Delfina Potocka and her gravestone in Montmorency

The cemetery in Montmorency – a pantheon of Polish emigration

Montmorency lies a dozen or so kilometres from Paris. In the 18th century, the town was made famous by Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s visits. The author of *The Social Contract* attracted his admirers, who were drawn to the idyllic charms of the summer resort. Our compatriots, too, found this place irresistible. The first was General Karol Otto Kniaziewicz, a participant in the Kościuszko Uprising, who brought his friend, Julian Ursyn Niemcewicz, here. In accordance with their last wills, both were buried in the collegiate church at Montmorency Cemetery, in a unique double tomb.

Following the fall of the November Uprising, it was here, on the outskirts of the French capital, that a distinctive Polish diaspora began to gather – comprising both the living, consisting of artists, writers and émigré politicians, and those who had passed away. For it was at the local Les Champeaux Cemetery that great Poles who had died in France were laid to rest (including Adam Czartoryski, Cyprian Norwid, Olga Boznańska), and even – as it were, to emphasise the significance of this necropolis – the remains of Celina Mickiewiczowa were transferred here from the Père-Lachaise cemetery in Paris so that she might rest alongside her husband Adam and her son Władysław. At one point, it was even said that this cemetery on the outskirts of Paris was the ‘pantheon of the Polish diaspora’.

It should be emphasised, however, that the significance of the cemetery in Montmorency did not fade with Poland’s regaining of independence. After the Second World War, soldiers of the Polish Armed Forces in the West and activists of the independence emigration movement were buried in the cemetery on the outskirts of Paris, in keeping with the verses of Maria Konopnicka:

Our graves, our native graves, / You, tombs brimming with life, / You are not an altar of vain mourning / but a stronghold of strength.

Delfina Potocka – muse of the Polish Romantics

One might be tempted to say that Delfina Potocka (1807–1877) was buried amongst her friends, though in the context of this place, that would sound far too trivial. She was, therefore, not so much a lady of the Great Emigration – for she did not really concern herself with politics – as the muse and friend of the numerous circle of people resting in Montmorency. What paths in life led her there?

Delfina Potocka, née Komarów, was brought up in a wealthy but not particularly well-regarded family. However, her stunning beauty – which brought her as many benefits as it did problems – combined with a respectable dowry meant she was quickly married off. In 1825, Mieczysław Potocki became her husband – a happy, though as it was soon to turn out, unhappy, union. He was the son of Stanisław Szczęsny, Marshal of the Targowica Confederation, and the owner of Tulczyn and vast estates in Ukraine. He was considered the richest man in the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, but due to his explosive and boisterous temperament, he was plagued by a family curse. Her marriage to Mieczysław was fraught with violence, sorrow and misunderstanding.

Paradoxically, the outbreak of the November Uprising brought Potocka some solace, when she travelled to the French capital with her parents and siblings. She blossomed in the Parisian salons, winning over the great figures of that world – from French marquises, through Balzac, Norwid and Napoleon’s nephew Hieronim, to Frédéric Chopin, whom she also accompanied in the final moments of his life. And it was she, a pupil of ‘Dear Mr Chopin’, as she affectionately wrote in her letters, who played – and perhaps even sang – a few of the composer’s final pieces to him as he lay dying. This was immortalised in a painting by Félix-Joseph Barrias. Meanwhile, Potocka’s epistolary romance with Zygmunt Krasiński resulted in several hundred letters, which the literary critic Jan Kott described as ‘the greatest novel of Polish Romanticism’. Juliusz Słowacki, too, was not immune to Delfina Potocka’s charm; he depicted her in *Fantazym* as Florentynka, ‘who listens to the poet / And wears wreaths of thorns in her braids, / As if a storm were raging’.

Delfina Potocka’s marble gravestone in Les Champeaux

It is an open secret that both Słowacki and Krasiński were mutually jealous of each other’s feelings towards the beautiful Polish woman. Of the three ‘prophets’, only Mickiewicz remained indifferent towards her, and at times even hostile, calling her, for example, ‘the greatest sinner’. Paradoxically, it was he who, after her death, was closest to Delfina, as she was laid to rest in Les Champeaux cemetery in 1877 (Mickiewicz’s ashes were transferred to Kraków in 1890).

Historians say that she outlived her era, and the twilight of her life coincided with the conservative and highly restrained Victorian period. Could this be why Delfina Potocka was buried right by the wall – albeit, it should be added, the inner wall – of the cemetery? Were it not for the surviving archival photographs, one might wonder whether this was the result of changes to the cemetery’s layout. However, a photograph from the second half of the 19th century refutes this hypothesis.

In fact, the entire gravestone – a rather modest, low-rise tomb set upon a stone plinth – has undergone no significant alterations over the past one and a half centuries. It was originally surrounded by a cast-iron fence and planted with shrubs on three sides. Today, the fence is gone, and part of the stone base has been replaced by gravel. The vegetation has also changed its location – now it only separates the gravestone from the wall.

Słowacki once wrote of Delfina that she was a ‘marble little person’ and so too is her grave – made of white, fine marble, devoid of any ornamentation, with a simple, flat cross and epitaphs carved into the marble. Let us note, however, that towards the end of her life, already seriously ill, Potocka devoted herself to charitable work for poor girls, specifically those from Montmorency. Perhaps, then, she herself wished for a memorial that was modest in form?

Potocka – a tragic heroine

A researcher into the life of Delfina Potocka said in a radio programme from the 1970s that ‘she would make a brilliant heroine for a sad film’. Almost half a century has passed since then, and yet, despite several attempts, this idea has still not been realised. In this context, it is heartening that both Delfina’s grave and the cemetery in Montmorency itself are being increasingly well looked after. This is also thanks to the Polonika Institute, whose funding has recently enabled the conservation of another monument at Les Champeaux: the grave of Cyprian Norwid, an artist who was, incidentally, close to Potocka. Perhaps, then, future generations too will fall under the spell of this beautiful and mysterious lady, whilst at the same time becoming more familiar with the works dedicated to her.