Passage through Poland.
I arrived in the beginning of July at the chief town of the circle,
in which Lanzut is situated; my carriage stopped before the
posthouse, and my son went, as usual, to have my passport examined.
I was astonished, at the end of a quarter of an hour, not to see him
return, and I requested M. Schlegel to go and ascertain the cause of
his delay. They both came back immediately, followed by a man whose
countenance I shall never, during my life, forget: an affected
smile, upon the most stupid features, gave the most disagreeable
expression to his countenance. My son, almost beside himself,
informed me that the captain of the circle had declared to him that
I could not remain more than eight hours at Lanzut, and that to
secure my obedience to this order, one of his commissaries should
follow me to the castle, should enter into it with me, and should
not quit me until I had left it. My son had represented to this
captain, that overcome as I was with fatigue, I required more than
eight hours to repose myself, and that the sight of a commissary of
police, in my weak state, might give me a very fatal shock. To all
these representations the captain replied with a brutality which is
quite peculiar to German subalterns; nowhere also do you meet with
that obsequious respect for power which immediately succeeds to
arrogance towards the weak. The mental movements of these men
resemble the evolutions of a review day; they make a half turn to
the right, and a half turn to the left, according to the word of
command which is given to them.
The commissary intrusted with the inspection of me, fatigued himself
in bowing to the very ground, but would not in the least modify his
charge. He got into a caleche, the horses of which followed me so
close that they touched the hind wheels of my berline. The idea of
entering, escorted in this manner, into the residence of an old
friend, into a paradise of delight, where I had been feasting my
ideas by anticipation, with spending several days; this idea I say
made me so ill, that I could not get the better of it; joined to
that also was, I believe, the irritation of finding at my heels this
insolent spy, a very fit subject, certainly, to outwit, if I had had
the desire, but who did his duty with an intolerable mixture of
pedantry and rigor*: I was seized with a nervous attack in the
middle of the road, and they were obliged to lift me out of my
carriage, and lay me down on the side of the ditch. This wretched
commissary fancied that this was an occasion to take compassion on
me, and without getting out of his carriage himself, he sent his
servant to find me a glass of water. I cannot express how angry I
felt with myself for the weakness of my nerves; the compassion of
this man was a last insult, which I would at least have wished to
spare myself. He set off again at the same time that I did, and I
made my entry, along with him, into the court yard of the castle of
Lanzut. Prince Henry, not in the least suspecting any thing of the
kind, came to meet me with the most amiable gaiety; he was at first
frightened at the paleness of my looks, but when I told him, which I
did immediately, what sort of guest I had brought with me, from that
moment his coolness, firmness, and friendship for me did not belie
themselves for a moment. But can one conceive a state of things in
which a commissary of police should plant himself at the table of a
great nobleman like prince Henry, or rather at that of any person
whatever, without his consent?
(Note of the Editor)
* To explain how strong and well-founded was the anguish which my
mother experienced at this point of her journey, I ought to mention
that the attention of the Austrian police was not then confined to
her only. The description of M. Rocca had been sent all along the
road, with an order to arrest him in quality of his being a French
officer; and although he had resigned his commission, and his wounds
had incapacitated him from continuing his military service, there is
no doubt, that if he had been delivered up to France, the forfeiture
of his life would have been the consequence. He had therefore
travelled alone, and under a borrowed name, and it was at Lanzut
that he had given my mother the rendezvous. Having arrived there
before her, and not in the least suspecting that she would be
escorted by a commissary of police, he came out to meet her, full of
joy and confidence. The danger to which he was thus, insensibly,
exposing himself, transfixed my mother with terror, and she had
barely time to give him a signal to return back; and had it not been
for the generous presence of mind of a Polish gentleman, who
supplied M. Rocca with the means of escaping, he would infallibly
have been recognized and arrested by the commissary. Ignorant of
what might be the fate of her manuscript, under what circumstances,
public or private, she might ever publish it, my mother felt herself
under the necessity of entirely suppressing these details, to which
I am at present allowed to give publicity.
(End of Note of the Editor.)
After supper this commissary came up to my son, and said to him,
with that coaxing tone of voice which I particularly dislike, when
it is used to say cutting words, "I ought, according to my orders,
to pass the night in your mother's apartment, in order to be certain
that she has no communication with any one; but from regard to her,
I will not do it." "You may add also," said my son, "from regard to
yourself, for if you should dare to put your foot in my mother's
apartment during the night, I will throw you out of the window."
"Ah! Monsieur le Baron," replied the commissary, bowing lower than
usual, because this threat had a false air of power which did not
fail to affect him. He went to lay down, and the next day at
breakfast, the prince's secretary managed him so well, by giving him
plenty to eat and drink, that I might, I believe, have remained
several hours longer, but I was ashamed at having been the occasion
of such a scene in the house of my amiable host. I did not even
allow myself time to examine those beautiful gardens, which remind
us of the southern climate whose productions they offer, nor that
house, which has been the asylum of persecuted French emigrants, and
where the artists have sent the tribute of their talents in return
for the services rendered them by the lady of the castle. The
contrast between such delightful and striking impressions and the
grief and indignation I felt, was intolerable; the recollection of
Lanzut, which I have so many reasons for loving, even now makes me
shudder, when I think of it.
I took my departure then from this residence, shedding bitter tears,
and not knowing what else was in store for me during the fifty
leagues I had yet to travel in the Austrian territory. The
commissary accompanied me to the borders of his circle, and when he
took his leave, asked me if I was satisfied with him; the stupidity
of the fellow quite disarmed my resentment. A peculiar feature in
all this persecution, which formerly never entered into the
character of the Austrian government, is, that it is executed by its
agents with as much rudeness as awkwardness: these ci-devant honest
people carry into the base commissions with which they are entrusted
the same scrupulous exactness that they formerly did into the good
ones, and their limited conception of this new method of government,
which was not known to them, makes them commit a hundred blunders,
either from want of skill or clumsiness. It is like taking the club
of Hercules to kill a fly, and during this useless exertion the most
important matters may escape them.
On leaving the circle of Lanzut, I still found as far as Leopol, the
capital of Gallicia, grenadiers placed from post to post to make
sure of my progress. I should have felt regret at making these brave
fellows thus lose their time, had it not been for the thought that
they were much better there, than with the unfortunate army
delivered by Austria to Napoleon. On arriving at Leopol, I found
again ancient Austria in the governor and commandant of the
province, who both received me with the greatest politeness, and
gave me, what I wished above every thing, an order for passing from
Austria into Russia. Such was the end of my residence in this
monarchy, which I had formerly seen powerful, just and upright. Her
alliance with Napoleon while it lasted, degraded her to the lowest
rank among nations. History will doubtless not forget that she has
shown herself very warlike in her long wars against France, and that
her last effort to resist Bonaparte was inspired by a national
enthusiasm worthy of all praise; but the sovereign of this country,
by yielding to his counsellors rather than to his own character, has
destroyed for ever that enthusiasm, by checking its ebullition. The
unfortunate men who perished on the plains of Essling and Wagram,
that there might still be an Austrian monarchy and a German people,
could have hardly expected that their companions in arms would be
fighting three years afterwards for the extension of Bonaparte's
empire to the borders of Asia, and that there might not be in the
whole of Europe, even a desert, where the objects of his
proscription, from kings to subjects, might find an asylum; for such
is the object, and the sole object, of the war excited by France
against Russia.