At last my Russian passport arrived, and I shall be grateful for it to the end of my life, so great was the pleasure it gave me.  My friends at Vienna had succeeded at the same time in dissipating the malignant influence of those who thought to please France by tormenting me.  This time I flattered myself with being entirely sheltered from any farther trouble; but I forgot that the circular order to the captains of the circles to keep me under inspection, was not yet revoked, and that it was only direct from the ministry that I had the promise of having these ridiculous torments put an end to.  I thought, however, that I might venture to follow my first plan, and stop at Lanzut, that castle of the princess Lubomirska, so famous in Poland for the union of the most perfect taste and magnificence.  I anticipated extreme pleasure from again seeing prince Henry Lubomirska, whose society, as well as that of his amiable lady, had made me pass at Geneva many agreeable moments.  I proposed to myself to remain there two days, and to continue my journey with great speed, as news came from all quarters that war was declared between France and Russia.  I don’t quite see what there was in this plan of mine so dreadful to the tranquillity of Austria; it was a most singular idea to be jealous of my connection with the Poles, because they served under Bonaparte.  No doubt, and I repeat it, the Poles cannot be confounded with the other nations who are tributary to France:  it is frightful to be obliged to hope for liberty only from a despot, and to expect the independence of one’s own nation only from the slavery of the rest of Europe.  But finally, in this Polish cause, the Austrian ministry was more to be suspected than I was, for it furnished troops to support it, while I only consecrated my poor forces to proclaim the justice of the cause of Europe, then defended by Russia.  Besides, the Austrian ministry, in common with all the governments in alliance with Bonaparte, has no longer any knowledge of what constitutes opinion, conscience, or affection:  the one single idea which they retain, the inconsistency of their own conduct and the art with which Napoleon’s diplomacy has entangled them, is that of mere brute force; and to please that they do every thing.

CHAPTER 9.

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