Ten Years' Exile / Memoirs of That Interesting Period of the Life of the Baroness De Stael-Holstein, Written by Herself, during the Years 1810, 1811, 1812, and 1813, and Now First Published from the Original Manuscript, by Her Son.

by Madame de Staël

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 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.