are easily excited by all that is good
and beautiful, and the agents whom Austria sends there seem like
wooden men in the midst of this flexible nation.

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 thr