DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.61284#0098
THE PRINCE DE LIGNE
37
for portraits by Rubens and Vandyck. He also invited them to his
country house, where his charming manners and lively wit seem to have
put him, in the opinion of Madame, at least on a level with the Due de
Lauzun.
If she was attracted by the grace and wit of the Prince, he on his side
was impressed by her beauty and intelligence, and from that time onwards
she had no more faithful adherent than this influential cosmopolitan, who,
wherever he went, praised the quality of her paintings and the charms of
her appearance and social gifts.
A remark made by Madame Lebrun apropos of this new friend throws
a strong light on the zeal for pleasure which characterised the “ high life ”
of those days as much as it does the plutocracy of to-day. She tells us
that “ a good many friends of the Prince de Ligne sometimes left Brussels
after breakfast, arrived at the Opera in Paris just as the curtain went up,
and, after the representation, returned at once to Brussels, travelling
all night” ; and “that is what they call loving the Opera!” she adds.
Evidently the road from “the little Paris” to the big one was better than
the English roads of that period. The distance from Brussels to Paris in
a bee line (or a crow line, whichever is straighter) is at least 160 miles,
so that if the opera-goers travelled at an average speed of twelve miles
an hour they would have taken from seven in the morning till eight in
the evening to cover the distance. The descendants of these music-lovers
find their big motor-cars preferable to their great-grandmothers’ chaises
for such one-day trips to Paris, about the nearest equivalents to which
in these days are such excursions as village choirs in the Eastern Counties
take to Blackpool and back “ in one day.”
On leaving the Flemish capital and its social delights, the Lebruns
made a tour in Holland, and Madame was particularly struck by the good
looks of the women of the North, and by their extreme shyness of strangers,
which caused them to run away as soon as a traveller came in sight.
At Amsterdam, one of the pictures by Van der Heist (whom she calls
“ Wanols,” in her easy manner with names) at the Hotel de Ville evidently
gave her more pleasure than all the Rembrandts. “I don’t believe,” she
says, “ that there is a more beautiful or truer painting in existence. It is
nature itself. The burgomasters are dressed in black; the heads, the hands,
the draperies, all are inimitably beautiful: these men live—one believes
oneself in their presence. I am certain that picture is the finest of its kind;
I could with difficulty leave it, and the impression it made on me renders
37
for portraits by Rubens and Vandyck. He also invited them to his
country house, where his charming manners and lively wit seem to have
put him, in the opinion of Madame, at least on a level with the Due de
Lauzun.
If she was attracted by the grace and wit of the Prince, he on his side
was impressed by her beauty and intelligence, and from that time onwards
she had no more faithful adherent than this influential cosmopolitan, who,
wherever he went, praised the quality of her paintings and the charms of
her appearance and social gifts.
A remark made by Madame Lebrun apropos of this new friend throws
a strong light on the zeal for pleasure which characterised the “ high life ”
of those days as much as it does the plutocracy of to-day. She tells us
that “ a good many friends of the Prince de Ligne sometimes left Brussels
after breakfast, arrived at the Opera in Paris just as the curtain went up,
and, after the representation, returned at once to Brussels, travelling
all night” ; and “that is what they call loving the Opera!” she adds.
Evidently the road from “the little Paris” to the big one was better than
the English roads of that period. The distance from Brussels to Paris in
a bee line (or a crow line, whichever is straighter) is at least 160 miles,
so that if the opera-goers travelled at an average speed of twelve miles
an hour they would have taken from seven in the morning till eight in
the evening to cover the distance. The descendants of these music-lovers
find their big motor-cars preferable to their great-grandmothers’ chaises
for such one-day trips to Paris, about the nearest equivalents to which
in these days are such excursions as village choirs in the Eastern Counties
take to Blackpool and back “ in one day.”
On leaving the Flemish capital and its social delights, the Lebruns
made a tour in Holland, and Madame was particularly struck by the good
looks of the women of the North, and by their extreme shyness of strangers,
which caused them to run away as soon as a traveller came in sight.
At Amsterdam, one of the pictures by Van der Heist (whom she calls
“ Wanols,” in her easy manner with names) at the Hotel de Ville evidently
gave her more pleasure than all the Rembrandts. “I don’t believe,” she
says, “ that there is a more beautiful or truer painting in existence. It is
nature itself. The burgomasters are dressed in black; the heads, the hands,
the draperies, all are inimitably beautiful: these men live—one believes
oneself in their presence. I am certain that picture is the finest of its kind;
I could with difficulty leave it, and the impression it made on me renders