimes she even asks my honored Father and the chaplain to give their opinion whether the shares are quite of equal value.

A tailor and a furrier have come from Warsaw, and there is so much to be done that they will not have finished for a month. Fortunately, almost all the linen is ready, our sewing-girls having worked upon it for these last two years, and now they are marking it with blue cotton.

Basia wonders what she will do with all the new dresses they are making for her; until now we had never more than four at the same time, two dark woollen ones for every day, and two white ones, one in cotton for Sundays, another in batiste for great occasions. But my honored Mother says that what is good enough for a young girl would not be proper for a married lady.

Basia has wound the tangled silk with such patience that, although green, it has not in the least changed its color; even Matenko acknowledges that she is fit to be married. She is now knitting from that silk a purse for the Staroste by my honored Mother's direction.

The equerry and the chamberlain are gone with the invitations. On the 8th of January the investiture of the royal prince took place at last. The night before, my uncle the Prince Lubomirski, Woivode of Lublin, who is also the marshal to the royal prince, gave a great ball; other festivals, dinners, and balls followed for more than a week. The new duke made a speech in the Polish language, which pleased immensely; he is now treated quite as a crowned prince. In the "Courier" there is a full account of the ceremonies. It is very interesting; I should like to copy it here, but I have not the time.

January 25.

The Staroste arrived last night, and this morning Basia found on her work-table two large silver baskets with oranges and bonbons, which she distributed among us and our court ladies. Our work is progressing rapidly and my négligé is half done.

Basia will be provided with feather-beds from her own household, for to each of us daughters has been allotted for many years a certain number of geese and swans. There is among the servants a poor, stupid girl who is not able to do anything but pluck the feathers, and each of us has a separate barrel for feathers and a bag for down. Basia, out of her share, will have two feather-beds, eight big pillows filled with goose-down, and four small ones of swan's-down. The pillows will be made of red silk, and the cases of Holland linen lawn embroidered.

February 2.

The Staroste stayed nearly a week and departed yesterday; the next time he will not go away alone, but Basia will go with him. It seems to me quite impossible that she will leave us and go alone with a man! Basia's friendship and esteem for the Staroste grows every day, although he never speaks with her; all his conversation is with my honored Parents, and all his attentions are paid to them. They say it ought to be so in an honorable courtship, for is there a better way of gaining the heart of the daughter than by pleasing the Parents?

The wedding will be in three weeks; we shall have new dresses as well as the court ladies; all these will be Basia's gift.

Many of the invited guests have already replied that they are coming, but the king and the royal princes will send only their envoys. It is doubtful, also, if my aunt, the Princess Woivodine of Lublin will be able to come, but she is much pleased with Basia's choice, and she wrote a beautiful letter with her blessing,—which made my honored Father very happy.

I am hurrying with my embroidery, but I must rise early and work by candle-light, for my honored Mother is so gracious toward me that she often wants my help and service. Before this, only Basia, as the eldest, was so fortunate, but now, my honored Parents want me to have some practice in order to take her place when the Staroste takes her away. Twice already I have had the key of the medicine closet intrusted to me, and I really think since then I have grown more serious.

February 12.

The preparations for the wedding are going on, and our visitors begin to arrive. Almost all the guest-rooms are already occupied, and the farm-house, the parsonage, even the better peasant-cottages will be wanted for the later comers. The cooks and the confectioners are already preparing all kinds of delicacies and sweetmeats for the coming event.

To-day the beds have been sent to Sulgostow and two enormous chests with mattresses, pillows, carpets, curtains, etc. The bedsteads are of carved oak with blue covers, curtains, and canopies; on the four corners there will be bunches of blue and white ostrich-feathers. Almost every moment Basia has good reason for embracing the hands and the feet of our honored Parents, they are so generous toward her. The Count is writing with his own hand, in a large book, the contents of the trousseau, beginning with these words:—

"Inventory of the wedding outfit which I, Stanislaus Korwin Krasinski, Staroste of Nova Wies, etc., etc., and Angela, born Humiecka, my honored wife, are giving to our eldest and beloved daughter Barbara, promised in marriage to the honorable Michael Swidinski, Staroste of Radom; and imploring for this daughter of ours the favor of Heaven, we bestow upon her our parental blessing, in nomine Patri et Filii et Spiritu Sancto. Amen." I should like to copy here the whole inventory, but first, I have no time, and secondly, I expect to receive a trousseau like this sometime myself, and what is still better, such a blessing of my own.

February 20.

Three days more and then the wedding. The Staroste arrived yesterday; Basia shook like a leaf when the chamberlain brought him into the parlor. To-day we are expecting the Woivode, Father Albert, the colonel and the Woivodine Granowska, sister of the Staroste, with her husband. Basia is entering into a fine family,—all religious and worthy people. The trousseau is quite finished, and what has not already been sent to Sulgostow is packed in trunks, of which Mademoiselle Zavistoska has the keys. Besides this mademoiselle, Basia will take with her two young girls, her goddaughters, well trained in all kinds of needle-work, and as companion, one of the six damsels who have been brought up with us. When I am married I shall take still more; I have already solemnly promised three girls that they shall go with me; one of them is the daughter of our Peter. In his grateful joy, the old man bowed to my feet, and for the first time his forehead was free from wrinkles.

Sunday, February 22.

The wedding will be to-morrow. Our guests are numberless, and all the envoys are here. The king's envoy is the Secretary Borch; that of the Duke of Courland, his confidant the Castellanic [9] Kochanowski, a very handsome and polite cavalier; the proverb is right: "As the master, so the valet." I cannot possibly describe all the others; they arrived, as if by appointment, at the same hour yesterday, and their entrance was quite imposing. Before every one of them our dragoons presented arms, while the cannons were firing and the music playing. The greatest honors were shown to the king's envoy; the Count, having been informed of the hour of his arrival, was waiting with head uncovered on the drawbridge, and all our guests, courtiers, and servants stood in a double row up to the entrance door. As soon as the secretary stepped on the bridge they all shouted "Vivat!" and bowed low in salutation.

To-day, in the presence of the whole company, and before appointed witnesses, the marriage contract was written, but I do not know what it contains, as I have not understood a single word of it. I know only that the bride received many beautiful presents: from the Staroste three strings of oriental pearls; from the Woivode a rich diamond cross and an aigrette with diamond pendants; from the colonel an enamelled watch and chain; from Father Albert many relics; and from each relative a souvenir. Basia can hardly believe that all these riches belong to her; until now, her only jewel, besides her betrothal ring, was a small ring with the picture of the Holy Virgin on it, and I am sure Basia will not discard her old friend for all the costly jewels which she now receives.

The maid has just brought my négligé, washed and pressed; it looks very nice. There are twenty-five different kinds of lace-stitch in it; I am sure it will be becoming to Basia.

Shrove Tuesday, February 26.

All is over, and as Matenko says, "with a hundred horses one could not catch Mademoiselle Barbara any more;" she is Madame Starostine. I have much to tell.

Yesterday, very early in the morning, we rode to our parish church in Lisow, where the bride and the bridegroom went to confession and to communion. As it was cold the bride wore a white cloak of brocade silk, lined with white fox fur, and on her head a long lace veil.

When we returned breakfast was served, and soon afterwards the dressing of the bride commenced; twelve noble ladies headed by my honored Mother undertook that important task. The dress was of white satin, with watered silk stripes, a frill of Brabant lace with silver ornaments at the bottom, and a long train; a rosemary bouquet fastened the front of the corsage. On her head the bride wore a rosemary wreath held in place by a gold circlet on which was engraved the date of the wedding and good wishes in rhyme. According to the old Polish custom, my honored Mother fastened in the wreath a ducat with the date of Basia's birth-year, and a bit of bread for good luck; she also added to the above a lump of sugar in order to sweeten the married life, which they say has many difficulties. No jewels were allowed, for it is said that for each precious stone worn on the wedding day, one has to pay afterwards with a vial of tears. As it is, Basia has wept enough, so that her eyes are red and swollen.

A little in advance, the bridesmaids went downstairs; we were twelve, all dressed in white, and the eldest of us was not more than eighteen. The bridegroom with twelve groomsmen met us at the door of the parlor, and there we found all the guests assembled. An enormous tray was carried behind us, heaped with bouquets of rosemary and orange sprays, each tied with a white ribbon, which were destined for the young ladies and bachelors present at the wedding. To fasten on these bouquets, each bridesmaid had a certain number of gold and silver pins, and great care was to be used in distributing the different values according to the rank of each person. The elderly ladies have been teaching us for a long time about the method we should follow in order not to cause offence by giving the priority to persons of lesser rank, and we were sure we understood the lesson perfectly; but as soon as we were in the hall, everything was forgotten. At first, we began our task very gravely, then we went on with a smile, and finally we broke into laughter; many and many mistakes were committed, but all were pardoned, and our gaiety was so contagious that soon the married people and even the elderly ladies and venerable gentleman,—none of whom have any right to wear flowers on a wedding day,—all wanted a bouquet. The first heap disappeared; they brought a second tray full, and a third one; we had no more gold or silver pins, and had to use the ordinary ones, but they were received just as well. At the end everybody looked happy; all had their bouquets, and the room was like a garden.

But no, I am mistaken, not everybody was happy,—Matenko stood sad in a corner; although a bachelor he had received no flowers, and he looked as if he did not belong to the wedding party. I stepped up to him, and he said in a low, grieved voice: "I do not wonder that the other young ladies have not thought of me,—but Miss Frances, whom I have known as a baby, whom, for so many years, I have played with and amused, that she should forget me! Well, I will not come to her wedding, even if she marries a king's son!" I knew that I blushed half pleased, but was still more vexed at my forgetfulness.

I ran to the dressing-room, but there was not one bouquet left, for my honored Mother, hearing how the flowers were being appropriated in the hall, took the remaining ones for the ladies who were dressing the bride and for herself. The greenhouses were too far off to send there, and I wanted, at any price, a bouquet for poor Matenko. Suddenly a happy thought came to my mind: I caught a piece of white ribbon and returning hastily to the parlor, took off my bouquet and gave half of it, with the golden pin, to Matenko. He was so pleased! "Franulka," he exclaimed, "you are as kind as you are handsome! I am sometimes a prophet; remember, young lady, what I have said to you.... I shall keep these flowers till your wedding day, and who knows with what title I shall address you when giving them back?" How strange! Notwithstanding all the distractions of the day, his words are still ringing in my ears; and here I am writing about myself, when I ought to think only about Basia.

To return to the wedding: the folding doors were thrown open and Basia entered timidly, surrounded by the elderly ladies. The bridegroom approached and took her by the hand, and the two knelt down before my honored Parents, asking them for their blessing; then they went with the same request to us, to all the relatives, guests, and the whole household present, and there was not one person who did not bless them with his whole heart and with tears in his eyes.

The chapel door opened. Father Albert put on a lace surplice, and standing before the altar, called upon us to draw near. The Secretary Borch as the king's representative, and the Castellanic Kochanowski, led the bride; Mademoiselle Malachowska and I, as first bridesmaids, were directed to lead the bridegroom. All the other people went behind us, two by two, in such deep silence that one could hear the rustle of the silk dresses, even the tinkling of the diamond aigrettes in the ladies' coiffures.

The altar was glittering with lights; a carpet woven with golden threads covered the steps, and on the highest were two red velvet cushions with the coats of arms of the two families, embroidered in gold.

The young pair knelt down; the bridesmaids were placed on the right side of the altar; the groomsmen on the left; I held a small gold tray with the wedding rings on it, my honored Parents stood behind Basia, the Woivode behind the Staroste. The castle band in the choir played "Veni Creator," after which Father Albert recited an allocution, almost the whole in Latin, and then he began to read the words of the marriage vow. Basia, although in tears, repeated distinctly enough: "I, Barbara, take you, Michael, for my wedded husband," etc., but the Staroste pronounced the words much louder. After the rings were exchanged the married pair fell down at the feet of my honored Parents and the Woivode's, and were blessed again.

Then the marshal gave a sign; the band in the choir and the Italian singers fetched from Warsaw began a triumphal march, accompanied by the discharge of cannons outside, and when this was all over, and silence re-established, the Count pronounced a fine and very moving exhortation, at the end of which Basia fell again at his feet, sobbing; she tried to speak, but not a word could she utter.

After mutual embracings, salutations, and congratulations, Father Albert sprinkled us with holy water, and presented a cross with relics to be kissed. But he made a mistake, giving it first to Madame the Castellan Jordan before Madame Kochanowska, mother of the duke's envoy. Fortunately, my honored Mother noticed the error, and begged the latter lady to lead the bridegroom from the altar, and thus happily all unpleasantness was avoided. The bride was attended by the king's envoy, and again, two by two, we returned from the chapel. Soon afterwards the dinner was announced. The tables in the banquet-hall were arranged so as to form the letter B; in the centre stood the result of the fortnight's invention and labor of our French confectioner,—an ell [10]-high pyramid representing the temple of Hymen, where, amidst all kind of ornaments, allegorical figures, and inscriptions, were the coats of arms of the two families. There were also many other devices on the table, in silver baskets, vases, epergnes, porcelain figures, etc.; it was so crowded that our little dwarf could not have easily walked on the table this time. It would not be possible to enumerate all the courses of the dinner, and as for the wine which was drunk, I wonder if the butler himself could give an account. Besides other wines, they drank at that dinner a barrel of wine which was called "Miss Barbara's wine," which the Count, according to the Polish custom, brought from Hungary in the year of Basia's birth, and which had been kept for her wedding day. Each of us has such a barrel. Then they began the toasts: first for Poland, then for the young pair, then for the king, the Duke of Courland, the royal princes, the primate, the master of the house, the ladies, etc., each accompanied with loud shoutings, hurrahs, breaking of the glasses, with the music of the band and the firing of cannons; altogether there was such a tumult that I think there will not be a greater one on doomsday.

After dessert was served, and we thought it was time to leave the table, the Count gave a sign to the marshal, who brought in a black leather box with brass ornaments, which I had never seen before. My honored Father opened it and took out a golden cup embossed with precious stones and shaped like a raven; then rising, he announced with great solemnity that this cup was a souvenir from the time of the Corvins of Rome, and it had not been taken from its box since the day of his own wedding. The butler placed before him a bottle covered with mould, containing, as they said, wine a hundred years old. The Count poured out the whole into the cup, and lifting it cried: "Good luck to the young pair!" The hurrahs began anew, the music was louder than ever, the cannons fired, every man drank that toast in one draught, and after that we rose from the table.

The daylight was gone already. The lady-guests went to change their dresses, but the bride and the bridesmaids remained in the same toilets. About eight o'clock the dances began. The bride opened the ball with the king's envoy, and during the whole evening danced in the first set. At first there were grave polonaises, minuets, and contra-dances, but by and by, the gaiety increasing, we had the mazourkas and the cracoviaks. The Castellanic Kochanowski dances the cracoviak like an angel; and according to the custom, when he was in the first set he sang impromptu verses, very witty and apropos.

At midnight the music stopped and the "Cap" ceremony began. A stool was placed in the middle of the room, the bride sat down, and the bridesmaids began to undo her hair, singing in plaintive voices the old song: "Ah! we are losing you, Basia." Then my honored Mother removed the rosemary wreath and the Woivodine Malachowska put in its place a big lace cap. It seemed Basia was costumed for fun, and I should have laughed had not her eyes been overflowed with tears. The cap is very becoming to her, which they say is a sign that her husband will love her very much. I am sure he will; he could not help it, she is so good.

When this ceremony was over the bride was ordered to dance the "drabant" with the king's envoy, in honor of the reigning family, who introduced that dance in our country; after that, the music played again a very solemn polonaise, and the bride danced it with all the gentlemen present, one after another, beginning with the Woivode Swidinski, and ending with my honored Father, who, having once paced the ballroom with her, led her to the Staroste and gave her to him, not only for that dance, but for her whole lifetime.

This was the end of that night's entertainment for us girls; my honored Mother ordered us to go to bed, and the elder ladies took the bride to the apartment reserved for the young couple. Other married and elderly people followed them, and I was told there were still more speeches in giving away the bride, returning of thanks from the bridegroom, new toasts, and all, that lasted very late into the night.

I slept wonderfully after all the excitement, and my feet are so rested that I am quite ready for to-night's ball. I danced mostly with the duke's envoy, the Castellanic Kochanowski, who returned from Luneville one year ago, and since then has been with the duke. He speaks very highly of his master; judging from the confidant, the other must be really a wonder.

I have not seen Basia yet, or rather Madame Starostine, as my honored Parents order us to call her. It seems so strange not to have her in our room. I have inherited her bed, her work-table, and all the rights of the eldest daughter. They will call me now "Mademoiselle Staroste," not simply "Mademoiselle Françoise," or "Franulka," as they did until now. It is a very little compensation, but still....

We shall begin the dances very early to-night, as it is the last Tuesday before Lent, so we have to stop at midnight.

Ash Wednesday, February 27.

Ash Wednesday, what a pity! no more dancing till next Carnival. Our guests begin to depart: the king's envoy is gone, the young married couple are going the day after to-morrow, and we shall accompany them as far as their home, for the house-warming. The Staroste invited no guests but his relations, as big parties are not proper in Lent. I am very anxious to see the new home of my dearest sister; I cannot get accustomed to call her "Madame Starostine," but it would not be proper to speak to her otherwise, as even my honored Parents always call her so. She grew very grave from her wedding day; the cap she is wearing and the robes with long trains make her look several years older; she is sad and speaks very little; I am sure she grieves to leave her home, and to go away with a man whom she knows so little. It must be awful!

Saturday, March 9.

Last night we returned from Sulgostow. I had a lovely time, but it is a pity not to have Madame Starostine back with us. Last Friday, before we started, she went very early to our parish church in Lisow, where she hung the half of a golden heart as a token that the half of her own heart will remain here. When she came back home she went around the whole castle, as if wishing to say good-bye to each corner, then she took her farewell of all the people in the household, and had a kind word for everybody.

When we were finishing a hasty breakfast, we heard loud crackings of the whip, and a chamberlain entered announcing that everything was ready for the journey. The Staroste looked at his wife, and whispered that it was time to set out. She fell then, sobbing, at the feet of my honored Parents, thanking them for all their favors that she had received during the eighteen years of her life, asking their pardon for all the offences she might have committed, and telling them that she wished nothing more than to be henceforth as happy as she had been. For the first time in my life I saw the Count crying; oh! how they blessed her! it did one's heart good to hear it, and there was not a person in the room whose eyes were dry.

We went to the bridge, but the captain ordered it to be lifted, and refused to let the bride go away until the Staroste gave him a ring as a token that he would bring her back again. The carriages of the Staroste were splendid,—a closed carriage painted yellow, lined with red damask, with seats for two persons, a landau with four seats, a coach, and several curricles. The horses were beautiful, especially six white ones drawing the yellow carriage in which the young couple were seated by themselves; behind them came the carriages with the women, and we came last. Madame Staroste sobbed so loud that we could hear her. Many courtiers and peasants followed the carriage, crying and blessing her. She gave them all the money she had with her, and the Staroste threw silver pieces bountifully.

At each halting-place where we stopped everything was prepared for our arrival: the floors were covered with rugs, the tables laid, and the waiters dressed in livery. On the following evening we reached Sulgostow. The Woivode and Father Albert started on ahead of us, in order to receive the bride in her new home. At the frontier of the property the peasants stopped the carriage of the young pair and offered bread and salt; one of the oldest men made a speech, followed by loud shouts of "Long live!" and when we entered the gate a company of hussars, whom the Staroste keeps in his court, fired salutes. Before the entrance door, the Woivode stood, with the whole court, and all of them gave the heartiest welcome to their new mistress. When we entered, the Staroste brought his wife a big bundle of keys, placing thus the whole house under her direction. From the following morning Madame Starostine took the management, and it was really wonderful how everything seemed easy to her and went smoothly; but, as the eldest of us, she was accustomed for many years to assist my honored Mother in her household duties.

Sulgostow looks quite different from Maleszow. It is a palace, not a castle, but still it is very grand and gay; the retinue is numerous, the house well provided, and, what is best, all the people seem so very happy to have my sister there.

For the first time in my life I tasted coffee in Sulgostow. My honored Parents do not like this fashionable beverage, which was introduced recently to Poland; they say that it spoils the complexion, so it is never served in our house. But the people in Sulgostow like it exceedingly, and the Staroste begged permission for me to drink a small cup of it.

It was rather melancholy to come back, although the Castellanic Kochanowski, who accompanied us on horseback, tried his best to entertain me. The young man has been invited to Sulgostow, as a former comrade of the young Swidinski at Luneville, but he is much younger than they are. In society they call him a "charmer," and really he deserves the title; what then must be the duke, his master!

I have had no time yet to look about me in Maleszow, as we arrived late in the evening, and the first thing I did to-day was to begin to write, but I am sure it will seem very sad here for a time.

March 12.

I guessed right, it is desolate without my dearest sister; the castle seems void as if she had taken away all the life with her. My honored Parents also miss her very much, for she, as the eldest daughter, was more with them, and she was so clever! I try my best to take her place, but I know neither how to fill the Count's pipe as well as she did, nor to assort the colors for my honored Mother's embroidery. And then she was so thoughtful, never forgetting anything,—just the reverse of me. We talk of her constantly. To-day a chamberlain will be sent to Sulgostow with compliments and inquiries about my dear sister's health, and there was almost a fight among the young men, all of them wanted so much to go.

The Castellanic has departed, and for the last three days we have had no visitors but two begging friars from a neighboring convent.

I have laughed but once. My honored Mother had distributed all of Basia's dresses among our waiting-ladies and maids, and last Sunday, as by a tacit understanding, each of them appeared wearing a part of Basia's former attire: one had a skirt, another a cape or a waist, etc. Matenko looked around and sighed heavily. "What is the matter?" we asked. "I am grieved," he answered, "to see the property of the late Miss Barbara so scattered." We began to laugh, but were reproved by the Count, who quoted the old proverb: "Quiet at table as in church."

Something quite new and unexpected happened to me yesterday. When we came down at noon, I saw the Castellanic Kochanowski, who was standing with the Count in a window's embrasure, talking so eagerly that he did not see us entering. I could not hear their conversation, but my ear caught the last words, spoken with some emphasis by my honored Parent: "Yes, sir, you will soon hear about the final resolution." Having said this he whispered a word to my honored Mother, who made a sign to the marshal and gave him a secret order. The dinner was served, the Castellanic sat opposite to me, and then I observed how elegantly he was dressed,—a velvet coat all embroidered, a white satin waistcoat, lace frills at his shirt, lace ruffles, and a coiffure as fresh as from a bandbox. He never was so lively and brilliant, and he mixed such beautiful French with his Polish, and looked really charming. The dinner was longer than usual; we waited a while for the roast, and when they brought it in, I saw my Castellanic changing his color and growing pale. I looked at the dishes; I saw a goose with black gravy, [11] and then I guessed all.

I did not dare to lift my eyes; queer thoughts were whirling in my head. I remembered the lively cracoviaks and graceful minuets, the elegant seat on horseback, the fine French conversation, the beautiful compliments, and I felt a pang in my heart. I had not the courage to touch the dish; my honored Parents refused it also, and but for the end of the table the dishes would have been untouched. Matenko was the first to help himself, and looking at his plate said aloud: "Well, it is rather a hard morsel, but still, it will be digested." I thought that was disagreeable of him.

It seemed to me that we stayed ages at table. Finally the Count gave the sign to rise, and as we were saying our "benedicite" I saw the Castellanic stealing away, and he did not appear again.

When the courtiers had withdrawn, my honored Parents called me from my work, and the Count spoke thus: "Mademoiselle, to-day the Castellanic Kochanowski asked for your hand. Although his lineage is noble and ancient, and his fortune considerable, nevertheless we did not think it was a suitable match. First, the Castellanic is very young; he has no position of his own, and is called only by the title of his deceased father; secondly, he did not set about the matter in the proper way. He asked no notable person to speak for him,—he came by himself, made his declaration at once, and wanted an immediate reply, which he received unreservedly. We do not doubt, Frances, that you are of the same opinion." Having said this, without waiting for my answer, he bade me return to my work.

Well, thinking it over, certainly I am of the same opinion as my honored Parents, as well by duty as by my own conviction; but to be quite sincere, I do not find fault with the Castellanic because he is young and spoke for himself, but because he is nothing by himself. A "castellanic"? that is not enough for me, and I do not think a castellan would be too much. In any case, I have not the slightest desire to be married yet, I am happy as I am; for several days after our return from Sulgostow I felt rather sad, but now I feel merry again and life is before me. Marriage puts an end to all expectations; a married woman knows who she is and who she shall be until her death, and I like so much to dream! When I sit at my embroidery frame, or at my netting, my thoughts are always travelling far and fast; all the things I have ever read come back to my mind; I share the fate of all the heroines of Madame de Beaumont, Madame de La Fayette, and Mademoiselle de Scudéry; and it seems to me that I am destined to adventures similar to theirs. Basia often scolded me for these fancies, but her habits of thought were quite different from mine. She often told me that she never brooded over her future, and never thought of the husband to come, except at her prayers,—for it must be said that with the beginning of the sixteenth year, by the direction of our honored Mother, we have to add to our every-day prayer the request for a "good husband." Basia thought it was a very right thing to ask God that the one who is to take the place of our Father and Mother, and with whom we have to live till our death, should be good, but it never occurred to her to wonder what he would be, and where and when she should meet him. She always said: "There will be time enough to think of him when he comes." And she was right; she got such a good and sensible man. She wrote to my honored Parents that, but for being homesick for Maleszow, she would be the happiest woman in this world. One can see that she loves the Staroste more and more, and that she is quite satisfied with her lot. Who knows? perhaps I should also be happy in such a position. In any case, my honored Parents were right in refusing the Castellanic; I am very sorry that the poor fellow has been disappointed, but I hope that, as Matenko says, he will digest the hard morsel.

Sunday, March 17.

Yesterday, when we were just going to supper, there arrived quite unexpected but very agreeable guests: my aunt the Princess Woivodine of Lublin and her husband. They could not come to the wedding, for the Woivode, being the Duke of Courland's marshal, was obliged to remain in Warsaw; but as the duke is now away, they came here to offer their congratulations. The arrival of such eminent guests gave new life to our castle. The Count is overjoyed; he loves and worships his sister. They have not been here for five years; in the mean time I have grown from a child to a young lady, and they were very much astonished at the change. Really, they spoke so much about my comeliness that I felt quite shy and uncomfortable. The Prince Woivode said quite seriously that, if I appeared in Warsaw, I should eclipse Mademoiselle Wessel, Madame Potocka, and the Princess Sapieha,—the three belles of Warsaw. The princess said that I need only hold myself more erect, to be more dignified, and to have more worldly polish, and then I should be perfect. Never in my life have I heard such compliments, and I was never aware that I was so handsome. I observed how my honored Father's countenance brightened at hearing these praises, but as for my gracious Mother, she called me this morning to her room and admonished me severely not to give credit to all these fine words, which she said were only court civility.

I am sure they are making plans for me. I should like so much to know about it. I was so excited that I could not sleep well last night, dreaming most extraordinary things. It is true that I heard many curious and amusing things which the prince and his wife related. My honored Parents wanted me to leave the room with my sisters as usual at nine, but the Prince Woivode pleaded for me to stay till the end of the evening; thus I heard all about Warsaw, the court, the balls, and the festivals attending the investiture of the duke, and many praises of this prince, who I hope will one day be the King of Poland. I felt happy; he is my hero, and I am sure he will be a great man. Shall I ever meet him?

Tuesday, March 19.

The Prince Woivode and his wife departed half an hour ago. They wanted to set out yesterday, but the Count ordered the wheels to be taken from their carriages, and persuaded them that it was not safe to begin a journey on Monday, which is known as an unlucky day. During the whole time they were very gracious to me, and advised my honored Parents to send me to a boarding-school in Warsaw, in order to finish my education. For some time a French lady, Madame Strumle, has conducted a school for young ladies in Warsaw; before this they were educated in convents only. This school has a great reputation. The daughters of the first families are sent there to study and to be taught good manners, and the Prince Woivode thinks I should there acquire all the accomplishments which I lack. But my honored Parents prefer the Ladies of the Visitation, and certainly a convent is the most proper place. Well, I do not know how all this will end, but I feel uneasy and absent-minded; I do not understand what I am reading; my work is not so well done as before; I feel as if something extraordinary were going to happen.

Sunday, March 24.

We are going to Warsaw! We are going the day after to-morrow. I do not know yet where I shall be placed, but in any case I shall not come back soon, as my gracious Mother ordered all my clothes to be packed, and two of her dresses were made over for me. My honored Parents were unexpectedly called to Warsaw on business about an inheritance from our cousin Vincent Krasinski, who died childless and left a great fortune. They take me with them and I feel so very happy! As we have to stop at Sulgostow, I shall see my dearest sister. She has just returned from a very agreeable trip, having visited with the Staroste all his relations, friends, and neighbors; she was welcomed and admired everywhere. Now she will stay at home, and is very much pleased with that prospect. She is going to be a perfect house-keeper; the old Woivode Swidinski wrote about her with such enthusiasm and gratitude that both my honored Parents cried with pleasure over the letter. Such tears are a blessing!

Warsaw, Sunday, April 7.

I can hardly believe that I am in that celebrated school of Madame Strumle; I entered it yesterday. It was not very hard work to persuade my honored Father to abandon the prospect of a convent for me, as he relies much on the Princess Woivodine's judgment, and I must say I am glad of it, as, in the secret of my heart, I did not care much for the convent.

On our way to Warsaw we stopped at Sulgostow. Madame Starostine looks gay and happy, and how she welcomed us! She remembered everything my honored Parents liked; all their favorite dishes and delicacies were prepared; everything appeared to be there for their own pleasure; and she seemed so happy to serve them in her own house! I heard my honored Mother saying to the Staroste that the marriage made Basia better than ever. "No," he answered, "such she was from the beginning when I received her from your hands. God bless her!" One can see how dearly he loves her; and she respects him and obeys him as if he were her Father. She manages her house perfectly, and knows how to receive guests, and what to say to everybody; she is quite an accomplished woman. My honored Parents were not very willing to go away from Sulgostow, but I must confess I was very anxious to get to Warsaw, and I welcomed the letters which made us proceed on our journey. I was right to be anxious about my coming here, for here I shall become an accomplished woman. I want to be distinguished. Therefore I will not lose one moment, and henceforth I will not think of the future or dream of it, but will study hard and learn all that I can.

Yesterday my honored Mother took me to the Cathedral, where I went to confession and communion, and prayed that the knowledge that I shall get here may do me good and honor.

When I feel a little more at home here I will write about everything. Now I am bewildered. I was accustomed to see around me well-known faces and rooms, but here I know nobody; everything seems strange.

Friday, April 12.

I am getting acquainted with my new home. I like Madame Strumle very much. She is a very dignified lady, and very gracious to me. Certainly it is not as grand and lively here as in Maleszow, but still it is comfortable and even gay. Some things seem to me strange, but amusing and quite new. For instance, there are no valets, not one man-servant in the house; dinner is brought and served by women! We are about twenty young girls, all from the best families and all very young. My honored Parents, after having visited the school, were well satisfied that young girls could not be better cared for and instructed in a convent. Madame carries the key of the entrance door in her own pocket; nobody can come in or go out without her knowledge, and but for the few old teachers, one could forget how the face of a man looks. No male cousins, not even brothers, are allowed to pay their visits. Once the dancing teacher asked leave for the young Potockis, who are at the Jesuit college, to come here and practise the contra-dances with their sisters, but Madame Strumle would not hear of it. "Those gentlemen," she said, "are the brothers of two of my pupils, but not of the others, so I cannot allow them to come."

I have a teacher for the French language, another for German, others for dancing, drawing, artistic embroidery, and music. There is a beautiful harpsichord; not a spinet as in Maleszow,—it has five and a half octaves. Some of the young ladies can play polonaises, not only by ear but from a music-book. The teacher assures me that in less than six months I shall be able to do as well,—it is true that I had a little instruction in Maleszow. I am now only drawing some small patterns for embroideries, but before the end of my education, I must learn enough to be able to paint with colors a dead tree, on one branch of which is a wreath of flowers with the initials of my honored Parents, to whom I shall offer my work as a token of gratitude for the education I have received. The young Princess Sapieha, who has been here for one year, is just painting such a tree, and I feel quite jealous of her skill whenever I look at her work. What a fine effect mine will have when hung in our parlor hall!

The dancing-master, besides the minuets and contra-dances, is showing us how to walk and to courtesy; until now I knew only one way of courtesying, but I hear there are several varieties,—one before the king; another before the royal princes, still another for other dignitaries or their wives.

I asked to be taught first the courtesy for the duke: some day, perhaps, I shall salute my hero.

My gracious Mother came once to see me. They are having much trouble with the affairs of the inheritance.

The lessons and studies take all my time from morning till night, but I do not complain, for I want to learn much. I must say that on the first days I felt a little bewildered; the incessant scoldings and admonitions, the iron cross which was put on my back to hold me erect, the machine in which we have to stand for an hour, in order to make our feet straight,—all this was not quite to my taste.

After Basia's departure, I grew to be quite a young lady; the proposal of the Castellanic, the compliments and the whisperings of the Prince Woivode made my thoughts travel far away,—I began to think I was quite a personage; but here I am again treated like a child. Madame Strumle even ordered me to stop the prayer for obtaining a good husband, and to ask for good knowledge instead. Really, one cannot think of anything else here.

Sunday, April 28.

I have not opened my journal for two weeks, but the days are going on each so like the others that I have nothing to relate, and I am thinking now what I shall write down to-day. My honored Parents will leave soon. The Princess Woivodine deigned to pay me a visit, and found that I stood straighter; Madame is very kind, my comrades very agreeable; that is all I know. Really, I hardly believe I am in Warsaw, for I know much less about public affairs than I knew in Maleszow, and I see none of the grand persons whom I sometimes met there. My eyes have not once beheld the king. The duke is away, and they do not expect him back soon.

Sunday, June 9.

If I were to pass my whole life in school, my journal would soon be ended. There is nothing to write about; and it is a pity, for I may forget the Polish language. I never use it but when writing my diary or letters to my honored Parents or talking to my little maid; on all other occasions I use French.

They say that I have made great progress in my studies, and the Princess Woivodine, who has not seen me for one month, finds that I have grown much and that I have now a very good carriage. Really, I am the tallest of all the girls in the school, and my waistband does not measure quite an ell.

Now when the weather is so beautiful, the sky so blue and the trees green, I feel often a kind of sadness coming over me. I wish I were a bird! I would then spread my wings and fly away, far away from the cage. But there is no help for it; I must stay here on Bednarska Street, the ugliest in all Warsaw, they say. But next year, if God grants me life, things will be different.

Friday, July 26.

I see that when one is busy the days pass quickly, even in school. I could not believe my eyes when looking now in the calendar, in order to put the date in my journal, I found out that for seven weeks I had not opened my book. But this day will be forever memorable to me: I received this morning, for the first time in my life, a letter addressed directly to me. The dearest and kindest Madame Starostine gave me that surprise, and wrote my full name on the envelope. So now they know at the Post-office that there is a "Mlle. la Comtesse Françoise Krasinska" in Warsaw. I felt like dancing for joy when I received that letter, and I will keep it with its envelope as an eternal souvenir.

Madame Starostine is in good health, very happy, and so gracious as to send me out of the income from the garden, which the Staroste leaves to her own disposal, four golden ducats with which I may do just as I please. It is the first money I have ever owned, and it seems to me that I could buy all Warsaw with it. I have been planning ever so many ways to spend it: first, I wished to give a golden ring as a keepsake to each of the young ladies, my school-mates, but Madame told me that I had just money enough to buy four rings and no more. Then I wanted to get for Madame a mantle in blond lace, and again I was told that it would cost fifty ducats at least. Finally I decided thus: I shall send one ducat to the Cathedral, in order to have a Mass said before the miraculous image of Christ, with the desire that the affairs of my honored Parents turn out according to their wishes, and also that Madame Starostine be always as happy as she is now. The second ducat I shall change into small coin and distribute among the house servants; and with the other two ducats I shall give a little banquet next Sunday. There will be ices, cake, also coffee which we never taste here. Madame has already given me permission to use my money in that way, but the young ladies know nothing about the surprise. May the Lord grant his best benediction on Madame Starostine for the great pleasure she has given me.

My education is progressing rapidly. I am playing several quadrilles and minuets from a book. In a few weeks I shall begin to paint the dead tree with the garland, and I am also embroidering, in cross-stitch, a hunter with his gun and a dog. I read much, and write from dictation, or copy whole pages from French books, and I begin to talk in French more easily than in Polish. As for dancing, the teacher says that there is not in Warsaw a better dancer than I; but perhaps he flatters me.

Sometimes I go to see the Prince Woivode and the princess, but only in the morning when they are alone. I always hear very agreeable things about myself, especially from the Prince Woivode, who wishes me out of school; but the princess and also my honored Parents say that I must wait until winter. Alas! it is only July. Will that winter ever come?

Tuesday, December 24.

Winter has come and the moment for leaving school is near. What a different kind of life I shall soon begin! Only God knows when I shall return to Maleszow, for the Prince Woivode and the princess graciously urged my honored Parents to let them keep me for the winter and bring me out in society. The permission was granted and so I shall stay in Warsaw. I am rather sorry to leave Madame Strumle and the young ladies, but the joy of becoming acquainted with that world of which I have so often heard and dreamt, is still stronger than my regrets. I shall soon see the king and the royal princes, as I shall be presented at court; the Duke of Courland is expected soon.

Saturday, December 28.

This day begins a new life for me. In the morning the Princess Woivodine came to take me away, and in her presence I said good-bye to Madame Strumle and my school-mates. I could not help crying, although I have been wishing so long for that moment. On our way we stopped at church, but I could not pray; my thoughts were too wandering.

I am settled now. My relations live on the street called the "Faubourg de Cracovie." Their palace is not very large, but extremely handsome and elegant; from the rear the view extends over a large garden to the river Vistula. I am occupying a pretty room which must be especially agreeable in summer, because there is a balcony leading into a little garden; on one side are the apartments of the princess, on the other is my maid's room.

A tailor has already been to take my measure and he seemed surprised at the smallness of my waist. He will make several dresses for me, but I do not know what they will be; the princess ordered them herself, and she inspires me with such awe, not to say fear, that I do not dare to ask her about anything. The Prince Woivode intimidates me less, although he is a man; he has gentle manners and seems to like me. I regret that he is not here at present; he went to meet the Duke of Courland at the frontier.

To-morrow we are going to pay visits. The princess will introduce me to all the first families here. I feel a little afraid and nervous.

Sunday, December 29.

I have three good things to write to-day. The Duke of Courland arrived yesterday; the Prince Woivode returned with him and greeted me as if I were his own daughter, and the visits are over. In some houses such as the primate's, the French and Spanish envoys', and some others, the princess only left small cards with her name and title on them.

Among the visits I remember best was the one to the Princess Lubomirska, née Princess Czartoryska, the sister-in-law of the Woivode. She is the leading woman among the young set, and affects everything French. I observe that here the more fashionable the house, and the younger the hostess, the more one hears French; as the old men sprinkle their conversation with Latin, so the young do with French. But in the salon of Madame Woivodine of Russ, the conversation was only in Polish. She is an elderly and very stately lady, and she pleased me immensely. I met there her only son, a fine cavalier, who paid me many agreeable compliments, and I think I enjoyed that visit most.

I enjoyed also the visit at Madame Poniatowska's, the widow of the Castellan of Cracow. She is a very remarkable woman and talks with great eloquence. She was giving a reception on that day, in honor of her son Stanislaus who had returned from St. Petersburg, and of whom it is said secretly that he may become King of Poland. I watched him intently, but I cannot say that he pleased me, although I acknowledge that he is handsome, and has grand manners, I should say royal.