the city of liege described.—affecting story of mademoiselle de tournon.—fatal effects of suppressed anguish of mind.

the bishop of liege, who is the sovereign of the city and province, received me with all the cordiality and respect that could be expected from a personage of his dignity and great accomplishments. he was, indeed, a nobleman endowed with singular prudence and virtue, agreeable in his person and conversation, gracious and magnificent in his carriage and behaviour, to which i may add that he spoke the french language perfectly.

he was constantly attended by his chapter, with several of his canons, who are all sons of dukes, counts, or great german lords. the bishopric is itself a sovereign state, which brings in a considerable revenue, and includes a number of fine cities. the bishop is chosen from amongst the canons, who must be of noble descent, and resident one year. the city is larger than lyons, and much resembles it, having the meuse running through it. the houses in which the canons reside have the appearance of noble palaces.

the streets of the city are regular and spacious, the houses of the citizens well built, the squares large, and ornamented with curious fountains. the churches appear as if raised entirely of marble, of which there are considerable quarries in the neighbourhood; they are all of them ornamented with beautiful clocks, and exhibit a variety of moving figures.

the bishop received me as i landed from the boat, and conducted me to his magnificent residence, ornamented with delicious fountains and gardens, set off with galleries, all painted, superbly gilt, and enriched with marble, beyond description.

the spring which affords the waters of spa being distant no more than three or four leagues from the city of liege, and there being only a village, consisting of three or four small houses, on the spot, the princesse de roche-sur-yon was advised by her physicians to stay at liege and have the waters brought to her, which they assured her would have equal efficacy, if taken after sunset and before sunrise, as if drunk at the spring. i was well pleased that she resolved to follow the advice of the doctors, as we were more comfortably lodged and had an agreeable society; for, besides his grace (so the bishop is styled, as a king is addressed his majesty, and a prince his highness), the news of my arrival being spread about, many lords and ladies came from germany to visit me. amongst these was the countess d’aremberg, who had the honour to accompany queen elizabeth to mezieres, to which place she came to marry king charles my brother, a lady very high in the estimation of the empress, the emperor, and all the princes in christendom. with her came her sister the landgravine, madame d’aremberg her daughter, m. d’aremberg her son, a gallant and accomplished nobleman, the perfect image of his father, who brought the spanish succours to king charles my brother, and returned with great honour and additional reputation. this meeting, so honourable to me, and so much to my satisfaction, was damped by the grief and concern occasioned by the loss of mademoiselle de tournon, whose story, being of a singular nature, i shall now relate to you, agreeably to the promise i made in my last letter.

i must begin with observing to you that madame de tournon, at this time lady of my bedchamber, had several daughters, the eldest of whom married m. de balencon, governor, for the king of spain, in the county of burgundy. this daughter, upon her marriage, had solicited her mother to admit of her taking her sister, the young lady whose story i am now about to relate, to live with her, as she was going to a country strange to her, and wherein she had no relations. to this her mother consented; and the young lady, being universally admired for her modesty and graceful accomplishments, for which she certainly deserved admiration, attracted the notice of the marquis de varenbon. the marquis, as i before mentioned, is the brother of m. de balencon, and was intended for the church; but, being violently enamoured of mademoiselle de tournon (whom, as he lived in the same house, he had frequent opportunities of seeing), he now begged his brother’s permission to marry her, not having yet taken orders. the young lady’s family, to whom he had likewise communicated his wish, readily gave their consent, but his brother refused his, strongly advising him to change his resolution and put on the gown.

thus were matters situated when her mother, madame de tournon, a virtuous and pious lady, thinking she had cause to be offended, ordered her daughter to leave the house of her sister, madame de balencon, and come to her. the mother, a woman of a violent spirit, not considering that her daughter was grown up and merited a mild treatment, was continually scolding the poor young lady, so that she was for ever with tears in her eyes. still, there was nothing to blame in the young girl’s conduct, but such was the severity of the mother’s disposition. the daughter, as you may well suppose, wished to be from under the mother’s tyrannical government, and was accordingly delighted with the thoughts of attending me in this journey to flanders, hoping, as it happened, that she should meet the marquis de varenbon somewhere on the road, and that, as he had now abandoned all thoughts of the church, he would renew his proposal of marriage, and take her from her mother.

i have before mentioned that the marquis de varenbon and the younger balencon joined us at namur. young balencon, who was far from being so agreeable as his brother, addressed himself to the young lady, but the marquis, during the whole time we stayed at namur, paid not the least attention to her, and seemed as if he had never been acquainted with her.

the resentment, grief, and disappointment occasioned by a behaviour so slighting and unnatural was necessarily stifled in her breast, as decorum and her sex’s pride obliged her to appear as if she disregarded it; but when, after taking leave, all of them left the boat, the anguish of her mind, which she had hitherto suppressed, could no longer be restrained, and, labouring for vent, it stopped her respiration, and forced from her those lamentable outcries which i have already spoken of. her youth combated for eight days with this uncommon disorder, but at the expiration of that time she died, to the great grief of her mother, as well as myself. i say of her mother, for, though she was so rigidly severe over this daughter, she tenderly loved her.

the funeral of this unfortunate young lady was solemnised with all proper ceremonies, and conducted in the most honourable manner, as she was descended from a great family, allied to the queen my mother. when the day of interment arrived, four of my gentlemen were appointed bearers, one of whom was named la boessiere. this man had entertained a secret passion for her, which he never durst declare on account of the inferiority of his family and station. he was now destined to bear the remains of her, dead, for whom he had long been dying, and was now as near dying for her loss as he had before been for her love. the melancholy procession was marching slowly, along, when it was met by the marquis de varenbon, who had been the sole occasion of it. we had not left namur long when the marquis reflected upon his cruel behaviour towards this unhappy young lady; and his passion (wonderful to relate) being revived by the absence of her who inspired it, though scarcely alive while she was present, he had resolved to come and ask her of her mother in marriage. he made no doubt, perhaps, of success, as he seldom failed in enterprises of love; witness the great lady he has since obtained for a wife, in opposition to the will of her family. he might, besides, have flattered himself that he should easily have gained a pardon from her by whom he was beloved, according to the italian proverb, “che la forza d’amore non riguarda al delitto” (lovers are not criminal in the estimation of one another). accordingly, the marquis solicited don john to be despatched to me on some errand, and arrived, as i said before, at the very instant the corpse of this ill-fated young lady was being borne to the grave. he was stopped by the crowd occasioned by this solemn procession. he contemplates it for some time. he observes a long train of persons in mourning, and remarks the coffin to be covered with a white pall, and that there are chaplets of flowers laid upon the coffin. he inquires whose funeral it is. the answer he receives is, that it is the funeral of a young lady. unfortunately for him, this reply fails to satisfy his curiosity. he makes up to one who led the procession, and eagerly asks the name of the young lady they are proceeding to bury. when, oh, fatal answer! love, willing to avenge the victim of his ingratitude and neglect, suggests a reply which had nearly deprived him of life. he no sooner hears the name of mademoiselle de tournon pronounced than he falls from his horse in a swoon. he is taken up for dead, and conveyed to the nearest house, where he lies for a time insensible; his soul, no doubt, leaving his body to obtain pardon from her whom he had hastened to a premature grave, to return to taste the bitterness of death a second time.

having performed the last offices to the remains of this poor young lady, i was unwilling to discompose the gaiety of the society assembled here on my account by any show of grief. accordingly, i joined the bishop, or, as he is called, his grace, and his canons, in their entertainments at different houses, and in gardens, of which the city and its neighbourhood afforded a variety. i was every morning attended by a numerous company to the garden, in which i drank the waters, the exercise of walking being recommended to be used with them. as the physician who advised me to take them was my own brother, they did not fail of their effect with me; and for these six or seven years which are gone over my head since i drank them, i have been free from any complaint of erysipelas on my arm. from this garden we usually proceeded to the place where we were invited to dinner. after dinner we were amused with a ball; from the ball we went to some convent, where we heard vespers; from vespers to supper, and that over, we had another ball, or music on the river.