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at length dierl, and his successor considered services || She was indeed beautiful as the goddess of love, previously rendered to the state, as already recom- but with respect to the qualities of the heart and penced Weary of hollow promises, of tedious | understanding, nature had been very sparing. She expectation and disappointed hope, I was on the returned my salutation with an air of great nepoint of relinquishing the matter entirely and of | gligence, and drove a few hundred paces further retiring into the obscurity of a country life, when

to the Dutch farm-house, which, as you know, furtune afforded me an opportunity for an achieve- stands close to the river, where her carriage ment, which immediately procured me promo- stopped. In order to avoid passing by them tion and realized all my wishes.

again, I was just going to turn my horse into a Young Count. And what was that achieve-bridle-road to the left, when a most lamentable ment? I entreat you, my excellent father, to outcry assailed my ear. Il proceeded from those speak without reserve! What was it?

ladies; I saw them running to and fro in great Old Count. (Smiling), O it might easily be trepidation; and apprehensive lest some aceideat. painted too. A river of considerable breadth, might have happened, I rode up to the spol, from a some ladies shrieking and weeping on the bank, natural movement, as fast as I could. The mistress myself on horseback almost in the middle of the of his excellency, as soon as she perceived me stream, aad in my hands a dripping, half-drowned coming, ran to meet me, with a countenance Tap-dog. Not too inany objects; are they, think indicative of the utmost distress. “0, Gene

ral!" cried she, long before I reached the spot, Young Count. How, father ; are you serious ? " help us I entreat you! My little favourite Can the saving of a lap-dog

yonder he is in the water; he cannot get out, Ou Count. Yes, the saving of a lap-dog was we cannot go after him; he will be lost!” the important achievement which procured me a

Without farther reflection, or transferring this richer recompence than all the blood I lost on so duty to the person to whom it properly belonged, many different occasions ; than a service of thirty | I mean my servant, I spurred my horse into the years, often embittered by distress; than the ex- river, caught the unfortunate favourite, who, had ertions of so many days and the watching of so I been a moment later must inevitably have gone many nights. It would be easy for me to raise to the bottom, and restored him to his mistress. your astonishment still higher, were I to describe Such a scene now look place that it was difficult the dog itself, old, infirm, with only one eye, re. to suppress, I will not say a smile, but loud bursts markable neither for form nor colour; or, were I of laughter. It is in possible for the tenderest to delineate its mistress, to expatiate on her intrin- mother to express more extravagant joy over sic merit, her descent, which was the very reverse her only son, whom she supposes among the of noble. But no, a regular narrative is better than slain and who returns unhurt to her embraces. such a disjointed account : listen then to me! 1 Besides, the high-flown congratulations of the was one morning taking a ride full of thought. Il company, their emulation to caress the little The rank of a Field marshal had just then become favourite, and their fear lest he should wet their vacant by the death of Von - There clothes ; their exclamations, out-cries, and talkwere many applicants for it; I was one, the oldest | ing all together, produced a scene of confusion and the most experienced; but I foresaw that I || that was irresistibly ludicrous. Thinking that I should apply in vain ; for the minister, Von had performed my part, I was going to take K—, was at that time more uncontroled mo- leave and ride away, when the overjoyed lady narch of the state than the sovereign himself, and so urgently entreated me to favour ihem a little the Prince had often given the friends of the longer with my company, that I suffered myself favourite the preference to his own. He was, to be persuaded, alighted and offered her my to be sure, well enough disposed to me; I knew, / arm. “ General," whispered she, taking hold of however, that he expected Aattery from every it, if I ever forget this service, or let it pass unone that approached him; but I was much too rewarded; if the minister be not from this day proud to pay court to a man, who was trembling your warmest friend; if your present application at the rod of the schoolmaster, at a time when I ll be not speedily successful; or if I ever suffer was confronting danger and death in the field of | you to ask for any favour in vain, may the same battle. The success of my application might accident which to-day happened to my lap-dog, easily be predicted even without any spirit of befal me the next time I go abroad." I bowed, prophecy. I was riding, as I said, and lost in in token of obligation, but without making any thought, when a carriage passed me; I looked reply ; for to confess the truth, I was too proud to up and perceived in it the mistress of the fa- express much gratitude to such a woman, and yet 'vourite, a creature who had raised herself from too attentive to my own interest entirely to reject the situation of chambermaid to the possession any advantage that threw itself in my way. At of unbounded influence over her former master.

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any rate, I was fully resolved never 10 put her in science attested that I had earried this elevation mind again of the affair.

by many preceding actions, be assured that I Next morning, however, the minister drew me should have refused it; but a survey of my past to the corner of a window in the Prince's anti- life, and a look at you, caused me to accept the chamber, and assured me, that the sovereign had proffered promotion. It is indeed possible that lately mentioned me several times in the hand I may be mistaken in my conjectures; the whole somest terms; that he had confirmed him in may have been a mere coincidence of the circumthese favourable sentiments, and had the strongest stances. But yet, my son, I cannot help thinking hope that he should soon be able to congratulate that the poor dog deserved a place, and I shall at me on the attainment of my wishes. He was least wish that you may once have occasion to right; for the same month I was promoted 10 relate a similar story to your son. the rank which I now hold. Had not my con.



I am in doubt, whether I should call the face expressive o intelligence, with the total Poles a tall people, or not. That there are many absence of all indicatiuns of laborious effort. above the common stature, is unquestionable; His inanners are condescending, kind, and famibut I think the idea will be more fairly gene- liar, beyond all praise. Every one feels at ease ralized by the assertion, that they are about the in his company; from his various and extensive middle size. They are rarely corpulent. Their com- knowledge, both of books and of men, he can plexions are fair, often colourless, and generally | adapı himself with facility to all persons and chawith far less colour than the English. The eyesracters. Yet he has more real dignity than is and hair are usually lighi, though there are many often seen even in persons of the first runk. In beautiful exceptions. Il never struck me, that truth, he cannot help being conscious that he they possess any strongly marked peculiariiy of loses nothing by a near inspection. His intel. feature. The general expression of the coun-lectual superiority screens him from the possibitenance is, amiable, friendly, and interesting-lity of all contempt, as an effect of familiarity. the natural result of their general character. The more intimately he is known, the more sins

There are no traces remaining of that bold and cerely is he loved, the more certainly admired daring spirit, which so peculiarly characterised But the quality which imparts the great charm the rugged virtues of their Sarmatian ancestors.

to his manners and conversation is, the real and I by no means intend to say, that they are de manifest benignity of heart, which flows in every ficient in the ordinary and gentlemanly courage; word, and prompts to every action. I have often but we no where discover those symptoms of heard him spoken of by different people, on ocstrong thought which impels to intelligent ac- casions, and in situations, which totally precluded tivity and enterprize.

all sentiments of Mattery or views of interest; Their manners are singularly polite, open, and and the genuine expressions of affection and affable--no insolent pride, no disgusting hauleut; || esteem have been so distinctly marked on the .conscious of their rank, as is natural and in countenances of the speakers, as to render it in. evitable; but they know how to descend with possible to doubt the worthiness and true respecgrace and dignised kindness.

tability of character in the object wbich bad I cannot give a more apt, or a more illustrious awakened them. example, than the Prince Czartoryski. His per- The person of the Count Zamoyski is tall and son is, perhaps, rather below the middle stature, erect. His coin plexion clear, but colourless; but erect and well proportioned; his counte- light hair ; a long nose; eyes light and large, nance, open and sanguine, invites to friendly in with a countenance singularly open and bene tercourse; his forehead clear, open, and for a volent--a very good face. He has evidently the man who has passed the meridian of life, remark-appearance and manners of a gentleman; but, ably free from wrinkles ; his nose is slightly aqui- || What is far higher praise, his excellence of heart line; his eyes--dark, bright, and playful, indi shines through all his conduct. I have never seen cative of a lively fancy are well overshadowed a human being whose disposition is more essenwith eyebrows slightly arched, raised, and move cially good and honourable. He delights to con able by the electric touches of thought; it is a template pictures of happiness and of perfection."


If he has followed a character, even in a play, l, and of which the lower part is graced with beauwith interest and admiration, it painfully wounds | tiful dark eye-brows, exhibiting the gently wavhis sensibility, to tind that character deviate from ing line, expressive of taste and feeling. If I hooour, and thus mar the virtuous reveries his may be permiued to notice any quality which fancy had been weaving. Nothing could give may be thought to dim the lustre of this assemhim a more deep regret than the thought that he blage of beauties-it is, that her lovely eyes are had injured a single human being. These ad- not exactly in a line with each other; but the mirable qualities, I have before observed, are deviation is so trifling, as to be observed only in not likely to lie inert and useless.

certain positions of the face; nor am I sensible I have spoken thus particularly of these two that it detracts any thing from the general effect, illustrious men, because I happened to know It is as a spot upon the glorious face of the sun, them best; without intending the slightest dis- || which serves to augment by contrast his effulgent respect to many oiher noble Poles, whom I had | brightness. Her eye-lids, the edges finely curved, the honour of seeing. Of others, indeed, the

and adorned with dark eye-lushes, open and list characters I should be enabled to give would be themselves with peculiar beauty; and when her so general, as to be little flattering to themselves, eyes, in soft and lambent lustre, are cast heavenand as little amusing to my readers.

ward, her soul rape in pleasing contemplation, My fair country-women will now be curious | she then displays one of her most beaptiful and to know something about the ladies of Poland, || interesting attitudes. In this altitude she has sat and I proceed 10 gratify their curiosity. Whether for her picture. I shall fatter their vanity quite so much as they

But the powerful inagic of this lady's beauty could wish, I shall leave themselves to deter. | proceeds from that sensibility which pervades mine. I must assure them, at the outset, that I and animates her lovely form. It is this which have high praises to bestow on foreigners; yet, || gives a natural ease, an inimitable grace, 10 all on striking an equitable balance, I am free her inovements, which art alone can never beto acknowledge that the advantage is still their stow: It is this which tunes her voice to soft,

melodious accents-which inspires her with In point of stature and general appearance, }

elevated sentiment, and the touch of symhave scarcely any remark to make which could pathy. discriminate the Polish ladies from the English, When her soul is up-when her feelings are Their complexions are fair and clear, perhaps || awake, and in search of objects to keep them in more generally colourless than those of English | play, she will often go to her. instrument; and ladies. Rouge is almost universal, except among the obedient strings, responsive to the electric young girls. The quantity, as it may seein, is in | kiss, will proudly rise in full' and warbled harsome sort of proportion to the rank of the lady, || mony, or gently sink in dying sounds, which melt and certainly increases with the age: for a wo- and pierce the soul. man advanced in years is rouged even to the eyes. But her qualifications end not with the ordi: Their teeth are commonly good: hair and eyes nary female accomplishments. She has a high generally light, though with many exceptions. relish for the beauties of poetry, and a delicate Their cast of features is extremely various; and taste in the productions of fine literature in yeI should be quite at a loss to select any which neral. Of this I had once a striking proof. She should be nationally characteristic. I shall there had been reading on a certain day in-one of the fore content myself with giving two or three ex- voluines of La Harpe; and had been both in. amples; premising, however, a bint to English || forined and delighted. On joining the compariy ladies, not to be too much in a hurry with their in the saloon, her countenance was flushed with general conclusions respecting all Polish ladies, || sentiment and interest, and she expressed her grounded on these select particulars.

grateful acknowledgments to the writer who had The Countess ZAMOYSKI. -This lady is tall given her pleasure so refined and exquisite. Such and slender, with an elegance of form, which the men (said she) I would load with honours while loveliest of the graces inight behold with envy. I alive, and when dead, would erect statues ta She is of that class of beauty, which in common their memories. In such a soul, the enthulanguage we call dark, as she has dark hair and siast poet would wish to establish his splendid dark eyes; yet her complexion is beautifully fair empire. and clear; her nose and chin feminine, well and | But Ishall be reminded, I am afraid, that I am delicately shaped; her teeth white and regular; not now describing the heroine of a romance. I her mouth well formed, with sweetly pouring || admit the justness of the imagined rebuke. But lips. She has that part of beauty in which ladies surely, it were an injury and a symptomi of a mos are most deficienta fine, smooth, and open rose and gloomy temper, to speak of beaury and forebead, which loses nothing on being shown, y excellence so consummate, in the dry and home


spun terms of vulgar admiration. Why will || I must not forget to speak the praises of this dis. not ladies be more extensively convinced, that tinguished beauty. She is about the middle it is by qualifications like these alone, by which | stature, her person well-formed, and rather full; they can hope lo enchain the soul? Beauty is but it is the plenitude of health and joyance ; not beauty without sentiment, without intelli- there is no approach to lustiness. She has a gence, without expression. We may admire the complexion beautifully fair; eyes and hair light, delicacy of contour in a statue. But lines straight || though not so light as to betray any sort of weak. or waving, or curved or angular, constitute not a

Her features are perfectly regular and human being. We cannot sympathize with a beautiful; their expression sweet and naturalstatue; it is intelligent expression the viral a healthful and a joyous beauty, abundant of glow of feeling, whose pervasive radiance warms love's choicest blessings. and illumines the magic circle, and weaves the In speaking generally of the Polish ladies, in deep spells of beauty's soft dominion. The Count point of manners and disposition, they appear in Zamoyski is worthy of a spouse so amiable; and a very amiable and estimable light. To say of though they are both still young, five boys | ladies of rank, that they are polished and accom. and a girl attest the happiness of iheir conjugal | plished, is no distinctive praise, as those qualificaunion.


be taken for granted. But it is to their PRINCESS or WIRTEMBERG-sister of the distinguished honour, that their manners are con. preceding, and consort of the brother of the descending, kind, and affible; and that their Prince of Wirteinberg, married to our Princess pride and ideas of rank are alınost uniformly subRoyal. She is separated, however, from her hus. | dued by their singular amiability. band, on account of treatment, which has obtained And here I shall take the liberty to make one and (as report says) has merited the epithet of remark, which people may call morálizing, if brutal. It is no dispraise to this lady to say that they please; it is, that pride never takes deep she yields to her lovely sister in personal charms. root but in cold constitutions. The warm, the In feminine accomplishments, she is nothing in. || generous, are 100 nyuch occupied with their own ferior. To her bonour be it said, that no one feelings, and their affection for others, to attend more affectionately loves her sister, or is more

to suggestious exclusively selfish. I trust, that forward in generous admiration of her. Yet her the quality I would wish to stigmatize will not own person has striking and peculiar beauties. be confounded with the pride of elevated She has the divinest full dark eyes which ever thoughtsa sense of personal dignity, and of adorned the countenance of woman, perfectly station in society, justly entitled to be styled placed, and surrounded by those clear and delicate | noble, and honourable to human character. shadings, which indicate feeling and genius. Her The tempers of the Polish ladies, though sus. forehead is clear and open, and her fine dark eye- ceptible of great exhilaration, are gentle and brows are the seat of unwonted expression. The affectionate-as if formed by nature lower part of her face is less perfect, considered

Pour parler d'amour as belonging to a woman; but there is not a

Pendant tout le jour. feature which impresses us as disagreeable. I shall present the completest idea of this lady's || Frank and unreserved, they are always free to face, and bestow on it, at the same time, no converse ; yet unlike the sparkling vivacity of ordinary praise, by observing, that it is a striking, the French women, who rather storm than invite though perhaps a softened resemblance, of that attention, their manners solicit regard by inobof Mrs. Siddons--a resemblance by which she is trusive allurements by attractions more secret, much hattered. The mental qualifications of not less powerful. this lady, in no wise disappoint the expectations The national dress of a Polish gentleman conwhich arise from the intelligence of her counte-sists of a vest or waistcoat with sleeves most comnance. If the conversation has happened to turn monly of pink, yellow, or blue silk, though the on the important topics of the affairs of king-colour may vary with the taste of the wearer. doms, I have been astonished at the soundness of Over this is worn a loose tunic of cloth, velvet, or her observations, and the confilent clearness with silk, according to persons and times, which which they were uttered. In speaking of the reaches a little below the knees, and is confined fdle of Poland, I once heard her remark, with about the waist by a sash of silk. The sleeves are an air of reproachful emphasis, “ If we had had full, and slashed towards the shoulder, both behind a head in Polanıl, the country might yet have and before; and the open places are lined with been saved !". Perhaps her highness was not far silk the same colour with the vest. The breeches from the truth.

or rather trowsers, are on ordinary occasions of Princess CONSTANTINE CZARTORISKA.-At cloth ; at other times of silk, likewise of the same the risk of exciting the envy of the English fair, 1 colour; and their extremities on the legs are met and covered, like our pantaloons, by the lined with wool and edged with tur. This practops of yellow Turkey-leather buskins. The rice is not wholly discontinued, but their ordinary tunic is open at the bosom to display the silk cloths are now more commonly lined with wool, vest beneath, and edged throughout with fur, or rather with prepared sheep-skin; so that a sometimes with ermine. The shirt collar should Polish gentleman may walk or ride out apparently be open, or confined only by a single button. All only in a sort of shooting jacket and bouts, tho' neck handkerchief, however, is now usually the first would be lined with sheep-skin, and the added Without doors, a roundish cap of some last perhaps with wolf-skin, the hair turned togay coloured leather is worn, ornamented with || wardo the leg. The only apparent difference fur. The head is shaved with the exception from the dress of an Englishman would consist only of a circular patch of short hair, about three in the furred or velvet cap, lined also with sheepor four inches in diameter. Whiskers also, and skin. If a person goes out during the severity of a sabre, as a mark of nobility, are essential to the frost without one of these caps, he is liable complete the costume, but the latter is discon

to a headache so tremendous as scarcely to be tinued. When on horseback, the Polish noble borne. The Poles speak of it with horror. I has a sumptuous mantle thrown over his shoul- have been so imprudent more than once, to walk ders.

out only with an ordinary hat; and though I did This dress is undoubtedly grand and pictur- not feel in consequence a headache of the violence esque, but more showy than useful. No dress described, I yet felt enough to be convinced that can be founded on a just taste which does not the warning which had been given me was not join convenience to elegance. It is now very without reason. The gloves are also lined with generally laid aside. The Poles have adopted fur. the English fashions in this, and in some other particulars. But there is rarely any considerable most persons not of the first rank. This word is party without the presence of several persons in evidently borrowed from the English riding.coat, the ancient national costume. These instances | It is the common surtout, or upper-coat, and is are almost always found among elderly men, and worn without any other under it. Within door, those too not of the first consequence. I do not it is the ordinary coat also in winter. recollect more than a single instance of a young The chief peculiarity in the dress of the ladies person, in genteel company, thus habited. The is, in winter, a large silk pelisse, lined or rather old farmers retain the ancient custom; the young padded with wool, and often erged with fur. ones have abandoned it.

This is used only when they go into the open air, In winter the Poles formerly wore sables, the In general, their dress differs little or nothing skins of tygers and leopards, &c. also velvets from that of English or French ladies.

het "During the summer the redingote is worn by



I had contracted an intimacy with a young assumes an appearance which, encouraged, will gentleman at Copenhagen, who came from Nor- rival in taste and natural beauties, the first cities way, to enter himself a student at our university; of the world. and we proposed, in the summer of 1802, to As soon as the gates are opened on Sunday make an excursion into the country. We set off afternoon (they are always shut during divins in the month of June, by the western gate, close service), immense crowds flock along this road. without which a glorious monument stands on The avenue fills with company, who cambie to the high road, in commemoration of the eman- the Royal Gardens, or the village, where the ear cipation of the peasants.

is entertained with music from every quarter. The road, on either side, leads to large, hand-Mirth and festivity are universal, and good order some, and even magnificent houses. At some pervades the whole. little distance from the monument it branches We entered the gardens, and passed some into an avenue on the right, composed of six re. || agreeable hours in viewing the different improvegular rows of lofty lime trees. These lead to

ments. They are not, however, equally deserving Fredericksberg, over fertile and highly cultivated || commendation, particularly the canal and waterfields, many of which have latterly been meta- ) fall; but the grotto, which embowers the spring, morphosed into gardens, surrounding elegant and and the singularly beautiful serpentine walks Sunciful villas, Thus, this delightful avenue ll which conduct you, as it were, through irregular

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