this
unfortunate kingdom, and so remained until the day it ceased to exist.
Their court became more numerous than that of the Prince, whom they
continually insulted with impunity, and who was king in name only.

Stanislaus Augustus Poniatowski was kind-hearted and very brave, but
perhaps he wanted the necessary energy to hold down the spirit of
rebellion reigning in his country. He did everything to make himself
agreeable to the nobility and the people, and he partly succeeded. But
there were so many disorderly interior elements, in addition to the
scheme of the three great neighbouring powers for the seizure of
Poland, that it would have been a miracle had he triumphed. He
ultimately succumbed and retired to Grodno, where he lived on a
pension allowed him by Russia, Prussia and Austria, who had divided
his kingdom between them.

After the death of Catherine II., the Emperor Paul invited Poniatowski
to St. Petersburg, to be present at his coronation. During the whole
ceremony, which was very long, the ex-king was allowed to stand,
which, in view of his advanced years, pained everybody there. Paul
afterward behaved more civilly when he asked him to stay at St.
Petersburg, and lodged him in a marble palace to be seen on a fine
quay of the Neva.

The King of Poland was now suitably housed. He created an agreeable
social circle for himself, largely composed of French, to whom were
added some other foreigners he wished to honour. He was so extremely
good as to seek me out, to bid me to his private parties, and he
called me his "dear friend," as Prince Kaunitz did at Vienna. Nothing
touched me more than to hear him repeat that it would have made him
glad to have me at Warsaw while he was still king. I was aware, in
fact, how at that time, some one having told him I was going to
Poland, he had replied that he would treat me with the greatest
distinction. But I am sure that every allusion to the past must have
been very painful to him.

He was very tall; his handsome face expressed gentleness and
kindness; his voice was resounding, and his walk erect without
conceit; his conversation had a particular charm, since he loved and
knew literature to a high degree. He was so passionately fond of the
arts, that at Warsaw, when he was king, he perpetually went to visit
the best artists. He was more considerate than can possibly be
imagined. I recollect being given a proof that makes me feel rather
ashamed when I think of it. Some