LIFE AND LETTERS 
 
 OF 
 
 MADAME SWETCHINE.
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS 
 
 MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 BY 
 
 COUNT DE FALLOUX, 
 
 OF THE FRENCH ACADEMY. 
 
 TRANSLATED BY H. W. PRESTON. 
 
 BOSTON : 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS. 
 1867.
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, 
 
 in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 
 
 C A MBRIDOE ! 
 STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BV JOHN WILSON AND SON.
 
 INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 
 
 THE conscientious pains taken by the translator to 
 make the present volume a clear and correct English 
 representation of the French original have, it is 
 hoped, been crowned with marked success. Whether 
 this has been achieved, is left to the decision of the 
 critics. But as to the substantial interest and value 
 of the work itself, there can be no question. 
 
 The outer life of Mme. Swetchine was laid amidst 
 scenes combining, in a high degree, almost all the 
 elements of power and splendor and romantic vicis- 
 situde adapted to awaken and gratify curiosity. 
 
 The record of her inner life is richer still in at- 
 tractiveness and instruction. She was an acute and 
 unwearied student of herself and of others. In the 
 course of her mental career, she ran through the 
 whole scale of human experience, either directly or 
 by a moral mastery of the secrets of society. Few 
 
 women have lived so deep and wide and crowded a 
 
 [v]
 
 vi INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 
 
 life as she, or with such a profound appreciation of its 
 contents. Nothing which combined energy, wisdom 
 and innocence can fathom, was unknown to her. 
 
 As a character, Mme. Swetchine must henceforth 
 hold a front place among the most powerful, original, 
 pure and fascinating, revealed in all history. The 
 combination in her of natural force, intense passion, 
 acquired knowledge, resignation, and repose, is truly 
 wonderful. The picture of her steady progress from 
 the perturbations of earthly and personal desires, 
 towards the perfection of saintly virtue and peace, is 
 charming in its portrayal, and divine in its signifi- 
 cance. 
 
 During the largest part of her long and rich life, 
 Mme. Swetchine stood in intimate relations with a 
 large number of the noblest, most interesting, and 
 commanding characters of her century. These are 
 described by M. de Falloux, and their mutual rela- 
 tions set forth, with great precision and skill. The 
 history of the central personage forms a glorious, 
 spiritual epic. The accounts of her friends make a 
 portrait-gallery of exalted characters. 
 
 It may seem strange, that a work so eminently 
 Catholic in its quality as this biography should be 
 introduced to a Protestant people by a Protestant 
 translator and Protestant publishers. But, on fur-
 
 INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. Vll 
 
 ther consideration, will not this be found especially 
 fit and serviceable? In this country, a traditional 
 antipathy or bigoted repugnance to the Catholic 
 Church prevails in an unjustifiable extreme. What- 
 ever is repulsive in the Catholic dogmas or rule is 
 fastened on with unwarrantable acrimony and exclu- 
 siveness. The interests alike of justice and of good 
 feeling demand that the attention of Protestants shall, 
 at least occasionally, be given to the best ingredients 
 and workings of the Catholic system. In the present 
 work, we have the forensic doctrine and authority of 
 Catholicity in the background, its purest inner aims 
 and life in the foreground. We here have a beau- 
 tiful specimen of the style of character and expe- 
 rience which the most imposing organic Symbol of 
 Christendom tends to produce, and has, in all the 
 ages of its mighty reign, largely produced. If every 
 bigoted disliker of the Roman Catholic Church 
 within the English-speaking race could read this 
 book, and, as a consequence, have his prejudices 
 lessened, his sympathies enlarged, the result, so far 
 from being deprecated, should be warmly welcomed. 
 This is written by one who, while enthusiastically 
 admiring the spiritual wealth of the Catholic Church, 
 the ineffable tenderness and beauty of its moral and 
 religious ministrations, is, as to its dogmatic fabric
 
 Vlll INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 
 
 and secular sway, even more than a Protestant of 
 the Protestants. 
 
 Finally, this book is especially commended to 
 women as a work of inestimable worth. The char- 
 acter and life of Mme. Swetchine, her lonely studies 
 and aspirations, her sublime personal attainments, 
 her philanthropic labors, her literary productions, her 
 sweet social charm and vast influence, her thrice- 
 royal friendships with kings and geniuses and saints, 
 the sober raptures of her religious faith and fruition, 
 form an example whose exciting and edifying interest 
 and value are scarcely surpassed in the annals of her 
 sex. 
 
 WILLIAM ROUNSEVILLE ALGEE.
 
 AUTHOK'S PKBFACE. 
 
 WHAT Mme. Swetchine was, others have told, and 
 others will yet tell, better than I. No one will tell 
 it better than herself in this volume, which con- 
 tains at once her thoughts and her example. 
 
 Yet I owe the public a word. I feel bound to 
 explain by what means, and under what circum- 
 stances, I became the depositary of the treasure 
 which is soon to pass from my hands into those of 
 the public. 
 
 Mme. Swetchine herself and I can support the 
 assertion by a thousand irrefragable proofs never 
 conceived the ambition of posthumous fame. Her 
 constant and much-to-be-lamented anxiety was to 
 keep a veil between her private life and the world, 
 and never allow it to be raised. In this respect, 
 her humility took every precaution which a haughty 
 reserve could have suggested ; and she was always 
 humble. 
 
 After the death of General Swetchine, Mme. Swet- 
 chine made known her purpose to appoint me the 
 executor of her will. She had mentioned the subject 
 
 [ix]
 
 x AUTHOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 to me ; speaking, however, from a purely legal point 
 of view, and without allowing me the slightest 
 glimpse of her intentions concerning her memoir. 
 I was so profoundly sure that she would shroud in 
 inviolable obscurity all which concerned herself per- 
 sonally, that I never felt at liberty to question her, 
 or to obtain information which would have been 
 exceedingly precious to me as her biographer. 
 
 Mine. Swetchine did not suppose it possible for 
 her life to be written, or her works published. 
 Never, for an instant, did she either hope or fear 
 that her papers would be examined with the minute- 
 ness necessary for the discovery and restoration of 
 their connected order. Nevertheless, when she hon- 
 ored me with this legacy, I believe she did it delib- 
 erately, and not without the affectionate and discerning 
 thought which she exercised in other matters. 
 
 During her lifetime, she had no desire either to 
 hoard her thoughts, or to make them public. Neither 
 did she wish arbitrarily to condemn aught, save that 
 which she destroyed, out of prudence or delicacy for 
 others. Many of her books of notes, extracts, and 
 pious meditations, were sources of pleasure and 
 profit to herself; and for her own use she preserved 
 them till the day of her death. She left to Provi- 
 dence the care of determining the value and the 
 destiny of these scattered fragments ; but, with all 
 her discretion, she was not forgetful. She would 
 never have deprived her friends of a source of con- 
 solation and support ; still less would she have
 
 AUTHOR S PREFACE. XI 
 
 arranged and prescribed the execution of any wish 
 of her own. By withholding all confidential com- 
 munications and indications, by the absence, as it 
 were, of any conducting wire, she caused all the 
 chances to lean to the side which she preferred, 
 that is, the side of silence. After that, she closed 
 her eyes to the future, accepting whatever resolu- 
 tion her friends might take, as a decision in which 
 it had sufficed her to have no voice. 
 
 The judgment and the wish of the friends con- 
 sulted have been unanimous. I will venture to add, 
 that she herself justified us in advance, when she 
 wrote as follows, on the death of her friend, the 
 Princess Alexis Galitzin : 
 
 " If I might make a suggestion, T would entreat you to com- 
 mit to paper a few dates, a few words, some slight sketch, for 
 the sake of preserving the memory of that holy woman. I know 
 well that she needs it not, and that all which concerns her now 
 is, that her name be inscribed in the book of life ; but for us, and 
 those who are to come after us, it is a great consolation to know 
 something of our elders in the faith. As long as we are igno- 
 rant of their character, their vocation, and the acts of their lives, 
 they live for us in an abstract state ; and abstractions, as you 
 well know, do not touch the heart." 
 
 These lines alone would have sufficed for the se- 
 curity of my conscience, and the inspiration of my 
 work.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A glance at the court of Russia in the eighteenth century. Birth 
 of Mme. Swetchine. Her education. Her marriage .... 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The French emigres in Russia. Their connection with Mme. Swet- 
 chine. Reign of the Emperor Paul. Courageous generosity of 
 General Swetchine. His high position at court. His dis- 
 grace. Extracts from Mme. Swetchine's note-books 23 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Accession of the Emperor Alexander. Arrival of the Count de 
 Maistre at St. Petersburg. Adoption of young Nadine Staeline. 
 Works of charity and correspondence with Alexander Tourgue- 
 nief. Marriage of the Princess Gargarin. Earliest letters to 
 Mile. Roxandra Stourdza 44 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Invasion of Russia by the Emperor Napoleon. Mme. Swetchine is 
 appointed president of the (soldiers' Aid Society. Letter to the 
 Abbe 1 Nicolle. Correspondence with Mile. Stourdza during the 
 years 1813 and 1814 65 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Connection between Mile. Stourdza and Mme. de Kriidener. Cor- 
 respondence between Mme. Swetchine and Mile. Stourdza con- 
 tinued 91 
 
 [xiii]
 
 XIV CONTEXTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Album of Louis de Saint Priest, and unpublished thoughts of Count 
 de Maistre. Death of the Princess de Tarente 120 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Conversion of Mme. Swetchine 131 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Mme. Swetchine has occasion publicly to profess the Catholic faith. 
 Her departure for France 146 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Arrival of Mme. Swetchine at Paris. Correspondence with the 
 Duchess de Duras 155 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Unpublished letters of Count de Mais^re. Mme. Swetchine's earli- 
 est connections in Paris. Notes of the Abbe" Desjardins. 
 Departure of Mme. Swetchine for Italy. Correspondence with 
 the Marquise de Montcalm 177 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Excursion to Carlsbad. Return to Rome. Continuation of the 
 Correspondence with the Marquise de Montcalm. Letters to 
 Mile, de Virieu, the Countess de Sainte-Aulaire, the Duke de 
 Laval Montmorenci, and Mine. Re"camier. Extracts from her 
 journal 199 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Permanent establishment of Mine. Swetchine in Paris. Death of 
 the Emperor Alexander, and accession of the Emperor Nich- 
 olas. Salon of Mme. Swetchine. Mme de Nesselrode's resi- 
 dence near her. Death of the Duchess de Duras 222 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Revolution of 1830. New religious situation. Correspondence 
 with the Count de Montalembert and the Abbe Lacordaire. 
 Notes of Fattier de Ravignan 247
 
 CONTENTS. XV 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Death of the Countess de S^gur d'Aguesseau. Death of Prince 
 Gargarin. Letter of Mme. Swetchine on the occasion of a se- 
 vere order of the Emperor Nicholas. Mme. Swetchine's last 
 visit to Hussia. Consecration of her chapel. Her piety. Her 
 charity 276 
 
 CHAPTER XV." 
 
 Revolution of 1848. Mme. Swetchine's opinion of the events and 
 personages of this epoch. M. de Radowitz. Donoso Cortes. 
 M. Berryer. Death of General Swetchine. Crimean war. 
 Death of the Emperor Nicholas 304 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 M. de Lamartine and Count de Maistre. Correspondence with 
 Prince de Broglie and Alexis de Tocqueville. Mme. Swet- 
 chine's failing health. Her last visit to Fleury 321 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Letter to Count de Montalembert on the last days of Mme. Swet- 
 chine 342

 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A glance at the court of Russia in the eighteenth century. Birth of 
 Madame Swetchine. Her education. Her marriage. 
 
 MADAME SWETCHINE was born at Moscow, on 
 the 22d of November, 1782. Her father, M. Soy- 
 monof, was descended from an ancient Muscovite family, 
 occupied an important post in the internal administration 
 of the empire, and was one of the founders of the Acade- 
 my of Sciences at Moscow. Her mother belonged to an 
 equally distinguished race, remarkable alike for literary 
 taste and military ability. She was the daughter of Major- 
 General Jean Boltine, a native of the environs of Kasan ; 
 and one of her ancestors had been Russian ambassador to 
 Denmark. General Boltine kept up a protracted contro- 
 versy with Prince Sherebatof on the subject of the Russian 
 annals, several pages of which he helped to elucidate ; 
 and he carried the translation of the French Encyclopedia 
 into Russian up to the nineteenth volume. 
 
 At that period, even more than at present, Moscow was 
 the real national capital of Russia ; and the most illus- 
 trious of her country's memories mingled naturally with 
 Mme. Swetchine's earliest impressions. It \>iir*&e neces- 
 sary to pass hi rapid review the events, the contrasts, the 
 spectacles, which were the first teachers of hqy-*young 
 
 1
 
 2 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCIIINE. 
 
 mind, and long continued to influence her, if we would not 
 neglect the principal feature of a rare predestination, and 
 make light of that love of country which she so faithfully 
 cherished. In her biography there are facts which cannot 
 be adequately appreciated till one has become penetrated 
 with the true spirit of the Russian mind and manners at 
 that epoch, and till the reader has first transported him- 
 self into a realm of history differing widely from our own 
 time in its habits of thought and action. 
 
 Russia although the rude interruption of her history 
 by the will of a single man has utterly changed its ten- 
 dency, its theatre, and its aspect is not merely a power- 
 ful empire : she is an original and mighty nationality. 
 A survey of the Kremlin at Moscow is equivalent to a 
 rapid review of the surviving traces of the old Russian 
 dynasties, and leaves a profound impression upon the 
 memory. 
 
 The common notion in France is, that the Kremlin is 
 a citadel, and that there is no other kremlin except that 
 of Moscow. Both these ideas are erroneous. Every 
 ancient and important Russian town has a fortified enclo- 
 sure containing a church, which is the object of peculiar 
 reverence, often several of them, a convent, a maga- 
 zine for artillery, and some munitions of war. This en- 
 semble they call a kremlin. It is, in effect, a fortress where 
 the people concentrates all which constitutes its strength ; 
 its religion, namely, its archives, and its arms. Treasures 
 of the most important and interesting nature have accu- 
 mulated at Moscow in this triple connection. 
 
 In the centre of the Kremlin stands the cathedral ; be- 
 yond are the old manor of the Czars, the senatorial palace, 
 and, lastly, the arsenal. Here are collected relics of all 
 the ages, from the sceptre and globe sent by Alexis Corn-
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCIIINE. 3 
 
 menes to Vladimir Monomachus, to the litter of Charles 
 XII., a trophy of the battle of Pultowa. The crowns 
 worn by the successive Russian sovereigns are arranged 
 in their historical order. A single glance comprehends 
 them all: the first, simple fur caps, adorned with some 
 cheap emblems; afterwards, velvet skull-caps, enriched 
 with precious stones ; lastly, the modern diadem of gold 
 and diamonds. Then come the thrones : the ivory one of 
 Iwan III. Wasiliewitch, carved in the Byzantine style ; 
 that of Boris Godouuof, a wooden seat plated with gold, 
 a present to the Czar from a shah of Persia. Alone 
 on a platform at the back of a gallery, there is a double- 
 seated throne of silver gilt, which attracts the attention 
 less by the magnificence of its workmanship and its pro- 
 fusion of turquoises than by the singular arrangement 
 of a movable curtain behind it, which falls from a spacious 
 da'is, and served to associate in the royal scene a third 
 invisible personage. This is supposed to have been the 
 Princess Sophia, who used to dictate to her two brothers, 
 Iwan and Peter, the words which she dared not trust to 
 their infantine or intractable memories. But the younger 
 of the two brothers soon grew weary of this tutelage; 
 the prompter was relegated to a monastery, Iwan was 
 reduced to silence, and Peter the Great was left the sole 
 occupant of this throne, which he found none too large. 
 
 The revolt of the Strelitz, which had rendered his acces- 
 sion bloody and terrible, had left on his mind an inefface- 
 able impression of the barbarous violence of his subjects. 
 His education, necessarily confided to strangers of different 
 nationalities, had developed this germ ; and the Prince 
 grew up with a determination to implant European civi- 
 lization by main force in the heart of Russia. Every 
 thing was sacrificed to this dominant idea, his repose, his
 
 4 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 dignity, the life of his own son, the old ancestral resi- 
 dence of his predecessors. Peter knew well that he could 
 not accomplish single-handed the regeneration of which 
 he dreamed. He wished to open to strangers a door into 
 his realm, and to his subjects a window with a view of 
 Europe. St. Petersburg was improvised in the midst 
 of sands and surge. Was this enterprise, undertaken in 
 defiance of the soil and the traditions of a people, a suc- 
 cess ? It is still an open question. To this very day, the 
 traveller meets, as he would have met two centuries ago, 
 with Russians who are smitten with love of the young 
 Prince Alexis, who leagued with the long-beards to resist 
 the impetuous innovations of his father, and who fell a 
 victim to his fidelity to the old Russian instinct. "What- 
 ever may yet result from the rival destinies of St. Peters- 
 burg and Moscow, an undeniable revolution took place in 
 the lifetime of Peter the Great, and survived him. Prog- 
 ress in the mechanic arts, and even in the sciences ; the 
 improvement of mines ; a stronger military organization ; 
 the creation of a navy ; acquisitions of territory ; and con- 
 stant and deliberate invasions of other lands, date from 
 his reign. But unlimited power was at the same time 
 inaugurated, in lieu of the laws and customs with which 
 authority had hitherto been clothed. The supreme power 
 destroyed at one blow its useful auxiliaries and its in- 
 convenient opponents. Attendance at the court and resi- 
 dence on the great estates having become incompatible, 
 lord and peasant lost sight of one another to their mutual 
 disadvantage ; serfdom, far from being expunged from the 
 annals, was perpetuated and aggravated ; the remnants 
 of religious liberty were swept away ; the Czar became 
 absolute pontiff of the Church, as well as sole head of 
 the State ; confiscation accompanied the administration
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCIIIXE. 5 
 
 of justice, and corrupted it ; even the rules of the royal 
 succession were abolished ; and forty years afterwards, at 
 the close of a reign of crude and fantastic grandeur, 
 Peter departed this life, leaving behind him only a huge 
 rough sketch, and as many ruins as monuments. His 
 successors inherited an irresponsible despotism, chastised 
 but unmitigated by plots and assassinations. Paul I. soon 
 became possible, and Alexander necessary. 
 
 Catharine L, the second wife of Peter the Great, suc- 
 ceeded him, with no better title than the ascendency of 
 the favorite Menchikoff at the head of a soldiery which 
 he had carried away, won over, or intimidated. The wife 
 of a Swedish corporal, taken prisoner by the Russians; 
 rendered conspicuous, first by her beauty, afterwards by 
 her courage and presence of mind, Catharine L, in the 
 field and upon the throne, is the representative of one 
 of Fortune's caprices. She died two years after the Czar, 
 worn out by the abuse of intoxicating liquors ; a vice 
 which had first stimulated and then conquered her, by 
 imbruting the very intelligence which had paved her way 
 to supreme power. 
 
 Peter II., son of the unfortunate Alexis, who was pro- 
 claimed emperor at the age of fifteen, but succumbed 
 almost immediately to an attack of small-pox, is scarcely 
 to be counted in the chronology of the Russian monarchs. 
 
 The Empress Anne, Duchess of Courland, was the 
 next occupant of this formidable throne. She made use 
 of the new attributes which the sovereign authority had 
 arrogated to itself, and named as her heir an infant in 
 the cradle, a son of Prince Anton of Brunswick, who 
 was connected on his mother's side with the imperial 
 family. The Duchess of Brunswick was angry at finding 
 herself balked of the prerogatives of the regency hi the
 
 6 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 interest of the Duke of Courland ; and the field-marshal, 
 Munich, promised to avenge her. Followed by forty 
 grenadiers, he went, one night, and seized the Duke of 
 Courland in his bed, and exiled him to Siberia. A daugh- 
 ter of Peter the Great, Elizabeth, who had beheld with 
 the seeming calm of passive indifference the accomplish- 
 ment of these ambitious revolutions, suddenly takes a new 
 turn, or is relieved from her abnegation. Woronzof is 
 summoned; the imperial palace is once more invaded at 
 night by three hundred grenadiers ; the Duke and Duchess 
 of Courland are confined at Riga ; and the infant Emperor 
 Iwan is shut up in the fortified monastery of Walda'i, and 
 afterwards transferred to the citadel of Schlusselburg. 
 
 The. movement which had placed Elizabeth upon the 
 throne*was not confined to the narrow circle of the con- 
 spirators. It appeased the national dissatisfaction, which 
 was everywhere manifesting itself against the interference 
 of foreigners in the government of Russia. A single day 
 saw the principal personages in the empire led to punish- 
 ment, Munich, Osterman, Mengden, and some others. 
 Chancellor Osterman, who had presided for several reigns 
 over the conduct of foreign affairs, was carried down in 
 an arm-chair while suffering from an attack of the gout, 
 and enveloped in a dressing-gown. The executioner 
 placed the Chancellor's head upon the block, bared his 
 neck, and raised the axe. At that moment, an officer 
 came up, and announced that the Empress had granted 
 Osterman his life, but condemned him to perpetual exile. 
 The old minister merely bowed his head in acknowledg- 
 ment of the favor, and said, without the slightest trace 
 of emotion in his countenance, "I would thank you for 
 my cap and perruque." The other victims, who were 
 assembled at the foot of the same scaffold, then received
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCIIINE. 7 
 
 commutation of their sentence. Munich and Osterman 
 were sent to Siberia, while the Duke of Courland was 
 recalled thence. The old regent, and he who had ousted 
 him from power, met at a relay station in a suburb of 
 Kasan. They regarded one another with astonishment, 
 exchanged a courteous but silent salute, and continued 
 their opposite routes. 
 
 For a long time, Elizabeth divided her confidence 
 between two simultaneous favorites. Razoumofski and 
 Schouvalof vied with one another without jealousy, and 
 behaved less like rivals than colleagues. The conflicts of 
 Europe had not yet shaken the Russian government ; 
 and the employment of its mighty resources was confined 
 to neighborhood quarrels with Sweden, Poland, and the 
 Ottoman Porte. Elizabeth, however, interfered actively 
 between Prussia, Austria, and Hungary. The cabinets 
 of St. James and Versailles maintained at her court 
 accredited diplomatic agents of a distinguished rank ; and 
 Frederic wrote as follows in his military memoirs : " Of 
 all the neighbors of Prussia, the Russian Empire is the 
 most dangerous, and deserves the most attention. It is 
 powerful, and it is near. The future rulers of Prussia 
 will be under an equal necessity of cultivating the friend- 
 ship of these barbarians." 
 
 Count Schouvalof was a lover of the fine arts, and 
 did much to cultivate a taste for them at the Russian 
 court. He founded the University of Moscow, the eldest 
 and foremost of the Russian universities, and opened 
 with the French philosophers that correspondence which 
 attracted to St. Petersburg the attention and the respect 
 of the eighteenth century. He conceived the idea of 
 intrusting to Voltaire the mission of writing the history 
 of Peter the Great, and transmitted to him those rnuti-
 
 8 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHIXE. 
 
 lated and sycophantic memoirs on which the popular 
 judgment of this prince is based. Finally, he introduced 
 the French language into the official documents, and 
 founded a French theatre at St. Petersburg. 
 
 Civilization continued to spread in Russia ; but the 
 improvement was superficial, not thorough. Immorality 
 made its way into high places, along with polish of man- 
 ner. The lower classes were taught dissimulation rather 
 than probity, privileged abuses claimed the right to walk 
 abroad without disguise, and no thoughtful or careful 
 study was bestowed upon the tumults and oppressions of 
 the people. Costumes were changed rather than man- 
 ners ; and a people, than which there is none more richly 
 gifted with intelligence and vigor, was made a spectacle 
 of by its masters, rather than conscientiously prepared 
 for the accomplishment of its true destiny. 
 
 Elizabeth died in 1761. Her chosen successor was 
 her nephew, Ulric of Holstein Gottorp, whose mother 
 was a daughter of Peter the Great. He took the title 
 of Peter III. The wife who was to share his throne 
 was Sophia of Anhalt-Zerbst. On embracing the Greek 
 religion, she took the name of Catharine, which was 
 given her by the Empress Elizabeth. An avowed mis- 
 understanding already existed between the married pair 
 at the time when they assumed the crown. Peter III. 
 offended the Russians by the sternness of his manners, 
 and by his extravagant fondness for the Prussian dis- 
 cipline. The young officers passed rapidly from discon- 
 tent to conspiracy. Peter III. was attacked at Peterhof, 
 while the Empress continued to reside at St. Petersburg. 
 The abdication and death of Peter were the mysterious 
 business of a few hours, and the Empress was proclaimed 
 under the name of Catharine II.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 9 
 
 Such an advent necessitated the hushing of many ru- 
 mors, and the flattery of many hopes. Having been crowned 
 with great pomp at Moscow in 1762, Catharine summoned 
 to her presence the deputies from all parts of her empire, 
 with the purpose of submitting to them her plans for 
 reform and new institutions. An assembly of something 
 like two hundred members, representing hostile interests, 
 and speaking different languages, fatigued and frightened 
 her. . The deputations were dismissed, and pleasure once 
 more took precedence of business. 
 
 But Catharine never lost sight of her double purpose 
 of winning the hearts of her subjects, and securing the 
 suffrages of those who dispense European fame. M. de 
 Breteuil, the ambassador of Louis XV., wrote from St. 
 Petersburg to Versailles : " The Czarina has taken pains 
 to ascertain whether or no I am acquainted with M. de 
 Voltaire, in order to insure the rectification of his ideas 
 about the melancholy tragedy of Peterhof." The edu- 
 cation of her only son, the Grand-duke Paul, was offered 
 to D'Alembert: Grimm and Diderot were summoned to 
 St. Petersburg. Baron Grimm, who had left Bavaria 
 for Russia, soon established himself at Paris in the char- 
 acter of diplomatic historian and literary charge d'affaires. 
 Diderot wrote to his Parisian friends: "I am treated 
 here as the representative of the honorable and able 
 portion of my countrymen." He was, however, opposed 
 to maintaining the seat of government at St. Peters- 
 burg, and often repeated that " to have the capital at the 
 extremity of the kingdom was like having the heart at 
 the fingers' ends : it rendered the circulation difficult, and 
 the least wound mortal." Before returning to France, 
 Diderot imparted to the Empress a number of plans 
 for the education of her people, all of which she promptly
 
 10 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 forgot. Other selections were more fortunate. Prussia 
 saw herself deprived of the laborious and celebrated natu- 
 ralist Pallas, of whom Cuvier said, " He just missed of 
 changing the whole aspect of zoology : lie actually did 
 change that of the theory of the earth." In short, a 
 just appreciation of the difficulties, if not of the duties, 
 of her situation ; an ambition cherished and ripened in 
 her youth ; frivolity of taste joined with grandeur of imagi- 
 nation ; a constant pre-occupation with schemes of fasci- 
 nation and seduction, all these suggested to Catharine 
 incessant enterprises, often less important than they 
 appeared, but always gorgeous and imposing. 
 
 Nevertheless, this height of prosperity was not exempt 
 from trouble and menace. A simple Cossack, Pugatchef, 
 conceived the bold project of passing himself off for 
 Peter III., raised regiments in the provinces, and was 
 vanquished only at the gates of Moscow. The imperial 
 captive at Schlusselburg, young Iwan VI., was poniarded 
 by his guards, who had their orders beforehand, at the 
 very moment when an attempt which had been crowned 
 with an initial success was about to place him at the 
 head of an armed insurrection. 
 
 These storms allayed, the court continued to ring 
 with the feuds of the favorites, Gregory and Alexis 
 Orlof, and Potemkin, who took turns in stirring up cabals 
 which assumed dangerous proportions. All the ambassa- 
 dors entertained their sovereigns with them, as with 
 events which exercised an immediate influence upon Rus- 
 sian politics. 
 
 One day, the Empress sent for Count Alexis Orlof, and 
 addressed him as follows : " Make friends with Potemkin. 
 See that this extraordinary man is more circumspect in 
 his conduct, more careful in the fulfilment of the duties
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 15 
 
 her travels in the Crimea, where she had seen so many 
 make-believe villages, and ephemeral foundations, wittily 
 characterized by the Emperor Joseph II. when he said, 
 " The Empress and I did a great thing this morning : 
 she laid the first stone of a city, and I the last ! " 
 
 The fairy pantomimes performed at the Hermitage 
 were the first to strike the imagination of the child, 
 who, as yet, relished neither the tragedies of Voltaire, 
 nor those of Count de Segur, then ambassador of 
 Louis XVI., nor the dramas of the Empress herself. 
 The little girl took it into her head to compose a ballet, 
 which she entitled " The Faithful Shepherdess and the 
 Fickle Shepherdess." She danced and played all its 
 scenes to her father; and he imparted to his friends 
 the extreme pleasure it had given him, a success which 
 made so deep an impression upon her childish memory, 
 that it woke a smile in advanced age. 
 
 The palace was resplendent with gilding, and brightly 
 lighted every evening ; and the slightest pretext was 
 seized upon for a sumptuous illumination. These also 
 little Sophia repeated in her play. A long gallery led 
 to the saloon of M. Soymonof, where she often aban- 
 doned herself to the enjoyment of her great dolls, and 
 her ingenious inventions. She had passed her sixtieth 
 year, when she wrote as follows : " One of the liveliest 
 pleasures of my childhood was to compose festive deco- 
 rations, which I loved to light up, and arrange upon the 
 white-marble chimney-piece of my schoolroom. The 
 ardor which I threw into designing, cutting out, and paint- 
 ing transparencies, and finding emblems and mottoes for 
 them, was something incredible. My heart beat high 
 while the preparations were in progress ; but, the moment 
 my illumination began to fade, an ineffable, devouring
 
 16 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 melancholy seized me. God, the world, all Christianity, 
 were revealed to the soul of a child ; and never has the 
 ' sic transit gloria mundi ' saddened me more than then." 
 
 One evening in the autumn of 1789, M. Soymonof, 
 when he returned to his rooms, was astonished to find 
 his gallery studded and sparkling with an innumerable 
 quantity of little candles. Being interrogated as to the 
 occasion of so grand a festival, his daughter replied, 
 " O papa ! shall we not celebrate the taking of the 
 Bastile, and the release of those poor French prisoners ? " 
 One may judge by this of the habitual tenor of the con- 
 versations in which, at that early age, the child felt an 
 interest, and bore a part. In short, the reigning fashion 
 in the north of Europe, at Berlin, at Vienna, and, above 
 all, at St. Petersburg, was to resent the abuses of power, 
 to speak warmly of the redress of all wrongs, of human 
 liberty and dignity, and of the general emancipation of 
 nations and of mind. In a moment of truly royal in- 
 spiration, Peter the Great let fall this avowal : " Ah me ! 
 I have toiled to reform my subjects, but I know not 
 how to reform myself." This noble word was yet to 
 be the motto of Catharine and her court, and of the 
 majority of the reformers of the eighteenth century. 
 
 M. Soymonof, who had all the accomplishments of 
 his time, had also all its illusions. He was generous, 
 liberal, interested in any prospect of social amelioration, 
 but oblivious of experience, Utopian in his schemes, and 
 utterly led astray by his irreligious prejudices. Under 
 these circumstances, the education of his daughter was 
 finished, and nothing neglected save the idea of a divine 
 law. 
 
 No better teaching had the Empress Catharine her- 
 self received from her father, the Prince of Anhalt. A
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 17 
 
 low-born governess had scarcely taught her to read when 
 she was taken to Russia, where the first work which fell 
 into her hands was Bayle's Dictionary, which she read 
 with avidity three times in succession in the course of 
 a few months. 
 
 At the age of fourteen, Sophia Soymonof was acquainted 
 with the Russian language, of which most of her com- 
 patriots were ignorant, spoke English and Italian with 
 as much ease and purity as French, and the German 
 correctly, and was studying Latin, Greek, and Hebrew. 
 But she knew no religious exercises save the pompous 
 spectacles of the imperial chapel, and had never called 
 upon God to bless the beginning or end of the day. Her 
 heart's instinct, the love which she bore her father, and 
 the almost maternal cares which she lavished upon her 
 young sister, born in 1792, these had been her sole 
 guides, and had sustained her in well-doing. 
 
 The attention with which the French Revolution was 
 regarded at St. Petersburg was as profound as its catas- 
 trophes had been unexpected. The Empress assumed at 
 first an angry and threatening attitude, but soon foresaw 
 the cue which covetousness and ambition might take 
 from the Revolution. In 1794, Poland was invaded anew ; 
 and Catharine was preparing an expedition against the 
 English dominion in Bengal, when death overtook her. 
 She was seized with terrible apoplexy, on the morning 
 of the 9th of November, 1796, in the midst of the 
 pleasures and projects which age had neither interrupted 
 nor abated. 
 
 The Prince who ascended the throne under the name 
 of Paul I. had been kept, until the age of forty-two, under 
 frigid and severe restraint. His mother had given him 
 no proofs of affection or confidence. The favorites, who 
 
 2
 
 18 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 in turn disputed one another's pre-eminence, found it ad- 
 vantageous to keep him out of the way. His youth wore 
 away in ennui and constraint, and he sometimes even 
 feared for his own life. The Empress, we are assured, 
 cherished the design of disinheriting her son, and sub- 
 stituting her grandson Alexander. The young Grand- 
 duke had been proclaimed Czarowitch ; and Potemkin, 
 at the same time, King of Tauride. But the horror which 
 Catharine experienced at the thought of death ; her un- 
 willingness to contemplate the future of her kingdom ; and 
 the sudden death of Potemkin, who expired by the way- 
 side, at the foot of a tree, while travelling in the Cher- 
 sonese, prevented the Empress from realizing her plan, 
 and bequeathing him to Russia in her will. 
 
 In vain had Paul pleaded with his mother for the 
 honor of commanding an army. Catharine could not 
 forget after what fashion the way to the throne had 
 more than once been opened. On one occasion only, she 
 associated him with her policy. It was when she de- 
 spatched him to Austria, Italy, and France, to strengthen 
 and draw closer the bonds of alliance with those countries. 
 When war was declared against the Turks in 1788, Paul 
 insisted on taking part in it. "All Europe," he said to 
 his mother, "knows how I desire to fight the Ottomans. 
 What will they think when they hear that I cannot do 
 it?" "They will think," replied the Empress coldly, 
 "that the Grand-duke is a dutiful son." 
 
 Paul was hi the habit of living at some distance from 
 St. Petersburg, at Gatschin, a country-seat which he had 
 by degrees converted into a kind of stronghold, flanked 
 by towers, and surrounded by moats and drawbridges. 
 His face was harsh, and almost deformed; the cartilage 
 of his nose being pressed down into his cheeks in con-
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 19 
 
 sequence of a surgical operation. After a first marriage, 
 which lasted but a year, he contracted a second with 
 the Princess Mary of Wurtemberg. The change of 
 rulers re-acted immediately upon the life of Sophia Soy- 
 monof, who was just entering upon her sixteenth year, and 
 was appointed maid of honor to the new sovereign. 
 
 The Empress Mary, under whose auspices young Sophia 
 was now to grow up, was in all respects an illustrious ex- 
 ample of amiability and high principle. Gifted with rare 
 beauty, and encompassed by seduction, she did not give 
 occasion for a single calumny. She was the mother of 
 six children, and their education was the business of her 
 life. The accession of Paul and Mary at first belied the 
 unfavorable auguries which some sagacious minds had 
 drawn from the imperious and gloomy character of the 
 Grand-duke. He displayed a touching some said an 
 ostentatious anxiety to reclaim the dishonored memory 
 of the unhappy Peter III. The Baron Ungern-Sternberg, 
 an old man of eighty, formerly aide-de-camp to his father, 
 was living in retirement and oblivion. Paul created him 
 general-in-chief, summoned him to the palace, and, turning 
 to a portrait of Peter III., whose image saw the light for 
 the first time in forty years, " I wish," he said to the old 
 man, who was affected to tears, " that your former mas- 
 ter should be witness to my remembrance of his faithful 
 friends." 
 
 The body of Peter III. had been obscurely buried in 
 the convent of St. Alexander Newski. Paul repaired 
 thither. The astonished monks conducted him to that for- 
 saken tomb ; the coffin was opened ; the Emperor kneeled 
 down, and seizing the glove, which still covered the withered 
 hand, he kissed it with emotion and respect Solemn 
 obsequies were ordained; and all who might feel their
 
 20 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 presence at the funeral ceremonies as a just and memora- 
 ble reproof were constrained to take part in them. 
 
 But formidable symptoms soon gained the ascendency 
 in Paul's character. His reprisals on his mother's reign 
 were pushed to an injurious and puerile extreme. Rings 
 which bore upon an enamel shield the date of Catharine's 
 death, had been distributed to the court so long under her 
 sway. Her son was jealous of these rings ; and, not con- 
 tent with proscribing them, he gave out others, on which 
 was engraved, " Paul is my consolation." His arrogance 
 was as alert as his jealousy. General Dumouriez, having 
 on one occasion missed the hour appointed for an inter- 
 view, excused himself by laying the blame upon a person 
 of considerable importance in the empire, whom he had 
 met. " Understand, monsieur," replied Paul, " that there 
 is no considerable personage in my house, save he with 
 whom I am conversing for the time being." 
 
 The Empress Mary controlled his fits of passion, but 
 only by dint of sweetness, humility, and patience. Ca- 
 pricious exactions, excessive fatigue, distasteful exercise, 
 she underwent with a smile. Neither prostrating heat nor 
 freezing snow interrupted their horseback rides. The 
 Emperor delighted to station her on some elevated point, 
 to serve as an aim or a landmark for military manoeuvres. 
 It was a rare thing for her to be released from this painful 
 situation short of some hours, and occasionally she was for- 
 gotten for a whole day. The serenity of her spirit was 
 never visibly altered by these things ; but Mile. Soymonof, 
 who, at a subsequent period, was to appreciate, anticipate, 
 and console so many sorrows, began even then to guess 
 the secret of deceitful prosperity and silent tears. 
 
 Under this wholesome guardianship, Sophia Soymonof 
 attained her seventeenth year. Residence at court had not
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 21 
 
 rendered her idle, and emulation had stimulated her in her 
 accomplishments. Crayon drawings of hers are still in 
 existence, which would do honor to a professional artist. 
 Her voice rich, sonorous, flexible, and of extraordinary 
 compass was trained in the scientific and affecting har- 
 monies of the North, as well as in the brilliant melodies of 
 Italy. She sang music at sight, and accompanied herself 
 upon the piano. 
 
 Her personal appearance was not remarkable ; but her 
 face, her gestures, and the accents of her voice, were en- 
 dowed with an indefinable sympathetic charm. Her blue 
 eyes were small, and slightly irregular, but lively and kind. 
 She had a piquant, Calmuck nose, and a brilliantly fresh 
 complexion. Her height was medium, her gait graceful 
 and easy, her lightest word and movement stamped alike 
 with refinement and distinction. 
 
 At an early age, she had numerous and ardent suitors. 
 M. Soymonof could not see falling around him the men 
 whom Catharine had invested with the highest offices, with- 
 out a fear that he, in his turn, might fall into disgrace. 
 He therefore made haste to insure his daughter a brilliant 
 lot in life, and, at all events, a protector. His eye fell 
 upon General Swetchine, a man who enjoyed a high repu- 
 tation, whose career had been illustrious, and who was 
 already his own personal friend. He was forty -two years 
 of age ; a tall man, of imposing presence, with a firm, 
 upright character, and a calm and kindly spirit. Sophia 
 acquiesced in this choice, as in all which emanated from 
 her father, with loving deference. She had lost her mother 
 several years before ; and what specially attracted her in 
 this union was the certainty that she would not be separ- 
 ated from her little sister, but might continue to lavish her 
 care upon her, and supply to her a mother's place.
 
 22 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 Among the Russian noblemen whose wishes this mar- 
 riage frustrated, there was a young man whose birth, for- 
 tune, and rare qualities of mind, opened to him a great 
 destiny, the Baron, afterwards Count, Strogonof. He 
 made no secret either of his preference or his disappoint- 
 ment. The wife herself could not ignore them, but she 
 forbade their expression ; and, when young Strogonof had 
 resigned himself to another marriage, Mme. Swetchine 
 became the truest and most faithful friend of his wife. 
 
 M. Soymonof's keen enjoyment of a union which prom- 
 ised such security and consolation to his declining years 
 was of short duration. The harsh mandate of the Em- 
 peror suspended him, before his daughter or his son-in-law 
 had time to intercede in his behalf. He must leave St. 
 Petersburg immediately. Moscow offered him a natural 
 and honorable asylum, and thither he went. But his bitter 
 sense of disgrace, the separation from his darling daughter, 
 and his freezing reception by a friend on whom he had 
 specially relied, plunged him in unconquerable melancholy. 
 A severe stroke of apoplexy snatched him away at a 
 moment when those who loved him were thinking only of 
 facilitating his return. 
 
 A sorrow so profound overthrew Mme. Swetchine, and 
 forced her to her knees. That first solitude of the soul ; 
 that need of a support which had never failed her, and 
 whose loss she had never faced, lifted her eyes at once to 
 heaven. Her first prayer sprang from her first trial ; and, 
 when she could no longer say " My father," she cried, k ' My 
 God ! "
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 23 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The French emigres in Russia. Their connection with Mine. Swetchine. 
 Reign of the Emperor Paul. Courageous generosity of General 
 Swetchine. His high position at court. His disgrace. Extracts 
 from Mine. Swetchine's letters. 
 
 THE military position of General Swetchine necessi- 
 tated his presence at St. Petersburg. He was soon 
 to be promoted to an active and important post. Mme. 
 Swetchine was therefore obliged to remain in the world ; 
 and she became mistress of a great mansion at a time 
 of absorbing personal sorrow. Constraint, subordination of 
 all her own impulses to the convenience of others, and sub- 
 mission to a multitude of duties morally unimportant, but 
 from a worldly point of view imperative, dated, for this 
 young woman, from the first day of her so-called indepen- 
 dence. Thus her mind, naturally inclined to precocious 
 maturity, became more and more meditative. God was the 
 constant object of her unquiet thought. She sought him, 
 appealed to him, questioned him. He was already her 
 favorite subject of study, but not, as yet, the sole treasure 
 of her heart. 
 
 The society in which she occupied, from her first appear- 
 ance, a distinguished rank, was, at that time, one of the 
 most brilliant in Europe. The French Revolution had 
 introduced into it an element rather new than foreign, 
 which appealed to the mind of Mme. Swetchine in the 
 liveliest manner. The most distinguished guests from 
 Paris and Versailles, when they sought the protection of
 
 24 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINK. 
 
 the most intrinsically despotic of governments, became 
 sometimes, unconsciously to themselves, a warning of the 
 futility and peril of many an illusion. The emigres who 
 undertook the far journey to Russia were, in general, those 
 whom the proscription had not utterly impoverished, and 
 whom Paul had known personally, when, under the name 
 of Count du Nord, he had paid a visit to France, happy 
 and proud, as yet, of the new reign of Louis XVI. and 
 Marie Antoinette. 
 
 Paul had ascended the throne between the Reign of 
 Terror and the Consulate, and considered himself bound in 
 honor to accept the challenge of the French Revolution. 
 He had offered to Louis XVIII. a royal residence in his 
 dominions. He had desired to sign the marriage contract 
 of the Duke d'Angouleme and the orphan of the Temple ; 
 and, by his orders, a copy of the act was deposited in the 
 senatorial archives. The Prince de Conde, who had enter- 
 tained the Emperor at Chantilly, was established in the 
 Hotel Tchernitchef, with a livery and table-service bearing 
 his arms. During the few days of necessary preparation, 
 the palace of the Tauride was placed at his disposal ; and 
 the grand-dukes and principal dignitaries of St. Peters- 
 burg repaired to the saloons of Potemkin to do homage to 
 a French prince in their own country, before he had him- 
 self paid his respects to the sovereign of the land. The 
 Empress had bestowed the office of dame a portrait upon 
 the Princess de Tarente, with whom the Emperor had 
 become acquainted in Paris, at the houses of her father, 
 the Duke de Chatillou, and her grandfather, the Duke de 
 la Valliere. The Duke de Richelieu and the Count de 
 Langeron received places of trust in the empire. Young 
 persons were eagerly welcomed, and placed in the army. 
 The drawing-rooms of St. Petersburg, and especially those
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 25 
 
 of General Swetchine, heard daily the announcement of 
 names which had echoed in Versailles and Trianon, 
 Broglie, Crussol, Damas, D'Autichamp, Rastignac, Torcy, 
 La Garde, La Maisonfort, Saint Priest. The Marquis de 
 Ferte, and, subsequently, the Count de Blacas, were ac- 
 credited as representatives of the King of France. 
 
 An ambassador of the Order of Malta had come to 
 salute his new Grand Master in the person of the Emperor 
 Paul. The Abbe Georgel, the old vicar-general of the 
 Cardinal de Rohan, accompanied this ambassador ; and one 
 page of his memoirs is devoted to Mme. Swetchine. It 
 will be interesting to those who knew the general; for 
 they will recognize, after a lapse of fifty years, the same 
 courtesy which distinguished him to extreme old age. The 
 Maltese ambassador had encountered some police difficulties 
 on his arrival, and had received an order to report himself 
 at daybreak at the house of the military commandant. 
 " The General," says the Abbe Georgel, " received us with 
 infinite grace and frankness, and made a thousand apolo- 
 gies ; adding, that the order to report to him so promptly 
 regarded only Russian officers, and that so severe a regu- 
 lation must give strangers a very unfavorable idea of Rus- 
 sian politeness. He took pains to inform us about the 
 maladies prevalent at St. Petersburg, indicated the pre- 
 cautions necessary to secure one's self against them, and 
 the remedies which had been used successfully in case of an 
 attack. His reception and conversation indemnified us for 
 our too early start." 
 
 The Revolution had also cast ashore at St. Petersburg 
 several eminent members of the French clergy. 
 
 The Abbe Nicolle, already celebrated as a teacher, had 
 accompanied from Constantinople to Russia the children 
 of the Count de Choiseul-Gouffier, author of the " Voyage
 
 26 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCH1NE. 
 
 Pittoresque en Grece." He was permitted to found an 
 educational institute ; summoned to his side French assist- 
 ants ; and became, in the course of a few years, the master, 
 counsellor, and friend of the young elite of St. Petersburg. 
 The Galitzin, Luboinirski Narishkin, Gargarin, Menchikof, 
 Orlof, were among his first pupils. The Duke Louis of 
 Wurtemberg intrusted his son to his care. The Jesuits, 
 whom the Empress Catharine had never consented to sac- 
 rifice to the demands of Paris or of Ferney, gathered to- 
 gether, at St. Petersburg, under the generalship of Father 
 Griiber, the debris of their French houses. Father Rosa- 
 ven, so long an object of veneration at Rome, was so at 
 that time in Russia : and when, at the age of more than 
 eighty years, he paid a last visit to his family in Brittany, 
 his remembrance of Mme. Swetchine induced him to stop 
 at Paris ; and the tender-hearted old man lingered some 
 days, on the journey from his birthplace to his tomb, with 
 the early friend of his exile. 
 
 The merit of such acts of devotion entailing voluntary 
 privations, the virtue of these brave examples came by 
 degrees to act upon the society of St. Petersburg like an 
 eloquent apostolate. One of these chivalrous apostles was 
 a man unknown to fame, M. d'Augard, an old officer 
 of the French marine. He had devoted himself to the 
 Christian life under the inspiration of Father Beauregard, 
 at the close of a sermon preached in 1776, in which the 
 preacher had declared, in prophetic words, that the axe was 
 to be lifted above the head of the king, that a sacrilegious 
 hammer would beat down the tabernacle of our altars, and 
 a pagan divinity sit in the place of the living God under 
 the consecrated vault of our temples. From that day 
 forth, religion and science shared his life between them. 
 Fifteen years later, having resolved to leave the country.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 27 
 
 he paid a final visit to Mme. Elizabeth, who had always 
 shown him peculiar kindness ; and that princess herself 
 placed in his hands a prayer of her own composition, which 
 she constantly addressed to God for the king and France. 
 The Chevalier d'Augard, recommended to the notice of 
 the Empress Catharine by so lofty a suffrage, was appointed 
 assistant director of the imperial libraries. At the same 
 time, he became one of the most intimate and constant 
 guests at the drawing-room of Mme. Swetchine. He had 
 neither the superior mental endowments, nor the religious 
 fervor, which afterwards distinguished Count de Maistre ; 
 and, in his humility, he did not aspire to ascendency: but 
 the very simplicity and essentially French grace of his 
 mind, his gayety in company, the sweet frankness with 
 which he expressed his convictions in any serious contro- 
 versy, exercised an influence all the more irresistible that 
 people did not dream of being on their guard against it. 
 He deserved, in short, that, after the lapse of thirty years, 
 Mme. Swetchine should protest, in the following words, 
 against the oblivion into which the memory of her modest 
 friend had fallen. In reply to a letter announcing the con- 
 version of a young Russian, she wrote : 
 
 "Like you, I thought of Count de Maistre, and the fine 
 solemnity of Chambery. One ought to revive his memory at 
 the accomplishment of every act like this ; for he sowed much 
 seed, though far from being the first in the field. The honor 
 of the introduction of Catholicism among the Russians belongs 
 to the Chevalier d'Augard, the old chevalier of St. Louis. 
 Not even a beginning had been made ; but when not merely 
 the execution of such a work, but even the unexpressed/ desire 
 for it, seemed absurd and impracticable, it was for the genius 
 of iaith to conceive and rely upon it. I never see a ' seventy- 
 four' without rendering a more lively and appreciative homage 
 to the canoe of the first navigator." ' 
 
 1 Letter to P. Gargarin, Sept. 19, 1844.
 
 28 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 Paul did not confine himself to the personal consolation 
 of the proscribed and impoverished servants of the French 
 monarchy, the eldest, and for so long a time the model, 
 of the European monarchies. He set on foot three armies. 
 One he threw forward into Holland, in aid of the Eng- 
 lish ; the second he despatched to Switzerland ; the third, 
 under the command of Souvarof, he opposed to McDonald 
 and Massena in Italy. It was this Souvarof, a genuine 
 Sarmatian soldier, who never slept in a bed. " I hate 
 laziness," he used to say. " I keep a cock in my tent, 
 that wakes me promptly ; and, when I want to give myself 
 up to comfortable slumber, I take off one of my spurs ; " 
 a saying often repeated in Russia, and whose application 
 Mme. Swetchine was soon to extend from military to 
 Christian heroism. 
 
 While Souvarof was conducting the Russian armies 
 into unfamiliar latitudes, and bearing away the palm of 
 victory from adversaries unaccustomed to defeat, Paul, 
 unhappily for himself and Russia, was yielding more and 
 more to the extravagant impulses of a tyrannical temper. 
 Punishment and reward were lavished in obedience to 
 the first promptings of unreflecting wrath or favoritism. 
 The places at court ordinarily reserved for the oldest 
 families in the empire were bestowed upon subalterns 
 selected from the house-servants, in whose presence he 
 felt under no restraint. At the memorable siege of 
 Bender, the Russians, urged to extreme measures by an 
 obstinate defence, had slaughtered the women and chil- 
 dren. A young Tartar moved the heart of the victors 
 by his beauty, and his childlike grace turned aside the 
 mortal blow. Prince Repna paid his ransom, and made 
 a present of him to Catharine II. ; and Catharine, in turn, 
 gave him to her son, under the name of Koutaisof. Paul
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 29 
 
 took a fancy to him, made him his favorite valet de cham- 
 bre, and the confidant, now of his pleasures, and now of 
 his murmurs against his mother. When Paul finally 
 ascended the throne, he bestowed upon him one title after 
 another, until he had raised him to the position of a Narish- 
 kin. Koutaisof flattered Paul, and everybody else flattered 
 Koutaisof. Thenceforward the imperial caprice knew no 
 bounds. One day, ukases interdicted pantaloons and frock- 
 coats ; the next, the universities were forbidden to employ 
 the word revolution in speaking of the courses of the 
 stars. Police regulations were multiplied to infinity, 
 entailing intolerable vexations. An order, posted in the 
 public squares of the capital, enjoined, that, whenever 
 the Emperor passed through the streets, whether on foot, 
 
 which was comparatively rare, or on horseback or in a 
 carriage, which was happening continually, every one 
 should stop ; descend from his carriage, if riding ; uncover, 
 take off his pelisse, and remain with bowed head while 
 His Majesty passed. A young merchant, for an involun- 
 tary transgression, was sentenced to fifty blows of the knout, 
 
 a punishment all but mortal. A young lady, known 
 and beloved at the court, saw her carriage seized by the 
 police for the same offence, and fainted. Her indignant 
 family hastened to appeal to the Emperor. Paul took 
 grave cognizance of the facts, pardoned the coachman on 
 condition of his joining the army, exempted the carriage 
 and horses from confiscation, but sentenced the young 
 lady to eight days of seclusion for her failure in decorum, 
 and administered the same corrective to an aunt who had 
 adopted her, for having taught her ill. 1 
 
 The Emperor disciplined his own family no less severely. 
 A single slip in etiquette, an irregularity in the manner 
 1 Memoirs of the Abbd Georgel.
 
 30 LIFE OF MADAME S\VETCIIINE. 
 
 of kissing the hand, drew down upon the grand-dukes 
 and grand-duchesses several days, and sometimes a week, 
 of arrest. The grand-dukes were the victims of inces- 
 sant military parades. Alexander excelled in the drill, 
 and Constantine was unequalled as a drummer. 1 
 
 An equally minute surveillance was exercised over all 
 the different army corps far and near. Officers were 
 seized without warning, thrown into sledges, and dragged 
 breathless before courts-martial, sometimes into the very 
 presence of the Emperor. Hesitancy or intimidation 
 was considered equivalent to confession, and the most 
 rigorous sentences were pronounced without appeal. One 
 day the Emperor charged General Swetchine with the 
 execution of a cruel arrest upon a certain colonel. The 
 General repaired to the parade-ground ; walked up to 
 the victim, who was already stripped to the waist; and 
 said, " Here is your sword. Now leave St. Petersburg 
 instantly ! The Emperor pardons you." Retracing his 
 steps, the General goes up to the Emperor's apartment. 
 "Sire, here is my head! I have not executed Your 
 Majesty's orders. The Colonel is free, I have restored 
 him to life and honor. Now let the blow fall on me in- 
 stead ! " The Emperor pressed the General's arm vio- 
 lently, hesitated, and said, " You have done well ! I re- 
 gretted not having spoken to the Grand-duke Alexander 
 on the subject." And he added, " Let this, at least, never 
 be known at St. Petersburg ! " 
 
 The conduct of foreign affairs was as rash and incon- 
 sequent as the internal administration of the empire. 
 Dissatisfied with the proceedings of Austria in Italy, 
 and irritated against England on the subject of the Isle 
 of Malta, Paul suddenly recalled his armies, tore up his 
 
 1 Recollections of General Swetchine.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 31 
 
 treaties, ordered the Bourbons to quit his dominions, 
 and opened negotiations with the First Consul, in which he 
 was pleased to display a chivalrous enthusiasm. There was 
 a caricature circulated in Europe at that period, repre- 
 senting the Czar bearing upon one side of his face, Order; 
 on the other, Counter-order; and on the forehead, Disorder. 
 In the midst of these sudden revolutions, from which 
 no situation or order of ideas was exempt, General Swet- 
 chine maintained his position ; and the Emperor even re- 
 doubled his favors. The General had received the post 
 of military commandant; and subsequently he was in- 
 trusted with the functions of provisional governor of 
 St. Petersburg. This last piece of preferment made him 
 either a dangerous obstacle or a necessary accomplice 
 in the case of those projects for a compulsory abdication 
 which were hatching in the shade. The General himself 
 has described one supreme event in his career, whose story 
 no one else would have had the right to furnish us : 
 
 " Of all the personages who came to congratulate me on my 
 appointment as governor-general, the Admiral 11. was the most 
 flattering in his encomiums. He came to my wife's soirees, and 
 
 succeeded in making himself conspicuous there. Count 
 
 also paid his respects to the new governor, contrary to his 
 dignified rule of visiting no one. He invited me to call on 
 him, and talk over some matters of business ; and accordingly 
 I repaired to his house at six o'clock in the evening. With the 
 exception of the porter, the mansion was empty, not a ser- 
 vant to be seen. The Count received me, candlestick in hand ; 
 apprised me that he was alone, and conducted me to a remote 
 cabinet. ' General,' said he, ' I have to acquaint you, as mili- 
 tary commandant, with a plot which has been formed against 
 the Emperor. I am its president. Mindful of the glorious 
 estate of Russia on the death of the Empress, mortified at 
 seeing her isolated from Europe, and stripped of all her alli- 
 ances, an assembly of the most distinguished individuals in 
 the nation proposes, with the countenance of England, to 
 overthrow the present violent and disgraceful government, 
 and place upon the throne the heir presumptive, the Grand-
 
 32 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 duke Alexander, whose youth and well-known sentiments 
 inspire us with high hopes. Our plan is matured ; the means 
 of execution may be relied on ; the conspirators are numerous. 
 It is proposed to invest the palace of Saint Michel as soon as 
 the Emperor shall take possession, and demand his abdication 
 in favor of his son. The Emperor will be treated as upstate 
 prisoner, confined in the fortress, and guarded with all the 
 consideration due the father of the sovereign. We cannot, 
 however, answer for the accidents which may attend the pas- 
 sage of the Neva when the ice is breaking up, and in the 
 darkness of the night. What I wish to know now is the part 
 you will take in this national crisis.' 
 
 " ' Monsieur le Comte, I do not share the opinion, that pri- 
 vate individuals possess any right to change the order of a 
 government to suit themselves. The sovereigns, or hereditary 
 chiefs of nations, are, in my view, beings who cannot abdicate. 
 A sick or imbecile king, such as we have seen in other coun- 
 tries, may properly be replaced by a council of regency ; but 
 the deaths of Charles I. and Louis XVI. were assassinations, 
 crimes of high treason. That is my opinion. My intention is 
 to play my proper part, and not change, like Harlequin in the 
 play. For the rest, give yourself no uneasiness. 1 shall not 
 abuse your confidence nor obtain emoluments for myself by a 
 mean denunciation. The law gives me the right and the means 
 of ferreting out this conspiracy for myself: I shall proceed to 
 do so. Forget what I have said, Monsieur le Comte, and pray 
 regard our interview as a dream.' 
 
 "A few davs later, Admiral R. paid me a visit, and asked 
 me this question : ' General, if the improbable contingency 
 of an insurrection should occur, and you should be forced 
 to decide one way or another, what part should you take ? ' 
 ' I should take counsel of my honor, and abide by my oath.' 
 The Admiral threw his arms about my neck, embraced me 
 cordially, and advised me to persevere in my fidelity. Two 
 days afterwards I was appointed senator, and the same evening 
 relieved of iny command." l 
 
 Shortly after the sudden disgrace of General Swet- 
 chine, Count Palken was named governor, ad interim, of 
 St. Petersburg. Paul took possession of.the palace of Saint 
 Michel, oppressed by strange visions and melancholy fore- 
 bodings. On the 12th of March, 1801, he was no more. 
 
 1 Recollections of General Swetchine.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 33 
 
 The Grand-duke Alexander, proclaimed at midnight by 
 the sombre gleam of torches and flambeaux, offered at 
 first an energetic resistance ; but the chief of the con- 
 spirators approached him, and whispered these words in 
 his ear, " You are to reign, and you shall reign ! " and the 
 Grand-duke was lifted in the arms of soldiers, and hurried 
 off to the cathedral, where the clergy and the people soon 
 assembled. 
 
 General Swetchine and wife did not, on his quitting 
 office, remove to a great distance from St. Petersburg. 
 Their estates were very remote ; and the Russian aristoc- 
 racy does not affect country life. Moscow had no charms 
 for them since the death of M. Soymonof ; and they con- 
 tinued to reside in the midst of a large circle of friends 
 whom they had chosen independently, and now retained. 
 The interchange of philosophical and literary ideas occu- 
 pied a place in their drawing-room, which was shared, but 
 never usurped, by the politics of the day, so fruitful in 
 catastrophes. Then were knit those ties whose strength was 
 yearly attested in Paris, attachments always tinged with 
 reverence, and which time had no power to weaken. From 
 that period also, Mme. Swetchine, whose health had long 
 presented some very singular phenomena, became the 
 victim of sufferings which must have broken a spirit 
 less energetic than her own. The physicians had already 
 declared that she could never know the happiness of 
 maternity ; and she sought to console herself under this 
 severe sentence, by taking redoubled pains with the edu- 
 cation of her young sister, by multiplying her affectionate 
 and respectful attentions to General Swetchine, and last, 
 but not least, by consecrating to industrious study the 
 moments unclaimed by her heart, which she always con- 
 sulted first. 
 
 3
 
 34 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 Reading with her was never a simple relaxation. She 
 had not done with a book until she had filled it with her 
 notes and comments, and, in some cases, copied it entire. 
 The earliest of these enormous masses of extracts bear 
 date in 1801, that is, in her nineteenth year, and the 
 second of her marriage. These collections are no luxu- 
 rious albums, not even volumes purposely prepared. They 
 are common paper note-books, covered with fine and close 
 writing, and afterwards bound up for the sake of pre- 
 serving and keeping them in order, as we see from 
 the lines being taken in with the binding at the back, 
 and the absence of words cut away by the paring of the 
 margins. There are thirty-five of these volumes in ex- 
 istence, besides some that have been lost. The smallest 
 are in octavo ; thirty are quarto. 
 
 Whatever of interest and emotion these books repre- 
 sent for Mme. Swetchine may, by a singular coincidence, 
 be described in the words of Count de Maistre, at that 
 time a wanderer in Switzerland, Italy, and Sardinia, who 
 was to make her acquaintance only at the last stage of 
 his protracted exile. " You see these immense volumes 
 on my table," says Count de Maistre hi his " Soirees 
 de St. Petersburg." " There, for thirty years, I have 
 noted down all the most striking things I have encoun- 
 tered hi my reading. Sometimes I confine myself to 
 simple indications, and at others I transcribe important 
 passages, word for word. Often I accompany them with 
 comments, and often also I have jotted down here those 
 instantaneous thoughts, those sudden flashes, which are 
 extinguished without fruition, if their brilliancy be not 
 fixed in writing. Swept by the storms of revolution 
 through many of the countries of Europe, I have never 
 parted with this collection ) and, now, you would scarcely
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 35 
 
 believe what enjoyment I have in reviewing it. Every 
 passage awakens a throng of interesting ideas and plain- 
 tive memories, sweeter a thousand -fold than what we 
 ordinarily call pleasures" 
 
 For Mme. Swetchine, as for M. de Maistre, these 
 voluminous extracts represent the successive stages of her 
 mind's journey ; and, under this aspect, some fragments 
 will be presented to the public. 
 
 The first volume commences with the year 1801 ; and 
 the earlier pages are devoted to Barthelemy's "Traite 
 de Morale." The precepts of Pythagoras also figure 
 largely. Bernardin de Saint Pierre comes next in order ; 
 then follow long and dolorous pages from Young's 
 "Night Thoughts." 
 
 Fenelon is represented in the first volume by a letter 
 to Mme. de Maintenon. 
 
 Short fragments of Mme. de Genlis, and some letters 
 of Micheau to the Abbe Delille, and translations from 
 Horace, are intermingled with fragments from a poem of 
 La Harpe on Woman. 
 
 A large space is devoted to Rousseau, but there is not 
 a line from Voltaire. Even before she left Russia, Mme. 
 Swetchine wrote to a young friend, " I have rarely been 
 able to read Voltaire without being painfully affected, 
 while Young's 'Night Thoughts' often leave me in an 
 agreeable frame of mind." The quotations from the 
 " Nouvelle Helo'ise " are numerous. The candid mind of 
 this young woman, which was offended by the levity and 
 smartness of Voltaire, seems to have been dazzled by 
 the pompous sentimentality of Rousseau. The Preface 
 to the " Nouvelle Helo'ise " is carefully analysed ; and the 
 apology for the moral romance, as then understood, is re- 
 produced in perfect good faith.
 
 36 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 " If romances offered to their readers only pictures of actual 
 objects, duties which it is possible to fulfil, and pleasures suited 
 to their condition, they would no longer make their readers 
 fools, but wise," &c. 
 
 The most intense pages of St. Preux to Julie are not 
 excluded. 
 
 " O Julie ! what a fatal gift of heaven it is to have a sensitive 
 soul," &c. 
 
 But it is the descriptions of nature, and the ex- 
 hortations to virtue, simple manners, and study, which 
 especially attract the sympathies of Mine. Swetchine to 
 Rousseau. 
 
 " O my friend ! what an argument against the sceptic is the 
 life of the true Christian ! " &c. 
 
 Side by side with Rousseau, we find Marmontel. " Beli- 
 saire " had enjoyed a great popularity throughout Europe, 
 but particularly in Russia. Speaking of some of the in- 
 cidents which preceded the publication of his work, Mar- 
 montel says, in his " Memoirs," " I dreaded allusions, 
 malicious applications, and the accusation of having had 
 in my mind another than Justinian when I portrayed a 
 weak and wicked monarch. The King of Prussia felt 
 it so much, that, on the reception of the work, he wrote 
 with his own hand, at the foot of a letter of his Secre- 
 tary Lecat, ' I have just read the opening chapters of 
 your " Belisaire : " you are a bold man.' But," adds 
 Marmontel, " while the Sorbonne condemned my book, 
 letters reached me on all hands from the sovereigns of 
 Europe, and her wisest and most illustrious men, full 
 of encomiums on the volume, which they declared ought 
 to become the breviary of kings. The Empress translated
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 37 
 
 it into Russian, and dedicated the translation to an arch- 
 bishop of her own country." The " Be"lisaire " of Mar- 
 rnontel, therefore, figures largely among Mme. Swetchine's 
 readings. 
 
 But there is no lack of satire ; and we get glimpses 
 of the excesses and eccentricities of the eighteenth cen- 
 tury. After that description of Maupertuis by himself, 
 '' I am as pale as death, and as sad as life," we find the 
 following portrait of Fontenelle : 
 
 " M. de Fontenelle took cognizance of nothing but mind. 
 He had no vices, and consequently no battle to fight. He never 
 laughed. One day I said to him, ' M. de Fontenelle, did you 
 ever laugh ? ' ' No : I never executed an ah ! ah ! ah ! ' That 
 was his idea of laughter. He only smiled at fine things, and 
 never knew what it was to feel. He received no impressions 
 from others. He never interrupted anybody, but waited at- 
 tentively till his interlocutor had finished, and was in no hurry 
 about his reply. If you had brought an accusation against 
 him, he would have heard you all day without saying a word. 
 From his birth up, nothing had ever moved him. He resembled 
 some very delicate little machine which will last for ever, if 
 placed in a corner where it cannot be rubbed or jostled. It 
 is to his absolute apathy that his long life must be attributed. 
 His mother was like him. He speaks of both his parents with 
 the same indifference. He used to say, ' My lather was a 
 brute, but my mother had mind. She was a quietist ; a sweet 
 little woman, who used often to say to me, " My son, you will 
 be damned : " but it did not trouble her.' Fontenelle never 
 raised his voice on any occasion whatever, and did not speak in 
 a earriage, for fear he should be obliged to do so. He disliked 
 music, and did not care for painting or sculpture except in 
 their relations to the imagination. He loved no one. People 
 pleased him ; but the word ' love ' he never pronounced. ' Do 
 you esteem me ? ' Mme. Geoffrin once asked him. ' I think you 
 are very agreeable.' 'But what if some one should come 
 and tell you that I had cut one of my children's throats, 
 should you believe him ? ' 'I should reserve my judg- 
 ment.' " 
 
 " It was said of Diderot, that he often liked to converse 
 with the most commonplace people, because they would listen 
 to him. He was like a man playing ball against a wall,
 
 38 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 who exclaims at each rebound, ' That wall plays remarkably 
 well! 1 " 
 
 "A correspondent of Ferney once said, 'I have just re- 
 ceived a delightful letter from Voltaire. Let me read you 
 my reply ! ' " 
 
 "Mine. Deffaud, having made up her mind to reform, 
 wrote, 'As for rouge and President He"nault, I shall not do 
 them the honor of forsaking them.' The President, on the 
 other hand, said, just after his conversion, ' I am in process 
 of bringing all my sins to light for the purpose of getting rid of 
 them. We never know how rich we are till we break up 
 housekeeping ! ' " 
 
 " Mme. Geoffrin claimed that, having always been up with 
 the spirit of her age, her years and her tastes had kept pace, 
 like two perfectly matched horses." 
 
 " Voltaire cared very little for the country ; and it was wittily 
 said of his ' Henriade,' that there was just grass enough in it 
 for the horses." 
 
 " Tallien once had the audacity to say to the Assembly, 
 ' When we are alone with the people.' So artificial had life 
 become ! One man met another, and asked him, ' Well, what 
 do you think of all this ? ' ' What do I think ? I hardly dare 
 be silent ! ' " 
 
 " Somebody, struck with the change that the two first years 
 of the Revolution had wrought in the political opinions of 
 Alfieri, asked him to explain it. ' Ah ! ' said he, ' I knew the 
 great ; but I did not know the little ! ' ' : 
 
 The last traces of the eighteenth century, under its 
 spirituelle and literary aspect, linger in the " Souvenirs " 
 of Mme. Necker. Mme. Swetchine borrows largely from 
 them : 
 
 " M. Borda was a distinguished seaman and traveller, and 
 a great favorite in Mme. Necker's circle. The story was told 
 in his presence, that Streunse'e, at his examination, had made 
 some admissions which compromised the Queen of Denmark. 
 M. Borda replied instantly, ' A Frenchman would have told 
 everybody of that, but he would have admitted it to nobody.' " 
 
 " M. Dubucq, who has left a brilliant record of his adminis- 
 tration in our colonies, once said, ' The gibbet is a species of 
 flattery to the human race. Three or four persons are hung, 
 from time to time, for the sake of making the rest believe that 
 they are virtuous.' "
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCIIINE. 39 
 
 ' ' Those persons who never speak till they can make a hit 
 are insufferable. They oblige you to till up the embroidery 
 of which they will only do the flowers." 
 
 " The man who is most inferior to us as a whole is our 
 superior in some one particular. In conversing with him, 
 therefore, we must choose those subjects on which he has the 
 advantage, that we may derive some benefit from our inter- 
 course with him." 
 
 " To receive a visit is always to run a risk. We are not 
 obliged to please the persons whom we do see ; but, when 
 they are our guests, they must be treated with favor, considera- 
 tion, and patience." 
 
 " We must never assume an authoritative air in society, 
 nor exhibit any change of countenance in disputing with those 
 who are not of our mind. Conversation is an arena where a 
 race is to be won, and that with the swiftness of Atalanta ; but 
 it is allowable to arrest our adversary only with apples of gold. 
 Self-love will forgive weighty and even severe objections in 
 a t6te-a-t6te ; but it never overlooks a too serious lace or ex- 
 pressions of disapproval in public." 
 
 " M. Thomas said that an expressionless face is born deaf 
 and dumb." 
 
 "'They blame you;' 'They accuse you; 1 'They say of 
 you' last, but not least, 'They will say 1 Who, then, is this 
 King They, whose authority is thus proclaimed ? It is a king 
 without state, splendor, or visible throne ; yet all obey his voice, 
 and tremble before him. A remarkable king in this respect, 
 that he is sovereign in small matters as well as in great." 
 
 This portrait of King They is from Mme. Necker's 
 own hand. She had a perfect right to speak of him ; for 
 she had known him well. 
 
 Vers de Societe were so fashionable at that epoch, that 
 of course we find some traces of them in Mme. Swet- 
 chine's volumes. Very few deserve to survive the occasion 
 which called them forth. Perhaps, however, we ought 
 to except the following apologue of Count Elzear de 
 Sabran, whose charming old age is fresh in the memory 
 of many, and who, in his turn, recalled the grace and re- 
 finement of the Chevalier de Boufflers, the second husband 
 of his mother, Countess de Sabran :
 
 40 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 BONHETO ET MALHECR. 
 
 Bonheur et Malheur sont deux fibres, 
 
 Qui furent toujours ennemis. 
 Fortune et Ilasard sont leurs peres, 
 
 Que 1'on vit toujours fort amis. 
 Malheur, a la mine pauvrette, 
 
 Ne fut jamais trop bien traite"; 
 Bonheur, d'une beaute 1 parfaite, 
 
 Fut de chacun 1'enfant gate\ 
 
 Bonheur veut un parti sortable, 
 
 Kiche dot, et bonne maison ; 
 Malheur se sentait moins aiiuable, 
 
 II eut moins de pretention. 
 Bonheur, e'pousant 1'Inconstance, 
 
 Se trouva bientot malheureux; 
 Malheur e"pousa 1'E.spe'rance, 
 
 Et finit par se croire heureux. 
 
 The second volume of Mme. Swetchine's selections is 
 dated on the 12th of December, 1803. Her reading, for 
 the most part, embraces a more connected and lofty order 
 of ideas. Duclos is occasionally found side by side with 
 Pascal ; but Pascal and Massillon have the preference. 
 
 Some one expressed surprise that she should read so 
 carefully Mercier's " Tableau de Paris," and would have 
 demonstrated to her the weakness of the work. Mme. 
 Swetchine interrupted him with the remark : " Since I 
 am to read every thing, what matters it where I begin ? " 
 
 Religious questions, Mme. Swetchine already investi- 
 gated thoroughly: 
 
 " Other religions, as the pa^an, are more popular than the 
 Christian : they consist wholly in externals, but they are not 
 for people of ability. A purely intellectual religion would 
 answer for the gifted, but it would be useless to the mass of 
 men. Christianity alone is adapted to all." Pascal. 
 
 After a passage from Father Bridaine, we read : 
 
 " St. Vincent de Paul was very drowsy on the day of his 
 death ; and, one of his friends having expressed some anxiety 
 about his constant slumber, he replied, ' It is the brother 
 coming before the sister.'"
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCIIINE. 41 
 
 La Harpe re-appears, but La Harpe outraged by the 
 excesses of the age whose enthusiasm he had shared : 
 
 " Senseless destroyers ! you shouted ' Victory,' and where 
 is your victory now ? You were in a chronic rage at the 
 wealth with which our temples abounded. They are rich no 
 longer, but they are sacred still. They are stripped, but they 
 are frequented. Pomp has vanished, but worship remains. 
 They are no longer crowded with marbles and precious tapes- 
 tries ; but men bow there, and weep over the ruin. Sacrifice 
 is poorly apparelled ; but adoration is deep, and piety pure." 
 
 " Common sense enjoins on the irreligious, instead of think- 
 ing to interrogate God, to think how they will one day answer 
 him." 
 
 "Our self-love can be resigned to the sacrifice of every 
 thing but itself." 
 
 Then follow several pages consecrated to the prepara- 
 tion for, and acceptance of, death : 
 
 "A friendship will be young after the lapse of a century. 
 A passion is old at the end of three months." Vigee. 
 
 " Plato once gave a sumptuous feast. Diogenes, when he 
 entered the house, had to walk over a superb carpet. ' I am 
 treading under foot the pride of Plato,' said he. ' Yes,' re- 
 plied Plato, 'with the pride of Diogenes.'" 
 
 Over a fragment from " Zimmermann on Solitude," Mme. 
 Swetchine has written, in pencil, " What a blunder in the 
 translator to have put fierte for orgueil!" 
 
 The letters of Count de Valmont ; Barruel's " Histo- 
 ire de Jacobin isme ; " " Paul and Virginia," Bourdaloue, 
 M. Laya, the Marquise de Lambert ; some poems of 
 Ducis, and the "Jour des Morts" of Lemiere, occupy the 
 third volume, in which Bossuet appears for the first time. 
 Italian sonnets abound. German and Russian have also 
 a place. The third volume closes with a long analysis of 
 the principles of the Lycurgean legislation. 
 
 The fourth volume bears the date of 1806. It is filled 
 with the romances of Mme. Cottin, the sermons of the 
 Abbe Poule, and English and Italian poems.
 
 42 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 The fifth volume opens with long extracts from Mme. 
 de StaeTs "Delphine." And here, for the first time, 
 Mme. Swetchine interrupts her citations, and speaks some- 
 what at length in her proper person : 
 
 " If these extracts were destined for any other eye than 
 mine, I should hesitate about copying any portion of this letter, 
 in which 'Delphine' unfolds opinions so unlike my own. Thej 
 might well scandalize the least devout, while those who are 
 most indulgent to me would find them shockingly incongruous, 
 and no one would appreciate my motive. But since I am 
 collecting these scattered materials for my sole behoof, and 
 consequently have no malicious interpretations to dread, I 
 have thought it right to allow myself to insert a fragment 
 which seems to me full of sensibility, warmth, and life ; con- 
 tent to add, by way of forestalling any false judgment which 
 the oblivion of the past might lead me to pronounce upon my- 
 self at the advanced age when I shall review this collection, 
 that, since my eyes first opened to the light of truth, my con- 
 victions on this important point have never wavered." 
 
 And beneath these lines, which are written with ink, 
 we find in pencil : 
 
 "To-day, on the 5th of May, 1831, at the age of fifty-one 
 years and five months, I bear witness, with a smile at my old 
 scruples, that, in the twenty-eight years which have elapsed 
 since then, my faith has been growing ever stronger and 
 clearer ; that the slightest doubt has never arisen within me ; 
 and that, firmly fixed on the great basis of Christianity, I have 
 never wavered except to become, in the bosom of the Catholic 
 Church, more of a Christian than ever." 
 
 After the fragment from " Delphine," we read : 
 
 " Before God can deliver us from ourselves, we must unde- 
 ceive ourselves." Saint Augustine. 
 
 " Perfection easily endures the imperfection of others. God 
 lets remain, in the most advanced souls, certain weaknesses 
 disproportionate to their high estate, as they leave mounds 
 of earth which they call landmarks (tkmoins) in a piece of 
 ground which has been levelled, to show how deep the work 
 of man's hands has gone. So God leaves, in great souls, land- 
 marks or remnants of the wretchedness he has removed."
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 43 
 
 " The soul has no secret which the conduct does not reveal." 
 (/ think this is from the Chinese.') 
 
 " The Frenchman is that naughty child whom the mother 
 of Du Guesclin characterized as the one who is always beating 
 the others." 
 
 " If I have made out a case for science, it gives me the right 
 to demand silence when I speak of religion." Leibnitz. 
 
 "When any one has offended me, I try to raise my soul 
 so high that the offence cannot reach it." Descartes. 
 
 " It is of no use to be angry with things ; for our wrath can- 
 not harm them in the least." Marcus Aurelius. 
 
 " The celebrated Morgagni once let fall his scalpel in the 
 midst of a dissection, and exclaimed, ' Oh, if I could only love 
 God as well as I know him ! ' " 
 
 " My poor," said Boerhaave, " are my best patients. God 
 pays for them."
 
 44 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER IIL 
 
 Accession of the Emperor Alexander. Arrival of the Count de Maistre 
 at St. Petersburg. Adoption of young Nadine Staeline. Works of 
 charity, and correspondence with Alexander Tourguenief. Marriage 
 of the Princess Gargarin. Earliest letters to Mile. Koxaudra 
 Stourdza. 
 
 ECCENTRIC as was the reign of the Emperor Paul, 
 he left behind him one memorable and salutary enact- 
 ment, the re-establishment of the direct and legitimate 
 order of succession to the throne, which was promulgated 
 the day he took his oath. His capricious and violent 
 measures were speedily forgotten, and the advent of Alex- 
 ander I. was hailed with enthusiasm. 
 
 His grandmother, Catharine, whose partiality had been 
 undisguised, had married him, when he was barely twenty 
 years old, to the young and beautiful Princess Louise of 
 Baden, who, on embracing the Greek religion, assumed the 
 name of Elizabeth. 
 
 Imposing in stature and bearing, with a winning face, 
 sweet and gentle manners, and a degree of polish which 
 sometimes amounted to affectation, generous and enthu- 
 siastic, Alexander possessed, in about an equal degree, 
 the qualities which captivate the masses, and those which 
 attract earnest minds. His tutor, Cesar de la Harpe, born 
 in the canton of Vaud, was a republican by persuasion, as 
 well as by birth, and began by inspiring Alexander with 
 an ardent desire to make terms with the French Revolu- 
 tion, whereof he himself was ever the open partisan.
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCIIINE. 45 
 
 One of Alexander's first acts, therefore, when he as- 
 cended the throne, at the age of twenty-seven, was to 
 repair to Memel, and confer with William III., King of 
 Prussia, with the hope of interesting him in some plan 
 for a definite reconciliation with France. At Riga the 
 inhabitants detached the horses from his carriage, and drew 
 him through the streets ; and a German naval captain 
 burst through the crowd, shouting, " Let my eyes behold 
 the Emperor of Peace ! " 
 
 The aged Klopstock, who interpreted the sentiment of 
 Germany, wrote an ode in honor of " the tutelary saint 
 of humanity." As a trifling indication of the intellectual 
 direction which he proposed to give his reign, Alexan- 
 der showed himself less strenuous than his father about 
 costumes and military drill. He conversed with the civil 
 functionaries, and voluntarily adopted the manners of a 
 simple private gentleman. On great review-days only, 
 which were rare and solemn occasions, he appeared in a 
 brilliant uniform, and surrounded by a numerous cortege. 
 It used to be said of him, at this period, " He is the court- 
 ier who least frequents the court." 
 
 " Who would have guessed the nature of our disputes ? " 
 writes Napoleon, in the " Memorial de Sainte-Helene." 
 " He used to maintain that hereditary power was an abuse 
 in government ; and I have had to employ all my logic and 
 eloquence to convince him, that in this same hereditary 
 power lay the peace and happiness of a people. Perhaps 
 he was mystifying me, after all : for he is subtle, treacher- 
 ous, and adroit. He is a man of ability." 
 
 Alexander shared the cares of empire with certain 
 young persons of his own age, whom the malecontents of 
 the new regime stigmatized as the coterie of " young men 
 of mind." The individuals who incurred this odd re-
 
 46 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 proach were Count Strogonof, whose name has already 
 been mentioned in connection with his early preference 
 for Sophia Soymonof; Prince Kotchoubei ; Prince Adam 
 Czartoryski, a noble and faithful representative of Poland ; 
 and M. Novossiltzof. The national writer, Karamzin, was 
 also intimate with the Emperor Alexander ; but it was 
 in the character of an historiographer. The old annals 
 of Russia, her hopes, and her future, formed the subject of 
 their disinterested and high-minded intercourse. Finally, 
 Speranski, the son of a priest in the Greek Church, and 
 the first example of an illustrious career in that class, a 
 learned lawyer, and a man of strong and systematic mind 
 and fascinating conversational gifts, exercised a daily in- 
 creasing influence over the mind of Alexander in favor 
 of European ideas and institutions. Such a change of 
 regime appeared to the inhabitants of St. Petersburg like 
 a renewal of the atmosphere, we might almost say a 
 revolution in climate. No one enjoyed it more keenly 
 than Mme. Swetchine. From the time of Alexander's 
 accession, she was at ease, and breathed freely, at least 
 in the sphere of conversation and intimate intercourse; 
 yet neither General Swetchine nor herself endeavored to 
 regain place at court. The general's was naturally an 
 indifferent character ; and he was, as one could see at a 
 glance, totally destitute of ambition. Mme. Swetchine 
 was full of ardor and power ; but her energy was ex- 
 pended on moral activities, and she made no concessions 
 to the pomps or the slavery of human grandeur. Her 
 sole tie to the imperial court was a grateful devotion to 
 the Empress Mary. But the widow of Paul I. had made 
 haste to escape the theatre of politics, which had proved 
 so tragic a one for her. At Pawlovvski she created for 
 herself an existence apart. A library rich in rare edi-
 
 LIFE OF BfADAME 8WETCIIIXK. 47 
 
 tions and new publications ; mahogany tables loaded with 
 drawings and medals ; collections of cameos and precious 
 stones, engraved by her own hands, indicated at a glance 
 the serious nature of her employments. Every year the 
 shut herself up in the vicinity of her husband's tomb, to 
 offer up prayers to God for him, and attest before men 
 her religious remembrance. She kept with her, in the 
 character of a friend, the Countess Lieven, who had had 
 charge of the early instruction of her children. She also 
 took pleasure in superintending the various benevolent 
 institutions of St. Petersburg. The Baroness d'Adelberg, 
 lady-superior of a convent similar to the celebrated foun- 
 dation of Mme. Maintenon for young people of indigent 
 families, having fallen ill on one occasion, the empress took 
 her place, and fulfilled her duties until her recovery. 
 
 To these influences, which wrought so happily on Mme. 
 Swetchine, was finally added another, the most powerful 
 and decisive of them all, the arrival of Count de Maistre. 
 
 M. de Maistre was a man whose practice never con- 
 tradicted his theory. His virtue had all the simplicity, 
 purity, and elevation of his ideas. The ambassador of an 
 unfortunate king, he thought only of concealing, by dint 
 of personal privations and intrepid pride, the poverty 
 which he shared with his master. The plenipotentiary's 
 repast often consisted only of a piece of bread and a glass 
 of water ; but, even at this price, the carriage and foot- 
 man, indispensable to the dignity of his mission, were 
 always retained. The generous zeal of this " Caleb " of 
 diplomacy could not escape Russian perspicacity ; but, 
 while the Emperor Alexander and his ministers were 
 lavish of their attentions, he was exposed, at times, to 
 offensive attacks from the second-rate men who sur- 
 rounded the king. Mediocrity, totally unable to appiv-
 
 48 LIFE OF MADAME SWKTCHINE. 
 
 ciate an elevated range of view and purpose, unable even 
 to comprehend the language in which you answer it, lends 
 a ready ear to shabby intrigues and base suspicions. But 
 M. de Maistre was not of the number of those to whom 
 may be applied the words of Scripture, " Prophesy not 
 unto us right things : speak unto us smooth things ; 
 prophesy deceits." Nothing could shake his devotion or 
 conquer his sincerity. With him frankness was the truest 
 measure of love. Addressing himself, alternately, aloud 
 to the people and in whispers to the king, he said to each, 
 not what he presumed might be agreeable, but what he 
 judged would be useful. Both were for a long time un- 
 grateful. Justice is a plant of slow growth, but it grows ; 
 and God, who, unlike men, despises nothing, has caused 
 even the malice of his enemies to redound to the glory of 
 Count de Maistre. 1 
 
 The illustrious author of the " Soirees de St. Peters- 
 burg " was accredited at the court of Russia in the spring 
 of 1803. He was then forty-nine years old. His " Con- 
 siderations sur la Revolution Franchise " had already 
 brought him into public notice ; already his eagle eye had 
 pierced below the surface ; already he had written, " Let 
 
 1 See the work recently published by M. Albert Blanc, under the title 
 of '' Memoires I'olitiques et Correspondence Diplomatique de J. de 
 Maistre." This publication, evidently dictated by a spirit hostile to 
 Catholicism, and consequently to Count de Maistre, is, in the end, ad- 
 vantageous to both. If, in the abandwn and presumed secrecy of a private 
 correspondence, the language sometimes transgresses the bounds of 
 propriety, the sentiment is always so thoroughly pious and so profoundly 
 intelligent, that, after the perusal, we honor M. de Maistre more than 
 ever, and feel an increased respect for ourselves in that we share with 
 him such large and strong convictions. I trust that the comparison with 
 Caleb will not seem disrespectful. Aside from his menial position, the 
 aged servitor of the Kavenswooils is certainly one of the most touching 
 and poetic of Walter Scott's creations.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 49 
 
 us have the courage to avow it: we long failed to com- 
 prehend the Revolution, of which we are a standing proof. 
 We took it for an event, but we were mistaken : it was an 
 epoch." l 
 
 M. de Maistre and Mme. Swetchine, thus providentially 
 brought together, were not long in divining, spite of the 
 disparity in their ages and antecedents, the congeniality 
 of their souls. Their connection began by a mutual attrac- 
 tion ; but the woman's mind was in no respect subjugated. 
 Slow to embrace the observances of a positive religion, 
 Mme. Swetchine, at that period, professed Russian Ortho- 
 doxy. Nevertheless, her mind, familiar with the great 
 intellects of all lands and ages, watched modern contro- 
 versies keenly ; and her researches were then tending in 
 the direction of German philosophy. With Pascal, Des- 
 cartes, and Leibnitz, it had been her desire to compare 
 Kant, Fichte, and Hegel. A young German professor, 
 Raupach, who had come to Russia for a private education, 
 had established himself at St. Petersburg, and was develop- 
 ing, in his brilliant conversation, the philosophical prin- 
 ciples and the wealth of imagination which were sub- 
 sequently to render his name famous in Germany. Of 
 him Mme. Swetchine saw much. Moreover, the innate 
 independence of her nature revolted against what she 
 then called the absolute dogmatism of Count de Maistre ; 
 and when, at last, she gave her friend the unspeakable joy 
 of her conversion, it was by other methods than those 
 which he had indicated that she came to touch the solid 
 earth, and plant her foot upon truth. 
 
 However prominent the place that study and intel- 
 lectual interests occupied in the daily life of Mme. Swet- 
 
 1 Funeral Oration of Eugene de Costa. 
 4
 
 50 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHIXE. 
 
 chine, they never sufficed her. The tender cares lavished 
 on her young sister stimulated without exhausting her 
 maternal instinct; and she soon resolved to undertake a 
 new charge. General Swetchine had promised to act 
 a father's part to a child who bore the name of Nadine 
 Staeline. Mme. Swetchine, so far from being disturbed 
 by this project, associated herself with it. She welcomed 
 little Nadine, who knew no other home and no other care 
 than that of this second mother. 
 
 At the same time, her inexhaustible need of helping 
 and loving sustained itself by an active, constant, daily 
 supervision of the poor. The Empress Elizabeth joined 
 the Empress Mary in works of benevolence ; and educa- 
 tional and charitable institutions multiplied under their 
 patronage. Mme. Swetchine contributed her share to this 
 movement, and was soon constrained to rise from the rank 
 of a simple co-adjutor to that of an authoritative directress. 
 Doubtless she was unconsciously rendering herself worthy 
 of the works of grace which were afterwards to take effect 
 in her: her character was developing, strengthening, and 
 gaining in solidity, where before she had been only bril- 
 liant. At the age of twenty-five, she was invaluable to all 
 her friends, and her friends were of all ages, enthu- 
 siastic in study, modest in thought, gay and demonstrative 
 in intimate intercourse, grave and collected in her hours 
 of meditation. Her natural level was high ; but she was 
 sincerely condescending to shyness and humility, and ten- 
 derly affectionate with the poor, the afflicted, and the 
 penitent. Her word was weighty, her advice sought; 
 and the best possible evidence of the beautiful unity of 
 all the phases of hej existence may be found in a few care- 
 less, unimportant, undated notes of hers, addressed to one 
 of her fellow-laborers in good works. What description
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 51 
 
 could equal, in fidelity of resemblance, these brief lines, 
 written so hurriedly that they are scarcely legible, and in 
 which she unconsciously portrays herself struggling with 
 ill-health, and reconciling, without confusion or mutual 
 encroachment, the laborious duties of her private life with 
 the cares of her life of charity, such, in a word, as we 
 ourselves knew her in the exquisite perfection of her 
 maturity and her old age ! 
 
 This correspondence, small fragments of which are 
 here introduced, is addressed to Alexander Tourguenief, 
 the eldest of three brothers, men of great merit, and united 
 by the most touching affection. Their father, a provincial 
 governor, was connected with the famous Prince Repnin, 
 the leader of the sect of the Martinists in Moscow, and 
 had inspired his sons with some spiritualistic tendencies, 
 which always continued to animate them. 1 Alexander 
 Tourguenief, at the time when his relations with Mme. 
 Swetchine commenced, was filling an important place in 
 the ministry of public instruction and worship under 
 Prince Galitzin. There are in existence at least three hun- 
 dred billets of a similar nature to those that follow ; and 
 they would of themselves suffice to give one a fair idea 
 of the writer's activity of mind and heart : 
 
 Please, my dear Tourguenief, excuse me to our ladies. 
 I cannot go to the meeting this morning ; and it is the less 
 inconvenient for me to remain away, as I have no petition to 
 present. Do me the favor of obtaining the matron's memo- 
 randa, that is to say, the names and lodgings of those to 
 whom board is furnished. We have, in all, thirty roubles a 
 month. This month the poor people have not made applica- 
 tion, and I do not know how to dispose of it. If there happens 
 to be no meeting, please let me know. 
 
 Pardon me for giving you so much trouble. It is written 
 that I shall never cease to do so ; and this necessity I shall 
 
 1 Private History of Russia, by Schnitzler, vol. ii. p. 62.
 
 52 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 not call fatality, like the Turks, but predestination, like a true 
 Jansenist. 
 
 The Countess . . . has received no further communication 
 from a certain individual. Could you not, with your accustomed 
 kindness, hasten the progress of her affair ? She is in a state of 
 actual agony. Patience does wear out, like every thing else ; and 
 we, poor mortals, are not rich in any thing. Good-morning. 
 
 Wednesday. 
 
 The bearer of this is an honest man, named Zilbrecht. He 
 is extremely poor, and as such has received some slight assist- 
 ance from the philanthropic committee. He would like a situ- 
 ation ; but, as he does not know German, I fancy it will be quite 
 difficult for him to obtain one : and it seemed to me that you 
 were the only person who could indicate to him the means of 
 success, if success be possible. 
 
 You must remember the merchant Hiedapol. His wife 
 remained here ; and she finds herself very much annoyed by the 
 police, who will not renew her permission to reside in St. 
 Petersburg, and insist on her departure : would you not be so 
 kind as to explain to M. Gorgoli, that these people are not 
 vagrants ? Her husband is well known to the .Empress Eliza- 
 beth, her children are under her protection, and the woman 
 herself under the care of a physician in Her Majesty's pay. 
 A thousand pardons for the trouble I am always giving you ; 
 but the truth is, when there is a good turn to be done, you are 
 the first person that occurs to one's mind. 
 
 Thursday evening. 
 
 It is very gratifying that you would fain believe me omni- 
 present, like the superior intelligences ; and I myself rega-t 
 that I have never yet succeeded in being in more than O'ie 
 place at a time. I never felt the inconvenience of this state of 
 things so much as to-day, when you paid me a visit, positive'v 
 knowing that I was somewhere else. Depend upon it, if divi- 
 nation answered me instead of knowledge, this should never 
 have happened. 
 
 However, I shall not confine myself to bantering a man 
 as amiable and obliging as yourself. I feel bound also to tor- 
 ment him. Consequently, I beg that you will come and see me 
 to-morrow morning, whenever you can spare me an hour. 
 
 I very much want a Bible witli parallel columns in ancient 
 and modern Greek ; and you will confer a great pleasure by 
 procuring one at your earliest convenience. What you tell me
 
 V 
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 53 
 
 of M. . . . confirms my instinctive suspicions. I must confess 
 that I have no taste for hazardous proceedings ; and I firmly 
 believe, that, when a thing is useless, it is no longer matter of 
 indifference, but positively harmful. I am much more mortified 
 at the idea of foregoing five hundred roubles from the govern- 
 ment of Toula ; but, where we are not satisfied, we must submit. 
 Good-morning, my dear confidant in all my official anxieties. 
 
 Monday. 
 
 You cannot imagine how earnestly they are asking at 
 Moscow for Polish and Italian Bibles. Have you not some 
 which contain versions in these two languages in parallel 
 columns? I have no alternative in this matter but to apply 
 to the distributor, whose complaisance is worthy of the most 
 high-flown of Oriental encomiums. 
 
 Will you be so kind as to borrow for me two requests 
 which I presented at the last meeting? They were from two 
 peasants to whom we allowed five hundred roubles ; but, as 
 they have not yet come for the money, I want to know where 
 they lodge. The place is marked on the requests, which I will 
 immediately return. I hope to see you this evening. 
 
 Friday. 
 
 Wilt you be so kind, my dear Tourguenief, as to ask 
 M. Sayger to send me Viller's book on the Influence of the 
 Reformation ? I would like it this minute : but, as soon as I 
 have obtained the information I want, I will return it ; and I beg 
 that he will keep it as long as he desires. 
 
 Do not forget, either, to give me Philaretus' ' book, and to 
 send me the Princess Alexis'.* May I keep Goethe ? and will 
 
 1 Archbishop of Moscow. It is customary to designate simply by 
 their baptismal name the dignitaries of the Russian Church. 
 
 2 Princess Alexis Galitzin, we Countess Protasof. She had married 
 Prince Alexis Galitzin, grandson of the field-marshal to whom Russia 
 owes the victory of Pultowa. She became a widow in 1600, and was 
 one of the first Russians who embraced Catholicism. Her sisters, Coun- 
 tess Rastopchine and Protasof, and the Princess Vasiltchikof, soon fol- 
 lowed her example. She ha>l, moreover, the happiness of winning to the 
 true faith her eldest son, Prince Peter; and her daughter, who died in 
 America, a nun of the Sacred Heart. The Princess Galitzin was all the 
 nearer to Mine. Swetchine in that she was bound by so many ties to
 
 54 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 you not add the " Kleine Prosaische Schriften " of Schiller, one 
 volume of which I already have ? Pray refuse, if you need 
 them ever so little. Permit me also to borrow your Miiller. 
 I want to take a few notes from it ; but I will not keep it long. 
 
 Thursday. 
 
 You relieve me of embarrassment, my dear friend, even 
 when you cannot come to my assistance. Could you not obtain 
 a courier for Moscow? I have a multitude of packages to 
 send, and I cannot avail myself of to-day's messenger. I have 
 barely come back to life ; and the sufferings of yesterday have 
 left me in an indescribable state. I would like to be soothed 
 to sleep by Arabian tales. It is the literature of a people still 
 in its infancy, and I assure you that I have returned to mine. 
 I have just learned that the invitation is for six o'clock. Nothing 
 could be more inopportune. So Ouvarof ' wants every thing 
 of a piece, and no European element in the meeting. I shall 
 assuredly attack him on this point. 
 
 Friday. 
 
 You were here yesterday, my dear and good Tourguenief ; 
 but I had not forgotten, before they told me, that it was an 
 enormous while since I had seen you. I shall be invisible another 
 week, but not to you, whom I naturally associate, not with a 
 system of privation, but with all that is needful to repose of 
 heart and mind. 
 
 Sunday morning. 
 
 There was a calm and serious tone about your yesterday's 
 letter, which touched me peculiarly. It was like an impulse to 
 prayer in one who habitually consults his reason. May God 
 
 Count de Maistre ; and the two ladies corresponded constantly till the time 
 of the Princess's death, which took place at St. Petersburg, on the 28th of 
 October, 1842. But, though strict iu the observances of the Catholic faith, 
 she maintained in society and the court the rank which her birth, her 
 intellect, and her virtues awarded her. Like M. de Maistre, she liked to 
 preserve her impressions in writing, and has left several manuscript vol- 
 umes, whose publication may one day furnish fresh proof of the fact, that 
 religious sentiments, so far from extinguishing patriotism, purify and 
 strengthen it. 
 
 1 Head-clerk of the Minister of Public Instruction, and subsequently 
 Prince Galitzin's successor.
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCIIINE. 55 
 
 preserve you, dear friend ! There is the material for ten good 
 men in your head and heart ; and your first idea and dearest 
 desire must needs be to do the work of those ten men in 
 
 Tuesday. 
 
 I was sure that you would be affected by Countess N.'s 
 letter. I think it needs but a single revelation of character to 
 assure us of an individual's capabilities. Tell M. Muralt, that 
 nothing could suit me better than the hours he can give me. 
 Charge him not to put it off later than Thursday. I should 
 have wanted him to-day, were I not, for the greatest wonder 
 in the world, going to the theatre. It seems like going back 
 to my childhood, for I am to be carried ; and that, I think, will 
 amuse me. 
 
 Saturday. 
 
 I am tired of seeing you with so many people about. 
 Please come to-morrow morning, at whatever hour suits you. 
 My doors will be closed to everybody else. Till to-morrow, 
 then, dear friend. 
 
 Saturday. 
 
 Here is your paper, my friend. Believe me, in religion as in 
 politics, it is a bad plan to wish to remain neutral, and belong 
 to no party. In a purely intellectual sphere, this may answer; 
 but, when thought is to be wrought into action, we ought to 
 know exactly where to classify it. Try to be at M. Karamzin's 
 early. I dine with the Princess Alexis ; and immediately after- 
 wards, that is, about half-past six, I shall go to Mme. 
 Mouraviefs, and thence to M. Karamzin's. 
 
 Sunday. 
 
 Here, my dear friend, are all the books I have had from you ; 
 viz., four volumes of Herder, two of Klopstock, and three 
 of Mu'ller. You must allow me to keep Butterwerk, the 
 volume on ./Esthetics. I have removed the marginal notes from 
 the others ; but, in this case, it would oblige me to recommence 
 a preparatory labor. Graef has promised to get it for me in a 
 few days. 
 
 Monday morning. 
 
 MY DEAR TOURGUENIEP, Fischer speaks, in one of his 
 letters, of a man named Hausen, a German and Moravian,
 
 56 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 who is settled in Astracan, whence he has made several journeys 
 into Persia. Engaged at first, it may be, in mercantile pur- 
 suits, he conceived a passion for botany on his travels, and has 
 collected specimens of all the most interesting plants and grains 
 which he could find. At present, he is extremely anxious to 
 resume his travels, with the same end in view. Several indi- 
 viduals among others, Count Alexis Razoumoiski have pro- 
 vided him with the pecuniary means ; and all he now needs is 
 such facilities as might be derived from the recommendations 
 he would like to take with him. My husband has written to 
 the Governor of Astracan, whom we know ; and I, too, have just 
 despatched a letter to Mazorowitch. But Fischer charged me to 
 ask Ouvarof for a letter for Abas Mirza ; and you would do me 
 a great favor by procuring it for him. I trust it will not incon- 
 venience him ; and countenance of this sort, in some shape or 
 other, cannot fail to be useful to Hausen. If you think of any 
 other way in which we might serve him, let me know. One is 
 always glad to encourage disinterested scientific effort ; and it 
 is a still greater pleasure to contribute to the happiness of a 
 wise man, who is so far from being exacting on has own ac- 
 count. 
 
 Tuesday, half-past three. 
 
 Do not come this evening, my dear friend ; for I am going out. 
 I have had a fancy not to see you this morning. I am ready 
 for you at all moments ; and, as to days, I need not say, only 
 to-day is perhaps one of the least favorable. I imagine that 
 these congratulations were only invented to console the people 
 who were never congratulated on any thing else. Come to- 
 morrow, dear friend. You know that 1 ask and obtain this per- 
 petually. 
 
 Making no distinction of nationality, or of faith in needy 
 cases, exhausting all the resources of her own gene- 
 rosity before calling on that of others, Mme. Swetchine 
 was always discreet and prudent in her appeals. This 
 character of universality and circumspection about her 
 benevolence is especially conspicuous in the following bil- 
 lets: 
 
 Tuesday. 
 
 The poor woman who will hand you this, my dear martyr, has 
 met with losses whose amount is stated by M. Romanof, gov-
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCIIIXK. 57 
 
 crnor of Witepsk, in the accompanying paper. She came so 
 late that she obtained nothing from the great collection. Prince 
 Galitzin and Countess Kotchoubei are interested in her case, 
 but can do nothing. Her husband is sick ; she has two chil- 
 dren ; and her intention is to return to Witepsk, having no 
 means of subsistence here. We voted her two hundred 
 roubles, out of our poverty, at the last meeting ; but this is in- 
 sufficient for the transportation of herself and her children, 
 and to meet the indispensable preparatory expense. If you 
 could obtain two or three hundred roubles for her, it would be 
 charity well applied, as I have taken care to ascertain from M. 
 Wassiltchikof and the Countess Kotchoubei. I have made a 
 rough estimate of the requisite sum, rather in the fear that 
 I should get too much than too little. What I know of the 
 generosity of the Countess Strogonof makes me fear an excess. 
 I am sure that this sum will take her to her province ; and that 
 any thing more belongs, of right, to those who are poorer than 
 she. 
 
 The woman is a Jewess. I conceive this to be no objection, 
 and that true charity will make no distinction between suffering 
 Samaria and Jerusalem. 
 
 Thursday. 
 
 Count de Maistre has written, requesting me to mention to 
 you a poor Polish woman, named Zazeski, in whom we were 
 disposed to feel interested. M. de Maistre did not know her 
 particularly, and only recommends assisting her on condition 
 that the preliminary information which you obtain corresponds 
 with what he has heard of her. 
 
 Forgive me, my dear Tourguenief, for ever returning to the 
 charge, and making such constant demands on your indefati- 
 gable goodness. 
 
 Sunday morning. 
 
 MY DEAR TOURGUENIEF,* The unfortunate mother who 
 here solicits some aid from Her Majesty has been, for a long 
 time, supported by the Patriotic Society, whose enforced inaction 
 leaves her in absolute want. She has decided to return to her 
 province, where she hopes to find an asylum ; but she has no 
 means wherewith to prosecute her journey, and hence she has 
 had recourse to the unbounded charity of the Empress. As I 
 am distrustful of a generosity which so often leads her to over- 
 step the bounds of strict utility, please inform Mine. Longuinof 
 that one hundred roubles will be quite enough. I know that it
 
 58 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 is extremely improper for me thus to limit the amount : so, pray, 
 keep my secret, but insinuate adroitly something approximat- 
 ing to the sum. I am actually jealous for these consecrated 
 riches ; and, even in a case of necessity, I scruple to covet 
 them. 
 
 Saturday morning. 
 
 MY DEAR TOURGUEXIEF, Will you do me a great favor 
 by suggesting some method of procuring a situation for a little 
 girl nine or ten years of age, of whom I have taken charge, 
 and about -whose condition I would like to feel at ease ? Could 
 not one, by paying her board, obtain her admission into the 
 House of Industry ? I know of no one but yourself who could 
 afford me, in this emergency, the information and assistance 
 needful to the success of the plan I have fixed on. Take pity 
 on my embarrassment, and relieve me of it by some good 
 advice. 
 
 Friday, June 30. 
 
 I return the note to M. Goucharewski, trusting it will act as 
 a reminder of the interest you promised to take in procuring a 
 place for my poor dear little girl. You have given me so 
 many proofs of friendship, that, without hesitating for an instant 
 for fear this should be the last, I can assure you it will make me 
 more grateful than ever. Please, if you experience any diffi- 
 culty, try to get her received at my expense. I am anxious 
 that the child should do as well as possible. By " well," I mean 
 only that she shall have a safe asylum, and an education suita- 
 ble to her station, which shall one day insure her a subsistence. 
 The more simple that education, and the more strictly confined 
 to manual employments, the better I shall like it. 
 
 When you write, be so good as to tell me what the prospect 
 is for her. It will set my mind at rest. 
 
 While these various cares occupied the mind of Mme. 
 Swetchine, a new tie was binding her to St. Petersburg. 
 This was the marriage of her sister to Prince Gregory 
 Gargarin, a young, distinguished, brilliant man, who had 
 already achieved success in many different lines, and was 
 high in favor at the court. 
 
 A friendship which remained paramount with Mme.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 59 
 
 Swetchine as long as she lived also originated at about 
 this time. Mile. Roxandra Stourdza, afterwards Countess 
 Edling, was also residing with her parents at St. Peters- 
 burg. The Stourdza, a family of Greek origin, and owning 
 considerable property in Moldavia, had emigrated, with 
 their children, after the Treaty of Jassy, in 1791, sacrific- 
 ing their hereditary interests and influence to invoke the 
 protection of a Christian power. 1 
 
 M. and Mme. Stourdza received a distinguished welcome 
 from the Empress Catharine ; and one of their daughters, 
 Roxandra Stourdza, born at Constantinople, on the 12th 
 of October, 1786, was appointed maid of honor to the 
 Empress Elizabeth as soon as she had attained her six- 
 teenth year. The affection and confidence which she soon 
 won from this princess attracted to the young girl the notice 
 of superior minds. Count de Maistre came to share 
 their intimacy ; and some words of his will help us to a 
 better understanding of the friend of Mme. Swetchine and 
 the companion of the empress, who received, by courtesy, 
 the title of madame : 
 
 MADAME, I must be wholly destitute of persuasive tal- 
 ents, if the homage I render to your merit does not occupy a 
 prominent place among the things which you do not feel at lib- 
 erty to doubt. I have never wavered, in this article of my 
 faith, since the happy moment of my entrance into Greece.* 
 
 How can I describe my joy and relief at the tidings brought 
 me by your amiable friend about your honored father ? My 
 pleasure is proportionate to the pain which the contrary an- 
 nouncement caused me. I was upon thorns, seeing the 
 
 1 The family of Stourdza has furnished two hospodars to Moldavia. 
 Jean Stourdza was invested with this office in 1822, and reigned till 1826. 
 Prince Michel Stourdza, destined by Russia for the hospodarate, received 
 the investiture of the Porte in 1834; and retired, in 1849, on the consum- 
 mation of the deed of Balta Le'mani. The fathers of Prince Michel 
 Stourdza and the Countess Edling were brothers. 
 
 3 M. de Maistre means his introduction to the Stourdza family.
 
 60 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 sword suspended above my excellent Roxandra's head, without 
 knowing where to go for further information. Mine. Swetchine 
 was so kind as as to send me, without the least delay, the more 
 favorable news, which doubtless she received from you. But 
 you were wanting there. No one should be ill at your house 
 when you are absent. I wanted, and I did not want, to write. 
 I wanted, and I did not want, to go to Tzarskoe Selo. 1 I wrote 
 to Mine. Swetchine, and waited, with extreme impatience, for 
 her reply. It came, and was favorable. Instantly, at seven 
 o'clock in the morning, I hastened to mingle my congratula- 
 tions with those of our mutual friend, who had shared all my 
 distress. What a miserable world! trouble if we love, and 
 trouble if we do not love : a few drops of honey, as Chateau- 
 briand says, in a cup of wormwood, " The rod, my child ! it is 
 for thy good ! " " Much obliged, but I prefer sugar." 
 
 Rodolphe de Maistre having been admitted into the 
 Russian military service, M. de Maistre thus expresses his 
 anxieties to Mile. Stourdza : 
 
 " Since your departure, my soul has been busy with misfor- 
 tunes. My son has left me. I see our excellent friend, Mme. 
 Swetchine, as often as possible. She understands me, and 
 comforts me very much ; and I need it sadly. 
 
 " When shall we have you to ourselves again, my dear and 
 esteemed friend ? and when shall we have another chat around 
 that table where the tea is only a form ? 
 
 " Our good friend Sophia is the same as when you left her; 
 that is, good and lovable to the last degree, but without any 
 fixed principles about her health. I cannot tell you how this 
 sort of disposition vexes me. At the first glance, she appears 
 perfectly well, and one can never feel sure about her. It is her 
 sole deception. Still, she is better than little Nadine, who ap- 
 pears to me to have made very bad progress. They call her 
 Better ; but I have not much confidence in it. I am sensible 
 how necessary her sweet companionship is to the excellent lady ; 
 and, if things take an unfavorable turn, as they may, it will be 
 a terrible blow to her." 
 
 The letters of Count de Maistre have already revived 
 the memory of the Countess Edling. Those of Mme. 
 
 1 A palace about five leagues from St. Petersburg, the favorite summer 
 residence of the imperial family.
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 61 
 
 Swetchine will suffice to clothe her name with an undying 
 interest. 
 
 This precious correspondence will give us a picture, not 
 merely of Mme. Swetchirie's life at that period, but of her 
 inner self, of the unconstrained workings of her mind 
 and heart : 
 
 " If I did not fear a silent reproof (these are the only ones 
 I fear), I should tell you that my heart is absorbed by regrets 
 at our separation ; and that, since Monday, every moment at 
 my own disposal has been replete with the emptiness left by 
 your absence. One may not consult one's personal interest, 
 but it is very difficult to hush its voice entirely. Yet my eyes 
 and head are so weary with the light and din that reign at 
 Kameni Ostrof, that I delight to think of you among your beau- 
 tiful, shady alleys, where I, with my uncivilized nature, should 
 ask only a little more solitude. I should like this residence of 
 Tzarskoe Selo extravagantly, if there were fewer people here, 
 and on condition that you were one of them. The more I think 
 of it, the more analogy I discover between my situation and 
 purgatory. Our recollections will preserve all their pristine 
 force : love, prayer, suffering, and hope will make up the lives 
 of the inhabitants, all except ennui, of which life has more ; 
 and this inclines the balance considerably in favor of purga- 
 tory. 
 
 " Speaking of prayer, I never knew so many circumstances 
 to unite in disposing me to it as on the occasion of the con- 
 secration of Prince Galitzin's chapel, which I attended this 
 morning. I thought much of you, my friend, and regretted 
 that you were not there. I have never witnessed a more 
 magical effect, the graceful form of the chapel, which is 
 decorated with simple elegance ; the mellow, golden light 
 with which it was irradiated : the melodious voices, issuing one 
 knew not whence ; the quiet pomp of the service, Philaretus 
 in the midst of it all ; the assembly of three hundred persons ; 
 the silence which piety demands and maintains ; in short, my 
 friend, a species of actual enchantment, whose remembrance 
 even now transports me. Ah, how such situations favor medi- 
 tation ! I actually thought myself alone, and only recovered 
 from this illusion to enjoy the sight of so many persons, differ- 
 ing widely among themselves, but absorbed for one moment in 
 a sentiment common to all. It is only religious thoughts which 
 can produce this effect ; and it is always wonderful. The very
 
 62 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 words which stir to their depths the souls of the simple and 
 ignorant denizens of the desert seemed to-day to fix the at- 
 tention of frivolous spirits, and excite emotion in the enervated, 
 and perhaps tainted, souls of creatures intoxicated by pros- 
 perity." 
 
 Among those who will one day kneel in the chapel of 
 Mme. Swetchine, none will have read without emotion the 
 lines in which she foreshadows and describes, so many 
 years beforehand, what she herself was yet to realize at 
 Paris. It is her inexhaustible charity which is illustrated 
 by the next letter : 
 
 MY DEAR ROXAXDRA, We have had, this morning, a 
 stormy meeting, which distressed me, and will long continue to 
 do so. The Countess Orlof had set her heart upon having 
 Mme. daC. received in her place when she goes to England. 
 She applied to me, and I told her that all I could do would be 
 to propose her name. After sounding our ladies, one by one, 
 I found that they were horrified at the idea of admitting among 
 them Mme. de C., with her very doubtful reputation. Yes- 
 terday, at the close of the meeting, Mme. Orlof pressed the 
 point, and, in spite my entreaties, would have it put to vote. 
 It was rejected by an almost unanimous negative, and the 
 most unpleasant reasons adduced ; and all my precautions have 
 been unavailing to shield Mine, de C. from the humiliation 
 which she owes entirely to Mme. Orlofs obstinacy. How true 
 it is, that a malicious enemy is better than a clumsy friend ! I 
 am far from condemning the ladies who opposed the proposi- 
 tion ; I agree with them about the desirability of maintaining 
 order in our establishment ; but I must confess, dear Roxan- 
 dra, that, if these scenes occurred often, they would go far to 
 disgust me with it. Besides, I cannot strike one in the face in 
 this way. I believe I am capable of sufficient zeal and strict- 
 ness : but when it comes to publishing so unfavorable an opinion, 
 and making parade of one's severity ; to crushing any woman, 
 or causing her to blush, however just it may be, and however 
 much one's duty, I feel that I am incapable of it. The tiling 
 surpasses my firmness. You can judge how all this suits my 
 love of peace, which is such that I have always suspected that 
 the soul of the Abbe" de St. Pierre had passed into mine by 
 means of metempsychosis.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCIIINE. G3 
 
 At that period, Mme. Swetchine was enjoying a great 
 deal in her family relations. The Princess Gargarin was 
 residing at St. Petersburg. The two sisters lived apart, but 
 indemnified themselves for their separation by renting a 
 country-house together through the summer, when the two 
 households were united, either on the isles of the Neva, 
 or in the vicinity of Peterhof and Tzarskoe Selo. In the 
 course of a few years, the Princess Gargarin had five sons. 
 The two eldest were the objects of Mme. Swetchine's 
 especial partiality, though all were tenderly loved. " They 
 are all my nephews," she used to say ; " but the two first 
 ones are my children." She joined in their plays and 
 their lessons, and watched with delight the development 
 of their young intellects. Remarking the extreme defer- 
 ence which Princess Gargarin's second son, Eugene, paid 
 to his elder brother, Gregory, she said of him, " He even 
 tries not to grow, for fear of outstripping his brother." 
 The children, for their part, confounded mother and aunt, 
 and were impatient of any thing which kept the latter 
 away from them. Mme. Swetchine was sometimes obliged 
 to lock herself into her room, in order to pursue her be- 
 loved studies in peace. The little boys then armed them- 
 selves with their noisiest playthings, collected outside her 
 door, and made all the disturbance in their power, to in- 
 duce their aunt to desist. Many a time, Mme. Swetchine 
 yielded to this uproarious summons ; sometimes, however, 
 she remained inflexible ; but, the moment she unlocked her 
 door, the children forced an entrance, sure of being re- 
 ceived, not with chiding, but with smiles and kisses. 
 
 This sweet family life lasted till 1811. At that time, 
 General Swetchine petitioned to return to active service ; 
 and, while he went to meet the French, Mme. Swetchine 
 retired to her estates in the provinces of Nijni and Sara-
 
 64 LIFE OP MADAME STVETCHINE. 
 
 tof. At the same time, another woman, pursued by the 
 hostility of Napoleon, fled from Vienna, crossed Poland, 
 and reached St. Petersburg by way of Kiew and Moscow. 
 Even Petersburg was not the limit of that long journey, 
 which constitutes, together with " Corinne," the eloquent 
 Odyssey entitled " Ten Years in Exile." Mme. de Stael 
 believed herself secure only in Stockholm ; and when Mme. 
 Swetchine returned to the habitual centre of her existence, 
 she found there only a brilliant memory. 
 
 The meeting which she regretted having missed, and 
 which the two would equally have appreciated, was re- 
 served for Paris.
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 65 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Invasion of Eussia by the Emperor Napoleon. Mme. Swetchine is ap- 
 pointed president of the Soldiers' Aid Society. Letter to the Abbe" 
 Nicolle. Correspondence with Mile. Stourdza during the years 1813 
 and 1814. 
 
 THE sentiment of duty was always so strong with 
 Mme. Swetchine, that patriotism could hold no 
 secondary place in her soul. The time at which she 
 lived, and, still more, her deliberate convictions, inclined 
 her to that order of ideas which awards to one's country 
 the right of demanding every sacrifice, and which recog- 
 nizes in the sovereign the natural centre of all patriotic 
 regard, affection, and devotion. 
 
 As soon as Russia was menaced by France, the Em- 
 peror Alexander put the finishing touch to the enthusiasm 
 of his subjects, by taking the head of his army in person, 
 and associating, in a few words, simply and nobly spoken, 
 the cause of his crown with the cause of the people and 
 of justice. " I will be with you," he said, in his first proc- 
 lamation to the Russian nation, " I will be with you, and 
 God will be against the aggressor." <* 
 
 The military courage of Alexander was proved equal to 
 his political ability. In the midst of a warm engagement, 
 the General, Prince Wittgenstein, sent one of his aids to 
 the Emperor to beg him to be less reckless of his life ; add- 
 ing, that his presence deprived him of the coolness neces- 
 sary to military operations. The bullet which cost Gen- 
 
 5
 
 CG LIFE OF MADAME SAVETCHINE. 
 
 eral Moreau his life, before Dresden, covered Alexander 
 with dust. 
 
 The humane feelings of the Emperor, which had always 
 been lively and sincere, were conspicuously manifested dur- 
 ing this war, so disastrous to both the contending parties. 
 He visited the French and Russian wounded, without dis- 
 tinction, as they lay upon the frozen ground. More than 
 once he shed tears, as he listened to cries of anguish 
 and last adieus, uttered in every European tongue. All 
 the soldiers who could be moved were collected in the 
 hospitals ; but there again they were decimated by epidemic 
 diseases. The Duke of Oldenburg, brother-in-law to the 
 Emperor, was seized with typhus, and died. It was no 
 check upon Alexander, nor could any representation pre- 
 vail over his desire to superintend and relieve the cares 
 necessitated by so much suffering. In order to render his 
 oversight more efficient, he was careful to preserve a strict 
 incognito. One day, when he was telling the Cpuntess de 
 Choiseul of the care he had been taking of a poor Spanish 
 prisoner, the lady asked him if it was true that he had 
 been recognized on his visit to the hospital. " Yes," he 
 answered simply, " in the officers' room ; but generally 
 they take me for one of General St. Priest's aides-de- 
 camp." 1 
 
 Such examples fire the heart of a nation ; and all Rus- 
 sia desired to emulate the Emperor Alexander in relieving 
 the countless victims of the war. A ladies' society, for 
 investigation and distribution, was organized at St. Peters- 
 burg, under the patronage of the Empress Elizabeth. The 
 most distinguished ladies hastened to join it, moved by the 
 spontaneous impulse which animated rich and poor, lord 
 
 Memoires de M. de Choiseul, p. 161.
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 07 
 
 and peasant, merchant and soldier. Mme. Swetchine was 
 chosen president. She was then thirty years of age. 
 
 We find evidence of her activity, and of the value already 
 set upon a few of her words, in a letter preserved among 
 the papers, and afterwards among the posthumous effects, of 
 the Abbe Nicolle. The latter, justly affected by the suffer- 
 ings of his adopted country, had desired to give her some 
 proof of his gratitude ; but he did not forget that he was 
 a Frenchman. He thought to reconcile conflicting duties 
 by sending anonymously to the Aid Society the sum of 
 three thousand roubles. This delicate precaution could 
 not deceive a delicacy equal to his own ; and Mme. Swet- 
 chiue wrote him as follows : 
 
 MONSIEUR L'ABBE, I will only say, that I recognize 
 you. Perhaps this simple expression may fail to convey to you 
 an idea of my personal gratitude ; but I should have been mor- 
 tified to be obliged to learn what I so easily divined. Even if 
 Prince Galitzin had not soon betrayed you by exhibiting the 
 pleasure one always has in revealing the author of a good ac- 
 tion, the incognito in which you shrouded yourself would not 
 have served you. Do not, however, attribute this to my pene- 
 tration, but to that public opinion which ever does you homage : 
 for several of our ladies had the same thought ; and, the moment 
 it was expressed, others shared it. So you can see whether or 
 no it was in our power to respect your wishes, and keep the 
 matter secret. 
 
 The south of Russia had recently been ravaged by the 
 plague. The Abbe Nicolle seconded the Duke de Riche- 
 lieu in his noble charitable labors, as well as in his attempts 
 to civilize the people. They have both been seen, with 
 their mattocks, going from the houses of the infected to the 
 cemetery, to dig, with their own hands, the graves of the 
 dead. " Odessa owes her life twice over to the Duke de 
 Richelieu," such was the cry of Russia, sweet for a 
 Frenchman to repeat. Mine. Swetchine closes her letter 
 as follows :
 
 68 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 " I know that no place of residence can be as pleasant to 
 you as Odessa. There you find at once repose and activity, 
 constant and agreeable society, and, what must still more at- 
 tach you to the place, the certainty of being useful. But may 
 you not be so everywhere ? And if a clear sky and a fine cli- 
 mate are a source of daily enjoyment, the South pays dearly lor 
 it in the plague which has desolated her so long. The personal 
 interest which makes me so earnest for your return exaggerates 
 to my mind the dangers to which you may still be exposed ; and, 
 when anxiety about pestilence is added to the regrets of friend- 
 ship, I know of no arguments strong enough to combat them. 
 Try to come back to us soon. Have you not here, as well as 
 there, books and friends ? " ' 
 
 M. de Maistre, whom we always love to see beside 
 Mme. Swetchine, wrote, at the same time, to the Abbe 
 Nicolle : 
 
 Aug. 13, 1813. 
 
 A pestilence is one of the most searching of sermons ; and 
 one need not be constituted like you to derive great spiritual 
 profit from such a scene. It distresses me to think of you as 
 undergoing so cruel an experience ; and I am no less anxious 
 about M. de Richelieu, who has found, in this scourge, an oppor- 
 tunity of showing himself, not only better than others, but bet- 
 ter, if possible, than himself. What a trial ! What exertions ! 
 Thank God, it is over ! 
 
 The wave of invasion had spent itself in Russia ; but 
 events outside had only advanced from one crisis to an- 
 other. 
 
 In 1813, the Emperor moved his head-quarters to 
 Germany. It had been the wish of the Empress to ac- 
 company him, but she had not carried her point ; and 
 Alexander's indifference was thought to have had more to 
 do with his refusal than the embarrassments of war. Her 
 Majesty was obliged to be content to follow her husband's 
 march at a distance ; and she repaired successively to Riga, 
 
 i See the Life of the Abbe" Nicolle, by the Abbe" Frappat.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 69 
 
 to Weimar (whose grand-duchess was Alexander's sister), 
 to Berlin, and to the other German capitals, in the line of 
 military events. Mme. Swetchine's friend, Mile. Stourdza, 
 accompanied the Empress on this long and painful journey. 
 The letters of Mile. Stourdza to Mme. Swetchine are no 
 longer in existence. Those of the latter have been pi- 
 ously preserved, and they suffice to admit us to the souls 
 of these two friends. They are marked by infallible 
 rectitude, and constant elevation of judgment. We see in 
 them the development and the growth of steadfastness, 
 breadth of view and disinterestedness, and are struck with 
 respectful astonishment, as we follow these two women, 
 step by step, in their intimacy. Young, brilliant, connected 
 with all that has ever been most sounding and seductive in 
 human affairs, they drew therefrom only grave lessons in 
 politics and morality, and aspired only to impassioned 
 friendship, philanthropy, or solitude. The letters bear no 
 date ; but the facts to which they allude refer them in- 
 contestably to the close of 1812, and to the year follow- 
 ing: 
 
 Tuesday evening. 
 
 Your note, my friend, was not the cause of my incurable 
 regrets ; but it intensified them. I was not expecting it : the 
 address was in an unfamiliar hand ; and when I opened it, and 
 recognized your writing, it seemed as if I had never lost you, 
 but was even then experiencing the agony of parting. To feel 
 grief intensely, one must needs have been a long time happy, 
 or supposed one's self so ; for, in a colorless existence, one but 
 passes into a deeper shadow, through almost imperceptible di- 
 minutions of light. Doubtless, my love will be a consolation to 
 you : I am sure of it; but that word " consolation " is so sad, 
 when it has any meaning at all, that I would rather you found 
 my friendship a superfluity amid other more worthy and pre- 
 cious boons. 1 am often surprised to find myself envying those 
 whose impressions are light and variable. The sponge passes 
 over the slate, and leaves no trace ; and perhaps it is the fittest 
 type of the nature of man, whose pleasures are for a moment, 
 while his pains are for a lifetime. If he have but moral dignity !
 
 70 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 But you are not the one to rest satisfied without it. So try to 
 submit to your destiny. It is an eternal one. I think of noth- 
 ing but your sufferings. The state of your health troubles me 
 exceedingly. How have you borne the severe cold which has 
 prevailed since you left ? I am awaiting your letter from Riga 
 with indescribable impatience. I am confined to my room ; and 
 tlio twenty-five or thirty degrees of cold of the last few days 
 have increased my habitual chronic ills at least twofold. What 
 effect must they produce upon you, with your impaired health? 
 I am convinced that the inhabitants of the North will have noth- 
 ing but an inferno of ice. Fire, in any shape, would be wel- 
 come to them. Tell me particularly of your health, and take 
 the utmost care of it. Dilate upon the measures you have 
 taken. Whatever interest you may feel in your own preserva- 
 tion, others feel yet more ; and what would be a piece of 
 egotism in many people will be specially benevolent in you. 
 
 I am writing in great haste. If you will believe it, I have 
 scarely had a moment to myself since you left. I feel keenly 
 that movement is not diversion ; and that one unchanging idea 
 may dominate over all the cares which share one's life between 
 them, but cannot fill it. Adieu, my friend. How many times 
 already has that word filled my heart with bitterness ! The head 
 of Medusa is no exaggerated image. I trust your health will 
 improve. Seek help of God ; use your strength without abus- 
 ing it ; and, when the conflict becomes too unequal, abandon 
 it, and ask divine grace. 
 
 My husband, who has conceived a strong liking for you, 
 charges me, as does also Nadine, to present his respects. 
 Adieu, once more, dear friend. I cannot bear to close this let- 
 ter. As if a paltry piece of paper could give back to me the 
 joy of your presence ! 
 
 While I was at our estate, which was a perfect limbo, 
 Count de Maistre thought he did a prodigious thing to send me 
 a short letter, or rather a long note, every month or six weeks. 
 You had been gone but three weeks wanting two days, when he 
 mentioned having written to you ; and, shortly after, he sends 
 you an immense packet : and who knows if the quality be not 
 more outrageous than the quantity ? The song says, - 
 
 " Sans un petit brin d'amonr, 1 
 Oil s'ennuie meme a la cour." 
 
 I do wish you would add this to your other sources of enjoy- 
 ment, and then you would experience to the full the persecu- 
 
 Without a little spice of love, it is tedious even at court.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 71 
 
 tions of prosperity. Only do not rob the poor of their pittance, 
 and let all have their share. Mine, last evening, was a very 
 pleasant one. M. de Maistre eame. 1 was slightly indisposed, 
 and he took pity on me. Hence more sleep, more dogmas, and 
 a good deal of kindly indulgence. We laughed ; we chatted ; 
 took turns in telling stories ; and retired, contented with our- 
 selves and the world. . . . 
 
 The armistice 1 at first shut the mouths of all the boy-prophets. 
 They hung their heads, and (bided their wings, to think they had 
 not foreseen the great event. Since then, however, they have 
 regained their inspired and threatening tone; and I perceive 
 that nothing is harder than to disconcert a fabricator of hy- 
 potheses. There is an English piece called "All in the Wrong ; " 
 and a clever man remarked to me, that Europe in general 
 seemed to be playing this comedy, in which all the dramatis 
 personce, from first to last, are involved in a series of blun- 
 ders. My soul is too weak long to endure the activity of hope 
 in any matter. Conversely, when everybody is desponding, the 
 very uncertainty and instability of events afford me some con- 
 solation. 
 
 Thursday. 
 
 What are we to think of the extension of the armistice? 
 They say the news is contained in a letter from Lord Cathcart. 
 On the other hand, it is claimed that the Emperor's commands 
 to Prince Gortshakof are of quite another tenor. Meanwhile, 
 a reliable man, lately from Moscow, tells me that the first ti- 
 dings of the armistice which has just expired were received with 
 unmixed consternation, and that those who were beginning to 
 rebuild suspended operations. 
 
 Monday, 26th. 
 
 I confess that I am beginning to be seriously sick of my pri- 
 vations, and that an interesting grief is a thing I can no longer 
 imagine. As we advance in life, the circle of our pains en- 
 larges, while that of our pleasures contracts ; and, among the 
 latter, I know of none more alluring than a sweet and confiden- 
 tial converse which begins with an interchange of ideas, and 
 ends with one of sentiments, a seemingly accidental com- 
 munion, which, when earnest, is among the best gifts of Provi- 
 dence. All this I have found in our intercourse, and particularly 
 in that part of it to which you allude. It is a long time, dear, 
 
 1 This fixes the date of this letter at the commencement of 1813.
 
 72 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 since I have experienced such genuine comfort. Believe me, 
 we never know any persons perfectly, save those whom we di- 
 vine at first sight. A thorough mutual understanding; the 
 power of penetrating into all the recesses of another's being, 
 and attaining that perfect acquaintance which lays his whole soul 
 open to our eyes, these are dependent upon a sort of analogy 
 of character, a likeness in dissimilarity. It always seems to me 
 as if souls sought one another in the chaos of the world, like 
 those kindred elements which have a tendency to re-unite. 
 They come in contact ; they feel that they agree ; and confidence 
 is established between them, often without their being able to 
 assign any valid cause. Reason and reflection come afterward ; 
 place upon the treaty the seal of their approbation ; and think 
 it is all their work, like those subordinate ministers who take 
 credit for their master's transactions, for no better reason than 
 that they have been permitted to sign their names thereto. No : 
 I fear no mistakes with you ; and only the fulness of my recog- 
 nition can equal the perfect confidence with which you inspire 
 me. . . . 
 
 We have had two days of the liveliest anxiety, due simply and 
 solely to the vagueness and mystery in which they shroud the 
 news, which is not so alarming now that all is known. But 
 here, as elsewhere, I suppose, there is a vast number of people 
 who oscillate between the predictions of Jeremiah and the in- 
 credulity of Thomas. Certainly, for one's own peace and that 
 of others, one ought to take different examples from Scripture. 
 It is droll enough, that people will not learn even to doubt with 
 diffidence ; but it is not the first time that scepticism has found 
 itself dogmatic. Intolerance in politics is carried farther than 
 ever. Woe to him who speaks, and woe to him who is silent ! 
 Woe to him who suspends his condemnation, and woe to him 
 who does not overdo his praise ! There are two or three sto- 
 ries current here about eagles floating and soaring above the 
 Marshal's ' remains. I know of no more successful fable since 
 the days of Herodotus, whom you are reading. It is very well 
 to say that man has need of faith. He has another need also ; 
 namely, to aim unceasingly at a higher degree of folly than 
 has been assigned him. 
 
 Count de Maistre came to see me yesterday ; but I was not 
 in, and therefore could not acquit myself of your commission. 
 He misses you ; and I need not tell you, dear, whether or no 
 
 l Marshal Koutouzof died at Bunzlau on the 10th of May, 1813. His 
 body was solemnly transported to Russia; and the people pretended that 
 an eagle constantly hovered above his coffin during the funeral march.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 73 
 
 this is a new point of contact between him and me. I wish my 
 friendship for him made him fond of my society ; but he must 
 needs have yours in connection with it. With both of us, he 
 appeared content. He seemed to say, like Peter upon Tabor, 
 " It is good to be here." How heartily would I, too, say it, if 
 I were with you ! Rudolf 1 goes to-day, or rather to-morrow. 
 When I know that he is fairly gone, I shall get the Princess 
 Alexis to visit his father with me, and use every effort to dis- 
 tract his mind from his sorrow, in the only way in which I 
 conceive such distraction to be possible ; that is, by sharing it. 
 
 Thursday evening. 
 
 If you were not away, my friend, I should enjoy much, and 
 my pleasures would have a keener zest. I need not tell you 
 that 1 pass my days in the study of ethical medicine, and 
 passive obedience will always be the basis of my system. 
 Slander it as you will, I have never been at peace elsewhere; 
 and when one has found a rest for the head, even upon marble, 
 one should not change one's position. I have never met with 
 any palliative which was not superseded by the grand remedy, 
 save occupation : and I sometimes long to give myself up to it ; 
 for the greater part of the time my ill-health subjects me to the 
 fate of Tantalus, who, when we meet in the valley of Jehosha- 
 phat, will probably have nothing to tell me. 
 
 I told Count de Aiaistre your story of the German baron, 
 a story whose patriarchal turn, embellished by all the poetry at 
 my command, I thought, should have conquered him. He 
 charged me to tell you that it was " shocking." So much for 
 the success of my poetry upon your prose ! Being unable to 
 let the matter rest, he started from the points that the divorce 
 having been defended by I know not what council, in I know 
 not what year, &c. ; and thereupon followed a beautiful dis- 
 course, rather theological than sentimental. Do what we will, 
 my friend, 
 
 Rome se met toujours entre lui et son cceur. 2 
 
 Have I not produced a fine verse ? 
 
 As for me. who am not bristling with arguments, and, in the 
 matter of dogmas, have a singular aptitude for that of sacrifice, 
 i must confess that there was something preternatural in that 
 
 1 Count de Maistre's son. 
 
 a Rome is always coming between him and his heart.
 
 74 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 act of self-devotion which powerfully attracted me. Adieu, my 
 friend. I cannot imagine the continuation- of obstacles which 
 could long withhold me from writing to you. I await impa- 
 tiently your letter from Berlin. Tell me fully of what you are 
 doing, and particularly of your mood of mind. There are a 
 thousand situations from which one can only extricate one's self 
 by the extreme of heavenly resignation, or the extreme of 
 worldly levity. You know nothing of the latter. Try to have 
 recourse to the former, and so complete the recovery of your 
 strength. I embrace you with all my heart. 
 
 September, 1813. 
 
 I have been longing to write to you, and all yesterday and 
 to-day have actually been lying in wait for a moment in which 
 to do so. You, too, my dear friend, have .had a broken 
 and fatiguing day, although of a very different kind. I have 
 thought at intervals of all your grandeur ; picturing to my- 
 self my dear lloxandra with a tranquil exterior, but sorely 
 entiuyee at heart. Has it not been so ? Yet I do not so much 
 compassionate those people in the amphitheatre, who, like you, 
 can indemnify themselves by observing others ; but the poor 
 observed, when they play their part, is there any patience 
 equal to theirs ? I would quite as soon be the counterpart of 
 St. Simeon Stylites on the top of his column. To-day, how- 
 ever, I fancy that I could bear any thing, even that, with 
 the utmost philosophy ; the excellent news which we con- 
 tinue to receive puts me in such " high spirits." I am more 
 hopeful than ever. We can never make blunders enough to 
 paralyze so many resources, and betray so brilliant a begin- 
 ning. Since Count de Langeron has beaten the enemy, it ap- 
 pears extremely probable to me that he will continue to do so. 
 If we are not deceived, and our force is what they say, only 
 misunderstandings and low jealousies can prevent it ; and it is 
 to be hoped, that, for once at least, quarrelling will be in abey- 
 ance till the common enemy is worsted. I cannot tell you how 
 deeply 1 have been affected by the misfortune which has fallen on 
 the good cause, in the person of Moreau. 1 What a subject for 
 
 1 General Moreau, transferred to the United States in consequence of 
 the lawsuit which Bonaparte had commenced against him, landed at Goth- 
 embourg in the month of July, 1613. He entered into relations with the 
 allied sovereigns through the medium of his old companion in arms, Berna- 
 dotte, who was then Prince Royal of Sweden. The armistice had j ust
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 75 
 
 a pompous exordium on the part of the monster ! and to what 
 account will he turn it in impressing the French mind ! But 
 when I think that the same blow might have fallen on the 
 Emperor, and what an immense peril we have escaped, I 
 must confess that I dare not complain. It is not simply an 
 affectionate anxiety that I feel when he exposes himself thus : 
 it is a noble and righteous wrath, the strongest I am capable 
 of feeling. It is a wholly false notion of real courage which 
 lures him on ; and I, who spend my days in pardoning errone- 
 ous ideas, do not feel the slightest toleration for this. 
 
 Count de Maistre, who has just left me, brought me the 
 news of the death of the younger Prince de Broglie. 1 My 
 heart bleeds for his poor mother, who, in several years, has 
 scarcely recovered from the loss of her eldest son. What 
 times we live in ! " Woe to the fathers ! " says the gospel. 
 In this deplorable age, there is scarcely an individual who does 
 not tremble or suffer. 
 
 The poor Princess Alexis has been in a state of terrible 
 anxiety. She knew that the regiment of Semenowsky, where 
 her two sons 2 are, had been engaged; and, having received 
 no news of her children, she has feared some misfortune. At 
 present, she is somewhat re-assured, and, I think, with reason. 
 If there had been bad news for her, she would already have 
 received it. I do not know why they are so careless about 
 sending the lists of the killed and wounded. Suspense is crush- 
 ing, and the incoherence which pervades the reports is itself a 
 species of torture. 
 
 I am in so little haste, my friend, to speak of Nadine, that 
 
 expired. The allied armies marched from Bohemia into Saxony to attack 
 Dresden, which was, at that crisis, the centre of the Emperor Napoleon's 
 operations. At the attack on Dresden, on the 26th of August, 1812, a 
 bullet fractured Moreaif s right leg, passed across his horse, and carried 
 away a portion of the left. Amputation of both limbs was performed upon 
 the spot. He died during the night of the first or second of September. 
 His body was embalmed at Prague, and then carried to St Petersburg, 
 where it received the same honors as had been awarded to Marshal Kou- 
 touzof. 
 
 1 Francis Ladislas de Broglie Revel, grandson of Marshal Broglie. 
 Born in 1788. he was' but a year old when he left Paris with his parents. 
 At the age of ten, he entered the First Corps of Cadets at St. Petersburg; 
 was appointed ensign in a regiment of the Imperial Guard; and slain in the 
 skirmish at Culm, in Bohemia, 29th of August, 1813. 
 
 2 Princes Paul and Peter Galitzin.
 
 76 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 you will rightly have concluded that she is better. The reme- 
 dies work well ; and I am beginning to believe that youth will 
 triumph over a malady which rends my heart by the suffering 
 it entails, apart from its dangerous nature. As soon as the 
 frost is out of the ground, I shall take her into the country ; 
 where, I do not yet know. Countess Tolstoy has been kind 
 enough to write to her husband to procure me a suite of rooms 
 at Oranienbaum, the air of which place the doctors recommend 
 for Nadine ; but I do not know whether she will be successful. 
 Good-night, dear Roxandra. I am going to bed ; and I shall 
 not close my letter till to-morrow, which will give you the 
 trouble of deciphering a few more minute pages. 
 
 Tuesday, 9th. 
 
 Less of choice than of necessity, I find myself at length 
 relieved of my august presidency ; and, like all who have ever 
 abdicated sovereign power, I had my regrets. I long ago 
 formed the determination to leave in the spring ; and Nadine's 
 illness gave me the courage to execute it. If you think it 
 necessary, please inform Her Majesty. I hardly know whether 
 to believe those who tell me that I should have asked for her 
 commands before she left ; but I must say, that, when there is 
 a question of making advances, I feel them to be inconsistent 
 with my character, and all the sophistry in the world comes at 
 once to the aid of my shyness. 
 
 I am truly glad that your relations with the Empress are 
 satisfactory ; but you know very well that I am not influenced 
 by motives of vanity, even where those I love are concerned. 
 It has seemed to me that you behaved like a person whose feel- 
 ings have been hurt ; and wounded sensibility is so often mis- 
 taken in this world for offended vanity, that I could not bear 
 to have the slightest suspicion of pettiness attach to you. I am 
 inclined to think that there is nothing more flattering than a 
 naked truth, boldly uttered ; but, all the same, those who can 
 bear it are the rare exceptions in human nature. 
 
 The last news from the army, announcing the victory won 
 by our dear Emperor himself, has re-animated our spirits, 
 strangely depressed by perpetual alternations of hope and fear. 
 God grant that all these efforts and this devotion may be 
 crowned by a period of dear-bought repose! The word 
 " glory " no longer affects me. The string it once caused to 
 vibrate in my soul would seem to be broken ; and I would 
 gladly beg, for the world as for myself, a little tranquillity, if
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 77 
 
 ever so tame. The death of M. de Saint Priest 1 moved me 
 deeply ; and that of Count Strogonof was keenly felt. His 
 mother encounters this affliction with a courage and resignation 
 which some people are unjust enough to attribute to insensi- 
 bility. They seem to forget, that every thing, even the pride 
 with which she is so bitterly reproached, conspires to increase 
 the poignancy of her regret. Countess Strogonof bears the 
 blow meekly, suffering with sweetness and submission. This is 
 enough to excite doubts as to the character of her very just 
 and natural affection in the minds of those who are ever on the 
 watch for something to relieve them of the responsibility of 
 compassion and respect. Ah, my friend, how dull and illogical 
 are narrow minds ! They judge only by appearances ; or, it 
 may be, more guilty still, they refuse to believe the evidence 
 of their senses, that they may wrong others at their ease. 
 
 We are soon to lose M. Tchitchagof, 2 and I am very sorry 
 for it. He has great faults, he has not the greatest virtues : but 
 he has a fine mind and a strong character ; and these suffice to 
 make him a lovable being. We are great friends ; and, though 
 one can never answer for these gentlemen, I, at least, am sure 
 that I shall always be a friend to him. He is as inconsolable 
 as ever ; and I need sorrow, as well as something better, to 
 enable me to love him. The Emperor has just granted him 
 permission to go to England, and I am glad that he was not 
 thwarted in this project ; for I am certain that a residence 
 
 1 Count de Saint Priest, brother of General Viscount de Saint Priest, 
 Duke of Almazan, was killed March 17, 1814, before Keims, in a fight 
 with Marshal Mannont's army corps. 
 
 2 Admiral Paul Tchitchagof was a son of Admiral Basil Tchitchagof, 
 who left a name illustrious and revered in the Russian fleet, which he 
 repeatedly led to victory. His son Paul himself a distinguished man 
 was educated in England, which country was ever afterwards the 
 object of his avowed preference. He married Miss Elizabeth Proby, the 
 daughter of an English admiral. The loss of his wife, to whom he was 
 passionately attached, plunged him in inconsolable melancholy. He 
 lived in retirement thenceforward, and soon fixed his residence in Eng- 
 land. He died at Paris, in September, 1849, aged eighty-two. He had 
 been, for some years, agent of the Russian marine, and bequeathed to 
 this agency those of his papers and notes of travel which seemed likely 
 to be of use to Russia. Among these papers were found a number of let- 
 ters from Count de Maistre, which have recently been published at Paris, 
 thanks to Baron Korf, director of the imperial library.
 
 78 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 there will eventually make the place distasteful to him. Lord 
 Walpole remarked, in speaking of him, "He is restless;" and 
 this disquietude will yet restore him to the native land, by 
 whose prejudices he is alienated. 
 
 Apropos of Lord Walpole, I think that you have judged 
 him very severely. If you had looked closer, you would have 
 seen that his is not a spirit of contradiction ; and his conversa- 
 tion, on many subjects, is interesting and suggestive. I see 
 him often : he inundates me with English books ; and I should 
 be at a loss to determine to what extent these books influence 
 iny opinion of him. It is always understood, at St. Petersburg, 
 that one's days are to be spent without pleasure or profit. It 
 is positive plunder ; and I regret what I save more than what I 
 lose. I have such need of leisure ! The confusion of the life 
 I have been leading renders me almost a stranger to that inner 
 self which never expands to fulness of life save when I can give 
 myself up unrestrainedly to the impulses of affection, to nature, 
 and to that world of mind which sometimes makes us forget the 
 other. I have so much of the past in my heart, that to live 
 with old regrets and the new emotions which they awaken is as 
 necessary to me as the hope of happiness to the young souls 
 that believe in it. God has been very good to me in relieving 
 my anxiety about Nadine ; but, if I were denied the outpour- 
 ings of perfect confidence, my whole life would be disenchanted. 
 I feel sometimes so keen a need of confession, that I would go 
 to the world's end to open my heart ; and often I have started 
 involuntarily from my chair, as if it depended upon me to 
 hasten my deliverance from the weight that oppressed me. 
 
 The Countess is always the same. Ages loaded with 
 
 experience might pass over her head without her eternal youth 
 getting older by a day. 
 
 Now for your admirer, Sayger, 1 who pretends that with 
 you went all the happiness he ever enjoyed in Russia. He 
 sends you his kindest regards. The departure of the grand- 
 dukes has not deprived him of his fees ; but I fancy that he is 
 somewhat harassed in money matters, beside his domestic 
 troubles. He was very sad the last time I saw him. I be- 
 lieve him to be somewhat wrong-headed, and strongly suspect 
 that he makes no struggle against afflictive circumstances. 
 Did I tell you that the two lessons which Sayger gave me did 
 not answer? I have engaged another German master, who 
 comes every day, and under whose tuition I make rapid pro- 
 gress. If you hear any thing from Count de Lagarde, please 
 
 1 Professor of German in the imperial family.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 79 
 
 
 
 let me know : I have had no intelligence since he crossed to 
 Frankfort, and I miss it. 'Tis a good sign, that nothing is said 
 of him. Military men are in the same category as women, 
 they are most fortunate when they are not talked about. I 
 send you a letter from Count de Maistre. He had one from 
 his son yesterday, which was perfectly satisfactory. 
 
 If you are having it cold at the South, we are almost warm 
 here in the North. The river has broken up, to my great de- 
 light ; and the three windows of my study present to view 
 three beautiful Vernets, whose genuineness no one will deny. 
 
 I have read Mine, de StaeTs " Germany," and find, as in all 
 her other books, some admirable pages and some hasty judg- 
 ments. My professors of German literature, Ouvarof and 
 Tourguenief, do not find her account, in all respects, accurate. 
 Please give me your opinion on this matter. If you could 
 send me a book on magnetism and its effects, not too volumin- 
 ous, but which would give me a fair idea of the subject, you 
 would do me a great favor ; for I like nothing better than to 
 be interested in all that interests you, from alpha to omega. 
 Adieu, my dear friend. 
 
 Last Friday, the Princess Alexis and I passed the evening 
 with Count de Maistre, who, under the pressure of the duties 
 imposed by hospitality, did not allow himself a moment's sleep. 
 He came off conqueror in the terrible struggle ; but who knows 
 what it cotit him P 
 
 Universal benevolence has been the romance of the second 
 period of my life. When one renounces the hope of living 
 uninterruptedly in a single soul, it takes the whole race to fill 
 the place of that one. Nothing is more common than to make 
 up in number what we lack in quality. 
 
 The better I come to know you, the greater need I have of 
 your constant presence. If I live ten years longer, and con- 
 tinue to advance in the same direction, I shall finally arrive at 
 the point of lunacy, I shall believe that I am your shadow. 
 
 Apropos of books, I send you some volumes to-day, at the 
 request of Count de Maistre. He has just returned a pamphlet 
 which I lent him, entitled " A View of French Literature in 
 the Eighteenth Century ; " and returned it enriched by very 
 interesting marginal notes of his own. The book is excellent ; 
 and his observations, though a little severe, are remarkable for 
 their tact and acuteness. Count de Maistre is like a hunts- 
 man's dog : he scents, at a prodigious distance, all which has a 
 direct or indirect bearing on the ideas of his age. He tolerates 
 no deviation from fundamental principles. If this obliquity 
 manifests itself in ever so slight a degree, neither eloquence 
 nor elevation of thought or sentiment will atone for it.
 
 80 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 Your character reminds me of those happy turns of ex- 
 pression for which great writers are remarkable. The admira- 
 tion which these combinations excite springs from the fact, that 
 genius has the art of uniting words which were never meant to 
 go together. Ah, well ! your character is a collection of op- 
 posites which would naturally be thought incompatible, but 
 which constitutes your greatest charm. You say, perhaps, 
 that this charm is of my lending. Something must, of course, 
 be attributed to motives of retaliation ; but please remember 
 that we only lend to the rich. 
 
 Do you share with me the thought most calculated to alle- 
 viate tlie dread of death? Do you believe in the eternal re- 
 union of souls which have comprehended one another here 
 below? It seems to me to be the heart's own doctrine. Re- 
 ligion leaves us entire latitude in this respect ; and the universal 
 assent, or, rather, presentiment (the strongest of proofs in a 
 matter of feeling), seems to me a warrant of its truth. I know 
 that a pious soul may anticipate the delight of re-union with the 
 Supreme Being ; but would heaven be quite heaven to us, if we 
 could not unite to the sublime thought of our future destination 
 some sensible ideas ? Where would be that personality with- 
 out which they say that immortality would be but a vain gift, 
 if memory had vanished, and the ego ceased to exist? and if 
 that ego tinds itself again, what region, what degree of felicity, 
 could obliterate the memory of that which was once identified 
 with it? No one will ever make me believe that the soul of my 
 father, when I meet it, will be no more to me than that of the 
 Chinaman in whose company I may make the last journey. I 
 know well that we must take care not to judge heavenly by 
 earthly things ; but are not these a shadow or an echo of those ? 
 and what is a shadow or an echo but a picture or a voice, fee- 
 ble, indeed, and indistinct, but ever faithful to the original ? 
 Ah ! if this soothing theory were supported by the most positive 
 proofs, the aspect of Death walking with lifted hand ready 
 to smite those we love, or snatch us away from those who love 
 us, would still be " awful," as the English say so expressively. 
 
 Dear Roxandra, one ought to bless Providence, when, like 
 you, one has much to lose ; still more, when one has, like you, 
 a thousand chances of repairing loss. I know, by instinct, the 
 happiness which you will enjoy ; and I desire it for you with all 
 the united strength of your heart and mine. I see the outlines 
 of your destiny. You will be a wife and mother; and in the 
 centre of these blessed affections you will pass peaceful days, 
 whose very reflection will brighten those of your friends. 
 
 What poignant regrets must fill the soul of the poor Em- 
 press, who has had the cup of ielicity put to her lips only to
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 81 
 
 be made more sensible of the bitterness of having it with- 
 drawn ! l I can well understand the impulsive feeling, that you 
 would give your life to restore to her the possession of what 
 she regrets. My God ! if one did but dare ! if one might some- 
 times be as good as one's heart ! If a little power over nature 
 had only been accorded to those whose sensibility removes 
 them, lifts them, so to speak, above themselves ! But how long 
 would be the list of our desires ! Things seem arranged upon 
 a plan which the germ of evil in the human heart explains only 
 too clearly, but which one would fain see suspended at the 
 word of such as would interrupt the course of general laws for 
 the sake of others only. Then we should see angels upon 
 earth protecting other angels, and the world would be the 
 better for it. What do you say to this arrangement? 
 
 I find, in all the distractions which would divert us from our 
 sadness, the contrast which pained you on returning from your 
 walk. All that is discordant, or directly opposed to our feel- 
 ing, irritates and wounds us. If grief is to be mitigated, it 
 must either wear itself out or be shared. It is the idle, the 
 importunate, and the tiresome, and their name is legion, 
 who have invented that multitude of ceremonies, formulas, and 
 trite observances, with which it is customary to surround the 
 afflicted, who thus have added to their original trial that of an 
 enforced publicity of grief. 'My recipe would be this: Per- 
 fect solitude, which would allow of utter abandonment to one's 
 feelings ; or, better still, the mingling one's grief with that 
 of another in such a way that the souls as well as the sorrows 
 would coalesce. I should say that these were distractions which 
 might attain the desired end, because they would not attempt 
 it prematurelyy . . . 
 
 Those romances which present a faithful and artless picture 
 of the human heart and its mysteries seem to me to be history 
 par excellence. Names void of interest, barren facts, dates 
 which we know to be useless, these are what should be called 
 romance, if we mean by the word a wearisome motley, which 
 adds nothing to our experience, and has no tendency to ame- 
 liorate our condition. That plan of collecting and preserving 
 your reminiscences is charming. Do not abandon it, dear 
 lloxandra, you who forget nothing, and are never forgotten. 
 
 I am truly glad that you have discovered the sterling qualities 
 of Mile. Walouef. 2 She needs to control her first impulses 
 somewhat : she will be reasonable in the end ; but it is oilen a 
 
 1 The Empress had lost two infant children, and was childless. 
 
 2 Superintendent of the Maids of Honor. 
 
 6
 
 82 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 long time first ; and this is a more serious disadvantage to her- 
 self than to any one else. She is satisfied with you, and will 
 one day appreciate you fully. The atmosphere of Tzarskoe 
 Selo is that which suits her nature best. There she is diverted 
 and amused ; and, although yoii may not know it, 'tis none 
 the less true, that 'our sufferings have much to do with our 
 faults. 1 . . . 
 
 You are right in thinking that we must be generous in order 
 to be just. If a painter would produce a perfect representation 
 of nature, he is obliged to embellish her. Since he cannot 
 impart to canvas the velvet softness of the skin, the freshness 
 of coloring, and the grace of nature, he must supply their lack 
 by another species of perfection ; and it is only by giving too 
 much in some directions, that he succeeds in giving enough. 
 Morally speaking, we are painters of those on whom we pass 
 judgment ; and, having no exact measure of the good qualities 
 which we perceive, let us at least palliate the defects. Here, 
 perhaps, lies the sole secret of producing mental likenesses 
 which shall be perfect as a whole, and, better still, agree- 
 able. . . . 
 
 I am harder to cure than the King of England. 1 How great, 
 then, must be your skill, if you are successful ! Ah ! you are 
 right, I am very weak in action ; and, what is more, it is an 
 organized, systematic weakness, which manifests itself in a 
 multitude of ways. If I lose this fault, shall I have one virtue 
 left? Judge for yourself, my dearest friend. If I had ever 
 dared ask for aught, should I not, with my native impetuosity, 
 ever ready to carry me beyond bounds, have become exacting 
 in all my relations ? If I had not made haste to shroud my 
 life in a sombre veil, could I have borne the thought of death? 
 If I dared indulge hope in any matter, would it not weary my 
 soul too much? I am like the globe, according to Bullion's 
 theory of its formation : detached, like that, from a burning 
 sun, I have been cooling for many years. I am not quite arctic 
 in temperature ; but, without the comfort you have afforded me, 
 I should have been so ere this. At all events, I should have 
 given one leap over the temperate zone ; for there I have never 
 been able to abide. To remain on the hither side of it is much 
 easier for me. For instance : if 1 had had an immoderate 
 dread of the abuse of speech, I could have become a Trappist 
 with perfect ease ; and absolute silence would have cost me less 
 than retrenching twenty words each day. Every thing in me 
 which savors of exaggeration in the practice of things praise- 
 
 1 George III., who was partially insane.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME STVETCHINE. 83 
 
 worthy in themselves is but disguised weakness. 'Tis this 
 alone which I fear ; 'tis this alone which gives me the resigned 
 and indifferent spirit with which you are pleased to credit me. 
 You tell me of the future and of new cares, as I have often 
 told myself; but it is time for the rule of Reason (who is no 
 goddess) to begin. /We are no longer required actually to 
 shun ourselves ; but we must dare look ourselves fully in the 
 face, and cease to call on phantoms to vanquish realities. I 
 assure you that this is my last word, and that I shall now pro- 
 ceed to establish a mixed government over myself. I shall 
 assign to my several powers the part suited to each one. I 
 shall permit no encroachments ; and out of this arrangement, 
 perhaps, will spring the equilibrium which has so long been a 
 desideratum here. If you were but at the helm, my friend, 
 the bark would soon arrive at a good port. What a medley ! 
 What an exalted idea I must have of your indulgence to try it 
 like this ! While I write, the horrors of moving are going on 
 around me. Nadine is very busy and important : she has at 
 least six copy-books to put in order ; and, as you may imagine, 
 she has had to consult me on the subject a hundred times. . . . 
 
 It is splendid weather. The air is pure ; the sun warm, but 
 not oppressive. There are trees ; there is verdure ; there are 
 walks, and people who enjoy them : better still, there are those 
 who do not enjoy them alone. How happy are such ! If we 
 have superfluities, we can dispense with necessaries. I am 
 interrupted. Adieu, dear friend. Perhaps you are writing to 
 me at this very moment : the thought makes it harder than 
 usual to leave you. . . . 
 
 When you say, " Have you experienced this ? " or, " Do you 
 understand that? "you maybe sure that I can truthfully an- 
 swer "Yes." I have felt and reflected much, and in the 
 matter of human afl'ection and passion have traversed an im- 
 mense circle, and penetrated to the very antipodes. I have 
 taken a doctor's degree in this law, and am not at all mystified 
 by things which are inexplicable to those who have lived only 
 in externals. Experience has not even taught them to spell, 
 and how should they understand reading? It is in the pre- 
 cinct of my own heart that I have learned to comprehend the 
 hearts of others ; and a knowledge of my single self has given 
 me a key to those innumerable riddles which we call men. 
 The idea that every individual is a microcosm has always 
 approved itself to me. 1 have sometimes dreaded to have 
 sleep come, and interrupt the delicious reverie in which I lay 
 quiescent between memory and hope ; but oftener I have 
 shut my eyes, as children do, that I might not see the phan- 
 toms of the night, and sought to persuade myself that I slept,
 
 84 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHUTE. 
 
 so as not to be too sensible that my heart was awake and suf- 
 fering. In truth, my friend, if I did not believe that the habit- 
 ual unrest which I experience, and which interferes so sadly 
 with my serenity of mind, were due to my health, it would 
 seriously disturb my gratitude to my Maker. I have sorrows, 
 who has them not? but, if life had always smiled on me, 
 if every thing had been propitious, could I have deserved, 
 have kept, have guarded, niy happiness? should I not have 
 been utterly devoured by that restlessness which is at the 
 bottom of all minds of a certain order? I have deserved 
 the greater part of the griefs I have known ; yet God softens 
 them, as if they had been only tests, not punishments. I 
 meet with kindness ; I inspire it : my need of esteem is satis- 
 fied. I have known the most illustrious of my kind. My 
 craving for love is also filled. My heart has been so fortunate 
 in the matter of friendship ! Why, then, should I not finish 
 with courage a career whose close is already in view ? I assure 
 you, my friend, that, when my prostration is not physical, it 
 resembles a calm and sweet tranquillity. . . . 
 
 To produce any thing valuable, I need to be absorbed ; and, ' 
 when I work only by fits and starts, I experience fatigue with- 
 out pleasure. It is one of the greatest inconveniences of the 
 life which I lead, to such a character as mine, that I must 
 parcel out my day, and leave empty spaces in it. Melanchely 
 effects so easy an entrance into these breaches ; and then it 
 cannot be dislodged. When shall I be able to spend a long 
 morning with you, reading from some good and pleasant book 
 by my own fireside ? . . . 
 
 The example of Mme. de S. ought to disgust me with self- 
 love. Has she not always lived for herself? and yet how has 
 her happiness ever been at the mercy of troubles, trifling in 
 their causes, but poignant in their effects ! What has she 
 gained by making herself the centre of her life ? It reminds 
 me of that English verse : 
 
 " To each his sufferings. All are men 
 
 Condemned alike to groan : 
 
 The tender, for another's pain ; 
 
 The unfeeling, for his own." 
 
 Judging by the sad impression which misfortune makes, it 
 would seem to be new to us every time we encounter it. Have 
 you reflected upon this strange but incontestable fact, that 
 the thought of death is terrible in an arid existence, when no 
 love or compassion can come to sweeten its bitterness, while 
 it is almost pleasant at the two moral extremes .of life, su-
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCIIIXE. 85 
 
 preme sorrow and supreme joy ? In the first instance, it is a 
 change, and seems like a deliverance. In the other, there is 
 a feeling that there is nothing beyond but God : that a genu- 
 ine affection is a preparation for eternity ; and that eternity 
 comes, not to interrupt, but to perpetuate, all which makes 
 life dear. To whom do I say this ? 'Tis time that wears on 
 tender, loving hearts. Eternity is their asylum. . . . 
 
 My sister and I go Saturday to Peterhof to see the house 
 which I am to occupy. Count de Maistre tells me that lie is 
 sorry to have me go : and I can believe it ; for I, too, shall be 
 extremely sorry to see him less often. I spent yesterday even- 
 ing with him : we sat till two o'clock. He was sad ; and, to 
 divert him, I conversed on his favorite subjects, which I do not 
 understand in the least. We went from Greek to Hebrew by 
 a way that I knew not. Finally, the conversation flagging, I 
 quarrelled with him ; and then he revived. This is my method 
 of entertaining my friends. Count de Maistre will write you ; 
 and I have undertaken to forward his letter. That cold face 
 of his conceals a profoundly sensitive soul. I do not wish to 
 boast ; but he has sometimes said things to me that were very 
 sweet to hear. I leave you to guess which of these sayings I 
 have prized the highest, and shall be able to repeat most accu- 
 rately after the Japse of two or three months. Now rack your 
 brains. Have you done it? No: you are wrong. Then 
 speak to your heart, and speak of mine. It is enough : you 
 have guessed. 
 
 Friday, two o'clock, P.M. 
 
 My letter will go this evening ; and I wish to add one word. 
 The court lackey who brought me yours so promptly told me 
 that I might send mine in the same way ; and this gives me all 
 the facilities I could desire. You will not show this letter? 
 It is not out of vanity that I ask it, but that I may feel at ease, 
 and always dare to be myself. If it is impossible that I can be 
 wrong in relying so utterly on your comprehension, it is 
 equally so that the confidence which I repose in you should 
 extend to those about you. As to your own letters, nothing 
 could be more superfluous than to request me to keep them 
 private. My native egotism, so prompt to see profanation in 
 the touch of indifferent persons, is sufficient to put me on my 
 guard. Mine. S. is kind enough to say, that, for some reason 
 or other, I am like the bee. If I were one, I should assuredly 
 prevent the flies from approaching the flowers whence 1 made
 
 86 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 my honey, whatever good or bad reasons they might allege for 
 so doing. . . . 
 
 My health is not very bad ; and, in view of the equal di- 
 vision it makes of my time, I am tempted to apply to it the 
 parable of the seven fat kine and the seven lean kine. I have 
 my good days, when activity reigns, and then others in which I 
 neither sow nor reap ; and the latter, my friend, in a thought- 
 ful existence, are very dull. Nevertheless, I do not complain 
 of this, nor of any thing else. It seems to me that I grasp 
 God's intentions concerning me. I feel that I am under his 
 influence, and treading the path which his pity has marked out 
 for me. Is not such a mood of mind in itself one of the great- 
 est of blessings ? You are right to desire nothing but what 
 God wills. / 1 am keenly sensible of our utter ignorance about 
 what is best for us. f I have seen so many more bitter tears shed 
 over fulfilled than over disappointed hopes, that, if I were in- 
 vested with supreme power over my own destiny, I should beg 
 to be relieved of it without delay. It is good to depend upon 
 the Being who made all things ; and, if aught could render 
 the human creature more miserable than he now is, it would be 
 one more degree of freedom. ) These are old thoughts of 
 mine, dear friend. Their germ was within me in days when 
 the air was still fragrant ; when surrounding objects were re- 
 splendent with beauty and freshness ; and when, though my 
 heart had her sorrows, the consciousness of existence was still a 
 constant exhilaration. . . . 
 
 In the country where you are sojourning, when they see a 
 superior person who dares to be herself, and remain natural 
 and quiet where others are affected, instead of conceding the 
 superiority which such a line of conduct suggests, they attribute 
 it to the perfection of art. This is perfectly explicable. There 
 are ears on which the word merit grates, but which the word 
 address does not alarm. One point upon which I feel perfectly 
 easy is the Empress's judgment of you. She is too clever not 
 to appreciate a character like yours, and has every thing to gain 
 by intercourse with superior minds. There is nothing so advan- 
 tageous as the observation of others for those characters which 
 deserve the praise so hackneyed, and yet so high when just, of 
 improving upon acquaintance. All which bears the impress 
 of unity is true ; but, in whatever is factitious, there is always 
 a tip of the ear sticking out. I can very well understand why 
 persons of exalted rank are prone to hesitate long before giv- 
 ing the slightest confidence. They feel that a genuine friend- 
 ship would be very sweet ; but, all the same, they know that 
 they compromise more than others, if they make any but an 
 excellent choice. . . .
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 87 
 
 M. de Maistre has given me an abstract of the advice with 
 which he has favored you (it is droll, is it not? that we 
 should take it upon ourselves to advise you, who might well lead 
 us both) ; and I have smiled more than once at his grand theo- 
 ries, which could not possibly be reduced to practice. There 
 is surely some method (which is never applied) of sparing the 
 
 Eride of man ; but, as regards the vanity of woman, none such 
 as ever been discovered. I believe the simplest way is to 
 make up one's mind to sacrifice it ; to advance slowly, and 
 repeat one's self often, and thus to gain strength. Do right, 
 whatever betides. Moreover, we must not attach to trifles an 
 importance which they do not possess. Good as well as evil 
 is transitory ; vanishes, and leaves no trace. People caress 
 you, and then sulk at you, or overwhelm you with demonstra- 
 tions of interest, after loading you with proofs of dislike. We 
 are all of us, in this world, more or less like St. January, whom 
 the inhabitants of Naples worship one day, and pelt with baked 
 apples the next. The saint, who is very good-natured, per- 
 forms the same number of miracles each year. Let us imitate 
 him ; and let the miracle wrought on ourselves be the attain- 
 ment of patience and balance of character, so diih'cult of pres- 
 ervation in the midst of so many vicissitudes. 
 
 Count de Maistre has gone on a pilgrimage to visit the 
 hermit Tchitchagof, who is very comfortable at his Oranien- 
 baum. The grief of this man interests me. It is of more ser- 
 vice to him than he suspects. He is hot-headed, and needs 
 some fixed point on which to concentrate his ideas. If, in his 
 position, he had been given over to ambition, and left at the 
 mercy of all its attendant annoyances, he would have suf- 
 fered thereby : he would, I think, have had no power of 
 resistance. But now he offsets against these influences a sorrow 
 which enlarges and ennobles the man ; and, at least, all the 
 original force and dignity of his character is preserved. . . . 
 
 I believe that our rulers are to be pitied for the strait to 
 which they are reduced ; but, I must say, I should not under- 
 stand them, if they could help despising inwardly the example 
 just set by M. de . Thus to change, at a critical mo- 
 ment, from one party to the other ; and to carry one's betrayal 
 so fiir as to deliver over to the enemy all the important bills 
 and papers which one has in possession, fie, what meanness ! 
 This man would have saved Russia only to blow his brains out 
 afterwards, if I should suspect his intentions ! Our good 
 Emperor is too noble to give his confidence to such; and, if I 
 did not think so, I could not be easy. If any one should hear 
 me say this, I know very well that my opinion would be anathe- 
 matized ; it would be an unpardonable sin : but, unless all
 
 88 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 one's ideas of justice and honesty are to be reversed, I do not 
 see how any other is to be entertained. 1 . . . 
 
 You are closing your blinds to keep out the sun ; and we, 
 my friend, would fain multiply and make warmer the few scat- 
 tered rays he sheds on us. Our spring exists nowhere but in 
 the calendar; and, if the river had not broken up, it would 
 require the faith which we exercise in all mysteries to prevent 
 us from despairing of it. In the North, one imagines a new 
 beatitude, " Blessed are the warm ! " I cannot possibly tell 
 you how sorely I need a different climate, and another kind of 
 life than that which I now lead. I should need, for my regene- 
 ration, a benignant atmosphere ; and, for the complete re- 
 animation of ray broken spirits, the combined blessings of a 
 fine climate, poetic scenery, much leisure, and more friendship. 
 But this is just what I only find in samples which make me 
 long for the whole piece. I am attached by a thousand ties to 
 my native land : but these would not break, even if they were 
 loosened for a lew years ; and the re-establishment of my moral 
 force would make me fitter to enjoy them. We find as many 
 rare and lovable persons at St. Petersburg as elsewhere, 
 perhaps more ; and I shall not light my lantern, like Diogenes, 
 to seek them out, I have known so many in my day. But that 
 precaution would be very useful, if it could assist me in shun- 
 ning the crowd of commonplace individuals whom we meet on 
 our journey, whose mediocrity, versatility, and, too often, their 
 malice, are not atoned for by an instant's pleasure in their soci- 
 ety. What you tell me of your circle would make me long for 
 it, even if you were not there ; and, were I to follow you, dear 
 friend, I should claim a little interest in your name from those 
 whose friendship you have already won. It is so pleasant to 
 be in your debt ! . . . 
 
 I do not prefer others to myself, but it is others only that I 
 really love ; and it is in them that all my selfishness centres, 
 and all my comfort, unless I am living bound up in self. I have 
 never felt that any person owed me any thing (you understand 
 
 1 This impulse of manly honor should have its place in a memoir of 
 
 Mme. Swetchine; but the reader ought to be made aware that Gen. 
 
 and his friends have recently published a justification, which may be found 
 at length in the "Vie Militaire du GeW'ral Comte Friant; par le Comte 
 Friant, son fils." This justification rests principally upon the watchful 
 
 jealousy of Berthier, who saw, in the Baron de , the sole rival whom 
 
 he had to fear, and upon the nationality of the Baron , who was a 
 
 Swiss, and not a Frenchman, by birth.
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHIXIC. 89 
 
 the latitude with which I use the expression) ; yet I have always 
 thought I should be quite miserable, unless I owed all to others. 
 This may render the character strange and eccentric ; but it is 
 easy and sale, and will not repel even the ungrateful. . . . 
 
 The rumors to which Count de Maistre alluded have come 
 to my hearing ; but I know, better than any one else, how active 
 is malevolence, and how cheap falsehood. I have been afraid 
 they would reach you, and such things always give pain. . . . 
 
 Your letters will be sent to-morrow morning. I enclose one 
 from Count de Maistre, who replies to your intention of writ- 
 ing him. . . . 
 
 I am expecting my husband daily. I long for his return, 
 and the end of his nomad life. It is a good while now that 
 we have been like M. Sun and Mine. Moon, who are never 
 seen together. Speaking of my husband reminds me that it 
 was St. Alexander's Day when the news of the victories reached 
 Moscow. The cathedral had been consecrated that very day : 
 there was an illumination in the evening, transparencies and a 
 prodigious crowd in the streets. Conceive the contrast between 
 this fete and those ruins ! But it is perfectly natural. Are not 
 all our merrymakings over tombs ? and what is the earth, 
 half a fathom below its surface, but a mass of formless remains ? 
 Forget ! so says Providence, in its kindness, touched by the 
 misery of man. . . . 
 
 Count de Lagarde writes me from Vienna. He says that 
 the enthusiasm of the Austrians for the Russians is at its height. 
 Every thing, even to the dinner-plates, is & la Cossack. They 
 report a brilliant victory, won by the Prince Royal. 1 It will 
 remind you of that verse of La Harpe, 
 
 " Tombe 1 de chute en chute au trone acade'tnique." 2 
 
 My constant fear is, that, from one defeat to another, the mon- 
 ster will go on to greater glory than ever. . . . 
 
 I have just discovered a new pleasure, which I am exhaust- 
 Ing. It is that of dying of fear. I read Macbeth every evening 
 alone in a dimly lighted room. I fancy I hear the owl's hoot 
 of terror, the incantations of the conspirators, the hasty step 
 of the assassins, the broken moans of the dying. I see the 
 daggers drawn in the darkness, the shadows coining and going : 
 and, when terror has fairly got possession of me, and I begin 
 to shudder, and cast doubtful and horrified glances about, I say 
 
 1 The Prince Royal of Sweden, Bernadotte. 
 
 2 Plunging, from one depth to another, down to an academic throne.
 
 90 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 to myself, the representation is perfect ; and I go to bed with 
 my imagination lull of absurd fancies. . . . 
 
 When I was in the country, the day the gnats came, I was 
 mortally impatient with them ; but, after a while, I let them 
 sing and sting, and even get into my eyes and ears, if I was not 
 paying attention. They were as intolerable as ever, but I had 
 become accustomed to them ; and I have had very much the 
 same experience with incorrigibly sulky people. If I were to 
 recount to you the remedies I have employed to soothe the 
 irritable susceptibility of Mile. Walouef, the list would exhaust 
 even your patience. Nothing would do ; and finally I decided 
 to do nothing. It troubled me, because it is always painful to 
 witness suffering, and because, moreover, one must always 
 have some reason to fear that one has not acted quite for the 
 best ; but after seeing all the ground lost which I thought I had 
 gained, and spending my breath for naught, and often preju- 
 dicing my own interests instead of advancing them, I learned to 
 fold my arms, and make some approach to quietism. It is the 
 system I should always adopt for this sort of emergency, if my 
 naughty nerves did not occasionally interfere with my philo- 
 sophic practice. Trust me, all you can do in these cases is to 
 be passive and calm. Let the fickle people always know where 
 to find us : it seems to me that this is all the concession we 
 can make to them. When you told me that all was going well 
 between you, I believed it for a moment ; and then, like old 
 men loaded with years and experience, I smiled at your illusion, 
 without caring to destroy it. These annoyances make no seri- 
 ous difference to you, who are goodness and delicacy itself; nor 
 to me, who recognize in her the good qualities which atone for 
 disagreeable faults : but I cannot think without regret what 
 an immense price she sets on the favor of the Empress, and 
 how unlikely she is to attain and preserve it. The least she 
 can expect is the ridicule and mortification which must await 
 the failure of her ends. . . . 
 
 C. de Maistre passed a part of the morning with me, and 
 left a thousand tender remembrances for you. "Tender" is 
 the word, and, in fact, the most moderate one I could employ ; 
 for, if his feeling for you were analyzed, God knows what 
 heterogeneous elements it would be found to contain ! Good- 
 by, my friend. Forgive me for having written like a cat, and 
 chattered like a magpie.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCIIIXE. 91 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Connection between Mile. Stourdza and Mme. de Kriidener. Corres- 
 pondence between Mme. Swetchine and Mile. Stourdza continued. 
 
 THE character of the Emperor Alexander flexible, 
 mobile, and prone to emotion passed through the 
 same phases as his empire, underwent re-actions, and pre- 
 served some trace of every crisis. His heart was divided 
 between the seductions of youth and the teaching of events. 
 Seldom now did sovereign power appear to him clothed 
 with the inviolable charm of its prerogatives, but under 
 the severe, and at times forbidding, aspect of its responsi- 
 bilities. The love of his subjects remained steadfast ; but, 
 again and again, their stupidity, their dull faces, their mel- 
 ancholy glances, called on him to give an account of the 
 use he had made, or was intending to make, of so much 
 confidence and devotion. Often his aids-de-camp had seen 
 him turn aside, and traverse alone and with hasty strides 
 the alleys of Tzarskoe Selo, or fling himself into his car- 
 riage, and burst into tears. But, at last, to the lurid 
 glare of the burning of Moscow succeeded the brilliant 
 gleam of the day of Leipsic. Napoleon, vanquished by 
 all Europe, seemed to owe his defeat immediately to the 
 Russian arms. Alexander was once more exposed to 
 the allurements of fortune, of glory, and of pleasure. The 
 gravity of recent catastrophes cast a shade over his entree 
 into Paris ; but he was unanimously hailed as a generous 
 arbiter and a wise ruler.
 
 92 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 But as soon as Napoleon had been naively confined in 
 the island of Elba, and monarchy restored in France in the 
 midst of spontaneous and sincere enthusiasm, Alexander 
 started northward Vienna detained him. He lingered 
 there for a long time, quite as much to enjoy the congratu- 
 lations and the rejoicings of Europe, which believed itself 
 delivered, as to preside over the doings of a congress 
 whose duties had ceased to be of an urgent or alarming 
 nature. 
 
 A few obscure and melancholy minds were still under 
 the influence of fear. Among these, there was a woman 
 unknown in the political world, and only half revealed to 
 the world of letters by a romance strewn with ingenious 
 thoughts. 
 
 Julia Wittinghof came of a family which had counted 
 two masters of the Teutonic Order in the fourteenth and 
 fifteenth centuries, and was the grand-daughter of Marshal 
 Munich. She was born at Riga, in 1764; and married, at 
 the age of twenty, Baron Krudener, then Russian Am- 
 bassador to Venice, but soon separated from her husband, 
 and made her way alone to France, Switzerland, and Ger- 
 many, where she abandoned herself to the guidance of an 
 excited imagination. Chance led her to the Grand Duchy 
 of Baden at the time when the Empress Elizabeth, still 
 separated from Alexander, was awaiting under the roof 
 of her brother, the Grand-duke, the return of the con- 
 queror of Napoleon. 
 
 Mme. de Kriidener, then in her fiftieth year, was, for 
 the time being, devoting herself entirely to religious preach- 
 ing. Some Protestant ministers from Geneva and Baden 
 were her companions, alternately inspiring, and inspired 
 by her. She was a kind of Mme. Guyon, for whom 
 Fenelon and submission to Catholic authority were re-
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 93 
 
 placed by a few adventurous apostles without traditions or 
 precise aim, who were first instigated, and afterwards 
 swayed, by the philosophe inconnu, St. Martin. Mme. de 
 Kriidener began her relations with royalty by a passing 
 intimacy with Queen Louise of Prussia. She then trav- 
 ersed Germany, at one time resuming, to some extent, 
 the ' habits of the world; at another, sojourning with the 
 Moravinn brotherhood ; and then again lending an ear to 
 the illumine, Jung Stilling, 1 and preaching with him to the 
 poor dwellers in the lonely valleys of the Danube and the 
 Rhine. With no more originality of doctrine than any of 
 the sectaries of Germany, England, or the United States, 
 she yet created an impression by means of her sex, her 
 birth, her brilliant success upon another stage, and her lan- 
 guage, which, though it never bore the stamp of simplicity, 
 yet breathed, at times, the romantic charm of Valerie. 
 At the little court of Baden, Mme. de Kriidener found 
 herself the descendant of one of the most illustrious ser- 
 vants of the empire, and the widow of a Russian ambas- 
 sador ; and, by virtue of these titles, she easily attained to 
 familiarity with the Empress. From time to time, her 
 glance rested on the young favorite who accompanied 
 her ; and, either from sincere sympathy or calculation, 
 Mme. Kriidener made Mile. Stourdza the confidant of the 
 thoughts which were agitating her soul, and which all 
 gravitated towards the Emperor Alexander. 
 
 After the pacification of France, the allied sovereigns 
 quitted Paris for Vienna, whither their principal ministers 
 
 * Jung Stilling had been a noted oculist, but had become one of those 
 German theosophists who testilied so much interest in the late of the 
 masses. He was established at Baden as a mum be r of the Aulic Council 
 by the Grand-duke Frederic; and Mine, de Kriidener made his house her 
 head-quarter* on her arrival at Carlsruhe.
 
 94 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 followed them, and soon formed themselves into a congress. 
 The Empress Elizabeth finally left Carlsruhe to rejoin her 
 husband. Mme. de Kriidener remained at Baden, but 
 kept up her intimacy with Mile. Stourdza. In her letters, 
 the Emperor Alexander is called the " White Angel," and 
 the Emperor Napoleon the " Black Angel ; " and she con- 
 stantly reproaches the statesmen of the time with -the 
 frivolity of their pleasures and the rashness of their policy. 
 This austere tone, contrasting strangely with that of the 
 world in which Mile. Stourdza then lived, easily created 
 a revulsion of feeling, and so wrought upon the pure and 
 high-minded, that they, somewhat uncritically, confounded 
 declamation with eloquence. 
 
 Mile. Stourdza did not conceal this correspondence from 
 the Empress, who, ever desirous of recalling her husband 
 to more serious thoughts, took care, in her turn, to mention 
 it to him. Thus encouraged, Mme. de Kriidener re- 
 doubled her calls to the Christian life, and even ventured 
 upon prophecy. On the 27th of October, 1814, she wrote 
 from Strasburg: 
 
 " No : the poisoned cup quaffed by the multitude will not 
 tempt you. I speak strongly, but I live at the foot of the 
 cross. The events of life are hastening. The visions of time, 
 the voice of the apostles, the miracles which God lavishes on the 
 unworthy creature who addresses you, all these excite my 
 conscience, and I must speak strongly. The time for hesitation 
 is past. Let the giddy masses amuse themselves. They have 
 but this melancholy pleasure. 
 
 ' The angel who marked with saving blood the doors of the 
 elect is passing ; but the world sees him not. He is numbering 
 the people. The judgment approaches: it is ready, and there 
 is a volcano beneath our feet ! We shall see guilty France, 
 which, by the decrees of the Eternal, was to be saved by the 
 cross which had subdued her, we shajl see her chastised. . . . 
 
 " These lilies which God had preserved ; this emblem of a 
 pure and fragile flower which broke an iron sceptre, because 
 he willed it so ; these lilies, which should have been symboli-
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWKTCII1NE. 95 
 
 cal of purity, piety, and repentance, have come and gone. 
 The lesson has been given ; and men, more obdurate than ever, 
 dream but of tumult. Alas for these men of the torrent! 
 They are in dry deserts : they are Hung out, by their passions, 
 upon a stormy ocean, where they see the shipwreck of others 
 without even wishing to escape their own. Can men dance, 
 and array themselves in rich draperies, 1 when dark enmities 
 rend tlie human race? What! will you never learn to tremble 
 at these audacious festivities, which spring from the mourning 
 of nations, and plunge them in it again H " 
 
 To these words, which referred to Europe in general, 
 Mine, de Kriidener adds, some more precise remarks con- 
 cerning her mission to the Emperor Alexander: 
 
 " To love, with me, is to conform to sacred things. . . . You 
 would fain tell me of the depth, the power, and the beauty of 
 the Emperor's character. 1 believe that I already know him 
 well. I knew, long since, that the Lord would grant me the 
 joy of seeing him. I have great things to say to him, for I 
 have experienced much on his behalf. The Lord alone can 
 prepare his heart to receive my words. 2 
 
 " There is an old sinner at Vienna, to whom I am strongly 
 attached, the Prince de Ligne. There are such everywhere. 
 He used to call me the Gray Sister of the heart ; and we once 
 loved one another. His natural disposition is excellent. I am 
 so dead to the world, that he would fear me now as one fears 
 the departed. But I should care neither for his fears nor his 
 smiles, if I might but see him come to the life which saves from 
 eternal death. He used to have moments when his conscience 
 was awake. He wanted me to become a Catholic, and I 
 wanted him to become a Christian." 
 
 At the very moment when this letter was read at Vienna 
 by the Emperor Alexander, its effect was heightened by 
 
 1 One of the most fashionable amusements at Vienna during the con- 
 gress was Tabledux-vivans. 
 
 2 All these details are taken from the " Life of Mme. de Kriidener," 
 by M. Ch. Kynard, who has drawn the materials for his very interesting 
 work from authentic sources. M. Capefigue is wrong in assigning an 
 earlier date to the connection between Mme. de Kriidener and the Em- 
 peror Alexander.
 
 96 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHIXE. 
 
 the sudden death of the Prince de Ligne, under circum- 
 stances calculated to impress the imagination of the Czar. 
 As the time of the startling escape from Elba ap- 
 proached, Mme. de Kriidener grew more precise and 
 urgent in her warnings. On the 14th of February, 1814, 
 she once more wrote to Mile. Stourdza, still dwelling on 
 the Emperor Alexander : 
 
 " Yes, my friend, I am persuaded that I have things of im- 
 mense importance to say to him ; and, though the Prince of 
 Darkness do his best to prevent it, and to separate him from 
 those who might speak of sacred things, the Eternal will be 
 too strong for him." 
 
 " At the very moment," says her biographer, " when 
 Mme. de Kriidener was writing thus to Mile. Stourdza, 
 she was commanded by a revelation to repair to a mill 
 near Schluchtern, in the Electorate of Hesse, and there 
 await the fore-ordained meeting." And there she was 
 met, though not surprised, by the news of the landing at 
 Cannes, and the entry of Napoleon into Paris, on the 
 20th of March, 1815. 
 
 The Emperor Alexander, on his part, left Vienna, and 
 hastened to his head-quarters, a prey to the sharpest anx- 
 iety, overwhelmed with remorse for his want of foresight. 
 He had refused to appear at the splendid reception pre- 
 pared by the Bavarians, and was with difficulty persuaded 
 to accept the hospitality of his uncle, the King of Wur- 
 temberg. At nightfall, he retired to his apartment. 
 
 " I drew breath at last," he wrote with his own hand to 
 Mile. Stourdza, who had stayed behind with the Empress, 
 "and my first impulse was to take a book which I always carry 
 with me ; but my intellect was obscured by sombre clouds, and 
 failed to take in the sense of what I read. My ideas were con- 
 fused, and my heart oppressed. I dropped the book, and 
 thought what a consolation it would be to me at that moment
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 97 
 
 to converse with some pious friend. This thought reminded 
 me of you. I remembered, also, what you had told me of 
 Mine, de Kriidener, and the desire I had already expressed to 
 you of making her acquaintance. ' Where is she now, and 
 how am I ever to meet her?' I had barely expressed this 
 thought, when there came a knocking at my door. It was 
 Prince Wolkouski, who, with an air of great irritation, de- 
 clared that he was exceedingly sorry to disturb me at that 
 .unseasonable hour, but that it was his only way of getting rid 
 of a woman who was determined to see me. At the same time 
 he named Mme. de Kriidener. You may imagine my astonish- 
 ment. It seemed as if I were dreaming. ' Mme. de Kriid- 
 ener ! ' I cried, ' Mme. de Kriidener ! ' This sudden response 
 to my thought could not be accidental. I admitted her in- 
 stantly ; and, as if she had read my soul, she spoke to me 
 strengthening and consoling words, which calmed the trouble 
 which had oppressed me so long." 
 
 This timely apparition was followed by an interview 
 which lasted no less than three hours. At intervals, 
 Alexander wept profusely, and covered his face with his 
 hands. Mme. de Kriidener would then pause, and beg 
 pardon for the strength of her language. 
 
 " Go on, go on," said the Emperor : " your words are 
 music to my soul." And when, on taking leave, she made 
 a last apology, the Emperor said, " Give yourself no un- 
 easiness. All you have said recommends itself to my 
 heart. You have given me a new view of myself: I 
 thank you for it ; but I need such interviews often. I beg 
 you not to go away." 
 
 From that day forward, the Emperor looked on Mme. 
 de Kriidener as a beneficent genius, from whom be could 
 not be parted, and whose inspirations deserved respectful 
 attention. She followed him to Paris, and the influence 
 which she exerted there is historical. The origin of the 
 connection only belongs to our subject ; and this glimpse 
 was necessary to a full appreciation of the correspondence 
 which ensued between Mme. Swetchine, in Russia, and her 
 
 7
 
 98 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHIXE. 
 
 friend, whose lot was cast amid the most dramatic compli- 
 cations of the epoch. 
 
 In what concerns Mme. de Kriidener, we shall recognize 
 the plan of advice which Mine. Swetchine always adopted. 
 More alarmed than dazzled by the allurements of the Py- 
 thoness, disturbed by the enthusiasm of her friend, but 
 ever modest in the expression of her own opinion, we' 
 shall see her avoiding proper names, sifting and com- 
 bating with discretion the ideas which she resists, but 
 boldly bringing forward those which commend themselves 
 to her judgment. 
 
 On looking back, we find correspondence of Mme. 
 Swetchine's extending from the first Restoration to the 
 second, and embracing these events between the spring of 
 1814 to the close of 1815, which we have summarily re- 
 viewed. 
 
 I share to the full your admiration of our dear Emperor. 
 How blessed a thing it is to be able to praise sincerely ! No 
 one knows what it is worth, who has not been overtaken by 
 the vicissitudes of life ; and it may be, that happiness is even 
 more needed than suffering to temper the soul, and rouse its 
 energies. This memorable epoch will, I doubt not, exercise 
 a marked influence over the Emperor. He is already raised 
 above other men by the glory he has won. The influence of 
 religion will lift him above himself. His will was always good, 
 and now he will dare all he has dreamed. Let us hope that it 
 is the dawn of a better day for Russia. Ah, if his heart, now 
 that it has received a serious impression, could also be warmed 
 toward her who has suffered so long, and with so noble and 
 resigned a patience ! Has not the day of usurpations gone by ? 
 Do we not see vice everywhere yielding? I cannot tell you 
 how deeply I am pained by that suspension of correspondence 
 of which you tell me. What ! can he not allow her to taste, in 
 its fulness and purity, the joy even of these happy events ? . . . 
 
 My husband sighed over the word in your letter about the 
 
 Countess . His regrets, which are slightly materialistic, 
 
 are principally for the loss of her beauty, whose remembered 
 image he still dotes upon. He values it so highly, that I be- 
 lieve he would avoid seeing her for fear of losing the irnpres-
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 99 
 
 sion. It is very seldom that I see in the guiltiest woman any 
 thing but an unfortunate victim ; but I must say, that inde- 
 cency, in addition to weakness, dries up my charity at its source. 
 What is to be hoped from one who dares defy all that is re- 
 spectable? . . . 
 
 We have a more backward spring than any which I re- 
 member. Enormous masses of ice float down the Neva ; and 
 one would say, that, for eight days past, the whole North had 
 been breaking up. My friend, when body and mind are ill, a 
 temperate climate is very desirable. To feel disheartened in 
 the midst of an ice-bound landscape is to feel death within and 
 without one. . . . 
 
 The assurance that you were happy would console me for 
 much care and anxiety. It would be every thing to me. But 
 poor creatures that we are we can do nothing for our- 
 selves, and, what is worse, nothing for those others who are more 
 to us than ourselves. We are flung into life like malefactors, 
 bound hand and foot ; but the greater our impotence, the more 
 our movements are trammelled, and the more the mainspring 
 of the great watch acts for us. It is when we are motionless 
 as blocks of marble in the hands of the sculptor, that the action 
 of the Supreme Workman begins. I have oiten been reproached 
 with what people call my familiarity with God ; and it is quite 
 true, that, starting from the principle that no one who loves is 
 offended by confidence, I take him aside, as it were, and tell 
 him of my sorrows, my joys, and my wishes, as well as my 
 regrets. Prayer is for me a tete-a-tete par excellence; and I 
 pity those with whom it is nothing but a monologue. I have 
 sought this tete-a-tete with the best of fathers. Your image, 
 dear Roxandra, made a third in our interview, and acted as a 
 stimulus to my garrulity. . . . 
 
 How much trust and consolation for you and for myself 
 have I not gathered there ! And why may I not transmit my 
 experiences to you ? They make me smile a smile of peace, 
 and give me new life. . . . 
 
 While I write, they are giving a serenade under our win- 
 dows, for whose benefit I know not. The varying harmonies 
 of voices, fifes, and wind instruments, succeed one another 
 alternately. The river is perfectly still, the air balmy ; and, 
 from time to time, I rest my pen, sink back in my fauteuil, 
 and indulge in a momentary dream. In an interval of silence, 
 the clock of the fortress strikes one, and seems to tell me that 
 it is time to go to bed. I have chosen to mi.sunderstand it, 
 you see ; for I am writing still. My letter, however, refust-s to 
 take a fresh start. If I sit up, you are no longer there even 
 for a pretext ; and I speak only for myself. More than an
 
 100 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 hour ago, Count de Maistre ordered me to bed in the most 
 peremptory manner. He treats me like Basil. He tells me 
 that I have a fever; but I have nothing of the kind. I have 
 only a bad cold, accompanied by cough and hoarseness. . . . 
 
 I already know Mine, de Krudener, Jung, &c., as well as 
 if I had seen them. But the most interesting acquaintance I 
 have made through you is that of M. Pollier: 1 first, for the 
 reason which you know, because he strikes a sensitive chord in 
 me ; and then for that trait of devotion to his young pupil, 
 which has raised him very high in my estimation. 1 am suf- 
 ficiently inclined to be metaphysical, and even mystical ; but a 
 single impulsive deed like this appears to me far to outweigh 
 all the sublime conceptions and exalted delights of the third 
 heaven. . . . 
 
 Among the thousand items which escaped my memory the 
 other day, I forgot to speak of the book which you lent me. 
 It gave me a great deal of pleasure, and has left an inefface- 
 able impression. It is truly the rationale of Christianity, and 
 seemed made on purpose for me ; for it answered objections 
 which I have met in no other work, but which have often had 
 the effect of unsettling my mind. If it developed no other 
 idea save that the Scriptures are not revelation, but contain 
 the history of revelation, this idea, ingenious, just, and fruit- 
 ful, would have been enough, in my opinion, to make the 
 fortune of the book. When it was presented to me, you 
 would have laughed to see me spring from my chair, drop my 
 book, and clap my hands, three signs which denote the 
 highest degree of admiration of which I am capable. Prayer 
 never fails me ; but I must own that I have sometimes been 
 inclined to accuse myself of impiety, so wearisome do I find 
 the best devotional books. I yawn at the first page ; and it 
 is long since I have been able to get as far as the second. 
 A theologian who talks of religion affects me less than a man 
 of the world who is penetrated by its spirit : the one has the 
 \air of fulfilling a duty ; the other, of consulting an inclination. 
 It is difficult to strike the balance between those who are con- 
 vinced and those who are persuaded. I know very well that 
 the greatest divines have been both ; but even so their ascetic 
 and peremptory tone is against them, a tone which the gospel, 
 
 1 M. Pollier was tutor to the young Prince Wasa ; and, when the crown 
 was finally removed from the ancient house of Sweden, and given to 
 General Bernadotte, M. Pollier redoubled his devotion to the despoiled 
 prince.
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 101 
 
 as Jennings l well says, never adopts. I have already made one 
 person read the book, who has been greatly pleased with it ; 
 and I should like to repeat the experience. 
 
 February 22d. 
 
 Ah, my friend ! do not you begin to mourn over the pitiful 
 interests of this life. Can you not rise above the vicissitudes 
 to which you are condemned ? It is God's voice, do not doubt 
 it, which replies to yours. It is not for the dew-drenched earth 
 to complain. Only the parched and burning desert would 
 have a kind of right to believe itself forsaken by the powerful 
 hand whose mere withdrawal is a punishment. . . . 
 
 What you tell me of the Emperor pleases me very much. 
 At last he is having justice done him everywhere. God grant 
 that he may lead to a successful termination the noble and 
 generous enterprise whereof events bore the germ which he 
 has so successfully guarded and developed ! There is no use 
 denying it, the mass of men are just only when they are 
 happy, and the vulgar will sympathize only with success. 
 Have you taken my advice, my friend, about your behavior to 
 the Empress ? have you alluded to what she has to bear ; and 
 have you done it frankly, earnestly, and affectionately, as you 
 really feel ? 
 
 When I am with you, I have a sense of calmness and depth. 
 It is just the atmosphere which suits me ; and, though I am 
 not mad like Saul, there is something in your voice, I know 
 not what, which recalls the effect of David's harp. Ah, how 
 soothing is the thought that we are exciting interest ! You say, 
 in your letter, that 1 never speak of my own experiences. My 
 friend, always till now I have made it a matter of dignity, 
 moderation, and reason, to avoid dwelling on my troubles ; 
 but do you think I care for all that, where you are concerned ? 
 In my intercourse with you, I speak or am silent, receive or 
 give, on the impulse of the moment ; and, if I say nothing 
 of myself, it is not from indifference or reserve, but because I 
 like to hear you a hundred times better than to speak. . . . 
 
 I woke early from a sleep worse than death. At the age . 
 of nineteen, I threw myself into the arms of God, with a pas- 1 
 sionate fervor unexampled in my experience. For several | 
 years, my religion was of that stamp ; and, if you will believe 
 
 1 Jennings, born in England in 1704, is the author of a treatise on the 
 " Evidences of the Christian Religion," published in 1774, aud translated 
 by Feller.
 
 102 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 fit, my friend, five minutes of religious exaltation sufficed to 
 obtain every sacrifice, and give direction to the remainder of 
 my life. It was grace ; and, I say it with the deepest convic- 
 tion, I deserved none. Later, Providence took away my milk 
 and leading-strings. How weak I felt when it became necessary 
 for me to walk alone, and climb instead of leaping ! . . . 
 
 I know the needs of a character like yours ; but your 
 imagination, which I love as a part of yourself, might have 
 proved a snare, if you had been led astray by ordinary seduc- 
 tions. And so I own, that, since your departure, I have often 
 been fearful sometimes to the point of despondency that a 
 specious brilliancy, and the very success you were achieving, 
 would induce you to create for yourself a future where realities 
 and my affection would hardly find access to you. I said to 
 myself, " If the hopes and pleasures of the world, its vain ambi- 
 tions and frivolous pursuits, ever permanently occupy her mind, 
 I shall love her still ; but our intimacy will not be the same. 
 The perfect analogy which unites us will have been destroyed, 
 and the hopes formed for a lifetime will have been but the 
 dream of a day." This is what I have said to myself a thousand 
 times, with an inexpressible pang at my heart, which is now 
 converted into a most lively joy. The tests which they used to 
 apply to novices were child's play to those which you have 
 passed through. Try to use your triumph discreetly. The 
 moral of this fable is, that happiness is only possible among 
 our equals, in a situation where one is exposed neither to envy 
 nor to indifference ; and that all we can derive from the best of 
 human intercourse is a firm persuasion that God's service is the 
 only source of repose and well-being for his intelligent crea- 
 tures. I hope, that, amid all you have seen, you have gleaned 
 some ideas that may be realized in our dear native land, which, 
 like childhood, contains as yet only germs and elements. . . . 
 
 My health is more miserable than ever, and is only kept up 
 by ruinous remedies. My superstitious confidence in Leigthon 
 has yielded a little to reason ; and I have decided to consult 
 Grigthon, who promises me some palliatives, but persists in 
 saying, that, if I will not have recourse to violent measures, it 
 is absolutely necessary for me to take four seasons of different 
 waters. The advice is very good, so good that I had admin- 
 istered it to myself in advance. The only trouble is, it cannot 
 be followed. I should have to make up my mind to leave my 
 husband, which I cannot do. He urges it upon me ; but, the 
 kinder he is, the less I am disposed to profit by his kindness. 
 If illness or misfortune should overtake him in my absence, 
 how could I forgive myself ? . . . 
 
 The report has been circulated here, that the Empress was
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 103 
 
 going to Paris. Nothing but the announcement of your imme- 
 diate return could give uie greater pleasure, if 1 could but leel 
 sure of it. 1 
 
 August 10th. 
 
 I have just come back into my little solitude, after a season 
 of forced dissipation. In the good society in which I have 
 been moving, retirement is as artificial as enjoyment ; and I 
 have not been able to find a moment in which to add to my 
 letter a word for your good brother. Spite of my neglect, how- 
 ever, he would be doing me great injustice if he doubted the 
 strength of my attachment. The place I have just quitted 
 bears off the palm for busy idleness and monotonous excite- 
 ment. I should prefer Thebais to passing my summers so. 
 There are several of the individuals from whom I have just 
 parted, who, separately and singly, would have been pleasant 
 company ; but, taken collectively, they induce a sense of lassi- 
 tude and emptiness. I never exactly understood Rousseau's 
 wanting to be separated from his beloved, that he might have 
 the pleasure of writing to her ; but I comprehend perfectly, that 
 one must retire from the world occasionally, if one would not 
 become disgusted with it. And so the grand wall of China 
 between one's summer and winter life appears to me as 
 necessary as well conceived. One compensation for the trouble 
 of my goings and comings is the pleasure I experience in 
 being re-united to my sister and her two cherubs, of whom 
 their mother's educational tact has really made two little won- 
 ders. I have no hesitation in saying to you, that I cannot con- 
 ceive a finer character than my sister's. Every day strengthens 
 the good, and weakens the evil. . . . 
 
 It seems to me that your good angel is very busy about you, 
 and is covering your thorns with some few flowers. How I 
 should like to be charged with the visible execution of this 
 charming mission ! If your candor and good faith did not 
 re-assure me, I should perhaps fear, that, unconsciously to your- 
 self, all that you have heard the opinions by which you have 
 been surrounded, and whose organs were calculated to captivate 
 your imagination, as well as your heart might have pro- 
 duced some lasting effect upon you. But if a novel impression 
 could have given a false direction to your thoughts, your devia- 
 tion would have been less serious than another's, since you 
 have in your excellent brother, whom I like so much, a true 
 counsellor, and a guide equally capable of reproving and sus- 
 
 1 The report had no foundation. The Empress never went to Paris.
 
 104 LITE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 taining you. As for myself, I have but one thing to say in this 
 connection : Distrust that cant of " simplicity " and childlike 
 docility, which the system-makers preach so authoritatively, 
 while they fail of it themselves at the very outset. True sim- 
 plicity consists in following, step by step, the gospel teach- 
 ing, without involving one's self in those introverted specula- 
 tions which are reserved for the very few, in weighing our 
 actions by the shekel of the sanctuary, and in submitting 
 humbly to life, rather than in soaring vaingloriously above 
 it. It has been my lot to see many an Icarus in this enter- 
 prise. . . . 
 
 How grateful we ought to be, and especially to our be- 
 loved Emperor ! I am glad that I always dimly foresaw in him 
 what has been so gloriously manifested to-day. Certainly, he 
 is one of humanity's heroes, and will be so always and every- 
 where. I seem to see all my dreams of moral dignity realized 
 in his conduct, and discover, at last, in this union of religious 
 fervor with liberal ideas, the long-sought resemblance to my 
 ideal type of character, a type which might, until now, have 
 been deemed the fantastic creation of an exalted fancy. Our 
 adorable Alexander satisfies my demands, and gives perma- 
 nence to my ideas. It is possible, then, for a king upon the 
 throne, surrounded by a tumult of unchained interests and pas- 
 sions, to be a man, a Christian, a philosopher; to pursue the 
 wisest and most generous of plans, and to throw into their 
 execution all that is noble in human nature, from the loftiest 
 equity to the most affecting modesty. And this wonderful 
 young sage is our master ! My friend, if the Russians always 
 feel his worth as deeply as now, they will be only too happy. 
 The fall of Napoleon is such as we should have expected from 
 divine justice. If he had died on the field of honor, it would 
 have been a noble close to an unworthy career ; and his char- 
 acter would have remained one of those problems in nowise 
 doubtful to such as understand moral or even political laws, 
 but leaving some points capable of being seized on by those 
 wrong-headed individuals who are born hero-worshippers. 
 God has not allowed it. Napoleon is judged in the sight of 
 all men, and lor ever. As to the happy change which has been 
 wrought in the temper of the French nation, it has not in the 
 least surprised me. Their misfortunes prepared the way for 
 it. Moreover, for them to change is to remain the same. 
 Their return to right principles reminds one of the bourgeois 
 gentleman and his hymn ; and when La Fontaine wound up one 
 of his phrases with " Vive le roil vive la Ligne!" he gave 
 expression less to his own thoughtlessness than to the mobility 
 of his countrymen. Doubtless, my friend, there are individu-
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 105 
 
 als who ought to be exempted' from this judgment, which, like 
 so many others, would be unjust, if it were universal. . . . 
 
 You and I have different conceptions of religion, and the 
 aids and means of advancement which it offers us. A certain 
 novelty and formality about the step you have taken would con- 
 stantly disquiet me, were not my heart full of the blessed effects 
 which it has produced upon you. You are, doubtless, one of 
 the people whose imagination sometimes carries them away ; 
 but then your singular purity of heart classes you with those 
 for whom all things work for good, and who soar on the wings 
 of inspiration to a height which others attain only by painful 
 efforts, and a slow and sad success. I trust we shall often 
 return to this most interesting of subjects ; and I am quite sure, 
 that, though our opinions may not always harmonize, no tem- 
 porary divergence can really separate us, our point of departure 
 and our end being the same. It is so good and so profitable 
 for two to travel arm in arm, supporting one another, towards 
 that region which we may not call the unknown. . . . 
 
 Yet once more, my friend : can it be possible that the anima- 
 tion of our discussions should degenerate into acrimony, or 
 weaken an attachment so thoroughly reciprocal ? You and I 
 must be other than we are, before I could even fear such an 
 event. Nothing could be more eloquent or fascinating than 
 what you say of the rapid progress of the impressions which 
 now sway you. One could easily be carried away by the 
 immense range which the system you adopt offers to emanci- 
 pated thought, free to roam at will through the vastnrss of the 
 visible and invisible creation ; but, in this soaring of the mind, 
 which marks perhaps its point of highest culture, do we see, as 
 you do, any trace of the character impressed upon religion in 
 the primitive days of Christianity? I see but one approved 
 route, and every species of deviation severely censured. I see 
 the imagination and its brightest (breams dreaded as the source 
 and the effects of illusion ; a boundless submission to what is 
 established by common consent ; a respect for tradition, almost 
 equal to what is accorded to the Holy Scriptures ; and a perfect 
 oneness of opinion with all true Christians, to whom we are 
 bound by the tie of a fraternity which is charitable without 
 being weak. No, my friend : my faith is not so ill-assured that 
 I can fear to examine the bases upon which it rests. I say, with 
 you, the Christian religion is not merely the religion of love, 
 but that of science too. The more I learn, the more I reflect; 
 the more spiritual and thoughtful the life I lead, the more firmly 
 do I believe. But I am not sure that every species of science 
 is directly and immediately serviceable to Christianity ; whether 
 or no it may not nourish our pride, which feeds on any thing;
 
 106 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 and whether, when one has found faith, true faith, it be 
 not wiser quietly to cultivate the virtues of the heart, than to 
 leave the intellect to wander in the labyrinth of those ideas, 
 ingenious, it may be, but to which human faith alone has 
 given a divine significance. Yet I too, dear friend, have 
 plunged into studies looking to the same end. I keep as much 
 as possible to the main route there, where one needs at least that 
 Ariadne's thread which you will find in yourself. I advance 
 slowly and painfully ; my only consolation being my sense of 
 a steadfast wish to grow in the knowledge and love of the law 
 of that God of mercy in whom we have such need to hope. 
 How sweet it will be, my friend, to unite our hope?, and cherish 
 them together ! Ah, how much worthier we shall be, both of 
 heaven and earth, when our souls are penetrated by the blessed 
 peace that follows mutual outpourings ! . . . 
 
 Forgive me, dear Roxandra, for having neglected so many 
 days to send you this additional note from Count de Maistre. 
 He would never pardon the delay ; but, since you will pardon 
 any thing, please keep my secret. I press you to my heart. . . . 
 
 I cannot tell you how much what you say of Mme. de 
 Kriidener and her daughter has interested me. Since I cannot 
 lay claim to the not very rare honor of having made up my 
 mind in advance, and since, by a whim which would be severely 
 condemned at St. Petersburg, I hold (if it be not boastful 
 to say so) to having somewhat exact notions of a question 
 before passing judgment upon it, my opinion of the Theo- 
 sophists of Germany is in a state which would drive the 
 orthodox wild with indignation and fear. One can make great 
 progress in so vast a field : and it has always seemed to me 
 very natural, that, in the laying of foundations, some should be 
 busy in removing bricks which they think useless, while others 
 are adding new ; provided, always, that the lavishness of these 
 last does not defy heaven by a second Tower of Babel. I be- 
 lieve I am very tolerant ; but I have always found, upon reflec- 
 tion, that it was better to follow religion in its simplicity than 
 to make of it a science, whose most able professors are not 
 always most attached, as Christians, to the precepts which 
 identify practice with theory. When we abandon ourselves to 
 the transports and the abstractions of divine love, it is very 
 rare that pride fails of her share, and dies of inanition. The 
 war-cry of this sacred army is always " Simplicity," " Abnega- 
 tion of self and self-love ; " but this fine medal unluckily has 
 a reverse, which displays all the correlative vices. Over and 
 above these considerations, suggested by a certain society, 
 there is another which would have decided me against it ; and 
 that is, its pronounced aversion for every thing which savors of
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 107 
 
 association. I have never understood how one could be bound 
 by his opinions ; and, if ever I am a member of a sect, it will 
 be of an independent one. My confidence and esteem are 
 awarded to character only ; and the romances of Mrs. Radcliffe 
 would terrify me less than the thought that I was in the clutches 
 of a religious party constituting a separate body within the 
 body of the Christian Church. Try, my dear friend, to save 
 yourself from this. It is not as easy as you suppose. These 
 people, however estimable in other respects, have always this 
 mental reservation ; and propagandised is lukewarm compared 
 to the ardor which they throw into it. Hear them, if they in- 
 terest you, but do not adopt their opinions. Take from them 
 what will warm the heart without influencing the judgment. 
 Your brother has read me Mme. de Kriidener's letter, a copy 
 of which you sent him. I thought it admirable, and so did he ; 
 although he was not perhaps quite as willing as myself to admit 
 its perfect good faith. But none the less do I beg of you to 
 hold fast by that collier's faith to which I come back after all 
 the oscillations which reproduce, to some extent, in my poor 
 head, the fermentation of opinions that took place in the six- 
 teenth century. Do you know your brother has contributed 
 materially toward making me a better Greek-church woman 
 than I ever was before ? ' . . . 
 
 Though nothing positive is known of the plans on which 
 you are dependent, I presume, according to all appearances, 
 that the Emperor will soon take a fresh start, and that you will 
 remain in foreign lands till he returns to our own ; that is, for 
 the indefinite period during which the Emperor is occupied 
 with the affairs of Europe, of which he is really the attorney- 
 general. Setting aside all personal considerations, a habit 
 of mine which has become almost mechanical, I am glad of 
 it. A further residence in Germany will protract for you that 
 life of enchantment which never lasts too long. Moreover, 
 this lengthened stay appears to me to be favorable to the res- 
 toration of our angel's happiness. Far from hostile and 
 jealous looks, and the machinations of intrigue and cunning, 
 there will be, I fancy, fewer obstacles to a change in her lot. 
 For myself, I feel that I am incapable of illusions : the pre- 
 monitory symptoms are unmistakable. My head has nurtured 
 so many chimeras, that I have come to distrust the most suitable 
 
 1 M. Stourdza was at that time preparing a book, entitled " Conside^ 
 rations sur la Doctrine et 1' Esprit de 1'Eglise Orthodoxe." Stutgard, 1816. 
 This book was refuted by Father Rosaven, in a volume entitled " L'Eglisa 
 Catholique Justifie'e." Lyons, 1824.
 
 108 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 combinations which I have arranged for others ; the very 
 desire of seeing them realized being enough to give them the 
 old flavor of the soil. . . . 
 
 I have had two letters from you, whose reception I have 
 never acknowledged. The last was from Baden, and contained, 
 like its predecessor, a most lifelike, and, so to speak, palpable 
 picture of the animate and inanimate nature about you. Ah, 
 my friend ! every day strengthens the preference which I award 
 to landscape over historical painting. I envy you your privi- 
 lege of wandering through one of the loveliest countries on 
 earth, in the midst of magnificent ruins, clothed with all the 
 wealth of vegetation, and of marrying your reveries to the vague 
 sweet tones of -3Solian harps. But it does not make me in the 
 slightest degree covetous to see you surrounded by every de- 
 velopment of the human heart, and reaping the dubious delights 
 of observation. . . . 
 
 You have good reason, my friend, to call your destiny a 
 strange one. It will not, however, on this occasion, appear 
 inexplicable .to those who love you. There is nothing so 
 attractive to noble souls as a noble soul. . . . 
 
 It is natural that prudence should seem a quality of an 
 inferior order, to characters like yours ; but, trust me, it is the 
 only one which you constantly need to exercise. The eyes of 
 all those who follow the career in which you have engaged will 
 be ever upon you. Irritated by your advantages, they will find 
 matter for discussion in your most insignificant steps ; and, if 
 you do not meet them with great reserve and caution, you will 
 involve yourself in troubles which may be despised theoretically, 
 but which, in reality, one feels. Really, my dear friend, were 
 it not for your extreme goodness, I could not preach to you. 
 If I could only do it like Julia ! ' . . . 
 
 What a blessed thing it would be, if those who are raised 
 by their rank above others, and by popular enthusiasm above 
 even their rank, did but know the value of their opinion, which 
 might so easily be made to subserve the purposes of reward 
 and punishment. There is something positively magical about 
 the intellectual sway exercised by that invisible sceptre which 
 deals blows so authoritative, and so salutary when they strike 
 home. The misconception which should lead any one to attempt 
 to make you an instrument of his elevation is exceedingly 
 droll ; but, dear Roxandra, it is your own fault. Why do you 
 conceal so much finesse under the simplest and most artless 
 demeanor? . 
 
 1 Julia was M me. de Kriidener's Christian name.
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 109 
 
 In your first letter you said that M. de La Harpe had 
 come, but that you had trot seen him. In the second, you said 
 nothing about it. Please, a little more information on this 
 subject. I want very much to understand it. All I have heard 
 pleases me, even the blue ribbon, which it was natural for the 
 Emperor to offer him, but which he need not have accepted, to 
 prove that he deserved it. This act, on which I dare not pass 
 judgment, since I am ignorant of his motives, which might 
 silence all objections, has nevertheless confused my ideas 
 about him. Will M. de La Harpe return to Russia? I envy 
 you your ability to associate faces with all these famous names. 
 I should like at least to know those of all the persons in whom 
 you feel an interest, were it but to gratify the passing caprice 
 of an idle moment. This M. de Berckheim, 1 of whom you tell 
 me, is entitled to more consideration, to judge by the two or 
 three strokes of the pencil which give me his portrait. I have 
 read " L'Homme de D6sir," 2 which he lent you. It is a very 
 fine poem, the scene of which is laid in the clouds. When we 
 read, we seem to see earth from the eagle's stand-point, aloft 
 in the air. But does the work open the soul to real heavenly 
 impressions, or quicken its love ? I think not. Appealing to 
 the imagination, rather than to the sensibility, it elevates the 
 mind, but scarcely touches the heart. Such, at least, is the ef- 
 fect it produces upon me ; and it is the same with all religious 
 writing which has not the antique simplicity of the gospel and 
 its divine wisdom of expression. Over-boldness is a human 
 foible, and does not come by inspiration of the Holy Spirit. I 
 read much, my friend ; and, the more I read, the oftener I go 
 back to those first principles which are so simple that childhood 
 itself can lisp them. I confine myself to these, and desire only 
 to purify the vase which receives them. The outskirts of our 
 estate are peopled by rascolnicks ; 3 and yesterday, when I 
 
 1 Son-in-law and disciple of Mine, de Kriidener. 
 
 2 "L'Homme de De"sir" is a work by St. Martin, published in 1790, 
 and thus described by M. Sainte Beuve: "He commands the attention, 
 both of the serious and the profane, by the vivid beauties which gleam 
 out from the depths of his obscurity, and by certain effusions and emo- 
 tional hymns, in which he announces a harbinger." Causeries de 
 Lundi, vol. x. 
 
 8 "Niet, mamouchka iaidou starb'i dorogoi tchem bog blagoslovil." 
 The word rascolnick means, in Russian, schismatic. They include, under 
 this title, all sects dissenting from the Russian Church. The adherents of 
 the most formidable of these adopt the name of staroveres, or old believ-
 
 110 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 asked a poor woman from one of the villages -which most 
 abounds in them if she were one, she. replied, " No, my little 
 mother : I walk in the old way, and take what the good God 
 gives me." . . . 
 
 For one born under the light of Christianity, is not this 
 the highest exercise of reason ? and would it not be wise for the 
 brightest and best of us to imitate my poor woman and her 
 answer, and the deep feeling which was depicted on her coun- 
 tenance, and seemed to have dictated her reply ? I think as 
 she does to-day : to-morrow, who knows but I shall be troubled 
 by the old fruitless speculations ? . . . 
 
 My good friend, curiosity is as powerful as it is ancient; 
 and you have excited mine to such a degree that I understand 
 Eve better than ever before. 1 know not whether I shall have 
 the courage to put to sea with you ; but this much is certain, 
 if I cannot keep you in port, 1 will follow you with my vows. 
 Are they not such as insure good fortune ? I have sometimes 
 feared that your imagination would be too much excited by the 
 atmosphere in which you live ; and that, if the truths held by 
 the superior men whom you admire were not purged of error, 
 you would take the error along with the truth. But I feel 
 re-assured, when I reflect that your naturally reverent mind 
 never seeks to transcend the limit of man's powers. The old 
 faith is proved to be a positive faith by the very fact that it has 
 traversed the ages unchanged. Let us cling closely to this 
 main truth, however widely our gaze may range. All that is 
 true is ever ready to combine with the one truth divinely re- 
 vealed and universally diffused ; and the presence of an alloy 
 is betrayed by its very refusal to unite. . . . 
 
 ers. No difference of dogma separates them from the Established Church. 
 They attach extreme importance to external forms, insignificant in them- 
 selves. They also refuse to use the liturgy corrected by the Patriarch 
 Nicon in the seventeenth century. What gives their dissent a serious 
 character is their persistent refusal to recognize in the Church of Russia 
 the true church of Christ, since it ceased to be independent of the tem- 
 poral power. The government does not recognize them ; but they con- 
 stitute an immense organization of five millions of men. They lay great 
 stress on freedom of conscience. During the Crimean War, their sympa- 
 thy for the allies was very pronounced. The news from Sevastopol was 
 known among them before the official journals published it. We see by 
 the woman's reply to Mme. Swetchine, that those who do not share the 
 opinions of the staroveres treat them as innovators, and consider them- 
 selves the genuine old believers.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. Ill 
 
 I keep forgetting to tell you that I have seen much of 
 Prince Ypsilanti and his family. The father appears to me, as 
 to every one, a man of great talent and vast information, to 
 whom the contrast between his Oriental costume and his thor- 
 oughly European manners imparts a piquant charm. But I 
 must acknowledge, that, as a disciple of Lavater and pure 
 instinct, I should not feel disposed to trust him implicitly. 
 Something scrutinizing in his glance ; something hard and 
 penetrating ; an uncertain and dubious expression about the 
 countenance, which is undoubtedly the accent of the face, 
 these would have kept me on the defensive, even if I had had 
 good reasons for trusting him. I made several experiments 
 upon him, which I will describe when we meet, for the purpose 
 of proving to what extent simple frankness and good-nature 
 could surprise and disconcert finesse, subtlety, and all those 
 qualities in which the intellect confides. As to his eldest son, 
 Alexander, I believe that he pleased me thoroughly. He could 
 not be more modest or more loyal. I am greatly mistaken if 
 that young man is not as honorable as he is brave. Perfectly 
 simple, without a touch of egotism, his calm and slightly mel- 
 ancholy air wins him more suffrages than he could obtain by 
 more brilliant advantages. 1 . . . My friend, even if the Em- 
 press did not attract by her own peculiar charm ; if the grace 
 of her mind and manners did not amply atone for these irregu- 
 larities of temper which disturb you, a mere sense of justice 
 
 1 The family of Ypsilanti had given, in 1774, a hospodar to Wallachia, 
 Prince Alexander Ypsilanti, taken prisoner by the Austrians in 1788. 
 In 1799, his son Constantino was appointed Prince of Moldavia; and, in 
 1807, Moldavia and Wallachia were once more united under the same 
 government Prince Alexander was then living in retirement at Con- 
 stantinople. The English ambassador, foreseeing the wrath of the Sultan 
 at the news of the re-union of the principalities, had a frigate placed at 
 the disposal of Prince Ypsilanti. He refused this means of escape, and 
 contented himself with the reply, "At eighty-five, we await death, not 
 shun it" He was executed at Constantinople on the 8th of March, 1807. 
 The person here mentioned was his grandson. This young Prince justi- 
 fied Mme. Swetchine's judgment at the time of the Greek insurrection. 
 Greece bestowed on him the official title of Lieutenant-general of the 
 Greek nation; and, in the public prayers, he was called "our prince." 
 After the Battle of Dragachan, which was fought contrary to his orders, 
 and in his absence, he attempted to cross Austria incognito, but was 
 arrested, and held in custody. He died at Vienna on the 23d of July, 
 aged thirty-six.
 
 112 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 should prevent one from dwelling on them. Think of the deep 
 wounds constantly inflicted upon her heart ! She is doomed to 
 suffer, and to have her sufferings indefinitely multiplied by 
 every capacity, every weakness, and every want of our poor 
 human nature. Under a trial so dull, so disenchanting, so cal- 
 culated to imbitter, the soul of an angel would succumb. How 
 easy it is to be amiable in the midst of happiness and success ! 
 But when we have a right to every species of homage and de- 
 votion, and feel within us, but can never develop, the power 
 to inspire the same ; when ever}' thing fails us at once, what 
 can we show the world but a conflict which is not, and cannot 
 be, always successful ? Think of this sad lot, my dear friend, 
 and regulate your devotion accordingly. . . . 
 
 I approve strongly of your calmness and moderation ; but 
 do not let them be mistaken for indifference. The shade of 
 difference is so difficult to define, so easy to apprehend. Lov- 
 ing is the first condition of being loved. Rest assured that all 
 imaginable merit and all possible service will fail of winning 
 confidence, unless their object is informed by an unerring pre- 
 sentiment that the source of our devotedness is a deep and 
 living affection. Do not fear to yield to such a sentiment, 
 and you will soon cease to be misunderstood. I should not 
 perhaps have advised setting your affections so high ; but, since 
 you have been led to it by circumstances (so variously inter- 
 preted by the all-wise mass of men), utilize, in the noblest 
 sense of the word, the means afforded you. . . . 
 
 The Empress has always appeared to me the most inter- 
 esting of human beings, and the one possessing in the highest 
 degree the charm which is the reflection of a beautiful soul ; 
 but I have thought more of her than ever of late, since her 
 hopes and ours have become dim and uncertain. I love the 
 Emperor sincerely ; I appreciate him ; I honor his fine quali- 
 ties : but I have, I must confess, a grudge against him for re- 
 sisting, as he does, the sweetest and most holy seductions of 
 virtue. How can any thing else win his regard, especially 
 when that other thing is so different, so inferior ? There is no 
 woman on earth capable of solving this hard problem. Delicate 
 discernment almost always accompanies our weakness ; and it 
 is a rare thing for a superior woman to love much without a 
 groundwork of esteem, the thing of all others most agree- 
 able to the vanity, and most conducive to the lasting attach- 
 ment, of the best men. I am glad of the confidence which the 
 Empress seems to repose in you. Attach yourself unreserv- 
 edly to her destiny, and, believe me, in tune you will secure 
 much more than her esteem. . . . 
 
 Your scene from the Capuchin convent makes a fine pic-
 
 LIFE OP JtADAME SWETCHIXE. 113 
 
 ture, which would not disgrace the richest gallery. It breathes 
 the religious philosophy of the artist, who trusts that people of 
 different opinions may all be equally right. Christianity in 
 broad touches captivates me. Yet, in giving my faith so wide 
 a latitude, I am embarrassed by the thought of that " straight 
 gate" which they say we must needs enter; and my heart 
 
 frows heavy and my thought confused, when, disregarding the 
 armony of the ensemble, I endeavor to find trutli in the mass 
 of details. And who shall say that it is enough to feel one's 
 self penetrated with the spirit of religion ? and, if we neglect 
 to seek and embrace the absolute verity of positive dogmas, 
 can we hope to find ourselves clothed with the wedding gar- 
 ment ? . . . 
 
 Your heart outstrips your reason, and leaden-shod pru- 
 dence wills that they go together. To think of my preaching 
 so frigid an alliance ! As to that project of a convent equally 
 accessible to the professors of the three religions, its success 
 would demand a far more conciliatory spirit than obtains 
 among the rival mistresses of a Mahometan seraglio. Ever 
 so slight an observation of men shows them to be more obsti- 
 nate and intolerant in their opinions than exclusive in their 
 feelings. Add to this the immense difficulties which would 
 arise from the inevitable fermentation of religious ideas, from 
 the fanatical zeal with which each would defend his own and 
 reprove and anathematize those of the others, and you will 
 see, my friend, that, for the accomplishment of the work you 
 meditate, there would be required a different age, a different 
 place, and different men. We must not forget, that, in reli- 
 gious discussion, as well as religious philosophy, we are still a 
 virgin nation ; and we can but fear that the natural growth of 
 this element will lead us through the storms of the sixteenth 
 century, or carry us, at one leap, into the dazzling darkness 
 of Germany. I do not need to remind you that I have neither 
 prepossessions nor prejudices : the unsettled state of my own 
 opinions does not entitle me to such, and, besides, they are 
 inconsistent with my character ; but none the less do I abhor 
 sects. The unjustifiably harsh and intolerant spirit which 
 possesses them condemns them in my eyes, and makes them 
 intolerably repugnant to me. I do not know whether the 
 dreams of Mine, de Kriidener and Jung resemble those of 
 our own sectaries ; I only know their general character ; but, 
 if the spirit of yours is narrow and inquisitorial, other fruits of 
 the same tree are doubtless similar. . . . 
 
 As for me, my chronic ailments continue to be mitigated 
 by the pure air which I breathe, and the independence of this 
 country life. If the situation were only a pleasant one, I 
 
 8
 
 114 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 should be perfectly contented. If no aspects of nature are 
 entirely dumb, it is certain that all do not appeal to our souls 
 with equal force ; and hence my fancy for two or three rooms 
 connected with some royal palace. My first requisition is pleas- 
 ant surroundings which do not belong to me ; for proprietorship 
 entails so many troubles, that it would oblige me to renounce 
 that quietistic repose which 1 never want interrupted by sub- 
 lunary affairs. I hesitate about confessing it, lest it should 
 injure me with you, my friend, whose imagination the fields, 
 the woods, and the meadows have captivated, and, so to speak, 
 idyllized. But we ought to prefer truth to success : and, I 
 must own, blushing for my artificiality of taste the while, that 
 I have no fancy for the country. I like neither to plant nor to 
 sow nor to cultivate nor to adorn ; and I could enjoy my- 
 self only in a spot which had been planted, sown, and adorned 
 without any interference of mine. I like very well to gather 
 fruit ; but, if I were to spend a hundred years in one spot, I 
 should leave no trace of the sojourn of an intelligent being. 
 I want vegetation to do without me, and every thing to come 
 as if by magic, and independently of any law of mine. Rous- 
 seau, with his silly reveries in the groves of Montmorency, 
 which he was fortunate enough not to own, is a kind of mole, 
 whom, but for his genius, I should take great pains to avoid. . . 
 "The universe," says some one, "is but the symbol of a 
 great thought." It seems to me impossible to doubt that there 
 exists a unity between the moral and physical world ; that the 
 latter is but the manifestation of the former, the sheath which 
 preserves its forms, and follows its contours. But I hold it 
 to be a somewhat dangerous belief, that the indefinite perfecti- 
 bility of man, either individually or collectively, could ever 
 result from progress in this direction, that the key of the 
 great book could be attained thereby, especially that a sin- 
 
 fle religious truth could thus be added to what is revealed. 
 Ian may perfect himself, so far as his nature allows it, better 
 by action than by speculation ; for the grandest flights of the 
 latter will teach him nothing beyond the simple and sublime 
 precepts contained in the Lord's Prayer. The key of the great 
 book is still a kind of philosopher's stone ; and as to religion, 
 for the very reason that it is divine, it must needs have been 
 perfect from the beginning. We corrupt rather than perfect 
 religion, if we either add or take away from the Nicene Creed ; 
 and it should not, I think, be hard for us, in our day, to seek 
 our rule of faith in an age of miracle, saintship, and sacrifice. 
 Such, dear friend, are my views on this important subject ; but 
 I would not set myself up above those who think otherwise, 
 nor deny myself the pleasure of studying the most diverse
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 115 
 
 systems. Tell me always about those which impress you ; 
 but take care, I beg of you, not to be carried away by them. 
 Think how pure and beautiful our faith is, and consider, that, 
 since so many careers are open to one of your fine imagination, 
 you ought all the more willingly to close this by your own 
 submission. Do not exercise, in matters of doctrine, an indif- 
 ference which would be truly culpable. Think what religion 
 would have become, if the first believers had not been faithful 
 to their precious trust. . . . 
 
 My husband has just returned from Moscow, where he has 
 been very ill ; and, although I did not know of his danger till it 
 was passed, I have been exceedingly anxious. . . . 
 
 When shall I thank God for your return ? The reports we 
 get are utterly contradictory ; and I anxiously wait the de- 
 cision which will probably follow the Emperor's journey to 
 Munich. If any further complication takes place in political 
 affairs, who can foresee the end of so many inextricable diffi- 
 culties ? My timid nature shrinks at the approach of a conflict 
 which promises to be long protracted, although a favorable 
 issue seems certain. The state of suspense in which we live 
 is very painful. All we can do is to lay before God our un- 
 certainty, and our confused sense of fear, fear of a personal 
 character ; for revolutions are impending on all sides, and we 
 cannot hope that any part will remain sound in the midst of 
 the general corruption, nor immovable upon its foundations 
 when there are secret mines or visible ravages everywhere. 
 The spirit of God broods over fiery volcanoes as well as over 
 green and tranquil meadows ; and this must be our consolation 
 for living at the present time. For my own part, I am far from 
 regretting the age in which I live, so fertile in the events 
 which awaken great thoughts. If we were to be annihilated 
 after a single day of life, I should wish that day to be perfectly 
 fair ; but storms, hurricanes, all the grand spectacles of nature, 
 which are, it may be, but an image of human ravages and 
 commotions, are better suited to a being who bears within 
 himself the pledge of his immortality. . . . 
 
 Philosophy has been speculative in other times ; in our own, 
 it is practical. Its truths have become intuitive ; we breathe 
 them in the air; if we do but resolve not to repel, we become 
 penetrated by them. And the shocks and overturns we witness 
 suffice, even without personal contact, to induce that passive 
 submission which otherwise is either the result of misfortune, 
 or the chef-d'oeuvre of wisdom. How finely you are situated, 
 my friend, for the study of all these vicissitudes, which are 
 especially striking in high places ! What a view you must have 
 from your stand-point ! How insignificant the objects which the
 
 116 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 vulgar invest with grandeur must appear in your eyes ! You 
 can judge of human affairs just as they are. From the top of 
 the Saltzburg Mountains you admire the natural heaven ; and 
 in the presence of earth's potentates, and in the midst of their 
 conflicting interests, one may study with profit the action of 
 God, who smites with vanity and nothingness what he seemed 
 to have lifted highest. My friend, you must have completed 
 your course of experience ; and, if you have gained no happi- 
 ness thereby, you have garnered a multitude of useful ideas 
 and observations, whose influence will extend over all your 
 life. Its effect, so fa* as regards an acute discrimination of 
 good and evil, is assured to you : only try to add to this the 
 regulation of your external conduct, and its restraint within 
 the bounds of moderation and prudence. Preserve your inde- 
 pendence, as the source of all that is noble, strong, and eleva- 
 ted ; but do not let it appear on the surface. Those who are 
 incapable of it themselves would take it for hauteur ; and it is 
 our duty to prevent unjust misconceptions. Oh ! when shall we 
 be together ? When will it be given me to share your impres- 
 sions immediately, and modify them by the very fact, that I do 
 uot possess, in the same degree as yourself, what pleases and 
 suits me so perfectly in you ? We both love truth ; and we 
 both love it undisguised and unveiled. What hope for advance- 
 ment does not this disposition authorize ? Never before, my 
 friend, have I desired so earnestly to render myself worthy of 
 all God has done for me in giving me a tender heart, and the 
 power of loving virtue passionately, and of sacrificing myself 
 to my friends. I am neither troubled nor perplexed, but I am 
 often sad that I make so little progress in a route whose beauty 
 and magnificence I see so plainly. How I have followed you 
 in your journey over the mountains of Saltzburg ! Your de- 
 scription is enchanting, and consoles me for the fact that 1 am 
 probably doomed to see nature only in pictures : yours are 
 full of warmth and life ; and richer coloring never animated a 
 pencil. How pleasant it would be, if we could make landscapes 
 together! You would take care of the ensemble, of the trees, 
 the water, the effects of light ; and I should beg to be allowed 
 to place, in one of the dimmest corners, some mouldering mon- 
 ument, some burial-stone, or a figure whose grave and melan- 
 choly attitude should announce meditation or sorrow. If that 
 fine landscape of Poussin's had been our joint production, 
 my part would have been only the inscription, "And I, too, 
 was ." * I should have liked that sufficiently well. When 
 
 1 An allusion to a celebrated picture of Poussin's, representing a tomb, 
 the sight of which hushes all the sounds and extinguishes all the light
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 117 
 
 I want actual delectation, I dream of travelling with you, that 
 we are traversing glorious countries, where beautiful landscapes 
 suggest noble thoughts, thinking of heaven while we admire 
 earth. Will it ever come to pass ? . . . 
 
 I cannot tell you, my friend, with what an intensity of de- 
 sire I yearn for an existence apart from the crowd ! I have 
 seen a good deal of society this winter, and given myself up to 
 it more entirely than I had done for several years ; and the 
 result of the experiment is, that at heart I am more alienated 
 from it than ever. It is impossible for me to have, in any human 
 relation, only the trifling stake of cool and rational mortals. 
 Kven general benevolence a sentiment so minutely divided 
 that it is well-nigh reduced to nothing assumes an actual con- 
 sistency in my case. Every thing that I see always inspires me 
 with more or less interest ; and the result is a vague emotion, 
 fatigue without compensation. I know not the art of specu- 
 lating on the amusement afforded us by others ; and what are 
 deemed flattering successes are so for me only when I can sup-\ 
 pose them to have planted some germ of kindness in the hearts ' 
 of my fellow-men. My own embraces so easily the whole crea- 
 tion, and every individual in it ; my natural impulse is so surely 
 to sympathize with another's feeling, that I am constantly 
 shocked by the dryness, insensibility, and coldness which I 
 inevitably encounter on my way. What shall be said, then, of 
 that malevolence which has too little idea of self-concealment ; 
 of that irritable envy which cannot be appeased ; of that aver- 
 sion, under the mask of indifference, to every thing which sug- 
 gests the most miserable advantages of a miserable life ? And, 
 in the suffrages which we rely on most, what a sense of disap- 
 pointment and emptiness succeeds to the agreeable feeling 
 which they excite ! . . . 
 
 That journey into the Vosges, 1 which you were planning 
 
 of life, in the midst of the joy-breathing landscape. Youth and love 
 har lly heed the lesson: they but glance that way, and pass on. The 
 shepherd on the left less young and less happy, for he is alone feels it 
 more deeply. But the figure in the foreground, of one who has lived his 
 life, lost his crown of verdure, and is already bowed with age; the shep- 
 herd who stoops to read the inscription, "Et in Arcadia ego ," tastes 
 
 its sadness, and muses on its application. He personifies the sentiment of 
 Mme. Swetchine. For others, the charming landscape, its shadows and 
 its distances; for him, the monument. 
 
 1 They were talking of visiting the Ban-de-la-Roche, or Oberlin, a 
 Protestant pastor, greatly revered, who drew around him spirits like Mme. 
 de Kriidener. It was a place for retirement, preaching, and good works,
 
 118 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 with Mme. de Kriidener, will afford you a variety, and a great 
 pleasure. But who knows, my friend, whether to breathe for a 
 fortnight, instead of a week, a perfectly calm atmosphere would 
 not cure you of this fancy altogether? I have always heard 
 the most experienced seamen say that a calm was pleasant 
 immediately after a storm ; but that, if it lasted ever so short 
 a time, it became insupportable. When I see you believing 
 just what you wish to believe, you seem to me a true descend- 
 ant of those Greeks whom the hierophant of Thebes treated 
 like children. How shall one know one's own will, when, caught 
 with difficulty upon the wing, it escapes us, soars off, and re- 
 produces itself unceasingly under new forms ? As often as its 
 vague unrest is soothed, it arises anew from its ashes, ever 
 craving satisfaction, but never satisfied long. I am not sur- 
 prised that you should desire a change, and I believe you to be 
 perfectly sincere in your longing for repose ; but you probably 
 deceive yourself in supposing that it would suit you, for you 
 embellish it with all the colors with which we always adorn 
 what we lack. Prolonged repose suits very few people, and no 
 one less than you, whose active mind needs something to feed 
 upon. You do not yet know what it is to be constantly thrown 
 back upon yourself, the fatigue and depression which result 
 therefrom, as well as the need of being called out of self by 
 external objects. On this subject I could make out a little 
 memorial, which should be a simple recital of facts, and which, 
 like a good many other things, would be useful as material for 
 an immense work on the extravagances of human misery. . . . 
 
 The unreliability of the post, mistakes and misdirections, 
 all the obstacles which ill luck can accumulate, combined, my 
 friend, to prevent my receiving before yesterday your two let- 
 ters, that of the 12th of July, forwarded in the Galitzin 
 packet ; and that of the 18th, written after the Emperor left. 
 As to the letter which you sent by the august individual who 
 previously had been only the messenger of Heaven, I never got 
 it, unless, indeed, you were mistaken about the date, and it was 
 the same that was put in Helen Galitzin's packet. It is very 
 certain the Emperor did not forget it ; for he was kind enough 
 to say to my husband, that he had a letter for me, and that he 
 would forward it to him. My husband said no more to me 
 about it ; and I do not know whether the letter received is the 
 letter in question. How what you told me of the interview ' 
 
 which M. Ch. Eynard describes as "one of those oases which the Lord 
 prepares for his weak children in the desert of the world." 
 
 1 First interview of the Emperor and Empress after the Restoration.
 
 LIFE OP MADAME 8WETCHINE. 119 
 
 affected me ! What sweet and tender tears I shed ! For more 
 than a month, my eye has been fixed upon this point ; and my 
 hopes and wishes have anticipated the moment which was to 
 realize them. There was, too, a mixture of fear f for, do what 
 I will, black predominates on my palette. But with what 
 rapture do I wipe off that ugly black to-day, and abandon my- 
 self to the enjoyment of the perfect confidence which that part 
 of your letter inspires ! In that longed-for re-union, I seem to 
 see the sole triumph which virtue had to win, evil vanquished 
 in its last intrenchment, and under its last aspect ; and the 
 dawn of a new day of favor and blessing for Russia. Heaven 
 will complete its work, and renew in our midst the solemn act 
 of pardon which divine compassion, variously expressed, seems 
 proclaiming to the universe. For what means the late succes- 
 sion of happy events, if not that suffering Europe has made full 
 atonement for guilty Europe, and the time of reconciliation has 
 come? Ah ! let us be worthy of it ; and let our own regenera- 
 tion be the first pledge of that alliance to which God, more un- 
 mistakably than ever, has invited man. Dear friend, my heart 
 is full of joyful emotion. If, in spite of ourselves, we are ap- 
 palled, oppressed, afflicted, by the prosperity of the wicked, the 
 triumph of virtue strengthens our faith, augments our elasticity 
 of spirit, and gives us a share in the deep content of the vic- 
 tors. In such moments, one feels happy and strong, simply 
 because there are those who have persevered till they have won 
 power and happiness. . . . 
 
 You were right in concluding that I was not one of those 
 who looked for a marvellous run of unexampled good fortune 
 to establish the Emperor's credit. I have made some experi- 
 ments in this connection. No surprise has been occasioned by 
 events, nor have his noblest actions excited any. My admira- 
 tion is not as exalted as yours ; for my soul, like the antediluvian 
 earth, has all her pristine force : but it is genuine, and such as 
 a recluse may experience, bearing principally upon the things 
 least appreciated by the multitude. The interest which the 
 Emperor testifies in you is enough to awaken your gratitude ; 
 although one does not need to have danced with him before one 
 can say, from the bottom of one's heart, that he is the best 
 prince in the world. If his kindness to you, my friend, leaves 
 you the possibility of rendering him a service, profit by the 
 opportunity ; but do it with great tact. We are responsible for 
 the employment of such credit as we have with others ; and I 
 charge you not to use yours to flatter that vanity which we 
 must combat in ourselves, and never encourage in others.
 
 120 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Album of Louis de Saint Priest, and unpublished thoughts of Count de 
 Maistre. Death of the Princess de Tarente. 
 
 THE volumes of extracts, always carefully continued by 
 Mme. Swetchine, take a new form in the year 1814. 
 On the first page of a small album, we read, " Last gift of 
 Louis de Saint Priest on his leaving Russia, Oct. 29, 1814." 
 The binding of this album bears a vermilion scroll, on 
 which are engraved these words : " I, too, knew him." The 
 volume opens with some verses of M. de Saint Priest, ad- 
 dressed to Mme. Swetchine. They close as follows : 
 
 " Heurenx qui toi ressemble, aimable violette ; 
 Heureux qui comme toi cherche a vivre oublie' : 
 Aux yeux indiffe'rents cache bien ta retraite ; 
 Mais "qu'elle soit au moins ouverte a 1'amitid." * 
 
 These verses, which bear witness to the unfailing modesty 
 of Mme. Swetchine, attest also by their signature the value 
 attached to relations with her. The volume under consid- 
 eration is wholly consecrated to religious thoughts, mingled 
 with fragments from the conversation of Count de Maistre. 
 Some of these coruscations have been preserved in his 
 writings ; but here we find the original flash, the accent of 
 spontaneous inspiration. The greater part have never been 
 published. 
 
 1 " Sweet violet! blessed are those who, like thee, seek to live forgot- 
 ten. Still do thou hide thy retreat from careless eyes, but let it be ever 
 accessible to friendship."
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 121 
 
 " The Turks shut up their women," said Lord Byron, " and 
 are all the better for it." " Yes," replied Count de Maistre : 
 " they need either the four walls or the four evangelists." 
 
 Genius does not seem to derive any great support from 
 syllogisms. Its carriage is free: its manner has a touch of in- 
 spiration. We see it come, but we never see it walk. 
 
 The greatest sin against grace is to accord too much to it. 
 
 To restrain the desire of a Russian is enough to make it 
 explode. 
 
 1 would gladly preach to kings and people simultaneously, 
 and my sermon would be as follows : I would turn to their 
 majesties, and say, with a profound bow, " Sires, abuses lead to 
 revolutions;" then, addressing myself to the people, "Mes- 
 sieurs, abuses are preferable to revolutions." 
 
 In the language of the Orient, a woman is a speaking 
 flower. M. de Maistre denned a child as an angel dependent 
 on man. 
 
 "Thou shalt not kill," where is the man who even knows 
 what it is to kill ? In how many ways, to what different degrees, 
 life may be withdrawn, obstructed, destroyed ! The Devil, who 
 was a "homicide" in the beginning, has been so always, and 
 throughout his kingdom ; and it is by no means with the sword 
 that he has cut off the majority of men. 
 
 A legend which M. de Maistre greatly admired represents, 
 on the one hand, the arrival before the throne of God of the peni- 
 tent souls whom his pity admits into the eternal city ; and, on 
 the other, Satan reproaching God with his injustice: "These 
 souls have offended thee a thousand times, and I only once." 
 " Hast thou ever asked for pardon? " replies the Eternal. 
 
 It was in the same spirit that M. de Maistre altered the 
 following verses of Boileau, which doubtless he found too 
 Jansenistic : 
 
 " L'Evangile a 1'esprit n'offre de tous cote's, 
 Que penitence a faire et tourments ine'rite's ! " 1 
 
 These lines are written in Mme. Swetchine's hand, with- 
 out index to their source, and followed by these words : 
 " M. de Maistre alters them thus : " 
 
 1 " The gospel everywhere offers to the soul the choice of repentance 
 or merited torments." M. de Maistre would substitute "free grace" for 
 " repentance."
 
 122 LIFE OF MADAME SWETOHINE. 
 
 " L'Evangile a 1'esprit n'offre de tons cote's, 
 MiseVicorde offerte et tourments me'rite's." 
 
 "No man has ceased to believe in God until be bas desired 
 to annihilate him." 
 
 " Submission, which exposes one to believing too much, ex- 
 poses to nothing. Pride, which exposes one to believing too 
 little, exposes to every thing. 
 
 The play of children is business, and the business of men is 
 play, n'est cepas, madam? 
 
 The last thoughts are in Count de Maistre's own hand, 
 preceded and followed by selections from Massillon and 
 Pascal, and German poetry, also in his writing. 
 
 Verses inscribed by Count de Maistre on the Monument of Descartes. 
 
 " Esclave dans les murs du cloitre et de 1'^cole, 
 La raison n'osait rien. Je vins briser ses fers. 
 Je fletris de vieux mots la science frivole, 
 Et c'est moi que donnai Newton a 1'univers." 1 
 
 We have already had a glimpse, through Mme. Swet- 
 chine's correspondence with her friend, of her rapid prog- 
 
 1 " Immured as a slave in the cloister and school, Reason was power- 
 less. I came to break her chains. I branded as obsolete their superficial 
 science, and it was I who gave Newton to the world." 
 
 Although M. De Maistre cannot be considered a detractor of Des- 
 cartes, I hesitated to attribute these verses to him merely on the faith of 
 the ambiguous compilation which precedes them. In addressing II. 
 Cousin, I believed that I was submitting my doubt to the man most capa- 
 ble of resolving it. I had the honor to receive from him the following 
 reply: "The verse which you send me is both beautiful and true. It 
 certainly was Descartes who gave Newton to the universe: for the 
 supreme difficulty was to comprehend that the problem of the construction 
 of the worlds was a problem in mechanics; and Descartes was the first 
 who so conceived it. The problem, once fairly stated, has been resolved 
 by Huyghens and Newton successively. It is then to Descartes, as to the 
 first discoverer, that we must refer the system of the universe, and a por- 
 tion of Newton's glory. M. de Maistre, therefore, was perfectly right; 
 and his verse was true in toto. I cannot say whether this verse of M. de 
 Maistre's is generally known ; but it was new to me. Besides, upon what 
 monument of Descartes could it have been placed ? Descartes never had
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 123 
 
 ress in pious emotions and instinctive aspirations after 
 truth. In this healthful movement, much was due to her 
 association with the French emigres and their example. 
 "We are now to note another link in that invisible chain 
 which associates with France the last struggles and the 
 definitive victory of that great soul. 
 
 The Chevalier d'Augard had recently died, as he had 
 lived, in a frame of the most exalted piety. The Princess 
 de Tarente, in her turn, was near her end. She had never 
 dreamed of quitting the land of the stranger, while the 
 house of Bourbon still languished in exile. With her, as 
 with the rest of the world, the Emperor Paul had caused 
 disgrace to follow swiftly upon favor ; but the society of 
 St. Petersburg had never ceased to lavish upon her every 
 testimonial of affection and respect. Count Golowine had 
 offered her rooms in his house ; and that house was almost 
 a home to her. Count Golowine's daughters divided their 
 devotion between their mother and their illustrious guest. 
 The Princess de Tarente held her sway rather by the 
 authority of virtue than by superiority of mind. Her 
 political ideas were remarkable neither for depth of wis- 
 dom nor acuteness of penetration ; but they were mixed 
 
 a monument: when his remains were brought back from Sweden to Paris, 
 they were temporarily deposited in St. Genevieve; and his disciples of 
 every rank assembled to hear his funeral oration, which was to be pro- 
 nounced by M. 1'Abbe" Lallemont, the university orator of the fourteenth 
 century. A mandate of the king arrested the ceremony, and closed the 
 learned orator's mouth. The body of Descartes was at St. Germain des 
 Pres. At the Restoration, it was transferred to the cemetery of Pere la 
 Chaise. His head has been handed about in the amphitheatres of the 
 Museum of Natural History. There has not been, for forty years, a com- 
 plete French edition of his works. My own is unworthy of him. 1 was 
 too young for such an enterprise. I therefore honor Count de Maistre, if, 
 as I suppose, he wrote this verse to be engraved on the monument which 
 he desired to have erected to Descartes."
 
 124 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 up with such stately traditions and such pathetic misfor- 
 tunes, that one easily forgave her fixed contemplation of 
 the past, and never approached her without being lifted 
 above one's self by veneration and tenderness. 
 
 As soon as the news of the Restoration resounded in 
 St. Petersburg, society, en masse, and by a spontaneous 
 impulse, hastened to Count Golowine's to congratulate the 
 Princess de Tarente, and rejoice in her joy. This Restora- 
 tion was the signal for her return to France. She began 
 immediately to prepare for her departure, but with a 
 certain moderation, the last tribute of gratitude towards 
 her friends. The Emperor Alexander, on his part, desired 
 to assure her a passage on board a man-of-war which 
 should be worthy of her and of himself. She seemed to 
 be touching the limit of all her soul's sorrows and sacri- 
 fices ; but it was an everlasting reward which she was 
 about to receive. 
 
 The eldest daughter of Count Golowine has kept a 
 faithful and very affecting journal of the last moments 
 of this noble life: 1 
 
 " ' Every emotion of happiness which new events occasioned 
 her seemed,' says Mile. Golowine, ' to mingle physical suffer- 
 ing with her joy. An indescribably sweet melancholy pervaded 
 her features. We had never seen her happy, and we thought 
 this was her way of being so.'" 
 
 On Ascension Day, May, 1814, when at mass, she felt 
 seriously indisposed. A severe chill seized her ; and this 
 
 1 Prascovie Golowine married Count Fridero, a Pole, aide-de-camp of 
 Prince Poniatowski, and after the reconstruction of Poland, in 1816, 
 marshal of the court of Warsaw. Mme. la Comtesse Fridero has long 
 resided in France. To her I owe the communication of this precious 
 journal, and much other information. The friends of Mme. Swetchine 
 should be unspeakably grateful to her.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 125 
 
 accident the day and the place appeared to her like 
 a warning. 
 
 " 'Before leaving us for ever, 1 resumes Mile. Golowine, 'she 
 must needs give us an example of the sole virtue which she had 
 not yet been called upon to practise. During all the course 
 of her malady, her goodness never failed. She had not the 
 self-conscious delicacy of the world, which, under the specious 
 pretext of sparing others fatiguing cares, would conceal the 
 sufferings of that body on which we set so high a value. She 
 submitted to the most painful prescriptions with that simplicity 
 which was a part of her nature, and which everywhere made 
 her at home with all that is good. She always had that kindly 
 forethought which understands the means of giving pleasure. 
 Several times she praised me in my father's presence, endeavor- 
 ing to compensate me by his gratification for the sacrifice which 
 she regretted to impose. Every time my father entered her 
 chamber and approached her bed, she received him with as 
 much politeness as if she had been in full health, and never 
 once failed to concern herself about the place where he would 
 be most comfortable.' " 
 
 One morning, guided by a thoughtful affection, the Count 
 and Countess Golowine sent to the Princess's room a lily 
 in full flower. The invalid contemplated it fondly, clasped 
 her hands, and cried, " Dear lilies, may Heaven always pro- 
 tect you ! " 
 
 Father Rosaven bestowed upon her, with deep tender- 
 ness, all the consolations of his ministry. In the intervals 
 of his visits, Mme. de Tarente had Mile. Golowine read to 
 her holy books and prayers. She was particularly moved 
 as she listened to the prayer for patience. The first day 
 they read it to her entire ; but, perceiving that it specified 
 many kinds of patience, she said on the morrow, " My 
 child, only read the part about sickness : I have no injuries 
 to forgive." "And yet," replied Mile. Golowine, "you 
 have many wrongs to forget." " No," answered the wor- 
 thy friend of Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette, "no one
 
 126 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 has wronged me ; or, if I had forgotten it, this is not the 
 moment to renew the remembrance." 
 
 When they heard her speak thus, and hold unceasing 
 communion with her God, they lost all hope of keeping 
 her long on earth. " But," adds Mile. Golowine, in her 
 pious narrative, " I never ceased to listen to her ; and I 
 would rather have followed than detained her ! " 
 
 When Father Rosaven, after having administered ex- 
 treme unction, exhorted her once more to an utter renun- 
 ciation of earthly ties, she replied with energy, " My God ! 
 thou knowest that I long ago sacrificed to thee what 
 I held dearest, the happiness of seeing my king in his 
 native land." These words were almost the last which 
 her dying lips were able to articulate distinctly ; and, after 
 a brief agony of a few hours, she expired on the 22d of 
 June, 1814. 
 
 It was Count Golowine's wish, that her remains, at least, 
 should not be detained in exile. The Russian physicians 
 proceeded to embalm her ; and that heart, so profoundly 
 French, came to France, to rest in the chapel of Videville, 
 under the guardianship of the last of the Chatillon, her 
 sister, the Duchess of Uzes. 
 
 The Princess de Tarente followed a rule of spiritual 
 life which had been given her by the Bishop of Boulogne. 
 This code, which embraced and provided for the slightest 
 actions of every day, was communicated to Mme. Swet- 
 chine, and copied in full in her own hand into the volume 
 of M. de Saint Priest, together with several eloquent and 
 fervent prayers. The whole is prefaced by these lines : 
 " Copied from a little note-book in the handwriting of the 
 Princess de Tarente, and found among her papers. Copied 
 on the 15th of August, 1815, at Bariatinski House." 
 
 Sundry notes from Count de Maistre, carefully preserved
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 127 
 
 by Mme. Swetchine, are evidently to be referred to the 
 same epoch, although many of them have no dates : 
 
 The anxiety I have endured on your account, madame, 
 can hardly be expressed. They said to me, at your door, 
 Otchen ne khorocho. 1 It did not need so much as that to put 
 me in the same case. I trembled in all my limbs, lest your 
 indisposition should become an illness. The fears of all 
 your friends are quieted ; but I should thank you for your 
 courtesy, if you would be so kind as to relieve me, in particular, 
 of these alanns in future. It was with the most lively and 
 tender disquiet, madame, that I haunted your door for informa- 
 tion about your health. I regard in the light of lost moments 
 those in which we stood somewhat in awe of one another, 
 and seek to indemnify myself for them by the fulness of love and 
 confidence that I owe you. On your side, madame, you will 
 do as you please : but I also count a little on your indulgent 
 kindness ; for I would neglect nothing which might help to 
 maintain, in its integrity, an attachment which I prize so highly, 
 and by which I am so infinitely honored. 
 
 Since I became androgynous, I have necessarily been a 
 trifle dissipated. This evening, I am going to a ball. It is the 
 thing I dread most on earth, after a cold bath ; but, when one 
 is of both sexes, one must dance. Previously, I shall dine with 
 the Princess Belosselski and twenty-five or thirty particular 
 friends. But, still earlier, I shall have the honor of paying my 
 respects to you between twelve and one o'clock, and of telling 
 you, by word of mouth, a part at least of what, in my own 
 opinion, I am expressing here so feebly. My whole seraglio 
 embraces you tenderly : you are often spoken of here, and in 
 the highest terms, I assure you. 
 
 Tuesday, 3d. 
 
 The Tuesdays pass, madame, and the Fridays follow them, 
 and you are not at home. What are you doing inside your 
 cage? When I reflect, that yesterday we could not linger, 
 after dinner, upon the terrace of M. le Baron Blom, I fear that 
 you are pierced and transpierced by the sea wind. 2 I do not 
 see that you have in your vicinity a single person capable of 
 being either your mi, sol, or do. Now, when one string 
 sounds alone, it may be as pure and sonorous as you please ; 
 
 1 Not at all well. 
 
 2 An allusion to Peterhof, which is situated on the seashore.
 
 128 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 but it will never be music. You see, madame, that, even in a 
 note, I cannot help foiling into metaphysics. But there is no 
 metaphysics about the friendship which constantly takes me to 
 your cage, and makes me dread all the winds (draughts and 
 other) of the land and sea. His Excellency, M. le General 
 Rodolphe, is going to-day to take leave of the Strellanians. 1 
 I charge him with this billet ; and I charge him still more 
 strongly to see you face to face, if possible, and bring me 
 news of you, which will not prevent, in case your beneficent 
 hand should make me a present of a few lines, my receiving 
 them with gratitude. Still, I do not ask for them ; for I do not 
 want to weary you. 
 
 I am leading here the life with which you are familiar. It 
 has some agreeable interiors ; but the rest, ne vaut pas le 
 diable, and I don't see the slightest gleam on the horizon. 
 The chain of destiny leads him who obeys, and drags him who 
 resists it. Let us advance with a good grace, only praying 
 that we may be allowed to halt whenever we encounter some 
 good fortune on our way ; as, for instance, a cage inhabited by 
 a bird like Sophie, whom I love and venerate with all my 
 heart. 
 
 Apropos, madame, if it was proposed to pay you a visit 
 with the ambassador, for instance, what time would suit you 
 best? 2 Here, madame, is a small treatise, which is presented 
 to you as a friend of the house. I wish that, under this miti- 
 gated form, it might obtain a new reading from you. 
 
 Have you, dear madame, the treaty of the 30th of May ? 
 There is your friend declared an alien to France, to Savoy, 
 and to Piedmont. 3 We shall see whether Providence has m 
 store any unexpected compensation. I am prepared for any 
 thing ; and I am particularly prepared not to be astonished at 
 
 1 Strelna is an imperial pleasure-house, around which are grouped 
 some elegant residences, occupied by personages of the court and their 
 families. 
 
 2 The ambassador of Naples is meant, the Duke of Serra-Capriola, 
 with whom Count de Maistre was very intimate, and in perfect intel- 
 lectual sympathy. This colleague of M. de Maistre was the only one to 
 whom he confessed (as we see in this note in which they are also confided 
 to Mine. Swetchine) his incessant trials with the court of Sardinia. 
 
 8 By the treaty of 1814, Chauibdry remained with France, and M. de 
 Maistre continued ambassador of the King of Sardinia. Savoy was 
 restored to the sceptre of the King of Sardinia, only by the treaty of 
 1815.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCIIINE. 129 
 
 any thing. Meanwhile, I have asked, with fresh importunities, 
 to be allowed to remain where I am ; but the thing appears to 
 me so just, so reasonable, and so natural, that, to tell the 
 truth, I quite despair of it. 
 
 What think you of the death of that poor Princess de 
 Tarente ? Yesterday, at five o'clock in the afternoon, after an 
 extraordinary illness, she left us for heaven, where she will 
 meet again Moreau and Rapatelle : for the laws of Menu, the 
 son of Brahma, in whom I believe with all my heart, assure us 
 that all soldiers dying on the field of battle are certain of sal- 
 vation. We may say with truth, that Providence is convoking 
 a new assembly, and dismissing, one after another, the mem- 
 bers of the old. Ah, how little he needs us ! The Princess 
 fulfilled her duty perfectly ; yet she believed, like so many in- 
 valids, that she had not yet reached the end of life. You may 
 rely on this. Those of the St. Petersburg ladies who are most 
 learned in medicine (and there are a good many of them) , say 
 that it was a very bad thing to consult only three English 
 physicians, Rogerson, Chrigton, and Leygton, since phy- 
 sicians of the same nation never contradict each other, and it 
 is quite like having only one ; whereas a German would have 
 pulled her through (perhaps !) . Upon this point, however, 
 madame, as on so many others, I am quite of your mind. 
 
 This death will have a great influence on the household that 
 witnessed it. They carried the Princess from the room which 
 you know, into the library. She had the best attendance, 
 as you may imagine ; but care and medicine were alike useless. 
 She died at the age of fifty precisely, and, what is very sin- 
 gular, at the very moment when nature was calling her for 
 the la^t time by her nom de femme. 
 
 The last offshoot of the house of Chatillon dies at St. 
 Petersburg, while the King of France, stiffened by the gout, is 
 supported upon the arm of his cousin. Such is the law. 
 Rome perishes ; all things change ; every thing is precipitated 
 towards the. mighty ocean. 
 
 " Et rien afin que tout dure, 
 Ne dure dternellement." * 
 
 It was Malherbe who said that ; and it is not so bad. 
 
 Adieu, a thousand times, dear madame ! If you believe 
 that we are becoming used to your absence, you deceive your- 
 self gravely. I am mortally tried, and mortally isolated. It 
 
 1 "And that the universe may endure, no one thing endures for 
 ever." 
 
 9
 
 130 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHIXE. 
 
 seems to me that my berth is getting uneasy, and that I am 
 not wanted here. Ah ! if I must needs go somewhere, I 
 am ready to go with Mme. de Tarente. I have nothing more 
 to say. Accept, madame, my sincere and affectionate homage. 
 Many compliments to good Nadinka. What do you think of 
 the state of her health ? 
 
 Count de Maistre was not deceived in his presentiment 
 of the influence which the sight of a beautiful life and 
 death would exert over a family worthy of so lofty a les- 
 son. The Princess de Tarente discharged her debt of 
 hospitality, by leaving behind her the worship of the true 
 faith united to the worship of her memory. 1 
 
 More than fifty years afterward, Mme. Swetchine, in 
 her turn, received the affectionate hospitalities of the 
 feudal castle of Fleury, which had passed from the hands 
 of the Prince de Tarente into those of his nephew, the 
 Prince de Talmont, and the Countess Larochejacque- 
 lein. It was there that Mme. Swetchine addressed to the 
 author of the journal of Mme. de Tarente's last moments 
 the following lines : 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS FRIDERO. 
 
 FLEURT. 
 
 MY DEAR PACHE,* You must be very lonely without your 
 son. I do not doubt that you rule your lonely state with cour- 
 age ; but he who speaks of ruling implies coercion, and sug- 
 gests something which, for that very reason, has not the charm 
 of the running stream. In a little apartment occupied by the 
 Princess Talmont, and which they had occasion to open the 
 other day, I was moved to see, among the pictures which 
 adorned the walls, the interior of the library Rue de la Per- 
 spective, with the inscription, "Mme. la Princesse de Tarente, 
 in the cabinet of Mme. la Princesse Golowine." These relics 
 of the past are always affecting. Adieu, my dear Pache ! My 
 best love. 
 
 1 The second son of Countess Fridero embraced, in France, the ecclesi- 
 astical profession. 
 
 2 Pache is a familiar derivative of Prascovie.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 131 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Conversion of Mme. Swetchine. 
 
 WE have now arrived at the epoch when Mme. Swet- 
 chine formed the determination of resolving her 
 doubts by a course of searching study, which issued in 
 her acceptance of the Catholic faith. 
 
 The life of St. Petersburg, crowded as it was for Mme. 
 Swetchine by numerous family cares and benevolent en- 
 gagements, which she neither could nor would evade, was 
 incompatible with the laborious research in which she 
 longed to engage. The General's health had been tempo- 
 rarily impaired : he was entering upon his sixtieth year ; 
 and, though phlegmatic by nature, he felt keenly every 
 absence of Mme. Swetchine. The Princess Gargarin was 
 devoted to the education of her five children, and could 
 not leave St. Petersburg. Mme. Swetchine therefore 
 sought to accomplish her object without putting between 
 herself and her loved ones a distance which would involve 
 complete separation. One of the noted men of Russia, 
 Prince Bariatinsky, possessed a country-seat which went 
 by the name of Bariatinsky House, in the neighborhood 
 of St. Petersburg, and agreeably situated on the shore of 
 the Gulf of Finland. Mme. Swetchine obtained from 
 Prince Bariatinsky the rent of this peaceful and pic- 
 turesque dwelling, and retired thither in the early days 
 of June, 1815, accompanied only by her adopted daughter, 
 Nadine, and a carefully selected library, which she pro- 
 posed to exhaust.
 
 132 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 A small number of friends received her confidence. 
 Count de Maistre was in the first rank of the initiated ; 
 but he refused her his approbation. He disliked the plan, 
 and doubted its effect. The volume of correspondence 
 published by his son contains a long letter in which M. de 
 Maistre sums up his objections with eloquent frankness: 
 
 "Never, madame," he wrote on the 31st of July, 1815, 
 " never will you reach the goal by the way which you have 
 taken : you will be overwhelmed by fatigue ; you will groan in 
 spirit, but without unction and without consolation ; you will 
 be a prey to an indescribable dry anguish, which will rend your 
 heart-strings, one after another, but never relieve either your 
 conscience or your pride. 
 
 "At present, you are reading Fleury, who was condemned 
 by the sovereign pontiff, that you may know exactly what doc- 
 trine to hold concerning his sovereignty. That is very well, 
 madame ; but, when you have finished, I advise you to read 
 the refutation of Fleury, by Dr. Marchetti. Then you will 
 read Frebonius against the Roman see, and subsequently, in 
 the capacity of a judge who hears both parties, the Anti-Fre- 
 bonius of the Abbe" Zacharia, there are only eight volumes 
 octavo : that is nothing ! Then, if you take my advice, 
 madame, you will learn Greek, that you may know precisely 
 what is meant by that famous hegemony which St. Irenseus 
 attributed to the Romish Church in the third century, in ac- 
 cordance with ancient tradition : you will want to know, in 
 short, whether the word signifies the pre-eminence of the Romish 
 Church or the supremacy of the Romish Church, or the prin- 
 cipality of the Romish Church or the jurisdiction of the Ro- 
 mish Church, &c. The celebrated Cardinal Orsi undertook to 
 refute Fleury, and found so many errors in him, that he deter- 
 mined to write a new history of the Church ; being of the 
 opinion that a good history is the best refutation of a bad one. 
 He began upon his new history, and died at the twentieth 
 quarto volume, which does not complete the sixth century. 
 You must read this too, madame, I assure you, or you will 
 never find peace." 
 
 Count de Maistre supposed himself to be uttering a 
 defiance. He was but tracing a programme which was 
 followed in detail. During the brief days and intermin-
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 133 
 
 able nights of the Russian autumn and winter, Mme. 
 Svvetchine was unceasingly occupied in examining the 
 most contradictory documents, which she had laboriously 
 amassed in advance. She ascended to the sources of his- 
 tory ; she compared dates ; she studied languages ; over 
 and above all, she gave her soul to prayer. The Princess 
 Alexis Galitzin, already a Catholic, had composed an in- 
 vocation to God, in which she interceded for the conver 
 sion of her friend ; and this prayer she had repeated daily, 
 ever since the 10th of January, 1810. 
 
 Of the innumerable elements which entered into her con- 
 version, one only has been preserved to us intact, the one 
 which, of all others, exercised the most enlightening and 
 subduing influence upon her mind, Fleury. Bossuet 
 was also one of her favorite authors ; and, in the album 
 of M. de Saint Priest, we find a long extract from a dis- 
 course on the unity of the Church, bearing this date : 
 "Sept. 2, 1815. Bariatinsky House." 
 
 The searching analysis of Fleury, in which she engaged, 
 may be found entire in a folio volume of four hundred and 
 fifty pages, filled with the closest and finest of her writing. 
 This volume, like all the rest, consists of separate note- 
 books, subsequently bound together, and bears the title, 
 " The Ecclesiastical History of Fleury ; comprising in 
 twenty-four volumes the thirty-six of the Paris edition. 
 Caen." 
 
 Her exquisite good sense had early taught her, that the 
 question at issue between the Latin and Greek churches 
 was not, strictly speaking, a question of doctrine, but, pri- 
 marily and pre-eminently, an historical question. She 
 therefore analyzed most carefully the acts of the principal 
 oecumenical councils assembled in the East; noting par- 
 ticularly whatever in those acts attested most clearly the
 
 134. LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 supremacy of the pope. Her attention was also directed 
 to the history of Photius, his intrusion into the see 
 of Constantinople, his deposition, his restoration ; and to 
 the overwhelming proof, incidentally furnished by these 
 events, that the authority of the sovereign pontiffs was 
 recognized and accepted at Constantinople. Through this 
 historic labyrinth, a guide was indispensable ; and Mme. 
 Swetchine desired one who should be impartial; and, as 
 far as might be, respected by both parties. She was con- 
 fident of finding this union of qualities in Fleury. Plato, 
 the celebrated Archbishop of Moscow, lauded him to the 
 skies ; the Protestants spoke of him with respect ; and he 
 was not absolutely rejected by the Catholics. 
 
 The parts of her works are so closely interdependent, 
 that it is impossible to detach any thing from it ; but per- 
 haps the volume in its entirety may one day be published 
 with profit, and dedicated to the whole Russian nation. 
 Only the mottoes and some marginal notes will be intro- 
 duced here, since they give some clew to her intellectual 
 preferences, and the passages on which her thought loved 
 to dwell. 
 
 The motto on the first note-book is : 
 
 " Doubt is always ignorance." 
 
 The motto on the second is in the English language : 
 
 " To take up half, and half on trust to try, 
 Name it not faith, but bungling bigotry." 
 
 Several passages are accompanied by marginal notes or 
 braces in pencil. Some of these notes dispute the text ; 
 others complete it. In the second book, Mme. Swetchine 
 marks with a pencil-line the following definition of faith : 
 
 " Faith is a compendious knowledge of the most necessary 
 truths. Science is a conclusive demonstration of what we
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 135 
 
 have learned by faith. Philosophy is a preparation for the 
 faith on which science is founded. Saint Clement says that it 
 is weakness to fear pagan philosophy. The faith which can 
 be shattered by such arguments is very fragile. Truth is im- 
 pregnable : error destroys itself." 
 
 Motto of the third book : 
 
 " The first truth which it is necessary to believe is, that we 
 must believe nothing lightly." Tertullian. 
 
 In the third book, there is a peculiar mark appended to 
 the following lines. It is easy to understand that they had 
 a poignant application for Mme. Swetchine. 
 
 Tertullian says of Christian marriage: 
 
 " The blessing of the Church is its seal. The angels carry it 
 to the heavenly Father for ratification. Two believing souls 
 bear the same yoke : they are one fiesh and one mind. They 
 pray, they bow, they fast in company. They instruct and 
 exhort one another : they are together in the church, at the 
 Lord's table, in persecution, in consolation. They conceal 
 nought from one another: they do not weary one another. 
 They may visit the sick freely ; give alms without constraint ; 
 take their share of sacrifices without anxiety. They sing 
 psalms and hymns together, and incite one another to the 
 praise of God." 
 
 Pencil-mark : 
 
 "The fear of renouncing pleasure deters more persons 
 from Christianity than the fear of death." 
 
 Pencil-mark : 
 
 " The Lord says in the Gospel, ' I am the truth,' and not, 
 ' I am the custom.' " 
 
 Marginal note: 
 
 " How many times have we seen the destruction of religion 
 ready to be consummated ! and, after each severer test, she 
 rises again, grander, stronger, more majestic than before. I 
 am not sure that there are not as many proofs of her divinity 
 in her combats as in her victories. 
 
 " A young Roman virgin, Theodora, had resisted outrage, 
 and was condemned to death. A Christian, named Didymus,
 
 136 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 enters her prison, disguised as a soldier, and releases her. 
 The pretor causes Didymus to be seized, and led to execution. 
 Theodora learns it, and immediately presents herself to the 
 executioner to dispute his right to the martyr. ' It is I,' said 
 Didymus, ' who was condemned.' ' But I,' said Theodora, 
 ' will not be guilty of your death. I consented that you should 
 save my honor, but not my life. I fled from disgrace, not 
 death. If you had deprived me of martyrdom, you would 
 have wronged me.' The prayers of both were granted : they 
 died together." 
 
 To this passage is appended the following marginal 
 note : 
 
 "How far below the beauty of this is the most touching 
 incident of pagan antiquity ! The generous devotion of Ores- 
 tes and Pylades was dictated by friendship : the sorrow of sur- 
 viving one another urged them to it. Here we have nothing 
 of the human me, nor of its duality, which is more human still, 
 but a broad and warm charity, the fruit of regeneration and 
 grace. How admirable are the dialogues of the martyrs among 
 themselves or with their judges ! We admire Corneille less in 
 Polyeuctes, when we come to draw from the sources whence 
 he drew, and to which he owes his most magnificent scenes. 
 Many minds despise the simplicity of these stories ; and yet, be- 
 side their essential sublimity, they contain new laws, new ideas, 
 and new manners ; and, as ever in the early days of nations 
 and of institutions, here we find traces of that eloquence which 
 the lapse of ages always weakens. Here are lightning-like 
 flashes of thought and feeling, nobility, unstudied power. All 
 which can lift us above ourselves, all which exalts and fortifies 
 the soul, may be found in the sublime utterances of that army 
 of martyrs of every age and condition. Oflen eternity inter- 
 rupts them, and in eternity they finish the canticle of thanks 
 and praise which they began in tears and torture." 
 
 Motto of the sixth book : 
 
 "O God of grace! let me not perish in the vortex of my 
 own thoughts ! " Werner, February 24ith. 
 
 Pencil-mark at the close of a passage on the Trinity: 
 
 "Human knowledge goes no further. The cherubim cover 
 the rest with their wings." 
 
 Marginal note :
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 137 
 
 " The fragment of St. Hilary on the grounds of his conver- 
 sion appears to me very fine. His thoughts are linked to- 
 f ether, and his convictions follow unresistingly along the swift 
 eclivity which conducts from genuine philosophy to true re- 
 ligion. Christianity, even before it is accepted, is, as it were, 
 outlined in truly noble souls. It is deposited there in germ ; 
 and the little seed grows up in the shadow of humility to be 
 an impenetrable asylum from every storm." 
 
 Motto of the eighth book : 
 
 " There were no vain disputes for the display of intellect, 
 but a steady investigation of truth." Fleury, speaking of St. 
 Augustine and his disciples. 
 
 Pencil-mark : 
 
 "Prudent suggestions for those who would hold intercourse 
 about divine things, by St. Gregory de Nazianze : ' Not that 
 we should not always think, of God : we should think of him 
 oftener than we breathe ; but we must only speak of him at 
 suitable times.'" 
 
 Motto of the ninth book : 
 
 " Sincere effort is rewarded." Werner, February 2ith. 
 
 Pencil-mark : 
 
 " I have desired to illustrate the truth, that to unite politi- 
 cal to sacerdotal power is to blend incompatibilities. An- 
 tiquity had priests who were judges. The Egyptians and 
 Hebrews were long governed by their priests ; but, in my 
 opinion, since this divine work has been humanly managed, 
 God has separated the two orders of life. He has declared 
 the one political, and the other sacred. The one he has dedi- 
 cated to material things ; the other, to himself. Politicians 
 are to devote themselves to action ; priests, to prayer. Why 
 would you join what God has put asunder, and impose on us 
 an unsuitable charge ? Do you need protection ? Address 
 yourself to him who administers the laws. Do you need God ? 
 Go to the bishop." 
 
 Motto of the twelfth book : 
 
 " God draws near to those who are uninfluenced by passion, 
 and in the frame of mind which suits him ; but, when one acts 
 in wrath, how can the Holy Spirit come to him ? that Spirit
 
 138 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 which passion would expel even from a soul where he had 
 previously dwelt." Synesius to Theophilus of Alexandria. 
 
 Motto of the thirteenth book : 
 
 "The Church must light its candle at the old lamp." 
 Waverley. 
 
 Mark : 
 
 " St. Gregory to Domitian, who had been to Constanti- 
 nople to preach : ' Though I am grieved that the Emperor of 
 Persia is not converted, it does not diminish my joy in the fact 
 that you have preached to him the faith of Christ ; for you will 
 have your reward. The Ethiopian may come out of the bath 
 as black as he went in ; but none the less is the bath-keeper 
 paid.' " 
 
 Motto of the fourteenth book : 
 " True faith is never shaken." 
 
 We find by the dates, that the ardor and intensity of her 
 work redoubled as it advanced. The books in the second 
 half of the volume follow one another weekly. From the 
 1st to the 25th of November, Mme. Swetchine composed 
 and wrote three hundred pages of enormous size. In two 
 days, from the 25th to the 27th of November, she wrote 
 twenty-six. 
 
 Motto of the fifteenth book, 8th of November, 1815. 
 
 "Prejudice sees not clearly; but aversion sees not at all." 
 Letter from St. Isidore de Peluse to St. Cyril. 
 
 Pencil-mark : 
 
 " As to images, we must not portray what has never been ; 
 but since, in the incarnation of God, all was real, he was born, 
 he wrought miracles, he suffered, and rose again, I would to 
 God that heaven, earth, and sea, all animals and all plants, 
 might reiterate these marvels in speech, in writing, and in 
 painting ! " St. Germain. 
 
 Motto in the sixteenth book, 16th of November:
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 139 
 
 THE PATRIARCH NICEPHORUS TO LEON THE ISAURIAN. 
 
 My lord, do not disturb the order of the Church. The 
 apostle says that God has ordained priests, prophets, apostles, 
 teachers ; but he does not speak of emperors. 
 
 A marginal note of " Admirable discourse " is appended 
 to the following passage : 
 
 "When Zacharia was ordained Bishop by Photius, he desired 
 to reply. The Secretary of Constantine then mounted the 
 tribune, and read a long discourse in the Emperor's name, ex- 
 horting schismatics to re-union. ' Sound,' said he, ' the depths 
 of your conscience, and you will find that you did wrong to 
 withdraw. We are at the last hour, my brethren : the Judge 
 is at the door ; let him not surprise us outside his church. Let 
 us not be ashamed of revealing our malady in order to seek 
 relief. If you fear this mortification so much, I will show an 
 example of self-abasement. I will be the first to prostrate 
 myself upon the pavement, despite my purple and my diadems : 
 mount upon my shoulders ; walk over my head and over my 
 eyes. I am ready to suffer all, if I may see the church re- 
 united, and save my own soul." 
 
 Motto of the eighteenth book, Nov. 25. 
 
 "Truth is only developed in the hour of need: time, and 
 not man, discovers it." Bonald. 
 
 Motto of the nineteenth book, Nov. 27. 
 
 " The heavenly hosts have only one will : men have many." 
 Words of St. Arsenus, the recluse. 
 
 The last pencil-mark is appended to the refutation of the 
 fable of Pope Joan. 
 
 At the end of the first book, we read, " Finished the 9th 
 of June, 1813." On the last page of the completed vol- 
 ume, " Dec. 4, 1815." This prodigious compilation was 
 thus undertaken and accomplished in the space of six 
 months. 
 
 Before Mme. Swetchine had achieved this labor, light 
 dawned upon her mind. We may safely say that truth
 
 140 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 never won a more complete victory over a heart at once 
 more sweet and more refractory. From a Christless edu- 
 cation, from the scepticism which shrouded her youth, she 
 did not arrive by a single leap at Catholicism. Subdued, 
 in the first place, by the proofs which establish the divinity 
 of Jesus Christ and the inspiration of the gospel, she 
 began by the submissive and loving practice of the Greek 
 religion. She paused then to consider the constitution of 
 the church universal, the organization of the hierarchy, 
 and the pre-eminence of St. Peter's successor. Finally, 
 she comprehended, that, in the presence of two separate 
 and mutually exclusive churches, she could not remain 
 neutral ; that one only could merit the sacred title of the 
 bride of Jesus Christ ; and that, this church once identified, 
 it was necessary to belong to it. Naturally distrustful of 
 sects and innovators, as we have seen in her correspond- 
 ence with Mile. Stourdza, instinctively inclining towards 
 tradition, she could not long endure a state of vague and 
 unsatisfactory opinions on religious subjects. She there- 
 fore took her way across contradiction and doubt, but 
 without precipitation, by measured steps, and never plant- 
 ing her foot upon the earth till she had become convinced 
 of its solidity. Once introduced to the heart of the Catho- 
 lic Church, the magnificent organization of its priesthood 
 constantly attracted her intellect, and transported her with 
 admiration ; and she more than once expressed her aston- 
 ishment, that M. Frayssinous, in his lectures, should almost 
 entirely have disregarded it. 
 
 The papers of Mme. Swetchine have been vainly 
 searched for a record or precise souvenir of her conversion 
 to Catholicism. Her unwillingness to speak of herself, 
 and especially to adduce herself as an example, doubtless 
 deterred her from making such. She had also an addi-
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 141 
 
 tional motive, originating in the same virtue. With a 
 sincerity and depth of faith which, while she lived, was 
 never for an instant belied, Mme. Swetchine always attrib- 
 uted the good in herself to the pure grace of God alone. 
 
 We should thus have lost all trace of the most solemn 
 and precious day of her life, if her constant habit of inter- 
 spersing the notes she took with some of her own private 
 thoughts had not accidentally surprised and fixed a con- 
 fession. In the tenth volume of her collected extracts, 
 without preparation or indication of any sort, we read as 
 follows : 
 
 BARIATINSKY HOUSE, Aug. 31, 1815. 
 
 Happy day ! when the darkness of my mind yielded to the 
 fiat lux ! spoken by a celestial voice in the depths of my con- 
 science. Cloudless brightness does not yet pervade my soul ; 
 but the harbinger of day has appeared, and has shown me the 
 patli I am to follow. My God ! thou art as merciful as I am 
 obstinate. My God ! thy will be done. Teach me not merely 
 to submit to it, but to love it, to delight in it, to take it for 
 the sole guide of my actions and my thoughts. I owe to thee, 
 to-day, the first moments of happiness I have tasted for many 
 years. Thou wilt perpetuate this happiness, O compassionate 
 Father ! if only to encourage me in my sacrifice, and give me 
 strength to accomplish it. Inspire me : it is thy truth I seek. 
 Thy truth, I trust, 1 have found : thy truth I adore. If I should 
 go astray (oh, let me die sooner ! ), may a miracle of thy good- 
 ness restore me to the frame of mind from which, as I have 
 reason to believe, a miracle has delivered me. O God ! have 
 compassion on my sorrows past, on the sufferings whose 
 memory is almost wiped out to-day, on the hopes which sustain 
 my heart at this moment. I feel happy : yes, I am so. Can 
 it be transitory ? Shall I be condemned to lose the faith which 
 thrills me ? to sink once more into dimness and uncertainty ? 
 Doubtless, I deserve it ; but, O my God ! dost thou regulate 
 thy favors by our deserts ? dost thou not rather make them 
 infinite, like thyself ? I throw myself into thy arms ! I beseech 
 thee ! I offer thee my tears and my joy ! Deign to enlighten 
 me fully, and inspire me with the desire of living to thee alone, 
 and with the strength I need to remain steadfast to this resolu- 
 tion. I ask it in the name of thy son. our Lord Jesus Christ. 
 By his cross and passion, I hope to obtain it. 
 
 Tuesday, quarter before twelve.
 
 142 LIFE OF MADA.ME SWETCHINE. 
 
 A note of similar character, left loose in a shapeless 
 note-book which was not even thought worth binding, 
 gives us some further information. The note is as fol- 
 lows : 
 
 My last Greek communion, on the 20th of June, 1815, in 
 the chapel of Peterhof, was partaken with the sole purpose of 
 disposing of my remaining hesitation. God, in his goodness, 
 did not despise my choice of means ; and, on the 27th of Octo- 
 ber (8th of November) , in the same year, I accomplished my 
 abjuration. In memory of the aid vouchsafed me, in part, by 
 the holy apostles Peter and Paul, I composed the following 
 prayer two days before their feast at Vichy, which I attended 
 in 1837 : 
 
 " O holy apostles, Peter and Paul," &c. 
 
 Finally, in the twenty-fifth volume of her extracts, be- 
 tween this thought of Mme. de Ranee, " So act, that 
 your fidelity may be your thank-offering, and your works 
 the expression of your faith," and the funeral oration of 
 Daniel O'Connell, by Father Ventura, we read, interlined 
 in minute characters, "Day blessed a thousand -fold! a 
 beloved anniversary ! Tours, 1847, the 8th of November." 
 
 Neither In her conversation nor her correspondence does 
 she afford us more circumstantial details. Two letters to 
 the Duchess de Liancourt contain the two following allu- 
 sions merely. The Duchess had written to Mme. Swet- 
 chine that her letters reminded her of Bossuet. Mme. 
 Swetchine replies: 
 
 "I can only explain what you say of me by my passionate 
 and exclusive admiration of Bossuet, amounting even to in- 
 justice to Fe*nelon. All my life, I have said, that, if I had but 
 one crown, I would give it to Bossuet; and, of this hidden fire, 
 some sparks have reached you, as there is always a sort of rela- 
 tion between one's own adoration and the object of one's wor- 
 ship." 
 
 MY VERY DEAR FRIEND, I cannot specify the precise 
 date at which one becomes sensible of a disagreeable tendency
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 143 
 
 in Floury. At the time when I read him, I was outside the 
 centre of unity. The more delicate shades, which ultimately 
 are seen to constitute an essential part of truth, escaped me ; 
 my end being quite special, and only taking me as far as the 
 Council of Florence. At the very time that I was reaping so 
 much benefit from the book, I heard a great deal said against 
 it ; but my confidence remained unshaken, as has my gratitude 
 since. This by no means proves, even to me, that Fleury is 
 irreproachable ; only the life which I owe him establishes an 
 unquestionable relation of parent and child between us. It is 
 with books as with men, the good they do cannot be adduced 
 as proof that they are faultless. 
 
 The prayer to the apostles has not yet been found ; but 
 two meditations, which evidently commemorate the same 
 event, have been preserved just as they were first thrown 
 off, as is evident from the hasty character of the hand- 
 writing, and the presence of two or three superfluous words. 
 
 In the first of these meditations, we find, mingled with 
 personal acknowledgments, expressions and views of hers 
 concerning situations which had come under her observa- 
 tion. The second meditation concerns herself alone, and 
 contains her soul's whole history. 
 
 " There is a species of sanctity which, by virtue of its regu- 
 lar, balanced, harmonious character, I shall call classical. This 
 sanctity, perfectly self-poised and in keeping, its present a 
 logical sequence of its past, and harmonious in all its elements, 
 has a sphere, a spirit, a walk, and laws of its own. God holds 
 
 Erfect sway over this sort of sanctity : he rules it justly and 
 ndly, and has pleasure in it, as in the most perfect image of 
 the regular and immutable laws of creation. Another kind 
 of holiness there is, freer, more individual, more bold, swifter 
 in its flight, more ardent, more devoted, more self-aban- 
 doned, it may be, in its love. It is the holiness to which those 
 are called whom I should name the children of Providence; 
 those whom God has sought out ; whom he has found in the 
 midst of all sorts of snares and perils ; whom he has folded in 
 his bosom, as if to shield them from his own right hand's gesture 
 of dismissal. A piety so different in its origin (when con- 
 sidered in reference to human events fructified by divine grace) , 
 so dissimilar, also, in its vocation, cannot imply a perfect
 
 144 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 identity of duty. Let the performance of prescribed duties 
 continue to be the soul of Christian life to the first ; but woe 
 to the others, if, after having ignored or neglected, in all their 
 most serious relations, reason, prudence, and a wise and care- 
 ful moderation, they should pretend to inaugurate them when 
 they enter upon the spiritual life ! Woe to them, if. after hav- 
 ing a thousand times risked or compromised, in the ardor of 
 their merely human passions, health, fortune, and personal con- 
 sideration, they should begin to be careful of these things when 
 they walk in God's way ! " 
 
 MEDITATION ON THE GOOD SHEPHERD. 
 
 " I am the good shepherd, and I know my sheep, and am 
 known of mine." 
 
 " / am the good Shepherd." 
 
 " Thou givest thyself a name, O God ! to our softened and 
 believing hearts. Was it not, then, affecting enough for them 
 to recognize thee ; to designate thee as their compassionate 
 Saviour, their only Saviour ? But thou wouldest that thy word 
 should confirm thy presence, because thy presence on earth 
 was not to be eternal, like thy word. I am the Good Shepherd. 
 Yes : shepherd, and at the same time God, father, master, 
 mother, friend, and brother, of these poor sheep, who will hear 
 no voice but thine, and obey no other crook." 
 
 " I know my sheep" 
 
 "O Lord, who knowest me, what dost thou see in me? 
 What seest thou there that does not merit thy reproof, even in 
 the good with which thou hast endowed me, good which I have 
 let perish, and become corrupt, although, like a faithless stew- 
 ard, I have taken no account thereof. And yet I love thee, 
 Lord : yes, I love thee. It would be a false humility which 
 should deny it. But is it not still thyself who hast been the 
 first to move my soul by a divine look ? who hast plunged me 
 in the pool to purify and heal me? Hast thou not called 
 me twice, by a bitter disgust with the world, and by the authori- 
 tative and mighty attraction of thy grace ? What part have I, 
 then, in my life, such as it is, if thou takest away my faith- 
 lessness ? " 
 
 "And am knoum of mine.' 1 ' 1 
 
 "Yes, Lord, thy sheep know thee, and ask to know thee 
 still better, that they may love thee more. My God ! not 
 always have I known thee, not always have I loved thee. It
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 145 
 
 is long, happily very long, since thou didst come, and touch my 
 heart, and will that I should love thee. In the beginning, it was 
 a feeble ray ; now it is a great sun. It was first a grain of 
 mustard-seed, which, grown into a mighty tree, protects me 
 with its shade, and gives me food and shelter. For a time, O 
 my Lord, a time which I cannot now conceive, thou wert 
 everywhere as now, and I saw thee nowhere. Yet at last I 
 had glimpses of thee amid the crowd of objects which hid thee 
 from my view, and soon thy adorable head lifted itself above 
 others, and asserted its supremacy. I saw it that divine 
 head dispensing pity, enduring insult, exposed to many a 
 blow. Thy divine beauty, the malice of thine enemies, who 
 were also those of virtue, overpowered me. I began by often 
 turning my eyes to thine ; then oftener : at last, I removed 
 them no more ; but that dear sight became inseparably mingled 
 with all others, and made me better and wiser. I had advanced 
 so far, and thought to advance no farther, when it came to 
 pass, I know not how, that one day, one hour, one swift and 
 blissful hour, I ceased to see aught besides thee ! O my God ! 
 then it was, in thy presence, that all which thou wast not 
 appeared imbittered and smitten with nothingness. I saw my 
 dear Jesus aright, and the poor sheep knew its true shep- 
 herd ! " 
 
 10
 
 146 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER Vin. 
 
 Mme. Swetchine has occasion publicly to profess the Catholic faith. Her 
 departure for France. 
 
 THE Emperor Alexander, when he returned to his do- 
 minions, brought back some new and salutary impres- 
 sions. His soul had been deeply stirred in that brief interval 
 of years by great disasters and great victories, great sor- 
 rows and great joys, an unparalleled personal triumph 
 and bitter personal trials. God moves in his own ways. 
 Fascinated at first, but soon fatigued by the incoherent 
 and barren predictions of Mme. de Kriideuer, the Emperor, 
 nevertheless, came back more regular and serious in his 
 private life, more religious in theory, but more troubled 
 and uncertain than ever in practice. The great virtues 
 of the Catholic nations, of which he had just had a near 
 view ; the heroic endurance of the Spaniards ; the angelic 
 purity of the sovereign pontiff, Pius VII. ; the noble and 
 sympathizing qualities of France, all these had given 
 him occasion to reflect upon himself, his ancestry, and his 
 country. Still he hesitated about touching the knife to 
 the sores which were everywhere revealed. Like most 
 sovereigns, and especially absolute sovereigns, he had to 
 contend against the prejudices and interested passions 
 of those about him. The politicians of Russia fought for 
 what they called national tradition. The light-minded were 
 either concerned or bored to behold their master, and 
 consequently their model, inclining towards what they 
 denominated mysticism. The nearest friends of Alex-
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 147 
 
 ander, who, like him, were ready either for lively or serious 
 impressions, formed themselves into bible-societies, or 
 dreamed of the regeneration of their native land by the 
 transforming action of masonic lodges. Thus statesmen, 
 men of pleasure, and theorists, all clogged and opposed 
 the Emperor in his strivings after truth. 
 
 The Catholics now became, more than ever, objects of 
 suspicion at the court of Russia; and Mme. Swetchine 
 believed it her duty, in the first instance, to sacrifice to 
 those who were dear to her the public profession of her 
 faith. Her abjuration was made in secret. Her first con- 
 fession was heard by Father Rosaven, in a saloon with 
 open doors, and in momentary dread of a surprise. 
 
 She supposed herself condemned, for an indefinite period, 
 to this painful mystery, when a generous and spontaneous 
 impulse unexpectedly freed her from her self-imposed rule 
 of prudence. 
 
 It is well known, that, during the storm which burst upon 
 the Jesuits, hi the course of the eighteenth century, Fred- 
 eric of Prussia wrote to Voltaire, that he was preserving 
 the seed of the order, that he might some time furnish it 
 to those who should desire to cultivate so rare a plant; 
 and that the Empress Catharine held the same language, 
 and adopted the same line of conduct. On the death of 
 Frederic II., his successor dispersed the Jesuits ; but 
 Catharine collected them again, and soon four colleges 
 at Polotsk, at Vitepsk, at Orcha, and at Dunabourg 
 were flourishing under their direction. Paul testified still 
 greater confidence in them by admitting the celebrated 
 Father Griiber into his most private councils. He sum- 
 moned the Jesuits to St. Petersburg, placed in their hands 
 the University of Vilna, and confided to their care the col- 
 onies of the Volga. Alexander continued to show the same
 
 148 LIFE OP MADAME SAVETCHINE. 
 
 favor to Griiber, who perished the victim of a fire on the 
 night of the 26th of March, 1806, praying for the prosperity 
 of his order, and blessing his friend, Count de Maistre, 
 who had hastened to the very scene of the catastrophe. 
 Father Thadeus Bzrozowski, who was elected general of 
 the order in his stead, continued his work. Alexander 
 opened to them Siberia; and they hastened to its murder- 
 ous deserts for the consolation of the exiles. The Duke 
 de Richelieu and the Abbe Nicolle claimed their assistance 
 at Odessa ; and there they discovered a field for mis- 
 sionary labor, and had marvellous success in inducing 
 the tribes of the Chersonese and the Crimea to accept the 
 blessings of Christian civilization. At the time of the in- 
 vasion of Russia, the Jesuits excited the veneration of 
 the French and Russian armies alike, by the aid which 
 their zeal lavished impartially on the wounded of all 
 nations. Napoleon visited them at Polotsk ; and the sol- 
 diers of Marshal Victor and Marshal Gouvion de St. Cyr, 
 had particular reason to congratulate themselves on their 
 devotedness. 
 
 "While the Jesuits were restricted to reconstructing their 
 society with the remains of the shipwreck, the Russian 
 clergy and corps of instruction took little umbrage at 
 them ; but when the favor of two emperors, and their own 
 rapid success, had placed them upon a broader stage, 
 jealousy began to hatch its ordinary plots. 
 
 Count de Maistre, who, in the leisure left him by the 
 duties of the Sardinian Legation, considered himself, and 
 justly, the ambassador of great truths to a great nation 
 and a sovereign worthy to hear them, Count de Maistre 
 took up the pen, and refuted, in five famous letters, ad- 
 dressed to the Minister of Public Instruction, Count 
 Rasoumowsky himself, the accusations and insinuations
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 149 
 
 which incessantly found their way to the ears of Alex- 
 ander. These five letters created an immense sensation: 
 they resulted in the erection of a new university in the 
 interest of the Jesuits ; but this triumph was their last. 
 Hostility took a fresh start during the long sojourn of the 
 Emperor in Germany and France. The earth was mined 
 under the feet of the order. Every conversion was spied 
 out, and signalized as an act of infidelity to the country 
 and treason to the sovereign, the absolute master of 
 consciences as of hearts. On the 3d of January, 1816, 
 a first ukase was extorted with Alexander's signature, 
 which banished the Jesuits from St. Petersburg and Mos- 
 cow. "They have," said the ukase, naively, "turned 
 aside from our worship young people who have been con- 
 fided to their care, and certain women of weak and incon- 
 sequent minds" Some months later, the proscription was 
 extended to the whole empire. Schools were closed, 
 missions interdicted, and Russia presented to Europe the 
 singular spectacle of a monarch who had cast his sword 
 into the balance of the most gigantic of conflicts, and 
 caused his voice to prevail in an assembly of crowned 
 heads, but who did not hesitate to avow his dread of a 
 few religionists, possessing naught in his empire but the 
 right to live, and to speak of God. Russia, under two 
 sovereigns such as Catharine and Paul, under the ma- 
 levolent empire of the prejudices of the eighteenth cen- 
 tury, had constituted herself the shield of the proscribed 
 company; but at the epoch of universal restoration, when 
 Russia had dictated to Europe her most generous thoughts, 
 she resumed for herself the narrowest traditions and the 
 most arbitrary blindness. 
 
 This situation wrung cries of anguish from Count de 
 Maistre.
 
 150 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 " Who will dare," he wrote, 1 " speak the truth to him who is 
 all powerful, and who has never heard it ? 
 
 " Russia boasts of her toleration, and allows it to be lauded; 
 but there is a twofold mistake. Russia tolerates all errors, 
 because errors are always friends to one another, and ready for 
 a mutual embrace. It is not so with the truth, or with the 
 Catholic Church, if you will, which 'is nothing less than 
 tolerated. 
 
 " Certain very knowing individuals pretend that the Emperor 
 of Russia disgusted by the religious scandals at Vienna 
 has contracted an incurable prejudice against the Catholic 
 religion. In one sense, the Prince was right, if the report 
 is true ; for, unhappily, these scandals are only too well founded. 
 But he needed a courageous minister at his side capable of 
 saying, ' You think, sire, that you see Catholicism. You see 
 only the absence of it. You see the work of Joseph II. With 
 the fatal impatience and impetuosity of an inexperienced young 
 man, he undermined the power of the sovereign pontiff' in his 
 dominions. You see the result. There is hardly more religion 
 at Vienna than at Geneva, or than there will be in your own 
 realm when certain forces which you choose to ignore shall 
 have received their full development.' 
 
 "There is no truth more indisputable than this: In the 
 present state of the human mind in Europe, Christianity can 
 only be defended by the Catholic principle, which refers all to 
 authority. 
 
 "But how can this principle be developed, if the courts per- 
 sist in their blindness? In one sense we may say that all 
 princes are dethroned, since there is not one who reigns as did 
 his father and grandfather before him; and since the sacred 
 character of kingship is daily becoming weakened in propor- 
 tion to the growth of the irreligious principle, no one can yet 
 foresee the extent of the misfortune with which Europe is 
 threatened. 
 
 " There is an inflexibility in the teachings of the Catholic 
 Church which is displeasing to temporal authority. The latter 
 does not feel herself mistress, or sufficiently mistress, in the 
 presence of another power which she cannot control at will. . . . 
 She does not heed the fact, that this independence and ascen- 
 dency are the natural and necessary characteristic of truth, 
 that where they are not, it is not. What prince ever dreamed 
 of combating mathematics ? " 
 
 1 Letter to the Marquis , on the state of Christianity in Europe.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 151 
 
 In yielding to the sentiments and influences which 
 Count de Maistre thus describes with his usual imperious 
 eloquence, the Emperor Alexander was not exempt from 
 perplexity and disquietude. His personal acts seemed 
 often to enter a protest against his official measures. When 
 the ukase of banishment was announced to the Jesuitical 
 order, each of the Fathers received from the Emperor's 
 private purse pecuniary assistance and furs to protect 
 them from the inclemency of the journey. Mme. Swet- 
 chine could no longer be resigned to subordinating her 
 faith to prudence and mystery. The proscription of the 
 Jesuits outraged her love of justice, besides wounding 
 her personal respect and confidence ; and her unfailing 
 sense of honor must needs declare itself openly. As soon 
 as the prescriptive measure was announced, Mme. Swet- 
 chine avowed herself a Catholic, hastened to the cell of 
 Father Rosaven, placed at his disposal and that of his 
 companions in misfortune all the means of alleviation at 
 her command, and allowed no obstacle and no personal 
 consideration to interfere with her pleading the' cause of 
 the calumniated and proscribed, as her heart dictated. 
 Until lately, the Emperor had testified for Mme. Swetchine 
 nothing beyond the affectionate regard and consideration 
 which all the imperial family bore her. But, after his 
 return, whether it was that he had become cognizant 
 
 ' O 
 
 of her correspondence with Mile. Stourdza, or that he 
 naturally felt more drawn to her by the new turn his 
 thoughts had taken, their relations became closer and 
 more intimate. 
 
 Those who had groaned over the influence of Mme. 
 de Kriidener were yet more alarmed to think of the sway 
 which a reason, lofty and pure as that of Mme. Swetchine, 
 might come to exercise over a susceptible mind like Alex-
 
 152 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 ander's. But this time the woman who represented 
 religion and virtue to her sovereign, was actually worthy 
 of the honor ; and the men whose prejudices or interests 
 were wounded by her ascendency, convinced that they 
 would look in vain for a stain on her irreproachable life, 
 found means to wound her by directing their intrigues 
 against General Swetchine. The wrath excited by his hon- 
 orable course at the time of Paul's death was not extinct; 
 and it seized this opportunity to gratify without betraying 
 itself. A fault committed by a subaltern under his orders 
 was made the pretext for organizing perfidious machina- 
 tions against himself. The General scorned to justify 
 himself hi the beginning ; and when it appeared that his 
 enemies, old and new, had obtained a hearing, his pride 
 was wounded, and he took the course of leaving Russia. 
 His departure involved that of Mme. Swetchine, a result 
 both anticipated and desired. The Czar, baffled and 
 irresolute, testified his regret to Mme. Swetchine by beg- 
 ging her to write him on her journey. This correspondence 
 was kept up until Alexander's death. Mme. Swetchine 
 carefully preserved the Emperor's letters, and he accorded 
 the same honor to hers. On the death of Alexander, 
 
 whether by his express desire, or through the delicate 
 kindness of the Emperor Nicholas, Mme. Swetchine's 
 letters were returned to her at Paris. This complete 
 interchange of thoughts whose interest may easily be 
 estimated was still in her possession in the year 1845, 
 
 when she permitted an eminent statesman of that day 
 to examine the letters. No trace of them has been dis- 
 covered among his papers. We are at a loss whether to 
 believe that these documents were burned, like so many 
 others, amid the alarms of 1848, or merely returned to 
 Russia, in which case they will, doubtless, one day see 
 the light.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 153 
 
 As for Mme. Swetchine herself, the thought of travel- 
 ling in Europe, and particularly in France and England, 
 stimulated her passion for study, and allured her imagina- 
 tion. Since peace had opened the world to every species 
 of investigation, she had frequently expressed her desire to 
 share in the new freedom. Her intentions went no fur- 
 ther. She said so repeatedly to the numerous friends 
 whom she left behind her. In a note to her friend Tour- 
 guenief, we find an explicit statement to this effect 
 
 MY DEAR TOURGUENIEF, Here I am again at my eternal 
 petitions ! But I leave so many unfortunates here, that what 
 is useless to one may be serviceable to another. Be so kind as 
 to look after them a little ; and sustain your courage, if it is 
 ready to droop, by the reflection, that, in spite of myself, I must 
 soon leave you at peace. Ah ! my friend, if I had nothing else 
 to bind me to my native land save these children and poor peo- 
 ple whom I leave behind me, the tie would still be stronger 
 than all foreign allurements. What I constantly experience in 
 this connection is the best proof of the yearning which will re- 
 store me to my country sooner, it may be, than I myself 
 suppose. 
 
 Mile. Stourdza had not returned to Russia with the Em- 
 press. In 1816, she had married Count Edling, who held 
 a conspicuous post at the court of the Grand-duke of Saxe 
 Weimar, and the Grand -duchess Mary, Alexander's 
 sister. 
 
 Another friendship no less strong and faithful had ac- 
 quired an equal right in the heart of Mme. Swetchine. 
 Mile. Marie Gourief, daughter of Count Gourief, who was 
 for a long time Minister of Finance, had married Count 
 Nesselrode, Secretary of Foreign Affairs. Totally unlike the 
 Countess Edling by nature, but with a mind equally acute 
 and a heart equally warm, albeit under a colder exterior, 
 Mme. de Nesselrode had consecrated to Mme. Swetchiue 
 one of those friendships which, throughout the longest life,
 
 154 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 afford only consolation and support. We shall see her, 
 during forty years of separation, as active a friend, and, so 
 to speak, as constant a companion, as if their mutual 
 affection had matured in the narrow and intimate circle 
 in which it originated. 
 
 Mme. Swetchine took with her a magnificent crayon 
 portrait of Count de Maistre, who presented it, accompa- 
 nied by the following stanza, which he inserted in the 
 frame : 
 
 " Docile a 1'appel, plein de grace 
 De 1'amitie qui vous attend, 
 Volez, image, et prenez place 
 Ou {'original se plait tank" 
 
 1 Docile to appeal, and thankful for the love that awaits yon, fly, my 
 likeness, and take your place where the original loves so well to be.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 155 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Arrival of Mine. Swetchine at Paris. Correspondence with the Duchess 
 de Duras. 
 
 MADAME SWETCHINE did not protract her jour- 
 ney from Russia to France. She came to Paris to 
 pass the winter of 1816 and 1817, at the age of thirty -four, 
 in the full vigor of her own intellect, and at the political 
 era which best answered to her own ideas. 
 
 She had known just so much of the crimes of the Revo- 
 lution as the indignant memory of Europe had retained. 
 She had judged of the injustice and blindness of the pas- 
 sions of the mob by the noble victims to whom she had so 
 cordially offered her share of hospitality. She had also 
 observed closely, and with no less keen an eye, the abuses, 
 the violence, the infatuation, of unlimited and uncontrolled 
 power. And although called to no public action, and 
 though her sweetness and timidity revolted from the idea 
 of direct collision, it had been impossible for her to witness 
 the conflict of contradictory principles, so fatal alike to the 
 hopes and delusions of humanity, without arriving, in her 
 own heart, at fixed principles and conclusions. She as- 
 sumed, in the first place, an attitude of perfect impartiality 
 toward all those who might conscientiously and sincerely 
 represent a generous idea ; then she fixed irrevocably her 
 own preferences, friendships, and views on the side which 
 promised the longest duration to limited power and enlight- 
 ened freedom. 
 
 The Restoration realized this type. Mme. Swetchine
 
 156 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 gave it the approbation of her heart and mind. She was 
 at once at home in the epoch and the society which she 
 had come so far to visit. Friends whom she had already 
 proved in her native land were the first to welcome her, 
 the Marquis d'Autichamp, whom she found Governor of the 
 Louvre ; the Count de La Garde, who received one of the 
 first family embassies ; and the Duke de Richelieu, who at 
 once placed her on ultimate terms with his two sisters, 
 the Marquise de Montcalm and the Countess de Jumilhac. 
 
 The Duke de Blacas had lived much at St. Petersburg 
 in the years which preceded the Restoration ; and he had 
 a great admiration for Mme. Swetchine. Up to his latest 
 years, when saddened by a noble and voluntary exile, his 
 cold and stern face expressed emotion whenever her name 
 was mentioned. But at the beginning of the reign of 
 Louis XVIII., the Duke de Blacas represented the court 
 darling, differing widely from her in opinion, and with no 
 especial desire for reconciliation. It was by means of their 
 learning, of which so many souvenirs remain at Naples and 
 Rome, that the Duke de Blacas and Mme. Swetchine main- 
 tained their relations. M. de Maistre had sent to Mme. 
 Swetchine a letter for the Viscount de Bonald, in which he 
 said, " You never saw more moral worth, more talent, and 
 more erudition united to so much goodness." And Viscount 
 de Bonald replied, " She is a friend worthy of you, and has 
 one of the finest minds I ever met, which may be either 
 the effect or the cause of the most excellent qualities with 
 which a mortal was ever endowed." 
 
 The charitable institutions of France excited in her an 
 interest which established frequent and most amicable re- 
 lations between her and M. de Gerando. The diplomatic 
 corps had two assiduous representatives at her house in the 
 persons of Baron Humboldt and Count Pozzo di Borgo.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 157 
 
 The salon where Mme. Swetchine found herself most 
 speedily at home was that of the Duchess de Duras. There 
 she saw for the first time Mme. de Stael, and addressed a 
 remark to her which has been often, though inaccurately, 
 quoted. The Duchess de Duras, wishing to make up for 
 the disappointment of St. Petersburg, invited them both to a 
 small and very select dinner party. Always very reserved, 
 Mme. Swetchine allowed almost the whole repast to pass in 
 silence, and scarcely lifted her eyes to the illustrious guest 
 opposite. After dinner, Mme. de Stael approached Mme. 
 Swetchine. " They told me, madam, that you desired to 
 make my acquaintance : was I misinformed ? " " Assur- 
 edly not, madam ; but it is always the king who speaks 
 first." 
 
 Mme. Swetchine met in that salon all the reigning intel- 
 lects of the day. All shades and all ranks mingled there as 
 they did in the political councils of the Restoration, M. 
 de Chateaubriand and M. Abel Remusat, M. Cuvier and 
 Viscount Matthieu de Montmorency, M. Mole, M. Ville- 
 main, and M. de Barante. Some of these men, particularly 
 M. Cuvier and M. Abel Remusat, became her friends, as 
 they were those of the Duchess de Duras. Others who 
 were more deeply involved in politics did not nevertheless 
 forget their meeting with her, and cherished its memory 
 fondly. Madame de Duras conceived for her one of the 
 latest and deepest affections of her soul. Often strait- 
 ened for means, in spite of her grand position ; independent 
 and devoted, zealous and thoughtful ; in the world, but not 
 of it ; an earnest Christian, but with a heart that piety 
 had not yet been able to satisfy and render calm, the 
 Duchess de Duras recognized, at the first glance, in Mme. 
 Swetchine the only qualities which could prove alluring to 
 her now, sensibility without complacency, sympathy
 
 158 LITE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 and strength. Some of the outpourings of the Duchess de 
 Duras will give us the best idea of what Mme. Swetchine 
 was on her arrival in France, of the confidence, the affec- 
 tion, the enthusiasm, she inspired at first sight. This corre- 
 spondence will be a mirror which shall reflect the light (so 
 to speak) upon the portion of the picture which we desire 
 to examine. 
 
 After a six months' stay in France, General Swetchine 
 decided that his presence was necessary at St. Petersburg 
 to baffle the persevering manoeuvres of his enemies ; and 
 Mme. Swetchine did not hesitate to follow him thither. 
 
 It was during this absence, which lasted about a year, 
 that the Duchess de Duras wrote the following letters. 
 We must, however, except the first, of which a fragment 
 only has been preserved, and to whose date we have no 
 clue, but which evidently refers to Mme. Swetchine's first 
 sojourn in Paris, and to the commencement of her intimate 
 relations with Mme de Duras : 
 
 ANDILLY. 
 
 Was I unwise to bring hither two volumes of those memoirs 
 of Dangeau ? I hope not. They amuse me. They read them- 
 selves, like all that is written, all books that contain proper 
 names, and every thing relating to Louis XIV. There is magic 
 in that great name ! He has left one enduring trace of himself. 
 You will be struck by it, when you see Versailles. There 
 nothing comes between him and us. " He did us great honor," 
 said a peasant of Rouergue ; and, with the French, that is every 
 thing. What matters the individual suffering ? He had placed 
 France above all other nations. This will perpetuate another 
 name beside his, the name of one who deserves immortality 
 less, for he had neither his goodness nor his greatness. 
 
 So I chat with you, and it gives me pleasure. I am so 
 sure that my letter will be received, as it was written, kindly 
 and simply. I would have said to no one else what I have just 
 said to you. How some people would enjoy commenting upon 
 it! But, with you, I dread neither cavilling nor ill-will. I 
 believe in you : friendship is faith. But how did you inspire 
 me with this confidence ? Uo not deprive me of it ; do not dis-
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 159 
 
 appoint me : it would grieve me too deeply. I shall return on 
 Friday, and hope to see you in the evening. Come early. 
 
 My little house progresses. 1 I hope, m fifteen days, to be 
 able to show it to you ; that is, its walls. Every thing is to 
 be done. You will need all your imagination to comprehend 
 it. As for me, I am like an author thoroughly imbued with his 
 subject. I see the ensemble and the details : nothing escapes 
 me. If I can but live, and cure my diseased mind, I may yet be 
 happy, who knows? You have done me good, and that is 
 what I did not believe possible. Clara 2 embraces you. Adieu 
 till Friday ! 
 
 PARIS, Aug. 24. 
 
 Here I am in Paris, dear friend ; and you would believe in 
 my devoted friendship, if you knew what I suffer in your ab- 
 sence. This cabinet is a desert : it reminds me of all I lack. 
 I entered it with pleasure ; but now it is a source of sorrow, 
 because you will come hither no more. All my friends are 
 absent, or worse than absent ; and I have not the slightest 
 chance of seeing any one the sight of whom can touch my 
 heart, or lift the weight that constantly oppresses it. 
 
 Is it not better to be alone at Andilly ? There, at least, all 
 is new. We must endeavor, of course, to preserve equanimity 
 of mind ; but it is impossible. I felt the need of writing you 
 the moment I entered here. Josephine told me that you came 
 here. Why need I have lost a single hour of the few you could 
 still afford me ? But it was better so. Adieus are not needed, 
 when one's future is as sad as mine. I have no news. The 
 change in the ministry has not yet taken place, but it is only 
 delayed. . . . 
 
 This is one of those conventionalities which amaze you, and 
 which are so common in France. It would certainly be better 
 to refuse to see people toward whom one feels in this way. 
 Doubtless, such is the first impulse : but one dreads scenes, 
 eclat, ridicule ; and the result is a false and frigid intercourse, 
 and factitious professions of interest, which, in the end, impart 
 a fatal taint to the character, and destroy, along with sincerity 
 of manners, that good faith of the heart without which there is 
 no true worth. And then, dear friend, what is the use ? Why 
 should we give ourselves so much anxiety ? Time moves on, 
 and regulates all things. When we consider what hours, 
 
 1 Mme. de Duras was preparing a delightful retreat at Andilly. 
 
 2 Clara de Duras, afterwards Duchess de Rauzan.
 
 160 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHIXE. 
 
 months, years, and lives really are, it seems inconceivable that 
 we should torment ourselves. It is pitiful. 
 
 The burning of that frigate was the work of the malecontents ; 
 and I have just seen the Duke de Raguse, who was sent to 
 Lyons, Grenoble, &c., to pacify and conciliate them. Do you 
 know him ? These are people who conciliate by cannon-balls ! 
 
 There is a good deal of talk about the classification of the 
 peers. They are to be divided by benches. This is very well. 
 I wish every thing in the state was as clearly defined : it would 
 remedy one of the greatest evils in France, the uncertainty 
 about what one really is, which paves the way for so many 
 pretensions. A definite ambition is not dangerous : a vague 
 ambition makes us discontented with what we have, without 
 giving us an aim. Oliver de Verac received a letter from a 
 provincial lady asking a place for her son. " He is qualified," 
 she stated, " to be a sub-prefect, prefect, councillor of State, 
 or even minister." Ah well ! heads are full of this in France. . . . 
 
 Ah, my friend, what chatter! I am ashamed of it. It seems 
 as if you were here upon the green sofa, and had devoted your 
 whole evening to me, so that we felt at liberty to be lavish, and 
 waste our time in idle talk. Mine. Montcalm always does me 
 good ; and it was you who disarmed my prejudice, fortunately 
 for me. Nobody fears her more than I ; and I never know 
 how to conciliate those who are alienated from me. I should 
 always need a guardian angel like you. I took Clara to the 
 ball yesterday evening, and am dead with fatigue. I asked my- 
 self, whether, among all the young people, there was one who 
 would suit me for a son-in-law. No : there is but one after my 
 own heart, and he has not the requisite advantages. I dis- 
 cussed the whole matter fully with M. de Duras this morning, 
 and we quite agreed on the main points. In short, he leaves 
 me entirely free : and then I have a year, at least, before me ; 
 and that year is too precious for me to lose. I embrace you. 
 I am impatient to receive tidings of yourself and the journey 
 to Moscow, and to get the first word of promise with regard to 
 your return. 
 
 Albertine ' has come. She is going to La Grange, which is 
 lent her by M. de La Fayette, who is absent. I love her 
 tenderly. 
 
 ANDILLY, Sept. 8. 
 
 MY DEAR FRIEND, I have had no news of you since your 
 letter from Strasbourg, and that did not quite please me. I 
 
 i Albertine de Stael, afterwards Duchess de Broglie.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 161 
 
 should like to unveil my heart to you, and you would be satis- 
 fied. I love you more than I should have believed possible, 
 after what I have experienced. I believe in you, I, who had 
 become so suspicious. I feel secure in your friendship : I 
 would go to the ends of the earth, whatever might be my cir- 
 .cumstances, to seek it ; and I should be sure of always finding 
 it the same. Why, then, should you not be content with me ? 
 I give you all which it is possible to give in a life as confused 
 as mine. If you had come sooner, you would have found me 
 whole ; but it is only my ruins to which you have become 
 attached. Your imagination has created an ensemble, but it is 
 no longer a reality. The griefs of which we ought to die, but 
 do not, disarrange our characters as well as our interests and 
 our whole existence. Harmony and equilibrium are broken up. 
 Henceforward, one is nothing. Since, however, nature ever 
 has a tendency to regain her level, we are tossed about on an 
 ocean of disgust and ennui ; and life becomes but a melancholy 
 effort. Such is the poor creature whom you have deigned to 
 love, and who loves you with all the remaining strength of her 
 heart. I am constantly here. I have never been able to decide 
 to go to Tremblay ; * and; when the time comes, T shall do just 
 the same about Lormoy 2 and Mouchy. 3 And yet I do not love 
 solitude. I am too much with myself, and that is not good for 
 me ; but to be with others is more intolerable still. 
 
 I have had M. de Humboldt and M. de la Tour du Pin here 
 for a few minutes, and also M. de Chateaubriand, who came to 
 pass three days in Paris. I made a flying visit there. His 
 money matters are arranged, which gives me positive pleasure. 
 He is now independent, for, thank Heaven ! politics have noth- 
 ing to do with the arrangement. I found him in his best 
 mood, amiable, and having quite renounced that terrible idea 
 of self-expatriation. It is the continuation of his autobiogra- 
 phy which has benefited him so much. He has told the story 
 of seven or eight years of his youth, from the age of twelve 
 till his entrance into the service ; of the first efforts of his 
 genius ; of his reveries in the Bois de Combourg ; and, finally, 
 the prose history of which Rene is the versification. It is charm- 
 ing reading ; but I trust he will not allow himself to read it to 
 anybody but me. I should be sorry, for a good many reasons. 
 His present intention is, that the memoirs shall not appear till 
 fifty years after his death. The number of years is of little 
 
 1 Estate of the Marquis de VeYac. 
 a Estate of the Duke de Mailld. 
 8 Estate of the Duke de Mouchy. 
 11
 
 162 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 consequence, provided he is not living. He will return in two 
 or three weeks to look out a lodging, and prepare himself for 
 the Chambers. He has a good deal to say. The Concordat agi- 
 tates all minds. Benjamin Constant has written a pamphlet on 
 the elections, which is simply a song with the refrain, Nominate 
 me, nominate me ! The ministers are quizzed in it from begin- 
 ning to end. If there was a courier, I would send you the work. 
 
 The Abbe" Nicolle has been somewhat indisposed. I have 
 not discovered that Mine, de Montcalm is angry with you for 
 not having written her. I am longing for a letter from Moscow, 
 saying that you can and will return. It must be, dear friend. 
 You know that I have the misfortune to believe only in actions, 
 which is very vulgar. 
 
 Apropos of subtilties, I have finished Waldemar, 1 and am 
 indignant at it. I cannot endure such a mixture of truth and 
 falsehood. There is an accuracy of reasoning, and, at the 
 same time, a falseness of sentiment, which revolts me. I can 
 excuse an error of the intellect, when the heart is right; but 
 these ultra refinements of sentiment are intolerable, tlus love 
 which is not friendship, and friendship which is not love ! Good 
 Lord ! to love is to love ; and when two people love one an- 
 other sufficiently to have everything in common, thoughts, 
 interests, affections, tastes, they can do no better than to 
 marry, and become mutually attached, each to the being who 
 has doubled the other's existence. All the eloquence of Jacobi 
 will not alter the case ; but he has some admirable passages, 
 and his system is ingenious and fascinating. 
 
 Adieu ! How can 1 send so far what I should say in my own 
 chimney-corner ? Let us not think of it. The autumn is fine. 
 Why should you not see our poor France in this beautiful 
 weather ? It is another and a better thing than any spring. I 
 embrace you, my dear friend. Ask my forgiveness for your 
 letter from Strasbourg. 
 
 Clara loves and mourns for you. She has much to say to 
 Nadine. 
 
 Sept. 20, 1817. 
 I showed you, my dear friend, some of the letters of my 
 
 poor friend . You admired, with me, the superiority of 
 
 ner mind, her high tone of feeling, and the delicacy, the 
 wounded pride, which have so long been imbittering her life, 
 for there is, in my opinion, no situation more cruel than one 
 
 1 A romance by Jacobi, translated by Vanderbourg.
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 163 
 
 in which our own conduct misrepresents us. We are judged 
 with so much severity, and yet the humiliation is so painful ! 
 And when one has won the admiration awarded to beauty, 
 grace, wit, and elegance of manners combined, and when one 
 has enjoyed that admiration, and then feels that it is disputed, 
 how terrible must be one's reflections ! add to this a sensi- 
 bility wounded or misunderstood, and the unrest of a heart at 
 war with itself, but too proud to ask aught of others ! 
 
 In short, my dear friend, the situation has produced its 
 natural effect, her brain is affected, her imagination is dis- 
 ordered, she has lost her reason. I cannot tell you how 
 much pain this gives me. My poor friend is very glad to see 
 me. Her insanity is not violent, but it is harrowing. She is 
 smitten with fear : she thinks she is to be assassinated ; that 
 every thing she takes is poisoned ; that we are all to perish 
 sooner or later by a conspiracy, but that she is especially 
 doomed; that all her servants are half-pay soldiers in disguise, 1 
 in fine, a thousand vagaries. She has been confessed. She 
 constantly believes that she is to die the ensuing night, but says 
 that she is happy. She charged me to justify her after her 
 death, to say that she did not deserve to be abandoned as 
 she had been : in short, many things in which one discovers 
 spite of her madness the trace of thoughts which I know 
 too well have been habitual with her. This is heartrending. 
 In this situation, with all disguises stripped away, we see 
 how sweet a soul hers was, and how great her capacity for suf- 
 fering. Forgive me ! you never saw her, but you know her ; 
 and I am so absorbed by my poor friend, that I must needs tell 
 you of this first of all. 1 cannot believe that so recent an 
 attack is incurable, horrible thought! Alas! what has she 
 done, as she said vesterday in her ravings, that she should be 
 treated so? People will say, "How was she treated? She was 
 at liberty to do as she pleased," &c. You hear it where you are. 
 But the wrongs which the heart resents most keenly are impal- 
 pable and invisible : they are like cactus-thorns, which make 
 bad wounds, though one cannot see them. Can it be possible 
 that there is no tribunal before which offences that have gone 
 unpunished in this world shall be judged? You will sympa- 
 thize in all this. I know only M. de Chateaubriand and you 
 who could understand me on this subject. He will be much 
 distressed. I wrote him only three days ago. I hope her 
 dreadful condition will be ameliorated, but thus far she has 
 only grown worse. I can think of nothing else. . . . 
 
 1 Military recently discharged by a measure which had excited great 
 discontent.
 
 164 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 Did I tell you of the marriage of Louis de Saint Priest ? 
 He married the daughter of Caraman, one of the most 
 remarkable young women of the present generation, who will 
 make him a lovely wife. She is Victor's ' sister, and twenty 
 years of age. Her fortune is the only point which is not satis- 
 factory. She has no patrimony whatever, and her treatment 
 is so uncertain. Mme. de Montcalm has received your letter 
 from Saltzbourg. I see her tolerably often ; but it is hard for 
 us to feel at ease with one another. We need you : you were 
 the link between us ; and it is not here only that your absence 
 makes itself felt. . . . 
 
 Mine, de Boigne has returned from England. That country 
 is more disturbed than ever by the Jacobins. London is their 
 centre. They have made several attempts to liberate Napoleon 
 at St. Helena : new plots for an escape are daily discovered. 
 How abominable for strangers to engage in such manoeuvres ! 
 If it were Frenchmen, it would be rash, criminal, if you will ; 
 but it would not be villanous. But to throw from a distance 
 the match which kindles the fire, and to watch from a place 
 of safety the misfortunes one has caused, there is no chas- 
 tisement too severe for such enemies.. . . 
 
 Since M. Mole has been in the ministry, people pretend to 
 dread the Jacobins. Both sides are apparently making ad- 
 vances to the royalists ; but I do not believe it will lead to any 
 thing. There are too many obstacles, and especially too much 
 suspicion. 
 
 I have seen Auguste de Stae'l. He is still unlike himself, 
 and has not recovered from his affliction. He described to me 
 the awful silence which had reigned in the family since his 
 mother's death. She stimulated them all. The animation of 
 her presence communicated itself to every thing else. Now 
 they had the old routine, but the life was gone out of it. ... 
 
 I received your Munich and Saltzbourg letters at the same 
 time. They gave me great pleasure ; and I am glad to rest in 
 the hope that your affairs will permit your return. I have 
 spoken to M. de Ilumboldt of all the countries you have trav- 
 ersed. I should like to transport myself thither, and be with 
 you. 
 
 October 8. 
 
 They tell me that there is a courier, but he starts to-day ; 
 and I have only time to write a few lines. Still, dear friend, 
 
 1 Victor de Caraman, son of the Marquis de Caraman, created duke on 
 his return from a mission to Vienna in 1828.
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 165 
 
 I do not want him to go empty-handed ; and, ill as I feel, I have 
 seated myself at my desk. I am none too well. I have the 
 blues badly ; that is nothing, and I do not want to talk of it. 
 It will have passed when you receive my letter. But is it not 
 deplorable to be in that state where your well-being depends 
 upon a breath, a mere nothing ? Find me a remedy for this 
 evil. I know very well what you will say. It is quite true ; 
 but to embrace that assistance requires all the strength it can 
 impart, and that is what I have not. So I only take pallia- 
 tives, and remain essentially as ill as ever. I received your 
 good letter from Vienna, and sent to Georges, 1 that I might 
 question him. He swore that you were well, and not over- 
 fatigued. But how your letter aggravated me ! Might you 
 really have stayed? The thought is too trying to dwell upon. 
 I regret you, and shall as long as I live. No other society 
 pleases or suits me like yours ; and your affection was not the 
 sole cause of my happiness, or, rather, it was not your praise, but 
 the feeling which dictated it, that made me happy. There was 
 no truth in it all ; but you thought it, and that was enough ; 
 and so it is with any sentiment. We love feebly where we judge 
 impartially ; and there is no deception in letting a soul believe 
 itself worthy of what is given it. And then is it not really a 
 means of improvement ? I believe that you have actually ren- 
 dered me estimable ; but you need not have left me. . . . 
 
 Come back, my friend ! It is what I must constantly reiterate. 
 
 I have just had recommended to me a Russian lady, the 
 Countess Lieven. 2 I have not seen her; but I have a grudge 
 against her, because she is a Russian, and is not you ; and, not- 
 withstanding the wonderful stories they tell about her, I will 
 lay a wager I shall not like her. They say, moreover, that she 
 is what they call in London "a leader of fashion," which is 
 something I cannot endure ; for to hold that place necessi- 
 tates a degree of effort and occupation with petty things which 
 I believe incompatible with simplicity and elevation of mind. . . . 
 
 I have left no room for politics. M. de Chateaubriand has 
 not yet arrived ; but the turn things are taking makes one fear, 
 more than ever, that reconciliation is impossible. I embrace 
 you, dear friend, with all my heart ! Come back, come back ! 
 I need you every instant. 
 
 1 Count Georges de Caraman, attached to the embassy of Vienna. 
 
 2 Afterwards Princess Lieven, n4e Benckendorf. It should be re- 
 marked, that this celebrated woman, who made a profound impression on 
 European society, was not known to the Duchess de Duras when this 
 judgment was pronounced.
 
 166 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 October 22. 
 
 MY DEAR FRIEND, Although I wrote you eight days ago, 
 I cannot let the Abbe" Nicolle go without a letter. I have 
 none from you. I feel your absence whenever I am with any 
 of the persons who composed our little soirees. M. de Chateau- 
 briand has returned. M. de Huinboldt leaves Friday, to pass 
 five days with his brother in England. . . . 
 
 Here all is unchanged. The opponents protest they want to 
 be friends ; but, the truth is, they do not. I expect this session 
 will be consumed, like the last, in tacking between the two par- 
 ties. My poor friend has a year or two before him in which 
 to arrange his affairs, and nous verrons is the refrain of the 
 song. They are blazing away at the Duke de Raguse, for his 
 conduct at Lyons ; but I imagine that these great events, which 
 affect us so sensibly, look very small at your distance. The 
 great figure of the Revolution is broken into a heap of minute 
 de*bris : but, whether considered in detail or as a whole, it is 
 still the Revolution ; and these elements are perhaps none the 
 less dangerous when they are disunited, and when one is 
 attacked and wounded by them on every hand without the pos- 
 sibility of seeing or seizing them. . . . 
 
 Tell me that you are coming back, and that you do not 
 forget me. M. de La Garde gave me a fright about you the 
 other day. He told me that you would cease to write to me 
 some fine day, and yet that you would be always the same. 
 Do not believe it. I do not understand all this, but they may 
 think what they please. All the sophistry in the world will not 
 alter my opinion. You know that I am vulgar enough to be- 
 lieve that actions speak a thousand times louder than words. . . . 
 
 Do you know what M. Greffulhe did at his house the other 
 day ? You must know that he is subject to fits of suffocation 
 in the night, and that one of the things that help him most is 
 to go into fresh sheets and another bed. He has keys to all 
 the chambers in his castle, 1 and he promenades these all night 
 long. The other day, he arrived late in Paris, and went to bed 
 without a word to any one. It was warm ; and, in the middle 
 of the night, the suffocation seized him. Where should he 
 go to bed? He remembered a chamber occupied by Mme. 
 d'Audemare. Mme. d'Audemare was away, and the chamber 
 empty. M. Greffulhe arose, and, armed with a lantern and a 
 panne partout, he traversed a long corridor, opened the door, 
 entered a chamber, and prepared for repose. He approached 
 
 Bois Boudrant, near Melun.
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 167 
 
 the bed, and what do you think he saw? Mme. de Crillon 
 sound asleep, who had arrived the night before unknown to 
 him. Our new Scipio retired to his own apartment, and at 
 breakfast gave an account of this fine adventure, which sur- 
 prised Mme. de Crillon a good deal, since she had never 
 waked. It will take its place among the castle legends. How 
 foolish to write you all this nonsense. Adieu, dear friend ! 
 I am in a hurry. Write me, and give the lie to M. de La Garde ; 
 and especially come back, come back, come back ! If I should 
 say it till to-morrow, I should not feel that I had said it half as 
 much as I desire it. 
 
 PARIS, Oct. 31. 
 
 Nothing in my life has changed ! All is as it was when I 
 knew you ; but I have made up my mind that you alone could 
 do me good, and now I am minus the happiness and repose 
 which your friendship afforded me. Tell me in detail what has 
 necessitated this sad sacrifice. It is something sudden and 
 unlooked for, because you were coming, in spite of your sis- 
 ter's change of plans. Write me word about it. I need to 
 come to an understanding with you; It is I whom you have 
 sacrificed ; but, if it was your duty, do not think that I blame 
 you. No ! I certainly should not wish to owe your presence 
 to any thing which might disturb your mind. Your letter to 
 the Countess Stanislas * troubled me in more ways than one. 
 I am jealous of her : you love her very dearly. You will tell 
 me that she came too late ; but I imagine she is better worth 
 your love than I. She has such an air of repose. She pleases 
 me, but I am not at my ease with her. That will come, per- 
 haps, when we talk of you. I do not yet understand why, when 
 she has lost so many children, she should have deserted this 
 one. You know my doctrine of actions. They are every 
 thing. The finest words are of no account. I have seen the 
 Emperor 2 pass. Only the King and princes have more to boast 
 of. The Princess Bagration persisted in the cruelty of not 
 giving us even a night. As for me, I should have been satisfied 
 with a day. The Emperor used to be graceful. He is always 
 handsome, and I perceive that he has grown stout. 
 
 I am in the depths of despair since I have learned that you 
 are not to return. It is an accident, but it is true. I need 
 you, my friend, every moment ; and this sentiment is strength- 
 
 1 Countess Potocka nte Branicka. 
 
 a The Emperor Alexander on his return from England.
 
 168 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 ened, rather than weakened, by my increasing certainty that 
 there are so few like you. My poor heart, which I thought 
 quite dried up, renews its strength to love and to regret you. 
 Who knows but we shall meet some day in another country 
 than this? The Jacobins, in consequence of the measures 
 they have adopted, are acquiring new power every day. It 
 might still be possible to reduce them to the insignificance 
 whence they should never have emerged, but people are too 
 blind. And then I believe in divine decrees. Perhaps we shall 
 yet admire together the natural beauties of Switzerland or 
 Italy, in that country-home which shall be the asylum of my 
 family and my friends from France. The money destined for 
 its purchase is all ready ; and, when I find myself over-agitated 
 by the confusion and misery of the world, I meditate upon that 
 future, and instantly get calm. Adieu ! write to me. I shall 
 give this letter to the Countess Stanislas, who is to pass the 
 evening with me at the Tuileries. 1 
 
 November 19. 
 
 I have been troubled at receiving no jnews from you ; but 
 here it is at last, only too summary in relation to your own 
 affairs. You speak to me of myself: that is not necessary, 
 neither is it reasonable. When friends are as far apart as we 
 are, they cannot answer, but they can address one another. 
 Tell me, then, of all your occupations ; but do not waste these 
 precious sheets in replying to details which are foreign to us 
 both. What is not so, and what comes very near to my heart, 
 is your return. Do not attempt to dissemble the part which 
 I may have in it, nor underrate my share of gratitude. I accept 
 it all, and am equal to all, for I love you. At the com- 
 mencement of our acquaintance, I desired no sacrifices from 
 you, because I was not sure of my own affection ; but at present 
 I would demand such sacrifices, since I am quite ready to make 
 them. I shall see you, then, dear friend, in a year, minus 
 six days. Remember this, and see that you do not give me 
 a terrible disappointment. I will go where you will to meet 
 you, and we will spend a little time together. I should like to 
 spend my life so. I have not written you for a fortnight 
 because I have been anxious, and hoping to be delivered from 
 my anxiety, and able to tell you something positive. 
 
 * The Duke de Duras, as first gentleman of the bedchamber, was 
 lodged at the Tuileries.
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 169 
 
 Here Mme. de Duras enters into minute details about 
 her plans for the marriage of her daughter Clara. She 
 then resumes : 
 
 " Perhaps my first letter will contain some definite informa- 
 tion. 1 see that the letter which I sent to Just de Noailles 1 
 for you never reached you. The post is better every way. I 
 should not care to have Pozzo read these details. 
 
 " Our little soirees have commenced. Everybody misses 
 you, I most of all, and more just now than ever. M. de 
 Humboldt has been in England for a fortnight. He will have 
 witnessed the terrible affliction into which the country has been 
 plunged by the death of that poor young princess. 4 It is a fine 
 thing when the institutions of a country are such that a loss like 
 this is a misfortune : still it is not an event which can materially 
 influence the political existence of the nation ; and this of it- 
 self is a sufficient eulogium on the constitutional form of gov- 
 ernment. I believe that M. de Chateaubriand's work is not to 
 appear. He is unwilling to do any thing at this time which 
 might irritate, or be prejudicial to a reconstruction. I have 
 made the acquaintance of M. de Ville'le. He has an excellent 
 head, but his manner is a little too confidential to suit me. I 
 do not like ' asides ' unless they are absolutely necessary. 
 Possibly, it is a kind of affectation in him. I will reserve my 
 judgment : I have only seen him twice, and never tete-a-tete. 
 The Duke de Richelieu and M. Laisne are very much disaffected. 
 I am persuaded they will be turned out, as the Duke de Feltre 
 was. Royer Collard said yesterday, that the Concordat was a 
 political crime, and that to sustain it was a political folly. This 
 is the way these gentlemen treat one another ; and you know 
 what happens to a house divided against itself. I speak of these 
 men just as if you knew them ; but you know France so well, 
 it is difficult to believe that any interest or any individual 
 therein can be strange to you. I have diffused universal joy 
 by the announcement of your return. A year minus one day, 
 remember, dear friend ! My future is in that promise. 
 
 "I have received a delightful letter from a traveller. 3 He 
 gives a minute description of Athens and Constantinople. A sin- 
 
 1 Just de Noailles, Prince de Poix, at that time ambassador at St. 
 Petersburg. 
 
 2 Princess Charlotte, first wife of Prince Leopold of Saxe Coburg, 
 afterwards king of Belgium. 
 
 8 M. de Forbin.
 
 170 LITE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 gle small excavation between Phalerum and the Piraeus brought 
 to light two monuments, two vases, and several statues and 
 bas-reliefs. In about a fortnight, he accomplished a great deal. 
 I do not think his absence will be very long. He has visited 
 Constantinople, in spite of the pestilence, enveloped in a great 
 cloak of waxed taffeta. He has seen the Bezesteins, 1 the streets, 
 the edifices, and the Sultan, who is thirty-two years of age, 
 and very handsome. He says that the Turks elbowed him, the 
 Greeks laughed at him, and the Jews prostrated themselves be- 
 fore him, and the doves lit on his shoulders. The Abbe de 
 Janson has a superb moustache. He tries all the Arab horses, 
 and says mass every day. The cousins have a quarrel because 
 the Abbe de Janson 8 wishes to take the command of M. de 
 Forbin, and because they are infatuated like the late Bishop of 
 Marseilles. 3 Apropos of Mine, de Sevigne", I am to have her 
 crucifix, and a little trifle in sandal-wood, which belonged to her 
 writing-desk. One of them is destined for you. 
 
 "Yesterday I supped with the Duchess de Luynes. M. de 
 X. was happy. There was a scandal on foot ! Mine, de J. 
 and M. de la C. in the same room, seated side by side at play. 
 M. de la C. said to Mine, de J., 'I am very glad to see you ; ' and 
 the poor man was overcome. You can imagine the delight of 
 those who subsist on the follies of their neighbors. It is melan- 
 choly nourishment ; and the mind gets no good by it. Heavens ! 
 what a pitiful thing is conversation at these great parties ! It 
 was the opening of the year ; and nonsense, scandal, and friv- 
 olity bloomed in all their freshness. It is very well to take a 
 respite in summer from what is called the great world. To 
 have a taste for and enjoy it would be the greatest misfortune 
 which could happen to heart or mind. Adieu, dear friend ! 
 write me often, so often, that, when September comes, we shall 
 have nothing to say to one another. We shall have the happi- 
 ness of La Bruydre, ' To be with those we love is enough.' Ah, 
 how true this is ! and it is a happiness which will outlast this 
 life. In this thought I love to rest. 
 
 " M. Benoist 4 desires to be remembered to you. His son is 
 charming. M. de Richelieu does nothing for him." 
 
 1 Bazaars at Constantinople. 
 
 2 The Abbe" de Farbin Janson, afterwards Bishop of Nancy. 
 
 8 A bishop of Marseilles belonging to the family of Forbin ; see the 
 letters of Mme. de Sevign4. 
 
 4 Count Benoist, director-general under the Restoration, father of 
 Viscount Benoist d'Azy.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 171 
 
 In the ensuing letter Mme. de Duras returns to the de- 
 tails of her daughter's proposed marriage, and then 
 
 adds : 
 
 Jan. 29, 1818. 
 
 MY DEAR FRIEND, You must excuse me for allowing my- 
 self to dwell upon what, I must confess, occupies me exclusively 
 just now. I have no courage to speak of politics. If you 
 read the papers, you know as much as I do. 1 have had news 
 from M. de Forbin, dated at Jerusalem, Nov. 20. He was 
 to be in Egypt at this time. I think we shall see him the 
 ensuing summer. And you, when will you come? The 
 Russians here will not believe in your return. This irritates me 
 extremely. Moreover, I do not like them, and scarcely see 
 them at all, except the Galitzin for Catinka's sake. . . . 
 
 M. de Chateaubriand has broken one of the muscles of his 
 leg, and is confined to a sofa for forty days. I go to see him ; 
 but you have no idea of the void it makes in my life not to 
 have him in my cabinet for an hour or two in the morning 
 thinking aloud to me. I am mortally sad. There is nothing 
 more strictly internal than happiness ; yet what are external 
 objects without it ? It is the light which illumes them : all is 
 dull and lifeless when it is withdrawn. You write me very sel- 
 dom, and speak neither of yourself nor of your associates. 
 Our correspondence is not what I could wish. Have you seen 
 the nonsense which is said of me in the English journals, 
 how a statement has appeared in them of the opinions of MM. 
 de Fitz James and de Polignac, which I have reviewed and 
 corrected ? There is only one difficulty : these gentlemen do 
 not come to my house. The King knows it perfectly well, and 
 has said so : so that I should not care if I had not such a horror 
 of having my name in print anywhere and for any cause. This 
 piece of malice must have crossed the sea twice ; for I will 
 never believe that the Londoners take any interest in such 
 gossip. 
 
 Feb. 2, 1818. 
 
 This letter is truly conversational. I wish I might receive 
 one from you which should be equally confidential about your 
 own interests. Speak particularly of your return, and of all 
 which favors or hinders it. Mine, de Montcalm has been sick. 
 She is better ; but she is eaten up by politics. They are her 
 vulture. 
 
 1 Catinka Galitzin, Countess Edmund de Caumont
 
 172 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 M. de Humboldt is well. M. M. Benoist, d'Harcourt all 
 our friends are here. I no longer see M. de Villele, who is as 
 witty in conversation as in the tribune. You know very well 
 that I prefer the other side. In the matter of ultras, I like only 
 three or four distinguished men, the generals : the rank and 
 file weary me to death, and I do not see much of them. If M. 
 de Chateaubriand were to continue ill long, I should join the 
 ministerial party for very ennui, and the unreasonableness of 
 those who surround his couch. Adieu ! I embrace you. 
 
 May 3. 
 
 Still no news from you. Just arrived this morning, and 
 brought me nothing ; but at least I shall talk with him about 
 you, and that will be a pleasure to both of us. Your silence 
 grieves and disturbs me. You do not write, because you have 
 not the courage to tell me that you are not coining back ; and 
 as for me, my dear friend, I have not the courage to hear it. 
 Yes, I need you, need you greatly ! There are so many 
 things to say which one cannot write, and especially at such a 
 distance, and with the experience I have had in lost letters. 
 To whom did they go ? I want to tell to none but you the 
 pains and pleasures of my heart. 
 
 M. d' dreads M. de Duras. People who have com- 
 mitted political sins have singularly timorous consciences. 
 They imagine that men owe them a grudge for things long 
 since forgotten, and steps which Time has effaced a hundred 
 tunes over. This is the true state of the case ; but the uneasi- 
 ness which they experience themselves is much more difficult 
 to cure than that of which they suspect us. 
 
 May 5. 
 
 MY DEAR FRIEND, I have received your good letter of the 
 30th of March. Is it possible that the silliest rumor in the 
 world has reached you ? a rumor which lasted but two days, 
 and never had any foundation ; and which arose from the fact, 
 that M. de Duras, who had gone to see Mine, de Lubersac and 
 spend a fortnight at Usse" ' during planting time, when he found 
 the season advancing, left, not expecting the recruiting law. 
 But our position is not in the least altered. The King is always 
 the same to M. de Duras, and, without being any more in favor 
 with him, he is certainly no less so than when you were here. 
 
 1 Chateau near de Langeais, in Touraine.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 173 
 
 However, dear friend, you will make me regret disgrace, if it 
 could have brought you to my side. You are ill. Our climate 
 is necessary to you. Come back, I implore you ! I am dis- 
 consolate that you have no fixed plans. Tell me, then, the 
 nature of your difficulties. Your affairs are now in such a state, 
 that General Swetchine might wind them up, and then rejoin 
 you. Send me one decisive word. You repulse me in my 
 uncertainty. 
 
 ANDILLY, July 8. 
 
 MY DEAR FRIEND, I have received an adorable letter from 
 you. It ought to be enough for one's happiness to know that 
 there is, at the world's end, a being who loves one sincerely ; 
 and 1 always find that I am unjust to Providence when I ask 
 any thing more. Yet I do ask him more earnestly than ever 
 for your return. You are the only person who understands 
 my position ; and you give me good advice. ... I wrote you 
 about my cottage, where I have been established for a fortnight. 
 I received this morning your beautiful strips of needlework. 
 They shall be for the front of my sofa. I should like to adorn 
 myself with your gifts. Nothing could be prettier than my 
 little retreat. Why are you not here ? 
 
 Your chamber is ready, and so is Nadine's. Come, come, 
 dear friend ! Life is so short ; why should we waste it thus ? 
 I am anxious about your health. 1 believe our climate to be 
 much better for you than the Russian. All feeble constitutions 
 are recruited by the lovely weather we have had for three 
 mouths past. I am very well. My stomach is astonishingly 
 renovated. I sleep all night long, and they tell me I am grow- 
 ing stout ; but I am incredibly weak after my illness. I, who 
 was so strong, cannot endure the least fatigue without a re- 
 lapse. I am like a building which presents a fair appearance, 
 but has no stability. A breath upsets me. I have, besides, 
 those singular throbbings of the arteries about the heart. I 
 am convinced that the organ is enlarged ; and what surprises 
 me is, that I am still alive. I would give all the world if my 
 poor Clara were only happy. I pity myself to think that I can 
 be concerned about any thing else. What a letter ! all full of 
 me. How does it happen that I have such entire confidence in 
 you ? I did not suppose it possible any longer. It is the 
 strongest proof of friendship I could give you. 
 
 Yet once again I beg for some precise information about 
 your return. I need it more than I can tell you; and every 
 day that passes is so much taken from the friendship which will 
 be the blessing of our lives. Think of it, and do not let tri- 
 fling obstacles detain you ; and I call those trilling which are 
 not insurmountable.
 
 174 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 ANDILLY, Aug. 19. 
 
 I go to Paris on the evening of the 23d. Lord Wellington 
 has come ; but I have no hope. It makes no difference : one 
 must act precisely the same ; but all I do will be nullified by 
 what my poor friend writes. He is at his wit's end ; and you 
 can judge what his pen will produce, when he has thrown off 
 all restraint, and writes from a place where the most exag- 
 gerated style of opinion prevails. It is no use to hope. There 
 are characters, and especially orders, of talent, which are always 
 persecuted, or fancy that they are so. It would be forcing na- 
 ture to rescue M. de Chateaubriand from this infliction. 
 When all is said, he will remain a French peer; but, if he 
 could lose this rank, you may be sure he would. I have begun 
 a piece of work which interests because it does not fatigue me. 
 I am translating Glenarvon ; and I beg you to be so kind as 
 to read it. It is the freest translation possible. I add and 
 take away continually ; but I find so much talent and original- 
 ity, and so many things that I should have said myself, that it 
 is thoroughly amusing. I only manage to keep the thread of 
 the story ; but that is a support, and I make progress. Read 
 it. You will readily separate the gold from the alloy ; and 
 you will see whether I was mistaken about its original talent. 
 Nobody liked it ; but did anybody like Adolphe ? l 
 
 Nov. 23. 
 
 MY DEAR FRIEND, You are almost here ! This is all I can 
 see in your letter. What joy, what bliss, to see you again ! to 
 be sure that you are coming ! I love you with all the ardor of 
 my youth ! I should never have believed it possible. Yester- 
 day the Countess Stanislas, of whom I am very fond, came to 
 see me at the Tuileries. The first word she said was, that you 
 had left St. Petersburg, but that you were going to Rome. 
 She had learned it from the Countess de Nesselrode, who in- 
 formed her, at the same time, that you were going by the way 
 of Vienna, and that she had sent my portrait thither ; for I 
 have had my picture taken for you, dear friend, and Mine, de 
 Nesselrode had undertaken to forward the box to you. Rome 
 annoyed me : still I dared not murmur, since it was your sister 
 you were going to see. But what joy your yesterday's letter 
 gave me ! You are coming straight here, without that Italian 
 journey, which would inevitably have deferred your arrival till 
 
 1 By Benjamin Constant.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 175 
 
 spring. But no more changes. Do not take this comfort away 
 from me : it would be too hard ! I am so accustomed to 
 trouble, that the sensation of joy confuses me. The 19th of 
 October is so late a date for St. Petersburg, that I cannot be- 
 lieve Mine, de Nesselrode has the last intelligence. But you 
 are suffering, and you do not say how. The journey, it may 
 be, will fatigue you. The cold will be extreme, and the win- 
 ter promises to be severe ; and perhaps I am rejoicing when I 
 ought to mourn. Yet, once here, the climate suits you better 
 than that of Russia. I will take care o.f you : I will lead you 
 to the waters : I will take possession of you ; and it is my wish 
 that not a pang, mental or physical, should visit you while 
 with me. 
 
 This letter goes to Weimar ; but perhaps you will miss of 
 it there. I shall send it off at once. I embrace you a million 
 times. 
 
 Mme. Swetchine achieved, not without difficulty, the end 
 proposed by her journey, and became more and more con- 
 vinced that the benevolent disposition of the Emperor 
 Alexander did not enable him to enforce justice and im- 
 partiality about him. The prejudice against Catholicism 
 was on the increase ; and the soul of the Emperor grew 
 melancholy without his becoming either more enlightened 
 or firmer of purpose. The Count de Maistre had seen his 
 moral authority contested at the very moment when his of- 
 ficial position, along with the situation of the king, his 
 master, resumed its normal aspect, and he had expressed 
 a wish to leave St. Petersburg. 
 
 The Countess Edling continued to reside at the court 
 of Weimar. The Countess de Nesselrode, who was in- 
 volved, along with her husband, in the agitations of the 
 highest political circles, could only consecrate to her faith- 
 ful friendship those rare moments which she spared from 
 her imperative duties. Finally, to complete Mme. Swet- 
 chine's privations, she did not, on her return to Russia, 
 find her sister there. Prince Gargarin had happened to 
 excite the jealousy of Alexander, and had been attached to
 
 176 LIFE OP MADAME STTETCHINE. 
 
 the embassy at Rome. Mme. Swetchine was thus recalled 
 to France by a double attraction ; and, though she had not 
 conceived the idea of a permanent establishment at Paris, 
 she cherished a plan for a protracted residence in a country 
 which had captivated her taste and won her affection at 
 first sight. She arranged her affairs with a view to a 
 long absence ; and General Swetchine withdrew from a 
 court which he had never frequented in the character of 
 a courtier, and where he had more than once been sub- 
 jected to unmerited displeasure. 
 
 Both quitted Russia towards the end of the autumn of 
 1818, the General to return no more; Mme. Swetchine 
 to make one last journey thither in the reign of the Em- 
 peror Nicholas, and attain thereby, after the Revolution of 
 July, the privilege of an exceptional sojourn. 
 
 The Emperor and Empress permitted Mme. Swetchine's 
 voluntary exile, as they had permitted the departure of the 
 Countess Edling ; holding both in affectionate esteem, but 
 according their preference to intellects and hearts far less 
 worthy. The more absolute a monarch is, the more he 
 needs to be on his guard against the temptation of award- 
 ing to custom the place due to merit and services. Inferior 
 natures flatter, and to some extent corrupt, their masters, 
 even when they are not, consciously and voluntarily, 
 sycophantic and unprincipled. Without effort and without 
 premeditation, they stimulate and cherish a prince's con- 
 stant enjoyment of his superiority ; and, without being 
 exempt from vanity or infatuation, they are incapable of 
 raising these two elements of resistance to the height 
 of sustained dignity or sturdy complaint. Only too happy 
 to obey with a show of advising, they are restrained from 
 contradiction even more by sterility of thought than by 
 lack of courage.
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 177 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Unpublished letters of Count de Maistre. Mme. Swetchine's earliest 
 connections in Paris. Notes of the Abb6 Desjardins. Departure 
 of Mme. Swetchine for Italy. Correspondence with the Marquise de 
 Montcalm. 
 
 COUNT DE MAISTRE embarked on board a Rus- 
 sian vessel on the 27th of May, 1817; landed at 
 Calais on the 20th of June ; and, on the 24th, arrived in 
 Paris. It had been his wish to see France before revisiting 
 his native land ; but he was soon at Turin, yielding him- 
 self unrestrainedly to the sweets of domestic life, which 
 were almost unknown to him. He put the finishing 
 touches to several of his works, brought out his book on 
 " The Pope," and prepared the " Soirees de St. Peters- 
 burg." Three of his letters have been preserved. The 
 first, dated in Russia, speaks of the regret caused by Mme. 
 Swetchine's departure, and invokes her memory in the 
 name of her sorrowing friends. The two others are sub- 
 sequent to M. de Maistre's return to Piedmont. The three 
 are given consecutively, notwithstanding the difference in 
 
 their dates : 
 
 ST. PETERSBURG, Aug. 17 (29), 1816. 
 
 I am charged, madame, by your good friend the Countess 
 Razoumofsky, with a sad message for you, to acquaint you, 
 namely, with the death of her good mother, the poor Baroness 
 de Maltzen, whom yesterday we accompanied to her last rest- 
 ing-place. She died on Monday, the 14th, about five o'clock 
 in the morning, in the arms of her daughter and the faithful 
 Carize. Mine. Viollier, who is occupying at present a little 
 country-seat on the road from Catherinhof, close to Peterhof, 
 has very opportunely assumed charge of the poor Countess, 
 
 12
 
 178 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 and taken her home with her. I am going to see her. The 
 Princess Sherebatof is making great exertions in her behalf; 
 and, in short, we are doing what we can. But how we miss 
 you ! and how your absence has been regretted on this sad occa- 
 sion by the unhappy widow ! for such she is. 
 
 Mine, de Maltzen took remedies which burned her; and, 
 when she swallowed them, she said, "You are killing me!" 
 After her death, the physician decided that she had an abscess 
 in the chest which he had not suspected. Thereupon, the poor 
 Countess tore her hair, and would have it that she was to blame 
 for not having prevented the use of those remedies. You can 
 imagine what a dispute she had with Stoffsin. O medicine ! we 
 are constantly seeing new triumphs of thine ! The Grand- 
 marshal leaves to-day or to-morrow, in a deplorable state. It 
 is nothing more or less than a consumption of the bowels. He 
 goes accompanied by his daughter, who is enceinte, his son, and 
 a physician ; but, consumed by a frightful dysentery, he will 
 die in some neighboring inn. You are simple enough, it may 
 be, madame, to ask the foolish question why he goes. Ah, you 
 know nothing about it ! The Emperor has given him a hundred 
 thousand roubles for his journey; so he must go, that is plain. 
 
 To return to your afflicted friend. She had a great desire 
 to return immediately to town, and take a lodging near the 
 church ; but it could not be. Her house, as you know, ma- 
 dame, is disputed property : it is not known to whom it belongs. 
 The Emperor came to no decision before his departure. The 
 syndics say they are syndics no longer, since the promulgation 
 of the imperial ukase, and refuse to accept their arrears of pay. 
 There seems to be no reason why this state of things should 
 not continue. I hope, by God's grace, that the house will be 
 destroyed before the question of its ownership is settled. 
 
 Yesterday, the poor lady's last word before we parted was, 
 "You will write to her, will you not? " You may be sure, 
 madame, that my promise was readily given. As soon as your 
 friend has recovered some degree of strength and calmness, 
 you will receive a long letter from herself. 
 
 I have no information to give you about myself, madame, 
 except that, according to all appearances, I shall yet pass the 
 winter with you. The destiny which awaits me under other 
 skies will be better discussed in conversation than by letter. 
 In one way or another, I hope to find myself once more upon 
 your track ; and, while looking forward to our re-union, I shall 
 not cease to mourn for you. You certainly ought, madame, to 
 ask for Prince Kalsofsky's ' place at Turin. You are not as 
 
 1 Minister from Russia to the court of Sardinia.
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 179 
 
 heavy as he, but you have more weight ; and, though your mind 
 may be "weak and illogical," 1 ours will easily accommodate 
 themselves thereto. Take my word for it, my good Sophie, 
 and come forward. 
 
 You cannot guess, madame, how deeply I am obliged to that 
 good princess who has never failed to give me tidings of you. 
 Every Wednesday and Saturday I institute an inquiry. I know 
 not, when I arrive, but you are already burned : 2 but when 
 she has said "She speaks of you, M. le Comte," then all is 
 said. Happily, it is a good deal. 
 
 I kiss the hands of Sophie with respect, and beg her to hold 
 me in remembrance, mine of her is eternal. 
 
 So I finish, as our fathers used, with a prayer that God will 
 have you in his safe and holy keeping. Nothing can be fitter. 
 May he shield you, and enlighten you, and bless you ! 
 Your very humble servant and eternal friend, 
 
 PHILOMATES DE CIVARRON. 
 
 Did I ever tell you, madame, that this is my Latin name? 3 
 
 TURIN, Oct. 26, 1819. 
 
 MY DEAR AND HONORED FRIEND, I received your Vienna 
 letter on the 13th of September. Pray, do not wonder at my 
 silence. I have been constantly on the move since my depart- 
 ure from Paris, and have resumed no regular correspondence. 
 In the first place, I went home, where I spent six days in a 
 kind of perpetual enchantment, surrounded by brothers, sisters, 
 nephews, nieces, and cousins, male and female, caressed, 
 feted, glorified, spoiled, after an incredible fashion. I then 
 repaired to Turin, where I was patched up most artisti- 
 cally. Then to Genoa, to my sister, Mrae. de St. Real, who 
 set about demoralizing me anew. But here I am at last, sur- 
 rounded by the best of remedies, and I do not believe that my 
 attacks at Chamb^ry and Genoa will have any serious conse- 
 quences. 
 
 I know no more of my future than on the day when I first 
 
 1 An allusion to the terms of the ukase which proscribed the Jesuits. 
 
 2 The Princess Gargarin was accustomed carefully to burn her corre- 
 spondence with her sistor. 
 
 * Philomates, derived from the Greek, signifies a friend of science; 
 and Civarron is the Latin name for Chambe'ry. The Cardinal Chigi, who 
 became pope under the name of Alexander VII., had already, in the 
 seventeenth century, adopted the pseudonym of
 
 180 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 set foot in this august capital. My position is indefinable. I 
 wish you were here to see ; but, while I await the finale, of 
 which I shall inform you, I am not in the least impatient. I 
 have seen others in these twenty years. You shall be apprised 
 of all that occurs to me ; and I hope you will treat me in the 
 same way. There must be no divorce, or even separation, 
 between us. 
 
 Ah, how those absurd ideas of geography and chronology 
 will keep occurring to my mind, when I think of you ! My 
 poor vine ! when beaten by the storm, to what elm will you 
 cling ? when your heart swells with bitterness and contradic- 
 tion, what will you do? will you crush it between two stones? 
 Do not, in God's name ! But, when you are so inclined, write 
 to me. I shall never get accustomed to your absence, to 
 the impossibility of calling upon you to give an account of 
 your thoughts, your joys, and your sorrows. When you are 
 fairly settled, send me a sketch of your cabinet, that I may 
 see your table, your arm-chair, and the place for your books. 
 I am doing my best to add to your stock ; but I am constantly 
 thwarted in one way and another. If I succeed, it will be a 
 great affair. The Duchess de Duras was calmly oblivious of 
 the work upon her desk. She had never bestowed a thought 
 upon it, still less upon its author. When M. de Chateau- 
 briand at last informed me of the fact, with all sorts of polite 
 apologies, I burst out laughing in perfect good faith. It was 
 very well for the Duchess de Duras to forget me ; but, for my- 
 self, I never think of her without recalling the utter failure I 
 made in her hotel. I felt gauche, embarrassed, absurd. I did 
 not know to whom to speak, and I did not understand the 
 others. It was one of the strangest experiences of my life. 
 It seems to me that I told you about it at Paris. 
 
 I cannot yet satisfy all the anxieties of your friendship on 
 my account. What you say has certainly been said here, and 
 many other things besides ; but nothing is decided, nor even 
 probable. What amuses me is your idea about Rome. 1 I 
 shall amuse you, too, some day, by telling you what other 
 person, or personage, has conceived the same idea. In effect, 
 as far as I personally am concerned, nothing would suit me 
 better ; but the slightest observation of my surroundings will 
 reveal to you obstacles which are almost insurmountable. 
 This permanent separation from my son is a species of damna- 
 tion : I cannot think of it without rage. 
 
 1 Mme. Swetchine was surprised that M. de Maistrc was not ap- 
 pointed ambassador to the sovereign pontiff.
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 181 
 
 You say what is very pleasant and very true, whether 
 agreeable to reason or not. Poor woman ! It is too true : 
 she is always accused of thwarting us at every point. 
 
 Adieu, iny good, my excellent, my esteemed Irieud. Do not 
 forget that 1 cannot do without your regard and your affection. 
 My thoughts will always follow you. My heart will ever feel 
 the value of yours. 
 
 Rest your aching head upon some soft cushion. Sleep 
 sweetly. Genius and virtue will shield you from every evil 
 dream. I kiss your hands reverentially, as well as those of 
 your amiable companion, with her permission. 
 
 I beg that you will not fail to forward the enclosed hymn. 
 It can go by the post, if there is no other way. What you 
 tell me about the probable arrangement of your affairs, en- 
 chants me. May it quickly emerge from the sphere of possi- 
 bilities into that of realities ! My respects, if you please, to 
 your husband. 
 
 TUKIN, July 22, 1818. 
 
 MY GOOD SOPHIE, Though suffering the acutest grief, I 
 have strength enough remaining to inquire the reason of your 
 silence. On the 24th of last December, 1 wrote to you in 
 Moscow, whence you yourself had written me, but received 
 no reply. On the 2d of last May, I wrote you again at Vienna, 
 in the care of M. Artaud : still no answer. 
 
 I have lost my brother, the Bishop of Aosta. He has just 
 died in my arms. We were planning a fraternal re-union lor 
 the 19th. Almost all my family were collecting from different 
 parts of the empire, to enjoy at my house one of those un- 
 speakable meetings of which we have been so long deprived. 
 On the morning of the 18th, he who was chief among us died 
 after an illness of only four or five hours, which we had taken 
 for a trifling indisposition. W r e are desolate, thunder-struck, 
 more dead than he! A famous orator, apostle, theologian, 
 and man of the world, as much admired at Geneva as among 
 ourselves; an excellent brother ; my childhood's friend, this 
 is what I have lost. Ah, madarae, it is a terrible blow ! It is 
 with difficulty that I pen these lines, which I cannot extend ; 
 but I was unwilling to lose the opportunity. Pity me ; and, if 
 you have not forgotten me, tell me so. 
 
 If you were here, would you not be in the very room where 
 I write ? I kiss your hand, while I bathe it with my tears. 
 
 M. de Maistre did not long survive the Bishop of Aosta. 
 He died 011 the 26th of February, 1821, at the age of
 
 182 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHIXE. 
 
 sixty-seven, in the fulness of his powers, but oppressed 
 by sad forebodings of the future of Italy and France. His 
 portrait, which Mme. Swetchine kept constantly before her, 
 was hung in her favorite saloon, between that of the Coun- 
 
 O ' 
 
 tess de Nesselrode and that of the Duchess de Duras. 
 The three pictures were wrought by different artists, and 
 in different countries ; but, by a singular coincidence, they 
 were of precisely the same dimensions, as if their prox- 
 imity had been fore-ordained. The memory of M. de 
 Maistre continued, so to speak, to brood above the life of 
 Mme. Swetchine. We shall have occasion to remark here- 
 after the deep feeling which his name never failed to 
 awaken, and to see how indissolubly the great soul re- 
 mained attached to the great memory. 
 
 Among many attractions which contributed their share 
 towards fixing the residence of Mme. Swetchine in France, 
 we may safely affirm, that the first and strongest was the 
 freedom, the dignity, and the charity of the Catholic 
 Church. For the first time in her life, she calmly con- 
 templated religion in all the majesty of its social achieve- 
 ments and institutions, came in contact with minds as 
 vigorous as her own, and felt herself understood. In seek- 
 ing a director for her soul, however, Mme. Swetchine had 
 regard neither to brilliancy of position nor the prestige of 
 eloquence. A venerable ecclesiastic the Abbe Desjar- 
 dins was living under the shadow of the towers of Notre 
 Dame, in a modest retreat, laboriously occupied and 
 piously absorbed by the incessant duties of his apostolate. 
 Mme. Swetchine obtained an introduction to him, and per- 
 haps it would be proper to confine ourselves to this simple 
 statement ; but after we have displayed, in the correspon- 
 dence of Mme. de Duras, the homage paid her by rank 
 and wealth, is it not fair to show, in the tender regard of
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 183 
 
 the humble priest, a reflection of the first years of Mme. 
 Swetchine's Catholic life ? Is it not also just to honor in 
 M. Desjardins the exquisite type of the old French clergy, 
 and recall to the mind of a generation somewhat prone to 
 forgetfulness its potent qualities of meekness, urbanity, and 
 self-devotion ? 
 
 The first letter of the Abbe Desjardins is dated previ- 
 ous to Mme. Swetchine's journey to Russia. An ac- 
 quaintance with her of less than a year had been enough 
 to inspire him to write as follows : 
 
 MY VERY DEAR AND GOOD DAUGHTER, It is by force of 
 
 habit that I give you the second epithet, and because, up to this 
 time, you have deserved it in a remarkable degree. But, if it 
 were possible for you to forfeit it, you would do so to-day. 
 Certainly, it was no good angel who inspired you to make me a 
 superb present. Would such an one have suggested to you to 
 engrave upon silver gilt what your heart had to say to mine ? 
 If you only knew how this outlay wounds me ! A trifle, such 
 as you are accustomed to offer, would have been much more 
 flattering. Still, the dread of wounding your feelings induces 
 me to keep your gift. After all, it is a memorial of your affec- 
 tion, and I will read the inscription over every day, if only to 
 correct it. 
 
 I want to put my own principles in practice. I shall offer 
 you no splendid gift, yet one which will not be without its 
 value to you, a reliquary, made from the wood of the true 
 cross, which I have carried in a little portfolio, and used for 
 six years, and which I had with me in my imprisonment. 1 I 
 add a book from my poor library, and present these offerings 
 along with my tender farewells. There is also a book of medi- 
 tations for good Nadine : it is all simple, like my own soul. 
 
 You are going away : shall I ever see you again in this 
 world of sorrow and care ? We know not, neither you nor I. 
 Let us both strive after a meeting in a better land. Let us 
 emulate one another in the love of Him who has bought so 
 dearly the right to our affection. 
 
 I cannot let you go without informing you of some events 
 which are likely to alter my position. You only, of all the 
 
 1 Under the empire, during the persecutions of Pius VII.
 
 184 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 world, know that the bishopric of Blois was offered to me, and 
 tbat I felt obliged to refuse it : although I have procured for 
 my best friend the adjoining one of Orleans. Afterward, I 
 was offered either the cure of St. Thomas Aquinas or a place 
 in the bishopric, with a salary of ten thousand francs and an 
 honorable title. I have not made my choice. It seems that 
 one place or the other will be given me ; a matter which I 
 leave to my superiors, though I have begged them to leave me 
 in peace. I would not allow my daughter, who is at the same 
 time my worthy and honored friend, to remain ignorant of 
 this ; and I beseech her never to think of me without a prayer 
 for my eternal safety. Adieu ! You may rely on my promise : 
 I will never approach the sacred altar without presenting your 
 name along with my sacrifice. Be so kind as to give Mile. 
 Nadine my magnificent present, and assure her that I do not 
 wish to see her parted from you. Allow me also to retain my 
 place with you. DESJARDINS. 
 
 This 18th of August, 1814. 
 
 P.S. The blessings of the poor of my parish are added to 
 my own gratitude for your kind care of them. Do not forget 
 the Rue des Brodeurs at St. Petersburg, where you never 
 went but to do good. 
 
 Neither the friends nor the superiors of the Abbe Des- 
 jardins could overcome his modesty ; and he persisted in 
 refusing the episcopal dignities, as he here states in such 
 simple terms. They were unwilling, however, that his 
 light should remain entirely hidden ; and, on Mme. Swet- 
 chine's return to France, she found him grand-vicar of the 
 Archbishop of Paris, along with M. de Quelen, who al- 
 ways professed and retained the tenderest veneration for 
 him. M. de Que"len himself had recently been appointed 
 co-adjutor of the Cardinal de Perigord, who died, at a very 
 advanced age, in the month of March, 1821. 
 
 The majority of the ensuing notes from the Abbe Des- 
 jardins are undated, and no attempt has been made to 
 arrange them methodically. Their value lies in their tone 
 of feeling and charm of expression.
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 18o" 
 
 I consecrate to God the first moment of the new year ; and 
 to you, the second, my amiable and indulgent daughter. Upon 
 my prie-Dieu, having finished my orisons, but while still 
 upon my knees, I oner you my vows; or rather I address 
 my supplications to our common Master, that he will open 
 wide his hands, and bestow on you the treasures of his pity. 
 
 I learn from little L. some circumstances which will give 
 pain to your household, and oblige the Prince and Princess to 
 adopt other plans for the education of their dear children. I 
 advise with L., and reserve the right of a father and an old 
 man to lecture him. The little man has upset my first surprise. 
 " He has sucked no bears' marrow," as they say. Pu. D. 
 
 You are here, then, my best and worthiest friend ! How I 
 shall delight to see you, and repair, by a little chat, the void 
 of your long absence ! I shall come to see you ; but, at all 
 events, you may be sure of finding me at the Archbishop's 
 palace to-morrow, and Wednesday until noon. Thursday I 
 am at the Missions from early morning till half-past one. 
 I am tormented, and must quit you abruptly for some tiresome 
 people, who know not that they are so. My best respects. 
 
 What an event was that yesterday at St. Genevieve ! l A 
 princess, who had never appeared in higher health, falls ill, and 
 is taken out a corpse. I am so shaken by the blow, that I have 
 only strength to cry for mercy. Let him who standeth realize 
 that he may fall, and fall stone-dead, with no further prepara- 
 tion than that afforded by blooming health. 
 
 I will be ready for you to-morrow, if it be still allowable to 
 put any thing ofi till to-morrow. PH. D. 
 
 I have, indeed, received the letter of my dear and worthy 
 daughter and friend, but I have not seen young Gravel ; 
 and I must see him before I can talk the matter over with you, 
 O best, kindest, and most generous of creatures ! 
 
 I shall pay my respects as soon as there are more than 
 twenty-four hours in the day ; for I get behindhand a little at 
 each turn of the wheel. Still I want very much to see you. 
 Receive the assurance of my respectful affection. PH. D. 
 
 1 The death of the Duchess of Bourbon.
 
 186 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 MY EXCELLENT DAUGHTER AND FRIEND, You Will do 
 
 me a great favor by sending me some news of yourself: I was 
 sure you were suffering. God only spares those of whom he 
 can make nothing, as the architect does not cut the stones 
 which he cannot use for building. I am using the language of 
 dedication. Let us celebrate the service to-morrow. Let us 
 reconsecrate the temple, the true temple worthy of God's 
 presence, the pure mind and the heart which glows for him 
 alone. Adieu ! Accept my respects for yourself and the 
 Princess. 
 
 MY VERY DEAR FRIEND, I am distressed by your useless 
 journeys. Will you come Monday at one o'clock? I will be 
 at home to you alone. Come at noon even. We shall have a 
 little leisure to speak of what is near our hearts, which com- 
 prehend, and will always comprehend, one another so perfectly. 
 I would that you might have nothing but consolations : but 
 God does not will this, and so it cannot be best for you ; for 
 he is good, and understands our affairs thoroughly. We will 
 never cease to confide them to him, and to love him ; and 
 that will be some compensation for the loneliness to which the 
 pettiness of this life condemns us. The King came here 
 yesterday in procession. He had the extreme goodness to 
 stop, and ask after my health with the grace you know to be 
 his. The Dauphin did the same, and even the Dauphiness. 
 'Tis a pitch of favor which takes away my breath, when I con- 
 sider my own insignificance in comparison with such a distinc- 
 tion. But, thank God ! I do not think I am puffed up by it. 
 Monday, at about noon ! I pray without ceasing for my excellent 
 daughter and friend. 
 
 MY VERY DEAR DAUGHTER AND WORTHY FRIEND, I am 
 
 tormented with remorse for having left almost without warning, 
 and without bidding you adieu. Yes, I have quitted Paris, 
 Conflans, the Seine, and the world, to come and draw breath at 
 Courteille. 1 One feels as if one had said good-by to the 
 universe in this beautiful retreat. The earth and its creatures 
 are wholly changed. Nothing here resembles what is left be- 
 
 1 Courteille was the home of the Countess de Courteille, who lived there 
 with her daughter, the Marquise de Kouchehouart, and her grand-daugh- 
 ter, the Duchess de Richelieu.
 
 LIFE OP M1DAME SWETCHINE. 187 
 
 hind, unless it ie the heart and the faculty of loving; for 
 there are hearts in this place which are very kind, and own a 
 benevolence marvellously like friendship. 
 
 And then you draw breath in the sweetest shades, and ram- 
 ble about, without either climbing or descending, by a variety of 
 paths which communicate with one another, and only take you 
 back to the house when you have lost your way. You will say 
 that it is a small merit in a garden to have no rising ground, not 
 even an apparent precipice ; but, dear, you are not sixty-six 
 years old, and the proprietors with whom I am staying are 
 eighty and more : besides, I shall have enough of hills and valleys 
 when I return ; so let me take comfort in the smoothness and 
 the level walking. 
 
 I am reading a sort of pamphlet which amuses me, but 
 which I should like to read by your side. It is Rulhieres on 
 the Revolution in Russia which raised Catharine to the throne. 
 I must acknowledge that I am horrified by all I read ; and what 
 I want to know is, whether it be true. As for the results, they 
 are indisputable ; but the details seem to me to have been 
 made up by some profligate, for the sake of bringing contempt 
 and hatred upon the authorities. 
 
 MY DEAR DAUGHTER AND INCOMPARABLE FRIEND, I have 
 received, read, and pressed to my lips, your little letter from 
 Vichy, dated the nineteenth of the present month. I hasten to 
 reply, helpless as I am. Fortunately, I am less so in my hands 
 than in my legs, which are larger, just now, than a young lady's 
 waist. Whence comes this ? you will say. Ah, whence comes 
 it ? Whence comes the wind ? It is the wind that has caused 
 all the mischief, and compelled me to accomplish in a few days 
 a very different journey from that to Mount Dor. In short, it 
 was a case of perspiration checked suddenly by an icy chill. 
 Then came paroxysms of fever, bloodletting, emetics, purging, 
 convalesence, and swelling of the limbs, which it is to be hoped 
 will close the comedy. The Archbishop has taken me to 
 C'onllans, where I am resting, and whence I reply to all your 
 affronts. 
 
 It is not decided that the journey to Mount Dore" shall take 
 place. The Faculty is deliberating. Let us await its oracle. 
 I await it resignedly, and find myself as well here as at the 
 waters. Do not think, my dear daughter, for all my pretended 
 insensibility, that I can pass by Vichy without halting for a 
 few hours to assure myself that the waters are doing you
 
 188 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 good. I wish my doctors would send me to Vichy : the 
 pleasure of being with you would cure me. I hope our time 
 may not have been lost, and that we shall encourage one 
 another to turn the miseries of life to good account for eternity. 
 Ah, my dear daughter, how the view of that boundless future 
 enlarges the soul, and makes it long impatiently for the break- 
 ing of its chain ! How long and hard our exile seems to me ! 
 When will our time come to fly away to our native land ? 
 
 PH. D. 
 
 Yes, yes, my dear daughter and incomparable friend, 
 go to God, who is our protector and our all, and render 
 thanks for the varied benefits which he has been bestowing ever 
 since we came into the world. 
 
 I was going to offer thanks to him for you and for me, when 
 people came, and I had to quit his presence. But he is every- 
 where. In these days of ice and hoar-frost, he receives us by 
 the fireside, even by our own, repairing thither in his 
 goodness. 
 
 Receive my wishes for the opening year. I ought to think 
 that this will be my last. " He that hath ears to hear, let him 
 hear." Pray, my dear friend, that my end may be peace, and 
 continue to lay up treasure for a few years more. One can 
 never have enough. Forgive my idle hand and worn-out 
 brain. My heart remains, and is still true : you hold in it the 
 next place to our Master. Adieu ! 
 
 MY VERY DEAR DAUGHTER AND EXCELLENT FRIEXD, 
 
 Our Lord, I think, will find wholly superfluous the account 
 which you expect to have to render him. I shall give it 
 him at once, and transmit any message he may have for 
 you. 
 
 I learn that you are suffering, and that you have bad 
 nights. If I were less feeble, I would tell you all that is in my 
 heart towards you ; but I am sinking away. Pray for your 
 dying friend. 
 
 To this fatherly guidance, so precious to Mme. Swet- 
 chine, deeper friendships were added, day by day. The 
 connections formed with the Duchess de Duras and in her 
 salon were enlarged and fortified by intimacies born of the
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 189 
 
 community of all lofty inspirations. By the side of M. Cu- 
 vier and his family, M. de Gerando and M. Abel Remusat, 
 ranged themselves the Viscount de Bonald, the Count de 
 Divonne, the Baron Eckstein, the Marquis of Quinsonnas. 
 The Marquise de Pastoret, the Duchess de la Rochefou- 
 cauld, the Duchess de Damas, the Duchess de Maille, the 
 Marquise de Lillers, the Countess de Saint Aulaire, and 
 the Countess Octave de Segur were already being drawn 
 towards the two sisters of the Duke de Richelieu by the tie 
 of a common affection, and the sway of a common charm. 
 This grand naturalization of intellect and heart had already 
 transformed the salon of the Russian stranger into one of 
 the most select and delightful firesides of the best French 
 society, when an incident in her private life caused Mme. 
 Swetchine suddenly to resolve upon a journey which she 
 herself considered in the light of a second expatriation. 
 
 Nadine Staeline had never left her adopted mother, and 
 had grown into an accomplished and attractive young lady. 
 The Countess Octave de Segur had three sons. The 
 youngest of the three, Raymond de Segur d'Auguesseau, 
 astonished at once his mother and her friends by making 
 known his fixed determination to marry Mile. Staeline, 
 foreigner though she was, and in feeble health. Mme. 
 Swetchine, who was the last person in the world to make 
 use of an affection to promote an interest, no sooner learned 
 the sentiments of young De Segur, than she began to 
 reproach herself severely for not having foreseen and dis- 
 couraged them. She did not confine herself to the resist- 
 ances and remonstrances of a frigid reason, but determined 
 to sacrifice herself, to quit France, and not to return 
 thither till she had tried the effect of absence and forget- 
 fulness. In selecting the place of her voluntary exile, Mme. 
 Swetchine turned her eyes towards Italy, lured thither
 
 190 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHIXE. 
 
 by her religious fervor, her passionate fondness for study, 
 and the presence of her sister. Her absence, and the situ- 
 ation which necessitated it, lasted two years. 
 
 Some fragments of the correspondence of Mme. Swet- 
 chine during this journey have been preserved. They may 
 speak for themselves : 
 
 TO THE MAKQUISE DE MONTCALM. 
 
 TURIN, Sept. 24, 1823. 
 
 How happy I was to find a letter from you here ! and how 
 much I thank you for letting me hear the sound of a friendly 
 voice in the midst of this crowded solitude ! Absence has a 
 marvellous effect in assigning things to their true places. If I 
 had undertaken the present journey for any purposes of pleas- 
 ure, or curiosity even, I give you my word that I should have 
 turned back a hundred times. This necessity for looking out 
 for one's time and one's money every moment is intolerable ; 
 and the prose of travelling encroaches so far upon its poetry, 
 that our best moments seem to be too dearly bought. You can- 
 not imagine the petty vexations to which one has to submit in 
 the cities. Everywhere a jealous and annoying surveillance re- 
 minds one of the most troublous times. Every official exceeds 
 his duty in order, apparently, to be sure that he fulfils it. 
 What a pitiful arrangement ! and how many suspicious circum- 
 stances may be discovered when one is on the watch for them ! 
 
 Savoy, in spite of its severity of aspect, struck me as charm- 
 ing. Its lofty mountains prepare one insensibly for the majes- 
 tic grandeur of the Alps. As you come down on the Piedmont 
 side, the transition is abrupt. Three hours after leaving the 
 Convent of Mont Cenis, I found myself in the pleasant little 
 town of Suza, in the midst of a square, still enlivened by a fair 
 which had taken place the night before ; and, two paces from 
 my window, a rope was stretched, on which a mountebank was 
 exercising his talent. Every thing along the route I have fol- 
 lowed reminds one of France. Savoy is wholly French, and 
 Piedmont half so. The Savoyard often speaks French better 
 than the French peasant himself; and the Piedmontese mingles 
 it with his bad Italian. But how incomplete the illusion is ! and 
 how often am I reminded that I am outside that dear France 
 which no foreigner ever loved as I do ! I shall write you from 
 Florence, perhaps sooner; and, meanwhile, I beg you often 
 to recall the fact, that the slightest proofs of your remembrance 
 are infinitely dear to me. lo-day, the Austrian troops finally 
 evacuate the Sardinian territory.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCDINE. 191 
 
 FLORENCE, Oct. 31, 1823. 
 
 With the exception of three or four days passed pleasantly 
 at Geneva, my journey, since leaving Turin, has been painful, 
 and the latter part of the way even dangerous. I would de- 
 scribe it, had I not determined to spare you, the mountains, the 
 torrents, and the sea, all the grand effects, in short, which are 
 particularly agreeable to those impassioned natures whom you 
 desire never to hear mentioned again. The farther I penetrate 
 into this country, the more I regret not having seen it ten years 
 earlier. I might not have observed it to better purpose, but I 
 should certainly have enjoyed it more. Italy has all the bright- 
 ness, all the naivete, and all the inspiration, of youth ; and I 
 feel that it is impossible to arrive at a just appreciation of her 
 by judging her coolly. It is not enough to be transiently en- 
 chanted by the contemplation of her treasures. We must for- 
 get every thing under her skies, and be so fascinated by the 
 twofold enchantment of nature and of art, that we shall be 
 absorbed in our pleasant emotions, and scarcely heed those 
 which are painful. I am very far from this state, and am con- 
 stantly lapsing from the enthusiasm which certain objects excite 
 in me to the severity called forth by certain facts. It is from 
 a heart thoroughly French that I thank God for this happy 
 issue ' of the great undertaking. The King of France is now 
 restored for the third time to his throne ; and I hope this time 
 all is well. This success ought so to strengthen the -govern- 
 ment, that it may be confident of reducing friends and enemies 
 alike if it will, and of making them walk in those ways of wis- 
 dom and moderation which thus far have appeared to suit 
 neither party. This is no reason for despairing of their cause ; 
 for I see so many people who mismanage their own affairs, that 
 I consider it an immense gain not to be one's own worst enemy. 
 Who can say as much of us ? Alas ! not I nor you. 
 
 ROME, Dec. 2, 1823. 
 
 My sorrow for having neglected writing to you so long 
 ought to move your heart, if you had not made it the most selfish 
 thing possible by persuading me that I have no chance of a 
 word from you which I have not provoked. The truth is, that, 
 as to affection and the marks thereof, you are still under the 
 old regime ; and all my gratitude for the note I have just re- 
 
 1 The deliverance of the King of Spain.
 
 192 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 ceived cannot obliterate my regret for the silence which pre- 
 ceded, and that which will probably follow it. This frame of 
 mind will not let me enjoy the present ; and I should forgive 
 you more readily, it may be, if this habit of yours were not the 
 effect of a system which you ought to have sacrificed to common 
 sense, as I have done. My journey hither occupied about 
 eight days ; and, immediately after my arrival. I became so ill, 
 that, for ten or twelve days, I was incapable of the slightest 
 exertion, and could only enjoy the delight of finding myself 
 once more quite en famille, warming myself in the rays of the 
 bright sun of Rome, and reposing, in short, upon the breast of 
 that dolce far niente which has its value even under the most 
 unfavorable auspices. I find they have a charming establish- 
 ment. 1 They have fitted up simply, but in very good taste, one 
 of these Roman palaces, 2 which cost no more than very common 
 lodgings at Paris, and are thus enabled to unite in their dwell- 
 ing the peculiar advantages of both countries, comfort and 
 beauty. The hall where we dine is covered with frescoes by 
 Albano ; and, at the foot of the courtyard, we have a fountain 
 which elsewhere would adorn a public square. The magnifi- 
 cence of the buildings, and the materials employed in them, is 
 incredible. These marble columns explain the taste for porti- 
 cos. Surely, I have not been insensible to what I have hitherto 
 seen in Italy ; but it is nothing, compared with the lively, pro- 
 found, and ineffaceable impression made by Rome. She is the 
 queen of cities ; a world apart from that which we have 
 known, where all is unlike what we encounter elsewhere, whose 
 beauties and contrasts are of so lofty an order, that one is 
 wholly unprepared for them ; and their effect can neither be 
 imagined nor described. Every lack we find at Rome adds to 
 the impression she produces. One would not see her Cam- 
 pagna cultivated, her well-nigh deserted suburbs repeopled, 
 or the inhabited portion of the city enlarged. Rome, bearing 
 the impress of antiquity, must needs be a little sad to corre- 
 spond with so much subverted power and grandeur in the dust. 
 1 our ideas are enlarged here, your emotions more deeply re- 
 ligious ; your heart is at peace ; you hardly dare to suffer in the 
 sight of spots which recall so much suffering, nor fail in forti- 
 tude where so much has been shown. 
 
 I have found the Duke de Laval, 3 to my great joy ; and he 
 makes himself very agreeable to us. We see him often ; his 
 
 1 Prince and Princess Gargarin. 
 
 2 Palazzo Verospi, Corso. 
 
 8 Ambassador of France to the Holy See.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 193 
 
 society is genial ; and he is a good conversationist, if only 
 because he enjoys conversation so much. The Duke de Rohan 1 
 has also been to see me. He is less savage at Rome, and has 
 promised not to be at all so to us. Nothing, assuredly, could 
 place him higher in the public esteem than the mode of life 
 which he has embraced. It suits his mind ; and, fortunately 
 for him, his manners are adapted to it. We talked much of 
 you, he with infinite interest, and I, as you may guess, with 
 even more. 
 
 ROME, Dec. 17, 1823. 
 
 How shall I describe the lively impressions which succeeded 
 one another during my first excursion in Rome, the charm- 
 ing variety of views, the interest increasing at every step ? I 
 seemed to myself to be in a new world, and with reason ; for 
 Rome comprehends within its vast boundary all which else- 
 where you must go far to seek, city and country, the noise of 
 the multitude and the most silent solitude. Yet there are no 
 abrupt transitions here. Nowhere do you find a wearisome 
 melange of objects not in harmony with one another : one 
 would say that every thing has been arranged with a view to 
 imparting the most perfect unity to the picture, and rendering 
 the study of it easiest. St. Peter's, the Vatican, and all its ap- 
 pendages, form a complete whole. Returning from the Palatine 
 Hill, the abode of the Caesars, you pass the circuses, the race- 
 courses, the hot baths which belonged to their palaces ; and 
 all the Republic is still living in the Forum, and the Coliseum, 
 which adjoins it. Not only are the objects grand and beautiful 
 in themselves, but they are beautifully and poetically arranged ; 
 all the historic epochs are in view at once, each separate and 
 distinct. Each appears to have impressed its own character 
 on its surviving monument, to have its own proper horizon, 
 and, so to speak, its peculiar atmosphere. One feels here a 
 need of living in the past, which conflicts strangely with the 
 natural impatience of man to rush into the future. He is 
 struggling with two eternities ; and the present, which still 
 he cannot escape, appears to him more than ever fugitive 
 and miserable. I beg your pardon for this little attempt at a 
 sermon or an epic. One must either say nothing about Rome, 
 or give vent to the emotions which she unceasingly excites. 
 
 1 Afterwards Cardinal and Archbishop of Besan9on. 
 13
 
 194 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 ROME, Jan. 9, 1824. 
 
 I like Rome better and better, and the kind of life I lead 
 here, which is, in some sort, that of a scholar, who has come 
 to live in the places, and with the people, he has encountered in 
 his books. Those tastes of mine which had slumbered without 
 being extinguished, have taken on a new life. I have found 
 great resources here of every description ; and, in my calmness 
 of mind and general well-being, I am reaping the natural fruit 
 of a true harmony between my thoughts and feelings, and ex- 
 ternal objects. This last test is decisive for me. I see clearly 
 to-day what my self-distrust has but allowed me to suspect 
 hitherto ; viz., that a very retired and serious life is the only 
 one which suits me perfectly. This discovery will follow me 
 to Paris, the seat of the society which allures me most, and the 
 thought of which mars all my pleasure. In fact, one can 
 scarcely propose to one's self a more magnificent holocaust 
 than that of all the seductions, sacred and profane, of the Eternal 
 City. If it were only for the charm of her climate, the sacrifice 
 would be worth something. Thus far we have had no frost, and 
 but few days when we have not revelled in cloudless sunshine. 
 Winter here no more precludes fine weather than troubles in 
 youth interfere with happiness. I constantly take delicious 
 walks in the beautiful villas at the gates of Rome, which are no 
 more like the country-houses of France or Germany than Rome 
 itself is like other capitals. All the gardens here are arranged 
 with an eye to the season when we dispense with the beauties of 
 nature in other places. Evergreens are planted everywhere ; 
 oaks, cypresses, and Italian pines (the most picturesque of all 
 trees) abound , all the walks are tapestried with orange and 
 lemon trees, which are covered with fruit without losing any of 
 their rich foliage ; while we tread a turf worthy of spring. 
 Fountains always playing, the profusion of statues, the beau- 
 tiful architectural lines, and the horizon of mountains which you 
 might believe transparent, these are beauties which one must 
 come to Rome to see, and of which it is impossible to give any 
 idea. If one could render one's self independent of those im- 
 pressions which cannot be transplanted, and which attach one 
 to the spot which gave them birth, it is surely here that one 
 would pitch his tent ; and I am not surprised that Rome should 
 have been, in all ages, the fatherland of those who had lost 
 their own ; the true Elysian Fields for the shades of departed 
 power and social distinction. 
 
 I have spoken in this letter only of my joys. I could have 
 told you also of a grief which augments with the arrival of 
 every courier. . . .
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 195 
 
 ROME, Feb. 12, 1824. 
 
 My internal life is perhaps more at Paris than at Rome. 
 When I come back, there will have been no interruption to it. 
 God grant that there may be no external change ! I have 
 never felt so keenly the need of cherishing the affections, and 
 resuming the habits, which are to be those of my life. Un- 
 happily, this need of permanence is only a personal matter, and 
 there is the germ of all uncertainty in the circumstances by 
 which I am surrounded. The most imperative considerations 
 press upon me. You will easily understand them ; and the 
 only thing, I fear, you will not understand is what this is 
 costing me. 
 
 "We have noticed the feeling of identification with 
 France, which pervades all the letters of Mme. Swetchine. 
 We find further proof of it in a letter addressed to the 
 
 Duchess de Damas : 
 
 ROME, Feb. 9, 1824. 
 
 I owe to M. Dorian, madame, one of the greatest joys which 
 could have been vouchsafed me, that of talking of you with 
 one who could understand me, and of receiving a mark of that 
 kindness so precious in my eyes, that it makes me as proud as 
 grateful. Among the tokens from France which spoil all 
 other gifts for me, yours, madame, is associated with regrets to 
 which the past itself is no stranger. Every moment by which 
 I have failed fully to profit comes up before my memory ; and, 
 if I were not already too severely punished, I should demand 
 of myself account of my time. Your indulgence for me, which 
 profanes allow me to say so expressions which, in their 
 full force, are applicable to none but yourself, can only be 
 explained by the deep reverence of which I should have liked 
 to give you better proof. I do not think, madame, that I ever 
 left your presence without saying to myself, that nothing could 
 be more useful or delightful to me than habitual contact with so 
 accomplished a person. I have shared your joy, and that of 
 your daughter, at the return of your grandson, 1 and his brilliant 
 conduct. It was the indemnification he owed you for all your 
 cares and solicitude, and surely it was a happy exchange. I 
 have been no less interested than yourselves m the succession 
 
 1 The Marquis de Vogue", who had distinguished himself in the 
 Spanish campaign.
 
 196 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 of events which have recommenced so gloriously the history of 
 ancient France ; and it is with a heart wholly hers that I 
 celebrate all her successes. Alas, madame ! I live so constantly 
 and so actively in your midst, that it almost unfits me for the 
 enjoyments offered me here. 
 
 We will return to the correspondence with Mme. de 
 Montcalm, which will give us the sequel of Mme. Swet- 
 chine's residence in Italy : 
 
 ROME, Feb. 13, 1824. 
 
 . . . If I were ten years younger, I should make light of so 
 brief an interval ; but, when the future is wasting, it concen- 
 trates itself into each moment, which is bright or colorless, 
 according as it is connected with our dominant life-interests 
 or no. 
 
 When we have renounced self in good earnest, and have 
 firmly resolved not to resume it again, I know not what sweet 
 and soothing unction mingles with all our sorrows, and imparts 
 to us that elasticity which enables us to rebound under blows 
 which would else have been crushing. I find it so inconvenient 
 to have become so utterly French at heart, that I am doing my 
 best to become thoroughly Italianized in mind. I approach 
 Rome from every side ; I review all her resources ; I go deeply 
 into her literature; I am initiated into her mysteries, and the 
 marvels of her monuments and arts ; I study her history under 
 this glorious sky, which seems to give new life to all it shines 
 upon. At every step, it is necessary to pause, to study and med- 
 itate. I have already told you, that all my fetes are held in the 
 open air, like those of the ancient Romans, and that my seclusion 
 from society is complete. In the evening, I no more stir from 
 my arm-chair than you from your couch ; and I hear unmoved 
 the recital of all the gayeties which are in progress, and which 
 will, when the carnival comes, degenerate into absolute folly. 
 A charming entertainment has just been given by the Ambas- 
 sadress of Austria ; l two French comedies were enacted, among 
 others ; and, of the eight or ten men who played in them, only 
 two were of the same nation, and not a single one was French, 
 a fact which should tend, you see, to strengthen your faith 
 in the universality of your language. Once a week, there is an 
 English tragedy played by the best London company. It 
 
 1 Countess Appony, nft Nogarola, afterwards ambassadress to Paris, 
 where she has left an enduring memory.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 197 
 
 succeeds pretty well, save for an attempt at English music, 
 fit to outrage Italian ears. Every evening, there is an opera, 
 a ball, or a crowded re-union, which always begins with the 
 cardinals, who must be invited to every entertainment which 
 is given. They hew out the block, and then go away if the 
 character of the f6te does not suit them. The Duke de Rohan, 
 whom I should like even now to see cardinal, is forced, by the 
 habits of this country, to modify his own a little, and exercises 
 his virtue in complying with custom, and conforming to the 
 world, just as he did before in withdrawing from it. He 
 enjoys here a well-earned consideration ; and, if he obtains the 
 preferment spoken of, he will meet with even more favor at 
 Koine than at Paris. The Duke de Laval is very conspicuous. 
 Mine. Recainier is not at all so, and appears sincerely to 
 prefer a life of retirement. I do not think she has aimed at 
 effect ; and it is fortunate, for her beauty and celebrity are on 
 the decline. Ruins make no great sensation in a country of 
 ruins. It would seem, that, to feel her attraction, it is neces- 
 sary to know her better ; and, after so brilliant career, 
 nothing surely could be more flattering than to count almost as 
 many friends as one formerly had adorers. Without wishing to 
 detract from her merit, I cannot help saying, that, perhaps if 
 she had once been in love herself, their number would have 
 been considerably diminished. A passion exclusive in its nature 
 wounds the vanity of aspirants even more than their sensibility. 
 
 ROME, May 16, 1824. 
 
 Paris will be of no use to a young man who has finished his 
 studies, but has not yet arrived at the age when one begins to 
 think of resuming them. Still it is in this interval that tastes 
 and habits are formed ; and it is important to occupy it in such 
 a manner that it may not prove wholly useless. Unless one 
 could travel like M. de Humboldt, I have always thought 
 travelling the most frivolous part of the lives of serious people ; 
 but it is also the most serious part of the lives of worldly 
 people. Do what they will, they always learn something by it, 
 if only, in the case of the Frenchman, the substance of the 
 verse : 
 
 "Plus je vis I'&ranger, plus j'aimai ma patrie." l 
 
 My stay at Rome has augmented my fondness for my 
 nephews, who are truly charming. The two eldest are par- 
 
 1 The more I saw of foreigners, the better I loved my country.
 
 198 LIFE OP MADAME S\VETCHINE. 
 
 ticularly dear to me ; and, in character and good conduct, they 
 are almost men, I should say, estimable men, if the word 
 were not incongruous with their cherub faces. 
 
 We are planning to leave in a few days for the north of 
 Italy, to avoid the extreme heat. We shall begin with Bologna 
 and Venice, and finish with Milan and the lakes. From every 
 part of Italy, Rome, I am sure, will always attract my longing. 
 There one lives less with his brethren than with his ancestors, 
 and this mingles a filial element with every impression. 
 
 You ask whether I was pleased with Holy Week. I admired 
 its pomp, which was, however, rendered very incomplete by 
 the absence of the Pope. 1 But the imagination so easily 
 divines and surpasses all possible magnificence, that surprise 
 added nothing to my admiration, unless in the case of the 
 music, whose solemn and religious character and astonishing 
 execution are above praise. This music makes one dream, 
 with Pythagoras, of the music of the spheres, and all the 
 marvels attributed to it in the early ages of the world. It is 
 truly the*sublime, and the sublime in angels 1 language. Pardon 
 expressions which appear hyperbolical, in consideration of the 
 rapture which you, I will answer for it, would have shared 
 with me. I have not spoken so on other occasions, which is at 
 least a proof of my sincerity. I must acknowledge, that, if I 
 were consulted, I should require more calmness and order in 
 the solemnities of religion than can co-exist with a noisy crowd 
 rushing abruptly from one chapel to another, and subordinating 
 all propriety to the demands of its eager curiosity. I could 
 wish, also, that the services called together only humble minds, 
 if not hearts, that are truly one ; but I must confess, that this 
 crowd of haughty and sneering strangers made me regret, 
 more than once, that any charm should allure them to us, espe- 
 cially at a time when one would so like to forget contradiction, 
 error, and pride. 
 
 Rome is being forsaken day by day, that is, by strangers ; 
 for the Romans themselves prefer neither watering-places, 
 travelling, nor the country. 
 
 Leo XII. had just succeeded to Pius Vll.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 199 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Excursion to Carlsbad. Return to Rome. Continuation of the Corre- 
 spondence with the Marquise de Montcalm. Letters to Mile, de 
 Virieu, the Countess de Sainte-Aulaire, the Duke de Laval, Montmo- 
 renci, and Mme. Re"camier. Extracts from her journal. 
 
 THE hot season was approaching. Mme. Swetchine was 
 suffering exceedingly from liver complaint, of which 
 she had never been entirely cured ; and the physicians 
 advised her to try the waters of Carlsbad, in Bohemia, 
 taking the north of Italy on her way. Mme. Swetchine 
 obeyed their orders, uncertain whether, after her season 
 at the Springs, she should return to Paris or to Rome. 
 Her decision was in abeyance to the motives which had 
 determined her departure. Two letters only furnish us 
 with some details of her stay at Carlsbad : 
 
 TO THE MARQUISE I>E MONTCALM. 
 
 CARLSBAD, Aug. 3, 1824. 
 
 The order which forbids my writing during ray convales- 
 cence is accompanied by such fearful threats, that, with the 
 exception of business letters, and those which I cannot safely 
 defer, my correspondence is entirely suspended, and I bargain 
 with myself for the briefest billet. But to learn that you are 
 suffering, and that you have remarked my silence, makes it 
 impossible for me to wait ; and I write to-day, as I should have 
 hastened to your house, to open my heart to you, and to tell 
 you how much it costs me not to convert into action those 
 sincere and tender sentiments of mind by which you profit so 
 little. 
 
 I found a numerous company assembled here, offering pre- 
 cious advantages to those who are disposed to avail themselves 
 of them ; but new faces alarm me in proportion to my love for 
 the old ; and my shyness, although in a measure overcome, is
 
 200 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 not yet sufficiently so for my life to be other than habitually 
 secluded. 
 
 You know already, that, after having despaired of meeting 
 Mme. Nesselrode again, I have been so happy as to have her 
 here, and to insure our mutual friendship against the sad effects 
 of protracted separation. She has often inquired for you, and 
 begged me to remember her to you. Adieu ! This letter is 
 only a certificate that I am alive ; but after leaving Carlsbad, 
 or rather Saltzburg, where I shall stop for a few days, I shall 
 most certainly resume the dear and delightful habit of writing 
 to you regularly, and, I may add, of being independent of 
 your silence. My own impetus is so strong, that I can dispense 
 with any on your part. Whenever you are good and just 
 enough to write to me, address your letters to Rome. I shall 
 not return thither much before October ; but my sister will be 
 nearer me than you, and will know better how to direct. 
 
 TO MLLE. DE VIRIEU. 1 
 
 CAKLSBAD, Aug. 31, 1824. 
 
 M. de Ferronnays is here, whom I have never met before, 
 but whom I like exceedingly. Chance was favorable to both 
 of us. I mentioned you, I know not on what occasion ; and 
 he exclaimed that he knew you, and spoke to me of you with 
 a degree of interest, penetration, and tact, with which the 
 heart had quite as much to do as the intellect. 
 
 On her return to Rome, Mme. Swetchine describes 
 minutely to Mme. de Montcalm the circumstances which 
 must prolong her residence in Italy, and then adds: 
 
 HOME, Nov. 9, 1824. 
 
 It is long since I wrote you, but this time I am not anxious 
 about your conclusions. First, because you do not suppose me 
 to be very happy ; and secondly, because of the joy it gives 
 me to be able to fix my return for the early spring, with a rea- 
 sonable prospect of accomplishing it. I have been able to set 
 aside other projects, and to make every thing bend to my con- 
 stantly increasing desire of returning to France. You will 
 agree, that to labor for this end is better worth my while than 
 writing. 
 
 1 Daughter of Count de Virieu, a distinguished deputy from the no- 
 bility of Dauphiny to the States-General, in 1789.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 201 
 
 I have seen, with sorrow, that you are suffering more than 
 ever, while no deep and heartfelt consolation has yet come to 
 your relief. You are still seeking in this miserable life what it 
 cannot give you. Before it can yield you the nourishment you 
 need, your heart must become less exacting, or your intellect 
 less keen. All our faculties, when too highly developed, be- 
 come of necessity self-involved, if they are not absorbed in the 
 Infinite. They must either rescue us from ourselves, or lay 
 waste all that is within us. 
 
 I hope to pass a part of the winter with Mme. de Nessel- 
 rode, which will be delightful. She is coming here about the 
 middle of next month ; and I count upon making the trip to 
 Naples in her company. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS DE SAINTE-AULAIRE. 
 
 ROME, Dec. 7, 1824. 
 
 I have received your letter; and it is very sweet thus to be 
 assured, from time to time, of your remembrance. In turn, I 
 can assure you of mine : but you alone deserve credit in this 
 matter ; for, outside of Paris, the absent are lost in shadow, 
 while, for those same absentees, Paris is the only point of light 
 in the whole picture. 
 
 How I regret that you were not at the head of that caravan 
 of your compatriots which has recently arrived ! M. and 
 Mme. de Montmorenci, Mme. d'Hautefort, &c., I have not 
 yet seen them ; but we are to meet at the Duke de Laval's to- 
 morrow. Mont Cenis can be crossed in all weathers. Do 
 arm yourself with a little courage, and come and surprise us. 
 With the exception of the month or six weeks which I hope to 
 give to Naples, I shall be at Rome all winter, and start for 
 Paris early in April. 
 
 We live a life of perfect independence, far surpassing, in my 
 opinion, the boasted liberty of Paris, for the very reason that 
 society offers fewer seductions ; and therefore one escapes 
 more easily one's taste for that, and for general attention. 
 Moreover, if we formed any attachments here, they must be 
 for strangers, since the people of the country extend us no 
 welcome, and we only meet them at the great parties which 
 constitute the whole of society here. Our own circle is nu- 
 merous, and varies very little. Among its members, I must 
 not forget to mention M. Blank, a Neapolitan, whom you saw 
 at Paris, and who can fully appreciate the charm of your 
 mind. He is a very witty man. I' do not always agree with 
 him ; but, beyond the circle of ideas which constitute collec-
 
 202 LIFE OF MADAME S\VETCHINE. 
 
 tively the life of the intellect, every thing can be borne but 
 mediocrity and bad faith. True eminence always compels us, 
 in one way or another, to examine and approve it. I doubt 
 whether you would find great resources here, even in individu- 
 als. That every-day life, of which you are so impatient, soon 
 resumes its rights. It is so easy to get accustomed to solemn 
 and grand effects, and one is so sure of ending by dining and 
 sleeping at Rome, that there are multitudes who do nothing 
 else. I did not know Lord Byron, but I have mourned him. 
 So, probably, have most people. Your remark struck me as 
 very just. Only a severe virtue is worthy to be associated with 
 heroic successes, as sweet voices are needed to sing the woes 
 of Zion. Did not the adoption of his daughter by the Greeks 
 remind you a little of the daughter of the nation ? Only the 
 natural order is reversed, and the parody comes first. The 
 abandonment of the Greeks must ever be an indelible stain. 
 Never did the prudence of the age so deserve to be branded. 
 The governments of Europe recoiled from an enterprise, 
 hazardous it may be, but imperatively demanded, as we re- 
 coil from needful sacrifices. Well, what is the result? God 
 snatches from us what we will not give. I should not be sur- 
 prised if war were the result of this shameful inaction : in fact, 
 I should be glad of it ; for we must desire the good of the 
 whole world. On the other hand, I want the Greeks to go on, 
 from one success to another, independent of the world. 
 
 I have been very glad of the species of truce spontaneously 
 agreed on by all parties in France. The acts of the new reign ' 
 have been calculated at once to surprise and to gratify ; but it 
 is not by acts alone, however honorable to the authorities, that 
 we can explain so lively and general an enthusiasm. The 
 charm of novelty has its share in the same. Were you not 
 pleased with the article of M. de Salvandy on St. Denis ? I 
 thought it admirable. It was all fused in his own mind before 
 he wrote it. 
 
 My sister charges me with a thousand remembrances for 
 you. She is more of a home body than ever. Her children 
 are lovely, and I am foolishly fond of them. If I am ever 
 pope, I fear I shall hardly escape the charge of nepotism. 
 
 Adieu ! Write and tell me when you will come ; and, if you 
 are not coming, write to console me for the sad delay. 
 
 At about the same date, Mme. Swetchine addressed to 
 Mile, de Virieu the affecting confession which follows : 
 
 l That of Charles X.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 203 
 
 " Since writing you, I have received the sacrament of con- 
 firmation, which is not valid as administered in the Greek 
 Church. I have taken the name of Joan, for the sake of St. 
 John the Evangelist, for whom I have always cherished a 
 peculiar and devoted affection. I hesitated some time be- 
 tween this name and that of Mary ; but I comprehended the 
 friend better than I can ever hope to comprehend the mother, 
 and the former prevailed." 
 
 In the midst of so many varying emotions, Mme. Swet- 
 chine could not forget her friend the Countess Edling. A 
 great change had taken place in the life of the latter. 
 Germany had been variously agitated during the years 
 which had witnessed the bursting of the storm of revolution 
 in Italy and Spain. Count Alexander Stourdza had been 
 insulted and threatened with death in the performance of 
 his duty as the representative of Russia ; and, from that 
 time, the Countess Edling conceived a strong desire to 
 withdraw from Weimar, and return to her own country. 
 She had no desire, however, to encounter other storms and 
 fresh political complications. Her fancy for a life of 
 meditation, of which we have already had transient glimpses 
 in the correspondence of Mme. Swetchine, developed and 
 ripened. Count Edling was not averse to it; and in 1823 
 both adopted the resolution of residing on their estates in 
 White Russia, while they chose for their winter habitation 
 the flourishing city of Odessa. The Emperor and 
 Empress, who had often heard Roxandra Stourdza in her 
 youth express her ideas on charity and Christian civiliza- 
 tion, desired that she might at least take with her to her 
 retreat the consolation and the power of carrying out 
 her designs. Ten thousand deciatines of land beyond the 
 Dniester were gratuitously ceded her by the Crown in 
 the valleys but lately overrun, though not improved, by 
 the nomad race of the Boudjac Tartars. The Count and
 
 204 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 Countess Edling cleared up this wild land, planted fir trees 
 and vines, and built villages in a desert which, until then, 
 had lacked husbandmen, cottages, and water alike. They 
 then erected for themselves a vast habitation called Mansir ; 
 and in the midst of labors over which they maintained a 
 constant supervision, and surrounded by happy beings who 
 nocked in increasing numbers to this remote spot, they 
 fixed their own residence. Thither was addressed the 
 only one of Mme. Swetchine's letters from Rome which 
 has been preserved : 
 
 ROME, Dec. 1, 1824. 
 
 MY DEAR ROXANDRA, I live, and I love you. This is what 
 I fancy you will be glad to know, and what I feel a constant 
 need of telling you. If our love had not united us once for all, 
 we could not thus set custom aside, and doubt would attack 
 us with all its disheartening power ; but I cannot help judging 
 your heart by my own, and in the depths of my being I test 
 all your emotions. How would it be with us now, dear friend, 
 if we had been drawn together simply by mutual attraction and 
 conformity of tastes ? In a matter of mere pleasure, one is 
 interested, one wants each moment to bring its share of profit 
 and delight ; but our souls have touched, and the actual hap- 
 piness of our connection would have been less enduring, if the 
 tie itself had been indissoluble. I always wear your little ring 
 upon my finger. This symbol, fragile like all symbols, will 
 never leave me. Doubtless it will survive me ; but I do not 
 envy it, for I am sure that the sentiment which makes me value 
 it so highly will survive the trinket in its turn. 
 
 Despite the small chances in my favor, I still cherish the 
 hope of seeing you again, and of sitting up with you. 'Tis so 
 pleasant a chimera, that it mingles with all my comforts, and 
 oftener still comes to fill the void where there are none. This 
 new establishment which you are planning this thoroughly 
 religious civilization which you propose to summon into the 
 deserts, where, but for you, man would not be, or would only 
 vegetate miserably allures your imagination, which is haunted 
 by dreams of virtue. I love to see you good and lofty like 
 yourself, suiting your actions to your character ; and yet, my 
 dear friend, I am impatient under the weight of the necessity 
 which detains you far from me. If you had not exchanged 
 your beautiful, green, picturesque mountains for desert plains,
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 205 
 
 I should have seen you again this year ; I might perhaps see 
 you next, and, in default oi' actual possibilities, the hope at least 
 would have been left me. I admire in you the courage which 
 undertakes. I have hardly that which perseveres. The day 
 seems to me so far spent, and the sun so surely to be tingeing 
 all iny remaining objects with his last rays, that I feel as if I 
 should scarcely have time to reach home. 
 
 You will be surprised that the date of my letter is still 
 Rome. My plan last year was certainly to return to Paris. 
 There has been nothing voluntary in my determination, or I 
 could not have enjoyed this seeming independence without 
 positive self-condemnation. It would be too long a story to 
 detail the conflicting motives which appealed to my conscience. 
 This summer 1 took a long journey for the benefit of my health. 
 I left Rome, which I love as much as one can love any place 
 which has no part in one's future, to seek a little strength in 
 the depths of Bohemia. It is folly to wish to get cured ; above 
 all things, to shrink from suffering : for every one must attend 
 to his own business, and suffering is ours. Besides, I have 
 never thought that lots were so unequally distributed in life as 
 they sometimes appear, especially if we set aside those ills 
 which are of our own creating. The most fortunate are those 
 who employ heavenly forces to preserve their balance amid i 
 earthly ones ; and it is with the deepest gratitude, my friend, 
 that I observe in myself, as the result of so many vicissitudes, 
 the strongest and most sincere desire to take thought for one 
 thing only, ameliorating the condition of others. 
 
 This Greek struggle, so noble, so heroic, which excites 
 such just and sacred hopes in you, has my warmest wishes also. 
 We are so distracted in this world, and so absorbed by selfish 
 interests, that general interests, which move the mind more 
 deeply, no longer find their proper aliment. How else can we 
 explain the fact, that all who judge for themselves have not 
 been won to awarding a constant attention to efforts, the 
 purest and most praiseworthy in principle which have ever been 
 made for a holy cause. The liberals of Europe generally repel 
 and vex me ; but the liberals of Greece, religious and political, 
 appear to me worthy of all admiration. Sad and dangerous 
 dissensions, perchance individual ambitions, sometimes mar 
 attempts as noble as this ; but where, in an imperfect world, 
 shall we look for cloudless and unshadowed brightness ? I 
 have never thought that any cause could long sustain itself here 
 below, if one had the misfortune always to see men where one 
 ought to look only for principles. The devotion of Lord Byron 
 and his premature death have doubtless touched you. It was 
 natural for a great poet to die where poesy herself is all alive ;
 
 206 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 but, as some one 1 said to me, "it would seem as if Providence 
 found his character unworthy to furnish so noble an example." 
 Adieu ! Tell me that your love for ine is unalterable. 
 
 Mme. Swetchine had pleased herself with the thought 
 of seeing Mme. de Nesselrode again that winter. The 
 latter was true to her engagement with her friend ; and 
 the two passed some weeks at Naples, of which a few 
 souvenirs have been preserved. 
 
 TO THE MARQUISE DE MONTCALM. 
 
 NAPLES, Jan. 8, 1825. 
 
 I came here a week ago, having been almost dragged away 
 by Mme. de Nesselrode, but for whom I should have held 
 Naples and all its beauties very cheap. My mind is so far 
 from free, that it requires a great effort of the will for me to 
 derive any advantage from things, always so far from supply- 
 ing the place of persons to me. You would have pitied me, if 
 you had seen my struggles, my anxiety, my distress. Placed 
 in the centre of a thousand diverse interests, it is by my ex- 
 perience that I must weigh all the conflicting elements ; and I 
 can but sympathize, with all the sensibility I possess, in sorrows 
 so prolonged and so deep, and joys which can be only fleeting. 
 How many things there are in this world which can only be 
 judged by their results ; and how many righteous and pure 
 intentions are foiled by a superior power ! All we can do is to 
 act in accordance with our light, and with that unselfishness 
 which is the logic of the heart. 
 
 Mme. Recamier had arrived at Rome, accompanied by 
 her friend M. Ballanche, and M. Charles Lenormant, who 
 was to marry her niece. The French embassy feted her, 
 and the Duke de Laval hastened to bring her and Mme. 
 Swetchine together. The latter soon modified her pre- 
 vious judgment, and yielded to the fascination of Mme. 
 Recamier's rare and sterling qualities. In the early days 
 of December, 1824, we read in a note of Mme. Swetchine's 
 to the Duke de Laval : 
 
 1 Mme. de Sainte-Aulaire. See the preceding letter.
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 207 
 
 " I will not wait till you come, to thank you for the visit which 
 I have received, and which I had intended to prevent. I found 
 your friend just what you have always described her. Your 
 portraits are more than like. They have all the expression 
 and all the grace of the original. Friendship is happy when it 
 can enable others to divine its own knowledge. 
 
 "Mme. de Nesselrode is slightly indisposed. I am going to 
 pass the evening with her ; and I wish you would be so kind as 
 to send me your little sketch of the Duchess of Devonshire, 1 
 whom she desires to know. You shall make a third with us. 
 It is the very best way of enjoying a tete-a-t6te." 
 
 From Naples, Mme. Swetchine addressed to Mme. 
 Recamier the following letter : 
 
 TO MME. RfeCAMIER. 
 
 NAPLES, Saturday. 
 
 We have been favored with the finest possible weather on 
 our journey ; no disturbances and no delays. In short, I have 
 enjoyed every thing except being away. As we got farther from 
 Rome, the sky grew brighter and the air softer ; and I regretted 
 more and more that I had prevented you from coming. Yet I 
 would do the same again. I think that a voluntary sacrifice 
 always compensates us for troubles of which we have a greater 
 dread. 
 
 I have found myself enslaved before I had dreamed of being 
 on my guard. I have yielded to the indefinable thrilling charm 
 whereby you enthral those even for whom you do not care. I 
 miss you as I should if we had spent much time together, and 
 had many common memories. How can one be so impoverished 
 by the loss of what yesterday one did not possess ? It would 
 be inexplicable were there not in some moments a little of eter- 
 nity. One would say, that, when two souls meet, they are 
 
 1 Georgiana Spencer, wife of Lord Cavendish, Duke of Devonshire, 
 was born in 1746. She was the author of several poems. Delille made a 
 metrical translation of her Passage of Mont Gothard, and addressed to 
 her a letter of dedication, in which we read, 
 
 " Je crois voir, & cote" de 1'aigle de Pindare, 
 La colombe d'Anacreon." 
 
 CEuvres Completes de Delille, vol. x. 
 
 I seem to see Pindar's eagle beside Anacreon's dove.
 
 208 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 stripped of all the conditions of this miserable existence, and, 
 in their new freedom and happiness, already obey the laws of a 
 better world. We arrived here at nightfall. A little later, the 
 moon rose above this beautiful bay. To-day I have seen the 
 sunrise ; and I leave the enchanting picture only to write to 
 you. Whatever fully satisfies our love of the beautiful awak- 
 ens with unparalleled force our craving for happiness, which is 
 as enduring as our faith in the same. One may well ask, by 
 what mystery of ingratitude it is that admiration does not suf- 
 fice us. And only suffering makes answer, that, to enjoy any 
 thing, we must have all. Perhaps you have not felt this as I feel 
 it. Sometimes the most congenial hearts respond differently to 
 the same influences. You have been very kind to me, very 
 kind in manner and in speech ; but I was peculiarly touched by 
 those glimpses of a confidence which as yet you were not quite 
 ready to award me. When you know me better, it will be only 
 an act of justice. To-day it is a favor ; and I am like a good 
 many other people, I would rather receive than deserve. 
 Already I would give all I have, and all I have not, to know that 
 you were happy. May you be so soon, independently of me ! 
 But I do most resolutely claim a share in your sorrows. This 
 letter, as you see, is merely meant as a continuation of our last 
 conversation, which left on my mind an impression at once so 
 sweet and so sad. We have too many indifferent speeches, 
 even for indifferent people. 
 
 Adieu ! Remember me to the Duke de Laval, whom I asso- 
 ciate so gratefully with my affection for you. 
 
 Italy produced on Mme. Swetchine its infallible effect 
 on high-toned minds. Her habits of industry were not 
 broken up, but stimulated, by the variety of the scenes she 
 witnessed ; and besides the hastily written pages of her 
 correspondence, where her anxieties for others occupied as 
 large a space as her own impressions, there is a volume 
 specially consecrated to the galleries and to topographical 
 and archaeological studies. Many pages in this large vol- 
 ume are devoted to an exact analysis of the course of study 
 which she industriously pursued at Rome with the cele- 
 brated Professor Visconti. But, from time to time, the 
 pupil speaks by the side of the master ; and it is from this 
 portion that we borrow a few extracts.
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINK. 209 
 
 " I pass over in silence," she says in one of the earlier pages, 
 " the wealth whose acquisition implies only time and money; 
 and come to the pictures, the memory of which never forsakes 
 those who have studied them con amore. Every picture is a 
 new idea. The impression which it makes remains with us as 
 a precious souvenir, mingling with our deepest emotions, and 
 recalling them all." 
 
 TURIN. "In the palace of the King of Sardinia, which is 
 more loaded with gilding than any other I have seen, I was, 
 as usual, not much impressed by any thing but the pictures. 
 The following struck me most : 
 
 "Two Vandykes, the one representing the children of 
 Charles I., the other Cromwell and his wife, beautiful pic- 
 tures ; but they make one regret that the same pencil should 
 have drawn Charles I. and Cromwell. 
 
 " Two pictures by Guercino, which are above praise. The 
 prodigal son on his knees before his father, imploring his mercy. 
 Guercino has so placed the prodigal, that his face is not seen ; 
 perhaps with the same thought as the artist who veiled the head 
 of Agamemnon. 
 
 " The other is the most admirable thine I ever saw for beauty 
 of attitude, grouping, and marvellous simplicity of drapery. 
 It represents Saint Frances standing and holding an open book, 
 and an angel by her side in nearer perspective." 
 
 GENOA. "Architecture should owe nothing to color, any 
 more than sculpture. Beauty of coloring, truth and nobility of 
 expression, for painting ; proportion, grace, harmony, for the 
 others. These are the perfections at which the arts must respec- 
 tively aim. Whatever destroys unity of impression may improve 
 the details, but adds nothing to the general effect. Each art has 
 its limits ; and there are few usurpations in the world punished 
 more severely than transgressions of these. 
 
 " Instead of taking the street of the Faubourg Saint Pierre 
 d'Arena, we followed the shore ; and I can never find words 
 for the emotion which seized me, when I beheld, on my left, the 
 sea in all the wondrous beauty of its vast expanse. The sun 
 was already low ; and his rays struck obliquely upon the trans- 
 parent waters, which sparkled with a thousand fires. The 
 water between the two piers was green as chrysolite, but 
 towards the horizon it was tinged with the purest blue. A li<;ht 
 breeze agitated the surface of the waves, ever varying in tlu-ir 
 motion, and yet always the same. After passing the gate of the 
 Lantern, you take in at one view Genoa the Proud; and if you 
 keep to the centre, which serves as a base to the amphitheatre 
 
 14
 
 210 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 formed by her edifices, astonishment mingles with admiration at 
 every step. Here all dreams and all magic are surpassed. 
 Here the word which has pronounced the majesty of nature 
 subordinate to man receives its full accomplishment, while yet 
 he is unceasingly recalled by the sight of the infinite to a sense 
 of his dependence. How great must he be in his own eyes, 
 when he casts them over the vast basin in which, so to speak, 
 he holds the sea captive ; upon the ships which are the monu- 
 ments of his progressive science and his indomitable courage ; 
 and on the palaces which lay so long hidden in the bosom of 
 the earth ! And, on the other hand, before the infinitude of the 
 sea and of the sky, and before the depths of his own heart, 
 how feeble and powerless must he feel himself to be ! 
 
 " I have to-day passed through the celebrated streets, Nuova 
 Nuovissima and Balbi, which are doubtless destined to mark the 
 extreme limit that luxury can attain. I was sorry that so much 
 magnificence should not have been reserved for public buildings. 
 To be sure, almost all the wealth in the world was concentrated 
 among the individuals who built these beautiful palaces ; and 
 these same individuals sustained sieges, levied armies, &c. 
 Nevertheless, such pomp, and such an employment of treasure, 
 are almost inconceivable ; albeit, we cannot be sure that we 
 should have made a better use of it. And we, with our poor 
 and narrow ideas, we who are no longer individuals but masses, 
 cannot grasp a notion which transcends our contracted customs. 
 The Roman sewers strike us as forcibly, and in much the same 
 way, as the palaces of the Genoese nobles. Sacrificing every 
 thing to the selfish interest of the moment ourselves, we ask 
 how it was possible to consume fifty years in building a palace, 
 or to continue from one generation to another the erection of 
 a public edifice. Alas ! if our plans are more reasonable and 
 prudent, it is not because we are more self-forgetful, but be- 
 cause we are afraid that we shall not soon enough reap their 
 fruits. 
 
 " Genoa makes one idle. It is so delightful to sit at the win- 
 dow, that it is not worth while to go far in search of objects of 
 interest. It is enough for the traveller to revel in the vast sea- 
 view, in the magnificent port which is, as it were, its vestibule, 
 in the forest of masts swaying with the waves beneath his eye ; 
 and he cannot tear himself away. The life and movement 
 which disport and display themselves under a thousand diverse 
 forms, the light boats gliding between the motionless ships, the 
 confused voices mingling with the dull sound of the waves, the 
 cries of the sailors softened in the distance, their picturesque 
 costumes, their expressive faces, the blue sea, the clear sky, 
 the vivid light, the breeze so fresh and yet so soft, the arch
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 211 
 
 which encloses the picture without its suffering the loss of a 
 single detail, and all this at a glance ! Here, surely, to 
 breathe is to enjoy ; to look is to be happy. Doubtless there 
 are many seaports which afford a varied and extensive view ; 
 but, setting aside the magnificence which one must seek in vain 
 elsewhere, the different levels on which the city of Genoa is 
 built seem like terraces prepared for the express purpose of 
 enabling her inhabitants to enjoy the perpetual vavfia%ia dis- 
 played before them. 
 
 ' ' When a sovereign builds a city out of his own good pleasure 
 and to serve as a suburb to his palace, it is speedily abandoned, 
 like Potsdam or Versailles. When, on the contrary, commerce, 
 facility of communication, beauty of aspect, and fertility of soil, 
 determine the site, every thing conspires to inaugurate a free 
 and spontaneous movement, which is perpetuated and protected 
 in the common interest. Revolutions, failing fortunes, change 
 of masters, all the vicissitudes, in short, which states undergo, 
 leave things very much as they were before. Genoa is no 
 longer Genoa the Proud ; but not only are her population, her 
 commerce, and her industry, still prosperous, but her beautiful 
 palaces and marvellous suburbs still echo to the old names, 
 whose representatives, in spite of the excessive reduction of their 
 patrimony, have submitted to every sacrifice rather than not 
 preserve the monuments of the wealth and luxury of their 
 ancestors." 
 
 From admiration of the palaces and the panorama at 
 Genoa, Mme. Swetchine passes to her visit to the hospital, 
 which she examined with especial regard to the care be- 
 stowed on the poor, and is gratified at the decency and 
 gravity which always attend the pauper's burial. 
 
 " The tenderest cares of charity," she says, " appear to me 
 incomplete, if they do not follow man to his last asylum. The 
 contempt shown the remains of the poor man in the French 
 hospitals has oftened saddened me. Since they grant him a 
 little earth, why should they refuse him prayers and a parting 
 benediction ? Let us not forget that He whom we adore has 
 placed the burial of Ihe dead among works of piety ; and to 
 bury means here, not to hide from the sight, but to confide 
 to the earth with religious reverence, the seed reserved for 
 a glorious resurrection ; while we hasten, by our prayers, that 
 deliverance which one day and it may be soon will bo 
 invoked for ourselves.
 
 212 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 "English comfort is the exact antipodes of luxury, as the 
 Italians conceive it. Their palaces are absorbed in vestibules, 
 staircases, and galleries. Their churches are vaster than their 
 promenades and public squares. But the heir of an illustrious 
 name, in the palace of his ancestors, is not much better lodged 
 than the advocate whom he pays, or the artisan whom he em- 
 ploys. The universal privation of all the comforts, elegances, 
 and refinements of life, puts widely differing ranks on the same 
 level ; and, under this aspect, there is perhaps less difference 
 between the rich and poor in Italy than elsewhere. All may 
 enjoy in common the beautiful horizon, the clear, soft sky, 
 where clouds are only an accident, and these rich facades and 
 churches, faithful types of the heaven which all may inherit." 
 
 FLORENCE. " Near the Duomo is the little chapel of the 
 Brethren of Mercy. This society was formed in 1244, at a 
 time when Florence was often exposed to the twofold scourge 
 of pestilence and civil war. A church-bell summons the breth- 
 ren who dwell in the city. The moment the sound is heard, 
 they leave every occupation, and repair to this point of ren- 
 dezvous. Here they are instructed in their duty ; and in case 
 any one is wounded in the streets, or a workman has a fall, or 
 any person needs to be carried to the hospital, the litters are 
 always ready. Each brother puts on the black robe of the 
 penitent, covers his face, and goes to the performance of his 
 task. Almost every day I have occasion to witness this pious 
 spectacle, when I go and sit on a bench which runs along a 
 wall parallel to the cathedral. The Brethren of Mercy are, for 
 the most part, young men from good families in Florence. 
 I learned yesterday, that Dante used to come and sit on the 
 bench I am so fond of, to enjoy the cooling breeze." 
 
 RAPHAEL. "The gallery of the Grand Duke of Tuscany 
 contains a good many Raphaels ; and here one may study the 
 great master in his widest range of manner and of subject. An 
 immense value attaches to master-pieces considered separately, 
 but variety adds to the charm of a collection ; and, though genius 
 may be more surprising in the heights it attains than in the 
 extent it embraces, it is difficult not to be confounded, when we 
 see the same man trying his hand at all subjects and all styles, 
 and creating models in all. 
 
 " Can there be a more beautiful portrait than that of the 
 Fornarina ? But it is only a portrait ; and Raphael in the per- 
 fection of his imitative, but not of his creative, power. He 
 copied with rigorous accuracy the object before his eyes, 
 without even idealizing it ; so entirely did the nature of the
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 213 
 
 sentiment which animated him hold him enchained within 
 the sphere of a purely human loveliness. The Fornarina, 
 beautiful as she is, does not cross the threshold of sense. She 
 is a woman. 
 
 " It has been remarked, that there is something of the 
 Fornarina in the head of the Madonna della Seggiola ; but, 
 though they show equal ability, what an infinite distance there 
 is between the two pictures ! They are a world apart. Thus, 
 painting, like philosophy, proceeds from the known to the un- 
 known. From the culminating point of terrestrial beauty, it 
 rises through infinite spaces to divine beauty. The two kinds 
 of beauty here represent the two orders of love. There is a 
 grace in this Madonna della Seggiola, a delicacy of feature, 
 a divinity of expression, and a harmony of coloring, which will 
 for ever defy the most skilful copyists. There is nothing else 
 approaching the sweetness of the head of the Virgin, the 
 majesty of the infant Jesus, and the unction and ardent devo- 
 tion of St. John. Every thing about these two children is 
 prophetic. The one revolves in his thought the destinies of the 
 world : the other is already consecrating his to its service. 
 
 "A little further on, this same St. John has become only 
 the child of the desert and preacher of repentance. We see 
 him standing in the midst of* wild, natural scenery. His young 
 and graceful limbs are hardened to fatigue ; his coloring is full 
 of vigor. The inclement weather he has braved has banished 
 the delicate tints of youth from his cheek ; his mouth is opened 
 to preach salvation to the world, and the emotion depicted on 
 his brow is sadness, that he should too oiten speak in vain. 
 He might be of any or all ages, by his aspect ; his expression 
 is at once nai've and serious ; he is both child and man, a man 
 in devotedness, a child in years. We feel that all human wis- 
 dom is confounded by the thoughts that are written on his 
 brow. In one hand lie holds a roll, which perhaps contains 
 the good tidings ; in the other, he lifts a cross, which is as yet 
 but a broken reed, a luminous reed, relieved against a dark 
 background. 
 
 "Portraits of Leo X., Julius II., Cardinal Bibienna, and 
 Cardinal Ingherami, all from the pencil of Raphael, may be 
 found in the Pitti Palace. Imitation can go no farther. The 
 figures stand out, and seem to be alive. 
 
 " But there is something very unlike nature in a small picture 
 near by, the amazing Vision of Ezekiel, one of the finest 
 poems that the genius of painting ever conceived. Truly, it is 
 a vision. Torrents of light dazzle the spectator. He feels as 
 if he were seized by the arms of fire that upbear the prophet. 
 It is not merely the coloring which astonishes you. There is,
 
 214 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 in the drawing of this little picture, an energy, a boldness, and 
 a richness which are incomparable. It is indeed Jehovah, the 
 true God of the Old Testament, who is revealed to Raphael, 
 more poet than painter here. It is a strophe repeated from 
 the divine songs. Elsewhere Raphael has done well, but he 
 never soared higher." 
 
 ANDREA DEL SARTO. "The chef cTceuvre of Andrea del 
 Sarto is the picture called the ' Dispute of the Four Doctors. 1 
 The beauty of the several figures, the purity of design, and the 
 effect of brilliant coloring, carry our admiration to the pitch 
 of enchantment. Andrea del Sarto is superior to himself. 
 His manner rises till it is lost in the heights where individuality 
 ceases. It is not a universal rule, that we must cease to be 
 ourselves, if we would become greater than ourselves. Are 
 not the depths of art sounded on the same conditions as the 
 depths of morality ? Are not the same devotion, the same 
 renunciation of vanity and frivolous tastes, and the same self- 
 concentration, demanded of the artist ? Must he not also come 
 out of himself, and live in his worship and in his love ? Who 
 has not felt, in approaching the sanctuary of the arts, a kind of 
 reverence and religious calm, the purity of whose principle is 
 none the less manifest because the objects offered to the con- 
 templation tend to lower or profane it? It is like strength 
 which has been consecrated to virtue, but of which passion has 
 obtained the mastery. Is not beauty in one sense eternal, like 
 truth ? and, if so, how close is the alliance between religion and 
 art ! And those proud Reformers, whose incomplete law pro- 
 claimed their divorce, how poor was their inspiration ! 
 
 " Observe, when you study the essence of art, whether the 
 faculties through which it acts upon you be not the very ones 
 which religion seizes and sways most powerfully ; and, on the 
 other hand, see if it be not on the religious masterpieces that 
 art has founded almost all its theories. What does not painting 
 owe to religion and to Christianity? What would they be 
 without her? She might have numbered Davids, Teniers, 
 Wouvermans, possibly a Titian ; but would she have had 
 a Raphael, a Michael Angelo, a Domenichino, a Guido, or a 
 Guercino ? Deprive artists of religious subjects, and what is 
 left them ? Cold history, colder allegory, battles, nature with- 
 out life, figures without expression, or the melancholy resource 
 of those violent passions so incompatible with human beauty 
 and dignity!" 
 
 ROME. "Whether the doubts cherished by many minds, 
 about the strictness of Italian monasteries, be well founded or
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 215 
 
 not, the religious Louses for women have completely escaped 
 these unfavorable prejudices. Not even calumny has been 
 able to excite against them the suspicion of grave offence. 
 I have always been struck by the urbanity, affability, and un- 
 obtrusive kindness of the Italian monks ; and I found these 
 qualities, in a yet higher degree, in the female convents. The 
 benevolence of the nuns is so affectionate, that it wins the 
 heart ; and so sincere, that it would be impossible to detect the 
 slightest trace of constraint or effort about it. The most prac- 
 tised and watchful eye cannot discover a single movement which 
 is not dictated by that charity whose secret it is to be universal, 
 without seeming to be mechanical. 
 
 "Their horizon is limited, as regards human science; but, 
 on the other hand, their few ideas tread over and over again 
 the way marked out for love by divine revelation ; and, with 
 piety for their teacher, they have nothing to regret. They 
 ascend and descend and re-ascend, without ceasing, the steps of 
 that miraculous ladder which enchanted the prophet's vision. 
 They sit at the Samaritan's well, climb the heights of Calvary, 
 repose upon Tabor, bathe like Mary Magdalene the Saviour's 
 feet with tears and perfumes, or adore his cross. They have 
 no cares for the earthly morrow, no fears for the terrible mor- 
 row of eternity. The same hours bring the same labors, and 
 are associated with the same thoughts. They know that they 
 have chosen the good part, and that they possess the pearl 
 of great price. No doubt or anxiety disturbs them. The 
 type of their faith is as simple as the type of the virtues they 
 practise, ' humble plants,' as saith St. Francis de Sales, 
 who have grown up in the shadow of the cross.' 
 
 "And the future ! that cannot mar their joy and their settled 
 peace ; for they have no past, and, consequently, no memories 
 nor objects of comparison. The light of the world has become 
 a feeble twilight before it reaches them ; and any divergence 
 from their ideas is regarded as a misfortune and a danger. 
 How hard it is for them to admit gradations in religion ! In- 
 complete truth is as much falsehood for them as the grossest 
 error ; and they can hardly appreciate any thing beyond the 
 alternative of being in the world or out of it. Of course, this 
 rigidity and these set colors are unfavorable to the breadth and 
 flexibility of the intellect ; but, on the other hand, is not virtue 
 thus preserved in all its integrity, and is there not always a 
 little danger in understanding perfectly what we are to combat ? 
 The Italian woman, raised and ripened in the shade of the 
 cloister, may have a small share in the noble freedom of hu- 
 manity ; but of that share she is secure, and her place is 
 midway between militant virtue and the inviolable bliss of the 
 angels.
 
 216 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 " One of the proofs of the truth of Catholicism is its 
 response to the heart's exclusiveness. Other communions think 
 to simplify religion, and render it more accessible and more 
 attractive, by extending to all alike the promises of its divine 
 Author ; but this is a strange misconception of our real needs. 
 The more positive, exclusive, austere, and exacting a rule is, 
 the more attraction it has for us, by virtue of that vague 
 instinct which makes us feel that our mobility needs to be 
 arrested, our weakness strengthened, our thoughts recalled 
 and set in order. No one will be passionately attached to any 
 religion, who believes that others are just as good ; and a jealous 
 God knew this well. When a thing has ceased to be, 1 will 
 not say the best, but the only perfect, good, what call is there 
 for choice or preference ? Why should we concentrate, rather 
 than divide, our homage and our love? The esprit du corps 
 has always seized upon this concentrative force to accomplish 
 great things. It has always tightened its bonds within, when 
 it would increase the power of its action without. Language 
 itself bears witness to the fact. Thus, inside the universal 
 and all-embracing religion, there is, in the phrase of the differ- 
 ent monastic orders, the religion of St. Dominic or St. 
 Francis or St. Theresa, in short, the religion which, in the 
 mouth of the religieux, often means only the rule of his order, 
 which constitutes, in his individual eyes, the abridged type of 
 truth and perfection here below." 
 
 " THE REGINA CCELI, A CARMELITE CONVENT IN THE LUN- 
 OARA. This is the first convent I have seen in Rome ; and I 
 was very glad to begin with the Carmelites, as a piece of just 
 and spontaneous homage to their founder, St. Theresa. One 
 is so struck at Rome by the vanity of all human greatness, that 
 one is better prepared than elsewhere for the sacrifices of 
 Christian sell-devotion. One becomes familiar with what are 
 called extraordinary courses, which are yet, to the eyes of 
 faith, such simple and necessary courses. The saints, who 
 elsewhere are little more than types, fantastic beings whose 
 idealized virtues are merged in inimitable and unapproachable 
 perfection, become at Rome, what they really are and always 
 have been, the true ancestors of the faithful, their predeces- 
 sors, beings like themselves, their guardians and models only. 
 When you issue from the catacombs, you have a new apprecia- 
 tion of that tyrannous necessity which induced rare souls to 
 conceal their devotion in life, as the martyrs did theirs in death ; 
 and you go from one sacrifice to another, and acknowledge that 
 he who burns his holocaust slowly is not the less meritorious. 
 
 Before I visited this Convent of the Lungara, my mind had
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 217 
 
 dwelt only on the sacred authoritativeness of its rule, and the 
 strictness which extends to the most minute details, and seems 
 calculated everywhere to substitute grace for nature. I be- 
 lieved that I should find its inhabitants happy ; for where is 
 the heart that God has touched, which does not own a pious 
 felicity, even in the midst of Buffering P But I imagined them 
 saddened, as one is, by the solemn thoughts and deep emotions 
 which subdue the poor human heart. What, then, was my 
 surprise, when I found myself surrounded by bright faces, 
 indelibly stamped with that assurance which constitutes the joy 
 of virtue ! The first compliments were hardly passed and 
 returned before ease and cordiality had replaced the slight 
 embarrassment which always attends the meeting of strangers ; 
 and soon a frank, childlike, playful pleasure was expressed by 
 the holy sisters, and communicated itself to us, who, alas ! 
 bore in their midst souls less pure, and hearts less content, than 
 their own. We remained together about three hours ; and I 
 brought away from Regina Coeli the conviction, that, next after 
 the merit of desiring the only thing that cannot be bought too 
 dearly, the best thing is to know exactly what we do desire. 
 
 " The aspect of these religious retreats leads one to draw a 
 singular comparison between their material arrangements and 
 the ideas of the ancients. Strange as it may seem to be re- 
 minded of the old Itomans by these poor nuns, it is certain 
 that their habitations are arranged upon the plan of antique 
 institutions. Thus, with the ancients, the individual was com- 
 pletely absorbed and sacrificed to society. All which was 
 calculated for private use was small, contracted, poor, and 
 shabby ; while luxury and magnificence were displayed in all 
 public monuments. So the house of the wealthiest citizen 
 was entirely out of proportion with the surrounding edifices ; 
 and, even in this contracted dwelling, he occupied only a dark, 
 close, crowded nook, that more space might be afforded for 
 the atrium and triclinium. The social instinct with them was 
 paramount to the desire for personal well-being. All was 
 done for all, and nothing for one only. The temple of the 
 gods, the basilica, the portico, the triumphal arch, flattered 
 the love of national glory ; and they cared for nothing else. 
 There was something grand in all this, which Christianity came 
 to reclaim and consecrate, along with whatever else of truth 
 and virtue she found upon the earth, and to reproduce it 
 upon a loftier and more perfect scale. Thus, in the life of 
 the cloister, which is the flower of perfect Christianity, all the 
 straits of evangelical poverty are for the nun, and all the 
 luxury for the community : for the rcligieuse, the coarse gar- 
 ment, the meagre fare, the hard bed, a cell hardly larger than
 
 218 LIFK OP MADAME SKETCHING. 
 
 the spot her tomb will occupy ; for the community, vast and 
 airy spaces, refectories, cloisters, gardens, infirmaries, and, 
 above all, the splendors of the Lord's temple. . . . 
 
 "But what surpasses all the marvels bequeathed us by the 
 past, and all which the imagination can restore, is the incom- 
 parable view from the terrace of the Villa Spada. The rich- 
 ness of its details makes the view an extensive one, as the 
 memorable events it recalls put ages in the place of days. On 
 the left, you distinguish the portico of the Convent of St. John 
 and St. Paul ; the garden of the monks who bear the name and 
 the signs of the Passion ; the Villa Mattel, St. Sylvester, 
 and the Baths of Caracalla, which bound the view on this side ; 
 St. Balbina, with its high tower ; the Claudian Aqueduct ; St. 
 Sabas, with its numerous arcades. In front, you have the arch 
 of the imperial theatre, the Circus Maximus, and, beyond, the 
 Aventine and its edifices. At the right, the Arch of Janus, 
 the Temple of Vesta, the Tiber, and the Janiculum ; the little 
 pine-grove between the Villas Lanti and Corsini ; the majestic 
 facade of the Aqua Paolina ; and, finally, the dome of St. 
 Peter's, which towers above all these glorious realizations of 
 human thought, like a great king ruling over a great people." 
 
 "SEA VIEW, BY VERNET. DAYBREAK. Waves of vapor 
 inundate, and at the same time illumine, this picture. The sky, 
 the air, the water, all have that magical transparency which 
 those who have not been in Italy cannot allow even to nature." 
 
 "THE DEATH OF GERMANICUS, BY Poussur. The coloring 
 of this picture is not flattering : the flesh-tints, for the most 
 part, are carried up to black ; but the composition is so fine, 
 the arrangement so simple, and at the same time so imposing, 
 that these merits suffice to award to this painting a prominent 
 place among pictures of the second class. It is one of those 
 whose principal beauties are least spoiled by engraving." 
 
 " A VIEW OF CASTLE GANDOLFO, BY CLAUDE LORRAINE. 
 This little picture is enchanting. The lake, the sky reflected 
 in it, the trees which shadow it, the sweet mist in the air, the 
 vibration of the light, in short, it is Claude and nature." 
 
 "TnE CEXCI. A lovely head, by Guido. This unhappy 
 girl has only the excess of her wretchedness to offset against 
 her crime. There is nothing consuming, nothing active even, 
 in the grief which her features express. Her profound sadness 
 seems to say, that she cares as little for the eve as for the mor- 
 row, and that destiny's only favor to her had been the scaffold 
 which is now preparing. The Ceiici is an enchantress of
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 219 
 
 beauty, youth, and melancholy. Those sweet eyes have wept 
 so much ! That brow must have flushed so deeply ! " 
 
 " A MAGDALENE, BY AUGUSTLN CARACCI, which they say is 
 a very beautiful thing ; but which I do not like much better 
 than the Magdalene of Tintoret at the Capitol, which I detest." 
 
 " A HOLY VIRGIN, WITH THE CHILD JESUS, BY TITIAN. I 
 do not know how Titian dared to paint the mother of Christ. 
 All his genius rebelled against it. I wish to read the life of 
 Titian. It will probably confirm me in my idea, that no person 
 is so utterly a stranger to the inspiration and light of Chris- 
 tianity as he who, born in its bosom, has rejected its spirit and 
 its love." 
 
 " A DESCENT FROM THE CROSS, BY RAPHAEL. This picture 
 is in the second manner of this immortal man ; and I, for my 
 part, see in it the apogee of his glory. The picture was painted 
 at Perugia, and it was this chef-d'oeuvre which raised the fame 
 of Raphael to such a pitch, that he was summoned to Rome. 
 This beautiful composition is a perfect poem. Nicodemus 
 supports the lifeless head and arms of the Saviour, and a 
 young man lifts his feet. St. John, with his head bowed in all the 
 abandonment of grief, fixes his eyes on his adorable Master. 
 A woman holds one of his hands in hers, expressing at once 
 the most poignant sorrow and the most sacred love. His 
 mother, pierced by the divine sword, has fainted in the arms 
 of some young women. Words cannot express the beauty, 
 the purity, the richness, and the artlessness of this marvellous 
 picture. Its variety equally transcends praise. There are no 
 two heads alike ; none, where the expression of the common 
 sentiment is not varied. Here we nave united all mental 
 anguish and all physical beauty, and a splendor of imagination 
 so discreetly employed, as to combine the glorious prodigality 
 of youth with the thoughtful sobriety of ripe age. No : 
 Raphael could not do better nor rise higher. Those of his 
 masterpieces which are most resplendent with majesty and 
 genius have nothing to compare, in my eyes, with the perfume 
 of spirituality which exhaled, perhaps for the last time, from the 
 descent from the Cross." 
 
 "Two LANDSCAPES, BY CLAUDE LORRAINE, IN HIS FIRST 
 MANNER. No part of these two pictures corresponds with the 
 unrivalled glory of Claude Lorraine ; and yet they are youthful 
 attempts which he would not disown in all the might and magic 
 of his genius. These waters, this sky, these trees, are not the 
 inimitable Claude ; but Galatea was not herself the moment 
 before she received the divine breath."
 
 220 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 " THE ECCE HOMO OF GUERCINO. In this picture, the God- 
 man has, as it were, anticipated his own glory. He reigns 
 already by the sublimity of his expressive and majestic beauty. 
 The excess of sacred sorrow has penetrated all his flesh ; it is 
 like an internal fire, which colors, while it consumes, his trans- 
 parent cheeks. His eyes are raised to heaven ; and in that 
 look what power of prayer, of will, of yearning, and of pity ! 
 All human plagues and sins are present in an incomprehensible 
 unity to the Saviour's thought. They rend his heart ; but we 
 feel that he has not a moan for himself. Ah ! He whom earth 
 saw but for a moment, that she might adore and mourn him 
 for ever, is here before us, in this lofty and evident union of 
 two natures, whereof the invisible is the one that appeals most 
 powerfully to the intellect and the heart." 
 
 "A FINE PORTRAIT OF PHILIP II., BY TITIAN. The pose 
 is stiff, more supercilious than proud ; and there is something 
 narrow and sour in the face, which, nevertheless, tries to 
 smile." 
 
 "THE FORNARINA, COPIED FROM RAPHAEL BY JULES Ro- 
 
 MAIN. What an immense distance between this copy and the 
 original ! It is like that commonplace translation of the Iliad, 
 of which somebody has said that it rained down." 
 y 
 
 "HOLY FAMILY, BY CARLO MARATTI. The artist has taken 
 too much pleasure in feeding the divine child on the ambrosia 
 which Olympus lavished upon its infant gods. These blooming 
 and voluptuous shapes are not in harmony with the Christ for 
 whom wormwood was mingled with his mother's milk, and the 
 bread of affliction with a diet always meagre and severe. The 
 Holy Virgin has also, in her beauty, something which is rather 
 attractive than chaste and regular. We feel that the care- 
 lessness of drawing, in the works of this master, sometimes 
 borders on a deterioration of ideas. When the latter have lost 
 their original purity and severity, something effeminate, which 
 may be taken for an excess of tenderness, begins to detract 
 from the dignity of the subject, and even from that of the art. 
 To please becomes then the highest aim of the artist ; and, little 
 by little, he descends to the level of the public, which has de- 
 scended before him." 
 
 "VENICE. The glory has departed from this land, where its 
 traces still linger. There is nothing to unite the present with 
 the past ; and the Cathedral in the midst of Venice produces 
 somewhat the effect of the Egyptian obelisks at Rome. It is a 
 monument which retraces the annals of another race, and tells
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 221 
 
 a story which the present generation either know no longer, or 
 know too well." 
 
 " RIMINI. Who would forget, among the souvenirs of 
 Rimini, the most poetic of them all ? Of all the treasures which 
 Rimini has amassed for us, the most precious legacy is 
 Dante." 
 
 "BRESCIA. THE ADULTERESS, A BEAUTIFUL PICTURE BY 
 TITIAN. The figure of Christ is full of majesty. It expresses, 
 in the highest degree, divine and uncreated wisdom, so superior 
 to human wisdom, and yet so perfectly in harmony therewith. 
 The woman is surpassingly beautiful, and in her coloring Titian 
 seems to have excelled himself. Her countenance is modest, 
 but expresses neither confusion nor penitence ; it is the judges 
 who have dragged her into the Saviour's presence, not the cry 
 of her own conscience. By the expression of his face, one feels 
 that the noble words of pardon have not yet been pronounced, 
 and that the miracle of conversion awaits the miracle of mercy. 
 
 " All the great names of architecture meet us at Brescia. In 
 the midst of her numerous palaces, we distinguish a building by 
 PaHadio, whose facade is noble and simple ; and also a charming 
 house, by the same PaHadio, a house with three windows as 
 delicious as Rousseau's romance in three notes." 
 
 " PAVIA. If the eyes of the Carthusian were not turned in- 
 ward, what a difference there would be between the lot of the 
 Carthusian of Pavia and that of the Carthusian of Naples. 
 How unlike are these horizons ! Nature has refused every thing 
 to the Carthusian Convent at Pavia, and has spread out be- 
 neath the one at Naples her utmost grandeur and loveliness. 
 He who has watched the moon (and the moon of Naples !) from 
 that lofty and well-chosen site, reflected in the bay or strik- 
 ing the rock of Capri, which seems to interpose itself between 
 us and the vast sea, like those slight obstacles which arrest us 
 on our way to the infinite ; he who has caught the sun's rays 
 falling on that arid Vesuvius, whose aspect at least does not 
 belie, though it conceals, the menace of destruction and death, 
 he, I say, has but one step more to take to rise above all cre- 
 ated things, and pass from their glory to that of the Infinite." 
 
 The reasons which had induced Mme. Swetchine's with- 
 drawal from France no longer existed. General Swetchine 
 quitted Italy, while Mme. Swetchine was visiting Naples 
 with the Countess de Nesselrode. They met again at 
 Paris in the spring of 1825.
 
 222 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Permanent establishment of Mme. Swetchine in Paris. Death of the 
 Emperor Alexander, and accession of the Emperor Nicholas. Salon 
 of Mme. Swetchine. Mme. de Nesselrode's residence near her. 
 Death of the Duchess de Duras. 
 
 ON her return to Paris, Mrae. Swetchine established 
 herself permanently. Until then, she had lodged in 
 the Rue de Varennes, in the neighborhood of the Duchess 
 de Duras. She now took, on a long lease, a house in the 
 Rue Saint Dominique, a suite of rooms where she could 
 enjoy, in the heart of one of the most brilliant quarters of 
 Paris, the sunshiny quiet of the country. Situated at the 
 foot of a court, the Hotel No. 71 was occupied only by 
 herself and the proprietors, who testified a regard for her 
 which has been transmitted through thirty years, and to 
 two generations. The garden of the hotel was not large ; 
 but it adjoined other gardens, and the views from the first 
 story, which was occupied by Mme. Swetchine, embraced 
 a long stretch of lawn, flowers, and beautiful trees. 
 
 She sent to Russia for some of the pictures, bronzes, and 
 porcelains which her father's care had amassed, and which 
 had interested her childish gaze. "With these she adorned, 
 though not profusely, a drawing-room and a second apart- 
 ment, which she had transformed from a bedroom into a 
 library. Her bed, which was only a little iron couch, was 
 removed to a back cabinet, and brought every day into the 
 library, or into the drawing-room, for her brief intervals of 
 sleep. The rooms occupied by General Swetchine were
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 223 
 
 up-stairs, and every thing was so arranged as to insure the 
 complete freedom of his habits. 
 
 The return of Mme. Swetchine was saddened by the 
 death of the Emperor Alexander, to whose memory she 
 had always remained faithfully attached. The long distance 
 which separated her from her native land had never 
 impaired either her affection or her penetration. The 
 Emperor Alexander expired on the 19th of November 
 (1st of December), 1825, at Taganrog, an obscure little 
 town on the confines of Russia. His last days were in- 
 volved in mysterious conspiracies, his life threatened 
 with imminent outrage, and they succeeded in screening 
 from his dying eyes the dangers which threatened his 
 successor, dangers which blazed out on the advent of 
 Nicholas, and which were only to be mastered by heroic 
 firmness. 
 
 On the 23d of April, 1826, Mme. Swetchine wrote to 
 the Countess Edling: 
 
 " To tell you what I have suffered on account of our poor 
 country since the late cruel events, would be impossible. 
 I have lived more in Russia during the last four months than 
 in the thirty-three years I passed there. Her misfortunes and 
 her dangers have been my one absorbing thought. What a 
 terrible way in which to have one's patriotism fully awakened ! 
 That black plot, those crimes projected in darkness, and, 
 as it were, in cold blood, fill me with unutterable horror. 
 What novices in this frightful career ! They began where the 
 greatest villains have ended. Our young sovereign and his 
 noble conduct are my only consolation. The touching traits 
 which are ascribed to him acquire a new value when we re- 
 member his courage, which was calm to the verge of impassi- 
 bility. But how much he will have to do, and how needful 
 it is that he should go to work at the foundation ! To direct 
 the present generation, it is necessary to curb it ; a poor and 
 inadequate method. It is by education that he must make 
 himself master of the rising generation ; and he must look 
 for solid results only as the fruits of a wise and slow culture.
 
 224 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 The most unhappy circumstance is, that the national elements 
 are lacking. Most of those men who are more enlightened 
 than the rest, have drunk from poisoned sources. The longer 
 I live, the more firmly I believe that strength lies in doctrines, 
 and not in men." 
 
 Mme. Swetchine proceeded to address, in the name of 
 France, this touching appeal to her friend, who was then 
 in the full tide of creation at Mansir : 
 
 "Nothing can be more practical certainly than your vines 
 and your sheep, nothing more rational or more convenient than 
 the money they will bring you ; but please do not become too 
 much absorbed, either in the idyl or in the purse. Think that 
 your friend is pining for you, and that our days are short as well 
 as evil. Make haste, my dear, good friend! Does not every 
 thing hasten within and around you ? I promise you all that 
 you can desire. We will pass our lives together. We will 
 enjoy the same things. My friends are yours already, and they 
 think you are delaying too long." 
 
 The salon to which the Countess Edling was summoned 
 with such tender eloquence was in reality numbered 
 among the most attractive centres of Parisian society, at 
 a time when Paris could still boast of many delightful and 
 distinguished circles. This salon was neither a narrow 
 guest-chamber, nor a literary coterie, nor a school. Mme. 
 Swetchine would have been indignant, if the word "disciple" 
 had been uttered in her hearing. She was as averse to 
 ruling as to serving. It was the incomparable superiority 
 and the unvarying sweetness of her presence alone which 
 created the impalpable tie that bound so many hearts to 
 her ; and in the end established a kind of community 
 among them, whereof she was the soul, and not the teacher. 
 With no other motive than her love of all moral elevation, 
 and as free from envy as from ambition, she excelled in 
 accommodating herself to the most diverse characters and
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 225 
 
 the most dissimilar minds ; in making prominent the good 
 in some, and excusing the weakness of others. Souls, 
 which else would never have met, assembled instinctively 
 under the shadow of that inexhaustible charity, where 
 each in turn found sympathy, aid, and strength. What 
 eminently distinguished Mme. Swetchine was, that her 
 qualities, her virtues, and her powers were so distributed, 
 that the result was a perfect equilibrium. She was 
 sensible and enthusiastic in about the same degree, because 
 it was her rare privilege to have been endowed with as 
 much reason as imagination ; because she thought as 
 deeply as she felt ; because, though often a man in intellect, 
 she always remained a woman in heart ; and, finally, be- 
 cause her self-abnegation was neither feigned nor studied. 
 She lived first in the life of others, then in public events, 
 and thought of herself only after she had taken thought 
 for every one else. She disliked egotism, without ever 
 needing to repress it in herself, so fully had she experi- 
 enced the richness and sweetness of the contrary senti- 
 ment. Her soul referred all to God, without ignoring a 
 single human interest. Her mind was constantly growing 
 in knowledge ; but she loved science for science' sake, 
 without making the slightest pretension on her own 
 account, and without seeking aught beyond the delights of 
 discovery and of thought in which she revelled. She was 
 free from prejudice, alike in her religious and political 
 opinions. She was no less so in matters of art and litera- 
 ture. We have just seen how fully she appreciated Italy. 
 Her taste was classical, but classical in the widest sense ; 
 not confined to the cold literary propriety which began 
 with Boileau and Pope, and ended with the official litera- 
 ture of the empire, and had nothing in common with the 
 mighty qualities of Homer and Virgil, Sophocles an<J 
 
 15
 
 226 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 Corneille. She was as keenly alive to the bold and mas- 
 culine beauties of Shakespeare and of Dante as to the 
 exquisite finish of the seventeenth-century writers. She 
 admired Goethe and Schiller, no less as revealers of the 
 deep sorrows of their country and their time, than for 
 their poetic genius. Then, like all persons of sound and 
 clear judgment, she thought much of composition and 
 form. The vague terrified her ; it disturbed her like 
 indecision of character and mind. She dreaded to discover 
 in it the absence of that moral rectitude, which, above all 
 things else, was dear to her. Feeling, moreover, the 
 necessity of reserve and caution in one's judgments, she 
 willingly allowed the tide of fashion and infatuation to 
 sweep past her ; and was chary alike of her praise and her 
 blame in regard to contemporary reputations. She was 
 never ultra, either in her admiration or her criticism. She 
 considered that the embellishments of life and the pastimes 
 of the mind possess a legitimate charm, and furnish a 
 species of relaxation, which, when partaken in moderation, 
 unbends and tempers the powers. She did not look upon 
 poetry and art as fit masters of the heart, the thought, or 
 the speech, but as the servants of God, when worthy so 
 to be, and instruments of his secondary designs upon the 
 earth. 
 
 She took a keen interest, and expressed herself strongly, 
 in matters of philosophy, history, and politics, although she 
 generally shunned those subjects under their abstract and 
 scholastic forms. There has not been an important work 
 published for fifty years in any of the principal European 
 languages, of which she has not made a careful estimate in 
 writing ; yet it very seldom happened, that she made use 
 in conversation of pedantic technicalities, or terms borrowed 
 from a foreign idiom. As a Christian, she was perfectly
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 227 
 
 entitled to a philosophy which was summed up in Christi- 
 anity, and always conducted to it. For saints, and candi- 
 dates for saintship, it was an ascetic philosophy ; for the 
 mass of society, a living and practical philosophy, the con- 
 ducting wire between history and morality and active life ; 
 for the heads of nations, it was a rule of duty, and a stand- 
 ing treaty for mutual education between different social 
 ranks. She never pretended that theology restricted the 
 Christian to the natural science of the days of Thomas 
 Aquinas, or any such era. She thought, on the contrary, 
 as Leibnitz had proclaimed, and as the Church had never 
 denied, that it was important to introduce largely into the 
 sphere of Christianity all such acquisitions of the ages as 
 were compatible with its teachings. She appreciated 
 every effort of human genius, without believing that it 
 could dispense with Christian doctrine. She did not be- 
 lieve in the possibility of studying man in himself, infer- 
 ring the Creator from the creature, and arriving at what 
 has been called natural religion, and, more recently, natural- 
 ism, independently of a living and personal God. She did 
 not admit, that, without God, all the celestial mechanics of 
 a Laplace or a Lalande could issue in a perfect under- 
 standing of the principles on which the system of the 
 universe rests. But no discovery, improvement, or pro- 
 gressive movement ever found her indifferent at its outset ; 
 still less, hostile. 
 
 In politics, she was firmly and profoundly monarchical, 
 but strongly on her guard against any tendency towards 
 absolute power. She beheld in monarchy a system sup 
 ported upon principles the most favorable to a people's 
 development, as well as most conformable to the order 
 established by God in the constitution of the family and 
 the hierarchy of the Church. She saw in it a state in
 
 228 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 which equity prevails over force, and in which neither 
 equity nor moderation are transient accidents, but strict 
 obligations and indefeasible duties. She did not believe in 
 the divine right of kings, in the absolute sense of the word. 
 She saw and heard the warnings of history from the time 
 of the beginnings of empire ; but she adhered with un- 
 swerving confidence to the chief grounds of authority. 
 She recognized its two essential conditions of power and 
 fruitfulness, first, a national and popular root, a com- 
 plete identification between people and sovereign, the 
 people's autonomy being shadowed forth and represented 
 in the person of the sovereign, without the sovereign's 
 having the right to absorb or confiscate it to his own 
 advantage ; and, secondly, the consecration of the ages, the 
 prolonged intertwining of a people's destiny with the 
 destiny of a royal family, in whom the people respected 
 and glorified itself, giving to its obedience the dignity of a 
 high motive, and saluting in its prince an undisputed chief, 
 but not a master. Outside these limits, which were never 
 overstepped, Mme. Swetchine held in aversion every 
 thing arbitrary, violent, or hypocritical : she considered it 
 an offence against human conscience, moral life, and the 
 lasting prosperity of nations. 
 
 Resting upon these great principles, she contemplated 
 events and men with serenity. She did not lightly espouse 
 the cause of the victor; but she refused to throw herself into 
 a fever of excitement at the bidding of any one of the van- 
 quished. She did not enjoy herself, nor did she approve 
 in others, one-sided laudings or denunciations. It was im- 
 possible for her to adopt an argument or a cause, because 
 it personified a conventional or private interest. She saw 
 and loved the fugitives of all our successive regimes, 
 aristocratic, bourgeoise, and even republican. But, however
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 229 
 
 distinguished they might be for intellect, talent, or good- 
 ness, she held them all slightly in suspicion, until she had 
 fairly estimated the social state which had been born or 
 developed in their absence. Before all and above all, her 
 desire was to examine, to weigh, to test : she employed all 
 her energies, and she excelled in separating motives from 
 deeds. She dreaded lest her opinion, which always re- 
 quired the seal of conscience, should be engulfed in the 
 whirlpool of hasty judgments. She strove to penetrate 
 into the true spirit of her time, its actual movements and 
 tendencies ; and, even when she held a decided opinion, she 
 sought intercourse with those who defended the opposite 
 view. " Of what use would it be to live," she used to say, 
 " if one heard only one's own voice ? " 
 
 More than once her friends murmured against this 
 toleration, and would fain have compelled her to opinions 
 or indignations more conformable to their own : she would 
 then desist, smilingly or sadly according to the importance 
 of the conflict, or the affection she bore the combatants ; 
 but she never allowed herself to be influenced. Some- 
 times, to be sure, she had to endure sharp reproaches or 
 protracted sulking from those who were unable to enter 
 into the clearness of her views or the charity of her 
 sentiments, or to comprehend how far in some cases equity 
 transcends vulgar justice. Justice follows the letter, 
 applies the law, and is in danger of becoming pharisaical. 
 Equity, more free, more magnanimous, and more essen- 
 tially Christian, constituted, in Mme. Swetchine's eyes, the 
 best policy of great minds. 
 
 These petty resentments faded away before her calm- 
 ness, and especially before her affection, which always 
 remained unalterable ; and, in the end, it came to pass, that 
 her friends let her impose on them a relative and tempo-
 
 230 LIFE OF MAJ>AME SWETCHINE. 
 
 rary impartiality. Her salon came by degrees to be neutral 
 ground in the midst of Paris, not neutral in sentiments and 
 ideas, but neutral in respect of passion, exclusive absorption, 
 and violence. One reproach only had power at times to 
 touch and wound her : it was when people said, " You 
 cannot feel this or that as we do : you are a foreigner." 
 She would then repeat the ungrateful word in strict con- 
 fidence, without complaining or telling the speaker's name, 
 but with tears in her eyes. 
 
 It was not enthusiasm which people sought at Mme. 
 Swetchine's, although she was so rich in it. Enthusiasm 
 is God's gift. If we have not its germ within, it cannot be 
 communicated. But she excelled in inciting to reflection, 
 rectitude, sagacity, and patience; and what she said bore 
 the impress of an incomparable unction of the heart. She 
 rarely gave what is called advice, an absolute solution of a 
 given problem : her humility made her shrink from direct 
 responsibilities ; in no case did she take the initiative, 
 and rather shunned than provoked confidence. " God 
 only gives us grace to answer," she used sometimes to 
 say. But, if you opened your heart to her, she extended 
 you her hand, and never drew it back again. She did not 
 lecture you. She did not set herself up as a model or 
 guide. She did not say, " Walk thus," but sweetly, " Let us 
 walk together ; " and so, without making the slightest pre- 
 tensions, she often guided those she seemed to follow. 
 
 Under the influence of that gentle will, whose rectitude 
 and charity made it all powerful, one could not deviate 
 long: it became necessary either to withdraw from her 
 entirely, or to yield to the ascendency which she exercised, 
 an ascendency unrealized in most cases without violence, 
 without flagrant contradiction, without collision or vehe- 
 mence of language. If each one of us could descend into
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 231 
 
 himself, and take note of the alien influences which have 
 been at work in the formation of his thoughts, and the 
 origin of his resolutions ; if, without wounding our own 
 vanity, we could arrive at a clear understanding of the 
 extent of the modification which has taken place in our 
 souls, how many of our contemporaries would find in 
 themselves, their characters, and the principal acts of their 
 lives, traces of their intercourse with Mme. Swetchine ! 
 
 And when we come to scrutinize the method of action, 
 by the aid of which she exercised, and extended into the 
 most diverse spheres, that influence which was ever on 
 the increase during thirty years of an epoch prone to 
 shake off every influence, we are amazed to discover that 
 it consisted, first of all, in rejecting any methods, simple or 
 complex. Even in her conversation, Mme. Swetchine 
 never aimed at effect. Her timidity was never overcome. 
 Her first remarks were generally uncertain, and even 
 obscure. She needed to be carried out of herself by the 
 emotion of the interview and the interest of the subject. 
 No novelty of diction, no attempt at paradox, no being 
 carried away by eloquence, but truth in all things, truth 
 in style as well as in thought, without excess of ornament, 
 though never bare. Her very absence of all pretension 
 constituted her first claim to originality. Aside from the 
 moments when nature overflows, and the most humble need 
 to give vent to their emotions, moments of abandon 
 which she could always control and limit, she was never 
 brilliant, she did not astonish. You loved her and 
 admired her instinctively, long before it was possible to 
 give any account of what it was in her that charmed and 
 subjugated. 
 
 Mme. Swetchine's household was very carefully or- 
 dered, though without affected refinements of any sort.
 
 232 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 She never invited her friends to a set soiree or dinner; 
 but she delighted to assemble about a small, round table, 
 a few persons, who were glad to meet one another in her 
 presence. Her repast was then served with elegance, and 
 she presided over it with the thoughtful attention which 
 she bestowed even on little things. Her drawing-room, 
 open morning and evening, was almost always adorned 
 with some flowering plant, or some object of art, loaned 
 her by a friend, and which an artist considered it a great 
 favor to see displayed in her room. The splendors of the 
 Hermitage had given her a taste for brilliant light. In 
 the evening, except in the very last years of her life, her 
 saloon sparkled with lamps and candles, which gave, on 
 your first entrance, a somewhat worldly air to the scene. 
 This exterior was, in fact, destined for the eyes of the 
 world. She wanted her guests to find there the peculiar 
 refinements to which they were accustomed, and by which 
 their lighter tastes were gratified ; but you soon saw that 
 the interior belonged to God, and that she who possessed 
 these advantages was not possessed by them. It was just 
 the same with the first impression created by her conver- 
 sation. 
 
 There was nothing austere or grave to begin with. 
 Social intercourse was there, as elsewhere, trite or super- 
 ficial or languid, at the outset ; but presently a current 
 of superior intellect began to renovate and vivify the 
 atmosphere. A good word fitly spoken, a gleam of intel- 
 ligence, an impulse of affection, changed and enlivened the 
 scene. People arrived at last at a degree of earnestness 
 which no one had foreseen or prepared for ; and thus it 
 was, that numbers of worldly people, persons of light and 
 wavering convictions, who would have been on their guard 
 against premeditation, and stiffened themselves against
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 233 
 
 attack, yielded to the undeniable charm of sincerity and 
 novelty. More than one visitor, who had obtained an intro- 
 duction to Mme. Swetchine from motives of curiosity or 
 vanity, found in her presence what he had not come to 
 seek, and went out other than he came in. 
 
 At all periods, Paris, the capital of European society, 
 has counted political, literary, and aesthetic salons. The 
 salon of Mme. Swetchine neither disclaimed nor affected 
 any of these titles ; but it was above all, without ostenta- 
 tion or premeditation, a Christian fireside. The catholic 
 spirit did not aim at ascendency there, but it naturally 
 irradiated the place. Mme. Swetchine had never arro- 
 gated to herself a mission. She knew too well that mis- 
 sions are not improvised, and come only from above ; but 
 she made it a point of duty to be unfailingly affable. She 
 regarded it as the tribute due for her birth, her fortune, 
 and her intellect. The least worldly advantages were, in 
 her eyes, instruments of Providence, whereof all, without 
 exception, must render an exact account. She had had no 
 previous ambition to establish a celebrated salon ; but when 
 that salon had grown up of itself, through the attractive, 
 latent, involuntary virtue which dwelt in her as in the 
 magnet, her very modesty would not allow her to evade 
 her responsibility. Without appreciating all the good she 
 did, she had too much sagacity and too much experience 
 in human nature not to have glimpses of the pre-eminence 
 which so many hearts and so many diverse minds accorded 
 her ; nor did she fail to comprehend that she ought as 
 far as this might depend on her action and her example 
 to bring nearer to God all who came near to her. Soon, 
 hers became a ministry of conscience ; and, from that time, 
 neither her sufferings, which were excruciating, nor her 
 tastes, which often made her sigh for study and retirement,
 
 234 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 were any check upon her self-devotion ; and she finally 
 came to look upon herself in the light of a sentinel who 
 has received his countersign, and must keep it until death. 
 
 This sentiment alone can explain her inexhaustible 
 patience. No one ever surprised in her an emotion of irri- 
 tation or of ennui. At one time, she was confronted with 
 presumptuous self-conceit, which laid down the law to her 
 on matters in which she might have instructed the world ; 
 at another, she had to deal with representatives of science 
 or polemics, who pertinaciously seized upon her soiree, 
 and appropriated it for the development of their favorite 
 subjects. Yet again, when the conversation was especially 
 to her taste, the door would open to admit some idle lady, 
 or some one of her modest friends who were strangers to 
 the world, and all subjects of general interest. But never 
 did these fatigues, these usurpations, or these untimely 
 interruptions, elicit the slightest symptom of vexation. 
 The humble was never sacrificed to the proud, the tedious 
 to the agreeable, the poor to the rich. A woman with a 
 great, name tormented her salon and her friends for fifteen 
 years; she burst forth like a tempest on any and every 
 occasion, multiplied her questions without waiting for 
 replies, and the announcement of her name was the signal 
 for a general dispersion ; but she never met with a hesi- 
 tating or a cool reception. Mme. Swetchine calmly dis- 
 couraged all the attempts against Mme. de X., by saying 
 sweetly, " What would you have ? Everybody avoids 
 her ; she is unhappy, and she has no one but me." 
 Mme. de X. died in old age ; and, in her last days, it 
 was Mme. Swetchine who sought her out, and lingered 
 longest by her death-bed. 
 
 Sometimes, also, implacable antagonists met in her 
 salon, and this reduced her to mute but utter despair.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 235 
 
 There was, for instance, a standing quarrel between Cheva- 
 lier Z. and M. Y. When the Chevalier Z. had had the 
 good fortune to arrive first, plant himself before the fire, 
 and give himself up to the triumph of a dissertation on 
 some oriental manuscript, without an opposing voice ; if 
 M. Y. made his appearance, he at once relapsed into silence, 
 glided behind the arm-chairs, and gained the door unob- 
 served. Mme. Swetchine only followed him with her 
 eyes, softened his flight by a graceful " au revoir" and 
 sometimes even had the courage to reproach the con- 
 queror. 
 
 Women who are not ordinarily accessible to the influ- 
 ence of another woman, were confidential and docile to 
 Mme. Swetchine. Young and old acknowledged her sway. 
 That which gives rise to hostility among women, did not 
 exist in Mme. Swetchine. She never awoke a sentiment 
 of rivalry, because no one ever detected in her a tempta- 
 tion to win admiration at the expense of others, or to 
 eclipse any person whatever. Her disinterestedness won 
 pardon for her superiority. 
 
 This woman, who, when she could snatch an hour of 
 solitude, gave herself up to the severest studies, and, as 
 she sometimes confessed, plunged into metaphysics as into 
 a bath, was all grace and gayety the moment a young lady 
 entered her salon. Beauty, elegance, freshness of age 
 and emotions, gave Mme. Swetchine unaffected pleasure. 
 All who were just entering life appeared to her peculiarly 
 interesting, and needful of support. Her taste in matters 
 of the toilet, as in every thing else, was fine and unerring. 
 She, whose simple dress never varied, and consisted only 
 of a costume of brown stuff, made up in one unchanging 
 fashion, did not condemn dress in others, when that dress 
 was in harmony with their station. Young ladies loved
 
 236 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 to display themselves to her in the evening, in all the bril- 
 liancy of their ball-room attire. It gave Mine. Swetchine 
 sincere pleasure to admire them, to praise them, though 
 not in the hackneyed language of compliment, and gently 
 to indicate what she thought excessive. And so it often 
 came to pass, that, after that swift evening apparition, the 
 young girl came back in the morning, at the hour of tete-a- 
 tetes, influenced by graver thoughts, and soliciting a very dif- 
 ferent kind of advice. It was then that sick or erring hearts 
 came and revealed themselves to Mme. Swetchine in all 
 sincerity, and then that she shed upon them, sweetly and 
 gradually, light, truth, and life. Sometimes she struck at 
 the very root of the evil ; sometimes she arrested its 
 development, and then again she applied herself to healing 
 old wounds, or indicated the most efficacious mode of 
 curing them, or neutralizing their effect. God only knows 
 what passed in those interviews, how much was quietly 
 done for his service and his glory in those secret confer- 
 ences, which often ended in tears, when they had begun 
 with the frivolous chat of the drawing-room. Hence it 
 was, that so many young souls loved in her a spiritual 
 mother, and vowed to her a sort of worship, whose ardor, 
 checked and repressed by the very mystery of its origin, 
 was only freely revealed after she had been taken away. 
 
 Mme. Swetchine, in her turn, drew from this intimate 
 intercourse, added to her own exquisite penetration, a knowl- 
 edge of the human heart which amounted almost to divina- 
 tion. A word, a gesture, a glance, a remark, or a pause, 
 unnoticed by the world, became a whole revelation to her ; 
 and when you subsequently came to her, thinking to tell 
 her every thing, you at once perceived that she knew all in 
 advance, both virtues and defects. She knew already what 
 had never been told her, and sometimes even what one
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 237 
 
 was striving to hide. She knew the science of the soul, 
 as physicians know that of the body. Common men see 
 in a plant only its form and its color : the botanist per- 
 ceives, at first sight, the family to which it belongs, and 
 the laws which it obeys. He needs but a glance at the 
 flower you hold in your hand to be able to say, " You come 
 from the mountain or the plain, from the south or the 
 region of snows." Such was the glance of Mme. Swet- 
 chine. A feature, a lineament, sufficed to enable her to 
 recognize and reconstruct a whole moral nature. 
 
 Mme. Swetchine's days were divided into three dis- 
 tinct parts. She reserved the morning exclusively to her- 
 self; but her morning began before day. At eight o'clock, 
 she had heard mass, and visited the poor. She then 
 came home, and her doors were closed till three o'clock. 
 From three to six, her drawing-room was open ; it was 
 closed from six to nine. At nine, her soiree commenced, 
 and rarely closed before midnight. The habitues of the 
 afternoon and evening were generally different. Certain 
 persons who passed every evening with Mme. Swetchine, 
 had never encountered or made the acquaintance of others 
 who had chosen the morning. The Marquise de Pastoret, 
 for instance, who came to Mme. Swetchine's every day, 
 came there only between four and six o'clock, when she 
 returned from visiting the hospitals, and after the accom- 
 plishment of her countless works of charity. In the 
 evening, with a grace and dignity equal to those of Mine. 
 Swetchine, Mme. de Pastoret did the honors of her hus- 
 band's house, either at the chancellor's residence, or, after 
 he had resigned his chancellorship, in his hotel in the 
 Place Louis XV. 
 
 One evening, however, Mme. de Pastoret was seized 
 with sudden anxiety about a friend, and wanted to go to
 
 238 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 her. Her coachman made some opposition, and desired 
 to speak with her. " I am at your orders, Mme. la Mar- 
 quise," he said, respectfully ; " but I ought to apprise you 
 that I cannot answer for the consequences. My horses 
 have never seen lighted lanterns." Others preferred the 
 afternoon, when they were more secure against interrup- 
 tions and the advent of numbers. 
 
 During the last years of the Restoration, which we 
 have yet to review, Mme. Swetchine continued occasion- 
 ally to go out herself, either to hear music, or to visit the 
 Duchess de Duras or Mme. de Montcalm, who were equally 
 confined by ill health. 
 
 To the lifelong friends we have already enumerated, 
 must be added, after Mme. Swetchine's return from Italy, 
 the Duke de Laval, the Countess de Gontaut, sister of 
 Cardinal de Rohan, Mme. Recamier, and M. Ballanche. 
 Mme. Recamier had earnestly begged Mme. Swetchine to 
 adopt, in common with herself, the asylum of the Abbaye- 
 aux-Bois ; and, but for the objections of General Swet- 
 chine, this establishment would probably have been the 
 object of Mme. Swetchine's decided preference. 
 
 Count de Sales, the last and worthy representative of 
 the great name of Saint Francois de Sales, also became, 
 along with Mgr. Lambruschini, nuncio of the Holy See, one 
 of the most constant guests at the hotel in the Rue St. 
 Dominique. Mgr. de Quelen, also, came as often as the 
 onerous administration of a diocese like that of Paris 
 allowed. The King's ministers, and the officers of the 
 Restoration, could only testify their interest at rare inter- 
 vals ; while she herself was always extremely reserved 
 about approaching persons in power. Yet this sentiment 
 never amounted to indifference, in proof of which we will 
 cite some extracts, selected at hazard, from her corre- 
 spondence :
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHJNE. 239 
 
 TO MLLE. DE VIRIEU. 
 
 Oct. 5, 1824. 
 
 While you were writing me, what great events were pre- 
 paring at Paris 1 1 . . . I have but one fear, and that is, that 
 inv favorite opinions will be too much in vogue. That is not 
 the worst that can happen, certainly ; nevertheless, it cannot be 
 denied that there is always danger. When it is opinions that 
 are wrong, the evil is only slowly eradicated ; but, if authority 
 makes use of violent remedies, a transient obedience is only 
 purchased at the expense of future' danger. I desire for reli- 
 gion what economists demand for commerce, that it should be 
 allowed to take its own course without interference ; but, in our 
 days, people will not call time to their aid, time which, when 
 properly employed, weakens all that is pernicious, and consoli- 
 dates all which is truly desirable. 
 
 On the 24th of December, she wrote again to Mile, de 
 Virieu : 
 
 " The enthusiasm which the King excites is unparalleled. 
 One must go back to the days of Henry IV. to get an idea of 
 his popularity. Parties, one and all, confine themselves to a 
 flourish of their respective trumpets. Anxieties for the past 
 and future are alike abjured. The general satisfaction is a 
 pleasant thing; but one cannot help asking one's self, why 
 these sudden illuminations come so late ; and how a large 
 proportion of the people can be fickle enough to pass so quickly 
 from fear and suspicion to the most joyous confidence. The 
 noble emancipation of the press, and the words uttered by the 
 Dauphin on the occasion, show better than any thing else 
 the spirit in which the King proposes to rule. The first page 
 of the reign of Charles X. is like certain sonnets, in itself 
 worth a long poem. I have been a French woman ever since 
 I knew my own heart. I have never admitted any other 
 authority in France than that of the Bourbons, and I glory 
 in their triumphs like their most devoted servants. Ah, what 
 poor creatures we are ! If we could only be just and impartial, 
 once for all ! " 
 
 We have seen, by the cares she lavished on the young 
 Nadine, what a place her adopted daughter held in the 
 
 1 The accession of Charles X., and the auspicious measures by which 
 it was signalized.
 
 240 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 interior life of Mnae. Swetchine. When Mile. Staeline 
 became Countess of Segur d'Aguesseau, and undertook, in 
 her turn, the duties of a wife and mother, Mme. Swetchine 
 felt a void which could only be filled by a new attachment. 
 Mme. de Nesselrode was anxious about the health of 
 one of her daughters, a mere child, whom she could nofc 
 herself remove from the dangers of the Russian climate. 
 We do not learn from the correspondence of these two 
 friends, how the thought originated of confiding the child 
 of the one to the heart of the other. It is probable that 
 the wish and the consent were the result of one of those 
 spontaneous impulses which reciprocally meet and forestall 
 one another. Little Helen de Nesselrode assumed her 
 share in the maternal solicitude of Mme. Swetchine in the 
 beginning of the year 1829. She was fourteen years old; 
 that is, at the age when the instincts of the heart are all 
 alive, while the reason is as yet undeveloped. From that 
 time, the correspondence of Mme. Swetchine and Mme. de 
 Nesselrode becomes a complete and admirable treatise on 
 education. This precious correspondence, like so many 
 others, deserves some time to be published separately ; but 
 meanwhile it may afford us a glimpse of Mme. Swetchine's 
 new cares : 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS DE NESSELRODE. 
 
 Dec. 12, 1829. 
 
 MY VERY DEAR FRIEND, Every thing goes well between 
 Helen and me : I have obtained a foothold. It is not words 
 that import: it is their effect; and in her case, at least, my 
 conscience can be entirely absolved by success only. I still 
 pursue, and probably shall for some time to come, my system 
 of temporization. I wish to attack only when I am sure of 
 victory, and this cannot come all at once. I accustom her to 
 think that there are certain things which I do not approve, but 
 which I shall not blame very severely to begin with. What 
 she lacks, in common with all other children, is self-control ;
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 241 
 
 and that is not acquired in a day. I am preparing her for it 
 gradually. Errors into which she fell two months ago would 
 be impossible to her to-day, because she herself has condemned 
 them. Her faith in me increases daily. I court and foster it 
 with all the skill and strategy at my command ; and my strategy 
 is truth, but truth with the charm of perfect unconstraint. 
 Thus, to induce her to open her heart to me, I open mine to all 
 her interests, reminiscences, and feelings. I try to make her 
 talk of those who are dear to her. I give her a share in the 
 things which interest me. If she brings me a letter which she 
 has just received, I make her read one of mine. When I talk 
 with her, I never condescend to her; I place her apparently 
 on my own level, and, by means of the habits which 1 induce 
 her to form, I acquire necessarily an influence which command 
 and coercion never would have given me. The right of con- 
 quest is not equal to the right of birth, say what you will ; and 
 one must make one's self beloved and acknowledged, instead 
 of imposing one's authority. 
 
 January, 1830. 
 
 MY DEAR FRIEND, You seem to feel the need of impart- 
 ing to me some of the satisfaction which fills your own heart. 
 Happiness is not enough for you : you want to deserve it ; 
 and I am grateful for your ingenious way of telling me that 
 you appreciate my affection. Yes, it does not fail ; it feeds 
 upon your cares, is identified with your interests, and makes 
 me keenly alive to all which affects you. Through those I 
 love I feel rich, and, as it were, endowed anew with prosperity 
 and hope. I could never have believed that this dear little 
 Helen could so have insinuated herself into my affections. 
 She moves me to the very depths of my being, and I feel all a 
 mother's deep yet sweet solicitude. 
 
 To return to our dear child : she gets on well with her les- 
 sons, and I think they will be useful to her. She seizes with 
 wonderful avidity on all beauties, true or false, which bear the 
 stamp of elevation and grandeur. When she is moved, she is 
 transported. Just now we are reading the Greek tragedies. 
 Each subject, as treated by the ancients, I follow up with the 
 modern imitations in the languages with which she is familiar; 
 and so we get a sort of whole, which captivates her attention, 
 and stimulates her curiosity. You do not yet know, perhaps, 
 that I have given her an additional "master, M. Saigey, a 
 man strongly recommended by M. Cuvier, and who does credit 
 
 16
 
 242 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCEUXE. 
 
 even to that recommendation. I applied to him for a course 
 of general geography, and he enters into my views admirably. 
 His knowledge is of the clearest and most entertaining de- 
 scription, and is communicated in so sprightly a manner, that 
 fatigue is not to be thought of. If Helen develops a taste 
 for it, they will go on to political geography, which every one 
 ought to understand, taking up the different ideas which 
 attach to our globe under the varying aspects of its structure, 
 its elements, and the principal phenomena which it presents. 
 This will amount to nothing else than a history of the earth, 
 the heavens, and the ocean ; but we shall confine ourselves 
 to the most general facts, and only aim at imparting a knowl- 
 edge of things which are daily alluded to, even in drawing-room 
 conversation. I am making the experiment without feeling 
 confident of its success. We shall widen or contract the course 
 we wish her to pursue, according to the facilities afforded us by 
 her natural tastes, and teachableness of disposition. 
 
 Dec. 15, 1830. 
 
 I leave it to your own heart, my dear friend, to guess the 
 joy afforded me by your little letter of November 27. The 
 improvement which struck you in Helen's letter is all the more 
 real because nothing is urged upon her. I would rather not 
 see her do well than incur the risk attendant on forcing her to 
 do so. It is not what she does to-day that I really care for: 
 it is what she is becoming, what I may be able to prepare 
 and develop largely and finely for the future. We are apt to 
 forget that education is the means, and not the end ; that it does 
 not matter so much what we obtain by immediate influence as 
 what we may have insured against a time when that influence 
 shall have ceased. No one, surely, sets a higher value than I 
 upon a compassionate and charitable spirit ; but I avoid every 
 direct injunction and exhortation thereto. I do not even sur- 
 prise and take advantage of her generous impulses when I 
 perceive that they are vague and fugitive. It is thus that 
 I can best assure myself of the steps she is really taking, and 
 thoroughly enjoy it where they are progressive. Thus, the 
 other day, she came to me, with an air of satisfaction whi^h 
 anticipated my own, and begged to be permitted, out of her 
 monthly allowance, to pay half the board of a little girl whom 
 I had just placed in the House of Industry. I asked her if 
 she had reflected on the matter, and fully made up her mind ; 
 and, after receiving the liveliest assurances on her part, I gave
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 243 
 
 my consent, and told her. it would increase my pleasure in a 
 good work to have her share it with me. 
 
 Difficulties which, six months ago, used still to come up 
 sometimes, no longer exist. Warned by Helen's own shrewd 
 and correct judgment, I remember that the only genuine supe- 
 riority is that of reason, and that authority itself must appeal 
 to it. 
 
 Mile, de Nesselrode did not leave Mme. Swetchine till 
 the eve of her marriage with the Count Michel Chrep- 
 towitch ; and her filial devotion is to this day a living 
 witness to the love of which she was the object. 
 
 Mme. Swetchine went in person, and restored Helen to 
 the protection of the Countess de Nesselrode, who was 
 then on a visit to the baths of Brighton, in company with 
 the Grand-duchess Helena. This trip afforded Mme. 
 Swetchine an opportunity for a rapid excursion to London 
 and other parts of England. 
 
 These domestic joys, these noble and fruitful years of 
 the Restoration, were saddened for Mme. Swetchine by 
 unremitting anxiety about the health of the Duchess de 
 Duras, and finally by her premature death. After she 
 came back from Italy, Mme. Swetchine felt that she must 
 indemnify herself for the privations of her absence, and 
 had seized every opportunity for passing a few months 
 with her friend at Andilly or St. Germain. " Paris," she 
 said, " is a place where it is more convenient for people to 
 hate than to love each other ; " and she wrote to the 
 Countess de Nesselrode, in speaking of some plans for 
 being nearer the Duchess de Duras: 
 
 "Protracted separations are bad things; and a few days 
 spent together remove the most formidable inconveniences of 
 absence. If in our first youth we reckon on the future, and 
 trouble appears only provisional, we do not hold the present 
 BO cheap when we get on iu life. We want to grasp all, 
 for we leel that all is about to escape us. I feel so old,
 
 244 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 that I seem to be only capable of continuing. The sole reason 
 for doing a thing to-morrow appears to be that I did it to-day. 
 Most of us have some worldly cares ; and, if we would be sure 
 of accomplishing any thing, the best way is to manage so as to 
 do a little every day." 
 
 This part of Mme. Swetchine's correspondence soon 
 becomes very sad ; and she details fully to Mme. de Nessel- 
 rode the symptoms which presage her irrevocable loss : 
 
 October 30. 
 
 I told you, in my last, that I hoped to prolong my peaceful 
 isolation till November ; but the news I received of Mme. de 
 Duras's terrible accident induced a sudden change of plan. 
 One night, after she had been about as usual through the 
 day, she saw the light of a lamp near her suddenly disap- 
 pear, then turned her head and saw it again. The eye and 
 cheek towards the lamp had been paralyzed ; the blindness 
 of the eye was complete. You can judge of the anxiety and 
 terror of the moment ! The most prompt and efficacious remedies 
 were employed, and the eye appeared to recover its functions ; 
 but so imperfectly, that even now she can scarcely distinguish 
 the outlines of objects. As if there were not danger enough 
 in this appalling menace, we are anxious about her in other 
 respects. The physicians think that the attack was only a 
 sympathetic affection, and they seem to apprehend some organic 
 difficulty. The other day, she suffered excruciatingly for six 
 or seven hours, after taking a few spoonfuls of chiccory pea- 
 soup. Add to this, that her nerves are in a state of constant 
 irritability, that she is extremely depressed, and has fainting 
 fits, which are very critical, coming at a time when she is so 
 unable to bear them. The change in her, alone, would give 
 ground for every apprehension. It is a complete overthrow. 
 But in the midst of all this, the moment our dear friend feels 
 a little better, she walks ; she makes the tour of her garden ; 
 and I have seen her prolong her walk for a quarter of an hour 
 without inconvenience. 
 
 It is the same with her mind. Her silence and profound 
 pre-occupation often give place to an overflowing tenderness 
 of expression when she chats a little, and smiles that kind, 
 bright smile which imparts such a charm to her countenance. 
 I am profoundly struck by the affecting religious submission 
 with which she meets all her sufferings, and the danger which 
 threatens her. The first thing she said to me was, that she
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 245 
 
 regarded her present state as incurable, a sort of transition 
 from life to death. She said she felt it to be a warning from 
 God, and her sole wish was to profit by it ; in short, it would 
 be impossible to approach the greatest and most solemn 
 thoughts with more courage and actual power of mind. What 
 an immense consolation the goodness of God has vouchsafed 
 us ! but it is all the more sorrowful and affecting to turn our 
 thoughts inward, and measure the greatness of the loss with 
 which we are threatened. Those who only knew Mme. do 
 Duras superficially cannot have been prepared for the proof 
 she is affording of genuine greatness of soul ; but for me, my 
 dear friend, no emotion of surprise mingles with my sad joy. 
 The world and life may have been too noisy about her ; but she 
 was right-minded enough to rise superior to it all, and God is 
 showing forth in her all the triumphs of his grace, by appro- 
 priating to himself the capabilities for passionate devotion 
 which constitute the essence of her character. I have met in 
 the world, which, to some extent, ignores these details, people 
 who were persuaded that Mme. de Duras was a prey to all the 
 anguish of an utter revolt against the fear of death, and that 
 she repudiated the idea. They represent her as carried away 
 by an imagination which knows not how to submit ; while I 
 and many others can testify, that it would be impossible to 
 understand the truth more fully than does she, or to face it 
 with greater courage and sweetness. Even the natural conflict 
 between the instinct of existence and the fear of the terrible 
 transition, seems to have ceased. Her resignation has sur- 
 mounted all, and taken away from her sorrow all that was 
 gnawing and destructive. My uneasiness is very great, dear 
 friend ; but she herself has intervals of hope. Sometimes I 
 am utterly dejected, and then again I tell myself that I exag- 
 gerate her danger, and that there are a good many examples 
 which might re-assure me. No one could be more careful, 
 attentive, and charming than Clara is with her mother. I have 
 found myself doubly attracted to her during my stay at St. 
 Germain. She is one of the best and most thoughtful mothers 
 I know, and the tenderest of wives ; but now one would say 
 she was a daughter only, so exclusively does she consecrate 
 herself to her mother. Mme. de Larochejacqueline has been 
 detained, by the sickness of her mother-in-law, at one of her 
 estates in Vendee. 
 
 The attack described by Mme. Swetchine with such 
 anxious fidelity, did not cost Mme. de Duras her life ; but 
 it shook her health fearfully. An incurable form of liver
 
 246 LITE OP MADAME STNTETCHINE. 
 
 complaint soon declared itself, and the mild climate of 
 Nice was tried in vain. In the month of March, 1829, 
 Mme. Swetchine, as well as the elite of French society 
 and letters, was called to mourn an irreparable loss. The 
 Duchess de Duras had barely entered upon her fiftieth 
 year.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHIXE. 
 
 CHAPTER XKL 
 
 Revolution of 1830. New religious situation. Correspondence with 
 the Count de Montalembert and the Abbe" Lacordaire. Notes of 
 Father de Ravignan. 
 
 Revolution of July was a source of grief and 
 J- terror to Mme. Swetchine. Princes whom she re- 
 vered, and friends who had long been dear to her, were 
 banished or struck down. Liberal institutions, whose 
 duration she had desired, and which she had fondly 
 believed compatible with order, were suddenly launched 
 upon a new course, and subjected to incalculable tests. 
 Mme. Swetchine had never deceived herself about any 
 of the faults of the friends of royalty. She was no less 
 clear-sighted and no less anxious about the faults of the 
 friends of freedom. Enumerating the alarming symp- 
 toms which appeared on every side, she wrote to the 
 Countess Edling: 
 
 " How true was that remark of yours, that we are witness- 
 ing the grand judgment of human pride ! When a spiritual 
 element mingles with guilt, it becomes demoniacal." 
 
 On the 23d of December, 1830, during the trial of 
 Prince de Polignac, she wrote as follows : 
 
 " You have learned the particulars of the progress of events 
 here during these last days, the issue of the great drama in the 
 Chamber of Peers, and all the agitation and resentment of 
 which it has been the pretext and occasion. Day before yes- 
 terday, yesterday even, Paris was like a city with an enemy at 
 the gates. To-day, calmness and even cheerfulness prevail, 
 or so they say ; and death-cries are replaced by vivats, which
 
 248 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 are not of the sort to prolong the life of any one. Yesterday 
 you would have supposed that every right had been outraged, 
 because four victims had escaped the steel of the assassin. 
 To-day that hideous delirium appears like a dream. I must 
 say, that, if I am never disturbed in the midst of universal 
 alarm, no more can I be re-assured by an improvised security. 
 The men remain the same, the danger very nearly. One must 
 have been here a good while to be able to grasp or compre- 
 hend aught of that complication of emotions, wills, projects, 
 and especially interests, which is at the bottom of it all. 
 Those throngs of men, so menacing, so powerful in numbers, 
 so incensed, were under no apparent direction. If their chance 
 of success had been greater, those who incited them would 
 have given them some more definite object ; but, instead of 
 one aim, they seemed to have three or four; and dissension 
 burst forth with the first advantage they gained. How could it 
 be otherwise with a sovereign people that recognizes no will 
 but its own, and in its own only the impulse of the moment. 
 
 " The lower classes aim at nothing less than a levelling of 
 all ranks, and, to succeed in this thing, will renew the conflict 
 unceasingly. Their power has now been revealed to them, 
 and they will pursue their aim. They still rely upon legal 
 methods ; but, if these do not insure success, they will under- 
 take to seize it, sword in hand. 
 
 " Nothing could be more indeterminate than the results of 
 this situation. Everywhere we have demi-wrong, demi-usur- 
 pation, demi-loyalty, and demi-injustice. It is the triumph of 
 the quasi. The foundations are so bad, all is so tainted with 
 the original vice, that, however good a thing may be in itself, 
 it requires, first or last, a sacrifice to a wrong principle. Ah, 
 how careful we ought to be to do no evil ! for evil always re- 
 turns by a vicious circle, and re-acts upon itself." 
 
 In the midst of the protracted agitations which suc- 
 ceeded the Revolution of July, the possibility of an imme- 
 diate return of the Duke de Bordeaux occurred to many 
 minds ; and these hopes could not fail to find an echo in 
 the soul of Mme. Swetchine. She does hot omit to men- 
 tion them in her correspondence : 
 
 " Great re-actions in favor of virtue, even if brought about 
 by its enemies, not only pave the way for a genuine restoration, 
 but also of themselves assure its permanence. If there had
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCH1XE. 249 
 
 not been such, can you imagine the return of the Duke de 
 Bordeaux in the present condition of people and things ? Le- 
 gitimacy is a fine principle; but it is only one element of 
 order, and cannot stand alone. I ask of those who hearken 
 only to their passions, whether the point in question is the 
 futile triumph of restoring the royal child, the vanity of hav- 
 ing won a victory, or rather a rule which shall re-establish and 
 protect society, and firmly implant those verities which are 
 useful to states, and conservative of their true prosperity. 
 No keener regrets than mine follow the unhappy princes into 
 their exile. I have a tender reverence for the piety and virtue 
 of the King, the most affectionate and devoted regard for the 
 Dauphiness ; but, while I marvel at the oblivion to which 
 the most enthusiastic loyalty often consigns them, I do not 
 think that so many misfortunes can be redeemed by the pueril- 
 ity of an ephemeral success. I think we must learn to wait ; 
 and leave it to God to take the initiative, and choose the mo- 
 ment which his will generally indicates to man by unequivocal 
 signs, and which has certainly not yet arrived. So I am quite 
 of the opinion of Alfred de Damas, and opposed to that of M. 
 
 de . 
 
 "But let us, my friend, give a moment's thought to one 
 poor destiny, which after many fluctuations, wrongs, and re- 
 verses, seems to-day to be verging on the last extremity of 
 distress: I speak of M. de Chateaubriand. There are a 
 great many people, as Mme. de Stae'l says, who throw their 
 friends into the sea that they may have the pleasure of fishing 
 them out again. But pity men of genius and stormy natures ; 
 for they are weak, and invariably dragged further than they 
 desire. M. de Chateaubriand has always respected certain 
 limits : his conduct in this emergency, and his utter abandon- 
 ment by his party, are the best proofs of it ; and, in the age in 
 which we live, we may well respect men who continue to re- 
 spect two or three things. M. de Chateaubriand might and 
 ought to have been at ease to-day. He is almost to blame for 
 being otherwise ; but let us take the fact as it is, cruel, very 
 cruel. To avoid taking the oath, he has renounced his peerage, 
 and with the peerage the pension of twelve thousand francs 
 which it afforded him. Do you know what he has besides ? A 
 capital of from sixteen to twenty thousand francs, still owed 
 him bv his publisher. This sum will be swallowed up by debts 
 and his journey to Switzerland, or will perhaps be sufficient to 
 support him for a few months. And afterwards ? It is the 
 insoluble problem of this afterwards which I present to you, 
 my dear and good friend ; and which will surely awaken in 
 you some concern, and, it may be, give rise to something
 
 250 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 more, an opinion, a piece of advice, an unexpected hope 
 This is the thought which has occurred to me in the midst of 
 my sorrow and perplexity. If the Emperor were informed 
 of the actual and indisputable condition of a man who is a 
 chevalier of his own order, whom the Emperor Alexander 
 greatly distinguished, whose ideas are fundamentally monarch- 
 ical, and whose conscience has remained faithful to his masters 
 in their misfortunes, if the Emperor's eyes were to fall on 
 such a man, would it not occur to him to offer assistance ? 
 Could the idea be suggested? I must tell you, in the first 
 place, that the thought is entirely my own, and has been im- 
 parted to no one. M. de Chateaubriand is so far a stranger 
 to the notion, that, in case you should think it practicable, I 
 should beg you to wait until I had sounded him, and learned 
 whether such a favor at the hands of a foreign prince wtmld be 
 acceptable." 
 
 This noble thought did reach the Emperor Nicholas. 
 His reply was, that, if he were to testify any interest in 
 the French Legitimists, he should accord his preference 
 to the Count de La Ferronnays, the last ambassador of 
 Charles X. to his own court. But the overture was with- 
 out results in either case. 
 
 Finally, we have the means of forming an exact idea 
 of the state of Mme. Swetchine's opinions at this epoch ; 
 for we can verify it at the very moment when the insur- 
 rections were apparently quelled, and the new government 
 found itself confronted by moral difficulties only. The 
 ministry of MM. Dupont (de 1'Eure) and Lafitte had 
 given place, on the llth of March, 1831, to a coalition, in 
 which M. Casimir Perier was President of the Council, 
 and held the portfolio of the Interior. Count Sebastian! 
 was Minister of Foreign Affairs, Baron Louis managed the 
 finances, and the Bureau of Public Instruction was in 
 the hands of Count de Montalivet, who had displayed 
 intrepid courage during the trial of the ministers. 
 
 On the 13th of March, 1831, Madame Swetchine 
 wrote:
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 251 
 
 " The creation of the new ministry re-assures me somewhat 
 about war, and gives me faith in a respite, at least, if not in the 
 actual re-establishment of security. The fatigue consequent 
 on so much agitation, anxiety for so many interests, and the 
 selection of honorable and strong men, all these circum- 
 stances strengthen the chances of the new order of things. If 
 it is not firmly established, it will be because it is manifestly 
 impossible, in an age when everybody reasons, for a govern- 
 ment to sustain itself by methods opposed to the nature of its 
 origin. If this coalition does not succeed, it will be because 
 the evils of the situation are fundamental. I have always 
 thought that if, while everybody here is behaving well, or at 
 least as well as possible under the circumstances, the result 
 should be a political failure, the moral of the fable would 
 appear in the most striking manner. It would have been de- 
 monstrated, that the basis of the edifice is at fault, and that 
 the defect is irremediable." 
 
 The political situation of France was now radically 
 changed ; the religious situation no less so. The rela- 
 tions of the Church with the new government could not 
 be what they had been with the old. 
 
 The natural and inevitable result of these rude over- 
 turns was a necessity that the clergy should have a point 
 cTappui on some more solid ground than the temporary 
 favor or disfavor of the political authorities. Experience 
 seemed decisive. The century was but thirty years old ; 
 yet twice in that period had the Church seen compromised 
 all which the world could give or take away from her. 
 When the First Consul had appeared in the character of a 
 restorer and pacificator of society, one of his first cares 
 had been to recall a banished God, and restore to him 
 his temples. But presently, like all men who, in the 
 depth of their hearts, aim less at serving religion than at 
 being served by it, the Consul now an Emperor sub- 
 stituted compulsion for respect; and the pomp of the 
 coronation was speedily followed by the captivity of Fon- 
 tainebleau. This open violence was a revelation to the
 
 252 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 clergy of that day, who had been under the sway of certain 
 ringleaders, half blinded and half accomplices ; and when 
 the Restoration succeeded to the Empire, and restored 
 to the sovereign pontiff the plenitude of his authority, the 
 era of reparation was hailed with chivalrous and spon- 
 taneous enthusiasm. 
 
 But when political dissensions revived, and parties 
 seized on the weapons at hand, the Church saw herself 
 exposed to the same attacks as the royal power. When 
 the Restoration at last succumbed, the clergy was consid- 
 ered vanquished, and treated accordingly. From that 
 moment, a common anxiety took possession of some emi- 
 nent members of the clergy, and a few laymen profoundly 
 devoted to the Church. They asked, with one voice, 
 whether the hour had not come for them to adopt a new 
 attitude toward the new times ; and, having early agreed 
 upon a point of departure, they desired to make an appeal 
 to public sentiment, and, for this purpose, established a 
 journal with the title of " L'Avenir." 
 
 " L'Avenir" began by boldly claiming full and entire free- 
 dom of action for the Church ; no longer requesting it as 
 a favor or a privilege, but on the ground of common right, 
 and the tendencies of the modern mind. In support of 
 this energetic demand, " L'Avenir " professed, with equal 
 frankness, its adhesion to the general principles in force 
 in French society, as they had been sanctioned by the 
 Concordat of 1801, and to the representative regime 
 inaugurated by the return of the House of Bourbon. 
 "Destructive force," said the Catholic organ, "is but an 
 additional calamity when there is not a constructive idea 
 behind it." l " Your greatest glory," wrote some one at 
 
 i Reply to M. de Potter, September, 1832.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 253 
 
 that time to the founder of " L'Avenir," " will be to have 
 spoken of liberty to the world, with a pure heart, and lips 
 overflowing with the praise of God. It will be to have 
 purified your cause, and shown it to posterity, clothed with 
 a kind of Christian virginity, yet adorned with all the 
 splendor of the priesthood. You have restored to that 
 cause the titles of its divine origin, and reconciled thereto 
 the souls which revolted from the sanguinary worship by 
 which it was profaned." 1 
 
 The enterprise was bold, but favored by all things with- 
 in and without. The most eloquent of the Christian 
 apologists of that epoch, the Abbe de Lamennais, beheld 
 courageous hearts and eminent minds flocking to his stand- 
 ard, and ranging themselves about him in the character of 
 devoted and ardent disciples. 
 
 To deliver the clergy, if possible, from the bonds and 
 the engagements which had become so onerous, and which, 
 twice in so short a time, had been so near proving fatal ; 
 to endeavor to release their order, once for all, from 
 the temptation or the danger of falling into the hands of 
 fortune or of chance ; to set before it, as the only way 
 of salvation for itself and the souls of men, the exclusive 
 duty of its evangelical mission, such was the programme 
 unanimously adopted by the contributors to u L'Avenir." 
 
 This swift movement was, and remains, one of the most 
 fruitful of our century. The nature of the questions 
 agitated, the grandeur of talent and nobility of character 
 called forth, acquired for it an influence, and have left a 
 memory which is still a battle-ground, whereon must be 
 decided one of the most important problems of human 
 
 1 (Euvres Posthumes de M. de Lamennais. Correspondence, vol. L 
 p. 91.
 
 254 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 destiny, the exact definition, namely, of the relations be- 
 tween Church and State. 
 
 In the last days of the Restoration, M. de Quelen, who 
 was residing in the vicinity of Notre Dame, in the ven- 
 erable palace which had been inhabited by the Cardinal 
 de Noailles, Christopher de Beaumont, and Christian de 
 Juigne, saw enter his cabinet a young advocate, who had 
 made no figure at the bar, and had been distinguished only 
 by the practised and kindly eyes of some of the founders 
 of the Societe des bonnes Etudes, MM. Bailly, Alexis 
 de Noailles, and Berryer. M. de Quelen approached 
 the young man, bowed, and said, extending his hand 
 affectionately, " You are most welcome. You have been 
 pleading human causes. You shall henceforth plead an 
 eternal cause." This young man was M. Lacordaire, who 
 had come for the blessing of the Archbishop before shut- 
 ting himself up in a cell of St. Sulpice. 
 
 He had issued thence an austere and devout priest ; and 
 was offering to the Church the first-fruits of his apostolate, 
 when M. de Lamennais addressed him in his turn, repeat- 
 ing, though in different language, the appeal of M. de 
 Quelen. 
 
 A young scion of French aristocracy, of an age to 
 assume the prerogatives of the peerage, the Count de 
 Montalembert, had followed, along with M. de Lamennais, 
 the example of Lacordaire ; and these two, so far apart in 
 origin, so united in ardor and devotion, were bound to- 
 gether by a close and indissoluble friendship. M. de 
 Montalembert, who was an admirer of Count de Maistre, 
 had not been unmindful of the residence of Mme. Swet- 
 chine in Paris. He had begged for the honor of a pre- 
 sentation to her ; and he it was who, in his turn, had 
 introduced his friend, the Abbe Lacordaire.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME 8WETCHINE. 255 
 
 We may imagine the earnest and interesting nature of 
 their interviews, at such a time and under such circum- 
 stances. The points in question were vital ones for 
 Christianity ; they sought to determine the surest method 
 of preserving her independence, and reconquering or ex- 
 tending her disinterested empire over the nations, who 
 never need her so much as when they aspire to do with- 
 out her. In Mme. Swetchine's presence youth could inter- 
 rogate experience, and have no reason to dread timidity or 
 weakness. Her solicitude and apprehension soon became 
 intense. Every thing was tending towards a presumptuous 
 and disorderly liberalism. M. de Lamennais, who should 
 have moderated the excitement of his friends, frequently 
 set the example in exaggeration of language, and gave 
 a handle to his enemies, by the misunderstandings and 
 disturbances which he took no pains to dispel. 
 
 "L'Avenir" had been started on the loth of October, 
 1830. The opposition it excited in Paris was promptly 
 reproduced at Rome, although under a milder and more 
 temperate form. The Abbe Lacordaire and the Abbe 
 Gerbet were delegated by their coadjutors to seek an 
 interview with the papal nuncio, Mgr. Lambruschini, and 
 present him with a statement of their doctrines. This 
 interview was without result. MM. de Lamennais, La- 
 cordaire, and de Montalembert then resolved to suspend 
 the publication of " L'Avenir," and repair to the sovereign 
 pontiff, Gregory XVI., to obtain a decision from him. 
 They arrived at Rome on the 31st of December, 1831. 
 
 The correspondence of Mme. Swetchine with M. de 
 Montalembert began at the time of the publication of 
 " L'Avenir," and was kept up throughout this memorable 
 journey. This correspondence must certainly be consid- 
 ered as one of the most touching models extant of Christian
 
 256 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 friendship. It assumes, after the first interchange of 
 words of confidence and affection, the most serious char- 
 acter ; and we know not which of the two to admire most, 
 she who sees the right so clearly, and enforces it so 
 authoritatively, or he who is so free to ask advice, and to 
 this rare merit adds the rarer one of permitting the pub- 
 licity of his request. 
 
 The first of the letters here given is dated in the month 
 of September, 1831. At this period, " L'Avenir" was not 
 only awakening religious susceptibilities : it was equally 
 inciting to resistance against the civil power. It had 
 been indicted before a jury, for demanding that the nom- 
 ination of bishops should be removed from the hands of 
 the King ; and, shortly after, M. de Montalembert was 
 arraigned before the Chamber of Peers, for having at- 
 tempted, in concert with M. de Lamennais, to protest, by 
 the opening of a free school, against the imperial decree 
 which maintained the monopoly of the universities, in 
 defiance of the charter of 1830. 
 
 TO COUNT DE MONTALEMBERT. 
 
 DIEPPE, Sept. 2, 1831. 
 
 . . . Certainly there is occasion for all our lamentations. 
 Within and around us, we have great evils to deplore ; but I 
 do not think that faith is either dead or dying. It seems to me 
 that its position to-day is precisely that of science in past 
 times ; that is to say, it is withdrawn from the masses, and 
 concentrated with all the more power, sincerity, and splendor 
 upon individuals. The actual increase of light in what are 
 called the ages of ignorance answered instead of its diffusion ; 
 and, if the real end of Providence has always been to provide 
 himself in every age with those who will worship him in spirit 
 and in truth, have we any right to doubt the accomplishment 
 of that end to-day, amid such saintly souls, such tried virtue, 
 and such generous efforts ? 
 
 I loved you for what you were, before I knew you ; and 
 since then 1 have indeed been identified with you by a truly 
 maternal solicitude. You stand between your trial and your
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 257 
 
 examination as licentiate of laws, two eras of human life 
 which should be lar apart. But neither success nor defeat will 
 greatly move you. 
 
 In the train of this letter came events of the most seri- 
 ous nature. The arrival of M. de Lamennais at Rome 
 caused evident disturbance. Gregory XVI. was moved, 
 by his "clairvoyance as sovereign pontiff, by his natural 
 inclination, and even by the traditions of the Roman 
 court, to wish to save the Abbe de Lameunais. He en- 
 deavored to overlook all that was imperious in the inter- 
 rogations and entreaties addressed to him, and replied, 
 through the medium of Cardinal Pasca, by a letter in 
 which, while he indicated some points of doubtful doc- 
 trine, and certain proofs which the Holy See rejected, he 
 aimed at avoiding any more serious measure, and at exor- 
 cising public disapprobation. The Abbe" Lacordaire, beset 
 by the saddest apprehensions, but moved yet more by his 
 duty to the Church, supplicated M. de Lamennais, in the 
 most earnest manner, to desist and withdraw. M. de 
 Lamennais, however, allowed Lacordaire to depart with- 
 out him, and persisted in remaining at Rome and demand- 
 ing an official reply from the head of Christendom. 
 Unable to obtain this, he left Rome, and announced his 
 formal intention of at once resuming the publication of his 
 journal, and the propagation of his religious and political 
 doctrines. This obstinacy rendered it impossible for 
 Gregory XVI. to hesitate longer. He found it necessary 
 to search out, recapitulate, and call attention to, whatever 
 had seemed excessive in " L' Avenir," in the encyclical let- 
 ter of Aug. 15, 1832. He did so with regret, and in such 
 moderate terms, that a few years later, while Gregory 
 XVI. was still pontiff, and during the long struggle be- 
 tween the French Episcopate and MM. de Montalembert 
 
 17
 
 258 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 and Lacordaire respecting freedom of instruction, many 
 bishops adopted the general principles of " L'Avenir," modi- 
 fied by experience and a clearer insight into the questions 
 involved. If M. de Lamennais in 1832 had shown him- 
 self humble and submissive, he might have stood, without 
 a rival, at the head of the Catholic movement of 1840, 
 greater, stronger, more revered, than ever. 
 
 What a different course he did pursue, and how swiftly 
 it led him to ruin, is well known. "VVe shall get glimpses, 
 in the ensuing letters, of the anguish of heart and firm- 
 ness of faith of his two more illustrious companions. 
 
 "L'Avenir" had ceased to exist. Its contributors were 
 dispersed. The Abbe Lacordaire was ripening in retire- 
 ment his knowledge and his powers. M. de Montalem- 
 bert left France for Germany, where were awaiting him, 
 at Marburg, those religious experiences which gave rise to 
 the history of St. Elizabeth. Mme. Swetchine's corre- 
 spondence recommences in 1833. 
 
 March 19, 1833. 
 
 ... It does not satisfy me that I am remembered, my dear 
 child. I want some proof of that remembrance ; and this is 
 why we do not always agree about the length of the gaps in 
 our intercourse. I know so little of how they are filled for 
 you, and how far your courage has struggled successfully with 
 your sorrows. In such a state of uncertainty, one wants to be 
 re-assured every moment. If you would prefer not to come 
 this evening, I would propose to-morrow evening or to-morrow 
 morning, just as your private mood shall determine. It is be- 
 cause I would combat, that I will not contradict it. 
 
 Aug. 26, 1833. 
 
 The discouragement of not being able to say what one 
 would as one would, has always made it easy for me to under- 
 stand that man who, when pressed for an answer to a letter, 
 invariably sent for post-horses, and went to talk with his impa- 
 tient friend. Unfortunately, it is a method which every one 
 cannot adopt ; and he who should attempt it in your case 
 would find himself involved in I know not what vagabond
 
 LIFE OF MADAME STTETCHINE. 2">9 
 
 courses. If you only knew how to stay where you are well 
 off, one might be almost sure of making some arrangement ; 
 but your internal unrest urges you on, still crying " Dahin! 
 dahin ! " ' When you think you are obeying determinate mo- 
 tives, I very much fear that you are only yielding to a vague 
 instinct of change. Ah, my God ! it may be needful that this 
 should exhaust itself, but not to the extent of doing you an 
 injury. Every sort of holocaust demands a living being; and 
 such are not those quenched and blighted imaginations, those 
 forceless and unaspirant intellects, which often mistake indiffc-r- 
 ence and inertia lor the superiority of reason and the last 
 result of philosophy. Surely, God has impressed a different 
 tendency upon your soul, which would seem to have been 
 formed under the inspiration of that fine word of Plato's, 
 "The beautiful as a means of attaining the true." It is the 
 very course which would have fascinated you, if you had not 
 been thrust, when so young, so weak, and so inexperienced, 
 into the midst of a conflict of passions and interests wholly 
 alien to your nature. You seized only on the disinterested, 
 and, so to speak, poetic side of these questions : but all the 
 same you were in the melee, giving and receiving blows ; and 
 even your utterly pure and upright intentions could not pre- 
 vent your experiencing the unfortunate effects of a false and 
 rash course. And thus, with a mind perfectly high-toned and 
 honorable, a crystal which is almost a diamond, with faultless 
 manners, with faith and sincere piety, and all the lofty senti- 
 ments they involve, you have neither the heart's sweet joy nor 
 its sweet peace : you are dejected, troubled, dissatisfied with 
 yourself. My dear Charles, if you had transgressed no law, 
 your heart might have been sad and desolate ; but it would 
 have experienced no such ravages. The reason why you are 
 so ill at ease is, that your conscience lies so near your heart, 
 that their voices and their troubles are confounded. You feel 
 that you have been stripped in your course ; but you will not 
 say that you must retrace your steps. 
 
 Nov. 17, 1833.2 
 MY DEAR CHARLES, I know all about your accumulated 
 
 1 "Thither! thither!" The first words of the refrain of Mignon's 
 ballad in Goethe's " Wilhelm Meister." 
 
 2 The French newspapers published, at about this time, a letter from 
 Pope Gregory XVI. to Mgr. de Lesquen, Bishop of Rennes, which men- 
 tioned, among other symptoms of the impending revolt of M. de Lamen- 
 nais, the publication of Mickicwitch's " Polish Pilgrim," which had been 
 translated by M. de Montalenibert.
 
 260 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 troubles ; and you may guess how sad and unceasing is my 
 anxiety, understanding as I do that you are deeply hurt. 
 Without having been as sanguine as you, I have followed 
 with solicitude your swift and sudden alternations between 
 hope and fear, anticipation and sorrowful surprise. 
 
 But what re-assures me about you, dear Charles, and gives 
 me real confidence in your destiny, is, that your mistakes, 
 your imprudences, and your deviations, have always been 
 followed by trials. You are not yet sentenced, for there is 
 nothing irrevocable about your sorrows or your situation ; nor 
 are you abandoned, for faith and all true consolation still re- 
 main to you : but you are constantly warned, reproved, and 
 recalled into a straighter and surer way. If you still resisted 
 these solemn admonitions,you would increase the guilt of the 
 struggle in which you have voluntarily engaged. Even if your 
 faith fails not, what can you gain by delay? Under what 
 better auspices could you come back to the truth ? What 
 homage and what sacrifice will you bring her ? Youth has this 
 advantage : there is indulgence for its weaknesses, and its 
 repentance is welcome. But you must not forget that your 
 youth began so early, and was so prematurely active, that it 
 has fewer years to run than the youth of ordinary men. 
 
 I put far from me every fear ; but I also check the ardor of 
 my hopes, which would demand for their full justification so 
 generous, so pure, so catholic, an abandonment to the Father's 
 guidance, and which would make so clearly manifest a tender, 
 profound, and unreserved submission. . . . 
 
 I fancy that I detect in these Utopian dreams the heresy of 
 the Millenarians, who attempted to naturalize upon the earth a 
 happiness reserved for other spheres. It is the misplacement 
 of a true idea, of our presentiment of a blessed immortality, 
 after sin shall have been destroyed, and mercy, peace, and just- 
 ice shall have free course. Abandon these vain dreams, dear 
 child. Quit the source of these sudden and violent excite- 
 ments, which are fatal even to talent. Your own has suffered 
 from the excesses by which your mind has been carried away. 
 It has suffered by the conflict between your intellect and your 
 conscience. These two causes combine to render the present 
 a time of transition for your literary powers. Your intellect 
 is casting its skin. Do whatever appears to you hardest. In 
 your present mood, this will be your best course ; and then 
 leave your new wings to grow and strengthen, before you 
 essay a more noble and brilliant flight. 
 
 My dear Charles, will you not reward me by being all that 
 my wishes and my prayers would fain have made you ? I need 
 not say whether or no you have the power to rejoice or afflict
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 261 
 
 my heart ; but, when you awoke in me a mother's emotions, I 
 cannot believe that you condemned me to the sorrow of 
 Rachel. 
 
 Dec. 11, 1833. 
 
 You might well think, my dear Charles, that your letter 
 would trouble me ; and yet it does not rob me of all hope. I 
 can but think that the honesty and purity of your soul will 
 rectify the sophistry of your mind, and that this chimerical 
 compromise between a rash resistance and the submission of 
 a pious and believing heart will yet appear to you an impossi- 
 bility. 
 
 Nothing is so simple, in our weak and imperfect state, as to 
 yield to exaggeration and error. One might say, that nothing 
 is so catholic as error ; for nothing is so universal. What 
 really harms us is our obstinacy, our haughty and absurd attach- 
 ment to our own opinion. My dear child, can it be possible? 
 Will you sacrifice to this idol ? No : you do not dream of the 
 burden you are taking on your shoulders, of the sell-torture 
 you are preparing, of the sweet, inward joy which you embitter, 
 and perhaps banish for a long season. Until self-renunciation, 
 and a pious, tender, frank repentance, has expanded your heart, 
 it can never know true peace or true comfort. 
 
 Doubtless, my dear Charles, it was looking high to take 
 M. de Lamennais for your model : but the Christian can look 
 higher ; and, for him, the humblest path is not only the safest, 
 but the most sublime. And how can you tell how great an 
 inlluence a free, swifl, and truly generous impulse, originating 
 in the very depths of your heart, might have on M. de Lamen- 
 nais ? I know that your wishes and your advice have long 
 agreed with the hopes and expectations of the friends of his 
 fame. I do you full justice in this respect ; but how much 
 
 greater might your power over him have been, if you yourself 
 ad been what you ought ! I believe the great man would 
 have yielded to a pious and tender child ; for it seems to me 
 that tenderness alone can conquer M. de Lamennais, and, like 
 Clorinda, his heart is weak, though his arm is strong. And 
 what incalculable sorrows you might have spared him ! for 
 it is useless to deny that the displeasure and animadversion 
 which he excites are general. The rare exceptions to this 
 mood are furnished by pious persons, who, in their love of 
 peace, would have liked that less publicity, and especially less 
 precipitation, should have attended the commencement of this 
 deplorable struggle. It is the worldly people who are most 
 severe against him here ; first, because they consult only a 
 rigorous logic; and also, because they are not bouud to M. dc
 
 262 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 Lamennais by any gratitude for the services he has rendered 
 them. Neither must you be surprised, dear Charles, if you 
 encounter more harshness yourself than if you had been licen- 
 tious or impious. This severity is the homage rendered to the 
 estimate which had been made of you, and the hopes you had 
 inspired. It is also a result of the engagements which you 
 seemed to undertake. People are judged in this world accord- 
 ing to the stand which they take, and the responsibilities they 
 assume. The world often regulates its demand by the praise 
 it has bestowed ; and the purer and loftier your aim is, the 
 greater the tax which it involves. Your conduct, your senti- 
 ments, and your talents, make you a conspicuous object ; and 
 this is why, my poor, dear St. Sebastian, you are the mark for 
 so many arrows just now. Men are demanding of you, to-day, 
 what they are afraid they awarded you too readily and too 
 easily ; but your noble and sacred vocation was not an- 
 nounced and unfolded in human sight alone. This concurrence 
 of painful circumstances, of manifold trials, which causes me 
 to call your sorrow by the name of that multiform demon of 
 the gospel, Legion, has it not a voice, and does it not say 
 to you, that God is no longer well pleased ? My dear child, 
 accept tribulation ; or, rather, let us accept it, but let us cease 
 to deserve it. 
 
 How can you ask me if I pray for you. My prayer takes 
 on successively the forms of distress, of anxiety, and of a deep 
 sense of weakness and of need. I can do nothing for you, if I 
 cannot render closer and more inviolable the ties which unite 
 you to God and his Church. I have courage to see you suffer ; 
 but I feel that I never could bear, I will not say your defection, 
 but the indifference with which you threaten us. What a 
 mood of mind is that of which such thoughts allow us a 
 glimpse ! Ah, my dear Charles ! if religion should find herself 
 banished from your thoughts, she would soon lose all other 
 power over you ; and your faith, not yet sufficiently tested, or 
 sufficiently instructed to be firm, would soon perish in the new 
 world which your intellect would create. M. Lacordaire, 
 faithful to his original duties, has had no wish but to be a 
 priest. Why should you, whose first inspiration ought to regu- 
 late your destiny as well, why should you desire to be aught 
 but a Christian and a Catholic? 
 
 Adieu, my dear Charles ! may God grant you his blessed 
 light and his precious consolations ! 
 
 Contemporaneous history has already furnished us with 
 the response of M. de Montalembert to these beautiful
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 2G3 
 
 exhortations ; but, were it otherwise, one could not read 
 them without foreseeing their effect. The man who can 
 inspire such language is already worthy to hear it, and 
 capable of rising to its level. 
 
 The Abbe Lacordaire, as we could not have doubted, 
 and as we have just learned from Mme. Swetchine, was 
 not left to hesitate for a moment in his obedience. The 
 difficulties to be removed were not within, but before him. 
 The splendor of his eloquence, and the marvellous effect 
 of his first appearance in the chapel of the College Stan- 
 islas, could not fail to awaken the complex emotions which 
 await all success. Even among those who have an interest 
 in talent, and to whom it should be of service, the minds 
 that it disturbs and irritates must be counted along with 
 those to which it gives sincere delight. And, besides these 
 universal conditions, it is necessary, in this case, to take 
 into account the lingering distrust excited by the earlier 
 connection with M. de Lamennais. These different shades 
 of religious opinion were, of course, represented in the 
 council of the Archbishop of Paris, and were all urged 
 with equal vehemence on M. de Quelen. This prelate 
 naturally stood at the exact antipodes of the Abbe Lacor- 
 daire. He had been educated in a political and religious 
 clique, with which the young orator had never come in 
 contact. M. de Quelen had only regrets where M. Lacor- 
 daire had only hopes. One thing they had in common, 
 rectitude and true nobility of heart. If M. de Quelen 
 was, by nature, somewhat prejudiced against the brilliant 
 editor of " L'Avenir," he was incapable of cherishing an 
 ungenerous antipathy, of resisting a pledge of sincerity, 
 or of disowning or despising aught which might be of 
 service to his divine Master. And, finally, that which 
 might have escaped his own observation and loyal inten-
 
 264 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHIXE. 
 
 tions, was supplied by his profound esteem for Mme. Swet- 
 chine, and perfect trust in her. 
 
 Mme. Swetchine knew this well; and her double at- 
 tachment for MM. de Quelen and Lacordaire kept her 
 constant to the one purpose of bringing them together. 
 "We confine ourselves to the strict truth, when we count 
 the sermons of Notre Dame among the most important 
 services which this true servant of God has done our 
 country and our time, in the silence of her modesty. 
 
 It is, then, no matter of surprise, that the first fragment 
 of the Abbe Lacordaire's writing, found among the papers 
 of Mme. Swetchine, should be addressed to M. de Quelen 
 and herself jointly. It is as follows : 
 
 PARIS, Dec. 13, 1833. 
 
 MADAME, I have the honor to send you a copy of my new 
 declaration, since you are so good as to desire it. At the 
 moment of the termination of this serious affair, I feel deeply 
 the need of thanking y"ou for the good and affectionate advice 
 you have given me, though I had not the slightest claim thereto. 
 I shall remember it as long as I live. A portion of my career 
 is now completed ; and I enter upon a new situation, where, 
 doubtless, I shall encounter external agitations and varying 
 fortunes ; for such is our lot. But I have gained by this expe- 
 rience a wider knowledge of my duty, and a peace which must 
 be lasting ; for it is the peace of God. You appeared to me, 
 between two distinct parts of my life, as the angel of the Lord 
 may appear to a soul wavering between life and death, earth 
 and heaven. But, once in heaven, we shall go no more out. 
 
 I am, madam, respectfully, your most humble and obedient 
 servant, H. LACORDAIRE. 
 
 This letter was accompanied by the copy of one ad- 
 dressed to the Archbishop of Paris. 
 
 After the Stanislas sermons, some months of suspense 
 shadowed the destiny of the orator. He could not be left 
 in a chapel which had become too small for him ; but it 
 was still considered imprudent to open to him a wider 
 career. During the autumn of 1834, M. Lacordaire was
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 265 
 
 walking alone, sad and submissive, in one of the alleys of 
 the Luxembourg, when he was accosted by an ecclesiastic 
 whom he had never seen before. " Why do you live in 
 such idleness ? " demanded this unexpected interlocutor. 
 " Why do you not go and see M. de Quelen ? " The 
 Abbe Lacordaire responded only by a smile, and continued 
 his solitary walk. But, after a few moments' reflection, 
 he was induced to ask himself the same question, and 
 directed his steps towards the Convent of St. Michel, 
 where, since the sack of the Archbishop's palace, M. de 
 Quelen had occupied a humble cell. He was introduced 
 without difficulty, and found the Archbishop alone. His 
 morning had been spent in reading a memoir of the Abbe 
 Liautard, Cure of Fontainebleau. This memoir had circu- 
 lated in the diocese of Paris, and contained some severe 
 reflections on the episcopal administration. After some 
 trite conversational preliminaries, there ensued a silence 
 of a few moments, during which M. de Quelen formed a 
 sudden resolution ; and, bending on the young friend of 
 Mme. Swetchine a tender, grave, and penetrating gaze, 
 " I give you," said he, " the pulpit of Notre Dame ; and 
 you will preach your first sermon in six weeks." M. 
 Lacordaire recoiled with a spontaneous movement of 
 alarm. The Archbishop urged him in vain ; and the con- 
 sent of the eloquent apostle, who felt his power, but shrank 
 from its responsibilities, was only obtained after two days 
 of prayer and meditation. 
 
 His first discourse at Notre Dame at once assured the 
 fame of the Abbe Lacordaire, and renewed the hostility 
 against him. His pride was stirred, and his modesty 
 alarmed, at the same time. After two consecutive stations, 
 in the winters of 1835 and 1836, he renounced the most 
 magnificent audience gathered within the memory of the
 
 266 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 present generation, and formed the sudden resolution of 
 seeking once more the glorious solitude and the grand 
 teachings of the Eternal City. 
 
 The friendship of Mme. Swetchine did not fail him in 
 this time of trial. The first letter of a long correspondence 
 reached the Abbe Lacordaire in a little town in Burgundy, 
 whither he had gone to strengthen and bless the last 
 moments of a beloved brother. 
 
 The second letter is directed to Rome. M. de Lamen- 
 nais had already published the " Paroles d'un Croyant," 
 and was at that time preparing a volume entitled " Les 
 Affaires de Rome." 
 
 TO THE ABBE LACORDAIRE. 
 
 A Rome, via San Nicolo, presso al Gesu. 
 
 PAKIS, Oct. 31, 1836. 
 
 MY DEAR FRIEXD, . . .. I have not alluded to the last 
 threat of M. de Lamennais, because I hoped all the while we 
 should escape. It has not been so. Nothing can check him. 
 The publication of his book is at hand ; but, saving his genius, 
 what can he say that has not been already said ? and is not evil 
 from his lips self-limited ? Perhaps I am wrong ; but I still 
 hope, in the midst of my sorrow, that this tempest will pass 
 over our heads without inflicting any serious damage. M. de 
 Lamennais does especial harm to the wavering and the weak. 
 He has beguiled none, but more than once he has broken the 
 bruised reed and quenched the smoking flax. I have just had 
 
 a long interview with M. , whose book falls far short of 
 
 our expectations. The void left by M. de Lamennais in the 
 circle of superior and pious minds, has deprived him of his sup- 
 port. To think of having one's faith and one's ideas of God 
 dependent on those of any man ! It is idolatry, without its ex- 
 cuse. My dear friend, may you turn to the best possible 
 account this useful time and precious solitude ! There are bet- 
 ter days in store for you yet ; but, for all that, I am sure you 
 will look back longingly upon these. Your studies appear to 
 me excellent. Are there no books which would facilitate your 
 pursuits? Tell me what you want, what you want this very 
 day, without troubling yourself to consider whether you will 
 want it to-morrow. I like well to be your man of business : it
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 267 
 
 does not exclude other relations, and a true affection combines 
 many characters in one. It is multiplicity in unity, as my Ger- 
 mans say. 
 
 After the appearance of the volume in which M. de 
 Lamennais attempted to gratify his resentment against 
 Rome, the Abbe Lacordaire, who was repeatedly named 
 in that work, felt called upon to refute it. This he did, 
 not by direct polemic, but by a voluntary apology for the 
 Holy See, under whose shelter he then was. In this 
 second volume, and in the " Paroles d'un Croyant," M. de 
 Lamennais made his earliest direct appeal, not merely to 
 liberal ideas, but to those passions and transports which it 
 is the aim of the demagogue to excite. It was at the very 
 epoch when the bleeding wounds of Poland were directing 
 general indignation and entreaty towards the Emperor 
 Nicholas, and when the Archbishop of Cologne was de- 
 fending the freedom of the Church at the expense of his 
 own personal liberty. The Abbe Lacordaire had thrown 
 his apology into the form of an epistle, with the title of 
 " Lettre sur le Saint Siege." In the preface we read, 
 
 " One of the gravest errors now propagated concerning the 
 Holy See is, that it is in alliance with absolute government, and 
 that it looks with a hostile eye upon all those nations whose in- 
 stitutions attempt to restore the ancient liberties of Catholic 
 Europe. Rome is thus made a partisan, she who is the mother 
 of all the nations, and who respects all the various forms of 
 government which they have imposed upon themselves, or which 
 may have been created for them by the force of time and cir- 
 cuiu.stance ; and this false accusation necessarily renders her 
 obnoxious to a hatred unmerited by the universal impartiality 
 whose tradition she so faithfully preserves. One needs but to 
 live at Rome, with a watchful and unprejudiced mind, to per- 
 ceive how lofty is the sphere which the Church inhabits, and 
 how far below her feet those earth-born clouds are passing 
 which trouble and divide the individual churches elsewhere." 
 
 Before publishing this development of his ideas, the 
 Abbe Lacordaire imparted his design to his friend, and
 
 268 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 begged her to ask the opinion of M. de Que*len on the 
 subject. Although this tract, devoted exclusively to the 
 defence of the Holy See, was, of all the writings of M. 
 Lacordaire, the one which should have appealed most 
 surely to the sympathies of M. de Quelen, the thought 
 which filled the Abbe's soul, and constantly inspired his 
 speech and his pen, was the reconciliation of Christian 
 authority with freedom ; and hence, questions of expedi- 
 ency, propriety, and shades of meaning, kept arising at 
 every page. Mme. Swetchine replied to the Abbe in a 
 first letter, which has not been preserved ; and in the ensu- 
 ing one we read : 
 
 PARIS, Nor. 26, 1836. 
 
 ... If nothing is yet decided, I beg you to wait for the first 
 courier, thus leaving me time in the interval to consult the Arch- 
 bishop, to whom I shall communicate a portion of your letter 
 to the internuncio, whose opinion I shall also be glad to have. 1 
 If any greater inconvenience be involved in the initiator)' step, 
 which you in your self-devotion are disposed to take, they are 
 most favorably situated for discovering it. When things are 
 once decided, you will go to work in good earnest ; and there 
 is no reason to fear that you are too late. Besides, the storm 
 raised by this deplorable volume has not produced any very 
 great or general unsettling of men's minds. Those who have 
 suffered from it might, of course, have been ruined in a great 
 many other ways ; and the antecedents of M. de Lamennais, 
 his present attitude, and the astonishing facility with which he 
 maintains successively, and in the most dogmatic and resolute 
 manner, two or three absolutely incompatible assertions, tln-.se 
 things are in themselves a powerful antidote to his book. The 
 first part of it shows us the man whom we had seen before, and 
 who, however censurable his unjust bitterness may have been, 
 reminded one of Dante, in the respect for things which mingled 
 with his unjust calumnies against men. So far, M. de Lamen- 
 
 1 Mgr. Lambruschini had been promoted to the cardinalship, and his 
 place tilled by a simple internuncio, Mgr. Garibaldi, a man of loyal, 
 mild, and conciliatory spirit. M. Garibaldi afterwards returned to Paris 
 in the quality of nuncio, and there died in the exercise of his high func- 
 tions, leaving lasting regrets behind him.
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 269 
 
 nais preserves his identity with the man whom we knew ; but 
 the pages which precede and follow the epilogue show him in an 
 extremely disagreeable light ; and, if I dared, I should confess 
 that I see in them the hypocrisy which is born of spite. None 
 but an angel or a priest can fall so low. The so-called justifi- 
 catory parts, on which he relies for the defence of his own course, 
 I found only accusatory. All these encyclical letters are but 
 exponents of the order, the duties, and the virtues which un- 
 created Wisdom brought down to earth. Nowhere do they 
 express any approbation of tyranny. In them a father reminds 
 his children that it belongs to God to remove the ills that weigh 
 upon them, and that heaven is well worth all the patience and 
 submission exercised upon earth. They give us a sense at once 
 of sorrow and restraint. 
 
 Jan. 19, 1837. 
 
 ... I am more than ever convinced that they cannot resist 
 you, if prudence and honesty preside over your determinations. 
 In this case, as in many others, I have seen, my dear friend, that 
 you need but to pause, and that a very few hours suffice to 
 separate impetuous fancies from the calmest and wisest resolve. 
 We never need tremble, except for the interval ; and, thus far, 
 you have deserved God's unfailing interposition there. I come, 
 then, to your letter, in which, under certain very just and proper 
 restrictions, you placed your manuscript at the Archbishop's 
 disposal. That, of itself, was sufficient precaution and guaranty. 
 
 To begin at the beginning, my very dear friend, things have 
 happened on this wise : On the arrival of your manuscript, I 
 read it with delight, fancying that I heard you speak, and yet 
 witli trembling and that sort of internal perturbation which 
 makes one reserve one's judgment even when inspired with 
 confidence, which, in this case, I was not. I found in your work 
 admirable fragments, extraordinary beauty, and a charm which 
 is all your own. The point of view which you adopted is mine 
 also. My complete separation from the world renders me really 
 accessible only to the interests of the Church, whither my life 
 has lied for refuge. I think that we owe her all, and that she 
 owes us only eternal bliss. 
 
 The policy you unfolded seemed to me that of the common 
 Father of tlie faithful, as well of all sects as of all nations; 
 and, generally speaking, my assent to a multitude of charming 
 
 Eissages was as complete as my admiration of them was lively, 
 ut this just and very sincere homage does not prevent me, 
 my dear friend, from perceiving that some parts of your work 
 need revision. Several of the ideas advanced appeared to mo
 
 270 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 hazardous, and wanting in that rigorous precision, that absolute 
 soundness, which one always expects of the priesthood. They 
 were but slight blemishes, easily removed ; and, if you had been 
 here, you would have perceived them, and at once perfected 
 your work. I then determined to consult M. Affre, 1 of all your 
 advisers the most faithful and devoted to you. I talked with 
 him unreservedly about your present position and future pros- 
 pects, and found him equally interested in both. M. Affre 
 took the manuscript with him ; and I begged him, after he had 
 read it, to hand it to the Archbishop, at the same time request- 
 ing an audience with Monseigneur the next day. He unfolded 
 the objections to the publication of the essay which suggested 
 themselves to him, objections which will be stated in lull, and 
 addressed directly to you. He seemed especially struck with 
 the fact that there was no real need of your entering the lists ; 
 the moment being unseasonable, and even inconvenient, for re- 
 newing the struggle with the malevolence of vulnerable imper- 
 fections, and exciting fresh clamors, perhaps, while you ran 
 the risk of compromising what is now secure, your present 
 peace, future usefulness, &c. I replied, that, notwithstanding 
 the high importance which the approval of Rome would make 
 you attach to the publication of this effort, your submissiveness 
 would renounce it without a struggle ; that it was very evident, 
 that, if you had wished to follow your own judgment only, you 
 would have addressed the manuscript to your publisher, instead 
 of submitting it through your friends to competent authority. 
 I said to him, in short, what your own letter has said very much 
 better, and in a manner calculated to satisfy him fully. Finally, 
 1 ascertained from M. Affre, that the limits you set to your 
 compliance had not offended him in the least ; that he was 
 greatly pleased with the sentiments you expressed, and touched 
 to encounter them under any circumstances. I have reason to 
 believe that the Archbishop has given your essay all possible 
 attention, examining it in the most serious and careful spirit. 
 He has had it read to him more than once ; has taken notes, 
 and drawn up a reply. I know that he has read it to M. Affre ; 
 and, when the council met the next Monday, he communicated 
 it to the assembled members. 
 
 I have had occasion, at this time, to remark M. Affre's de- 
 voted adherence to you. He is most affectionate and tender, 
 
 1 M. Affre was at that time grand-vicar of M. de Que'len. It is pleas- 
 ant to recognize here the same spirit of self-devotion which was to 
 increase with each new dignity conferred upon M. Affre, till it rose to the 
 bubliine heights of evangelical heroism.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCIIINE. 271 
 
 and avails himself of every opportunity to place in a favorable 
 light your rights, and the chances which may favor them. His 
 kindly interest encounters an analogous disposition on the part 
 of the Archbishop, whose silence is very easily interpreted, 
 although he does not say much directly. 
 
 The deliberations of Algr. de Quelen and his council 
 resulted in an adjournment ; and there was some reason 
 to fear that the "Lettre sur le Saint Siege" would be 
 entirely suppressed. Mme. Swetchine accompanied the 
 announcement of this sentence by the following letter : 
 
 Jan. 21, 1837. 
 
 . . . Time and grace move quicker for you than for other 
 men ; and sincere and disinterested affection is always sure to 
 be heard. Last evening, before making the final sacrifice, I 
 reread your manuscript once more ; at least, a part of it. The 
 beauties which had struck me each time appeared more remark- 
 able than ever ; and I see these pages of your writing going 
 down in book-form to posterity. What a magnificent applica- 
 tion you make of the grief of Priam ! * 
 
 Nothing could be more happy. And that "heart of man 
 which, incapable of change, makes its deep sorrow eternal in 
 this world " ! And that admirable picture of the spiritual 
 power, its conditions and effects ! A hundred other ideas 
 and illustrations appeared to me equally new and ingenious. 
 I recur to them constantly with that internal recognition which 
 appropriates all that is revealed to it. My intention, my dear- 
 est friend, and, I may add, my consolation, was to retain the 
 manuscript, for it is something to be able to keep watch over 
 one's treasure ; b.ut, having been assured that the Archbishop 
 preferred to have it returned, and his right appearing to me 
 the more indefeasible in that you had submitted the fate of the 
 
 i Speaking of a biief address by Pope Gregory XVI. to the Polish 
 bishops, M. Lacordaire says: " Even supposing (which I do not believe), 
 that, in the hope of appeasing a prince who was irritated against a portion 
 of his flock, the pastor expressed himself too strongly, I shall never feel 
 that Priam did any thing unworthy the majesty of a king and the feel- 
 ings of a father, when he took the hand of Achilles, and uttered these 
 sublime words: 'Judge of the depth of my misery, when I kiss the hand 
 that has slain my son.' " Lettre sur le Saint Sttge, p 627, 8vo. edit.
 
 272 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 paper to him, I entered like you, and with you, upon the path 
 of sacrifice, and sent it to him this morning. M. Afire has 
 shown himself very much your friend on this occasion, a friend 
 who esteems, admires, and loves you. Though he shares cer- 
 tain judgments, and makes certain concessions, and believes 
 some change to be desirable, I see that he is convinced that 
 just now the paper could not fail to have an excellent ellet-t 
 upon a considerable portion of the youthful public, which is 
 eager for your words. Doubtless one of the two camps has 
 been ravaged : but the point is to present an unbroken front to 
 the enemy ; and it is needful, not to exorcise, that is impossi- 
 ble, but to check and allow no foothold to the malevolence 
 which is ever on the watch. 
 
 M. X begged me to tell you that a new attack would 
 
 be made upon you in a fortnight or three weeks. He insisted, 
 and I obey ; but it is with great repugnance that I give you 
 this warning. Only God and conscience should come between 
 a man and his idea ; and this idea he must develop, and perfect 
 as far as may be, out of a pure love of truth, and with no regard 
 to the attacks of malice, which is always prolific. My poor, 
 dear, amiable friend, how can you excite such a sentiment in 
 the heart, I will not say of any Christian, but of any man ? 
 Contradiction has been foretold, and the prophecy is peculiarly 
 applicable at the height at which you stand. Your letter, 
 threatening a long absence, is of course much in my thoughts. 
 You tell me to think and pray over it. I do nothing else ; 
 still I am not at all infected by your convictions. I grant that 
 solitude may be good, useful, perhaps necessary, for you, a 
 solitude which should bring peace, freedom, and self-possession 
 in its train ; but 1 do not approve of isolation, which would take 
 away your supports as well as your barriers, cause you to lose 
 the precious habit of contact with your fellow-men (precious for 
 those who are to live with and for them), and leave your imagi- 
 nation unchecked by the warnings of friendly sympathy, as well 
 as those of severe reason. In all places, and under all circum- 
 stances, the divine word, " It is not good for man to be alone," 
 is applicable. You know, in your noble humility, that you can 
 learn much from others ; but when you shall have become, once 
 for all, a master yourself, by the addition of age and experience 
 to your rare gifts, even then, my dear friend, it will not be well 
 for you to live apart. Whatever you do, you need disciples 
 under your immediate influence, intrusted to your care by the 
 highest authority, or else to be one of a family of brethren 
 witli a common lather at their head. My ardent desire for your 
 perfection has assumed no definite shape. Do what you will, 
 only serve God ! The world, solitude, preaching, writing,
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 273 
 
 church dignities, or utter renunciation, all these things ap- 
 pear to me to suit you, and oiler you rare chances for useful- 
 ness ; every thing, in fact, except that retreat, where, though 
 you would be isolated from all others, I should apprehend the 
 greatest danger from the impossibility of your escaping your- 
 self. 
 
 Jan. 24, 1837. 
 
 ... I see, my dear child, that you do not yet know me as I 
 am. You may grieve and disquiet me by the precipitation, and 
 possibly the thoughtlessness, of your first movements ; but I 
 shall not enfeoff you to anybody. Mistakes, and even faults, 
 would not alienate me from you. The nearer we come to God, 
 the less confidence we feel in the wisdom and utility of our own 
 personal views, while we come to have more and more respect 
 for the very will which we had sought to influence for the good 
 of the individual. I cannot doubt that your soul, so impetuous, 
 so lolly, so pure, so mobile, so simple, so beautiful, is the object 
 of divine love. Providence may subject you to severe trials, 
 but can never abandon you, never. It would have made me 
 happy always to approve your course, but that is not necessary 
 to my affection ; and perhaps the strong shocks to which you 
 subject it, renew with increased intensity my first adoption. 
 And you could think that the ascendency which you allowed me 
 to exercise over you, enhanced for me the pleasure of our con- 
 nection ! My dear friend, nothing could be farther from the 
 truth. If I have sometimes accepted the fact of that influence, 
 it has been without confidence in myself, and only to prevent 
 the ascendency of another. I acted as your ballast, or rather 
 I held you by the skirts of your garment, to slacken your too 
 swift and impetuous movements. Perhaps these are the very 
 attributes with which you would have done well to invest some 
 one at Rome, some one who might have united the two con- 
 ditions which I fulfilled so perfectly : first, that of not being you, 
 either in natural disposition, antecedents, or age ; and second, 
 and more essential, that of loving you better than you could 
 possibly love yourself. 
 
 To complete this picture of truly Christian thought and 
 manners, we need the figure of Father de Ravignan. 
 During the interval before the young exile, who soon 
 became a novice in the Convent de la Minerve, responded 
 to the wishes of Mme. Svvetchine, by the " History of Saint 
 
 18
 
 274 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHIXE. 
 
 Dominic," the " Restoration of the Dominicans in France," 
 and the renewal of his preaching with ever-increasing 
 brilliancy and effect, Mgr. de Que"len had been unwilling 
 to leave vacant the pulpit of Notre Dame ; and Father de 
 Ravignan had carried on the work there commenced in a 
 different manner, but with equal success. This pious and 
 fervent apostle had also felt the need of intimate commu- 
 nion with Mme. Swetchine, and had obtained an introduc- 
 tion to her through their common friend, Father Rosaven. 
 Mme. Swetchine hastened to welcome him. The affection 
 which she felt for Father Lacordaire would have been an 
 additional reason for her eagerness, even if every impulse 
 of sympathy and veneration had not tended that way. 
 Father de Ravignan, on his part, highly valued a hearer 
 like Mme. Swetchiue, and wrote to her as follows : 
 
 Saturday, 11. 
 
 MADAME, I send you a little card, with your name and 
 mine. Will you be so kind as to take it with you, and show it 
 when you come to the places reserved for my family, at the right 
 of the church-warden's pew, facing the pulpit ? 
 
 Our good Eleuthere ' says that you are very much afraid of 
 me. Can it be possible? I would so gladly have you for rny 
 guide and teacher, to check and chide and pray for me ! 
 
 X. DE RAVIGNAN. 
 
 We find the name of Father Lacordaire affectionately 
 and respectfully mentioned by Father de Ravignan in 
 several of the billets which Mme. Swetchine has preserved. 
 In one we read : 
 
 " Father Lacordaire's opinion is precious to me. I believe, 
 with him, that good will result from this crisis ; but will it be 
 only good ? " 
 
 i The AbW Eleuthere de Girardin, grandson of the Marquis de Girar- 
 din, of Ermenonville.
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 275 
 
 And in another : 
 
 "Father Lacordaire has replied by a very friendly letter. 
 You know that I sincerely value his friendship and confidence. 
 I wish I might deserve them." 
 
 At about the same date, Mme. Swetchine wrote the fol- 
 lowing words in one of her own note-books. They re- 
 vive at one stroke the face, so austere and yet so sweet, of 
 the illustrious religieux: 
 
 " ' M. Laine" was the orator of the eyes. He moved and 
 convinced by his very silence.' This remark of M. de Lamar- 
 tine about M. Laine applies equally to Father Ravignan." 
 
 Finally she wrote to M. Lacordaire, 
 
 April 18, 1837. 
 
 You will find people here as kindly and affectionately dis- 
 posed towards you as ever. The Archbishop has always loved 
 you ; and the slightest advance on your part will call forth un- 
 deniable proofs of his affection. Allow for the passage of time, 
 and leave for God's handwriting that page with its obliterated 
 record, a true palimpsest, where one mav restore at will either 
 one of two texts. I heard Father de Ravignan the last time he 
 spoke, and admired him very much. His discourse struck me 
 as carefully and finely arranged ; and the very grandeur of the 
 ideas he reviewed, made his language seem new and rich. His 
 emotion was spontaneous and genuine, and he took his stand 
 on the high ground of authority. One is conscious, indeed, of a 
 slight affectation of manner, and man is never master where he 
 imitates ; but still it is a kind of hon-.age rendered you, and a 
 very touching proof, in my opinion, of that love and zeal for 
 the truth, which induces him to try, in the hope of insuring an 
 all-important success, all possible expedients, even those which 
 contradict his nature, and are least flattering to his self-love. 
 A Christian orator is truly a gift of God ; but, when Father de 
 Ravignao assumes this beautiful office, does he deprive another 
 of it? Is there not room for two? and, notwithstanding all the 
 suffrages he obtains, are there not many needs unsatisfied, 
 many expectations which, thus far, have been disappointed ? 
 One of the most grievous things in this world is the narrowness 
 of absolute praise or blame. " The envious poverty of an ex- 
 clusive love " is universally applicable ; and M. Sainte Beuve 
 spoke the truth even as regards preachers.
 
 276 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Death of the Countess de Se"gur d'Aguesseau. Death of Prince Garga- 
 rin. Letter of Mme. Swetchine on the occasion of a severe order of 
 the Emperor Nicholas. Mme. Swetchine's last visit to Russia. 
 Consecration of her chapel. Her piety. Her charity. 
 
 " A FTER grace, that which gives most efficacy to pious 
 -^_ words is the holiness of him who utters them." 
 This idea of Mme. Swetchine's is applicable to herself, 
 like many more of hers, in which assuredly no thought of 
 self mingled. We have just seen what language she held 
 with her friends. The most trifling acts of her life ap- 
 pealed to them no less eloquently ; and it is important to 
 establish this, that the twofold blessing of her teaching and 
 her example may survive her, and perpetuate that marvel- 
 lous harmony of goodness, which, when once seen, can 
 never more be denied or declared unattainable. Mme. 
 Swetchine lived simultaneously, and with as much sim- 
 plicity as energy, the most fervent spiritual life and the 
 most active worldly one ; and worldly people should learn 
 from her example how much more compatible than they 
 suppose are the duties of their existence with those of 
 fervent piety ; while those who are naturally inclined to 
 consider the life of faith as a mere barren contemplation, 
 may see how it is possible to reconcile the most perfect 
 domestic devotion with all the cares of friendship and all 
 intellectual activity. 
 
 A wound, all the more cruel that she would fain have 
 concealed it, was inflicted upon Mme. Swetchine in the
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 277 
 
 course of the year 1834. Either as a result of obstinate, 
 and as yet ungratified, malice against General Swetchine, 
 or out of jealousy of the favor which allowed him and his 
 wife to reside in France when the Emperor Nicholas had 
 forbidden Paris to his subjects, Mme. Swetchine was rudely 
 surprised, not merely by the recall of her husband, but by 
 a severe sentence of exile, which confined General Swet- 
 chine to any obscure part of Russia he might select, pro- 
 vided it was at a distance from St. Petersburg or Moscow. 
 The order assumed the form of a sentence, and was based 
 upon certain intangible grievances, borrowed, after a lapse 
 of more than thirty years, from his administration under 
 the Emperor Paul. It was in the depth of winter. 
 
 Mme. Swetchine did not, for an instant, dream of evading 
 the decree. She had always resisted the advice of friends, 
 who urged her to realize her fortune, and transport it to 
 France beyond the reach of any arbitrary measure. " I 
 shall never consent to this," she would say : " I wish to 
 leave my heritage intact to my sister and her children ; 
 but, if there was not one of them left in the world, I could 
 not break the last tie which binds me to my country, 
 forsake the peasants whom God has confided to my care, 
 and strengthen in the Emperor's mind the fatal prejudice 
 which makes him suppose, that, in becoming a Catholic, 
 one ceases to be a Russian." This sentiment was put to a 
 cruel test. It dictated these words : 
 
 TO MME. . . . 
 
 PARIS, Jan. 12. 
 
 I feel, my good and dear friend, that you need to be com- 
 forted for our misfortunes. Re-assure yourself, I can no longer 
 be unhappy, in the common acceptation of the word, with all 
 this cortet/e of torments, private irritations, and consuming 
 regrets, which the heart's revolt drags in its train. If I could 
 say as much for my poor husband, 1 should be wretched indeed, 
 but calm, and in a measure comforted. But his suppressed grief,
 
 278 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 so often betrayed by his sad and heart-rending expression of 
 countenance ; the convulsive tears which the suddenness, the 
 difficulties, and the dangers of a long and painful pilgrimage to 
 an unknown goal sometimes wring from him, actually drive me 
 to despair. I had great difficulty in making myself understood, 
 when I told him the fatal tidings. He persisted in believing 
 there was some mistake. It was not until I assured him that 
 the order was issued two months ago, and that your friendship 
 concealed it with a delusive hope, not until then, did the truth 
 come home to him. There was one hour, in particular, during 
 the first day, one hour when he was away, that I was a prey to 
 terrors more agonizing than any other earthly torture. Ordi- 
 narily, his gentle, amiable nature prevails. He is perfectly 
 patient, only absent-minded, absorbed : you can see that his 
 thought is fixed like his suffering. He had a momentary 
 desire to combat my unalterable determination to follow him 
 everywhere ; but then he accepted it, and I may be permitted to 
 say he owed so much to my character and my unfailing devotion 
 to him. I know that both our lives are at stake, and that, at best, 
 this step can hardly fail to shorten our remaining days ; but that 
 is no reason why we should not obey implicitly, and perhaps 
 it is not a sufficient reason for great urgency, or the renewal 
 of more earnest petitions. In the age in which we live, the 
 course we are to pursue must be traced by principle ; and it 
 must be steady, sure, and invariable. It is by profoundly 
 enjoying all the favors which a good God has bestowed upon 
 me here that I have learned how to relinquish them. I leel 
 that I am prepared for the sacrifice. I have no doubt or un- 
 easiness about the power of Providence to make good to me 
 the blessings he withdraws, or to restore whatever is needful. 
 We are under his eye everywhere, and there is no exile for 
 those who love and trust him. 
 
 Thus far, the thing has not been noised abroad, and I ear- 
 nestly desire that this should be deferred as long as possible. 
 I do not wish, and I never will allow, the interest which may 
 be expressed for me to take the form of those complaints in 
 which surprise at so great severity and indirect blame play 
 almost as large a part as compassion. I will not forget in my 
 wretchedness that I am a Russian, in the midst of France. God 
 knows if I have ever forgotten it, or if a murmur, or a com- 
 plaint, orjjxgna criticism, of my sovereign has escaped me. I 
 can lift upmy^nead, and say this with a clear conscience. 
 Under present circumstances, I am more than ever desirous 
 that no word or deed of mine should belie my real feelings. 
 In the spirit of my religion I find a double motive for obedience. 
 My submission has no clement of servility; it is free, like all
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 279 
 
 that springs from the conscience ; it is not even a yoke 
 of necessity ; and I say it, dear friend, without presumption, 
 without boasting, and without ill-humor, I would neglect no 
 means which might obtain of the Emperor the favor of remain- 
 ing here. But, whatever he commands, he shall find in us 
 submissive subjects, faithful, and full of reverence for a will 
 wherein they read the will of Heaven. The letter which my j 
 husband has written to the Emperor only ventures to implore a ' 
 delay until spring. If we do not obtain this, we shall start 
 immediately. The eloquence of this letter consists in the state- 
 ment of my husband's utter want of fortune, in the mention of 
 his seventy-six years, in the strict truth of what he says about 
 my own greatly disordered and enfeebled health, and in our 
 unalterable resolution to obey. 
 
 The order forbidding my husband the two capitals is a 
 strange exception to the identity of the punishment inflicted 
 (I believe) upon him and upon the abettors of the odious con- 
 spiracy of 1825 ; though my husband was animated by senti- 
 ments very unlike theirs, and apparently known to be so, since 
 
 the famous Count , in a moment of frankness, went so far as 
 
 to say that he did not oppose his disgrace with Paul 1., for the 
 sole reason that his presence would have thwarted them in 
 the noble end they were pursuing. This is one of those 
 avowals which are balm to the wounds of an honorable man, 
 and whose memory is ennobling in the midst of humiliation. 
 I am sure you will recognize in this letter the accent of 
 truth, unless, indeed, I have neglected some of the little for- 
 malities which escape people who have been long away from 
 court. 
 
 Mrae. Svvetchine here enters into some retrospective 
 details without interest for the reader, and then adds, 
 
 Our furniture, my pictures and books, none of these things 
 can be transported eight hundred leagues by people who are 
 travelling at random (so to speak), and feel too old, too sad, 
 and too discouraged, to think of an establishment. After the 
 execution of this sentence, we can no longer hope to do more 
 than live from day to day, and pitch our tent until such time 
 as it shall be folded into a shroud. We may be very destitute, 
 but I feel sure that we shall not want for any thing. When 
 one is unhappy, one needs so little ! Adieu, my very dear 
 friend ! If your anxiety for me is constant, my prayers for you, 
 while I live, shall also be unceasing. Each one pays his debts 
 as best he can.
 
 280 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 The friends of Mme. Swetchine at Si. Petersburg did 
 not rest satisfied with their first steps. Using the argument 
 of her beautiful resignation, they obtained, in the first place, 
 a reprieve, of which Mme. Swetchine resolved to avail 
 herself to quit France, cross Europe alone, and go and 
 plead her cause in person with the Emperor himself. 
 
 She set out on the 13th of August, 1834, and arrived at 
 St. Petersburg on the 19th of September. Not until the 
 16th of November was the end of her courageous efforts 
 attained. Her health, which was terribly shaken, did not 
 permit her to leave Russia till the month of February ; and 
 she suffered cruelly in her journey across the North in the 
 midst of the most trying weather. She re-entered Paris 
 at six o'clock on the morning of the 4th of March, the 
 first day of Lent, in 1835 ; ordered her little caleche 
 to stop at the door of the Chapel of Saint Vincent de 
 Paul, Rue Montholon, rendered thanks to God, and 
 received the ashes there ; and at last regained her beloved 
 asylum in the Rue St. Dominique, to sink down ex- 
 hausted under an attack of acute disease, which held her 
 for three months suspended between life and death. She 
 had almost a year of inexpressible anguish ; but those who 
 approached her saw no ruffling of her serenity, no change 
 in her temper or her mind. To the world at large, she 
 seemed to have undertaken a needless journey ; and she let 
 them accuse her in peace of having chosen a romantic 
 method of soliciting a favor which the slightest word would 
 have been sufficient to obtain. 
 
 The year 1836 was marked for Mme. Swetchine by 
 two heavy strokes, which fell upon her in rapid succession, 
 the death of her adopted daughter, the Countess of Segur 
 d'Aguesseau, and the death of her brother-in-law, Prince 
 Gargarin.
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 281 
 
 Threatened from her childhood with a cruel malady, 
 Mme. de Segur had resisted it by dint of courage and the 
 most tender care, only to be cut off in the flower of her 
 youth, after giving birth to two children. In the little 
 southern town of Cahors, General Swetchine, who was 
 hastening to join the Countess de Segur at the waters of the 
 Pyrenees, was met by the tidings of the irreparable mis- 
 fortune. Mme. Swetchine made haste to quit Vichy with- 
 out completing the annual cure which had become, as it 
 were, necessary to her existence. She consecrated herself, 
 as was her custom, to the sorrows by which she was 
 surrounded, without further thought of her personal 
 sufferings. 
 
 " We encounter in lingering maladies," she wrote to the 
 Countess Edling, " the very thing which constitutes the poig- 
 nancy of sudden death : we are taken unprepared. We reckon 
 on time, for the very reason that it has lasted so long ; and 
 getting used to a condition is almost equivalent to being igno- 
 rant of it. I shall finish the autumn at Tours with my hus- 
 band. My constant thought is to soften the sorrow of his 
 grievously tried old age. I see that he grows fonder of my 
 care, and his goodness and perfect sweetness are a part of his 
 great courage." 
 
 Prince Gargarin died in the winter of 1837. He had 
 exchanged, in 1834, the embassy of Rome for that of 
 Munich ; but the change of climate soon impaired his 
 health, and he died in the arms of the Princess Gargarin, 
 surrounded by their five sons, the eldest of whom was 
 attached to his father's embassy, and just entering upon his 
 diplomatic career. 
 
 " My sister," wrote Mme. Swetchine, " whom a secret pre- 
 sentiment forbade me to detain, and whom I saw depart when 
 the roads were in a fearful condition, arrived only to be 
 mortally shocked by the ravages disease had already made ; and, 
 six weeks later, poor Gargarin, still so full of spirit and of will,
 
 282 "LIFE OF MADAME STVETCHINE. 
 
 ceased to live. This affliction opens before my sister a great 
 gulf of perplexities and sorrows. The Emperor has been very 
 good to her; and her return to Russia, where she is to take her 
 children, is all arranged, and will soon take place. Various 
 residences arc proposed to her, Karkof, Moscow, Odessa. 
 The latter arrangement would take her near you, and that 
 would be its good side ; but I have objections to it. The point 
 is to naturalize the children who were born abroad, and I do 
 not think Odessa sufficiently Russian for the purpose. Moscow 
 would afford her, at least as far as country and family are con- 
 cerned, the shelter and protection which were withdrawn with 
 her husband." 
 
 The residence at Moscow was finally chosen by the 
 Princess Gargarin ; and we must henceforth count, among 
 the sorrows of Mme. Swetchine, the separation of the two 
 sisters, aggravated by so great a distance and such heavy 
 responsibilities. 
 
 All these trials turned the soul of Mme. Swetchine more 
 and more toward God. The religious part of her life 
 assumed a regularity and austerity, which the greater 
 part, even of those who saw her constantly, never sus- 
 pected. 
 
 She had obtained from the Archbishop of Paris per- 
 mission to erect a chapel in her house ; and, when she 
 returned from her trying Russian journey, she desired to 
 decorate this sanctuary in a manner more in keeping with 
 her sense of gratitude. She therefore consecrated a multi- 
 tude of precious stones from the mines in Russia. The 
 cipher of diamonds which she had worn as maid of honor 
 to the Empress Mary adorned the pedestal of a silver 
 statue of the Holy Virgin. 
 
 These arrangements necessitated a second consecration. 
 Mgr. de Quelen, who had already blessed the chapel once, 
 and himself administered the holy -sacrament there, was 
 quite willing to consecrate for the second time these walls 
 and this tabernacle, the objects of so pious a worship. He
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 283 
 
 said mass there for the first time on the 15th of December, 
 1835, assisted by the Abbe Lacordaire, who was just 
 beginning his sermons at Notre Dame. 
 
 Notwithstanding this privilege and these indulgences, 
 Mme. Swetchine continued an exemplary parishioner of 
 St. Thomas Aquinas. It was a rare thing for her not to 
 go to early mass. She allowed Herself mass in her own 
 chapel, besides, on the days and hours which suited the 
 friends with whom she celebrated their sad or happy an- 
 niversaries. Often, too, were gathered there as many as 
 the small space would hold to listen to an appeal in behalf 
 of some good work or new foundation. At the time of the 
 revival at Solemse, and the establishment of the Benedic- 
 tines, for whom Mme. Swetchine manifested as much soli- 
 citude as generosity, Dom Gueranger was heard there 
 repeatedly, as well as Father Lacordaire and Father 
 Ravignan. The Abbe Dupanloup, the Abbe Bautain, the 
 Abbe de La Bouillerie, and Father Gratry considered it 
 an honor to perform service and preach in her chapel. 
 Men who had received in her presence the first inspira- 
 tion of grace and truth, such as Father Schouvalof and 
 Father Gargarin, testified their gratitude by their partiality 
 for her chapel. Young girls who had grown up under her 
 eyes desired to place under her auspices the celebration of 
 their marriage ; and last, but not least, new converts, and 
 those who were returning to Catholicism, but who still 
 dreaded the light of open day, came to this little chapel, 
 which to all the wealth of modern art added almost the 
 mystery of the catacombs, to beg for consecration and 
 secrecy. 
 
 None of her sorrows or of her Christian joys found any 
 echo in the salon of Mine. Swetchine, who dreaded above 
 all things any appearance of vanity or ostentation about
 
 284 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 her pious practices. Sometimes, in the midst of an ani- 
 mated conversation, an interlocutor rose in silence, and 
 exchanged an imperceptible sign with Mme. Swetchine, 
 who drew from her pocket a key, and handed it to her 
 without pausing. It was the key of the chapel, where 
 some old friend or some new acquaintance, whose nature 
 had been revealed to het by a great grief or a great sacri- 
 fice, desired to retire for prayer and meditation. 
 
 Whenever Mme. Swetchine herself had a moment's rest 
 and freedom, this was her refuge ; and traces are found, here 
 and there among her remains, of the joys she tasted 
 there. 
 
 MEDITATION. 
 
 The concentration of thought upon self, that other tabernacle 
 of God, implies the weakening of all external influences, if 
 not entire deliverance from them. The movements of those 
 who are not weighted by human attachments and servitudes 
 are all prompt and rapid : our prayers bear the stamp of that 
 moral freedom which renders us more supple and agile to fly 
 whither God calls us. 
 
 Meditation is at once the greatest aid to faithfulness and its 
 greatest joy, constantly renewing the cause of it ; and through 
 meditation faithfulness takes possession of its treasure. Medi- 
 tation is the concentration of all our thoughts and all our 
 powers on one point. It renders all verities present at once, 
 and all their consequences plain. Meditate, says the Master 
 to the Christian disciple, and evil will seem less possible, and 
 good more easy. 
 
 Spiritual drought, when it is not the saint's most fearful trial, 
 is almost always the result of abandoning mind and soul to 
 a sort of heedlessness and dulness. The will which is wide- 
 spread, but not deep, cannot defend itself from attack ; but 
 meditation re-unites all that levity disperses. The microscope 
 gives us a world, a universe, in a single drop of dew. So also 
 there is a world in a single instant of simple, profound, earnest 
 meditation. 
 
 PRAYER. 
 
 Prayer is the infinite ! A single heart that lifts itself to 
 thee, O Lord ! comprehends all hearts. Prayer is eternity, for 
 it embraces all time ; immensity, for it comprehends all space.
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 285 
 
 All which is, O my God ! and all which has been, all men of all 
 climes and ages, their present and future state, their happiness, 
 their love, their virtue, all this infinity of hearts and souls is 
 ivllccted in the humble, fervent prayer, as the celestial vault 
 is reflected in the unconscious wave of the tiniest stream. 
 
 TO JESUS, GOD AND MAN. 
 
 Blessed Jesus ! God and man at once ! oh, may these two 
 natures of thine, united and yet distinct, render us doubly the 
 objects of thy pity ! As God, forget our offences; as man, 
 remember our woes. As God, attract and lift us to thyself 
 unceasingly ; as man, retrace with us the rough paths of 
 thy exile, and be the companion of our good and our evil 
 days. O Jesus ! pardon as a master, and compassionate as a 
 friend ! 
 
 There can be no progress in the Christian life without 
 constant self-examination. Doubtless it may enervate and 
 mislead some weak and ill-regulated minds ; but there is 
 no simple and upright soul that it will not purify and 
 strengthen. Mme. Swetchine was as remarkable for the 
 delicacy of her scruples, as for the energy of her faith. 
 Searchings of heart occupied as large a space with her as 
 transports of prayer ; and so greatly did she dread to see 
 this habitual labor becoming transient and fruitless, that 
 she fixed it in writing, as she did every thing that engaged 
 her serious attention. Here are some fragments which 
 chanced to escape destruction : 
 
 "I said, in writing of some letters that I was quoting, 'a 
 letter which I have this moment received ; ' whereas I received 
 it two or three days ago. Inaccuracy is never excusable ; and 
 this arose from the fact that it seemed to render my quotation 
 more natural. To bend truth to one's caprices or one's neces- 
 sities is a fault, however limited its range. 
 
 "Two painful and seemingly accidental circumstances have 
 led me to new discoveries and reflections about myself. The 
 lamp in my chapel, before the holy sacrament, went out on 
 the Saturday night before Palm Sunday; and that same Palm 
 Sunday I forgot to exchange my Prayer-book for that of the 
 Passion and Easter service, and so, when I went to church, I 
 could not follow the office.
 
 286 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 " Now, first for the lamp. If I am ardent and vigilant about 
 any thing in this world, it is the holy sacrament. I have suf- 
 fered incalculably from apprehension, anxiety, and terror, lest 
 I should offend the majesty of my beloved Guest, the God of 
 love. How many times my feeble heart has well-nigh burst 
 with throbs of love and awe ! But here, as ever, it was the 
 victim of its own improvidence. My sentiments are those of a 
 loving heart; my actions, those of an unthinking mind. Thus, 
 I have replenished my lamp a hundred times when it needed it 
 less than then, and on that day the idea that it might go out 
 crossed my mind ; but I was in that mood when we are dis- 
 posed to accuse ourselves of exaggeration. I told myself, what 
 any one would have told me, that the lamp would last over 
 night ; and, when I found it extinguished, my heart was wrung 
 with a sorrow not free from remorse. My fault in all this is the 
 vagueness, and oftentimes the sluggishness, of the workings of 
 my mind. There is more here than the mere incident. I have 
 indulged myself too much in a kind of lulling of heart and will 
 very unfavorable to the completion of an action, and its ac- 
 complishment while it can be of use. I act thus where I love 
 best. Hinderances and sufferings have helped to form the 
 habit. But it is more than ever necessary that soul should rule 
 my being ; and, since the internal strife is over, all my moral 
 force must be concentrated upon prompt obedience. 
 
 " The incident of the forgotten book is also a test and a tri- 
 fling punishment. If I had said on Saturday evening the office 
 for the eve of Palm Sunday, I must needs have had the book ; 
 and if, in the morning, my mind had been dwelling upon the 
 special significance of the day, I should have been reminded of 
 my neglect. Ah, how few are innocent ! If I studied more 
 carefully in all their consequences the things which I regard as 
 important, I should reap better fruit." 
 
 The following fragment, jotted down, like the others, 
 without any date or mark whatever, at the eiid of a list of 
 commissions, refers undoubtedly to the announcement of the 
 sentence which caused her departure for Russia : 
 
 " On that terrible day, before the hour of the expected visit, I 
 retired into my chapel, and recited among my prayers my little 
 office of the crucifix, praying with unusual fervor and under a 
 very peculiar impression, so much so that I paused on my way 
 out, and, turning back into my tabernacle with an ineffable im- 
 pulse of love, I said, ' O my God ! I never prayed like this 
 before ! ' One hour later, I was in the depths of despair ; but,
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCIIINE. 287 
 
 in the midst of my chaotic anguish, my thoughts recurred to 
 that ravishing prayer ; and I said to myself, ' It was the viati- 
 cum of sorrow.'" 
 
 A feeling like this could not fail to engender charity. 
 Mme. Swetchine considered the two inseparable ; and we 
 will hear her explain her views on this subject to a man 
 singularly fitted to understand her, M. de Melun. 
 
 When he first formed the acquaintance of Mme. Swet- 
 chine, he was still hesitating between his studies of the 
 past, which he proposed to incorporate into a history of 
 the Council of Trent, and that charitable vocation, of which, 
 fortunately for the world, he soon made choice. In 1836, 
 he was reading, simultaneously, Fra Paolo Sarpi and 
 the life of Saint Vincent de Paul ; and Mme. Swetchine 
 wrote thus : 
 
 TO THE VISCOUNT DE MELUN. 
 
 PARIS, July 15, 1836. 
 
 There is a good deal of talk about specialty. It is highly 
 esteemed in our day, and thought to be of exceeding utility ; 
 but I doubt whether God loves it in his saints, and whether 
 virtue of his forming has not universality for its primary 
 characteristic. Thus, in that history of Saint Vincent de Paul 
 which impresses you so much, the world sees only the outward 
 acts, and, in an emergency, would deny the existence of the 
 flame which fed them. It is this very thing which has caused 
 them to find favor in the eyes of so many persons who see only 
 the utilitarian side of charity. Of course, charity ought to be 
 the most natural manifestation of faith ; but the effect is not 
 greater than the cause, and certainly cannot dispense with it. 
 To believe intellectually, and to live upon the reasons we have 
 for believing, is to render homage to God. To relieve the 
 poor is to do him personal service. To love him as he would 
 be loved is a very different thing. The swifter the tlight of 
 the intelligence, the more powerful the thought, the greater the 
 growth of the mind, the more need there is that the growth of 
 piety should keep pace with and counterbalance it. \Vhy have 
 so many sublime spirits gone astray ? It is because, with some 
 degree of integrity and less pride than is commonly supposed, 
 they did not love, and love only could have guided them.
 
 288 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 And leaving the realm of intellect, if we come to that of action, 
 useful, charitable, and even holy in its aim, we shall see, that, 
 unless piety lead the way, it will not lone preserve the desired 
 perfection. The function of action is to break up, divide, and 
 as it were materialize the attention. Read, then, my dear friend, 
 Saint Vincent de Paul, who, with his miraculous conquests, lias 
 always appeared to me like a kind of Christian Sesostris. Read 
 him, that you may make his deeds your own, and conform in all 
 respects to his example. But read besides some other books 
 about the great masters of spiritual life, which will give you an 
 insight into the adorable mysteries of God 1 s dealings with souls. 
 Among the poor and rich alike you will find this practical in- 
 struction very useful. You have not much of the old man to 
 shake off; it is the new man who must be born and guided 
 aright. 
 
 It is but strict justice to say, that the whole life of Mme. 
 Swetchine was inspired by the sentiments she expresses 
 here. Her charity was not a careless and mechanical 
 practice. She consecrated to it all her strength and all 
 her skill. 
 
 A confidential servant, who was with her all the last 
 thirty years of her life, and whose affecting devotion re- 
 mains intimately associated with his mistress's memory, 
 penned, after her death, the following artless lines, whose 
 very naivete augments their interest and their charm : 
 
 I should have liked, monsieur, if my health had not been so 
 bad, to furnish you with some notes on the last years of her 
 whom I had the honor to serve. The more I think of it, the 
 more I am convinced the dear lady shortened her days by her 
 desire to serve her kind in all ranks of life, and by making her- 
 self the slave of all. Here is a proof of it : 
 
 One morning, when I was serving her breakfast after her 
 return from mass, she said to me, "lam in a great hurry. I 
 have a great deal of writing to do, and am very much behind- 
 hand. I shall close my door to everybody without exception. 
 I beg," she repeated, " that you will admit no one." But, 
 when she rose from the table, she added, with a smile, "How- 
 ever, if anybody comes who absolutely needs to speak to me, 
 and especially if there are any poor people who have come from 
 a distance and have no time to call again, you must announce
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 289 
 
 them." A moment after she entered the drawing-room, she 
 came back to say, "I had quite forgotten that Mine, such a 
 one wanted to see me alone." Half an hour later came two or 
 three letters soliciting private interviews ; then a person from 
 the country, who stopped as she passed, and begged to see her 
 just one minute ; but the minute lasted till some one else came. 
 Then, at three or four o'clock, her doors were opened to every- 
 body, and they came in crowds to stay till seven. I saw her 
 seat herself at table, worn out with the fatigues of the day ; and 
 people were even then coming to speak with her before her 
 soiree commenced. She used often to rise from the table before 
 she had finished her dinner. This would last from six o'clock 
 in the morning till an hour, and sometimes two hours, after 
 midnight. To be sure, she lived in the midst of friends who 
 loved and admired her; but they never could see that her 
 strength was wearing out, especially in the last five or six 
 years. Ah, monsieur, everybody was delighted to see and 
 hear her ; for I do not think any one can deny that her conver- 
 sation was charming. She had a talent which very few people 
 possess, a different language for every class she met. She 
 knew so well how to console the poor in their misery, the sick 
 in their domestic trials ; to raise the spirits of the sorrowing ; 
 and to sustain mothers who came to ask advice about their 
 children. Those who went to her for comfort I used to see come 
 out from her presence with peace in their faces. 
 
 If these few lines, monsieur, can be of any service to you, 
 I shall be most happy to have given proof 'of all my gratitude 
 to my benefactress, so deeply regretted by me and mine. 
 
 CLOPPET. 
 
 This kindness to the poor, attested by the irrefragable 
 testimony of Mme. Swetchine's most trifling actions, was 
 not confined to waiting for and welcoming them. Her 
 greatest treat was to visit them at their homes. Alms- 
 giving was not, with her, the mere fulfilment of a duty. 
 She liked to give pleasure besides doing good, and her 
 heart always added something to what her hand gave. 
 There is no one who does not need some trifling super- 
 fluity. When Mme. Swetchine wanted to plan a diversion 
 or a pleasure for a poor person, it was done with the same 
 
 19
 
 290 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHIXE. 
 
 care and precision that she displayed in the loftiest efforts 
 of her intelligence. For some she would bring a few pots 
 of flowers ; for others, framed engravings, recalling favorite 
 subjects, battles, for example, if there happened to be an 
 old soldier in the family. For one she selected books ; 
 for another, some convenient piece of furniture ; for the 
 infirm, a good roomy arm-chair. One New-year's Day 
 she quietly withdrew from all the attention by which she 
 was surrounded, and went to pass several hours with 
 some poor parents who had just lost two sons in rapid 
 succession. 
 
 She had adopted, as the principal centre of her charities, 
 the quarter of the Gros Caillou, without explaining to any 
 one why she gave it the preference. The venerable cure 
 of St. Thomas Aquinas, the Abbe Serres, was questioned 
 on this subject, and replied : " I cannot say ; but all I 
 know of her inclines me to believe that it was only be- 
 cause she had a better chance of remaining unknown 
 there. In our own faubourg, St. Germain, her name 
 would soon have been known. It would have passed 
 from porters' lodges to antechambers, and from ante- 
 chambers to drawing-rooms. It would have been matter 
 of common conversation. She would have got a reputa- 
 tion for charity, and that is what she did not want." 
 
 Whenever a great joy awoke in the depths of her heart 
 renewed feelings of gratitude to God, Mme. Swetchine 
 used to hasten to the Sisters of the Gros Caillou, and beg 
 for another pauper, receive him from their hands without 
 expressing any preference or personal choice, and often 
 gave him a name which recalled to her the circumstances of 
 the adoption. One day, when, after a protracted season 
 of anxiety, she had received a letter from the Princess 
 Gargarin, she sent Cloppet to the Sisters of the Gros
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 291 
 
 Caillou ; and when he came back, and stated the result of 
 his characteristic mission, Mme. Swetchine exclaimed, joy- 
 ously, " My dear Cloppet, we will call this one ' Ma Soeur.' " 
 She sent the same message on the day when the French 
 and Russian war closed above the ruins of Sebastopol ; and 
 to the poor family which fell to her lot she gave the name 
 of "La Paix." 1 
 
 What Mme. Swetchine could do in the way of private 
 charity did not satisfy her. She felt the need of associat- 
 ing her benevolence with the might of collective work. 
 The Convent of the Madeline, founded by the Abbe* Des- 
 jardins for the assistance of poor young girls, was in debt 
 during the last years of the holy priest's life. Mme. 
 Swetchine came to his assistance ; and, after the death of 
 the Abbe Desjardins, contributed perseveringly for the 
 completion of the foundation. A converted English lady 
 had devoted herself to teaching in the Convent of St. 
 Michel. Mme. Swetchine was intimately associated with 
 her for twenty years, and lavished upon her encourage- 
 ment and assistance. She engaged in several charitable 
 works set on foot, or prosecuted, under the Restoration. 
 But the vigilance and assiduity which she brought to all 
 undertakings inspired her with the desire of a more ex- 
 clusive consecration; and Mme. Swetchine devoted herself, 
 with especial affection, to alleviating the condition of the 
 deaf and dumb. Her overflowing heart was keenly sensi- 
 
 1 The anecdote of " Ma Soeur " and " La Paix " was published in an 
 eloquent obituary article; and its author will pardon me for pointing out, 
 in this place, a slight error, which is not without interest, as il 1 list rat ing 
 her character. However unimportant these charitable deeds, they wre 
 not made known, as the author of the obituary intimates, by Mme. Swet- 
 chiiK i 's mentioning them to one of her friends. She admitted no one to 
 this kind of confidence. Facts of this sort were divulged only by servants 
 after her death.
 
 292 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 ble of the sadness, and even danger, of the isolation 
 inevitably consequent on this cruel infirmity. 
 
 In 1827, the administrative council, which was then 
 intrusted with a general oversight of the institution for 
 deaf mutes, created, on the motion of M. de Gerando, two 
 committees of patronage, one of men for the boys, the 
 other of women for the girls. To these committees was 
 assigned the care of providing protectors for the pupils, 
 when they came out of the state institution. Mme. 
 Swetchine was the first president of the ladies' committee. 
 Her inquiring mind, so curious about all new methods, 
 could not fail to be kindled, as she beheld that marvel- 
 lous communication of soul with soul, and the blessed 
 knowledge of God imparted without the hitherto indis- 
 pensable aid of speech. That miracle of the healing of 
 the deaf mute, constantly renewed and perpetuated, thanks 
 to the charity of a priest of Jesus Christ, touched a heart 
 so profoundly tender towards all the sorrows, and happy 
 in all the consolations, of others. From that day, Mme. 
 Swetchine was won to the cause of the deaf mute. Mile. 
 Mechin, who deserved the title of mother to these poor 
 children, was employed by Mme. Swetchine ; but she liked 
 to refer the honor to Baron Hyde de Neuville, who was no 
 less devoted to the work than herself. The directors had 
 thought it proper to reserve one of the finest rooms in the 
 asylum for the meetings of the committee. Mme. Swet- 
 chine, as president, proposed to use this room for an 
 infirmary, and transferred the meetings to the small cham- 
 ber of the directress. In 1830, she felt it to be her duty 
 to retire from the presidency, that she might not attract 
 attention to her name, at the moment when her compatriots 
 were being recalled to Russia ; but she preserved the same 
 tender interest in the numerous family of her adoption.
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 293 
 
 She was thoughtful of the recreation of these poor chil- 
 dren ; and being desirous of brightening, for a brief 
 interval, their doubly precluded imaginations, she ex- 
 hausted the resources of splendid breakfasts, and all the 
 games which could be introduced into the house. One 
 day, she had a fancy to take them herself to the diorama, 
 and the spectacle of their profound astonishment and can- 
 did admiration made this one of the brightest fete-days 
 he ever enjoyed. 1 In 1829, she had recommended to 
 Mine, de Montcalm a young deaf mute, who supported 
 a widowed mother by her own unassisted labor. The 
 noble sister of the Duke de Richelieu afforded them abun- 
 dant aid ; but when, in 1832, the cholera marked her as 
 one of its first victims, Mme. Swetchine reclaimed what 
 she called the legacy of Mme. de Montcalm. 
 
 A situation was procured for the infirm mother ; and the 
 young girl, whose name was Parisse, Mme. Swetchine re- 
 ceived into her own house. She adopted the habit of 
 taking the young mute with her on her morning rounds, 
 and fbund it singularly pleasant. It was not necessary to 
 speak to her, and she did not feel humiliated by silence. 
 " With Parisse, I can fancy myself alone," said Mme. 
 Swetchine, when any one expressed surprise at her sin- 
 gular choice of a companion ; " and yet, in case of need, I 
 have an arm to lean upon, and affectionate assistance at 
 hand, which does not interfere with my freedom." Thus, 
 
 1 It is needless to describe the gratitude of Mine. Swetchine, when, 
 deferring to a wish repeatedly expressed, Mgr. Sibour instituted a regular 
 religious service for all the deaf mutes scattered about in different parts 
 of 1'aris. The Church of St. Koque, where the Abbe L'Ept!e had been 
 buried, was declared their parish; and instruction was given there every 
 Sunday, in the language of signs, to a sadly numerous crowd, whose 
 eyes reflected with singular brightness the vivacity of their impressions. 
 Mme. Swetchine was present at the first inauguratory mass, which was 
 celebrated by Mgr. Sibour in person.
 
 294 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 she always tried to make it appear that she was the person 
 obliged rather than the benefactress. 
 
 Every one knows the clashing which cannot fail to occur 
 where servants are numerous. The misunderstandings 
 arising from the difficulty of mutual comprehension ren- 
 dered the jars uncommonly frequent in this case. Mme. 
 Swetchine was often obliged to interfere, and insist upon an 
 indulgence, which her example alone could not enforce. 
 " I love you all," she used to say to her people ; " but un- 
 derstand, you would all go before Parisse. She is the 
 most unfortunate, and much must be forgiven her." 
 
 And here again Mme. Swetchine furnishes a precious 
 model for us to study. It is a rare thing to know how to 
 keep the mean between cold indifference and the kindness 
 that degenerates into weakness. In Mme. Swetchine, 
 even compassion was invested with that perfect fairness 
 and good sense which seemed inseparable from her 
 nature. Parisse had sterling qualities, which won the 
 esteem and love of her fellow-men ; but her very virtue, 
 like her gait and her style of beauty, was a little haughty. 
 When she had deserved severity, when she had assumed 
 what Mme. Swetchine laughingly called her "grand air 
 of an outraged queen," her patient mistress appealed to 
 one of the patrons of Parisse, Mile. Ferment, a teacher 
 in the institution for deaf mutes, who possessed the secret 
 of making herself loved, as well as the art of making her- 
 self understood. This common anxiety for an obscure 
 unfortunate led to a correspondence, of which we present 
 some fragments, a correspondence insignificant in itself, 
 but which ceases to be so when we realize its moral value, 
 and reflect that these notes were penned at stolen moments, 
 in the midst of all the conflicting thoughts and interests of 
 a life like Mme. Swetchine's.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 29"> 
 
 PARIS. 
 
 MY DEAR MLLE. FERMENT, It was impossible for me to 
 send Parisse to you at the appointed time. I only reached 
 home at half-past eleven, and we are perishing with cold. 
 I beg you to tell Parisse to have confidence in me. Her new 
 room will be at least as pretty as the old, if she will only leave 
 me time to arrange it. What I want is, that she should cease 
 to grieve over the matter, rather than hide her grief. I do 
 assure you, that the bare idea of giving her pain gives me a 
 great deal, and makes me feel very ill at ease. 
 
 The trouble I give you does not console me for my own, 
 as you can readily believe ; and I should prefer a different 
 sort of interchange. 
 
 My dearest, you are my only help. Your goodness will 
 have it so, and I am compelled to impose upon it. I must beg 
 of you, then, to reprove Parisse seriously; for she is beginning 
 quite to forget herself. In consequence of fresh scenes with 
 my chambermaid, and probably from the mistaken idea that 
 I have taken part against her (as if there were any choice 
 between two angry combatants), she has, for three days past, 
 carried her ill-concealed irritation against me to the verge of 
 rudeness. At first, I kept perfect silence ; but, on the occasion 
 of a fresh misapprehension on her part, she flew into such a 
 rage that she really deserved to be sent away. Be so good as 
 to inform her of my very decided displeasure. She never 
 offended me so deeply before, and it is but just that she should 
 know it. 
 
 Tuesday. 
 
 It is Parisse who will take you these lines. If I dared, I 
 should beg you to make her hear reason about her flurry of 
 to-day. Her chimney smokes, or so she says, and it has put 
 her out. But really I cannot help it. The chimney is excel- 
 lent. It is made after the Swedish fashion, the only one which 
 the room allows. My husband, at one time, ordered it made 
 for himself ; and if it smoke occasionally, which happens to all 
 earthly chimneys, it can be only while the wind blows from a 
 particular quarter, or when it has been a long time without a 
 fire. However, I shall have it examined and swept again. 
 I think this a reasonable precaution ; but I do not think it 
 desirable to alter a chimney which fulfils every condition of 
 successful operation. A thousand pardons, dearest, for adding 
 my vexations to your own sufferings. If it was words, and not 
 signs, I wanted of you, I would make every other consideration 
 bend to your need of resting your poor dear chest.
 
 296 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 Thursday, 6 o'clock. 
 
 . . . Alas, my dear ! this poor Parisse is doing like all the 
 rest of the world, spoiling her own happiness. She lets her 
 faults encroach upon a multitude of good qualities. Pardon 
 me for troubling you ! If I did not, something else would ; 
 for such is life ! 
 
 Another paroxysm ! There have ceased to be either inter- 
 vals or exceptions to her fits of passion. She has just been to 
 me with some pieces of bread in her hand. I did not know 
 what to understand by this, unless it meant that she could live 
 with nobody. Mile. Gladie is at least as much the object of 
 her wrath as M. Henri. The two sexes are on a level. Nothing 
 remains but to leave her to make the experiment of freedom. 
 Be so good as to tell her that I will allow her a pension of five 
 hundred francs, which she will continue to receive after my 
 death ; and that, since she finds herself so unhappy, she has 
 only to abridge her martyrdom. If you knew a deaf mute 
 with whom she could agree, or a house which would receive 
 her, it would be very kind of you to mention it. Even in 
 that case, it may be only an experiment ; but it may be also 
 that she will profit by the lessons of experience. 
 
 Here, my dear, is a little word which came to me yesterday, 
 in my retreat, from Cloppet : 
 
 MADAMK, I do not send Parisse to you to-day : Mile. Ferment 
 wants her to-morrow. She eats almost nothing, is very sad, and 
 I have talked to her a great deal. She appears to understand 
 her position, and is very anxious to submit to you, and be recon- 
 ciled with everybody. She is disposed to shake hands witli who- 
 ever will. I think, if they persist, she will fall ilL Your devoted 
 servant, CLOPPET. 
 
 I am the more readily touched, as you may guess, because 
 I am punishing myself as much as her. 
 
 This test was final ; and poor Parisse finally acquired 
 strength enough to avoid open conflicts, both with others 
 and herself, so that she deserved one day to see her own 
 features engraved by an imperishable burin 1 behind the 
 face of her benefactress. 
 
 1 ;l I saw, while we were watching the sad setting of that beauteous 
 star, her beloved mute, following her with her eyes from an adjoining 
 chamber, the vigilant sentinel of a life which had been so lavish of itself, 
 and whose light went out with faithful friendship on the one side anil 
 grateful poverty on the other." Funeral Oration on Mine. Swelckine, 
 by Father Lacordaire, " Correspoudant " of Oct. 25, 1869.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCIIINE. 297 
 
 During Mme. Swetchine's summer sojourns, either at 
 watering-places or in the environs of Paris, one of her 
 greatest pleasures was to make the acquaintance of tho 
 Sisters of Charity in the place, and assume the care of 
 some poor family. At St. Germain, she had been a 
 constant visitor at the House of the Ladies of St. Thomas 
 de Villeneuve. A young novice, from a convent of that 
 order in Trinidad, had been forced by unhappy circum- 
 stances to cross the sea; and Providence had guided her to 
 Mme. Swetchine, who, not content with placing her in 
 the Convent of St. Germain and paying her board, went 
 frequently to see her, and, after her death, raised a pious 
 monument to her memory. 
 
 In 1838, the cure of Chantilly introduced her to a well- 
 educated family, which had fallen into extreme poverty. 
 An aged mother, Mme. Louvos, was supported by the 
 insufficient labor of her daughter, not yet seventeen years 
 old. Mme. Swetchine did not rest satisfied with the as- 
 sistance she afforded them both during the autumn she 
 passed at Chantilly. In the month of January, she ob- 
 tained a place for young Eliza Louvos, as assistant direc- 
 tress of a work-room. 
 
 " There," writes Mile. Louvos herself, "what good did she 
 not do my soul by her affectionate counsels ! When, some- 
 times, I had doubts about my vocation, and thought to change 
 my situation, then it was that I perceived how brightly the 
 flame of charity burned in her soul. How kindly she pointed 
 out of what use I could be to the young persons intrusted to 
 me, and exhorted me to patience ! " 
 
 Mile. Eliza Louvos is now directress of one of the 
 principal work-rooms in Paris. 
 
 At Vichy, where Mme. Swetchine went for ten or 
 twelve successive years, her charitable life was as full as 
 in Paris ; and there her memory is still revered.
 
 298 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 As soon as she arrived at Vichy, the poor told the news 
 to one another, and gathered about her. Among them, 
 she distinguished a little lame child, disabled in one arm, 
 epileptic, and actually repulsive in appearance. To him 
 she devoted herself. The poor child's intellect was very 
 feeble. His parents lived in a parish at some distance 
 from Vichy, and allowed him to beg from door to door, 
 aimless and solitary, through all the fashionable season. 
 Mme. Swetchine was moved by this sad state of vaga- 
 bondage, and placed him at the hospice at Vichy, where 
 she paid his board, and took all pains to insure his kindly 
 treatment and Christian instruction. Gilbert's heart was 
 more deeply touched than might have been expected from 
 his condition, which apparently bordered on idiocy. His 
 gratitude to Mme. Swetchine soon became actual worship. 
 They could induce him to do any thing by pronouncing her 
 name, or reminding him of her words. Mme. Swetchine 
 wrote out for him a rule of conduct, adapted to his various 
 needs and sufferings. Gilbert was sometimes unfaithful to 
 it ; but, when he found the fashionable season approaching, 
 he would seize his little book, and set about obeying its 
 injunctions in every particular. Nothing could equal his 
 joy at the advent of Mme. Swetchine. Informed of her 
 expected arrival by Mme. Chaloin, the proprietress of the 
 house where Mme. Swetchine stopped, and who has 
 given us these details herself, Gilbert was on the spot 
 when she descended from her carriage. And Mme. Swet- 
 chine would pat him caressingly on the shoulder, and often 
 said to Mme. Chaloin, " If there was any hope of his cure, 
 I should take him with me to Paris." She gave him some 
 of her husband's clothes, which they fitted to his figure, 
 and which made him so proud that he said one day to 
 the Sisters at the hospice, " My good Sisters, I intend to
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 299 
 
 offer myself to the handsomest and richest girl in Vichy. 
 Nobody will refuse me when they know that I am a 
 protege of Mme. Swetchine." On the day of her de- 
 parture, Gilbert was the last to take leave of her, and 
 would then stay for hours motionless upon the pavement 
 opposite the Hotel Chaloin, with his tearful eyes fixed 
 upon the closed blinds. After her return to Paris, Mme. 
 Swetchine kept herself informed about him, by corre- 
 spondence with the Sisters at the hospice. Instead of im- 
 proving, Gilbert's health became more and more wretched. 
 Mme. Swetchine, who had never expressed a generous 
 thought without translating it into action, recalled her 
 emotions on witnessing the pious interment of the poor in 
 Italy, and wrote thus to the Superior of the hospice : 
 
 PARIS, Oct 16, 1849. 
 
 MY DEAR SISTER, Mme. Chaloin has already given you 
 my message ; and I desire to confirm and complete the request 
 which she made in my name about Gilbert, in case of an event 
 which, at my age, I should not anticipate were we not con- 
 stantly outstripped by those who should survive us. If that 
 event occurs, my dear Sister, these are my wishes about poor 
 Gilbert's funeral. I request that the holy sacrament be admin- 
 istered in presence of the body, and his remains taken to a 
 cemetery by four bearers, accompanied by an ecclesiastic. I 
 further request that twelve masses be said on his behalf, and 
 a very simple stone placed over his grave, so that I may know 
 the spot, if, which is very unlikely, I should live longer than he. 
 In case my death precedes his, I beg that the same ceremonies 
 may be observed, and the expense defrayed from the legacy 
 which I shall leave him. 
 
 Notwithstanding the care of the physician-in-chief of 
 the Vichy waters, M. Prunelle, 1 who transferred to the 
 poor young man a portion of the attachment which he felt 
 for Mme. Swetchine, Gilbert died at the age of twenty- 
 
 1 The old deputy from Lyons.
 
 300 LIFE O* MADAME SWETCHIXE. 
 
 five, in the month of October, 1841. The Superior has- 
 tened to communicate the fact to Mme. Swetchine, who at 
 once replied by the ensuing letter : 
 
 CHANTILLY, Oct. 28. 
 
 MY DEAR AND GOOD SISTER, I cannot tell you how deeply 
 I mourn. I was truly attached to that poor child, whose good 
 and pure heart must, in its simplicity, have been pleasing to our 
 Lord. I am comforted by the thought that he is released from 
 his cruel sufferings, and especially by the increased piety which 
 struck me even last summer. My dear Sister, your indulgence 
 and commiseration, together with those of your companions, 
 an<l, above all, your example, have been the most efficient 
 means employed by divine pity for his salvation. Thank you 
 once more for the kindness you have shown the poor dear boy, 
 on whose intercession I greatly rely. We have changed parts. 
 Yesterday I was one of his props : to-day he is one of mine. 
 
 The little Hotel de Beaujolais was and is still kept by 
 Mme. Jarry, who also fulfilled the duties of bathing-woman. 
 The heart of this humble woman had divined the heart of 
 Mme. Swetchine, so accessible was she to all. When she 
 was questioned about her intercourse with Mme. Swet- 
 chine, she had not heard of her death, and she burst into 
 tears. " Ah ! " she cried in a flood of weeping, " Mme. 
 Swetchine was a holy woman, a true saint ! There are 
 no more such ! The more unhappy you were, the more 
 she loved you. She thought more of a poor person than 
 of a prince. She would not have harmed a fly. If one 
 fell into her bathing-tub, she would lift it out delicately on 
 her finger, and say to me, ' My dear friend, put it back in 
 the sun. It is one of God's little creatures.' I knew that 
 she suffered a great deal in the bath, though she did not 
 complain ; and I never hurried her ; and I used to say to 
 the men of the establishment, ' She is not like other 
 ladies ! She must be kept alive, and have all the time she 
 wants. Is she not worth them all ? ' But they did not
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 301 
 
 feel this at the establishment ; and, when I went away, the 
 other bathing-women hurried her, and then she did not go 
 there any more. The moments I passed near her were the 
 happiest of my life." 
 
 It may be imagined that Mme. Swetchine's charitable 
 activity stopped here. We have not begun to give an idea 
 of it. She was simultaneously, and as it were doubly, en- 
 gaged in Russia and in France. Her peasants guar- 
 dianship over whom she never would resign were the 
 objects of her unceasing watchfulness and constant corre- 
 spondence. Her friends in the interior of Russia kept her 
 informed of all that was done on her estates, and of all 
 obedience and disobedience of her orders ; and it is plain 
 from their replies, that she who questioned was much 
 more concerned about what might affect the well-being or 
 moral dignity of her families, than about the increase 
 or diminution of her own income. We see her unceasingly 
 promoting and facilitating manumission, preventing or 
 making amends for the disastrous transportation of serfs 
 from one estate to another, and infecting others with her 
 own perseverance and energy in prosecuting reforms of 
 every kind. We give one short fragment from the count- 
 less letters addressed to her on this subject : 
 
 TO MME. SWETCHINE. 
 
 I have at last received a confidential letter from one of the 
 fugitives from your estate of Nijni. I gave him an audience 
 on my balcony, under cover of a cloudy, moonless night, that 
 we might not be overheard by the people who were sitting up 
 in the antechamber." 
 
 Another passage borrowed from the same correspondent 
 explains the necessity for these precautions : 
 
 " To give you a specimen of the thoughts and hearts of these 
 peasants, whom people are pleased to believe sunk in sensualism,
 
 302 LIFE OP MADAME STVETCHIXE. 
 
 I will quote a few words from one of your people from Saratov, 
 when they came to my house in a body on my arrival here. 
 After their first outburst of joy at seeing me, they began to re- 
 count their griefs and wrongs, the exactions, the forced labor 
 on the roads, the compulsory marriages ; and their eyes filled 
 with tears. I asked if they had complained of these abuses to 
 M. X. ' No : M. X. does not ask us, and we do not dare to 
 open conversation,' was the general reply. A tall young man, 
 with a marked countenance, who had already impressed me by 
 the strong emotion depicted on his face, came out of the group, 
 approached me, and said, with his eyes full, ' Who of us would 
 
 dare speak the truth ? I am the son of Ivan , whose life 
 
 has been one agony. He was twenty-five years in Siberia, sep- 
 arated from all his family and his sons, because, with the best 
 intentions, he revealed certain facts against the surveyor. The 
 same thing will happen to us if we speak the truth.' The un- 
 fortunate young man was right. 1 myself labored for three 
 years and a half to get poor Ivan back iroin Siberia. He came 
 four years ago, but he is only the shadow of himself." 
 
 The crisis which property in Russia is at this moment 
 going through, and the magnanimous measures decreed by 
 Alexander II. in connection with the nobles of his realm, 
 impose great reserve upon this question. This fragment 
 will suffice to give some idea of what Mme. Swetchine's 
 thoughts and wishes would have been if she had lived. 
 
 Along with these sources of sorrow, Russia also fur- 
 nished her consolations to Mme. Swetchine. Almost every 
 year, old friends from St. Petersburg and Moscow came to 
 pass the winter in Paris ; and their constant presence in 
 the salon of the Rue St. Dominique bore witness to the 
 charm which allured and held them captive there. Here 
 were seen the aged Count Romanzof, one of the most 
 distinguished courtiers of the Empress Catherine, who 
 undertook the journey after he had entered upon his 
 ninety-sixth year ; Count Xavier de Maistre ; the Count 
 and Countess Strogonof, son and daughter-in-law of 
 Baron Strogouof; Princess Wittgenstein, daughter of 
 Prince Bariatinsky; Prince Nicholas Troubeskoy, and
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 303 
 
 Prince Michael Galitzin. Occasionally the Princess Gar- 
 garin came to share her sorrow with her sister, and display 
 the progress of her sons. The Countess de Nesselrode 
 never allowed many years to pass without seeing Mme. 
 Swetchine, at least for a few days. When the relations 
 between the court of Tuileries and that of St. Petersburg 
 were such that her presence at Paris might have been pro- 
 ductive of inconvenience, Mme. de Nesselrode met Mme. 
 Swetchine at Metz or Nancy, and enjoyed for a few weeks 
 a monopoly of her friend's society, or summoned her across 
 the frontiers of France to Baden or Frankfort. Finally, 
 the Countess Edling consented to suspend for a time her 
 vast agricultural enterprises, and come to Paris ; and when 
 her niece, Maria Stourdza, had attained her eighteenth year, 
 Countess Edling secured to her her fortune, and informed 
 Mme. Swetchiue that she desired one of her nephews for 
 an adopted son. The marriage of Prince Eugene Gargarin 
 and Mile. Stourdza set the final seal upon the affection of 
 these two friends ; and to this day Mansir holds in venera- 
 tion those two dear memories, and worships them with the 
 same grateful, filial love.
 
 304 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Revolution of 1848. Mme. Swetchine's opinion of the events and per- 
 sonages of this epoch. M. de Radowitz. Donoso Cortes. M. Ber- 
 ryer. Death of General Swetchine. Crimean war. Death of the 
 Emperor Nicholas. 
 
 THE affections of Mme. Swetchine made her so 
 thoroughly French, that it is natural to mark the 
 periods of her life by the vicissitudes of our history. No 
 mind foresaw and judged them more clearly than hers. 
 No heart did they move more deeply. All the dissensions 
 and struggles which preceded the Revolution of February 
 found an immediate echo in the salon of Mme. Swetchine. 
 Those who yielded to too great a sense of security, and those 
 who justified their sentiments and their conduct by the 
 most gloomy predictions, were there in equal force, and 
 vied with one another. Mme. Swetchine wavered some- 
 what between the two parties ; for she had fewer illusions 
 than the one, and was less impatient than the other. 
 When the catastrophe of the 28th of February, 1848, 
 occurred, it did not greatly astonish Mme. Swetchine, 
 although, like the authors of the Revolution themselves, 
 she had foreseen neither its character nor its date. Her 
 first and greatest consolation in the midst of the universal 
 anxiety was to commend the efforts, the resources, the 
 courage and fortitude, of a great people, easily surprised, 
 but prompt to re-act by a sudden inspiration against its 
 own imprudence, and triumphing over anarchy without 
 violating liberty. To the contemplation of this spectacle
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 305 
 
 she was ever essaying to turn minds over-irritated at their 
 own defeat, or unduly discouraged by the public calami- 
 ties. 
 
 On the 5th of March, she wrote to the Countess de 
 Nesselrode : 
 
 ..." Two noble decrees have already issued from the nine 
 days' chaos, the abolition of the penalty of death for political 
 offences, and the suppression of the oath, which means the sup- 
 pression of perjury. There is supreme good sense in removing 
 this obligation from the French people, which was getting 
 thoroughly used to falsehood. These two decrees evidently 
 emanate from M. de Lamartine, to whom, despite my past and 
 present grievances, I cannot deny lofty views, civil courage, 
 and a generous inspiration. Some one remarked the other day, 
 that, in his ' Girondists,' he had erected Jhe stage on which he 
 himself was to appear. Now, whatever may have been the in- 
 fluence exercised by this work, he spares no pains to remedy 
 the harm he has done ; and it would be impossible to show 
 one's self cooler and firmer than did he at the point of the bayo- 
 nets which touched him the other day at the Hotel de Ville." 
 
 After the revolutionary movement had communicated 
 itself to all parts of Europe, she wrote to the Countess 
 Chreptowitch, then residing at Naples : 
 
 PARIS, April 6, 1848. 
 
 MY DEAR HELEN, When we see what is going on from 
 one end of Europe to the other, does it not seem as if a gigan- 
 tic and universal design were being accomplished ? It is easy 
 to see the mistakes that have been made ; but these cannot 
 account for such simultaneousness, such concert, and <wh 
 rapidity. Do not think for a moment that nothing is needed 
 to arrest these events, save a keener eye and a stronger arm. 
 In the presence of great public acts, men rarely look other 
 than small. To-day all are powerless before the irresistible. 
 
 Glancing at the state of England, which was agitated, 
 but not disordered, Mme. Swetchine added : 
 
 "Battles whose issue astonishes the victors no less than the 
 vanquished are less rare than is commonly supposed. What 
 strikes me in the contests of Englishmen is a certain substantial 
 
 20
 
 30G LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 quality about the passions brought into play. You feel, that, 
 be their cause true or false, they venture neck or nothing ; that 
 they throw themselves bodily into public affairs, and make them 
 their own ; and that the interests they are called upon to defend, 
 have been, as a general thing, transmitted through many gener- 
 ations, and have passed, as it were, into their blood. This 
 state of things differs widely from the factitious and superficial 
 character of new constitutionalities, where, when individual 
 interest is not the decisive agent, the vague fancy of the mo- 
 ment plays so great a part. Surely I have no desire to abase 
 France before her rival ; yet one can but feel that habits of 
 political activity have become a second but real nature in 
 England, while in France they are only a conventionalism. 
 The result is, that the witnesses of a national struggle in France 
 follow it with a merely intellectual interest ; while, in England, 
 the general pre-occupation is contagious, and, in lieu of simply 
 observing, one is inevitably involved." 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS DE NESSELRODE. 
 
 PARIS, March 18, 1848. 
 
 It has been said with some justice, that the Republic entered 
 by a door which was accidentally left open ; but it Avas so left 
 because no one dreamed of such an intrusion. Nothing can be 
 more idle than making distinctions between the republicans of 
 yesterday and the republicans of to-day : for the truth is, that, 
 before the Revolution, there were radicals, communists, and a 
 multitude of generally lawless individuals, but no republicans, 
 properly speaking ; that is, none who advocated a republi- 
 can form and system of government. The republicans of to- 
 day are perfectly well aware, that the Republic, as a form of 
 government, had not even an imaginary existence. It is there- 
 fore unripe, and we cannot but realize it ; for the measures 
 taken to force this fine fruit to maturity are sufficiently harsh. 
 During the first few days, the relief from our fright and aston- 
 ishment were so great, that we seemed comparatively able to 
 breathe ; but the free air did not long continue to circulate in 
 our lungs, and we speedily entered upon the path of intimida- 
 tion. 
 
 Mme. Swetchine here enumerates the various causes for 
 the decline of the monarchical party, and adds : 
 
 ..." We must also reckon the handful of men whose num- 
 bers may increase, and which lives on the memories of the 
 Empire, personified in Prince Louis and one Prince Murat, who,
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCIIINE. 307 
 
 they say, is crossing the Atlantic in great haste, if he be not 
 swimming. If, then, civil war is possible in this country, it is 
 so only in the very bosom of the Republic, between the 
 elements of '89 and those of '93, between the government of 
 base violence and that of public reason, between the agrarian 
 law and respect for property, &c. It is now some time since 
 the symptoms of this grand division declared themselves. 
 Ye.sterday, Monday, the 17th, there was a momentary explosion. 
 There is considerable agitation even to-day. The Garde 
 Mobile, the National Guard, and that of the Suburbs, composed 
 almost entirely of people who have something to lose, have 
 finally assumed an attitude of resistance. It is much to be 
 feared, that bloody collisions will result, and that we shall no 
 longer be able to say, with M. de Chateaubriand, ' It is mar- 
 vellous ! fire everywhere, and nothing burning.' 
 
 " All violent struggles entail misfortune; but, even if these 
 must come, I can hardly believe that we are in danger of 
 massacres, or even of judicial assassinations, like those of the 
 first Revolution. It is not merely the abolition of the death- 
 penalty which re-assures me. It is that the wind does not blow 
 from that quarter. If there is slaughter, it will only be of 
 purses which are already sick. 
 
 " Our protection thus far has been an undefinable instinct 
 of honor and delicacy ; for, with the mass of men, this instinct is 
 not rooted in duty, and has no positive moral sanction. It is a 
 species of good sense, which, thus far, has resisted the most dis- 
 organizing doctrines ; but who knows if it will always be in 
 the ascendant ? It is only well-grounded principles which can 
 contend against the mind's ju.st apprehensions, and such princi- 
 ples do not exist. It must also be confessed, that the merit of 
 not having interfered with the rights of others is considerably 
 diminished by the mere absence of resistance. All are provided 
 for, and all do as they list ; and, between these two terms, there 
 is no room for discontent. A further distinguishing peculiarity 
 of this time is, that there is no trace, among the people, of that 
 brutality which is so repulsive in the memorials of the Republic 
 of '93. Armed like brigands, and in all the haste of tlu-ir 
 effervescence, they form a line to let you pass ; they (juit the 
 pavement to make room for you ; and, if they address you, it is 
 with the most benevolent politeness. All this implies great 
 national qualities ; but qualities are only natural disposition, 
 which is an insufficient defence. Virtue alone treads firmly in 
 the right way, and inspires us with perfect confidence." 
 
 After the terrible days of June, Mine. Swetchine 
 wrote :
 
 308 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 " What a shock, and what an internal palpitation, so profound 
 a commotion leaves behind ! This one has lost the character 
 of an emeute. It is civil war in its most tragic aspect. Never 
 before were the barricades known to cost the lives of six 
 generals. I fear, my dear friend, that the evil is as deep-rooted 
 as it is striking and salient. It is no longer merely a war 
 between parties, and it may be that the duration of any ac- 
 quired ascendency has become impossible. Reverence was 
 very weak before ; but now the fact that a man seems to deserve 
 some esteem excites implacable hostility. Thus, General 
 Cavaignac, who has come out very nobly in these last conflicts, 
 and whose words and deeds and character are of so lofty an 
 order, already begins to encounter an underhand opposition ; 
 and the malevolence which formerly concealed itself in the 
 hearts of his rivals now tinges public sentiment. But thus far 
 and the fact gives me a little hope religion, the clergy, and 
 every thing connected with them, have had the singular good 
 fortune to escape this disposition of the great majority. The 
 death of our Archbishop was, of course, a perfectly exceptional 
 case ; but never in my life have I seen so vast and general an 
 impression, or one which so united in one service of veneration 
 men of the most radical differences. It is now acknowledged, 
 even by those who are least friendly to Christianity, that, in 
 the midst of disorders which threaten society with dissolution, 
 the Church alone is alive and undisturbed. The theories which 
 oppose her action are not all vanquished ; many prejudices still 
 exist ; but her representatives have won back the favor they 
 had lost, the opposition to them has no longer the prestige of 
 numbers, and the most indifferent do not repel the priest. lie 
 is seen to mingle with all classes of the population, but only 
 with the aim of doing good ; and he is scrupulously circum- 
 scribed within the limits of his ministry. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS DE VIRIEU. 1 
 
 PARIS, July 7, 1848. 
 
 . . . If we have had our terrible battles, you too, they tell me, 
 have been on the alert ! It would seem as if now-a-days, there 
 was but one alternative, either to undergo evil or to dread it. 
 Still I think the situation is improved. The bad passions which 
 have cost so much blood have by no means changed their 
 nature : but they have aroused forces which are conscious of 
 themselves ; and confidence on the one hand, and the discourage- 
 
 1 The Viscountess de Virieu, tufe de Lostanges.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 309 
 
 ment of failure on the other, work together in favor of order. 
 I know, alas ! how little reliance is to be placed on this. No- 
 where on earth, dear madaine, is that poor human race, which 
 St. Augustine once called the great invalid, a unit ; but in 
 France it is less so than elsewhere. Here every thing is carried 
 to extremes, and side by side with the most monstrous crimes 
 you see the most sublime acts of sell-devotion. What is true 
 of deeds is also true of sentiments, and France often reminds 
 me of that Arabian coast which produces nothing but poisons 
 and healing herbs. Great resources always co-exist with this 
 remarkable vitality ; but every thing depends upon the choice 
 of means. 
 
 The pre-occupation of the public mind has not prevented us 
 from mourning a death which must have touched you very nearly. 
 The great and growing weakness of M. de Chateaubriand had, 
 to some extent, prepared us for the end ; but his death is deeply 
 felt, and a just homage is very generally rendered to his merits. 
 The letter in which the Abb Deguerry announces the event to 
 the editor of the Debats, contains some noble and beautiful 
 sentences, which fairly portray the sentiments by which his life 
 was governed, sentiments which the whim of the moment was 
 only occasionally able to obscure. 
 
 After the election of December 10, Mme. Swetchine 
 wrote : 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS DE 
 
 Were you not surprised at that Napoleonic recrudescence ? 
 at the proofs of a passion which the people had unconsciously 
 borne in its breast for thirty years ? It must be acknowledged, 
 that there is a large admixture of hatred in this love, and that 
 horror of the Republic is in a great measure responsible for 
 this re-action toward the memories of the Empire. As a matter 
 of individual preference, the great majority of superior minds 
 would have chosen General Cavaignae : but, while rendering him 
 personal homage, some dreaded what are supposed to be the 
 little weaknesses of his character ; others, his avowed prefer- 
 ence for the republican form of government ; and almost all, his 
 past connections, which he has never been willing to break off. 
 I reject in this connection, as utterly absurd and calumnious, 
 the suspicion lurking in the minds of some, that he was in league 
 with the anarchists. What a strange destiny ! General < ';i- 
 vaignac has been rejected by the healthy party in France, out 
 of distrust of his ultra-liberalism; and he is the only man in that 
 same France who is utterly execrated by socialists and com-
 
 310 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 munists of every date and description. It is more than prob- 
 able that he would have fallen under their blows, if he had 
 arrived at the Presidency. But, in the midst of it all, his praise 
 is, with a few exceptions, in every mouth ; and, for myself, he is 
 the only man of the time who has appeared to me to be always 
 upright, sincere, loyal, consistent, and perfectly honest. There 
 is something antique about his virtue ; and, if his country had 
 been in any sense republican, she would have given him her 
 confidence. 
 
 As to his competitor, he is a transparent body, through which 
 every one sees what he wishes, and confounds the image with 
 the medium. The impulse which led to his choice was, per- 
 haps, sufficiently immoral; and he is treated as the cross-eyed 
 man treats the object he wishes to observe, fixing his eyes on 
 quite another point than that which he seems to regard. 
 Whither will this system lead ? Are not these combinations 
 which seem to penetrate so far into the future attended by great 
 deceptions ? It is the light and wisdom of this world, and it 
 will be curious to watch their effects. 
 
 Foreign affairs and diplomatic discussions had always 
 possessed a peculiar charm for Mme. Swetchine. Her 
 personal acquaintance with almost all the statesmen of 
 Europe added another valuable element to the general 
 superiority of her views. The Countess de Meulan, sister 
 of Count Turpin Crisse, sister-in-law of M. Guizot, and 
 thoroughly versed herself in all the politics of the time, 
 rarely allowed a day to pass without calling at the Rue St. 
 Dominique. The Princess Lieven, although a less fre- 
 quent guest of Mme. Swetchine's, set an equal value upon 
 the moments passed by her side ; and we find proof, in a 
 little informal billet, that she would sometimes have pre- 
 ferred her society to that of an English diplomat. 
 
 FRIDAY, June 29. 
 
 MY DEAR MME. SWETCHINE, I am in consternation. I 
 hear that you were up yesterday ! If I had known it, I would 
 have sent away my Englishman, an old friend of mine, and an 
 interesting and valuable man. Will you forgive me? I shall 
 come and ask pardon in person to-day or to-morrow. Permit 
 me to embrace you. THE PRINCESS LIEVEN.
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 311 
 
 Among the representatives of foreign diplomacy at the 
 epoch at which we are now arrived, two men in particular 
 arrested the attention of Mme. Swetchine, and testified a 
 sincere enthusiasm for her. They were M. de Radowitz, 
 who was on a temporary mission to the French Govern- 
 ment; and Donoso Cortes, the Spanish ambassador at Paris. 
 M. de Radowitz, a Westphalian by birth, had served under 
 Napoleon, and distinguished himself in the French ranks at 
 the battle of Leipzig. On the fall of the Empire, he entered 
 the Hessian service as tutor to the young electoral Prince. 
 But this soon became too narrow a theatre for his energies, 
 and he returned to his native land. Berlin tendered him 
 a brilliant welcome ; and Frederic William nominated him 
 general of the staff. ' His native talents, strengthened by 
 experience gained in foreign lands, soon attracted the 
 attention of the Prince-royal, who was more imaginative 
 in politics than his father, and who, without precisely as- 
 suming an attitude of opposition, gave some hint of the 
 tendencies, half mystical and half constitutional, half feudal 
 and half revolutionary, which were to distract his reign. 
 General de Radowitz, banished from the court without 
 being utterly disgraced, for having sided with the Catholics 
 and the courageous Archbishop of Cologne, Droste de 
 Vischering, became more and more the representative of 
 the principles of liberty and conscience in the conservative 
 and monarchical party. This position, which he main- 
 tained with prudence and dignity, assigned him an eminent 
 place, when the Prince-royal, who had ascended the throne 
 in 1840 under the name of Frederic William IV., granted 
 to his subjects the rudiments of a representative govern- 
 ment. 
 
 The troubles in Switzerland and the Sunderbund war, 
 precursors of the Revolution of February, had disturbed
 
 312 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 and divided the statesmen of Germany, France, and Eng- 
 land. General de Radowitz was sent to Paris, in 1847, to 
 arrange a plan of concerted action between Prussia, Aus- 
 tria, and France. He had fully succeeded ; and, at his 
 farewell audience, these words were spoken : " Be assured, 
 and assure the King, your master, that two things are im- 
 possible, either in France or through her influence, revo- 
 lution and war." On his part, General de Radowitz wrote 
 to Berlin, " The throne of France now rests on foundations 
 of adamant." 
 
 TVe can understand, therefore, how bitterly the Prussian 
 envoy was undeceived when the Revolution of February 
 burst forth and triumphed under his very eyes. He 
 yielded to a few hours of despondency ; then, one of the 
 Westphalian colleges having chosen him its representative 
 at the Parliament of Frankfort, General de Radowitz re- 
 appeared in the front rank of politicians ; and his word be- 
 came law among them. 
 
 While the glow of generous ideas, and a search for a 
 possible reconciliation between old regimes and modern 
 aspirations, still prevailed, the eyes of all Germany were 
 fixed on General de Radowitz. There was in his politi- 
 cal course, as well as in his noble countenance, stamped 
 with an air at once soldierly and meditative, much to re- 
 mind one of the career, the influence in Italy, and the 
 talents, of Count Balbo. Both acted rather on ideas than 
 on facts. Both saw themselves shipwrecked by the sudden 
 irruption of disorderly elements in 1848. Both died sad- 
 dened in their ardent and sincere patriotism ; despairing, 
 not of the future of which they had dreamed, but of the 
 generation in which they had prematurely demanded the 
 realization of their dream. 
 
 Mme. Swetchine has described as follows the lively im-
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 313 
 
 pression which she received from the presence of M. de 
 Radowitz in Paris : 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS DE NES8ELRODE. 
 
 PARIS, January, 1848. 
 
 ... I must tell you, my dear friend, that I have renewed the 
 experience of a well-nigh forgotten pleasure in meeting a person 
 of your acquaintance, M. de Radowitz, whose mind and views 
 have re-awakened all the enthusiasm of my youth. I may em- 
 ploy here the word sympathy, which indicates a communion of 
 natures without defining its degree. As I listened to him, I 
 seemed to re-ascend the stream of time, and revisit that world 
 of inquiry, so little to the taste of Frenchmen, where my 
 thought served her first campaign. Yet I have never seen a 
 stranger produce more effect than M. de Radowitz outside 
 political circles. I saw that all the distinguished men who heard 
 him were as much impressed by his personal superiority as by 
 the new turn he gave their minds. They say that M. Guizot 
 and M. Mole* were particularly struck by it. The reason is, 
 that, beneath all that intellectual force, we feel, we discern the 
 moral authority, without which, however lofty the range of ideas, - 
 human nature has no dignity. 
 
 When General Radowitz had left Paris, the regrets of 
 
 * O 
 
 Mme. Swetchine followed him to Berlin, where the Count 
 de Circourt was then residing in the quality of minister 
 plenipotentiary : 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS DE CIRCOURT. 
 
 PARIS, March 26, 1848. 
 
 . . . You may guess, my dearest, whether I think of you ! 
 The trouble of one day is only held in check by the menace of 
 the next. I ought to have profited by the departure of M. de 
 Savigny ; ' but he was in such melancholy haste, that I had no 
 means of so doing. There is one person whom I shall never 
 forget, and that is M. Radowitz. How far he was from fore- 
 seeing the rapid succession of events which is bearing us on in 
 the same old way ! But in these times it is the good minds and 
 the jiure hearts which do not divine the future. 
 
 1 M. de Savigny, a Frenchman by birth, and one of the most learned 
 men in Berlin.
 
 314 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCniNE. 
 
 It was more than sympathy it was profound attach- 
 ment with which Donoso Cortes inspired Mme. Swet- 
 chine ; and he was never more fully and freely eloquent 
 than in her presence. 
 
 Donoso Cortes was in his fiftieth year when he was ex- 
 changed from the emhassy of Berlin to that of Paris, 
 under the title of Marquis of Valdegamas. The salon of 
 Mme. Swetchine was one of the first in which he took on 
 that grand French naturalization, attested by so many re- 
 grets at the fatal, and, alas ! rapidly approaching hour of 
 his death. Type of the ardor of the South, quick in his 
 impressions, impetuous in his gestures, Donoso Cortes 
 glided easily from the freedom and naivete of the most in- 
 timate conversation to the loftiest flights of philosophic 
 thought. It was in Mme. Swetchine's drawing-room that 
 he was pleased to describe the circumstances of his return 
 to the Catholic faith ; and this story, verified by the mov- 
 ing accents of his voice, left so deep an impression on the 
 mind of his hearers, that one of them conceived the desire 
 of preserving the confession in writing ; and this souvenir 
 will constitute one of the most affecting pages of the biog- 
 raphy of Donoso Cortes: 1 
 
 "I had arrived at middle life," said Donoso Cortes, one even- 
 ing, at the salon of Mme. Swetchine; "and the reading of 
 French works, following on that of Latin authors, had destroyed 
 my belief in Christianity : still I considered myself one of the 
 most honest of men. I accompanied the Queen Christina to 
 Paris, and there became acquainted with a Spaniard, Don 
 
 Manuel He was a simple-minded man ; upright, not 
 
 at all brilliant, very religious, and devoted to good works. I 
 watched him, and said to myself, ' It is strange ! I am certainly 
 an honest man ; Don Manuel is an honest man : but his honesty 
 
 1 It is Count de Bois-le-Comte to whom we owe the editing of this 
 document, from which I borrow only the principal circumstances.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 315 
 
 is different from mine. There is something in his honesty 
 which I cannot account for, and which, I think, renders it supe- 
 rior to mine. Whence conies it ? ' I mentioned it to Don 
 Manuel himself. He replied, with simplicity, ' I am a Christian, 
 and you are not.' The remark struck me : I often thought of 
 it ; but I had not quite made it out, when my brother fell ill at 
 Madrid. I hurried to Spain ; and, when I arrived, I found his 
 situation very dangerous. Once, when I was nursing him, I 
 repeated my conversation with Don Manuel. ' Yes, 1 said he, 
 ' he gave you the true reason.' He then explained the remark ; 
 and what he said touched me so deeply, that, when he died, a 
 few days later, I thought more of his confessor, whom he be- 
 queathed to me, than of his fortune." One of those present 
 remarked, " Certainly, M. 1'Ambassadeur, it was by God's great 
 mercy that you were so suddenly enlightened when you had not 
 thought to seek for light. Was there any peculiar circumstance 
 in your life through which you might be said to have deserved 
 such a favor ? " " I do not recall any," replied Donoso Cortes : 
 "my life has been very commonplace. Yet perhaps one feel- 
 ing of mine has been pleasing to God. I have never regarded 
 the poor man who sat at my gate as any other than my 
 brother." 
 
 The death of Donoso Cortes caused a sad sensation 
 throughout Paris ; and the edifying details of his illness 
 will not soon fade from the memory of Christians. Sister 
 Rosalie and Mme. Svvetchine lavished their care upon him ; 
 and the latter, excusing herself to a friend for having de- 
 layed to write, thus alluded to this irreparable loss : " For- 
 give me ! my eyes are out of practice. At my age, they 
 can only weep." 
 
 Meanwhile political events in France were advancing 
 toward a new crisis. On the one hand, attempts were be- 
 ing made to club together all the monarchical forces, under 
 the auspices of the conciliated House of Bourbon ; on the 
 other, there were preparations to escape the dangers of a 
 renewal of republican sway, by a Napoleonic dictatorship, 
 the precursor of a second Empire. The situation was fully 
 revealed during the grave debates which followed a propo- 
 sition for the uniform revision of the republican Coustitu-
 
 316 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 tion. These last accents of the tribune deeply moved the 
 soul of Mme. Swetchine. 
 
 TO THE DUCHESS DE ROUCHEFOUCAULD. 
 
 PARIS, 1851. 
 
 ... As for Berryer, it seems to me impossible to deny that 
 he surpassed himself. There was a concentrated splendor in his 
 words ; a summing-up of all the elements which constitute the 
 orator. It was that might of genius which all obeyed in the 
 ages of antiquity. The speech of Berryer might have created 
 a people, as Amphion built cities. 
 
 At the very time when silence was about to fall upon 
 the realm of politics, private sorrow invaded the heart of 
 Mme. Swetchine on every hand. She had recently lost 
 the Countess Edling. The Countess de Nesselrode was 
 suddenly removed in the summer of 1849. In the midst 
 of the most overwhelming grief, Countess Chreptowitch 
 thought at once of her second mother ; and, by her tender 
 forethought, a friend was despatched with the tidings to 
 Vichy, where Mme. Swetchine was at that time taking the 
 waters. On the very evening previous, she had received 
 a letter from her friend, who, when she wrote, was in per- 
 fect health. She therefore made light of all the anxiety 
 which the messenger endeavored to awaken in her mind, 
 and was crushed by the truth when it was at length made 
 known. She let fall only these words, in a low voice, in- 
 terrupted by sobs : " Taken away suddenly ! like my 
 father ! like my father ! " Paroxysms of heart-rending 
 grief continued to recur at brief intervals. A blow no less 
 sudden struck down General Swetchine, before the very 
 eyes of his wife, on the 23d of November, 1850. 
 
 General Swetchine was ninety-two years old when he 
 was smitten by an attack of apoplexy, at eight o'clock in 
 the morning. There had been no premonitory symptoms,
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 317 
 
 and Mme. Swetchine had just commenced reading aloud to 
 him the contents of the morning paper. 
 
 The General was a venerable old man. His face wore 
 a serene and constant expression of perfect goodness. He 
 loved his wife devotedly, and spoke of her always with the 
 most tender veneration. Mme. Swetchine responded by 
 an' affection full of respect, and by unwearying care. If 
 their minds were not on a level, their hearts were equal in 
 delicacy and generosity. The General was finely educated. 
 He read much, and told a story well ; and, in his unpre- 
 tending conversation, bonkommie was pointed by keen good 
 sense. During the last fifteen years of his life, excessive 
 deafness kept him from his wife's drawing-room at the 
 hours when it was invaded by the world. It was painful 
 to him not to hear conversations, which he would not have 
 consented to interrupt by calling the attention of the 
 interlocutors to his own infirmity. Mme. Swetchine would 
 then have closed her doors: but to this he opposed the 
 most strenuous resistance ; and, for several years, he com- 
 pelled himself to pass an hour or two in the drawing-room 
 each evening, taking no part in whatever passed there, 
 but showing extreme politeness to every guest, that he 
 might dissipate, by this apparent community of interests, 
 the scruples of Mme. Swetchine. 
 
 The General walked a great deal, inspecting minutely 
 all the monuments and public works of Paris, and liked 
 to witness the experiments and exhibitions of every new 
 branch of industry. He received the most assiduous care 
 from one of his old aides-de-camp, M. de Tiran, who thus 
 testified his gratitude for hospitality long ago shown him 
 at St. Petersburg ; and, finally, he had a lured reader, who 
 kept him informed in all recent publications, and whose 
 place Mine. Swetchine herself took for two or three hours
 
 818 LIFE OF MADASfE SWETCHINE. 
 
 each day, however ill and weary she might be. The 
 General shared his wife's sentiments toward all the friends 
 with whom she was really intimate, and was particularly 
 attached to Father Ravignan and Father Lacordaire ; but 
 he never manifested the slightest doubt of Russian Ortho- 
 doxy, or intention of going over to the Latin Church. 
 His sudden death was a thunderbolt to Mme. Swetchine. 
 The first outburst of her grief was heart-rending. She 
 refused to believe in her misfortune ; and the physician 
 feigned efforts, which he knew to be useless, in order to 
 give her time to recover her self-command. The first of 
 her friends who hastened to the spot found her upon - her 
 knees beside the lifeless body of the General, her frame 
 rent by convulsive sobs. It was only by kneeling beside 
 her, and by repeated supplications, that they succeeded in 
 winning her attention, and leading her away to her own 
 room. The difficulties in the way of burying the General 
 in the little cemetery of Montmartre were surmounted ; 
 and scarcely a month elapsed without her visiting her 
 husband's tomb, accompanied only by Parisse. She would 
 remain there for a long time in prayer ; and more than 
 once, when she arose, she indicated, by a gesture to her 
 mute companion, the place where she desired one day to 
 rest beside him. It was a great comfort to her to pro- 
 nounce his name, and dwell on his memory. A touching 
 example of her devotion is contained in the following 
 words, written from Vichy, to the Duchess de Rouche- 
 foucauld, on the summer after the General's death : 
 
 August, 1861. 
 
 . . . Thanks, my dearest, for your kind letter, which came in 
 place of the farewell visit you should have paid me before you 
 left Paris, and did me a great deal of good. Every thing 
 sounds better in solitude when all are preparing to depart. 
 There is indeed something solemn in every adieu ; and the
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 319 
 
 same may be said of returns, of those at least which place 
 you between two dates, as in a frame which incloses all sorrow. 
 Two years ago, I learned in this place the death of .Mine, de 
 Nesselrode ; and this year I come alone. Some poignant and 
 heart-rending memory is awakened at every step. 1 dwell 
 within the same walls ; but I cannot leave my chamber without 
 pausing before a door which opens for me no more. It is just 
 the same as at Paris. I have escaped nothing. A deep-seated 
 grief defies all external influences. 
 
 Many now comprehended, for the first time, the place 
 which General Swetchine had occupied in the life of his 
 wife. For herself, she more and more earnestly besought 
 of God himself to fill the cruel void left by that departure. 
 Until now, she had suppressed her longing for retirement, 
 because she would not leave her husband. From this 
 time, she systematically encouraged it. She curtailed year 
 by year her hours for reception, prolonged her residence in 
 the country, and consecrated the months of October and 
 November to an almost absolute seclusion in one of the 
 convents of Paris. She preferred, above all others, a house 
 of the Augustine nuns, where the view from her modest 
 chamber recalled some of the wide prospects, crowded with 
 religious associations, which she had enjoyed so much at 
 Rome. 
 
 A last and unlooked-for sorrow still awaited Mme. 
 Swetchine, in the brief collision between France and Rus- 
 sia. " For the rest of the world," she often said, " it is 
 war : for me, it is civil war." Her grief was keenest when 
 military operations appeared to menace both Sebastopol 
 and St. Petersburg: 
 
 "This entrance of the squadron into the Baltic," she wrote 
 to the Countess Chreptowitch, "produces an extraordinary 
 I'Ht-rt upon me. I trust the country is no more vulnerable there 
 than elsewhere : but there is the sky under which I have lived ; 
 those are our rivers ; it is the point with which my idea of my 
 country is most thoroughly identified ; and I feel as if they 
 were aiming at my heart."
 
 320 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 Mme. Swetchine's mourning for the Emperor Nicholas 
 was real, and not conventional. On the 31st of March, 
 1855, she wrote to the Princess Mary of Baden, Duchess 
 of Hamilton : 
 
 ' ' I had scarcely taken breath when there fell the thunderbolt 
 of the Emperor's death, crushing in its suddenness, in the 
 solemnity of the moment, and in the magnitude of the loss 
 which his country sustains. No presentiment of the end of 
 that great reign had crossed my mind ; and I certainly never 
 should have supposed that I was destined to see, after an inter- 
 val of forty years, a second Emperor Alexander in conflict with 
 a second Emperor Napoleon. Every day new details of a more 
 solemn and affecting character reach us from that death-bed 
 which has furnished so grand an example. The Emperor Nicho- 
 las's elevation of soul has been revealed to the world in death, 
 as it was revealed to himself on the day of his accession."
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCH1NE. 321 
 
 CHAPTER XVL 
 
 M. de Lamartine and Count de Maistre. Correspondence with Prince de 
 Broglie and Alexis de Tocqueville. Mme. Swetchine's failing health. 
 Her last visit to Fleury. 
 
 SOME echo of the old discussions yet lingered in the 
 salon of Mme. Swetchine, where faith and independ- 
 ent thought still loved to meet. The fate of our country 
 still appeared to her the premonitory symptom of the fate 
 of Europe ; and the dearest interests of France were 
 almost always discussed along with the dearest interests 
 of Christianity. That unity and general harmony of 
 views, which began with M. de Maistre and M. de Bonald, 
 and was continued in M. de Montalembert and Father 
 Lacordaire, was found in different degrees, and under 
 varying conditions, but controlled by common principles, 
 which served as a connecting link, in almost all her con- 
 stant visitors, MM. d'Eckstein, Auguste Nicolas, de 
 Carne, de Ca/ales, Frantz de Champagny, de Corcelles, 
 d'Esgrigny, Louis Moreau, 1 Bonetti, Rio, and Turquety. 
 One of those who were most widely separated from Mme. 
 Swetchine in intellectual tendency, never failed to render 
 her a sincere and respectful homage ; and that was M. de 
 Lamartiue. They saw little of one another, but they often 
 came into indirect contact. Mme. Swetchine, who never 
 
 1 M. Moreau, the translator of Augustine's Confessions and the City 
 of God, was very much in the confidence of Mme. Swetchine; and we 
 owe him many precious communications. 
 
 21
 
 322 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 could disguise her thought, did not conceal from M. de 
 Lamartine the points of difference, which it would be need- 
 less to dwell on here ; nevertheless, she had the art of 
 giving such an intonation to reproach and complaint, that 
 the friends of M. de Lamartine, and even his wife, who 
 was intimate with Mme. Swetchine, were always able to 
 hear, her. : : . 
 
 44 -Although I am one of those who are most on their 
 guard against the idolatry of genius," wrote Mme. Swet- 
 chine to Mme. de Lamartine, "I must needs recognize in M. 
 de Lamartine an immense power to do me good or harm." 
 
 One of these wounds at least will be regretted by none ; 
 for to its infliction we owe the ensuing pages, where Count 
 de Maistre, suddenly evoked by avenging friendship, re- 
 appears among the last emotions of Mme. Swetchine, as 
 vivid a presence as on the day when he first sat by her 
 fireside. 
 
 M. de Lamartine had traced in his " Confidences " a 
 sketch of the writings and character of Count de Maistre. 
 Mme. Swetchine transcribes some passages, and refutes 
 them thus : 
 
 M. de Lamartine says, that he saw much of M. de 
 Maistre. The number of the sittings makes it the more sur- 
 prising that the portrait should be such an utter failure. No 
 separate feature is faithfully exact, or even recognizable ; still 
 less the countenance as a whole. 
 
 " The brothers of Count de Maistre and the same might 
 be said of himself were in earnest only where God's honor 
 was concerned." 
 
 Count de Maistre was in earnest about ever)' thing which 
 touched his own honor, or even seemed to do so. Devoted as 
 he was to the honor of the Church, which the divine promise 
 has made par excellence the honor of God, he was so thor- 
 oughly a gentleman, that, in any given case, it would have 
 gone hard with him not to satisfy the demands of that fantas- 
 tic human honor which has been so aptly called the supersti- 
 tion of virtue.
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 323 
 
 " Count de Maistre was a man of great height and a 
 handsome, manly countenance." 
 
 Count de Maistre was of medium height, and his features 
 were very irregular. There was nothing piercing about his eye, 
 and extreme short-sightedness rendered its glance somewhat 
 meaningless. Yet that irregular and by np means handsome 
 face was full of majesty. The ensemble, the carriage of the Head, 
 was striking, and stamped with a character of antique wisdom. 
 
 "He knew nothing save from books, and of these he had 
 read few." 
 
 Where did M. de Lamartine learn that M. de Maistre was 
 a small reader ? I knew him well long before M. de Lamar- 
 tine did so ; and I have seen him for years habitually devoting 
 to study twelve and fifteen hours in the day ; and, of these, 
 reading had its full share. M. de Maistre was an immense 
 reader. His table was loaded and piled with books. From 
 his earliest vears, he had been preparing himself thus to era- 
 ploy the leisure of his age by studying the classics as they 
 were studied by the great minds of the seventeenth century ; 
 an education singularly adapted to the formation of strong 
 and sound minds. The career of a magistrate, for which M. 
 de Maistre was destined, imposed upon him equally serious 
 labors ; and the invincible bent of his genius made it a duty 
 for him, not merely to study religion in its origin, but to sound 
 the depths of theology, and to add to his acquisitions the most 
 arduous results of ecclesiastical science. Placed in the door- 
 way between two countries, his ear was familiar with both their 
 languages ; and two literatures were national for M. de 
 Maistre. The Italian, which was not his preference, was de- 
 frauded of none of its rights. Long experience of its beauties 
 kept them fresh in the mind of M. de Maistre ; and side by 
 side with what all the world reads and admires, and which he, 
 better than any other, knew how to read and admire, his 
 memory hoarded a thousand unsuspected treasures, -pearls 
 discovered or rescued from oblivion by himself. As for French 
 literature, it shared to the full his predilection for every thing 
 French, a predilection more decided than he acknowledged, 
 and which betrayed itself in severe criticism, no less than in 
 passionate eulogium. Racine, Montaigne, Molitire, La Fon- 
 taine, and Corneille were ever on his lips. He had mid and 
 retained every thing of Voltaire's, not excepting those produc- 
 tions which are seldom acknowledged. Talent to some ex- 
 tent modified, or at least disarmed him. There was about him 
 something of that savant whom the world has come to toK'rati- 
 under cover of Horace. He could not quite resist the prestige 
 of Rousseau's eloquence.
 
 324 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 " His was a brutish soul, hut a mighty one; an intellect 
 uncultured, but vast ; a style rude, but strong." 
 
 What means the expression "brutish soul," as applied to 
 M. de Maistre? A soul nourished in Christianity, devoted 
 to family affections, displaying in the domestic circle a charming 
 grace and sweetness, sensitive to all the refinements of friend- 
 ship, elevating the duties of the subject to the height of the 
 most noble and loyal sentiments, this, then, is "a brutish 
 soul"! Doubtless M. de Maistre resisted the ideas and im- 
 pulses of his time. It was the courage of sincerity, as M. de 
 Laniartine says, which gave and preserved to him that mar- 
 vellous originality of style, which, though formed by antiquity, 
 his first master, and the grand models which he ever followed, 
 yet owed nothing to imitation. 
 
 ." Thus, absorbed in self, all his philosophy was but the 
 theory of his religious instincts." 
 
 I would sooner admit that recognized truth gave the law 
 to his instincts and tendencies, and that he appealed first of 
 all to his intellect. Obedience and reverence from childhood 
 up had impressed upon his mind the grand outlines of God's 
 law. Arrived at an age to appreciate the divine wisdom, all 
 its splendors burst at once upon his view. Answering all the 
 demands of his reason, satisfying all the needs of his genius, 
 the Catholic religion was, for him, in a constant state of living 
 demonstration ; and never perhaps has Catholicism exercised a 
 more grand and absolute sway. Faith had so far become the 
 second nature of his mind, that he could not conscientiously 
 admit any thing in scepticism, except ignorance, narrowness, 
 ill-will, or a mysterious chastisement. With him the idea was 
 supreme ; and it brought into subjection a heart more honora- 
 ble and upright than naturally pious. 
 
 " He made dogmas of his prejudices." 
 
 If we would leave a shadow of truth to the words of M. de 
 Laniartine, we must reverse them, and say that he was so pro- 
 foundly convinced of the truth of the dogmas which his con- 
 science obeyed, that he was not perhaps sufficiently free from 
 certain prejudices, but extended his submission to principles 
 which were pushed to their utmost consequences by virtue of 
 a logic whose extreme rigor was not of this world. 
 
 i VICHY, June 3, 1851. 
 
 1 M. de Lamartine will certainly be the first to applaud this chival- 
 rous protest. Perhaps he has learned the fact of its existence, or at 
 least suspected it. Two of the recent numbers of the " Cours de Littera- 
 ture " are devoted to M. de Maistre. Many of the features of his portrait 
 are there softened or modified* These modifications have decided me to
 
 LIFK OF MADAME SWETCHTNE. 325 
 
 Unlike in their ages, their careers, and their habits, but 
 drawn together by a common tendency of mind and genius, 
 Alexis de Tocqueville and Prince Albert de Broglie be- 
 came the friends of Mme. Swetchine in her last hour. 
 Their letters have been preserved with equal care, and, so 
 to speak, in the same envelope. They will attest, better 
 than any other argument, what were the thoughts and 
 wishes which allured this great soul, even to the end. 
 Addressing to Mme. Swetchine an article which he had 
 just published under the title of "Le Moyen Age et 
 1'Eglise Catholique," 1 Prince de Broglie wrote in Novem- 
 ber, 1852: 
 
 BROGLIE, Nov. 9, 1852. 
 
 MADAME, I have tried to confess my faith without slander- 
 ing my time. Can it be done ? I believe it can ; and, moreover, 
 I believe that this is, in the end, the only rational thing to do. 
 All other expedients appear to me only fleeting flashes of 
 re-action, which, if we do not take care, will soon leave us in an 
 intellectual night more profound than that from which we have 
 emerged. Donoso Cortes, who kindly wrote me a letter on his 
 article, concludes that the difference between us is, that I 
 believe, in a possible marriage between modern society and the 
 Catholic Church, and that he does not believe in it. I accept 
 this definition of our difference ; and I said to him in reply, that, 
 without overrating modern society, I believed our Lord could 
 sit at its table as well as at that of the publican's, or the marriage 
 in Cana. BUOGLIE. 
 
 TO PRINCE ALBERT DE BROGLIE. 
 
 Nov. 11, 1862. 
 MY DEAR PRINCE, The disposition to see nothing but 
 
 suppress the last paragraph of Mine. Swetchine's work. She protests 
 with great vehemence against the expressions, " Bossuet sauvage," 
 ' Tertullian illettre." M. de Lamartme has substituted the epithet, 
 " Bossuet laic." 
 
 1 Le Moyen Age et 1'Eglise Catholique. I. Sermons preached in 
 1851, by Father Ventura. II. Catholicism, Liberalism, and Socialism, by 
 Donoso Cortes. III. The Undying Worm of Modern Kducatinn, and 
 Letters to Mgr. d'Orleans, by the Abbe" Gaume. Reeue des Deux 
 Mvudes, Nov. 1, 1852.
 
 326 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 evil in the present, without looking at its uppermost and provi- 
 dential aspect, is especially faulty, as I think, in pushing its 
 conclusions too far. It is logic carried to extremes, and, in con- 
 sequence, is often our best ally. What surprises me is, that 
 it seems to cost us so little to pronounce an irrevocable sentence 
 of condemnation, and to see ourselves irresistibly drawn into 
 an abyss. It reminds one of Fontenelle. "My mother," said 
 he " was a quietist. She used to say to me, ' My son, you will 
 be damned ; ' but it did not trouble her." I must acknowledge, 
 that, if I could see our terrible judges a little unhappy over our 
 misfortunes, 1 should be better pleased. However, I suspect 
 that these hypotheses are not entirely serious in their nature, 
 and that possibly we re-assure ourselves from time to time, by 
 an unexpressed disavowal. Doubtless there are many excep- 
 tions; and, if I could make but one, it would be in favor of 
 Donoso Cortes. I have never known a man whose moral dis- 
 position appeared to me more utterly at variance with the 
 movement of his thought ; so that, when you dissent from his 
 opinion, the effect is singular: you seem in some sort to be 
 approaching him as fast as you recede. S. SWETCHINE. 
 
 TO PRINCE ALBERT DE BROGLIE. 
 
 PARIS, Nov. Iff, 1852. 
 
 MY DEAR PRINCE, ... If too many of the books of to- 
 day are made up of the ideas of yesterday, your article on the 
 contrary, my dear Prince, is evidently the resume of protracted 
 studies. On every page you are seen to have assimilated 
 your convictions ; and the thorough familiarity with the question, 
 which arises from your having allowed your thought to examine 
 all sides of it, brings every faculty of your mind into play. I 
 have here given you my own estimate merely ; but, apart from 
 all this, you may rely on the absolute justice of the impression 
 left on my mind, by so many utterances of deep and living faith, 
 in the secret moral power of the Church, in her supernatural 
 action, and in her incomparable ability to transform rather than 
 destroy. Never have the accents of your faith seemed to me 
 so penetrating, so irresistibly persuasive. This, my dear 
 prince, is what gives an inestimable value to your moderation, 
 and constitutes its corrective in the eyes of those who are 
 slightly scared by its unaccustomed flavor. The unanimous 
 vote, even of one's own party, is no longer a thing to be ob- 
 tained : but, parties aside, 1 have no doubt that you have acted 
 on many scattered intellects, whom you have put in tune with 
 themselves and silently reclaimed ; a species of success which 
 seems to me to await an order of ideas without interests to up-
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE 327 
 
 hold or positive ends to gain, and whose great advantage, 
 especially in our day, is to soften in many ways the re-action 
 which it is only reasonable to dread. S. SWETCHINIS. 
 
 TO MME. SWETCHIKE. 
 
 BROGLIE, Nov. 22, 1852. 
 
 ... If I may trust the letters I receive, I have this time had 
 the good fortune to be better understood. I attribute the 
 change to our successive revolutions, which have taught me a 
 better mode of expression, and, it may be also, my audience 
 a better mode of hearing. The friction of great events inevi- 
 tably wears away the angles of opinion. I see people every- 
 where, who, to their own great astonishment, do not take as 
 great a delight as formerly in mutual recrimination. I have 
 forgotten who it is that says, we must take care not to be- 
 come acquainted with our enemies, or we shall have no more 
 comfort m hating them ! The truth in my own case is, that, 
 naturally headstrong, I have acquired the moderation which 
 you over-rate in me, only through the happy accident which 
 early led me to examine opposing ideas, each under its most 
 favorable aspect. As to Protestantism and Liberalism, I have 
 never been able to consider the Protestants and Liberals whom 
 I have known, in any other light than that of truants, who have 
 made the mistake of wanting to fly from the paternal home ; the 
 one from fundamental Christian doctrine, the other from its 
 social consequences. I have always aspired, and, for my own 
 part, have always been able, to find in Catholicism all that 
 struck me as true and good in other opinions. This character 
 of universal truth, comprising all the fragments of truth which 
 exist elsewhere, is all that encourages one to enter the arena 
 of discussion in the name of the Catholic Church. There is no 
 end possible to human debates, because each man holds a frag- 
 ment of truth, and stabs his adversary with its keen point. 
 But Catholicism contains all the virtues which men would fain 
 employ against her. All that concerns her in polemics is to 
 show to every man the aspect of truth most striking to him, and 
 not that with which he is least in sympathy. Why has modern 
 controversy habitually taken the opposite course ? 
 
 BKOGLJE. 
 
 TO MME. SWETCHINE. 
 
 TKOUVILLE, Aug. 9, 1864. 
 
 DEAR MADAME. ... Men are for ever trying to make 
 peace between philosophy and religion ; but it is always a
 
 328 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 peace patched up with equivocations. Every one withholds 
 half his thought, for fear of contradicting the other. I am not 
 very partial to this arrangement, because I do not believe it 
 can be very durable. It seems to me possible to go deeper, 
 and succeed better. The question I would put to philosophy 
 is this : ' ' Do you believe yourself sufficient ? Speak out plainly 
 for once, yes or no ! If yes, we cannot agree ; for, if philosophy 
 is sufficient, revelation is useless. In the words of Dante, 
 
 " Le potessi capir tutto 
 Non fu mestier di partorir Maria." * 
 
 But, if no, then a peace is possible. As soon as humanity 
 doubts its own self-sufficiency, the door is open to religion. I 
 should have liked to say something on this head. 
 
 BROGLIE. 
 
 TO PRDfCE DE BROGLIE. 
 
 FLEURY, Sept. 30, 1856. 
 
 ... It would indeed be pleasant to see united in one con- 
 sistent whole all that deserves our partial approbation, and to 
 behold the concentration of so much unutilized force ; but let 
 us say for our own consolation, that, when a thing does not 
 waste, it gathers, and that there is one thing more important 
 than action, and that is growth. 
 
 I have long delayed to tell you of the perfect satisfaction 1 
 derived from your reply to M. Simon. It ranges you among 
 those defenders of the truth who have learned to love her more 
 by fighting her battles. You grow better by success. Thank 
 God lor it ! This effort of yours, which might have been so 
 barren, is rendered, by its spirit and its affecting language, 
 at once firm and tender, a sign of sensible progress in the 
 Christian faith. 
 
 S. SWETCHINE. 
 
 The correspondence with M. de Tocqueville commences 
 at about the same date. 
 
 1 The complete text is as follows : 
 
 " Stati contenti, umana gente, al quia, 
 Che, se potato sueste veder tutto, 
 Mestier non era partorir Maria." 
 
 DAXTE: Puryatorio, Canto in.
 
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 329 
 
 TO MME. SWETCHINE. 
 
 TOCQUEVILLE, July 28, 1855. 
 
 . . . Although I left Paris two months ago, it is only about 
 three weeks since I arrived here. It is very sweet, after a long 
 exile, to find myself once more in this place. This little nook, 
 apart from its intrinsic charms, is crowded for me with remi- 
 niscences of many of the best years of my life. That invisiiiln 
 part of myself which pervades all surrounding objects gives 
 them a peculiarly touching aspect which no other would per- 
 ceive. These trees, these fields, this ocean view, are wholly 
 unlike aught that I see elsewhere. 
 
 We have thought much of you, Mine, de Tocqueville and I, 
 during the varying fortunes of the war. We could understand 
 the conflicting emotions which such a spectacle must excite in a 
 soul like yours, so apt to admit all loving sentiments, so utterly 
 a stranger to the enmities which distract mankind. Alas ! there 
 seems no reason to believe that these public and private sor- 
 rows are near their end. I rather fear that the scourge of 
 famine is soon to be added to that of war. In any event, the 
 winter must be very hard for the poor ; and those who have 
 means must resolve to make extraordinary sacrifices this year 
 for the relief of others. I must confess that I do not expect 
 all to do this. The succession of bad years, instead of stimulat- 
 ing charity to greater activity, seems to have worn her out. 
 We so soon become used to the thought of want which we do 
 not feel, that an evil which grows greater to the sufferer the 
 longer it lasts, becomes less to the observer by the very fact of 
 its duration. * And then the ties which should bind the dif- 
 ferent classes together are strangely loosened by revolutions. 
 
 Were you not, like me, madame, astonished to see that a 
 nation apparently so devoid of public virtue could produce an 
 army so replete with it? So much selfishness here, so much 
 self-devotion there ! It is amazing ! I see a peasant set forth 
 to join his regiment. He is desponding. Often he weeps. 
 The thought that he is going to defend his native land hardly 
 moves him. He thinks only of his field, his little affairs, the 
 petty interests he is to leave behind. He rails at the duty which 
 snatches him away against his own will. A year later, they 
 bring me letters written by the same man to his family. He is 
 ready to bear all in the line of military duty. He knows that 
 that duty is constantly and freely to sacrifice his comfort and 
 his life in the interest of the army. He found these maxima 
 and these customs established. He adopted them with his uni- 
 form ; and with that he will put them oft, and return the same 
 poor devil whom we knew. He will not import into his social
 
 330 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 life any of the sentiments which he displayed in the army. 
 Until I reflected upon what takes place in modern armies, I 
 believed that there was a good deal of exaggeration about what 
 we read of the public virtues of some of the nations of antiquity. 
 I was positively unable to comprehend how man could have 
 been capable of such things in those days ; for man is always the 
 j>ame. What we daily see in our own armies elucidates the 
 matter. They only did for civil society what we do for military 
 society. The citizens of those days were perhaps no better 
 individually than we, and in private life they may have been 
 worse ; but, in public life, they encountered an organization, a 
 discipline, a custom, a revered opinion, and deep-rooted tradi- 
 tion, which forced them to act as we do not. 
 
 I am ashamed, madame, to see how the current of my thought 
 has carried me away. Let the reflection that you allow me to 
 write to you as I would talk, induce you to pardon this inop- 
 portune dissertation. 
 
 TOCQUEVILLE, Jan. 7, 1856. 
 
 ... I will not delay to thank you for your last interesting 
 and affecting letter. It was an image of yourself. I wish I 
 might deserve the kindness you show me ; for the friendship of 
 a person like yourself imposes an obligation. It calls on us, 
 not merely to be grateful, but to show ourselves worthy. 
 
 As I progress in the work in which you are so kind as to 
 feel an interest, I see more and more plainly that I am being 
 involved in a current of thought and feeling, precisely contrary 
 to that by which many of my contemporaries are carried away. 
 I continue to love passionately things for which they have 
 ceased to care. I regard, as I have ever done, liberty as the 
 first of blessings. I continue to see in it one of the most fruit- 
 ful sources of manly virtues and mighty deeds. There is no 
 degree of comfort or tranquillity which could console me for its 
 loss. But, on the other hand, I see men of my own time, and, 
 I may add, honest men, for I should care little for the opinion 
 of others, who seem only to think how they can best accom- 
 modate themselves to a new regime, and (what troubles and 
 alarms me more than all) who appear to make a taste for servi- 
 tude a kind of ingredient in their virtue. I would not think 
 and feel as they do, if I could. My nature, even more than my 
 will, would revolt from it. 
 
 However, inadaine, you must not think that the object of 
 my book l has any connection, near or remote, with the events 
 
 1 " L'aucien Regime et la Revolution." Ouly one volume has been 
 
 published.
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWErCHINE. 331 
 
 or the men of our time. Still, you know as well as I do, that, 
 however foreign the subject of a work may be to the actual cir- 
 cumstances of a particular epoch, it is everywhere marked by 
 a certain spirit, which is either in sympathy or otherwise with 
 the spirit of the time. The soul of the book lies here, what- 
 ever the book may be ; and this it is which attracts or repels 
 the reader. I have been talking of myself a great while, 
 madame ; but it was you who tempted me to this, and, I assure 
 you, it is not habitual. 
 
 TOCQUEVILLE, July 22, 1856. 
 
 ... I have delayed writing, madame, hoping that I should 
 be able to give you a good account of myself; but I see that is 
 not likely. 
 
 And, first, let me thank you for your last letter. It con- 
 tained, as all your letters do, proofs of an affection which 
 consoles and strengthens me. I never received a line of your 
 writing without being sensible of this twofold impression. The 
 reason is, I think, that one finds in you a heart easily moved, 
 in connection with a mind firmly fixed upon abiding principles. 
 Here is the secret of your charm and your sway. I want to 
 profit more than I do by your precious friendship. It distresses 
 me that I succeed so ill. 
 
 Yet I have recovered, since I wrote you, some portion of 
 the calmness which was wanting during the last of my stay in 
 Paris, and the first moments of my return here. 1 I have not 
 yet been able, however, to feel a keen interest in any thinjj. 
 .No work, no occupation even, has any charm for me : and this 
 leaves the depths of my being in a state of constant agitation ; 
 for I have never found repose in immobility, but rather in a 
 rapid and continuous movement of the mind toward a given 
 point. 
 
 I hope this letter will find you in the country. Your life in 
 Paris, so crowded with the interests of others, though it may 
 sometimes afford you the heartfelt satisfaction of doing much 
 good, must yet, in the end, try your health ; and I rejoice in 
 your solitude. Consult your own pleasure, while this la>ts. 
 madame, and think of others only to recall the affection you 
 inspire in some, and the respect you awaken in others. I know 
 of no more noble plan of life than yours. 
 
 1 M. de Tocqueville had just lost his father, and several of the letters 
 which express his filial grief are omitted here.
 
 332 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 I have just read a book which interested me deeply, 
 Albert de Broglie's "L'Eglise et 1'Empire Remain, au 14 me 
 Sicle." There is a great deal of talent in the work ; and, 
 along with a sincere faith, a liberal spirit, which enables the 
 author to judge of men as the instruments of God. The gen- 
 eral composition of the book struck me as exceedingly happy. 
 I have always experienced a strong disgust for the period of 
 the decadence of Rome ; and Prince de Broglie's work is the 
 only one which has actually interested me in the subject. 
 
 TOCQUEVILLE, Sept. 10, 1856. 
 
 ... I have always been, madame, the most irregular and 
 fitful of correspondents. I would gladly do like a compatriot 
 whom I met in America, and who, when he had any thing of 
 importance to say to a friend, would travel a hundred leagues 
 sooner than write a letter ; very unlike one of my neighbors, 
 who was so ill at ease in conversation, and so accustomed to 
 the pen, that, if hard pushed in an argument, he quitted you 
 at once, mounted his little horse, which he had left at the gate, 
 and galloped off to his castle to write out his reply. I am the 
 very opposite of this last individual ; but I would willingly do 
 like the other. 
 
 I love to hear you speak so nobly of every thing approach- 
 ing slavery. I perfectly agree with you, that a new and fair 
 division of goods and rights in this world should be the main 
 object of those who conduct human affairs. I only wish that 
 political equality meant equal freedom, and not, as it is too 
 often understood in our day, equal subjection to a common 
 master. I strongly suspected, I must confess, that what I said 
 about the clergy of the old regime, and the advantage to be 
 derived from binding them to their country by the ties of 
 worldly interest, would not win your entire assent. I do not 
 want merely to touch on this great subject with you by letter ; 
 but I earnestly desire that one of those rare and precious 
 hours may be near at hand when it is given me to converse 
 with you freely. 
 
 With your permission, I will speak to-day only of the 
 feeling under whose influence I wrote. There are, as it seems 
 to me, two distinct divisions in ethics, equally important in the 
 eyes of God, but which, in our day, his ministers teach with 
 very unequal zeal. The one belongs to the private life. It 
 comprises the relative duties of the human being, as father or 
 child, wife or husband. The other concerns public life, and
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINK. 333 
 
 consists of the duties of the citizen to his country, and to that 
 special division of human society of which he is a part. Am I 
 mistaken in the belief, that the clergy of our time are very 
 much concerned about the first-mentioned branch of morality, 
 and very little about the second? The fact appears to me 
 every where patent, especially in the style of thought and feeling 
 prevalent among our mothers and wives. I see multitudes 
 of these who have a thousand private virtues, in which the 
 direct and beneficent action of religion is manifest, who, 
 thanks to religion, are faithful wives, just and indulgent mis- 
 tresses, and full of charity to the poor ; but of that portion of 
 their duty which concerns public life, they have not the dimmest 
 idea. Not only do they fail to practise it themselves, but they 
 do not seem to dream of enjoining such practice on those who 
 come under their influence. This phase of education is to 
 them, as it were, invisible. It was not so under the old regime, 
 which, among many vices, included proud and manly virtues. 
 I have often heard them tell, that my grandmother, who was a 
 very religious woman, after enjoining on her little son the per- 
 formance of every private duty, never failed to add, "And 
 then, my child, never forget that a man belongs first of all to 
 his country, and that he must hesitate at no sacrifice for her 
 sake ; that he must never be indifferent to her fate ; and that 
 God requires him to be always ready to consecrate his time, 
 his fortune, and even his life, to the service of the state and 
 the king." 
 
 But 1 see, madame, that I am insensibly getting deeper into 
 the subject than I meant. I want to talk with you about this 
 thing. I cannot say all I would in writing. I will not close, 
 however, without thanking you for the quotation from Bossuet. 
 I find in that single sentence all that can elevate man, and at 
 the same time restrain him to his proper place. It gives one 
 a sense at once of one's own greatness and that of God. It 
 is proud, and it is humble. Where did you find it, madame ? 
 I did not know this admirable fragment. 
 
 TOCQOKVILLE, Oct. 20. 1856. 
 
 ... I assure you, madame, that I am not tempted to make 
 use of the permission you accorded me, to leave your letters 
 unanswered. The simple desire to hear from you would be 
 enough to induce me to write. In short, the pleasure of re- 
 ceiving one of your letters is so great, that only laziness could 
 interfere with the wish to deserve it.
 
 334 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 You say some things in your last, which are as true as they 
 are finely expressed, on the inevitable vagueness of our ideas 
 of political duty in troublous, unsettled, revolutionary times 
 like our own, and on the difficulties we encounter in attempting 
 to indicate to mankind the law of conscience in this respect. 
 You would assuredly be right, if it were a question of enforcing 
 or defending any special doctrines of government ; but I do 
 not so understand it. I believe that in this matter, as in all 
 that concerns human action, there are, besides the special rules 
 applicable to each individual case, general principles to incul- 
 cate, sentiments to cherish, a certain direction to be given to 
 the ideas and the will. Assuredly, I do not ask of the priests 
 to enforce upon the men whose education is intrusted to them, 
 and over whom they exercise an influence, the duty of favoring 
 a republic or a monarchy. But I must confess, that I wish they 
 oftener addressed them, not as Christians merely, but as mem- 
 bers of one of the great human societies which God has doubtless 
 established to strengthen the ties which bind individuals to- 
 gether, societies which are called nations, and whose territory 
 is the fatherland. I wish they could make each man feel more 
 deeply that he has a duty to this collective entity prior to the 
 duty which he owes himself; that he must never become indif- 
 ferent to its interests, still less exalt that indifference into a sort 
 of effeminate virtue, enervating to some of our noblest instincts ; 
 that all are responsible for the fate of the country ; and that all, 
 according to their several lights, are bound to labor unceas- 
 ingly for her prosperity, and to take care that she submit to 
 none but beneficent, worthy, and legitimate rulers. I know 
 that the inference has been drawn from the gospel of the Sunday 
 before last, that the Christian's duty in political matters is con- 
 fined to obeying the established authority, whatever it may be. 
 Permit me to believe that this is an inference from the com- 
 ment rather than from the text, and that political virtue is not 
 thus circumscribed for the Christian. Of course, Christianity 
 may exist under any government, and may find, even in cus- 
 toms which bad governments impose upon men, the material 
 for noble virtues. But it does not follow, unless I am greatly 
 mistaken, that men should become insensible or indifferent to 
 these customs, or that any one is relieved of the duty of bravely 
 contending for the legitimate methods revealed by the light of 
 conscience. 
 
 This is what I would fain see taught to men, and, I would 
 add, to women. Nothing has struck me more, in a tolerably 
 long experience of public affairs, than the influence exerted by 
 women in these matters, an influence all the greater for being 
 indirect. I do not doubt that it is they who impart to a nation
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SAVETCHINE. 335 
 
 that moral temperament which 5s subsequently revealed by its 
 policy. I could cite a multitude of names which would illus- 
 trate what I say. A hundred times, in the course of my life, 
 I have seen weak men displaying actual public virtues, because 
 there were women beside them who supported them in such 
 a course, not by advising such and such particular acts, but 
 by exercising a tonic influence on their manner of regarding 
 duty, or even ambition in general. Oftener still, it must be 
 confessed, I have seen the secret influence of the fireside trans- 
 forming the man to whom nature had given generosity, dis- 
 interestedness, and greatness of soul, into a mean, vulgar, 
 egotistical ofh'ce-seeker, who came to see in the affairs of his 
 country only the means of rendering his own situation more 
 easy and comfortable. And how came this about? Through 
 daily contact with a virtuous woman, a faithful wife, a good 
 mother, by whom the great idea of political duty, in its loftiest 
 and most energetic sense, had ever been, I will not say com- 
 bated, but ignored ! 
 
 TOCQUEVILLE, Dec. 29, 1856. 
 
 ... I belong sufficiently to that old regime, which they 
 accuse me of slandering so, to be unwilling to finish a year 
 without telling my best friends of the love I bear them. Allow 
 me, then, uiadame, to follow with you this old custom of the 
 good old time, and to assure you, with all the earnestness it is 
 possible to put into words written and sent from afar, that then? 
 is no one whose fate interests me more than yours, and that 
 I desire for you, with all my heart, the blessings meet for such 
 a soul, blessings which so far transcend the faculties and 
 even the desires of most ; and many occasions of benefiting, 
 consoling, aiding, and elevating all who approach you. You 
 enjoy, and you know the value of, this noble employment of 
 one's time. God has granted you the greatest boon a mortal 
 can obtain ; and all one can wish for you is, that you may long 
 have the use of it. 
 
 It was very good of you, madamc, to remember that M. de 
 Boaambo was my uncle. His death, which we have too long 
 ftm-secn, was yet a deep affliction. He always held m our 
 family a place apart ; he was less than a father to us, but more 
 than an uncle. The last tie which united the ivmnants of my 
 lamily breaks with his death. With him vanished the last of 
 that generation of noble parents who gave us such rare exam- 
 ples of virtue. lie united to all the most affecting evidences
 
 336 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 of religion the highest and most delicate sense of honor. 
 This man, whose kindness and sweetness of nature bordered 
 on weakness, became energetic even to heroism, where his 
 dignity or his duty was concerned. This noble and excellent 
 man was very unfortunate in the world. He was smitten by 
 many sorrows. Surely, the justice of God will compensate 
 him for these ; and he alone, in the absence of every other 
 argument, would prove to me, that such justice exists, and that 
 the order which has been disturbed in this world will be re- 
 stored in another. . . . 
 
 " It is impossible for two souls to meet in sweet com- 
 munion, without religion's sooner or later crossing the 
 threshold of their discourse." l This beautiful remark by 
 Father Lacordaire was soon verified in the intercourse of 
 M. de Tocqueville and Mme. Swetchine. He revealed to 
 her the state of his mind with much feeling and utter un- 
 reserve. After receiving her reply, he wrote as follows : 
 
 TOCQUEVILLE, March 21, 1867. 
 
 Your last letter, madame, has given me a deep and lasting 
 sense of gratitude. You are not one to stand secure upon the 
 shore, and feel a cruel joy in watching the tempest-tossed 
 sailor. Thanks, madame, for the hopes which you entertain, 
 and bid me cherish. May God hear your prayers ! I have 
 sought the truth of which we have spoken, if not always with 
 the single eye which is worthy to discover it, at least zealously, 
 and with a sincere desire to find and grasp the blessing. If 
 trouble led to peace, how long ago would peace have been 
 mine ! 
 
 That truth and that peace the noble heart of M. de 
 Tocqueville could not fail to attain and enjoy. He was 
 touching it at the very moment when he spoke witli such 
 humble self-distrust, and the consolations of his death 
 have already shed light and comfort upon his life. 
 
 The health of Mme. Swetchine was now growing feebler 
 
 1 Funeral Oration of Mme. Swetchine, by Father Lacordaire, " Cor- 
 respondant" of Oct. 25, 1857, p. 197.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 337 
 
 every day. Her unparalleled courage and heroism still 
 kept up the illusion of strength ; but those who watched 
 narrowly the progress of her malady saw that the danger 
 was imminent. For thirty years, it may be said, she had 
 not been free from suffering for a day ; and her nights, in 
 particular, had been seasons of cruel trial. A liver com- 
 plaint, the commencement of heart-disease, and premoni- 
 tory symptoms of dropsy, had long ago induced swelling 
 and oppression. She only resisted their progress by sit- 
 ting habitually in a high, hard chair, or walking about 
 her rooms. Some of the interviews most deeply engraved 
 upon the memory of her friends were chiefly passed in 
 traversing by her side the length and breadth of her 
 drawing-room, sometimes with hurried steps. We must 
 not, therefore, omit to mention, among the efforts of 
 patience which she imposed on herself for the sake of her 
 friends, the obligation to remain seated when her drawing- 
 room was full, and did not admit of her seeking relief in 
 motion. She said sometimes, with a smile, to the few 
 who knew what she suffered from this inconvenience, 
 " The politeness of the world consists in rising for vis- 
 itors ; mine, in keeping my seat." 
 
 During the night, this tendency caused her actual tor- 
 ture. Before midnight she slept quite soundly, but seldom 
 did she hear from her little camp-bed the clock strike one, 
 or at most two, before a sense of suffocation obliged her to 
 rise, and resume her walk. Sometimes a mechanical in- 
 stinct made her start from her bed before she was fully 
 awake ; and, in that case, she would often run with such 
 violence against the angles of the furniture, that she 
 would show visible traces of the blow. More frequently, 
 she mastered her drowsiness ; and, in the midst of her 
 feverish agitation, her mind resumed its steady, tranquil 
 
 22
 
 338 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 workings. And then, pausing . at intervals before her 
 desk, she would trace those detached fragments, those 
 almost illegible pencil lines, which she did not always 
 remember to destroy, and which have providentially sur- 
 vived to reveal to us the treasures of her humility. 
 
 During the two last years of her life, Mme. Swetchine 
 sought in the summer a country residence more solitary 
 and remote from Paris than had been her wont. Her 
 physicians enjoined in the most peremptory manner this 
 isolation for a few months. The ingenuity of affection 
 opened to her an asylum, which added to its intrinsic 
 charms that of renewing the memory of an affection 
 always present to the heart of Mme. Swetchine. The 
 Countess de la Rochejacquelin, daughter of the Duchess 
 de Duras, placed at her disposal the old chateau of Fleury, 
 on the borders of the forest of Fontainebleau. Here she 
 found a vast ground-floor, where she could take exercise 
 at any time, deep moats beneath the windows, full of 
 limpid water ; in the park, the silent shadow of trees a 
 century old ; long, battlemented walls, which could still 
 shelter solitude, though they no longer defended power, 
 and all the charms and blessings of the rarest hospitality. 
 The noble aspect of this fine old place, its grand memo- 
 ries, even the shade of the Princess de Tarente, which 
 Mme. Swetchine, as we have already seen, saluted with 
 emotion, all these contributed to produce a salutary 
 effect, which her friends rejoiced exceedingly to see, and 
 on which they built their latest hopes. 
 
 The parish church, which almost adjoined the chateau, 
 received each day a morning visit. " I proposed to her," 
 writes the cure" of Fleury, " to say her week-day mass at 
 an hour better suited to the exigencies of her health ; but 
 she was seldom willing to consent to this, for fear of
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 339 
 
 wounding the good Sisters of Charity, who heard the 
 service with her." On Sundays, all the people of the 
 parish loved to see and gather round her, when she came 
 out from high mass. She was very lively with them, and 
 had kind and cheery words for all. The poor and af- 
 flicted, who had experienced her vast charity, waited 
 patiently till the crowd had passed, and then approached 
 her ; nor did they ever turn away without having felt the 
 effects of her liberality. Often, when unable to go out, 
 she sent for them to come to her. 
 
 Her friends were careful to respect her retirement. 
 Not one of them would have consented to intrude on her, 
 unless in answer to a direct appeal. Among those whom 
 she thus summoned were the Baroness Seebach, second 
 daughter of the Countess de Nesselrode, and Mme. Craven, 
 who, as the daughter of Count de la Ferronnays, was 
 the representative to Mme. Swetchine at once of a living 
 affection and a dear and pious memory. 
 
 " It was a blessed day," wrote Mme. Craven, on leaving 
 Fleury. " Mme. Swetchine urged me strongly to reserve to 
 myself each day some hours of entire freedom in the morning. 
 'The quality of the time,' said she, is better then.' And it 
 vvu.s not merely for the sake of consecrating the first hours of 
 the day to God that she began it so early, but also that she 
 might always have a considerable time to devote to study. 
 She told me, that day, that her pleasure in study had grown 
 with her years ; ' so much so,' said she, ' that, when I approach 
 that table to resume my beloved labor, my heart throbs with 
 joy.' 'Ah !' said she that same day, ' old age is not the lovely 
 age ; but be sure, my dear, it is a lovely age.' " l 
 
 i To form a just idea of that passion for study which possessed Mme. 
 Swetchine to her latest day, one should read her correspondence with 
 M. Donetti, editor of the " Annales de Philosophic Chretienne," a cor- 
 respondence which he has published in a very interesting sketch in tht> 
 " Annales " for December, 1867.
 
 340 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 Among all the studies recommended by Mme. Swet- 
 chine to her friends, the study of self always occupied 
 a prominent place. She herself kept up the practice of 
 self-examination to her dying hour; but no exertions in 
 this line could quiet her anxiety or satisfy her thirst for 
 perfection. Fragments of her scrupulous and unwearied 
 analysis of the most trifling movements of her heart and 
 conscience may still be read upon the worn leaves of two 
 pocket diaries. 
 
 " I have no further desire to be pointed out to the children 
 of men, save as a woman who believes and prays and loves." 
 
 " Saturday, March 29, 1856. 
 
 " Always to begin by doing that which costs me most, unless 
 the easier duty is a pressing one. 
 
 "To examine, classify, and determine at night the work of 
 the morrow ; to arrange things in the order of their importance, 
 and act accordingly. 
 
 " To dread, above all things, bitterness and irritation. To 
 shun display in all things. Never to say, or indirectly to recall 
 any thing to my own advantage. Never to be pleased with any 
 thing that I say myself, nor to press my point. To withhold 
 striking remarks. 
 
 " God blesses man, not for finding, but for seeking. 
 
 " To choose to have less rather than more." 
 
 Some lines of a similar character were traced at Fleury, 
 at the close of the year 1857. Her handwriting was 
 already betraying the progress of the malady which so 
 alarmed her friends. But the employment and direction 
 of her thoughts were always the same. 
 
 " Not to have struggled earnestly enough with evil ; to 
 have let it gain the advantage. To have allowed every thing 
 about me to grow torpid from my limbs to my mind. To face 
 the danger which threatens me, and which increases every 
 day. I have offered to God my full, entire, and voluntary 
 acceptance of the decree which will cut me off" from this world. 
 The hour and manner of its execution I leave with him. 
 
 " Blessed death of Mme. de Saint-Glair, the grandmother
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 341 
 
 of Mme. do la Ferri^re, 1 who informed me of it thus : ' She 
 received all the sacraments with great meekness, and then she 
 said, " Ah, how sweet it is to die ! No one can know how 
 sweet it is to die. 1 "" 
 
 "FLEURY. 
 
 " To pay too much attention to the number and variety of 
 my sufferings, this is a servile weakness, a softening of the 
 will." 
 
 " Friday, July 19. 
 
 "The dullest and emptiest day possible. A perfect blank. 
 Nothing accomplished. Utter prostration of strength. Good 
 only in that I have suffered in silence." 
 
 Thus did Mme. Swetchlne, her eyes fixed on the eternal 
 goal, draw rapidly near the end. Her intention had been 
 to remain at Fleury through the autumn of 1857, when 
 she received intelligence that two of her nephews 
 Princes Gregory and Eugene Gargarin were coming 
 with their families to pass some weeks with her. They 
 begged her to receive them in her peaceful retreat. 
 
 With her customary unselfishness, Mme. Swetchine re- 
 fused. Although she knew her two nieces to be high- 
 minded women, and tenderly attached to her, she would 
 not consent, merely for her own convenience, to confine in 
 the country these young ladies with their children. She 
 resolved, in spite of all remonstrances, to return to Paris, 
 for the time which her dear visitors had devoted to her. 
 She left Fleury, hoping to return, a last grace which 
 God did not vouchsafe us. 
 
 i Mme. de Saint-Clair, nte, Egerton, married in England one of the 
 emlyri-s, M. de Cheux, formerly a page of Count d'Artois, who after- 
 wards bore the name of Saint-Clair, to distinguish himself from the 
 numerous branches of his family in Normandy. She became a Catholic 
 after her marriage, and lived and died in France, leaving an example of 
 the most exalted piety. Her grand-daughter, the Countess de la Ferriere 
 Percy, was tenderly beloved by Mme. Swetchine.
 
 342 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 LETTER 
 
 COUNT DE MONTALEMBERT. 
 
 THE last days of Mme. Swetchine were the crown, 
 the illustration, the consummation, of her life. A 
 faithful picture of these not only concerns the honor of 
 her memory, but the influence which that memory is to 
 exercise over the minds of others. I believe I may be 
 pardoned for bringing before the eyes of the public, after 
 long hesitation, a letter destined only for a friend. A more 
 studied narrative would have been less reliable. My heart 
 is full of the last words of Mme. Swetchine herself; and it 
 has seemed to me as if the simple truth ought to take 
 precedence of any premeditated statement On the same 
 ground, I hope to be forgiven my frequent personal intru- 
 sion into the story. The world cannot fail to understand, 
 that it does not depend on me to abdicate my sad privilege 
 of eye-witness. 
 
 TO THE COUNT DE MONTALEMBERT. 
 
 MY DEAR FRIEND, Your grief needs all the consola- 
 tion I can give. Your soul must share in the indelible 
 lesson that I have received. I send you, therefore, a 
 minute and faithful journal of the last days on earth of the 
 friend whom we can now invoke in heaven.
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHIXE. 343 
 
 I reached Paris on the 21st of August, at five o'clock, 
 A.M., summoned by a letter from Cloppet of so alarming a 
 nature, that I hardly dared hope to find her alive. I went 
 straight to her door, without stopping at my own. The 
 servants were already up, and their first word re-assured 
 me. The accidental crisis had passed. The chronic malady 
 remained, but Mme. Swetchine, they assured me, was 
 utterly ignorant of the danger of her situation ; and I 
 must, they said, take care to assign some motive for my 
 sudden return, which would not excite her apprehensions. 
 I was surprised to hear of this delusion, it was so different 
 from the ordinary courage and acuteness of our sainted 
 friend ; still I must needs believe the unanimous assertion 
 of four very zealous and intelligent domestics. It was set- 
 tled, that they should announce my arrival as the result of 
 a hasty excursion, and that I should not come back till 
 the afternoon, that she might imagine I had come by the 
 night train. 
 
 I entered her drawing-room at the hour when it was 
 ordinarily thrown open. Nothing there was altered or out 
 of place. She sat in her own chair near her writing-desk, 
 and there was only one visible symptom of her malady : 
 her head was bowed, and rested on her breast. She raised 
 it only by what seemed a very painful effort, and immedi- 
 ately dropped it again. If one sat low enough to catch the 
 play of her features, her smile was the same as ever, and 
 her voice retained all its delicate shades of inflection. She 
 quietly accepted the reason I assigned for my arrival, and 
 inquired about all my affairs with her own unfailing solici- 
 tude. She spoke little of herself, and asked me to stay 
 and dine. I refused ; assigning as a reason, that it would 
 be hard for her to walk as far as the dining-room. She 
 replied, " Perhaps I shall not go to the table myself; but I
 
 344 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 shall know that you are there close by, and that will give 
 me pleasure." I still refused, and said that I would dine 
 at the Quai d'Orsay, which is very near, and come back 
 immediately. " Yes," said she ; " but, if you stay, I shall 
 gain all the time it would take you to go and come." So 
 I stayed. 
 
 Until half-past eight we were alone. Pressure for 
 breath rendered her speech slow and difficult, and often in- 
 terrupted it. She would sign to me with her hand to wait 
 till the feeling of suffocation had passed ; and, when silence 
 had relieved it, she would resume her train of thought 
 with no loss of clearness and beauty of expression. I 
 asked her a thousand questions about politics and our com- 
 mon friends ; and she replied with interest, animation, and 
 even gayety. Speaking of the difficulties and dangers 
 which beset all political relations, both foreign and domes- 
 tic, she said, " Nothing can be turned to immediate advan- 
 tage. All is reserved for the winning number. But what 
 will that winning number be ? " I asked her if the ques- 
 tion of peasant emancipation were not beginxing to circu- 
 late actively in Russia. " It does not circulate," was her 
 reply : " it boils." At half-past eight, her two nephews 
 came, with their wives and children. The Princess Gregory 
 Gargarin was, by birth, a Princess Dashkof. She be- 
 longed to the same family as the celebrated favorite of the 
 Empress Catherine. The Princess Eugene Gargarin, nee 
 Stourdza, was the niece and the faithful representative 
 there of the Countess Edling. This was Russia's share in 
 that supreme re-union. She invited us all to dine with her 
 on the next day, and took leave of us at nine o'clock, the 
 hour fixed by her physician. I retired, convinced, like all 
 the rest, that she felt no immediate anxiety about herself. 
 
 On the next morning, I saw Dr. Rayer. The sub-
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCIIIXE. 345 
 
 stance of his opinion, so soon to be completely justified, 
 was as follows : " The incomparable moral force of Mme. 
 Swetchine is at present her principal and well-nigh her 
 sole element of life. Great care must be taken not to im- 
 pair this. For myself, I- do not visit her as often as I 
 should like, that I may not enlighten her on her situation, 
 which is now beyond the reach of science." He then. de- 
 tailed the nature and character of her various complaints. 
 " Her sufferings of all sorts must," said he, " be inexpressi- 
 ble." The application of repeated blisters had made her 
 body, so to speak, one single sore. As to the dropsy, it 
 was already about the heart, and beginning to affect the 
 head, causing the sense of weight there, which kept it con- 
 stantly bowed. Dr. Rayer did not apprehend any sudden 
 accident ; but when I asked him, in so many words, whether 
 I could rejoin my family in Anjou, he replied, " I will not 
 answer for more than a fortnight, and I cannot authorize 
 the faintest hope that she will live beyond three weeks." 
 Stricken by these mournful words, I returned to her side, 
 resolved not to lose another of those moments which the 
 mercy of God still accorded me. I did not see her alone 
 that afternoon. At dinner there were eight guests. Mme. 
 Swetchine was led into the dining-room, supported on 
 either side ; and, once seated at the table, she did the 
 honors, and cared for us all with the vigilance of the most 
 attentive hostess. After dinner, she said to her eldest 
 nephew, Prince Gregory Gargarin, " My friend, go smoke 
 your cigar on my terrace." " Dear aunt," replied Prince 
 Gargarin, " I care so little for my cigar when I am with 
 you, that I have not even brought any." Mme. Swetchine 
 smiled her thanks. Five minutes after, Cloppet entered 
 the drawing-room with a half-dozen cigars on a plate ; and, 
 when Prince Gregory exclaimed at this attention, she said,
 
 346 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 " Perhaps you think I put myself to expense for you. 
 Not at all ! I borrowed them." Conversation maintained 
 this cheerful tone throughout the evening, which we were 
 very careful not to prolong beyond nine o'clock, though she 
 insisted on our staying. 
 
 On the morrow, she asked me if I had fixed the day for 
 my return to Anjou ; and, when I told her no, she paused, 
 and from that moment never mentioned the Bourg-d'Ire, 
 or any thing which might call me away. She understood 
 why I was there. In the evening, when I left her, she 
 said in a very low voice, " Come at noon, to-morrow : I 
 want to talk with you alone." 
 
 The next day, I was punctual to her appointment ; and 
 without preparation, or any especial solemnity or emotion, 
 just as if it came in the ordinary course of conversation, 
 she said, " My dear Alfred, we must now attend to wind- 
 ing up my worldly affairs, and I must tell you just how I 
 am situated. I have, properly speaking, no will to leave. 
 The bulk of my fortune will go directly to my sister and 
 her children ; but there are some special bequests about 
 which I am anxious, and I want to be sure that they are 
 executed. You must advise me about some of them, and 
 help me to give them a clear and legal wording." 
 
 I would not urge her to delay this sorrowful business. 
 It would have been an attempt at deception which could 
 only have done her harm ; but I did try to dissuade her 
 from writing out her requests with her own hand, for she 
 had told me beforehand, that they were somewhat compli- 
 cated. " Let me write from your notes and your dicta- 
 tion," I said : " then you will only have to sign the paper, 
 and deliver it to a notary before witnesses." " Do not 
 suggest a notary," said she with animation : " I always 
 had an antipathy for them ; and, besides, it would be a
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 347 
 
 gratuitous insult to my sister and my nephews. If I have 
 strength to recopy what you write, I will do it. If that 
 is impossible, whatever you write, or whatever you say on 
 my behalf, will be enough. Let us begin with my burial. 
 Do you think it would be considered singular or affected 
 for me to express the following wishes ? " She then 
 handed me these lines, written on an old sheet of letter- 
 paper, and dated Nov. 27, 1851 : "As soon as my eyes 
 are closed, I beg that I may be laid in my beloved chapel. 
 Let the body be kept there two days, and afterwards car- 
 ried to St. Thomas d' Aquinas, where I would like to have 
 low mass said on my behalf. I want it then to be depos- 
 ited in the vault, and the next day removed to the Church 
 of Montmartre, where I desire a mass said for the repose 
 of my soul ; and, after that, let them bury me in the little 
 cemetery, in the place already prepared by the side of my 
 husband. I would like my grave covered with a stone 
 similar to his, and a cross engraved on it, with my name 
 and the date of my birth and my death, and, underneath, 
 these words of the Psalmist : ' Domine, dilexi decorem 
 domus tua3 et locum habitationis gloria? tuae.' I beg that 
 the hearse may be as simple as possible ; and I distinctly 
 forbid any sort of decoration, particularly draping the car- 
 riage entrance or the fronts of the two churches, as well 
 as notes of invitation to my funeral, or to announce my 
 death, or the mass at the end of the year." 
 
 When I had assured her that no one could misunder- 
 stand the spirit of these arrangements, she seemed very 
 much relieved. " Well, then," she said, " take that bit of 
 paper with you, and begin your labors there. And come 
 to me each noon, and so we shall make some progress 
 every day. Now I am quite out of breath," she contin- 
 ued, smiling. " A tete-a-tete is the only thing which I am
 
 348 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 almost unable to bear. Activity about me is very far 
 from tiring me, if I take no part in it. Conversation still 
 interests me, if I am not directly appealed to, and only 
 join in it so far as my chest allows me. There, I have 
 told you my secret! so now I beg you will act as my 
 shield. Instead of your coming less frequently than usual, 
 I want you to be here all the time. I cannot do without 
 a dragoman." I then left her to take a little rest, and 
 promised to come back at three o'clock, the hour when her 
 drawing-room was ordinarily opened. When I went out, 
 I said to Cloppet, " We need not trouble ourselves any 
 longer about deceiving her. She knew this, as she has 
 always known every thing, long before the rest of us." I 
 did not explain myself further ; but it was a kind of satis- 
 faction to me to find, that even to the last, and under so 
 cruel a revelation, our friend was equal to herself. 
 
 Five or six days passed in this way. Every day, she 
 spoke to me in detail of her death, of its approach, and 
 what was to follow it ; and intrusted to me little notes 
 relative to her intentions with regard to her servants and 
 her charities. When the suffocation became too intolera- 
 ble, she would break off the interview, and send me away. 
 After discharging her debt of gratitude to those who had 
 taken care of her, the subject nearest her heart was the 
 perpetuity of her little sanctuary, which had been worthily 
 intrusted to the Duchess de Chevreuse. At three o'clock, 
 her drawing-room was thrown open. Every trace of the 
 morning's employment had disappeared; and every one 
 continued to believe in her illusion, and strove himself to 
 keep it up. When I endeavored to represent to her the 
 anxiety which this arrangement occasioned me, she said, 
 " You must not suppose that I find all this fatiguing. It 
 rather rests me. I can no longer read or write, and isola-
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 349 
 
 tion would wear me out quicker than any thing else. 
 Nothing is so painful to me as vacuity." 
 
 She spoke the truth, and any one who realized her in- 
 tellectual force would have ceased to contest the point ; 
 yet to one who knew her heart, the suspicion could but 
 occur, that tenderness and consideration for those she loved 
 had some share in her decision. She confessed as much to 
 me a few days later. It had been her wish once more to 
 assemble at her table her nephews and nieces, with the 
 children and their instructors. She was excessively 
 fatigued by the effort, and that night her mind wandered a 
 good deal. I took the liberty to remonstrate with her for 
 the dinner-party, in the name of her nephews themselves. 
 " You are quite right," said she ; u but I did so want them 
 to write to my sister that they had all dined with me. 
 That simple fact will be more re-assuring to her than any 
 thing else. Poor sister! ill herself at Moscow. I know 
 how distressed she will be ; and I dread it so much. And 
 then my nieces, who have all Paris to visit! Why should 
 I make them anticipate their mourning for an old aunt 
 whom they scarcely know ? " 
 
 In expressing my anxiety about her bad night, I had 
 not dared to utter the word delirium, sure that the thought 
 of losing the full possession of her faculties would be most 
 unpleasant to her. Neither did she allude to it. During 
 the day, she received as usual the few friends who were 
 then in Paris, M. de Langsdorf, M. de Bois-le-Comte, 
 Mme. de Meyendorf, Mme. Craven, M. Eugene de Segur, 
 Augustin Galitzin, M. de Berton, M. Marcellin de Fresno. 
 Several times she joined warmly in the conversation, de- 
 spite her constantly increasing sufferings. There was a 
 good deal said about the trial, then pending, of Captain 
 Doisneau in Algiers. " What disturbs me most," said
 
 350 LITE OF MADAME SWETCHIXE. 
 
 Mme. Swetchine, " is the grief of the army, and the con- 
 clusions which might thence be drawn unfavorable to 
 France. There are so many people who forget that a 
 nation is a moral agent, and make light of insulting her to 
 the last degree. But a nation is, at least, a neighbor, and 
 ought to be the first of neighbors." And she continued in 
 this strain, with an eloquence which produced all the more 
 impression, that it seemed forced by a kind of supernatural 
 effort from her panting chest. They also spoke of the 
 projected interview between the Emperor of Russia and 
 the Emperor Napoleon. " Of course," she said, " nothing 
 can be nearer my heart than a reconciliation between 
 France and Russia ; yet there is an instinct within me that 
 almost always rebels when two such dignitaries arrive at 
 too good an understanding. I think of the little people 
 who must pay the expenses of these interviews ; and I 
 cannot forget that I belong naturally to the majority." 
 
 You know, my dear friend, how unwilling she was to 
 have her salon assume the aspect of an academy, and how 
 rare were literary exhibitions there. The desire to remain 
 in her presence, and yet to fatigue her as little as possible, 
 suggested the idea of calling on the prodigious memory of 
 Mme. Meyendorf, who came every evening. Mme. Swet- 
 chine showed herself very sensible of the rare talent for 
 recitation which Mme. Meyendorf developed. The latter 
 recited some fragments from St. Chrysostom, translated 
 by Villemain, and some from Father Bridaine. Mme. 
 Swetchine even then brought out, by a few brief but 
 luminous words, their very dissimilar beauties. She dwelt 
 at some length on the peculiar merit of M. Villemain's 
 translation, and every word she spoke created increased 
 surprise ; for, during the declamation, her head had sunk 
 lower and lower, her elbow slipped along the table on
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SVTETCHINE. 351 
 
 which it rested, and one might have thought her asleep at 
 the very moment, when, as she proved most conclusively, 
 she was paying the strictest attention. Mme. de Meyen- 
 dorf one evening recited, in the most piquant and ingenious 
 manner, the fable of the Grasshopper and the Ant. When 
 she thanked her, Mme. Swetchine remarked, " One has 
 certainly only a child's knowledge of Fontaine till one 
 hears him from you." 
 
 The delirium now returned every night, and redoubled 
 the alarm of the attendants who watched with her. She 
 spoke to me about it first. " I have most extraordinary 
 nights now," said she. " Thirty or forty persons come into 
 my chamber ; and I try to make them leave, but cannot. 
 I then resolve to talk quietly with them. I say, ' I know 
 very well that you are phantoms. I shall outlast you.' " 
 She related this in such a calm and natural tone of voice, 
 that I asked myself if there were not still a little halluci- 
 nation in her mind at the moment of speaking ; but she 
 dispelled the suspicion as she went on. " This disposition 
 is only aggravated in me. It has always existed. When 
 I was young, and used to travel post several nights in suc- 
 cession, by the second or third night I always saw three or 
 four persons on the seat, and one or two running beside the 
 carriage-door." 
 
 Having said this, she went back to the subject of our 
 noonday interviews ; that is to say, her testamentary be- 
 quests. On the morrow, when I inquired about her night, 
 she replied, " The same delirium. This time I made a 
 great effort to study its nature, and, if possible, penetrate 
 its mystery. I asked myself if my visions might not be an 
 effect of light or of conjunction of colors. I made the 
 watchers change places. I had myself carried to different 
 parts of the room ; but the phantoms followed me every-
 
 352 LIFE OF MADA5fE SWETCHINE. 
 
 where. I then said to myself, Enough : it is a symptom of 
 my condition." During the day, she still continued to take 
 an active and sprightly part in conversation. Somebody 
 asked her if she had had no news from the Marquis de 
 Brignole. She leaned toward me, and said, in an under- 
 tone, " He is one of my nightly visitors." Mme. Le Tis- 
 sier remarked, that, when one came back to Paris, it was 
 difficult at once to recover the concert pitch. " Yes," re- 
 plied Mme. Swetchine, " one has to polish up one's music 
 a little, and spend a few days in practising scales." One 
 of those present added, that it was true there was a lack 
 of mental stimulus in the provinces and the country, but 
 that Paris had another kind of disadvantage, confusion. 
 Mme. Swetchine laughed a free and hearty laugh. " Yes," 
 said she, " there ought to be seasons of mental prohibition 
 established at Paris, and a kind of bunting license imposed, 
 so as to leave every one time for his partridges to hatch." 
 When I arrived at Paris, I found her very anxious about 
 Father Lacordaire. " Do you comprehend," said she to 
 me, " this absolute silence on the part of everybody, when 
 the centennial celebration has taken place at Soreze, and 
 all the bishops and archbishops have been there; and 
 Father Lacordaire must certainly have spoken several 
 times ? " She had depended, my dear friend, on hearing 
 an account of these days from your brother-in-law, Werner 
 de Merode, who had been present along with M. de Mire- 
 poix. She counted the days and the chances, with that 
 affectionate ardor which nothing could ever damp. I was 
 fortunate enough to find in a reading-room an extract 
 from a southern journal, describing in enthusiastic terms 
 the whole celebration at Soreze, the presence of Marshal 
 Pelissier, the speeches, the toasts, and the repeated ap- 
 plause of the audience. I procured the journal, and car-
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 353 
 
 ried it to her ; and she seemed to derive a kind of new 
 life from it, and enjoyed the most trifling details. " The 
 presence of Marshal Pelissier gives me infinite pleasure," 
 she repeated. " It is enough, and not too much, to sat- 
 isfy everybody." 
 
 A further pleasure was in store for her the next day. 
 Father Lacordaire himself arrived. She questioned him 
 minutely ; and never was he himself so winning, so ten- 
 der, so full of filial devotion. Both felt that it was the 
 last time, and testified the feeling, though not in words. 
 
 The general debility was all the while increasing. For 
 a long time she had taken no nourishment, except a few raw 
 peaches without sugar, strawberry-sirup and eau de Saint- 
 Galmier. But nothing interrupted her morning medita- 
 tions of several hours in her chapel, her daily mass, or her 
 frequent communion. Father Lacordaire had the consola- 
 tion of several times administering to her the holy sacra- 
 ment. No entreaties could dissuade her from remaining 
 on her knees almost all the time that she passed in her 
 chapel ; and, after she had received the body of our Lord, 
 she knelt for at least half or three-quarters of an hour in 
 prayer that bordered on ecstasy. It was thus that she de- 
 rived strength, serenity, and freedom of mind for the rest 
 of the day. 
 
 On Monday, the 31st of August, she was very sleepy, 
 and received scarcely any one. Tuesday, the 1st of Sep- 
 tember, she revived. I left her at six o'clock to go to my 
 dinner; and, on coming back, I found her in animated 
 conversation with Father Lacordaire and M. Fresneau. 
 She made us read to her the whole of an article prepared 
 for the " Correspondant " on Sister Rosalie and M. de 
 Melun. It was the last reading she ever heard. 
 
 All that evening, her unexpected interest in the reading, 
 23
 
 354 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 and the presence of mind with which she followed it, in- 
 spired Father Lacordaire with a confidence which he had 
 been far from feeling until then. He had quitted Soreze 
 in haste, on the first alarm about Mme. Swetchine, leaving 
 grave interests at stake. He now resolved to go back the 
 next morning with the expressed intention of returning at 
 an early day. On "Wednesday, the 2d of September, he 
 came very early to say mass in the little chapel of the 
 Rue St. Dominique, had one more long and confidential 
 interview with Mme. Swetchine, and left by the train at 
 nine o'clock. She made no effort to detain him. She had 
 expressed no wish to have any one sent for. She blessed 
 the Lord for what he granted her ; but that which he did 
 not send in the natural order of things, she did not allow 
 herself to desire. 
 
 I knew how fondly she loved Mme. de Sainte-Aulaire ; 
 and I repeatedly mentioned her name in order to give 
 occasion for the utterance of a wish which I should imme- 
 diately have transmitted. The affection was always ex- 
 pressed ; the wish, never. One day, when M. de Langsdorf 
 was going into the country to see his mother-in-law, I was 
 more explicit than usual. Her reply was, " I hope that 
 she and I are both borne in the bosom of our God. There 
 we shall meet, and love for ever." 
 
 The Marquise de Lillers, who was eighty-nine years 
 old, came twice a day to inquire for her ; sometimes she 
 went in, and sometimes, for fear of disturbing her, she 
 stopped in the little dining-room and shed tears, very 
 affecting in one of her age. " Do you know," said 
 Mme. de Lillers to me on that day, " what was the last 
 word our dear and sainted friend addressed to me yester- 
 day? I embraced her, and said I was going away to 
 pray for her. ' Thank you, my good friend,' said she,
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 355 
 
 ' thank you ; but do not ask God for one day more or one 
 pang less.' " 
 
 The nights of Wednesday the 2d and Thursday the 3d 
 of September were more restless than any previous ones. 
 The confusion of mind continued for a part of the morn- 
 ing, and was followed by utter prostration. For the first 
 time, she spoke to me without entire possession of herself, 
 and thought she saw some one sitting between us when we 
 were quite alone. This alarmed me more than any other 
 symptom. I sent for Dr. Rayer at six o'clock in the morn- 
 ing. Another physician came instead. Mme. Rayer had 
 been taken suddenly and seriously ill. The physician or- 
 dered very painful remedies. They procured her some rest 
 that night ; but, on Friday morning, the suffocation in- 
 creased, and drowsiness alternated with a species of delirium. 
 She recognized those who approached her, with a smile, 
 caressed affectionately with hand and eye her nephews and 
 her niece, who lavished on her the most assiduous care ; 
 but, beyond this, there was no precision or connection about 
 her thoughts. Each hour we hoped to see Dr. Rayer re- 
 turn ; but it was his substitute who came at last, and told 
 us Mme. Rayer was dead. We decided to conceal her 
 death from Mme. Swetchine. It was very evident that the 
 slightest emotion aggravated her condition in the most dan- 
 gerous manner ; and there could be no doubt as to how 
 this would affect her. Only the day before, at our noon- 
 day interview, which she had never relinquished, she had 
 given me a list of her friends' names, and said, " We must 
 think of something special for each one : I want them all 
 to feel that they have been the objects of no commonplace 
 remembrance, but of a thoughtful and watchful gratitude." 
 She was particularly anxious about Dr. Rayer. " I want 
 a regular plot laid in his behalf," said she ; and this affec-
 
 356 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 tionate conspiracy was to have had Mme. Rayer for its 
 chief accomplice. It is easy to see, therefore, how this 
 death, in itself a great affliction, would have interfered with 
 the carrying-out of one of her cherished thoughts. 
 
 Dissimulation was easy on that Friday of cruel memory. 
 As the day wore on, her sufferings became greater and 
 more apparent. Towards four o'clock, the suffocation, 
 assumed the form of actual convulsions. Our dear sufferer 
 for the first time allowed us to place her in an arm-chair ; 
 but presently started up, with an agonized face, throwing 
 aside all the clothing which weighed upon her chest, and 
 uttering hoarse, distressing sounds, which seemed like the 
 final struggle. M. de Melun, who had just arrived in 
 Paris, saw her for the first time in this dreadful state. 
 His despair augmented ours ; and he did not hesitate to 
 advise us to call in the cure of St. Thomas without a 
 moment's delay. We sent for him at once, and also sum- 
 moned the nearest physician. The Abbe Serres arrived 
 first, and undertook the duty of administering extreme 
 unction. He spoke to the agonized saint in the most 
 affecting manner as a priest and a friend. At the sound of 
 his voice, Mme. Swetchine seemed in some sort to triumph 
 over death. She could no longer articulate distinctly, but 
 her hand continued to give responsive signs. As the 
 prayers continued, the effort of her soul's fervent piety be- 
 came more and more evident. At the close of the litanies, 
 she succeeded in pronouncing almost distinctly the " Ora 
 pro nobis ; " and the sobs, kept back till now by respect, 
 burst forth involuntarily, when, the venerable cure having 
 pronounced the words " for all eternity," the dying lady, 
 collecting by a sensible effort all her strength and all her 
 faith, added, in a voice hollow, stifled, yet full of courage, 
 "Yes, for all eternity." Her servants and the porters
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 357 
 
 had followed the Abbe Serres when he entered the apart- 
 ment with the holy viaticum. The doors were left open ; 
 it was precisely the hour when she used to receive ; friends 
 came in one by one, dropped on their knees, and burst into 
 tears. Albert de Broglie had arrived almost simultane- 
 ously with M. de Melun, and quite as unexpectedly. They 
 were soon followed by Mme. Fredro, Mme. Craven, Mme. 
 de Meyendorf, Mile. Rostopchin, M. de Bois-le-Comte, 
 M. Yermolof, Father Gargarin, and, finally, Father Cho- 
 carn, Superior of the Dominicans at Paris. When the 
 administration of the last sacrament was concluded, the 
 Abbe Serres begged Mme. Swetchine to bless the assistants 
 and their families. She made a sign that she blessed and 
 prayed for them with all her heart. The Abbe" then beck- 
 oned Father Chocarn, named him to her, and said, " Will 
 you not bless, in his person, his house, and Father Lacor- 
 dairc, and all the children of Saint Dominic?" They then 
 admitted the physician, who had been summoned at hazard. 
 He made deep incisions in her legs, and drew off a great 
 quantity of water. 
 
 The evening was one of the utmost prostration. Still, 
 the suffocation sensibly diminished, and the effusion of 
 water on the brain was arrested. She let them lay her on 
 her little camp-bed, which was brought into the drawing- 
 room ; and the night was comparatively quiet. On Satur- 
 day the improvement progressed. M. Andral came twice. 
 At each visit, she begged earnestly for news of M. Rayer, 
 Mme. Rayer, and their daughter. " Those three are so 
 happy together," said she ; " they are inseparable." For 
 the first time, M. Andral perceived evident symptoms of 
 mortification about her legs ; but her intellect was clear 
 again, and had all its own peculiar characteristics. Satur- 
 day morning, she said to me, " Yesterday is a blank tablet
 
 358 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 for me. I can recall nothing of those twenty-four hours. 
 Even this morning, I have only fractions of ideas." In 
 the afternoon, she admitted M. Yermolof, who said to her, 
 " Do you know that you received extreme unction yester- 
 day ? " She replied very calmly, " I did not know it : why 
 did they not tell me sooner ? " 
 
 M. de Melun had come early, and she had begged him 
 to bring his wife, whom she did not know. She received 
 her with the simplest and warmest marks of affection. 
 But we soon began to dread the suffering which pro- 
 tracted interviews always induced ; and I offered to give to 
 Mme. de Melun the details which she had asked of the 
 invalid herself. Mme. de Melun was astonished to per- 
 ceive no trace of illness, and to hear not a single com- 
 plaint. She was told that it was always so ; and that 
 those who had been with the dear sufferer, day and night, 
 had not yet detected a groan. One of us added, " When 
 we realize all she endures, we cannot understand how 
 she does it." " It is because I am content : that is 
 the extent of my cunning," replied Mme. Swetchine, 
 with an accent of the most simple and unaffected gayety. 
 M. de Melun said to her, "I shall come back alone 
 presently." Mme. Swetchine turned to Mme. de Melun, 
 and said, " How like a husband he already talks ! But, 
 you see, it is no arrangement of mine." Mme. de Melun 
 answered, that she thought her husband was quite right, 
 and that two people would fatigue her more than one. 
 "Ah, well!" said Mme. Swetchine, "if I have any thing 
 sad to say, I shall take him alone; but, if it is any thing 
 affectionate, you shall both share it." 
 
 That evening, towards seven o'clock, she had her easy- 
 chair moved near the open window. She appeared to 
 enjoy the beauty of the evening, the purity of the air, and
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHIXK. 359 
 
 the smiling view of terrace and garden. " If," she said to 
 me, " it were God's will, I should still enjoy life; but, if 
 he deigns to call me to himself, how can I have any other 
 feeling but gratitude?" "Yes," said I: "I remember to 
 have heard you say, that resignation is not enough." 
 " Resignation," she answered, " is still something distinct 
 from God's will. It differs from it, as union differs from 
 unity. Union implies two; unity, only one: and this is 
 the way it ought to be with our will and God's." And 
 then she spoke of herself, a thing of very rare occurrence. 
 " For many years," said she, " my real, and, I might almost 
 say, my only trouble, has been when I have not known or 
 have failed to comprehend God's will in regard to me. 
 However, I have all trust in his mercy ; and, in my present 
 state, trust seems my only means of glorifying him." 
 Then, recurring to the death of her nephew, Theophilus, 
 over which I had seen her weep bitterly so.me years 
 before, she once more burst into tears, as if the blow had 
 just fallen upon her. " My grief was inconsolable," said 
 she, "because I thought God had forsaken me." 
 
 Just then, the Prince and Princess Eugene Gargarin 
 came in with their children. Their two little boys, the 
 one aged about twelve or thirteen, the other ten or 
 eleven, were always great favorites with her. On their 
 arrival at Paris, they had spoken of two young Greeks, 
 with whom they had made friends on the voyage ; but the 
 Greek family had stopped at Marseilles. " When your 
 young friends come to Paris," Mme. Swetchine said to her 
 grandnephews, " tell me, and I will have you all come 
 and play on my terrace." The little Greeks came ; the 
 children told their aunt; but it happened to be one of 
 her most distressed days, and she made no reply. This 
 evening, when she saw them come in, she said, " You
 
 360 LITE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 think, perhaps, that I have forgotten about your party on 
 the terrace. Not at all. I have thought of it, though 
 I said nothing. It shall be Monday, the day after to- 
 morrow, if you wish it: the only question is, whether 
 I myself shall be in Paris on Monday." 
 
 Father de Pontlevoi, her usual confessor, was absent, and 
 his place was supplied by Father Soimier. She made 
 arrangements to receive the communion on Sunday morn- 
 ing. M. and Mme. Cochin, and Mme. de la Ferriere, 
 whom she had not yet seen, were present at the service ; 
 and she welcomed them warmly. In the afternoon, the 
 Duchess de la Rouchefoucauld arrived from Roche-Guyon. 
 She saw her for a moment, and then made her go away, 
 while they bathed her legs, where she noted the progress 
 of the mortification calmly, as she did every other symp- 
 tom. At four o'clock, she was carried to her sofa, and 
 then recalled the Duchess de la Rouchefoucauld and Mile, 
 de Pomaret. I went out for a few moments ; and, when I 
 came back, Mme. de la Rouchefoucauld and Mile, de 
 Pomaret were chatting near her sofa. The name of St. 
 Andral had recalled that of M. Royer-Collard. Mme. 
 Swetchine, who had a great affection for M. Royer-Col- 
 lard, kept up the conversation. They had just been 
 speaking of the Revolution of July, and of the address of 
 the two hundred and twenty-one. Mile, de Pomaret 
 related, that when M. Royer-Collard voted for the address, 
 and assisted in drawing it up, he only intended to give 
 Charles X., whom he professed to love and respect, an 
 opportunity to draw back with honor, and re-enter the 
 path of possible prosperity for France and Europe gener- 
 ally. " That reminds me," said the Duchess de la Rouche- 
 foucauld, " of the gentleman who once promised you that 
 he would study the happiness of his wife. Your- reply
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 361 
 
 was, ' Content yourself with not preventing it.' " They 
 also conversed with interest and animation about Mme. de 
 Goutaut, and the marriage of her grand-daughter with 
 M. de Cosse. 
 
 Shortly after dinner, M. Andral came, and proceeded, 
 as usual, to examine her legs. He came out better pleased. 
 The gangrene seemed to have disappeared. " There is," 
 said he, " a rallying of the vital forces which amazes me." 
 At these words, we could not repress an e'motion of un- 
 hoped-for joy. The evening did not belie these happy 
 prognostics. Mme. Swetchine spoke less freely than during 
 the day, but continued to testify the same affectionate 
 interest in all who approached her. She still preserved 
 her gentle gayety, and those happy turns of expression, 
 even about common things, for which she was remarkable. 
 She said to Mme. de Craven, speaking of the more com- 
 fortable arm-chair which she had accepted a day or two 
 before, and which belonged to her maid, " You must know, 
 my dear Pauline, that I am just beginning to appreciate 
 an easy-chair, and that I have lived to this hour without 
 suspecting what comfort really is. How much involuntary 
 maceration," she added, with a smile, " I have imposed 
 upon those who have been coming to see me for so many 
 years, and sitting on hard chairs, with wooden arms ! " 
 M. Andral had advised her to eat as much as possible; 
 and, when he went out, she said to Mme. Craven, "Now, 
 I must rack my memory, and summon all my gastronomic 
 science, in order to compose a bill of fare which will please 
 the doctor." 
 
 Evening came, and she continued better. She received 
 M. and Mme. Cochin, and detained them after they would 
 have left ; and, for the first time, we separated, and went 
 to rest with something like hope. In the morning, when
 
 362 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 I returned to her house, my first impression was one of 
 sorrowful surprise. She had had her bed taken into the 
 drawing-room, and received me lying down. I asked her 
 if she had had a bad night. " No," she said ; " but I 
 assure you, that better or worse signifies nothing. It is 
 all one to me. 1 have a vague feeling, that there is per- 
 haps more life in me than people imagine ; but, on the 
 other hand, I feel as if I might be in the presence of God 
 in a very few'hours." These words, coming directly upon 
 the hopes of the evening, filled me with inexpressible sad- 
 ness. The accent of her voice, the pressure of her hand, 
 her attitude, all assured me that the encouraging word 
 was spoken for our support, but that she herself was per- 
 fectly convinced that her end was very near. I had great 
 difficulty in controlling my emotion. I could not quite 
 conceal it ; but I told her, that, at least, I could thank God 
 for having allowed me to be with her at this season. " I 
 was going to say what may sound a little strange," she 
 replied ; " but, my friend, I believe you ; and I may add 
 that you are right. We must always be grateful when 
 God shows us the truth ; and, believe me, the truth is 
 here." She uttered these words with a kind of gentle 
 solemnity, that was full of unction, indicating her bed at 
 the same time with a gesture which said plainly, " It is 
 the bed of death." She then resumed calmly : " We must 
 now make the most of these few moments. You may 
 think it incredible, that any shadow of human regard 
 should cross my soul in this hour; but I am anxious to 
 speak my husband's name to you once more. It may be 
 that he never had justice done him. He was always good 
 to me, and God knows that I have never been consoled 
 for his loss." 
 
 It was then that she spoke of her papers. I dared not
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCIIINE. 363 
 
 question her directly about her intentions, for fear of her 
 imposing upon me some prohibition or absolute condition. 
 She did not, however, appear very anxious on the subject, 
 but passed rapidly from what concerned her personally to 
 the correspondence of Father Lacordaire. I had often 
 heard her say, " Father Lacordaire will never be known 
 aright till after the publication of these letters." She re- 
 affirmed this opinion with the greatest distinctness, and 
 insisted on it strongly. Her little bed was hardly raised a 
 foot above the floor. I was on my knees on the carpet, 
 bending over, that I might hear her better. " Go," said 
 she, " and open the etagere in the corner of the room, 
 and bring me a bound volume, which you will find in a 
 box." I found and brought it. It was the life of Saint 
 Dominic, all in the handwriting of Father Lacordaire. 
 Her eyes rested on it with evident affection, but without 
 emotion or tears. She then replaced the manuscript in my 
 hands, and said, " Please read me the letter on the first 
 page." I read that dedication, so full of filial attachment. 
 When I came to this sentence, " I wish that some one of 
 your descendants may one day know that his ancestress 
 was a woman whom St. Jerome would have loved as he 
 loved Paul and Marcellus, one who needed only a pen 
 illustrious and saintly enough to do her justice," she 
 interrupted me, and said, " That sentence is disagreeable 
 and absurd as applied to me ; " then, after a short pause, 
 she added, " but, where I am going, praise and blame will 
 be alike." 
 
 When I had finished reading Father Lacordaire's letter, 
 and we had exchanged a few more words, she made me 
 ring for Cloppet, told him where to find all her corre- 
 spondence with Father Lacordaire, had it brought her, 
 and placed it in my hands, together with the manuscript,
 
 364 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHIXE. 
 
 begging me to take them home with me that very day. 
 It was easy to see that this was her most cherished care, 
 and that she would not expose this deposit to the chances 
 or the misunderstandings which she accepted so readily for 
 herself. She had designed for the Duchess of Hamilton 
 a little portable silver basin for holy-water. " Let me 
 show you," said she, " how to use it ; and then, after my 
 death, you can explain it to the Princess Mary." And 
 she gave me the most minute instructions, with unutterable 
 serenity, holding the little font in her hand. She spoke 
 with the same affection of the Princess Wittgenstein, 
 daughter of Prince Bariatinsky, whose name was linked 
 with the studies and resolves which issued in her conver- 
 sion. At last she said, " There, I am very tired. We 
 will not talk of business any more to-day, but to-morrow 
 we will begin here." 
 
 I went into the library ; and there I found several friends, 
 who, like me, had come in full of hope, and to whom I 
 communicated my alarm. Still no apparent aggravation 
 had supervened; and we tried to re-assure one another, 
 until the hour for M. Andral's visit. I stood behind the 
 curtain while he examined her legs. Large blue spots 
 had re-appeared, and there was erysipelas about the knee. 
 M. Andral's face was very grave. I was meaning to 
 follow him when he went out; but Mme. Swetchine caught 
 sight of me, and said, in a beseeching tone, " Alfred, I beg 
 of you to follow M. Andral : I see that they are deceiving 
 me about Mme. Rayer. Ascertain the truth, and tell me, 
 I conjure you." Alas ! I did not need to ask M. Andral. 
 
 However, I had confidently expected her to say some- 
 thing of the kind. The two first times M. Andral came, 
 she inquired, first of all, for Mme. Rayer. Sunday even- 
 ing, she did not mention her; and I said to Cloppet,
 
 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCIimE. 365 
 
 "Depend upon it, she has not forgotten her. She only 
 wants to spare us the equivocations which she detects. 
 How many times I have seen her do so ! " On Monday, 
 she would still have concealed her anxiety ; but our pro- 
 longed silence was more than she could bear. My first 
 impulse was to go at once for Dr. Rayer himself. M. de 
 Melun dissuaded me. We knew the despairing grief into 
 which the doctor and his only daughter were plunged by 
 their sudden loss, and M. de Melun thought my direct 
 appeal would be indiscreet. I confined myself to sending 
 a verbal message by a third person; and M. Rayer replied, 
 that he would come to-morrow (Tuesday), at nine o'clock. 
 I waited for him in the dining-room. He was choked 
 by sobs. He opened the window, and hid his face for some 
 time without speaking. At last he said, " This morning, 
 I had no courage to keep my word ; but my daughter said 
 to me, ' If my mother were alive, she would entreat you 
 to go : ' so I came." I could but respect and admire the 
 devotion of the physician and friend, and the deep attach- 
 ment which our dear sufferer inspired in all who approached 
 her. I hastened, as soon as possible, to interest science, 
 and call it to our aid. I described to Dr. Rayer the symp- 
 toms of the preceding night, which had been very serious. 
 Ordinarily she had her windows kept open till late in the 
 evening ; but this night she had complained of cold. At 
 one o'clock, a chill had seized her. She made them light 
 a large fire, and keep her wrapped in heated coverings 
 till four o'clock in the morning. The doctor had told me, 
 that he, too, wished to spare Mme. Swetchine the shock 
 of Mme. Rayer's death. He entered, and extended his 
 hand to her with a smile. " How is Mme. Rayer ? " was 
 Mine. Swetchine's first word. " Madame, it was she who 
 sent me here," he said, in a tone which those who heard it
 
 366 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 will never forget. " You need not have left her," replied 
 Mme. Swetchine, with an affection worthy of her friend's 
 sacrifice; "you ought not to have quitted one whom you 
 may yet save, for me, who am past help." M. Rayer 
 continued for about twenty minutes to make the most 
 minute inquiries about the measures which had been 
 adopted in his absence ; but, when he came out, he did not 
 conceal from the Princess Gargarin that all hope was 
 gone. 
 
 That Tuesday was a painful day ; but we had no imme- 
 diate alarm. The drowsiness and prostration were con- 
 tinual. People came into her room, and sat down by hex 
 bed ; but she did not seem to notice them. Yet the voice 
 of her niece, and her nephews' kissing her hand, called 
 forth a few words of unfailing affection. She said to Mme. 
 Craven, " The suffocation makes my voice so harsh, that I 
 seem to be grumbling in spite of myself." And to her 
 maid she said, " When I strain my voice, you must not 
 think that I am impatient ; but I find they cannot hear me." 
 Indeed, it became more and more difficult to catch her 
 words. She did not leave her bed after Monday, but 
 remained there in a sitting posture, with her head either 
 bent forward, or resting against an upright pillow, on the 
 left side of the bed. 
 
 Yet there was no disorder in her drawing-room ; not an 
 article of furniture out of place, no apparatus of sickness, 
 not even a table, with a glass or a phial. When she 
 wanted to drink, she either had us ring for Cloppet or 
 Mme. Henri, or made sign to Parisse, who, far or near, 
 kept her eyes constantly fixed on her mistress. Her little 
 bed, in the middle of the drawing-room, seemed as if it 
 had been placed there for her repose during a trifling and 
 temporary indisposition. She would not permit the be-
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 367 
 
 trayal of grief by any external paraphernalia, any more 
 than by a murmur or a sigh. 
 
 Sunday and Monday, they had carried her in an easy- 
 chair into the chapel, and she had partaken of the com- 
 munion there. On one of those days, she went, long before 
 the usual hour; and Mme. d'Esgrigny entered, and took her 
 station in the doorway, without Mme. Swetchine's noticing 
 her. She thought she was alone, and prayed aloud, often 
 interrupting her prayer by words and gestures of gratitude 
 to God, full of the most ardent love. On Monday, she 
 remained for some minutes alone with Father Soimier. 
 Every evening, the cure of St. Thomas came to see her, 
 and made arrangements about the next morning's mass. 
 On Tuesday evening, Sept. 8, she requested mass for 
 Wednesday, at half-past seven. The cure promised her ; 
 but we were convinced that she could not bear being car- 
 ried in her easy -chair to the chapel. We remained later 
 than usual in the library, coming and going between 
 that and the drawing-room, exchanging our mutual com- 
 ments and observations. But as the hours wore away 
 quietly, and the chill of the night before did not come 
 on, we separated. 
 
 On the morrow, judge of my surprise at receiving, when 
 I awoke, the following little note, in handwriting that 
 trembled slightly in the three first lines, but was otherwise 
 perfectly steady : 
 
 MY VERY DEAR ALFRED, I beg you to finish the paper 
 you have in hand. I have strong hopes that we can at least 
 continue it to-day. Between eleven and twelve o'clock, I hope 
 to have a moment when I can summon you. How I have 
 taxed you ! but it will all be reckoned. It will help to win you 
 heaven, heaven, heaven ! I can answer for it. 
 
 Wednesday, 9th. 
 
 At first, I could not believe my eyes. I flattered myself
 
 368 LIFE OP MADAME SWETCHINE. 
 
 for a moment with the belief in a new miracle of her vital 
 energy, or, rather, of divine mercy ; but I soon began to 
 fear that it was but the last and crowning pledge of her 
 maternal tenderness. Alas ! my fears were only too well 
 grounded. 
 
 I hastened to her. She was dressed, and sitting in her 
 own chair, near her writing-desk. She had asked for 
 M. des Essarts, her man of business, and was counting the 
 moments with a kind of impatience. He was later than 
 she expected. When I announced him, she said, " It is 
 too late now. The right moment is passed ; perhaps it 
 will not return. But beg him to wait." She then re- 
 peated, that the generosity and delicacy of her nephews 
 relieved her of all anxiety, and asked to be carried back 
 to bed. When she had lain down, I returned to her bed- 
 side. Her mind wandered a little. At the end of a 
 quarter of an hour, she told me to bring in M. des Essarts. 
 I obeyed ; but, when she attempted to talk with him, she 
 could not collect her ideas. She thought people were 
 coming to take away her papers and furniture. We vainly 
 tried to convince her of the contrary. I then said, press- 
 ing both her hands, " You know me, surely ; you do not 
 think I would deceive you. I give you my word, that 
 this is all the effect of a little access of fever." She re- 
 plied steadily, " You will not deceive me : you will only 
 spare me. But I do not need to be spared : I only need 
 the truth." She raised her voice, and added, with great 
 energy, " Yes, the truth ! I would rather have a hospital- 
 bed with that, than all the luxury in the world without 
 it ! " So you see, my friend, that even her delirium had 
 a grandeur of accent which many a sage has never at- 
 tained. 
 
 The agitation and fever continued all the afternoon ; yet
 
 LIFE OF MADAME SWETCHINE. 369 
 
 she still recognized Dr. Rayer. Towards night, she be- 
 came suddenly calm. At nine o'clock, she asked for 
 Father Soimier. We suggested, that it was very late to 
 send for him, and proposed to bring in the Abbe Serres, 
 who was in the library. She assented. She could no 
 longer raise her head : but, when she heard him approach 
 her bed, she asked him to grant her absolution once more ; 
 and, when she had received it, with the most unmistakable 
 signs of piety and faith she asked if she could partake of 
 the communion the next morning, and fixed on seven 
 o'clock as the hour for mass. At ten o'clock, all was still 
 about her. From time to time, we heard, " My God, 
 have mercy on me!" or some other broken words of 
 prayer. At midnight, she counted the strokes of "the 
 clock. After that, she several times asked the hour. At 
 half-past five, she said, " It will soon be time for mass. 
 They must raise me." A few moments later, without 
 another word, or sign of suffering, she was in the bosom 
 of her God. A. DE FALLOUX. 
 
 CARADEUC, Sept. 22, 1857. 
 
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 11
 
 ALPHABETICAL LIST 
 
 OF 
 
 Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Publications. 
 
 Alger (Bev. W. R.). Poetry of the Orient. Page 7. 
 
 " " The Genius of Solitude. Page 6. 
 
 " " The Friendships of Women. Page 9. 
 
 A Bound of Days. Page 1. 
 Buchanan (Robert). Poems. Page 6. 
 Butler (Samuel). Hudibras. Page 8. 
 
 Baring-Gould (S.). Curious Myths of the Middle Ages. Page 5. 
 Cornwall (Barry). Charles Lamb. A Memoir. Page 6. 
 Cervantes. The Adventures of Don Quixote. Page 1. 
 Dore (Gustave). Two Hundred Humorous Sketches. Page 1. 
 Doyle (Richard) and Planche. An Old Fairy Tale. Page 1. 
 Ecce Homo. Page 4. 
 Ecce Deus. Page 4. 
 Griset (Ernest). Grotesques. Page 1. 
 Gray (David). Poems. Page 7. 
 Hamerton (Philip G.). A Painter's Camp. Page 5. 
 Hunt (Leigh). The Seer. Page 4. 
 
 Hunt (Leigh and S. Adams Lee). The Book of the Sonnet Page 6. 
 Heaven (The) Series. Page 10. 
 Rowland (Mrs.). The Practical Cook Book. Page 9. 
 Ingelow's (Jean) Poetical Writings. Page 2. 
 Ingelow's (Jean) Prose Writings. Page 3. 
 Ingraham's (Rev. J. H.) Religious Writings. Page 10. 
 Johnson's (Dr.) Pocket English Dictionary. Page 9. 
 Juvenile Works. Page 11. 
 
 Lytton (E. Bulwer). Poems and Dramas. Page 8. 
 Morris (William). The Life and Death of Jason. Page 4. 
 Macgregor (John). A Thousand Miles in the Rob Roy Canoe. Page 8. 
 
 " " The Rob Roy on the Baltic. Page 8. 
 
 Melancholy Anatomized. Page 9. 
 Model (The) Letter Writer. Page 9. 
 Pellico (Silvio). My Prisons. Page 9. 
 Parables (The) of our Lord. Page 1. 
 
 Recamier (Madame). Memoirs and Correspondence. Page 5. 
 Rossetti (Christina G.). Poems. Page 6. 
 
 Shakespeare. The Globe Edit. The Handy-Volume Edit. Page 7. 
 Swain (Charles). Poems. Page 8. 
 Schefer (Leopold). The Layman's Breviary. Page 9. 
 Swetchine (Madame). Life and Letters. Page 9. 
 Steinmetz (Andrew). Sunshine and Showers. Page 5. 
 Schiller's Lay of the Bell, translated by Bulwer. Page 1. 
 12
 
 & v 
 
 from 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Series 94