The Prince de Ligne’s Study—A Swimming Exploit—Travelling by Post—A Reminiscence of Mme. de Staël—Schönbrunn—The Son of Napoleon—His Portrait—Mme. de Montesquiou—Anecdotes—Isabey—The Manœuvring-Ground—The People’s Fête at Augarten.
When I went to pay my daily visit to the prince, he was still in bed, and I made my way to his library, where they had placed his couch. The room in which a famous man spends the greater part of his time is always interesting. The signs of his particular tastes are everywhere; the special character of his genius reveals itself in the smallest details; and the objects surrounding him supply food for our curiosity or attract our attention. With his books and manuscripts scattered here, there, and everywhere, the Prince de Ligne gave one the impression of a general in his tent among the trophies of his victories and the weapons worn in everyday life.
Abusing somewhat the licence accorded to poets, with whom ‘a beautiful disorder’ is accounted an artistic effect, the prince lived amidst a kind of litter which was not altogether devoid of gracefulness. Here, Rousseau and Montesquieu lying open beside a batch of love-letters; there, scraps of paper covered with verses close to a couple of military volumes of Archduke Charles; further on, letters just begun, and poems and works of strategy in a similarly initial condition. An admirable amalgam of the grand seigneur, the soldier, and the man of wit, the Prince de Ligne presented a type the like of which we shall not see again; now captivating the most distinguished women by the charms of a most brilliant conversation, then astounding the most consummate generals by the justness of his conceptions; and again delighting the greatest intellects by the subtlety and the truth of his comments.
He had a writing-desk before him when I came in. His intellect, aglow with a wholly youthful imagination, just as his heart was aglow with kindness, seemed to live against time; hence, no day ever passed without his throwing on to paper some judicious or playful, some brilliant or profound remarks, such as those with which his conversation was studded.
‘I’m going to Schönbrunn to-day,’ he said, ‘and I should like you to accompany me. I am performing ad honores the office of introducer to the little duke who was born a king. I only want to finish this chapter on the events of the moment, and then I am at your disposal.
‘I’m throwing my thoughts on to paper anyhow lest they should escape my memory,’ he added. ‘The grand picture we constantly have before us has the faculty of inspiring me; I fancy that amidst all these delirious joys a thought may now and again strike me which in days to come will either give pleasure or be productive of some good. Though yielding to this whirl of phantasms, I have not ceased to observe. Though an actor in the piece which is being played, I consider the whole of what is passing around me a simple kick in an ant-hill.’
Saying which he resumed writing. All of a sudden, being apparently in want of a reference of some kind, he looked up. ‘Be kind enough to give me that manuscript volume on the third shelf.’ I got up, but uncertain which volume to take, I hesitated for a moment. Thereupon he jumped out of bed and hauled himself up by the cornice of the bookcase, got hold of the book, and was back again between the sheets in less time than it takes to tell; I looking on in sheer surprise at the agility of a man of his years. ‘The fact is,’ he said, ‘I have been most nimble all my life, and my nimbleness has been exceedingly useful. During that kind of fairy journey when I accompanied the great Catherine to the Taurida, the imperial yacht was doubling the promontory of Parthenizza, where, according to tradition, the Temple of Iphigenia formerly stood. We were discussing the greater or lesser probability of that tradition, when Catherine, stretching forth her arms towards the coast, said: “Prince de Ligne, I’ll bestow upon you that contested territory.” No sooner had the words dropped from her lips than I was in the water, in full uniform, my hat on my head, and in a few moments I stood on terra firma. “Majesty,” I cried, drawing my sword, “I am taking possession.” Since then that Taurida rock is named after me, and I keep the land.
‘This, my young friend, shows that bodily agility may be attended with excellent results, and that there is nothing in life like prompt resolution. A few years before the outbreak of the Revolution, I happened to be in Paris. In the happiness of the hour, and with the carelessness of youth, I had committed a few excesses; I had, moreover, forgotten the state of my finances, and my purse was as empty of coin as my heart was full of joy and my mind of illusion. Nevertheless, I was expected in Brussels the next day to dine with the archduchess-governess of the Southern Netherlands. A total stranger in the vast city, I felt sorely embarrassed. I was on terms of intimate friendship with Prince Max, the present King of Bavaria, at that time a colonel in the French service.[43] You are aware of his generous and devoted disposition. During the whole of his life he was willing to share with his friends whatever he possessed. Naturally I went to him, but our excellent Max was not at that period a king, and had no minister of finances to direct and to take care of his savings. It just happened that his purse was as light as mine. What was to be done? A post-boy is the most inexorable of men, and at each stage he comes pitilessly, though hat in hand, to claim his salary. I was told that my cousin, the Duc d’Aremberg, much more sober in conduct, was starting that same evening for Brussels. I immediately made up my mind what to do. “I shall be there before him,” I said; and without a moment’s delay I transformed myself into a forerunner, and, booted and spurred, presented myself at the posting-office. I told them to give me a horse, and set off at a gallop to the next stage to order relays. In that way I performed the journey to Brussels, always a few minutes in advance of him, and seeing to the providing of his horses all along the route. My cousin, who had not despatched a forerunner, was unable to make out the providential arrangement to which was due the promptitude that thus shortened his journey. At his arrival I told him the ruse, at which we both laughed heartily, and thanks to which I managed to dine with the archduchess.’
While talking, he had dressed himself. When he had finished putting on his uniform of colonel of trabans, and had hung half-a-dozen grand crosses and ribands of various orders upon his breast, he suddenly stopped.
‘If illusion could provide me to-day with its mirror,’ he said, ‘how gladly would I exchange all this splendour for the simple dress of an ensign in my father’s regiment! I was only sixteen when I donned that dress for the first time; I imagined then that at thirty one must be very old. Time changes everything. To-day, at eighty, I think myself still young, although some cavillers say that I am too young. It does not matter, I am doing all I can to prove that I am still young enough. After all, my career has been a happy one, and neither remorse nor ambition, nor jealousy has troubled its course. I have steered my barque pretty evenly, and until I enter that of Charon I shall continue to fancy myself, in spite of those who insist upon considering me as old.’