"Our life was very uniform. At eight o'clock punctually we met at a little building at the end of the garden which Madame had dignified by the title of La Ferme, though it had not a pretension of any sort to such a denomination. It was in fact a small cottage consisting of a kitchen fitted up in cottage style, a small pantry, two bedrooms above, furnished with all the luxury of modern refinement—so much for the cottage. From what books Madame V. had drawn her ideas of rural felicity I know not, but she deemed it more sentimental to breakfast in the cottage than to enjoy that meal comfortably in her dining-room, so to the ferme we were to go, and, whether the weather was hot or cold, to sit near the blazing fire in the little kitchen and enjoy the rural felicity of making our own toast. At one we dined, took a ride or walk in the afternoon, and at eight sat down to supper.
"The house was not an uncomfortable, though somewhat singular one. Monsieur V. having been called away from home during the time that he was building it, Madame took advantage of his absence to take care of herself, and, in so doing, to spoil the house. She had a fancy that she could only breathe freely in a large room; she therefore constructed out of the body of the house an enormous bedroom for herself. It was square, with a dressing-room at each angle. Her husband, upon his return home, found his house completely spoilt, as this room occupied the main part of the first floor. However, as the mischief was done, he bore it with the greatest philosophy, venting his feelings with his usual exclamation on such occasions—'Oh, ma femme! ma femme!'
"The drawing-room was a pleasant and well-furnished room, it opened by a door, partly of glass, on to a flight of steps which served also as a bridge over a rivulet which ran close to the walls of the house. These steps led to the flower garden which was laid out in the old-fashioned style. In the centre was a fountain, round which there were beds of flowers. At the extremity of the garden there was a large orangery which had no pretentions to architectural beauty, but contained a magnificent collection of orange trees. During the warm weather, these ornamented the garden, and at a more wintry period, being ranged in rows in the orangery, afforded us an agreeable promenade.
"The gardens extended a considerable distance. They included on one side a kitchen garden and a vineyard, and on the other, to give the effect of what the French call an English garden, a wood had been considered a necessary requisite. It was cut out in walks, one of which led to the ferme and another to the hermitage, so that the garden may be said to have possessed every requisite for a perfect garden. But absurd as this reunion of bois, hermitage and ferme, may sound, the gardens were really pretty, and the connecting of the kitchen garden and the vineyard with the pleasure ground not only added to its extent, but its variety. I have often thought that our English kitchen gardens, by a little more variety in their form and by an intermixture of shrubbery, might be converted into an ornamental instead of a formal addition to our country houses.
"Adjoining the drawing-room was a room, prettily furnished, in which I slept, and which also formed a not uncomfortable sitting-room when I wished to be alone. Behind the drawing-room was the dining-room, which, like all French dining-rooms, had the appearance of an anteroom. It opened into the library where there was a good collection of books and also of minerals, indeed, there was hardly anything of which there was not a collection.
"On one occasion I incurred Madame V.'s serious displeasure. A hornet's nest had been discovered, and, as it was voted a great curiosity, was placed by Madame's orders among the other specimens of Natural history in the library. Warmed into life by the heat of the room, some of the hornets began to show signs of activity. The prospect was far from pleasant, and, alarmed at the disagreeable interruption about to be offered to my studies, I secretly commissioned a servant to throw the hornet's nest into the water. Boundless was the indignation of Madame V, on finding that I had deprived her museum of so great a treasure; and it was a considerable time before an act of such temerity on my part was forgiven.
"We sometimes took advantage of a fine evening to form a party in the woods. On an occasion when the Chevalier de la Lance was staying with us accompanied by his fifteen-year-old daughter, one of the prettiest of our Verdun belles, we had one of these excursions to the forest. After dinner some of the most musical of our party were requested by the young belle to enliven the evening by music. Madame M., my hostess's daughter, had a most beautiful voice, and had, of course, enjoyed all the advantages to be derived from Parisian masters. Whilst she was singing, we all observed that a nightingale perched upon one of the neighbouring trees continued silent; the moment she stopped, he began to warble forth his 'wood-notes wild.' This occurred not once, but repeatedly. He was far, however, from showing the same attention to the chevalier. Apparently not entertaining an equally good opinion of the old man's musical talents, from the moment that gentleman began to take up the song, the nightingale began also, and evidently did all in his power to drown the chevalier's voice!"
Another diversion at Ligny was la chasse. Monsieur M. was a great sportsman and very fond of shooting; he kept a small pack of hounds and seldom went out with them without inviting young Stanhope to accompany him. "One day," relates John Stanhope, "we were out fox-hunting on foot, our business being to head the fox and—horresco referens—to shoot him! The hounds were running, and all of a sudden came to a check and ceased giving tongue. At that moment Lord Boyle, who was out with us, and who was not far from me, levelled his gun and took, as it proved, a deadly aim. I looked at him in some astonishment, at a loss to imagine what game he could have seen when the hounds were not running. He fired, and then throwing up his arms in horror, cried out, at the same time stamping and raving, 'Oh! Monsieur M., I have killed your best dog!' Vexed as I was at such a disaster, I could not help laughing at the gesticulations of my friend, and at Paddy, with eyes quick enough for anything, having mistaken a dog for a fox. It was quite a practical Bull. No one could have behaved better than Monsieur M. He concealed his regret and said everything in his power to reassure and recompose the distracted culprit."
There was, Stanhope remarks, not much game in the neighbourhood of Ligny, though there could not be a country better adapted to it, as the house was situated between two forests, both of which abounded in wolves. "However," writes Stanhope, "I was only out one day at la chasse aux loups. I had been so long deprived of the amusements of a sportsman that an invitation from Monsieur M., to accompany him on the following morning produced so much excitement in my mind that I lay awake half the night … and I was not too late for the appointed hour of six o'clock. Monsieur M., another sportsman and myself, proceeded to a distant part of the forest. We were all stationed, in advance, at different posts where it was thought likely that the wolf might cross the path. The hounds were soon in full cry. My heart beat high as I heard them approach me, but, alas! instead of the grand gibier I expected, a poor little hare stole quietly by! It was a terrible falling off, and no wolf crossed our path that morning.
"Yet at the time of which I am speaking, we had pretty good proof of their being in our immediate vicinity, for one morning, when I was out walking, I heard, close to the house, a piercing yell. I ran to ascertain what was the matter and found that a favourite setter of Monsieur M., itself as big as a wolf, had just been carried off by one of these ferocious animals. Poor M. could hardly be consoled for the loss of another favourite dog, and was some days before he recovered his usual spirits. After I left Ligny, Lord Blayney and some other Verdunites killed six or seven wolves in one day's sport."