“The princess was glad to hear this in time, although it gave her great trouble and caused immense outlay; however, she consoled herself with the hope that she should succeed at last in delighting the prince. She immediately gave orders for the transport of the workmen and materials to this new ‘Folie,’ and once more did the hammer and saw resound through the silent wood, and again did the grinding cart-wheels disturb another solitude. Scarcely, however, were the foundations of this second pavilion laid, when the prince again disconcerted all the plans of the poor princess, by exclaiming one day after dinner, ‘I drove this morning by the river side—what a beautiful point-de-vue there is down by the Willows; most assuredly if I ever built a maison de plaisance, that is the spot I should choose.’
“This was too much. The princess was completely overcome. She burst into tears, and left the table, much to the astonishment of the company. Nothing could persuade her that the allusion was not wilful on the part of the prince, and she was in actual despair of being able to please him. She regretted not the large sums which she had expended, and which had already grown serious, but only the misfortune under which she had laboured in not having chosen the right spot. The prince laughed heartily at the joke, and, during the whole of that season, his favourite promenade was to the hill upon which the magnificent, unfinished Folie Princesse remains a memento of the devotion of her highness, and of her inability to give satisfaction.
“This lady was one of the ‘illustrations’ of Valençay, and her death has caused an immense vacuum in our circle. Both by birth and marriage allied to many of the sovereign families of Europe—with a colossal fortune—with the tradition and remains of great beauty—she gave up even her own identity, to become a mere part and parcel of the apanage of the Prince de Talleyrand, content to live in his shadow, and to borrow her importance from him alone. There was a great deal that was touching, from its total disinterestedness, amid all the absurdity of this romantic devotion.
“The prince was often annoyed by the extent to which she carried this culte, but, en homme d’esprit, he generally succeeded in throwing back the ridicule, which he felt was likely to attach to him, upon herself, and scrupled not to enliven the dulness of the evening circle by drawing her out; while she, poor soul, too happy to occupy his attention even for an instant, consented willingly to become his butt; and thus it often happened that the Princess T——, daughter, widow, and sister of princes and heroes, was employed to divert the ennui of many a little gentilhomme campagnard, or hobereau de province, who might, as matter of form and neighbourly feeling, chance to be invited to dine at the château. But, as I tell you, although perfectly aware of this—for she was by no means wanting in penetration—she cared not so that ‘ce cher prince’ found amusement; indeed, I think she even felt honoured by the preference accorded to her above the other guests.
“However, she failed not upon other occasions to avenge herself upon these witnesses of her discomfiture, and in her turn crushed without pity every one around her who was not the ‘prince,’ or allied in some way with him, or one whom he delighted to honour. With others, never was there a more rogue et fière Allemande, and in spite of her good nature and generosity, she had more enemies than many who sought less applause.
“She was the most eccentric person I ever met with; the last of a race of which it will be impossible, from the change in human ideas, ever to behold another specimen. In her youth she had been most beautiful, and still retained, saving the loss of an eye, traces of loveliness even in advanced age. She could not be called either clever or witty, but was the cause of such interminable wit in others, of such endless good sayings on the part of the prince, that Valençay, to those who were accustomed to her society, seemed dull à périr when she was not there. She had the greatest fund of originality and natural vivacity that could be possessed by any human being. Her ideas could not be made, by any force of reasoning or persuasion, to follow the tide of improvement of the times, and she could never be taught to believe that the revolution had wrought any change in the relative positions of the aristocracy and the people, but continued, to the latest period of her life, to treat all plebeians and roturiers as though they had still been serfs and vassals, subject at her will and pleasure to détresse and corvée. She was an invaluable specimen of the old insolent noblesse; and after a day spent in her company, you might retire to rest, no longer wondering at the horrors of the great revolution, nor yet at the hatred by which they had been instigated.
On one occasion, she had nearly set the whole province in an uproar by an unseasonable display of what the prince was wont to call her impertinence Régence. A large party had been invited to dinner at the château, a party in honour of the arrival of some high and illustrious visitor at Valençay; I think there were even scions of royalty among the guests. In short, it was one of the gaudy days of the castle, when the flaming yellow liveries, and the antique silver, and the royal gifts, were all displayed. Of course the préfet of the department, the maire of Valençay, the curé, and, in short, all the authorities of the place had been invited, and with true provincial punctuality had arrived at the exact hour named in the invitation, which, as usual in modern times, was long before the princely host expected to receive his guests; and, when they were ushered into the drawing-room, they found that none of the family had as yet appeared, and that they would be consequently compelled to amuse themselves as they best could until the ringing of the bell, which would gather together the stray members of the household.
“In a short time, however, the great doors of the drawing-room were thrown back with a loud fracas, and in sailed, in all the majesty of stiffened silks and fluttering plumes, her highness the Princess T——. The troubled provincials immediately with one accord turned from the chimney, where they had been talking in mysterious murmurs concerning the mighty individuals whom they were to meet at dinner, and moved in a body with sundry low bows, and a great display of gymnastic prostrations, towards the fair princess. The latter stood for a moment, and gazed as they advanced, then turning suddenly round to the grinning domestic, who had remained standing at the door:
“‘Fool!’ exclaimed she, indignantly, ‘did I not bid you ascertain if anybody had arrived, before I troubled myself to come down to the salon?’
“‘Yes, princesse, and I came myself to see,’ answered the servant, looking rather puzzled and embarrassed, first at his mistress, then at the guests, who stood wondering where the questioning would lead to, ‘and when I found these gentlemen here, I——’