[14] I have re-translated the passage as closely as possible, although perfectly aware of its being neither a faithful French rendering nor even a passably brilliant paraphrase of the original in Henry VIII., Act I. I had no choice in the matter. It does not transpire whether M. de La Garde was responsible for it, or whether he copied it from a French version of the play.—Transl.
[15] Charles Joseph, Prince de Ligne, whom the Comte de la Garde mentions so frequently, and always in terms of the deepest veneration, was indeed a grandiose figure. Born in Brussels in 1735, he entered the service of Austria, and distinguished himself in the Seven Years’ War. He was made a major-general in 1766, a lieutenant-general in 1771, and the campaign of 1778 only increased his military reputation. Subsequently he travelled in Italy, in Switzerland, and in France; at Versailles he was thoroughly appreciated as a very able, amiable, and witty grand seigneur. In Russia, whither he was sent in 1782 on a mission, he became persona gratissima with Catherine the Great, who bestowed upon him an estate in the Crimea. He was present, as a general, at the siege of Oklakoff, directed by Potemkin, and at some of the actions of Laudon. In consequence of the part borne by his son in the insurrection of the Netherlands (the provinces now constituting the kingdom of Belgium), against Austria, he was removed from public life, and, though a field-marshal in 1808, he had no longer a command. The Prince de Ligne was an able and profound tactician. He left a great number of writings both in German and in French. They are replete with witty and pungent remarks, but the style is incorrect and diffuse. Under the title of Mélanges militaires, littéraires et sentimentaires, there are thirty volumes (1798–1809). His Journal des Guerres and l’Essai sur les Jardins are worth keeping. In addition to these he published in 1809 a Vie du Prince Eugène de Savoie. Madame de Staël, Malte-Brun, and Lacroix, have published either Lettres or Fragments, which were well worthy of being preserved, and which have practically become classics. His Lettres de Russie à la Marquise de Coigny have been published by Lescure, Librairie des Bibliophiles, and M. Lucien Percy has just published his Lettres à Catherine II.
[16] Née de Conflans d’Armentières, perhaps the only woman who succeeded in being platonically beloved by Lauzun. Paul Lacroix published these letters in a strictly limited edition of a hundred copies. The Marquise’s daughter married the well-known General Sebastiani, and died in giving birth to the future Duchesse de Praslin, who met with such a tragic end.
[17] The Prince de Ligne had bestowed the sobriquet on Napoleon, in allusion to his departure for Elba, and not from scorn, for nobody professed a greater admiration and more genuine sympathy than he for the most illustrious and most ill-fated figure of modern times.—Note of the Comte de la Garde.
[18] The Prince de Ligne had three daughters—the Princess Clary, the Comtesse Palfi, and the Baronne Spiegel; and two sons, Charles and Louis, of whom the former married the exquisitely sweet and pretty Hélène Massalska, and the latter, whence sprung the present Princes de Ligne, died prematurely.
[19] Frederick I., Duke, afterwards King, of Würtemberg, became in 1805 the ally of Napoleon, who created his royal title and gained his admission into the Confederation of the Rhine. In 1813 he joined the Allied Powers against France. After a somewhat despotic reign, he granted his subjects a constitution in 1815. One of his daughters, Catherine, married Jérôme Bonaparte, some time King of Westphalia, and proved herself a woman of exemplary moral worth and courage under most trying circumstances.
[20] See infra, the biographical notes on these princes.
[21] M. de la Garde published an account of that journey.
[22] Tettenborn was to the last very outspoken. At the time of his stay in Paris, court dress was de rigueur at the Tuileries for civilians and military, even if the latter belonged to foreign armies. Tettenborn was a superior officer of hussars; nevertheless he complied with the regulations, but he did not shave his moustache. Napoleon remarked upon this in a bantering tone. ‘You’ll admit,’ he said, ‘that a pair of moustachios goes badly with this costume.’ ‘Pardon me, sire, it’s the dress which looks ridiculous with a pair of moustachios,’ was the prompt answer.
[23] The Comte de Las-Cases, in his Mémorial de Sainte-Hélène, reports another case of the freaks of fate. ‘Serrurier and the younger Hédouville,’ said Napoleon, ‘were marching in company with the intention of making their way into Spain, when they met with a patrol. Hédouville, younger and more nimble than his companion, managed to cross the frontier, and considering himself lucky, vegetated for a long time in Spain. Serrurier, compelled to turn back, became a marshal of France.’—Author’s Note.