The supper \Yas to take place at Chojecki's. When I arrived I found a good many guests already there, and among them scarcely a single Frenchman ; to make up for this other nationalities, from the Sicilians to the Croats, were well represented. I was really interested in one person only-Adam Mickiewicz; I had never seen him before. He was standing by the fireplace with his elbow on the marble mantelpiece. Anyone who had seen his portrait in the French edition of his works, taken, I believe, from the medallion executed by David d'Angers, could have recognised him at once in spite of the great change wrought by the years. Many thoughts and sufferings had passed over his face, which was rather Lithuanian than Polish. The whole impression made by his figure, by his head, his luxuriant grey hair and weary eyes, was suggestive of unhappiness endured, of acquaintance with spiritual pain, and of the exaltation of sorrow-he was the moulded likeness of the fate of Poland. The same impression was made on me later by the face of Worcell, though the features of the latter, while even !llore expressive of suffering, were more animated and gracious than those of Mickiewicz. It seemed as though Mickiewicz were held back, preoccupied, distracted by something: that 'something' was the strange mysticism into which he retreated further and further.
I went up to him and he began questioning me about Russia: his information was fragmentary ; he knew little of the literary movement after Pushkin, having stopped short at the time when he left Russia.1 In spite of his basic idea of a fraternal league of all the Slavonic peoples-a conception he was one of the first to I A. :\1ickiewicz had been in Russia in 1 824 and 1 825 to participate in the work of the secret patriotic society of the Philarets. He met and made friends with Pushkin, Ryleyev, Baryatynsky, Vyazemsky, Zhukovsky, Krylov, Griboedov and others. (A.S.)
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develop-he retained some hostility to Russia. And indeed it could hardly he otherwise after all the atrocities perpetrated by the Tsar and his satraps; besides, we were speaking at a time when the terrorism of Nicholas was at i ts very worst.
The first thing that surprised me disagreeably was the attitude to him of the Poles, his followers: they approached him as monks approach an abbot, with self-abasement and reverent awe; some of them kissed him on the shoulder. He must have been accustomed to these expressions of submissive affection, for he accepted them with great laisser aller. To be recognised by people of the same way of thinking, to have influence on them, to see their affection, is desired by everyone who is devoted, body and soul, to his convictions and lives by them ; but external signs of sympathy and respect I should not like to accept-they destroy equality and consequently freedom. Moreover, in that respect we can never catch up with bishops, heads of departments, and colonels of regiments.
Chojecki told me that at the supper he was going to propose a toast 'to the memory of the 24th of February, 1 848,' that Mickiewicz would respond with a speech in which he would expound his views and the spirit of the new magazine; he wished me as a Russian to reply to Mickiewicz. Not being accustomed to public speaking, especially without preparation, I declined his invitation, but promised to propose the heal th of Mickiewicz and to add a few words describing how I had first drunk his health in Moscow at a public dinner given to Granovsky in the year 1844. Khomyakov had raised his glass with the words, 'To the great Slavonic poet who is absent!' The name (which we dared not pronounce) was not needed; everyone raised his glass and, standing in silence, drank to the health of the exile. Chojecki was satisfied. Having thus arranged our extempore speeches, we sat down to the table. At the end of the supper, Chojecki proposed his toast. Mickiewicz got up and began speaking. His speech was elaborate and clever, and extremely adroit-that is to say Barbes2 and Louis-Napoleon could both have applauded it sincerely; it made me wince. As he developed his thought I began to feel painfully distressed and, that not the slightest doubt might be left, waited for one word, one name: it was not slow to appear!3
Mickiewicz worked up to the theme that democracy was now 2 Barbes, Armand ( 1 809-70), called the 'Bayard de Ia democratie,' was a people's representative in 1 848, imprisoned in 1 849, and sel free in 1 854. ( Tr.)
3 I.e., Louis-Napoleon. (A.S.)
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preparing to enter a new, open camp, at the head of which stood France; that it would once more rush to the liberation of all oppressed peoples under the same eagles, under the same standards, at the sight of which all tsars and powers had turned pale; and that it would once more be led forward by a member of that dynasty which had been crowned by the people, and, as it seemed, ordained by Providence itself to guide revolution by the well-ordered path of authority and victory.4
When he had finished a general silence followed, except for two or three exclamations of approval from his adherents.
Chojecki was very well aware of Mickiewicz's blunder and, wishing to efface the effect of the speech as quickly as possible, came up with a bottle, filled my glass and whispered to me:
'Well?'
'I am not going to say a word after that speech.'
'Please do say something.'
'Nothing will induce me.'
The silence continued ; some people kept their eyes fixed on their plates, others scrutinised their glasses, others fell into private conversation with their neighbours. Mickiewicz changed colour; he wanted to say something more, but a loud 'le demande la parole' put an end to the painful situation. Everyone turned to the man who had risen to his feet. A rather short man of about seventy, grey-haired, with a fine vigorous exterior, stood with a glass in his trembling hand; anger and indignation were apparent in his large, black eyes and excited face. It was Ramon de la Sagra.s
'To the 24th of February,' he said: 'that was the toast proposed by our host. Yes, to the 24th of. February, and to the downfall of every despotism whatever its name is, king or emperor, Bourbon or Bonaparte. I cannot share the views of our friend Mickiewicz 4 In 1 848 Adam Mickiewicz had shown himself to be a revolutionary and a democrat; but. like many other workers in the Polish nationailiberation movement, he was i{nbued with 1\'apoleonic illusions. which came out particula rly clearly after 10 December 1 849, when 1\'apoleon l's nephew, Louis Bonaparte. was elected President of France. M. saw in him the continuation of the work of ;\.'apolt>on I. which had been the work of the revolution. Although M. had beconw disappointed in Louisl\'apoleon even in 1 8-�9, IH' could not !'ven so fully overconw h is Illusions about 1\'apoleon I. (A.S.)