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Gates of our Enemies, 356.
Gladstone, Mr., on the Reformation,
Maliba, 46, 107, 198, 266, 348.
Nassau, N. P., Bahamas, 447.
Note on the Archæology of Dorset-
Notices to Correspondents, 80, 160,
240, 320, 400, 480.
The Name which is above every name,
Transfiguration, the, 98.
Willis' Sacrificial Aspect of the Holy
[Françoise Krasinska was a Polish lady who was married to the son of Augustus III., Elector of Saxony, and King of Poland; her biography, as we now offer it to our readers in an excellent translation, was first published in the Polish language in the beginning of the eighteenth century, and was preserved in an old library in Poland, from whence it was obtained by our translator. It was at first supposed to have been simply the private journal of the Princess, but there is now reason to believe it was compiled by a lady who lived as governess in her family; as an account of her life, however, it is strictly true in every fact and detail.-ED. C. C.]
Castle of Maleszów, Monday, January 1st, 1759. It is exactly a week since Christmas Day, and my father has just given orders for a large volume to be placed before him, in which he writes with his own hands various events, both public and private. This book is a pellmell of speeches, manifestoes, letters, verses, conundrums, all dated according to the time of their insertion. Almost all Polish gentlemen have the habit of keeping these common-place books. My father from time to time shows us some of these extracts and others he reads aloud to us. Now as I write both French and Polish fairly well, I see no reason why I should not try to keep a journal. I hear that it is customary with many French women to do so. I have already made a good-sized thick book, and I am quite determined that I will fill it. I intend to put down all my thoughts just as they occur, and I mean to write everything that concerns both me and my family also, except
ing when I consider it unnecessary to do so. I shall not omit matters of public interest. My father is almost exclusively occupied with these latter, but then he is a serious-minded man, and I an ignorant young girl who can only write according to my limited understanding, so I must relate everything as simply as possible.
Here we are at the commencement of the new year, so it is an excellent opportunity of beginning my journal, and in this Castle I shall have plenty of time. To-day we have already had morning prayers, and during vespers I can finish my devotional reading. It is striking ten o'clock, my hair is dressed and so am I, and there are yet
two hours before dinner time. This morning I shall write my own reflections and speak of my family, of our house, and of the Republic, and then for the future I shall write by degrees every passing event just as it occurs.
I was born in 1743, so I am now sixteen, my Christian name is Françoise. I am tall and have often been told that I am very pretty, and really when I look in the glass I do not see much to find fault with. For this my mother says I ought to feel gratitude to GOD, but no vanity, for it is His work and not mine. My eyes and hair are black, my skin fair, and my cheeks pink, but that does not satisfy me, I wish so much that I was taller. It is true that I am slight and well made, but I know many women who are taller, and I always envy them when I hear any one remark that I have attained my full growth. I belong to a very old family of very noble descent. My ancestors are the Corvins-Krasinski. GOD grant that I may never by any unworthy action stain their illustrious name; I should like to be able to render it still more glorious. Sometimes I am sorry that I am not a man, for then I might have achieved some brilliant deed. My father and mother are so fully persuaded of the excellence of their origin, that we and all our neighbours know the genealogy of our family by heart, though to my shame I confess that I know that of our kings far better.
But how about my journal, is it going to live or die? I really don't see why it should not be transmitted to future generations like so many memoirs that have been written in France. I must really give my mind to it, but it is a thousand pities that I do not possess the talent of a Mme. de Sevigné, or a Mme. de Motteville. Perhaps I could write it better in French, but no, that would be unworthy of a good Pole, and as I live in Poland I must write in the national tongue, yet the French language is very generally used, but then it is a fashion, and
like all other fashions may soon pass away, and then alas! for my memoirs. If these leaves escape being gnawed by rats, or used as waste paper, and fall into the hands of some one good enough to peruse them, may they pardon my ignorance on many points and kindly remember that I am writing without method and without knowing the prescribed rules of a journal. I am scarcely sixteen and these great small things which pre-occupy me so much now, will appear very trifling and very unworthy of any attention. All these fantastic ideas which clash in my head, all these dreams which my imagination creates, what will they appear to a sensible reader?
But let us return to the genealogy of my family. (After this digression comes the chronological enumeration of the Krasinski family, which, as it can have, no general interest, is omitted. Françoise Krasinski continues thus :) Stanislas Krasinski,1 Staroste of Novemiasto of Prasuysz and of Uyscie, is my father; Angelique Humiecka, daughter of the celebrated Palatine2 of Podolia, is my mother, but this branch of the Krasinski will become extinct with us, for to my great regret I have no brother, we are four sisters, Barbe, myself, Sophie, and Marie. The ladies and gentlemen belonging to our Court often say that 1 am the prettiest, but I really do not think that is the case. We have all four been brought up very carefully, and have received an education suitable for people of position and Starostines. We are well grown and have been taught to hold ourselves as upright as reeds, we have excellent health and fair fresh rosy complexions. We have a governess who takes care of us, whom we call " Madame," she dresses us, and when she has finished lacing our stays, four fingers might, so to say, clasp our waists. Madame has taught us to curtsey with ease, and to behave with suitable propriety in the drawing-room. We sit on the edges of our chairs, our eyes fixed on the ground and our arms prettily crossed: every one concludes that we are simpletons, and that we could not even count up to three, they also think that we scarcely know how to walk and that we always behave like nuns; I wonder what they would say if they saw us running and jumping about on fine mornings. Ah! we manage to compensate ourselves then for the restraint we undergo at other times. It is a positive fête for us when our parents allow us to have a walk in
1 A staroste was the governor of a fortified castle.
2 At the time this journal was written the position of a Palatine was a very important one, as the king conferred with the appointment large provinces which the Palatines governed and of which they enjoyed the revenues.
the woods, then we go without stays, without curls, without our highheeled shoes, and in our deshabille, we run like wild creatures and climb the mountains while poor Madame tries in vain to follow us, for she loses her breath, her legs will not carry her, and she can neither reach nor restrain us.
My two young sisters and I have never yet been any distance from the Castle, our longest journey has not extended beyond a visit to our aunt, the Palatine Malachowska, who lives at Koniskie or the borough of Piotrkowice which belongs to us. My father when he returned from his journey to Italy built a beautiful chapel in the borough in imitation of Notre Dame de Lorette, he has also built a chapel at Lissow, our parish, which is a dependancy of Maleszów, and these have been the limits of our travels. With my eldest sister it has been otherwise, she seems to have travelled almost to the end of the world, for she has twice made a journey to Opole to stay with my aunt, the Princess Lubomirska, the Palatine of Lublin. My father has a tender affection for my aunt, who is his sister, and he respects her as if she were his mother. Barbe has spent a year in Warsaw, in the Convent of the young ladies "du Saint Sacrement," and so she knows a great deal more than we do. She makes her curtseys to perfection and holds herself admirably straight; her manners please every one. I know that my parents intend to send me to school, and every moment I expect the arrival of the carriage which is to take me to Warsaw or Cracow. I shall be sorry to leave the Castle where I am so happy, but yet my sister Barbe was quite contented during her stay at the Convent, and I dare say I shall be the same. In the meantime I must perfect myself in the French language. I am told that is indispensable for a woman of position, I must also attain perfection in the minuet and in music, then I shall see a large town and I shall at least have something to look back upon.
As I have never yet been able to judge by comparison it is impossible for me to know if our Castle of Maleszów is really beautiful, I know that I think it so, but some people say it is gloomy; it is large and comfortable and has four stories and four towers, and it is surrounded by moats filled with flowing water, it has a drawbridge and is prettily situated in a well wooded and mountainous country. I do not know how any one can call this Castle gloomy! My parents complain, and do not think their dwelling large enough, and that perhaps is true, for we are a numerous party. I said that the Castle has four stories, and each story is divided thus: a large hall, then six rooms, and four smaller