S0UVEX1RS OF VERSAILLES.137
On entering the spacious and brilliant saloon, where the governor, his lady, and their numerous family awaited me, I could have imagined myself in London, or rather in Petersburg, for the lady of the house was ensconced,
Scarcely had she invited me to sit down in this sanctuary than she thus addressed me:
My unele, Count Elzear de Sabran, had been from his boyhood celebrated in the society of Versailles for his poetical talent, and he would have been equally so in public society if his friends and relations could have persuaded him to publish his collections of fables — a species of poetical code, enlarged by time and experience; for every circumstance of his life, every public and private event, has inspired him with one of these apologues, always ingenious, and often profound, and to which an elegant and easy versification, an original and piquant turn of expression, impart a peculiar charm. The recollection of this was far from my thoughts when I entered the house of the governor of Yaroslaf, for my mind was occupied with the hope, too rarely satisfied, of finding real Russians in Russia.
I replied to the lady of the governor by a smile of astonishment, which silently said ¦— explain to me this mystery. The explanation was soon given. ' I was brought up,' continued the lady, ' by a
138
SOUVENIRS
friend of your grandmother, Madame de Sabran; that friend often spoke to me of her natural grace and charming wit, as well as of the mind and talents of your uncle and your mother; she often even spoke to me of you, though she had left France before your
birth. It is Madameto whom I allude; she
accompanied into Russia the Polignac family when they became
In concluding these words Madamepresented
me to her governess, an elderly person, who spoke French better than I, and whose countenance expressed penetration and gentleness.
I saw that I must once again renounce my dream of the boyards, a dream which, notwithstanding its futility, did not leave me without awaking some regret; but I had wherewith to indemnify myself
for my mistake. Madame , the wife of the
governor, belongs to one of the great original families
of Lithuania; she was born Princess ¦. Over and
above the politeness common to nearly all people of this rank, in every land, she has acquired the taste and the tone of French society, as it existed in its most flourishing epoch; and, although yet young, she reminds me, by the noble simplicity of her manners, of the elderly persons whom I knew in my childhood. Those manners are the traditions of the old court, respect for every kind of propriety, good taste in its highest perfection, for it includes even good and kindly dispositions, in short, every thing that was attractive in the higher circles of Paris at the time when our social superiority was denied by none; at the time when Madame de Marsan, 1huiting fierself
OF VERSAILLES.139
to an humble pension, retired voluntarily to a small apartment in the Assumption, and for ten years devoted her immense income to paying the debts of her brother, the Prince de Guemenee, — by this noble sacrifice extenuating, as far as was in her power, the disgrace and scandal of a bankrupt nobleman.
All this will teach me nothing about the country I am inspecting, I thought to myself, nevertheless it will afford me a pleasure that I should be loath to deny myself, for it is one that has now become more rare perhaps, than is the satisfaction of the simple curiosity which brought me here.
I fancied myself in the chamber of my grandmother *, though, indeed, on a day when the Chevalier de Boufflers was not there, nor Madame de Coaslin, nor even the lady of the house : for those brilliant models of the character of intellect which formerly adorned French conversation have gone, never to return, even in Russia; but I found myself in the chosen circle of their friends and disciples, assembled, as it were, in their absence; and I felt as though we were waiting for them, and that they would soon reappear.
I was not in the least prepared for this species of emotion ; of all the surprises of my journey it has been for me the most unexpected.
The lady of the house participated in my astonishment; for she told me of the exclamation she had made the previous evening, on perceiving my name at the bottom of the note I had sent to the governor.
* The Countess de Sabi·an, afterwards Marchioness de Boufflers, who died at Paris in 1S27, aged 78 years.
140 INFLUENCE OF FEENCH LITEItATUEE.
The singularity of the rencontre, in a region where I supposed myself as little known as a Chinese, immediately gave a familiar and friendly tone to the conversation, which became general, without ceasing to be agreeable and easy. There was nothing concerted or affected in the pleasure they seemed to take in seeing me. The surprise had been reciprocal: no one had expected me at Yaroslaf; I had only ^decided to take that route the day before leaving Moscow.
The brother of the governor's wife, a Prince,
writes our language perfectly well. He has published volumes of French verses, and was kind enough to present me with one of his collections. On opening the book, my eyes fell upon this line, full of sentiment; it occurs in a piece entitled
' Les pleurs sont la fontaine cu iiotre ame s'epure.' *
Assuredly, he is fortunate who expresses his idea so well in a foreign language.
All the members of thefamily vied with each
other in doing me the honours of the house and of the city.
My books were loaded with indirect and ingenious praises, and were cited so as to recall to my mind a crowd of details that I had forgotten. The delicate and natural manner in which these quotations were introduced would have pleased me if they had less flattered me. The small number of books which the censorship allows to penetrate so far, remain popular a long time. I may say, not in my own personal praise,
* Tears are the fount that purifies the soul.
COJTVEXT OF THE TRANSFIGURATIOX. 141
but in that of the times in which we live, that in travelling over Europe the only hospitality really worthy of gratitude that I have received has been that which I owe to my writings. They have created for me among strangers a small number of friends, whose kindness, ever new, has in no slight degree contributed to prolong my
