ly proposed to give spies a livery. It is not that the
director of all these absurdities is, as some say, devoid of
understanding: but he has such a strong desire to please the French
government, that he even seeks to do himself honor by his
meannesses, as publickly as possible. This proclaimed inspection was
executed with as much ingenuity as it was conceived: a corporal, or
a clerk, or perhaps both together, came to look at my carriage,
smoking their pipes, and when they had gone the round of it, they
went their way without even deigning to tell me if there was any
thing the matter with it; if they had done that, they would have
been at least good for something. I made very slow progress to wait
for the Russian passport, now my only means of safety in the
circumstances in which I was placed. One morning I turned out of my
road to go and see a ruined castle, which belonged to the princess
Lubomirska. To get to it, I had to go over roads, of which, without
having travelled in Poland, it is impossible to form an idea. In the
middle of a sort of desert which I was crossing alone with my son, a
person on horseback saluted me in French; I wished to answer him,
but he was already at a distance. I cannot express the effect which
the sound of that dear language produced upon me, at a moment so
cruel. Ah! if the French were but once free, how one would love
them! they would then be the first themselves to despise their
allies. I descended into the court yard of this castle, which was
entirely in ruins. The keeper, with his wife and children, came to
meet me, and embraced my knees. I caused them to be informed by a
bad interpreter, that I knew the princess Lubomirska; that name was
sufficient to inspire them with confidence; they had no doubt of the
truth of what I said, although I travelled with a very shabby
equipage. They introduced me into a sort of hall, which resembled a
prison, and at the moment of my entrance, one of the women came into
it to burn perfumes. They had neither white bread nor meat, but an
exquisite Hungarian wine, and every where the wrecks of magnificence
stood by the side of the greatest misery. This contrast is of
frequent recurrence in Poland: there are no beds, even in houses
fitted up with the most finished elegance. Every thing appears
sketched in this country, and nothing terminated in it; but what one
can never sufficiently praise is the goodness of the people, and the
generosity of the great: both