So much of the pleasure of history lies in discovering the little details of lost lives! In the case of King Stanislas we are fortunate to be able to profit from the thoroughly researched and stylishly presented accounts of the early 20th-century Lorraine scholar Pierre Boyé. The following evocation of Stanislas's daily routine is translated/abridged from an article of his, which first appeared in Le Pays lorrain for 1932.
Reference
Pierre Boyé, "La journée du roi Stanislas", Le Pays lorrain: revue régionale bi-mensuelle illustrée, 1st January 1932, p.97-120.
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| Attributed to Nicolas de Mirbeck, Stanislaw smoking his pipe. First half of the 19th c. Musée lorrain. http://journaldedurival.fr/html/galerie.html |
Early morning routines
Let us allow ourselves to be transported into the the bedchamber of the King, whose apartments at Lunéville occupy the wing of the château overlooking the Parc des Bosquets. The windows are the third and fourth from the north-east corner of the building, on the ground floor. There is a view, beyond the terrace, of the valley of the river Vezouze and of the hills of Jolivet. It is not yet five o'clock in the morning in summer, six o'clock in winter, when the prince rises. Having said his prayers, he drinks a simple cup of tea or his preferred bouillon-blanc... Now he is smoking his pipe.
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| King Stanislas's German pipe Musée lorrain. (image from Facebook) |
The Premier Valet de chambre, with three to five assistant valets, helps the prince with his toilette. Stanislaw has an official perruquier, but he shaves himself. It is only late in life that he takes on a barber, Joseph Mensiaux, who is the brother of the artists Nicolas and Louis Mensiaux. After Stanislaw's death, this same man will become librarian to the King's granddaughter, Madame Sophie.
Once dressed, the King deals with his correspondence, which is considerable. At least three times a week he writes to his daughter, his "dear-heart" as he calls her, his Maruchna, his Marynska, Mareczka etc. - the letters are charming for their idiosyncratic orthography and excessive expressions of affection. He writes to his grandchildren. He even writes to his great-grandchildren; for, by the end of his life, the future Louis XVI, Louis XVIII and Charles X, are already penning naive missives to their great-grandsire. He writes also to Jacques Hulin, his minister at the Court of France, whom he charges with the most diverse array of commissions; to official agents, kings, statesmen, and to the many people he has encountered in his adventures, his friends and familiars. He frequently writes to Poland, where he hopes to maintain the problematic fidelity of former partisans.
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| One of several autograph letters by Stanislaw, currently offered for sale on the internet |
For all but the most personal or secret letters, his secretary Pierre-Joseph de Solignac gives him assistance. His position is no sinecure since, in addition to writing out the letters, he must revise the style, even amend the ideas expressed by his master. At New Year, in particular, the task is overwhelming. On 22nd January 1757 Solignac apologises to a personal correspondent for his neglect: over the past month, Stanislaw had received greetings from all over the world, all of which required immediate answers - almost five hundred letters in total.
Following this, the Royal Steward updates the King on matters concerning the Household. Stanislaw will also confer with the Chancellor, particularly if there is a Council meeting scheduled, for he regularly attends these sessions - Council of State on Fridays, Finance Council on Saturdays.
He grants audiences. Anyone who encounters him for the first time cannot help but admire his imposing presence. He is of medium height and well built though, after his arrival at Lorraine, with a marked tendency to stoutness. He has brown hair and deep blue eyes; a high colour; a voice which is sonorous, piercing even when he speaks loudly. His welcome is warm and unpretentious and, although he has submitted to the strict protocol of Versailles, without the slightest hint of ceremony. However, the perceptive interlocutor will soon realise that this simplicity, this bonhomie, is more apparent than real. The King has a high opinion of himself. He likes praise, barely disguised flattery. He hardly tolerates even the slightest contradiction. He wants to be deferred to in everything and instantly obeyed. He has terrible temper tantrums, which are feared by those around him.
On one occasion the Chancellor - a man whom Stanislaw not only admires but fears - has the temerity to disapprove openly of one of his projects. The comte de Tressan, the Grand Marshall, reports to the comte d'Argenson that the King has never been in such a temper. He threatens La Galaizière in such extreme language that the latter is reduced to kneeling before him to beg forgiveness. Moreover, in the course of the conflicts provoked by certain financial edicts, Stanislaw becomes so exasperated that his clothing has to be quickly loosened for fear of apoplexy.
He has never been in a greater paroxysm of fury than in 1761 when the Sovereign Court condemned a pamphlet attributed to Father Menoux, the superior of the Missions of Nancy, leading the crowd to believe that the Jesuit himself was about to be executed. (Voltaire quipped behind the King's back that Menoux had been condemned to the galleys, which was curious given the lack of seaports in Lorraine - surely he would find it difficult to row?)
The King of Poland is jolly, even jovial, his laugh over-loud and his jokes a little heavy-handed. Sometimes he can seem malicious, even thoughtlessly cruel. On one occasion, when he was taking a carriage from the château to the Capuchin convent, he amused himself by sitting on the lap of one of his officers, weighting the wretched man down for the whole journey. He could also be unpredictable and capricious. He would suddenly snub one of his intimates without reason and fail to address a word to them for days on end.
Let us not forget that he is a Slav (writes Pierre Boyé!). He has the Slav's sense of imagination, his capacity for adaptation and assimilation. But he also had the Slav's impulsive nature, mobile mind, and a certain propensity for fantasy...
At Chapel
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| Postcard of the chapel, early 20c. |
This is indeed a pious prince. But his piety is demonstrative rather than profound. He loves pompous ceremonies, all the exterior show of religious observance. In the little village of Heillecourt, in the parish of La Malgrange, he can be seen carrying the dais with his seigneurs. He is particularly devoted to Notre-Dame de Bon-Secours, the Virgin of Nancy. He celebrates all her feast days, as he once did those of the miraculous Virgins of Poland...
If he observes all the fasts, if he abstains from all solid food during Holy Week, his religion does not curb his personal weaknesses. Nor does he show much concern for the dignity of his chapel. At the end of his reign, his choice of chaplains is deplorable: Miaskowski, one of his relatives, is a crass ignoramus who does not even know Latin. The abbé Porquet says mass so hastily in order to return to his pleasures, that Cardinal Choiseul will forbid him to officiate; it is rumoured that Stanislas has given him a deadline of two months to start believing in God. His colleague, the abbé Moreau, the son of one of Leszczynski's valets de chambre, does not even trouble to hide his atheism; during the Revolution, he will openly boast of his misdeeds.
In addition Stanislas disposes of ecclesiastical benefices with gay abandon, distributing prebendaries without account of merits or age....
At table
From the chapel, Stanislas passes directly into his dining room, for by this time he is always ravenously hungry - so much so that, for days on end, he progressively makes the masses earlier. His Chancellor quips: "Sire, if you continue like this, you will end up dining the night before."
The King's table, reserved for the great officials of state, dames d'honneur and privileged guests, initially has sixteen places. Later it boasts twenty-five. The tableware and cutlery is extensive. During the French financial crisis of 1759, Leszczynski shows his solidarity by sending no less than 459 kilograms of plate to the mint in Metz. At his death the remainder is estimated to be worth 200,000 livres tournois. In his wandering life, he has not been able to accumulate much by way of the goldsmith's art. But his table is graced by multiple groups and figurines of Saxe porcelain, delightful ceramic statuettes by Cyfflé, works in lead, centrepieces of glass, to say nothing of amusing miniature fountains and hydraulic novelties.
_-_Mus%C3%A9e_lorrain_-_Palais_ducal_-_Surtout_de_table__L%C3%A9da_et_le_cygne__(d'apr%C3%A8s_Paul-Louis_Cyffl%C3%A9,_1724-1806)_(47154055881).jpg) |
| Surtout de table after Paul-Louis Cyfflé, Musée lorrain (Wikimedia) |
During the meal, the royal orchestra always plays, except on Fridays when a little lute or harp music suffices. Even in Lent, when the Court is in mourning, trumpets and timbales herald the courses. They are a little too loud for sensitive ears: Montesquieu complains privately to Solignac of the "charivari du réfectoire"... The women are more offended that the bodyguards appear in their boots: Madame du Châtelet observes wrily that her host believes he is still at the barracks in Bender.
It goes without saying that Stanislaw has a preference for Polish dishes. His menus contains lots of poultry and game, including birds from his pheasant farm at Vitrimont and the rare Podovana chickens - "poules de Padoue" - said to have been named by Madame de Pompadour herself. There are enormous meat pies - large enough for the dwarf Bébé to conceal himself in the crusts and burst forth to the surprise of the guests...
Like Louis XIV, Stanislaw enjoys crudités and, like Henry IV, he adores melons. A skilful grower ensures that they ripen well. But, like Henry IV too, he pays the price for his immoderate consumption of fruit; Marie Leszczynska reports to the President Hénault that her father suffered indigestion, having eating melon, gherkins, blanc-manger jelly and,"on top of all that", strawberries.
For desert, there is often a baba, the indispensable Polish gâteau, of which there are twenty different types, some as much as a metre high. Like all Slavs, Stanislaw has a great fondness for sweet things and in his château the delights of the confectioner's art - creams, jellies, syrups, liqueurs etc. - are not to be neglected. As Stanislaw's sweet tooth increases with age, this department of La Bouche grows in importance, to the point where it requires an intendant, a chef, six assistants and two kitchen boys. The confectioner François Richard, brought from Chambord, understands perfectly the preferences of his master and the delicate requirements of his table. He trains up worthy emulators and successors: Gilliers, author of the Cannamélite français, François Ney, and Jean-Baptiste Lazowski (who is remembered today less for his dexterity with cakes and sorbets than for his famous sons - Maximilien, the agriculturalist, Félix, the general and Claude, the militant Revolutionary).
Though he is a great eater, Stanislaw does not linger at table. Dinner never lasts more than an hour and, in his defence, he does not eat again the same day. No meal is provided in the evening, at least not at the prince's expense. Voltaire, who had a good memory for his comforts, remarked twenty-five years after his visit, that a reference to"Epicure-Stanislaw"was inapt: "Stanislaw would certainly have been astonished to hear himself called Epicurus, when he never gave anyone supper". Montesquieu, in contrast, pronounced himself well pleased to avoid "les coupe-gorge des soupers de Paris". We may conclude that , unlike his great-grandson Louis XVIII, who inherited both his precocious stoutness and his malicious humour, Stanislaw was not a great gourmet, or even a really greedy man...
To answer the inevitable question - no, Leszczynski does not disdain good wines. He particularly values Hungarian vintages; even in the bad times in Alsace, when he had only bread to eat and his daughter lacked chemises, he still had a few bottles in reserve. In 1727, when her marriage was being negotiated, when she was about to become Queen of France, Stanislaw could think of nothing better than this wine to gain the favour of Mme de Prie, the duc de Bourbon's all-powerful mistress. As he explained to the bearer of the gift, it was his last drop, but the good quality could make up for the lack of quantity. At Lunéville the King would restock his cellars and often, no doubt, shared a few flagons with his cousin Ossolinski, fellow admirer of the divine Tokai. However, it is wrong to accuse the old man of a weakness for drink: his final accident was certainly not, as some have claimed, the result of spontaneous combustion brought about by alcohol.
Afternoon occupations
Leszczynski braves the elements in all weathers. He loves exercise and fresh air. He takes long rides on horseback or in his carriage. It is only by being out-of-doors that he finds relief for his colds and catarrh. As a fervent disciple of Saint Hubert, whose fête he celebrates each year, Stanislaw tracks wild boar near Einville; he chases stags in the Forêt de Mondon or sometimes, to amuse his guests, in the Park, even on one occasion through the roads, of Lunéville (so the Gazette de Hollande reports in 1738). He will also happily make the long journey to Dieuze in order to fish in the Étang de Lindre. Nothing pleases him more than the gift of a well-breed dog for his hunting pack, which numbers over three hundred hounds, each with its own silver collar.
Self portrait in pastel. Musée du château, Lunéville
See the entry in Neil Jeffare's Dictionary of Pastellists (online)
The King has a bent for mechanics, particularly the improvement of agricultural equipment, though his design for a plough has been superseded by that of Mathieu de Dombasle. He once built a novel carriage with three wheels which was intended to make the journey from Versailles to Commercy. It promptly overturned on the road to Saint-Dizier, almost costing its royal constructor his life...though naturally, it was his clumsy postilion who was at fault.
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| Stanislaw's three-wheeled carriage. Illustration from his Nouvelles découvertes pour l’avantage et l’utilité publiques (1758) Bibliothèque Médiatique de Nancy. |
See: Pascale Debert "Le carrosse à trois roues" Couleur XVIIIe, post of 17.01/2015
https://www.histoiresgalantes.fr/blog/2015/01/17/le-carrosse-a-trois-roues/
Almost equally dangerous was a water joust involving fire which he dreamt up for the entertainment of his courtiers and guests. (At the sight of Stanislaw in his boat, an onlooker remarked obsequiously that the banks of the Meurthe had witnessed the Argo pass into hands more accustomed to hold the helm of empires.) In short, Stanislaw has a passion for novelty, even the most puerile - he wanted to be the first to wear a hat made from thistledown - and is always eager to snatch new discoveries from the hands of their inventors.
Above all, however, he reads, or has himself read to, insatiably. Everything piques his curiosity and, knowing this, authors willingly send him copies of their work. .... On 11th July 1759 Tressan confirms to Voltaire that he and the poet Devaux have taken it in turns to read Voltaire's Histoire universelle to the King.
Leszczyński himself is an author - one who is both eclectic and fertile. Besides his best-known work, on the government of Poland, he has published Le Philosophe chrétien, Le Combat de la volonté et la raison, Réflexions sur divers subjects de morale. His Entretiens d'un Européen avec un insulaire du royaume de Dumocala, lead us, via a series of paradoxes, into the realm of Thomas More - in Lorraine, the generic term is not "utopia", but "histoire dumocalienne". Two more of his treaties deal, in the vein of the abbé Saint-Pierre, with universal peace....
As the frequent victim of adversity and the blows of destiny, Stanislas several times, in the tranquillity of old age, questions himself as to the nature of happiness: Discours sur le bonheur de la vie; Entretien d'un souverain avec son favori sur le bonheur etc. The title of his third discourse affirms that true happiness lies in the welfare of others ("Le vrai bonheur consiste à faire des heureux"), a conviction that this crowned moralist has always endeavoured to put into practice. He has also translated into Polish several works of piety, the Entretiens de l'âme avec Dieu and also Dom Calmet's history of the Old and New Testaments. He enters into an exchange of views with Rousseau, though, having had his say, as he put it, he lets the dispute be.
It should come as no surprise that so many different subjects tempted his pen - indeed the contrary would be astonishing. In his family, on his mother's side, his Jablonowski ancesters, from father to son, have been indefatigable writers and versifiers.
Sometimes, to relax, Leszczynski summons one or other of his many godchildren, the children of his gentlemen and minor officials. Louis Stanislas de Girardin, president of the Legislative Assembly in 1792, recalls in his memoirs, an occasion when, as a five-year old, during a distribution of sweets, he was slapped heartily on the backside by Stanislaw. Years later, engaged in peace negotiations with Austria in Lunéville, he was easily able to find his way to the King's cabinet despite the fact that the palace had been transformed into a barracks. [Journal et souvenirs (1834), vol.1, p.10]
Or perhaps Stanislas will castigate the indocile Bébé, whom he despairs of inculcating with even the simplest notions of morality. He might caresses his dog Griffon, his invariable companion, even in his travels, or maybe tease his monkey, Jacquot.
Evening activities
In a Court where there is no formal evening meal, concerts and entertainments start early. The standard of chamber music is excellent. The King himself watches carefully over the recruitment of players: thirty-nine in 1737, sixty-seven at the end of his reign; several of them taken from the music masters of the Cathedral or from the neighbouring princes of the Empire. Among these, mention must be given to the renowned violinist Jean-Baptiste Anet who spent the final eighteen years of his life in Lunéville.
Moving on to the theatre we may mention Claire Lebrun, the friend of Madame de Graffigny, named "la Clarion" after the famous Parisian tragédienne . Having served under Leopold and Francis, this modest child of the ballet lived on in Lunéville, forgotten and unhappy, until her death in 1779, remembered chiefly in a verse addressed on her behalf (by Devaux?) to Marie-Antoinette: Grande Reine, reine je fus, Non pas comme vous jeune et belle...
As well as his troupe of actors - often supplemented by amateurs, Voltaire among them - Stanislas maintained a corps de ballet, for dancers were much appreciated in Poland. His modest means meant only a few stars shone: the little Lolotte Carmasse, later appreciated at the Comédie-Française; her younger sister Marianne Camasse, later the wife of Christian IV de Deux-Ponts and comtesse de Forbach; also the young singer Justine Duronceray, who became Mme Favart. His choreographer Léopold Gardel, from Nancy, later made a successful career as maître de ballet at the Paris Opéra.
When there is neither theatre nor concerts - either in the royal apartments or, in good weather, on the illuminated terraces of the château, Stanislas appears in the great salon d'assemblée among the ladies and gentlemen. Or he visits his cousins, the duchess Ossolinka and her sister the princesse de Talmont, who are often the subject of his impromptu galanterie: he is reported to have once arrived with his entire band of musicians, "Madame, I have come with my comrades to amuse you".
Sometimes, possessive as he is towards those close to him, he will visit Mme de Boufflers, who keeps a wider social circle. Here, among the easygoing marquises, the galants and the society abbés, diversion is in plentiful supply. He will be entertained. But he will also grow bored, and sometimes find himself ill-at-ease. They are serious game players. But the prince - who prefers a bourgeois game of tric trac or a hand of piquet - disapproves of gambling for high stakes. Their displays of subtle wit and complex nuances of conversation are beyond his foreigner's understanding. Besides, Stanislas has sufficient good sense to realise that they lavish their flatteries on him only for the sake of a position, a pension, a prebend... In the end, he will show this group only limited favour. His will is full of bequests to his sincere friends and companions, but he omits the members of this aimable coterie, the Boufflers, Tressans, Saint-Lamberts and their satellites. It is his revenge for all the secret coldness and petty resentments.
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"Le coup de piquet du roi de Pologne". Console table decorated in stucco said to have belonged to Stanislas. Musée lorrain. |
Altogether, it is a relief for the King to find himself once again in the relaxed company of his fellow Poles. These are his true Court, more crude, scarcely more moral than the others, but among them Leszczynski feels at home: he understands all that is said, and his inevitable feelings of nostalgia are appeased.
... And, when he has a chance to give lodging to a writer or renowned savant - Voltaire, Montesquieu, Helvétius, Hénault, Moncrif, Maupertius, Bettinelli - what satisfaction he finds in engaging with them in private conversation!
Of an evening, the King also takes pleasure in the accounts of military campaigns sent to him by retainers, who, have served, at his request, in the armies of Louis XV during two long wars. One such is the journal of the chevalier de Soupire, one of his chamberlains. who took part the ill-fated French expedition to India in 1758. They take him far from Lorraine. Immersed in such tales, what does Stanislas care about the idle chatter of those around him?
By half-past-nine, ten o'clock at the latest, Leszczynski is in bed. That is not to say he is asleep. He talks with one or other of his serants, discusses policy with his intendant or provokes theological dispute between his Swedish Lutheran doctor Rönnow, and his confessor. Finally he turns to the book he must finish reading. Even when the lights are extinguished, he still does not sleep - so many projects run round in his head....
Postscript - the old age of Stanislas
The Stanislas described here is the Stanislas of the first fifteen or sixteen years of his reign. Even at seventy, the King was still capable of out-galloping younger men and dancing a respectable minuet. However, this situation changed suddenly and he rapidly became afflicted with all the infirmities of old age. In 1753 his vision deteriorated to the point where he was soon almost blind. In the Autumn of 1755, when her father visited Versailles, Marie Leszczynska noted sadly that he had difficulty in walking. The following year, he could scarcely stand, and had to be supported by two people. To allow him to still participate in the hunt, a special cart had to be built equipped with a hoist. After that he had to content himself with shooting rabbits at point blank range from the parapet at the end of the Bosquets, to which his hajduks pushed him in a wheelchair. But finally he could not even lift a gun. He still continued to fish on the Grand Canal or the banks of the Vezouze; in a touching piece of trickery, an agile swimmer would contrive from time to time to attach a live fish to his hook.
The loss of his teeth - a mortification which also afflicted the King of Prussia - obliged him to abandon his flute. Deafness followed blindness. "Take pity on an active mind (and those of kings are rarely that)" wrote the comte de Tressan to Voltaire in the summer of 1759, "Pity him for being deprived of the happiness of seeing his works, no longer being able to read, paint or play musical instruments..."
Six years later, Leszczynki had become grossly obese. When he travelled by sedan chair, a team of twelve porters was required... But enormous and clumsy though he was, Stanislas would not stay in one place. The comte de Bercheny, his Grand Écuyer, complained of the ordeal of trips to Versailles, where he was forced, like a dog on a leash, to escort the King everywhere.
Despite his physical disabilities, too, the King of Poland retained his liveliness of spirit. Though often depressed, he still knew how to show gaiety. He did not cease to follow current events with unsatiable curiosity. He continued to embellish his various residences: Chanteheux, Jolivet, Einville, La Malgrange, Commercy, and kept up his former programme of visits. If it had been up to him, he would have hosted a congress in Nancy to put an end to the Seven Years War. He made plans for the future. He continued to compose and versify; and submitted his work to the judgment of the public. He wrote to his daughter in a trembling hand.
On 5th February 1766, at the age of 89, Stanislas died after suffering burns in a terrible accident.
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