Chapter XIII (5)

“As to the money question, it would be most painful to me to be a burden to anybody in the world; I would sooner live by manual work, and would not hesitate to begin by discarding all my household, and keeping only one servant.

“The few effects I possess, such as books, music, and some pieces of furniture, I no longer consider as my own; you will be good enough to take them into account in the sum I owe you for table expenses, washing, etc.; for, as regards money, I can give you none. I have made a purchase this month, which I should have avoided had I known my affairs were in such a bad state. I spent forty ducats in buying linen to make chemises, for I required some, and it was difficult for me to do without them. I was shown some fine linen, and as it is often difficult to procure, I bought it. If I become a prey to absolute misery, I shall yet have the necessary courage to bear it. You will care as much for me in sackcloth as in silk, and I shall be quite happy. I do not wish even to return into society. I became acquainted early in life with its most brilliant attractions, and soon wearied of them; I shall never get weary of a quiet life, even attended with poverty, if you love me.”

The Princesse Charles was a prey to all kinds of anxiety; her imagination was constantly inventing dangers: “I am far from being reassured,” she wrote to the Count; “on the contrary, it seems to me that each moment increases my anxiety and worry. I was told that on his return from Vienna the _Krajczy_ had gone to Dubus. If you meet him I fear that he will encourage you to separate from me; he will certainly have known MM. de Ligne at Vienna; their cause will have interested him, and he will try to oblige them by urging you to abandon me. This idea tortures me. Answer me directly on this subject. Since Thursday I have been abandoned to the melancholy tenure of my thoughts, and that without any hope of consolation; I am in great dread lest your absence should be taken advantage of to get you to give up all idea of our union; do not ever expect my consent to this. Should it be necessary for your happiness, I am ready to release you from your vows, but nothing will induce me to break those by which I have bound myself to love you always.”

The Princess had received a very short answer to the letter she had sent to the Prince-Bishop. He had not written himself, but had replied through his steward that he would reflect on the subject, and that he refused for the time being to treat with his niece’s delegate. Hélène wrote to the Count, and added:--

“If my uncle will not abide by the settlement, he has only to cancel it, and give me back my lands. But to take possession of my estates, and give me nothing in return, is really too unjust, and I cannot believe my uncle will let me die of hunger. It would be infamous if, with the immense fortune I possess, I were reduced to poverty by so cruel an injustice, notwithstanding every law to the contrary. God grant that I may escape the clutches of Silvestrowicz[101] with a sufficient income to be a burden to no one! But where is my uncle? Can I despatch any one to him, to explain my position and the ill-will of Silvestrowicz? I shall find myself without a _sol_,[102] and then what shall I do? tell me. But how could it be possible for my uncle to rob me so completely, without my obtaining any redress? It is only in this country that such a thing could take place. I am indeed very unhappy, but I am so affected by your absence that it prevents my dwelling upon my other griefs, which, at this moment, are but a minor part of my sorrows. Good-bye, Vincent; love me, for your love is all I have left.”

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

He wrote to Hélène that his own business kept him away from her, but that she had nothing to fear from the influences she had mentioned in a former letter. “I am greatly relieved,” she answers, “to hear at last that you are in Poland, and to know that I have nothing to fear from the _Krajczy_; his wife, his daughter, and his sons are all intimate friends of MM. de Ligne, and I dreaded lest he might meddle with our affairs. As for myself, I consider the engagement which bound us to have been a fatal error, seeing we were so young, and that our only fitness consisted in a mere similarity of birth and fortune. To you alone I have given my pledge, my real love, the most chaste and sacred of all ties.”

A short time after Hélène had fresh cause for anxiety. “Fancy,” she writes to the Count, “I have read in the _Gazette de Hambourg_ that Prince Charles is about to return to the Russian army by Léopol; he must therefore pass by Niemirow, or at least quite near it. I assure you that your Cossacks are barely a sufficient protection to reassure a coward like myself.”[103] But the Prince passed through without troubling himself about her.

At last the Count announced his arrival. “How my heart beats,” writes Hélène, “when I think that the moment is drawing near which will bring you back to me. I am so taken up by your return that whether you have successfully or unsuccessfully settled my business is a question which does not interest me as it would at any other time. I count the minutes, and can only speculate on the hour at which you started, and the hour at which you may arrive, and it seems to me as though I had centuries to wait.

“I hope you will receive this letter on your way. I have just received one from my uncle; it appears that he _is not angry with me, and, with the exception of helping me by his influence or his money, is entirely devoted to me_. What irony! But what can I do? If my family is indifferent to me, I am quite the same towards them; provided that you always love me, I shall have no wish left in the world; I have neither vanity nor ambition, I have only love.”

The Count arrived at Niemirow very much dissatisfied with his journey, and anxious about the future. He had thought, from what Hélène had said, that he would meet with no opposition to a divorce on the part of the Lignes, and instead of the consent he expected, he had only received a very decided refusal, accompanied by a severe criticism of his own conduct, and of the interested motives which, rightly or wrongly, were attributed to him.

He had also fancied he would easily obtain his wife’s consent by leaving her his two sons; instead of this, his schemes were baffled on all sides by very serious difficulties.

On the other hand, the position of the Princess, who was living an isolated life, almost hidden, it may be said, in one of the Count’s residences, in the neighbourhood of Niemirow, could no longer be endured without serious inconvenience. The Comtesse Anna was very much beloved in the country, her two children inhabited Niemirow, and everybody was beginning to wonder at her prolonged absence; how much more extraordinary would it appear when her husband should return! All these reflections threw the Count into a gloomy state of mind; he made a short stay at Kowalowska, but Hélène was pained by the coldness of his manner, and the embarrassment he showed during their first interview; he briefly narrated the unsatisfactory results of his journey, intimating that he could not remain at Niemirow, and advising her to go to her uncle’s and wait there for a solution which was probably very remote.

Although the Count made these announcements with a certain precaution, they produced a terrible impression on the Princess. She had behaved with the utmost good faith, persuaded that, to obtain a divorce and marry directly after, was the easiest thing in the world. Her marriage would cover the imprudence of her flight, and make every one forget the conclusions they had drawn from it. Suddenly she saw her dearest hopes vanish, her honour compromised, and the man for whom she had sacrificed everything calmly suggest that she should leave him, perhaps for ever. The strain on her over-wrought mind was too great, and she fainted. When she came to herself her women only were around her bed, for the Count had returned to Niemirow. She wrote to him at once: “When you left me I was in the greatest despair, yet you never showed the slightest feeling of pity. I can only say that I shall find my life odious if you persist in your intention of abandoning me. I appeal to you for an account of my destiny thus committed to your charge. Is it possible you could dispose of it with so little reflection?”

Hélène in vain waited all day for a reply; the Count did not answer. The next day she received a few lines, saying that he was ill. The Princess was not in the habit of leaving Kowalowska, and had never entered the residence where the children of the Countess Anna were living. But in her anxiety she forgot all prudence, and wrote as follows: “I am in despair at hearing you are ill; if you had sent me word sooner I should have perhaps found means of coming to see you. If you are unable to assist me otherwise, send me the key of the small garden gate; Saint Charles will follow me, and I will come, for it is impossible for me to let to-day pass without seeing you; I am in agony, and besides I have letters I must show you.”

The Count’s illness was only too genuine. The worry he had gone through during his journey, the awkwardness of his position, added to bodily fatigue, were probably its cause. At the end of three days a putrid fever of an alarming character declared itself, and for three months he was in danger of death.

The unhappy Hélène did not dare to take her place at his bedside; she only went secretly to his room in order to be certain that every care was bestowed on him. The Bishop of Wilna, on hearing what was taking place, decided at last to write to his niece. He urged her to come and settle near him at Werky, and promised to forget her _past imprudences_ if she would renounce her _mad infatuation for the Count_.

The Princess answered:--

“MY DEAR UNCLE--You must certainly have heard of the Lord Chamberlain’s illness; but what no one can tell you, and what I myself can hardly express, is the fearful state of despair I was in on seeing the only happiness possible for me in this world on the very brink of destruction.

“Now at last, after all my anxiety, he is out of danger, and although he was on the point of losing his life, I can truly assure you that he does not recover from a worse state than I do myself.

“Your letter arrived at the very moment that we were beginning to take courage, and to fancy that our union was still a possibility; you will imagine my despair on seeing that you only speak of a separation.

“I know your kindness of heart, my dear uncle, and am persuaded that you have never formed a plan without intending it to bring about my happiness and tranquillity; I therefore implore you, my dear uncle, not to consider any plan feasible that should remove me or oblige me to forsake the choice I have made. Whatever reproach may be cast at me, I am certain I do not deserve to be blamed for want of firmness or constancy. I am quite decided not to change anything in my way of acting, even should the present impediments last as long as my life. I therefore beg you, my dear uncle, to vouchsafe me a few words of comfort. Tell me that you wish to see us happy, but do not tell us that we must seek our happiness apart from each other.

“Good-bye, my dear uncle; accept the tribute of my deepest respect, and the tender affection which I shall bear you through life.

“HÉLÈNE LIGNE.”

After a convalescence which lasted as long as his illness, the Count started for Galicia. He had been touched by Hélène’s despair, and by her devotion to him. On leaving her he promised that he would again make every effort to obtain the divorce so ardently desired, and he left her, if not easy in her mind, at least somewhat reassured.

FOOTNOTES:

[90] Van der Noot, an active and zealous lawyer, but with more ambition than capacity, together with the _Grand Penitencier_, Van Eupen, headed the party who wished for the maintenance of the ancient, aristocratic, and sacerdotal constitution, while another lawyer, Vonck, a man of great ability, and General Van der Mersch, led the popular faction.

[91] The Belgians had, nevertheless, made the most brilliant offers to the Prince. Van der Noot implored him to come and place himself at their head. “I thank you for the provinces you offer me,” he replied in his usual jesting manner, “but I never revolt in winter.” Moreover the Prince, who did not approve of revolutions, was indignant at that of Flanders. “If I were there,” he writes, “I should speak first as a patriot, a word that is becoming odious to me, then as a citizen, another word often misapplied; and if I did not succeed I should speak as an Austrian general, and forthwith silence an archbishop, a bishop, a fat monk, a professor, a brewer, and a lawyer.”

[92] The Empress Catherine wrote to Grimm: “Joseph II. killed himself with his endless audiences; they are, to say the least, useless, and waste a great deal of time. I used to tell him so. He was acquainted with everything, except the disposition of the Flemish people when the rebellion broke out. I witnessed his astonishment when the first news arrived; he came to consult me, and was disposed to treat the affair as a trifling matter; but I took the liberty of advising him to pay it the most serious attention.” Joseph II. died on 20th February 1790.

[93] Prince Charles was extremely modest. His father wrote to Madame de Coigny: “I do not underrate my courage, which may be brilliant enough, but it is not unalloyed; there is a certain amount of humbug about it; I perform too much for the public. How infinitely I prefer the courage of my dear, good Charles, who never looks to see if he is being looked at.”

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

[95] The Comte de Chinon, Armand-Emmanuel-Sophie-Septimanie Duplessis, Duc de Richelieu, grandson of the Marshal, born the 25th September 1766, died the 16th May 1822. At the age of fourteen he married Mademoiselle de Rochechouart, but had no children by her. The Duke emigrated in 1790, went to Vienna, where he was received with distinction, and from thence to Saint Petersburg, where he was equally well received. “He possessed,” says the Prince de Ligne, “rare beauty, and a character of extreme gentleness. Though he did not inherit his grandfather’s superior talents, he had nevertheless a sound judgment, many natural virtues, and an ardent love of justice; he was less dissipated than his youthful companions, although fond of ladies’ society, and born to please.” The Duc de Richelieu was President of the Privy Council under the Restoration.

[96] The Marquis del Gallo, Neapolitan ambassador at Vienna, gave this ball in honour of the betrothal of the King of Naples’s two daughters with two Archdukes, sons of the Emperor Leopold.

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

[98] The 30th September 1790.

[99] The Comte de Browne took back Brussels from the Belgian patriots with a few companies of grenadiers and a handful of hussars. By dint of care, firmness, and gold, which he distributed in handfuls, he so completely re-established order and security in the town that it became more quiet, more submissive, and more prosperous than it ever had been. (_Unpublished Memoirs of the Prince de Ligne._)

[100] This phrase shows that the Count had not sent Hélène the Prince’s letter, in which he offered her one of his residences as a retreat.

[101] The Bishop of Wilna’s steward.

[102] A halfpenny.

[103] The Cossacks inhabited the plains of Ukrania, and the borders of the Borysthenes (Dniester). These savage hordes, who lived by plunder and pillage, were sometimes called Zaporogues (inhabitants of the cataracts). Most of the Polish noblemen in this part of the country had in their pay some hundreds of these brigands, who caused the greatest terror. They belonged to those who paid them best, and the cruelties committed by the Cossacks in Catherine’s pay during the massacres in Ukrania exceeded the greatest horrors that can be imagined. (See, for more ample details, Comte de la Garde’s _Voyage in Ukrania_.)

XII

Return of the Princes to Mons--Emigration in Belgium--A representation of _Richard Cœur de Lion_--Prince Charles re-enters the Austrian service--He represents the Emperor on his inauguration as Count of Hainault--War with France--Dumouriez in Champagne--The fight at Croix-aux-Bois--Death of Prince Charles--Despair of the Prince de Ligne.

The pacification of Flanders was an accomplished fact, and in 1791 the Prince de Ligne, accompanied by Prince Charles, officially entered Mons as Grand Bailiff of Hainault. A magnificent banquet, followed by a concert and a ball, was given in their honour by the States of Hainault, in the Town Hall.[104]

Several poems were presented to the Prince de Ligne by the students of the college of Houdain and others. It is unnecessary to say that the virtues of the Prince and the glory of his son were the chosen theme.

However, in the midst of this concert of praise, one discordant note was heard. A certain lawyer from Nivelle, called Masson, published a libel on the occasion. “Amongst several other things I have forgotten,” writes the Prince, “he said that at my entry as governor of Hainault I looked like an old Sultan, surrounded by women, to whom I devoted the whole of my attention, and that I had been stupid enough to accept in good faith acclamations of ‘Long live the Patriot Prince.’ This last statement is true. It was in a church, where I was either taking or administering the oath. I accepted this cry with the rest, without suspecting that its utterer had any malicious intention. As for the Sultan, he does me too much honour; it is true that, during my tedious progress, some very pretty girls threw bouquets into my carriage, and the crowd obliging them to stop near the door, I thanked them very much, and told them they were charming. The only reproach which might be considered not quite unfounded was that concerning my entry. The war had just ended, as well as the rebellion in the Netherlands, both of which had cost me a great deal of money. I might have made debts and covered my followers with gold lace; but I thought, on the contrary, the people would be grateful to me for not making too great a display. As I had two Turks, four Hussars, several bearded Russians, a Tartar with two dromedaries, and a Turkish band, he might very well compare me to Tamerlane or the Emperor of China, though I do not remember exactly which of the two I was supposed to resemble.”

The Princes were very heartily received by the inhabitants of the good town of Mons, where they were much beloved; on the following day they started with their family for Bel Œil.

As soon as he was settled the first thing the Prince did was to erect a monument in honour of his beloved son Charles, to perpetuate the memory of his brilliant conduct at Sabacz and at Ismaïl. He designed it himself, chose the site, and laid it out so as to imitate a spot in the Empress’s gardens at Czarskoë-Celo. “By following the left bank of the river,” he says, “you come upon an obelisk dedicated by Friendship to Valour. It is not my fault if Charles is the hero of it; it is not my fault if Charles distinguished himself in the war; it is not my fault if I am the father of such a perfect being. The father disappears, the man remains, and the hero is celebrated; I must not be accused of partiality, but I may be accused of pride.”

This obelisk, in marble, is forty-five feet high. On one side is inscribed, in gold letters, the following: “To my dear Charles, for Sabacz and Ismaïl;” on the second, “_Nec te juvenis memoranda silebo_;” and on the third, “His glory is my pride, his friendship my happiness.”

The de Lignes spent the summer at Bel Œil, happy to be quiet and united once more in the country they loved so well; but to an attentive observer the tranquillity which reigned in Flanders was not to be of long duration; threatening symptoms might be discerned on every side. The frightful progress of the French revolution, and the presence of the _émigrés_ in the Netherlands, caused anxiety in many minds.

Savoy, Switzerland, the Black Forest, Liege, Treves, Luxemburg, and the Netherlands were the first asylums of the persecuted; it was only later on, when they had lost all hope of a speedy return, that they went to Vienna, London, Poland, and Russia. The Archduchess Marie Christine, regent in the Netherlands, was the sister of the Queen of France; it was natural she should protect the _émigrés_; but Leopold was not favourably disposed towards them, and in the very beginning of his reign he requested the Archduchess Christine and the Electors of Mayence, Cologne, and Treves to do all in their power to prevent the refugees and the Princes from doing anything rash. “Do not allow yourselves to be led into anything,” he wrote; “do nothing the French or the Princes ask you to do; meet them with civilities and dinners, but give them neither troops, money, nor help of any sort.” He entirely separated the cause of the King from that of the _émigrés_.

The Prince de Ligne was extremely ill-disposed towards the Emperor Leopold; he reproached him with having sucked the milk of Italian dissimulation, and he would not have anything to do with his pretended political calculations. He adored the Queen, and his heart leaped with indignation at the thought of the dangers which daily threatened her more and more.

He had vainly solicited a command in the Austrian army. Leopold had carefully avoided granting his request, for he feared the imprudences his vivacity, his opinions, and his chivalrous devotion might lead him to commit.

We must admit that the Prince de Ligne was no passionate admirer of liberty; he very soon foresaw the tendencies of the revolution, and in 1790 wrote to the Comte de Ségur concerning the National Assembly: “Greece had her philosophers, but they were only seven; you have twelve hundred of them at eighteen francs a day, having no mission but what they arrogate to themselves, no knowledge of foreign countries, no general plan of operations, and not even the sea, which is a sort of protection to the makers of empty phrases, and to the laws of the country it surrounds.”

The Prince never missed an opportunity of showing his sympathy for the royal family. One day he was present at a representation of _Richard Cœur de Lion_ at the small theatre at Tournai. The public was chiefly composed of French _émigrés_, who were full of hope and illusion, impatiently awaiting the time when they should return to their country. The Prince could not hear without emotion the air of: _O Richard! Ô mon roi! l’univers t’abandonne_.[105] Tears came into his eyes, and the audience, perceiving his emotion, frantically applauded. “At that part,” says the Prince, “where the promise is made to avenge the poor captive king, I advanced, applauding as though I too wished to contribute my efforts. I was in earnest at the time, and it seemed likely that my services would be accepted. Suddenly the French ladies, both young and old, in the excitement rushed out of their boxes, and the whole of the pit, mostly consisting of young French officers, jumped on the stage, crying out: ‘Long live the King! Long live the Prince de Ligne;’ and they only stopped clapping their hands to wipe their eyes over-flowing with tears.”

Among the young refugee officers who were the most cordially received at Bel Œil was M. de Villeneuve Laroche. He writes in his Memoirs:[106] “The Prince de Ligne at this time was residing with all his family at Bel Œil, a fine estate distant one league from the town of Ath; he took pleasure in conversing with us about the principles of honour that were the basis of our conduct, and he commended us with enthusiasm.

“He was good enough to invite me several times to dine at his magnificent residence; I may even go so far as to say that I formed quite an intimacy with his eldest son, Prince Charles, an officer of the very greatest promise; he was a _colonel major_ in the artillery, and had lately distinguished himself in the war against the Turks....

“The son sympathised with our feelings as much as his father. He told me one day that he had just written to the Emperor asking to be employed in the coalition war, and added that if his request was rejected he would serve as a mere volunteer with the French nobility.”

Prince Charles had in fact urgently requested to be allowed to return to the Austrian army, with the rank of colonel in the engineers. After the death of the Emperor Leopold, which took place on the 27th of February 1792, the Prince was given an appointment in General Clairfayt’s army corps. The Austrian general-in-chief was the Duke Albert of Saxe-Teschen, husband of the Archduchess Christine.

The campaign was opened against the armies of the French republic; and already, on the 27th of May, Prince Charles had distinguished himself by his daring valour in a fight that took place near Condé; but no great battle was yet imminent. The enemy confined himself to skirmishes; the Duke Albert’s headquarters were at Mons, and the inauguration of the new Emperor, François II., as Count of Hainault, was to take place in that town. Prince Charles de Ligne was chosen to represent the sovereign on this occasion.[107]

We read in the _Journal du Palais et historique_ of the councillor Paridaens the following paragraph:--

_7th June 1792._

“This day being a feast of the Holy Sacrament, his Royal Highness the Duke Albert of Saxe-Teschen, who is Governor-General of the Netherlands, followed in the procession. Several generals accompanied him--among others, the Prince de Lambesc, of the House of Lorraine, who had been transferred from the French to the Austrian service, and also the son of the Prince de Ligne.”

_9th June._

“On this day, Saturday, the Prince de Ligne’s son, although quartered for some time at Mons, made his official entry into the town as Commissary to his Majesty at the ceremony of Inauguration which is to take place on the day after to-morrow. Guns were fired, although we are at the very seat of war. He entered on horseback by the Havré gate, crossed the square, and went up the Rue Neuve to the hôtel de Ligne,[108] while the bells were ringing. He was followed by the dragoon officers of the Coburg regiment, and by his liveried retainers.

“However, as the French, who were camped at Maubeuge, showed a disposition to interfere in the ceremony of Inauguration, and had in the last few days drawn nearer towards Petit, Quévy, and even Bougnies, on the evening of the 10th of June an attack was prepared and carried out at two o’clock in the morning. There was a violent onset and sharp cannonading, which lasted till five.”

Prince Charles, who would not have missed this fight for anything in the world, started off in the middle of the night at the head of his regiment, despite the Archduke Albert’s opposition. He fought with his usual bravery, was very nearly taken prisoner, having imprudently ventured too far amidst the enemy; and at seven in the morning, black with powder and heated with the fight, he arrived on horseback, post haste, barely in time to put on his full dress uniform and get into his coach.

The ceremony of the Emperor’s Inauguration as Count of Hainault is as old as the days of Charlemagne, but this was the last time that the traditional custom was to be celebrated. We have seen the importance attached to it by the States of Hainault at the time of the Flemish insurrection.

At half-past eight all the clergy of Mons, the ladies of the Chapter of Sainte Waudru, following the shrine of the saint, who was the patroness of Mons, all the magistrates, the deputies of the town council, the chief councillor of the Provinces in his State robes, and the twenty-six deputies of the chief towns in Hainault, preceded by magnificent banners from all the parishes, embroidered in gold and silk, took their places in the theatre. At nine o’clock his Highness the Prince Charles de Ligne left his hotel in a coach drawn by six horses and preceded by a detachment of dragoons, by the members of the order of the nobility, each one in a coach drawn by two horses, and by a herald-at-arms on horseback, named O’Kelly, bearing his coat-of-arms, and the cap and wand of his office. The guards and officers of his house closed the procession. On reaching the theatre his Highness seated himself on an arm-chair under a canopy, above which was placed a portrait of his Majesty.

When all the different orders were placed and seated, the trumpets sounded, Murray’s regiment fired a volley of musketry, the artillery on the ramparts answered by a salute, and the herald-at-arms, advancing to the front of the theatre, called _Silence_ three times. Then the Prince rose, and, laying his hand on the Gospels, first took the oath to the Chapter of Sainte Waudru, of which he was named Abbot. The Princesse de Croy, first lady of the Chapter, presented to him the crozier, and a salute of artillery and music and trumpets, etc., announced to the people that the first act of the ceremony had taken place. The Prince afterwards took the oath to the States, in the same manner; and finally, a third time to the town of Mons, after which he solemnly received the oaths of allegiance from the said Chapter, States, and Town.

“During the ceremony,” says the councillor Paridaens, “some national guards, taken prisoners in that night’s encounter, had been brought to the square, and just as the procession was threading its way to Sainte Waudru, at the entrance of the road, it was met by the generals who were returning from fighting the French. At the head of these generals was the Duc Albert de Saxe, with his nephew the Archduke Charles,[109] who had been under fire for the first time in his life. At that very moment the news arrived that M. de Gouvion, Commander-in-Chief of the French army, had been killed. It was vaguely known that the French had been repulsed, after having made, however, a good stand for the first time. Indeed the cannon had been heard without interruption from two o’clock till six in the morning. On the 12th of June H.R.H. Madame arrived about ten o’clock in the morning. “On entering the rooms of the Government House she heartily and repeatedly embraced her nephew, the Archduke Charles, as one might a friend whom one sees for the first time after he has encountered a great danger. I saw this from my dining-room windows.”

The Prince gave a banquet that evening to the principal town authorities; the Archdukes, the Prince de Lambesc, and other generals were present. On the following day he returned to the camp, only too glad to have done with a part so little in keeping with his natural modesty. Two months went by, events were succeeding each other in France with the most startling rapidity, the position of the royal family was becoming daily more critical, till the terrible 10th of August induced the Duke of Brunswick, commander-in-chief of the allied forces, to alter his plan of campaign. He decided to move on the army in the direction of the gorge of Argonne, so as to enter Champagne by Sainte Menehould, and march on Paris by Châlons. He gave orders to General Clairfayt to join him with twenty-five thousand men, who were to form the right wing of his army. This change of position on the part of Count Clairfayt decided Dumouriez, then at the camp of Maulde, to proceed to the plains of Champagne with the greater part of his army.

During the three months that had elapsed since the inauguration at Mons no important battle had afforded Prince Charles an opportunity of distinguishing himself; but, gifted with a sound judgment and an observant mind, he had employed the interval in forming a just estimate of the illusions entertained by the _émigrés_, and of the very imperfect description they had given of the state of France. He wrote from the camp at Boux a letter, which fell into the hands of the republicans, and was read at a public sitting of the Convention.[110]

“We are beginning to get tired of this war, in respect of which MM. _les émigrés_ had promised us more butter than bread. We have to fight against troops of the line who never desert, and national troops who remain at their posts. The peasants, who are armed, fire on our men, and if one of them is found alone or asleep in a house he is murdered. The weather, since our entry into France, has been horrible; it rains in torrents every day, and the roads are so bad that at the present moment we cannot move our cannon; moreover, we are almost in a state of famine. We have the greatest difficulty in obtaining bread for the soldiers, and meat is often wanting; many of the officers remain for five or six days without warm food. Our shoes and cloaks are rotten, and our men are beginning to fall ill; the villages are deserted, and provide neither vegetables, nor brandy, nor flour; I do not know what we shall do, nor what will become of us.”

This letter expresses a discouragement that must have been general, and circumstances were favourable to Dumouriez in preparing for the attack; but it was indispensable that he should at any cost prevent the allied army from occupying the Argonne pass. The forest was impenetrable except by five passages, which it was necessary to guard and hold against the enemy. These passes were the Chêne-Populeux, the Croix-au-Bois, the Grand-Pré, the Chalade and the Islettes. A camp placed at the Islettes and a position taken up at the Chalade would close the two principal roads to Clermont and to Varennes, and General Dillon was despatched for the purpose. Dumouriez established himself at Grand-Pré, to close the roads to Rheims and to the Croix-au-Bois. He sent orders to General Duval, then at Pont-sur-Sambre, to break up his camp at once and advance by forced marches to the pass of the Chêne-Populeux.

Dumouriez felt certain of success, but an act of imprudence frustrated his hopes.

The pass of the Croix-au-Bois had been considered less important than the others, and was only defended by a couple of battalions of infantry and two squadrons of cavalry. Dumouriez, in the stress of the moment, had not had the time to see and judge personally of the importance of this pass, but the German spies, employed to inspect the different French posts, informed the Duke of Brunswick of the advantages of this badly-guarded pass. Clairfayt confided the attack to Prince Charles de Ligne, who started on the 13th of September at early dawn to seize it. The abatis intended to bar the road had been carelessly made, the half-buried branches not offering any resistance to the enemy; the imperialists easily forced a passage, and the roads had been so slightly damaged that they made their way at once. They met with hardly any resistance, and easily carried the position. The men who held it hastily fell back on Dumouriez’s camp; the latter, anxious at the turn things were taking, immediately despatched two brigades of infantry, and six squadrons of cavalry, to General Chazot, with orders to recapture the pass at any cost. Chazot spent the day without attacking, but, on receiving fresh and urgent orders to risk an attack, he opened fire on the morning of the 14th.

The attack and the defence were vigorous; six times the post was carried by the French, and as often recaptured by the Austrians. Prince Charles sees that in order to keep the position it is necessary to capture a French battery, which, cleverly placed, is inflicting heavy losses on the Austrians. A vigorous charge is necessary; the Prince in person leads the attack on the battery; eight men in the front rank are shot dead. He dashes forward himself, the ninth, but, shot through the head by a bullet, he reels for a moment in the saddle, and falls back dead.

The French regained possession of the pass, and raised the body of the unfortunate Prince. They found two gold chains with a locket round his neck, and in his pocket an unfinished letter.

Clairfayt, in despair at the cruel loss the army had sustained, hastened to avenge it, and took possession of the Croix-au-Bois.

He immediately claimed the body of the Prince, and it was at once given up. Mass was celebrated in the camp the following morning, and the coffin started for Mons. At that moment M. de Villeneuve Laroche, a guest at Bel Œil, and a friend of Prince Charles, arrived on the scene.

“On the battlefield,” he says, “where yesterday the republicans were defeated, I met a funeral procession, escorted by a few foreign troops, going in the direction of Hainault. It was that of the young Prince de Ligne, who was killed in the fight, and the body was being taken to his unhappy father at Bel Œil.”

Prince Charles’s death was universally deplored; his brilliant military qualities caused him to be regretted by the whole army; the Baron de Breteuil wrote from Verdun to the Comte de Fersen: “Yesterday Clairfayt’s army came in for a sharp fight at the outposts, in which, however, it was victorious. Clairfayt’s army lost in the attack five or six hundred men, but what deeply affects me is that Prince Charles de Ligne was killed. I loved him from a child; he was the most distinguished amongst the Austrians of the same age. His father will feel the loss terribly.”

Prince Charles’s body was conveyed to Bel Œil, after passing through Mons[111] at night, but his father was no longer there; he had been recalled, with Marshal de Lascy, to Vienna.

When the terrible news arrived no one dared to tell him of it, and the Marshal alone had the courage to undertake the delicate mission. He sent the Prince word that he had received bad news from Clairfayt’s army, adding that he would himself come and inform him of it. “My son is wounded!” said the Prince as the Marshal entered. The latter remained silent. “But speak, good God!...”--“Alas! I would not, or I could not, understand,” he writes, “when he said that dreadful word: _Dead!_... I feel crushed by the news, and he had almost to carry me away in his arms. I see it still, the spot where I was when the Marshal told me that my poor Charles was killed; I see my poor Charles himself, as he welcomed me every day with the sunshine of his happy and good face. I had dreamt a few days before that he had received a mortal wound in the head, and had fallen dead from his horse. For five or six days I was anxious, but as one always treats as a weakness that which is often a warning, or perhaps a feeling of nature when there are ties of blood, I cast from my thoughts the fatal foreboding which was only too soon to be realised!”

The Prince never got over his son’s death, and he entirely lost all enjoyment in life. This sad recollection had made in his heart a deep and incurable wound. “That so light-hearted a man,” says Count Ouvaroff, “who had lived through so much and was so careless of misfortune, should ten years after this calamity break down at the bare mention of the beloved name! No one dared utter it in his presence; if he happened to speak of his son his voice would betray the intensity of his grief, and his eyes fill with tears.” There is something strangely touching in this picture of the old man, formerly so worldly and sceptical, as we should say nowadays, who _would not be comforted_ because he still thought of the child of his heart who was no longer. “There is,” said the Prince with admirable philosophy, when shortly after he lost all his fortune, “there is a terrible method of rising above circumstances. It is bought at the cost of a great grief. If the soul has been wounded by the loss of all that is dearest, I defy minor misfortunes to touch it; loss of wealth, total ruin, persecutions, injustice, everything sinks into insignificance.”

FOOTNOTES:

[104] The expenses of this banquet amounted to nine thousand eight hundred and ninety-five livres. (_Archives of Mons._)

[105] Oh Richard! oh my King! the whole world forsakes thee.

[106] Villeneuve Laroche, _Memoirs on Quiberon_.

[107] On the 11th June 1792 the inauguration of the Emperor François II. took place at Mons. By letters patent granted at Vienna on the 19th March, the new Emperor had authorised the Duc Albert de Saxe-Teschen to represent him in this ceremony, and to take the customary oaths in his name. The Duke Albert having in his turn appointed the Prince de Ligne, Grand Bailiff of Hainault, to perform these duties, the latter conferred the honour on Prince Charles, his eldest son. (Note communicated by M. Deviller, keeper of the records at Mons.)

[108] The hôtel de Ligne was on the Rue de la Grosse Pomme, it is now a hospital for incurables.

[109] The Archduke Charles-Louis, born in 1771, and youngest brother of the Emperor François, was one of the best Austrian generals during Napoleon’s wars; it is rather curious to study the outset of his military career.

[110] _Moniteur_, “Sitting of the Convention,” Thursday evening, 27th September 1792.

[111] Forty years ago, at Mons, there were old men who remembered Prince Charles’s death as an event which afflicted the whole city.

XIII

Prince Charles’s will--Hélène receives the news of her husband’s death--Departure for Werky--Hélène marries Count Potocki.

The unhappy Prince de Ligne had immediately sent to Bel Œil the necessary instructions for his son’s last wishes to be fulfilled, but the victory of Jemappes, which ceded the whole of Belgium to the French, prevented the de Ligne family from returning to Bel Œil, now in the hands of the enemy. Prince Charles’s wishes were contained in a will written shortly before his death. We shall see that he instinctively felt he would fall a victim in the course of this war. Perhaps, indeed, weary of life, he sought death, for he seemed to brave it; at all events the deepest melancholy overshadows the following pages:--

PRINCE CHARLES DE LIGNE’S WILL.

“As I shall most probably be killed, if not in this war at least in some other, I wish my body to be recovered and my funeral to be conducted with all the honours of war, and with the greatest pomp--military, of course.

“I wish my body to be carried to Bel Œil, after having been embalmed, so as not to incommode any one, for I desire to be laid with my good ancestors, who from father to son have all been honest men.

“I desire that my heart be wrapped up separately in a handkerchief which shall have belonged to her I love, and which I beg her to give for that purpose. As she has always possessed my heart during my lifetime, I wish it, after my death, to be as happy as a heart can be in the absence of the beloved one, that is to say, in company with something that has been her’s. I beg her to embroider on the first corner of the handkerchief _Alona_; on the second _Tendresse delicieuse_; on the third _Indissoluble_; and on the fourth the 21st September 1787, and the date of my death.

“I.--The whole of my collection of engravings, my collection of original drawings, and in general all the contents of my portfolios, are to be sold to the best purchaser. One will have to see in what country the sale will be most advantageous, whether in Paris, Vienna, London, or Amsterdam.

“_Nota bene._--Should any of my family wish to have these, he can take them at the estimated value, which, however, cannot be less than a hundred thousand German florins; for the drawings are really priceless, as I have none of inferior value, and all are recognised originals. This will, therefore, bring in a clear sum of a hundred thousand florins, which will be completely my own, and quite independent of the succession due to my natural heirs, which I leave to them according to law. This sum of a hundred thousand florins is to be divided into two parts: eighty thousand are to be sunk in an annuity for the benefit of my natural daughter Christine, so that there will be eight thousand florins a year for her keep and education, which, up to the age of fifteen, may be five hundred florins, and a thousand florins up to the age of twenty, at which time she will probably be married, and can then spend her money as she chooses: In such a manner, however, that she shall not spend more than eight thousand florins; and that all the money saved on this sum, up to the age of twenty or five-and-twenty, if she does not marry before, shall be placed out at four or five per cent interest; this will become her children’s property, care being taken always to add the interest to the capital.

“II.--Should she die without children, Norokos is to be her heir. As I am the adopted father of Norokos, the Turkish child I found abandoned during the war, the remaining sum of twenty thousand florins out of the hundred thousand realised by the sale shall be sunk in the same way on his account. The directions as to its use are the same as for little Christine. Should he die without children, Christine is to be his heir. I recommend their marrying, if they have any inclination one for the other; it is my greatest wish, and I beg my sister Christine to encourage this. I appoint her their guardian, and in default of my sister Christine, I appoint Madame la Comtesse Thérèse Dietrichstein, formerly married to Comte de Kinsky. I bequeath also to little Christine the portrait of her mother, painted by Le Clerc, and the chain I wear round my neck, with the following words on the clasps: ‘Ces liens me sont chers’ (these ties are precious to me). I beg her never to part with it, but always to wear it as a remembrance of myself and of the person who gave it to me.

“III.--My dispositions for the servants.

“I bequeath to Norokos my damaskeened Turkish gun with gold mountings, and my sabre with the steel guard--the one I carried during this war, in order that he may remember that it is to war he owes his condition; that he must look upon a military career as his fortune, his element; and upon the army as his country.

“IV.--I bequeath to my father the small painting by Le Clerc and M. Duvivier’s drawing, both representing the fight at Pösig, and I beg that my crosses of the orders of Merit and that of Saint George be suspended from them, since I won them by my father’s example; and as also I owe the happiness of having acquired some friends in the army through listening to all Lieutenant Wolff said to my father when dying, and remembering it all my life.

“V.--I bequeath to my sister Christine all my framed drawings, with the miniatures, cameos, and small frames.

“VI.--I bequeath to my daughter Sidonie her mother’s portrait, so that she may remember not to follow her example, and the Turkish sabre given me by Prince Potemkin, which she is always to keep in her room, so that her children may understand that I intend them to become soldiers; when her son fights his first battle, in which, I trust, he will distinguish himself, she will give him this sabre from me.

“VII.--I bequeath to Madame de Kinsky, who was Countess Dietrichstein by birth, all the framed engravings I have in my apartment at Bel Œil, and also the chain I wear round my neck which was given me by her dearest friend; I venture, on this account, to beg that she will wear it all her life, in remembrance of one whose happiness was bound up with that of Madame de Kinsky; this I positively affirm.

“VIII.--I bequeath to Madame la Princesse de Lichtenstein, a Mandesch by birth, several things I have at Brussels, which will be described later on, and besides these my watch, as a token that the happiest hours it has told are those I spent with her, and that to the very last I thought of her as a friend whose place in my heart was next to the one I have always adored.

“IX.--I bequeath to the Princess Jablonowska, Countess Czaski by birth, several things I have at Brussels, which will hereafter be named, and also the ring I always wear with the motto ‘Indissoluble,’ the small portfolio with the chain, and the other portfolios or caskets containing letters and manuscripts written by myself. I give this last proof of my confidence to her who has most claims on my gratitude for past kindness, who has best understood the nature of my thoughts, of my troubles,--in short, to a true friend, whom I am sure not to forget even in the other world.

“X.--I bequeath to the Princess Linowska, Thun by birth, my fine edition of Shakespeare’s works, and the best English horse in my stable, on condition that it will be kept exclusively for her use.

“XI.--I bequeath to Mademoiselle Caroline de Thun my eight handsome silver candlesticks, and my handsome coffee-pot, and besides this an annuity of twenty ducats, in order that she may procure for herself wherever she goes, and even in the house which she most frequents, the best arm-chair or couch that can possibly be made.

“XII.--I bequeath to Madame de Woina[112] a table and a tea-service, in order that she may remember the pleasure I had in going to take tea with her; also two Turkish sabres for her children, Maurice and Felix.

“XIII.--I bequeath to my good friend Poniatowski, my sabre set with Marshal Laudon’s stone, and also the shoulder belt, requesting him to wear it should he meet the enemy, in honour of one who to save his life would willingly have sacrificed his own. Also my fine horse Winer, so that he may be cared for all his life.

“XIV.--I bequeath to my brother Louis the King of Poland’s sabre and Marlborough’s pistols.

“XV.--I bequeath to my friend François, Comte de Dietrichstein, the arms found with me if I am killed, or that belong to me should I die a natural death, excepting those disposed of by special legacies; I beg him to collect and distribute the above-named legacies, and I am certain that he will not leave my body to the enemy. Should, however, an accident intervene, such as his being wounded himself, he must neglect nothing in having it reclaimed, with the chains and other things I wear on my person.

“XVI.--The portraits of Mesdames de Kinsky, Lichtenstein, Jablonowska, Linowska, and Caroline, as well as Poniatowski’s and that of Madame de Woina, which I request may be obtained, shall be placed in my apartment in the tower at Bel Œil, where I have already placed the coloured prints belonging to Madame de Kinsky. My wife’s portrait is to be previously removed and placed in the lumber-room. This chamber is to become a Temple to Friendship, and over the door shall be inscribed the words: _Abode of the inseparable_.