Hélène thoroughly enjoyed her new life, and eagerly threw herself into the pursuit of pleasures entirely new to a little schoolgirl. She at once learnt to ride. Dressed in an elegant riding-habit, made to display her delicate and supple figure to perfection, and accompanied by her husband, she would spring into the saddle the first thing in the morning, as light as a bird, and as pleased with her liberty; then three or four times a day, with childlike glee, she would array herself in new dresses from Léonard or Mademoiselle Bertin; and we may be sure that they in no way resembled the little black convent-frock. At all the entertainments given in honour of her wedding, she fascinated everybody by her grace and liveliness; she danced with such spirit, acted so naturally and with so much animation, sang with a voice so youthful and fresh, that her husband, though not sharing her worldly tastes, was happy in her pleasure, and allowed her to give herself up to it without restraint.
Immediately after her arrival Hélène was presented at the Court of the Netherlands. The Ligne family possessed a magnificent palace at Brussels, near the Cathedral of Sainte Gudule, and often resided there during the winter. At that time the Viceroy was Prince Charles of Lorraine; he had married the Archduchess Marie-Anne,[10] sister of Marie-Thérèse, and was now a widower.
The Prince of Lorraine often came to hunt at Bel Œil. “He could not help being kind, even in his fits of temper, which were rare. One day, for instance, while hunting, on which occasion he gave himself the airs of an old huntsman, enraged at a number of people who disturbed the hunt by overrunning the forest at Bel Œil, he called out: ‘Go to the devil!—if you please, gentlemen,’ he added, taking off his hat.”
The liveliest, wittiest, and most fashionable man at the Court of Brussels was certainly the Prince de Ligne’s father, and he enjoyed his life there extremely. “It was,” he says, “a nice Court, gay and at the same time secure, idle and agreeable, with plenty of drinking and hunting.” However, when the Duke held a levee, and invited ladies, nothing but the most inoffensive gaiety was permitted, for the Prince hated all license and bad taste.
Prince Charles’s palace at Brussels was an immense and ancient building. Brussels reminded one somewhat of Paris, the town offering every kind of resource. The cours was the favourite promenade, and there the grandest equipages were to be seen. The coachbuilders of Brussels were famous, and the Duke was anxious that the nobility should possess the most elegant specimens of their work. Hélène made her first appearance on the cours in a superb gilt coach made by Simon; all the panels were delicately painted, in the most beautiful vernis Martin,[11] by clever Viennese artists.
In spite of his love for the Court of Brussels and his passion for Bel Œil, the Prince never stayed very long at either; he generally started off at a moment’s notice. “What a charming existence mine was, in my dear and delightful Bel Œil. In twenty-four hours’ time I could be either in Paris or in London, at the Hague, at Spa, etc. Once I went to Paris to spend one hour there, and another hour at Versailles, after the Queen’s last confinement: I saw her on the fourth day,” he carefully adds.
“On another occasion I took all my company there to the opera in a coach of my own.”
It was natural that the Prince should like Paris and Versailles, for he was the soul and life of the little intimate circle around the Queen; his presence gave animation to everything, and his invariable good humour and sallies of wit always secured him a smiling welcome. He was to be seen everywhere, arranging or disarranging the gardens; presiding at entertainments and directing the illuminations: he took part in the Queen’s lansquenet, Mesdames’ cavagnole, Monsieur’s whist, the Prince de Condé’s quinze, the King’s game of billiards, and the Prince de Conti’s pharaon.[12] He said everything that came into his head; but although he gave way to much exaggerated merriment, from time to time, under cover of a joke, he would make many serious truths acceptable.
His great friends were the Polignacs,[13] whose intimate society consisted of the Coignys, the Conflans, the Comte de Vaudreuil, and the Chevalier de l’Isle. He always defended the Polignacs against the numerous accusations which were brought against them.
He writes: “There is no one more virtuous and more disinterested than all these Jules, but their company was sometimes monotonous, so great was their fear of giving rise to prating and gossip; the Comtesse Diane was the only one whose conversation was at all lively.”