1 :

 
 presented to the 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA SAN DIEGO 
 by 
 
 FRIENDS OF THE LIBRARY 
 
 MR. JOHN C. ROSE 
 
 donor
 
 MADAME DE STAEL 
 
 AN HISTORICAL NOTEL. 
 
 BY 
 
 AMELY BOLTE. 
 
 TBA.NSI.ATED FROM THE GERMAN 
 
 T H IE O ID O It E J O H 1ST S O INT. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 G. P. PUTNAM & SONS, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 ASSOCIATION BUILDING, 23o STREET.
 
 ENTERED ACCORDING TO ACT OP CONGRESS, IN TDK TEAK 1869, BY 
 G. P. PUTNAM & SON, 
 
 m THE CLERK'S OFFICE OF THE DISTRICT COURT FOR THE SOUTHEKX 
 DISTRICT OF NEW YORK. 
 
 STEREOTYPED BY PRESS OF THE 
 
 DENNIS BRO'S & CO., NEW YORK PRINTING COMPANY 
 
 AUBURN. N. T. 81, 83, i 85 CENTRE ST.
 
 OOXTEI^TS. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 PAI 
 
 I. THE DEATH OF Louis XV., 1 
 
 II. NECKER'S SALON, 10 
 
 HI. THB VISIT TO THE SICK-ROOM, 19 
 
 IV. THE FESTIVAL, 31 
 
 V. VOLTAIRE IN PARIS, 45 
 
 VI. THE FIRST LAUREL- WREATH, 50 
 
 VII. A VISIT TO ROUSSEAU, 67 
 
 VHI. THE FIRST POEM^ 78 
 
 IX. DR. TRONCHIN, 89 
 
 X. THE VILLA AT ST. OTJEN, 97 
 
 XI. THE COMMONER IN THE CABINET, 109 
 
 XH. Louis PHILIPPE'S GOVERNESS, 120 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 I. A VISIT TO MARMONTEL, 135 
 
 II. MARRIAGES DE CONVEYANCE, 151 
 
 HI. THE HERO OP THE AMERICAN WAR, 163 
 
 IV. A DISAPPOINTMENT, 175 
 
 V. THE DINNER AT THE ACADEMY, 185 
 
 VI. THE YOUNG EMBASSADRESS, 196 
 
 VII. THE CELEBRATED LADY, 202 
 
 VTU. NECKER'S RETURN TO THE CABINET, 212 
 
 IX, THE WINTER OF 1788, 22J 
 
 X. THE PROCESSION, 234 
 
 XI. THE FAMINE, 24C 
 
 XII. NECKERS TRIUMPHANT ENTRY INTO PARIS, 256 
 
 XIII. THE DREAMS OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY, 26(5 
 
 XIV. 'i'liE TOCSIN OF PARIS, S7U
 
 iV CONTENTS. 
 
 BOOK HL 
 
 MM 
 
 L MADAME DE STAEL AT COPPET, 287 
 
 n. BENJAMIN CONSTANT DE REBECQUE, 297 
 
 HI. THE FIRST EMBASSADOB TO THE NEW REPUBLIC,.... ' 306 
 
 IV. THE NEW PABIS, 815 
 
 V. GTOI.T AND EXPIATION, 325 
 
 VI. MADAME DE MONTESSON, 384 
 
 VII. PARIS IN THE TEAB 1800, 346 
 
 VIII. IN EXILE, 363 
 
 IX. THREE MONTHS AT WEIMAR, 379 
 
 X. THE HYPERBOREAN Ass, 394 
 
 XI. AN EVENING WITH HENRIETTA HERZ, 404 
 
 XII. MADAME DE STAEL'S JOURNEY TO HOME, 413 
 
 TTTT, NAPOLEON'S HATRED, 421 
 
 XIV. PRINCE AUGUSTUS AT COPPET, 432 
 
 XV. THE SICK HERO, 449 
 
 XVI. THE FLIGHT, 4G2 
 
 XVTT, THE EAGLE AT THE TUILERIES, 471 
 
 XVHI. THE LAST DREAM oy LITE, 477
 
 MADAME DE STAEL 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE DEATH OF LOUIS XV. 
 
 Natura la fece e poi rv.ppe la stampa. It was a dull, close, 
 overcast clay. A drizzling rain thickened the atmosphere and 
 enwrapped everything in a gray shroud. The first verdure of 
 May was sprouting, and the magnificent, shade-trees in the gar- 
 dens of the Tuilcries raised their heads more proudly as leaf 
 after leaf shot forth from their branches and hourly imparted a 
 more and more attractive appearance to them. 
 
 To-day, however, no one feasted his eyes on the fresh ver- 
 dure ; not an idler wended his way hither ; not a warm sun- 
 beam stole down from the overcast sky to kiss away the mois- 
 ture from the young leaflets. 
 
 The streets of Paris were deserted-, only pressing necessity 
 could induce any one to leave the shelter of his roof. Curiosity, 
 generally so imperious a mistress, raised its voice but feebly in 
 the face o f the storm raging without, and only a few persons 
 ventured into the streets to inquire after the health of Louis 
 the Fifteenth, who was so dangerously sick at Versailles that
 
 2 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 prayers for the salvation of his soul had already ascended to 
 heaven in all the churches of the capital. 
 
 All France was anxiously looking forward to the moment 
 when death would free the country from a King who had 
 brought it to the brink of ruin ; and when the news that Louis 
 the Fifteenth was dead, came at last, the people set no bounds 
 to their rejoicings. All requirements of propriety were disre- 
 garded ; the very laws were powerless in the face of this univer- 
 sal exultation ; and the Parisians laughed, when, outwardly at 
 least, they should have mourned. 
 
 "THE KING'S GRANARY is FOR RENT!" 
 
 Such was the inscription which a wit had written in large 
 letters on the entrance of the Halles, and all passers-by stood 
 still to enjoy the joke. 
 
 His successor, it was hoped, would not embark in corn spec- 
 ulation;?, so injurious to the welfare of the people ; the prices 
 of grain would fall, and bread would be cheap ; the people lodked 
 forward to the future with bright anticipations of better days. 
 
 ."Madame Du Barry had departed ; there was no longer a Pare 
 aux cerfs; virtue and innocence were no longer in danger of 
 falling victims to arbitrariness, and law and order were to pre- 
 vail once more. Heartfelt joy reigned everywhere. 
 
 While such and similar thoughts engrossed the minds of the 
 people ; while the rich as well as the poor hopefully looked for- 
 ward to the future ; while all France, as if freed from a heavy 
 burden, drew a deep breath of relief, Louis the Sixteenth ascend- 
 ed a throne which rested on foundations undermined by Vol- 
 taire and the philosophers of the eighteenth century, when it 
 had need of the strongest props ; and these the unfortunate 
 King was not to find during the whole of his eventful reign. 
 
 The multitude was unable to penetrate the critical condition
 
 THE DEATH OF LOUIS XV. 3 
 
 of the country ; individuals, misled by appearances, kept only 
 their personal circumstances in view ; and the public consists 
 of such individuals. 
 
 Only thinkers, philosophers, and statesmen, gravely exam- 
 ined the true state of affairs, and weighed its effects upon the 
 future of the country. The results of their investigations were 
 disheartening in the extreme, and added greatly to their appre- 
 hensions. 
 
 Among those who inquired in this manner into the condition 
 of France, at the death of Louis the Fifteenth, there was a for- 
 eigner who, by means of adroit commercial speculations, had 
 succeeded in amassing a considerable fortune in the course of 
 a few years. To be better able to carry on these speculations, 
 he had familiarized himself with the financial condition and 
 resources of the state ; and this knowledge taught him how 
 to weigh the present with calmness and penetration, and to in- 
 quire what steps should be taken in order to fill the depleted 
 treasury. Little did he imagine, in adding figure to figure, 
 how closely every cipher he wrote was to be connected with 
 his own fortunes. What was now to him a mere pastime to 
 while away his leisure hours, what he hastily jotted down in 
 order to test his own financial ability, was to attract one day 
 the attention of all Europe, and to become the turning-point of 
 his career. 
 
 The foreigner whom we see engaged in these calculations 
 at the accession of Louis the Sixteenth, was still in the prime 
 of life. He was a native of Geneva, where the Necker family 
 lived in somewhat reduced circumstances. Educated for the 
 mercantile career, he had gone to Paris at an early age and 
 obtained a situation at the counting-house of Thellusson, the 
 banker; afterwards he was also appointed Consul of Switzer- 
 land an office neither important nor lucrative.
 
 4 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 Young Necker, however, had already known how to pro- 
 vide for himself in a different manner. He was a born finan- 
 cier, and circumstances greatly favored his speculations. He 
 was not long in amassing considerable wealth, and married 
 Mademoiselle Curchod, a beautiful young country-woman of 
 his. 
 
 This young lady was the daughter of a Swiss preacher, a 
 strict Calvinist, and possessed no other fortune than the excel- 
 lent education which her father himself had given to her. She 
 was a most accomplished woman, and possessed scientific 
 knowledge such as young ladies seldom acquire. Brought up 
 like a boy, she was perfectly able to meet the grave demands 
 of a life requiring her to provide for herself. 
 
 For a time she was at the head of a small school in her 
 native country ; she then had an opportunity of going to 
 Paris as companion to a wealthy lady, and here she became 
 acquainted with young Necker, whom she soon learned to love 
 with all her heart. So she was overjoyed when he proposed to 
 her, and she entered his house as the happiest of wives. 
 
 A new world arose before her in the brilliant capital of 
 France. But what a world it was ! Brought up in the aus- 
 tere principles peculiar to the Calvanists of the small republic 
 of Geneva, she wished beyond measure to see what Parisian soci- 
 ety permitted itself, and how much those who wished to belong 
 to the Bon-Ton had to permit themselves ; and she then began 
 to reflect on the course she had to pursue in order to assimi- 
 late herself to the peculiarities of this strange society. 
 
 Ignorant of Parisian manners, she possessed few of the attrac- 
 tions peculiar to fashionable French ladies. Neither her bear- 
 ing nor her way of expressing herself indicated a woman 
 brought up in the highly refined sphere of Parisian society. 
 Her toilet was wanting in elegance, her bearing in pleasing, and
 
 THE DEATH OF LOUIS XV. 5 
 
 her politeness in winning grace ; in short, her mind and man- 
 ners were too much those of a learned woman to appear to 
 great advantage. 
 
 But, in return, modesty, candor, and kind-heartedness distin- 
 guished her in the most favorable manner. 
 
 A moral education and thorough instruction had fully devel- 
 oped the noble gifts of her heart and mind. Her sentiments 
 were pure and faultless ; but she did not know how to express 
 them in attractive words. 
 
 Method and regularity were the rules of her duties. Every- 
 thing about her was measured and systematic ; even in jesting 
 she rarely exceeded certain bounds, and used the language 
 and tone of a school-mistress even in her salon. 
 
 She was pained to notice how her bearing and manners were 
 at variance with those of other ladies of her age ; and yet she 
 was unable to bring about the change for which she longed. 
 She was anxious to please others, in order to please her hus- 
 band the better. She trembled at the thought that his eyes 
 might discover what was wanting' in her. She, therefore, took 
 the utmost pains to be amiable, kind, and chatty, in order that 
 he, too, might find her so ; unfortunately, however, she was 
 unable to conceal these studied efforts from the eyes of others, 
 and so they were not appreciated. 
 
 Their wealth was constantly on the increase ; they moved 
 into a very fine house, and desired to extend the circle of their 
 acquaintances. Necker himself was not the man to form a 
 brilliant circle of friends. Educated for the mercantile career, 
 he was deficient in general culture. Accustomed to the myste- 
 rious operations of the banking business, and absorbed in the 
 calculations of commercial speculations, he knew but little of 
 the world, held intercourse with very few friends, had no time 
 for reading books, and was but superficially informed of what-
 
 MADAME DE STAET,. 
 
 soever was foreign to his business. Prudence and self-love, 
 tberefore, caused bim to be reserved in conversation, and be 
 avoided expressing bis views wbenever topics with wbicb 
 he was not familiar were alluded to. This reserve of his wa^ 
 looked upon as pride, although it was but prudence that coun- 
 seled him to keep silence whenever be knew bis knowledge to 
 be deficient. , 
 
 Madame Necker was desirous of offering to her husband, 
 after his grave labors at his counting-house were over, the recre- 
 ation of a pleasant social circle in her salon. Her tastes caused 
 her to look upon savants and artists as the persons best fitted 
 for this purpose ; but to attract men of this class was by no 
 means easy. It is true, a young and beautiful lady has many 
 opportunities of getting acquainted with distinguished men, 
 but such acquaintances rarely ripen into the sort of digni- 
 fied intimacy which she was desirous to bring about ; and the 
 stiff and pedantic manners of the young daughter of Switzer- 
 land seemed to add greatly to the difficulties of such an under- 
 taking. 
 
 She had hitherto had but one friend, Thomas, the academi- 
 cian, whose acquaintance she had formed at the house of her 
 protectress, shortly after her arrival in Paris. The bearing 
 and manners of M. Thomas were no less formal than her own, 
 and so she felt particularly attracted toward him. One day 
 she confessed to htm the plan she had conceived, and the diffi- 
 culties she would have to meet in carrying it into effect. 
 
 That she wished to exert a refining and ennobling influ- 
 ence on her husband, and to elevate his mind by bringing 
 him in contact with distinguished men, met with his cordial 
 approbation, and he promised to assist her to the best of his 
 ability. 
 
 Whenever he was invited to Necker's house, he begged per-
 
 THE DEATH OP LOUIS XV. 7 
 
 mission to bring a friend with him, and soon visitors were no 
 longer wanting to the house. 
 
 Madame Necker was overjoyed, although she took good care 
 not to betray her exultation. She was too distrustful of her 
 tact to permit herself a word, a remark, a smile, that was not 
 the result of deliberation, but appeared on her lips on the spur 
 of the moment. 
 
 She resolved to strain every nerve in order to render her 
 house as attractive as possible to the most eminent men ; but 
 it was not for her own sake that she took this resolution. She 
 wished to see her husband play a brilliant role ; she wished to 
 impart to him, by means of this social circle, a nimbus which 
 was to deceive him as to his own talents, and to make an au- 
 thor and litterateur of the banker. In this respect she was an 
 excellent Lady Macbeth. 
 
 She never tired of praising and encouraging him. To all ho 
 said and did, she added comments surrounding even his most 
 insignificant actions with a radiant halo. She wanted others 
 to respect, revere, and love him as she loved him, and she was 
 indefatigable in her efforts to convert the world to her own 
 opinion. 
 
 Necker did not interfere with her. He silently accepted her 
 homage, and allowed his beautiful yotmg wife to erect alters to 
 him. It is so sweet to be praised. Madame Necker knew the 
 secret of making her wedded life a happy one, and turned her 
 knowledge to good account. Her husband, upon whom all 
 her thoughts and feelings, were concentrated, could no longer 
 do without her, and she promoted his happiness in every pos- 
 sible manner. 
 
 She taught him to believe in himself, and to find in his mind 
 faculties whose existence he had never suspected up to this 
 time ; she convinced him that he was endowed with all kinds
 
 8 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 of talents, and that it depended only on himself to turn them 
 to account ; and the future proved the power of her love and 
 confidence. 
 
 Necker's bearing toward his guests was stiff and reserved. 
 His wife noticed it, and tried to make amends for his conduct 
 by redoubling her own politeness. The conversation with their 
 visitors being left to her alone, it was often very difficult for 
 her to prevent unpleasant pauses ; and whenever the conversa- 
 tion in her salon flagged, her uneasiness and anxious air betray- 
 ed the painful impression it made upon her mind. 
 
 Necker, however, seemed to notice neither her confusion nor 
 her generous efforts ; and it was this circumstance that com- 
 forted her when, in her despondency, she was ready to charge 
 herself with being deficient in talent and vivacity to throw the 
 kindling spark into the midst of her guests. 
 
 Her caution always prevented her from uttering rash re- 
 marks. 
 
 She had given birth to a daughter a year after their wedding. 
 The young wife looked anxiously at her husband ; she was 
 fearful lest a daughter should be unwelcome to him "God has 
 given her to us," he said ; and with an air of fervent gratitude 
 he pressed the little creature to his heart. 
 
 She was to remain their only child. 
 
 Cherished and petted, she grew up a chubby, healthy child, 
 with whom her father liked to play as soon as the grave labors 
 of the day were over. 
 
 His accounts grew more and more extensive, his calcula- 
 tions more and more intricate and exhausting; and, therefore, 
 as soon as he had closed his books, he delighted in the innocent 
 prattle of his child. 
 
 The millions which he had amassed by this time rendered it 
 incumbent on him to be very careful in the investments which
 
 THE DEATH OF LOUIS XV. 9 
 
 he made, and, as a matter of course, in his financial operations 
 he never lost sight of the political horizon. When Louis the 
 Fifteenth died, the welfare of France was already indirectly 
 connected with that of Necker ; and as he now, at the acces- 
 sion of the new sovereign, examined the political and financial 
 condition of the State once more, self-interest was a leading 
 motive of his, and he found that his fortunes, in a great mea- 
 sure, were linked with the fate of France.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 NECKER'S SALON. 
 
 FOR some time past, Madame Necker had received at her 
 house every Friday a small circle of friends, among whom there 
 were some of the most eminent men of that period. To-day, 
 for the first time, her salon had remained deserted, and she now 
 turned her eyes toward the door, hoping that some guests 
 might still enter the room. 
 
 Bright flames were blazing in the large fire-place, despite the 
 vernal verdure in which nature was already clad. Close to the 
 fire, his hands folded at his back, stood M. Necker, engaged in 
 an animated conversation with Baron Grimm, whose effemi- 
 nate features, painted cheeks, and courtly deportment contrasted 
 singularly with the short, heavy-set, and common-looking figure 
 of the honest Genevan. They were speaking of a topic which 
 engrossed to-day the thoughts of all Parisians. The news of the 
 death of King Louis the Fifteenth had reached their ears, too, 
 and both commented gravely on the condition of poor France 
 at the close of this long and calamitous reign, which Frederick 
 the Great had jocularly called the reign of the three cotillons.* 
 Madame Necker participated, to-day, but very little in the 
 conversation ; nay, contrary to her habit, she scarcely seemed 
 to listen to it attentively. She sat leaning back in her large 
 comfortable easy-chair and played with her fan, now opening it. 
 now closing it, and now screening her eyes with it from the 
 
 * " Mcinoiics dc la Du Barry." Vol. II., p. 42. "Memoires dc Madame 
 
 Kcckcr tic SmisMiiv. 1 '
 
 NECKER'S SALON. 1 1 
 
 flames in tlie fire-place. The expression of her face showed 
 plainly that she was absorbed in reflections which carried her 
 far away from what was passing around her. 
 
 At her side, on a small wooden footstool, sat her only child, 
 a little girl of eight, cutting all sorts of figures out of a sheet 
 of paper. She had placed her stool in such a manner that the 
 back of the easy-chair covered her almost entirely, and concealed 
 her from the eyes of her from whom, it seemed, she wished to 
 hide what she was doing. A smile of satisfaction lit up the 
 features of the child. While her full, fresh cheeks crimsoned 
 still more, she suddenly jumped up from her seat, and exclaim- 
 ed joyously, " Oh ! look at this, Papa ! It looks just like the lit- 
 tle Abbe Eaynal, does it not ? You would have recognized him, 
 I am sure, even if I had not told you whom it is intended to 
 represent ?" 
 
 Necker turned kindly to the little girl ; all bitterness and 
 gravity disappeared from his features as he seized the paper 
 figure and said, " Indeed, my dear Germaine, this is a veiy 
 pretty little figure, and, although it does not resemble our friend, 
 it resembles the bad class of men to whom he belongs, and who 
 are even worse than he. Would to God we had those gentle- 
 men as much in our power as I now hold this paper image." 
 
 These words attracted Madame Necker's attention. She had 
 raised herself, so that her exceedingly tall hair-dress, which was 
 adorned with plumes and bows, towered over the back of her 
 easy-chair. She exclaimed in a warning, reproachful tone, 
 " Germaine, how impertinent you are ! How could you inter- 
 rupt the very interesting conversation of the gentlemen in such 
 an absurd manner ?" 
 
 " Never mind her," said M. Necker. " She wanted some one 
 to share her joy, and so she went of course to her father." 
 
 The little girl fixed her large, black eyes with a grateful
 
 12 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 expression on M. Necker, and then quietly sat down again. 
 She knew that this was the best way of soothing her angry 
 mother. 
 
 At this moment, the door of the salon opened, and several 
 guests entered without being announced. One of them, a cor- 
 pulent little man with a light-colored wig and blue eyes lying 
 deep in their sockets, hastened with a quick step through the 
 room, bowed to Madame Neeker, and seizing little Germaine's 
 hands, squeezed them heartily, and imprinted a kiss on the fore- 
 head of the child, who seemed to be accustomed to this affec- 
 tionate salute. 
 
 " How late I " exclaimed M. Necker, as soon as the new-comer 
 turned to him. " I thought already you had been called to 
 Versailles, my dear Raynal, to assist in relieving the con- 
 science of the dying King." 
 
 " The King would have rued it, for I should have refused 
 him absolution," exclaimed Raynal, laughing. " Their maj- 
 esties know already whom to apply to under such circum- 
 stances. But, although I was not called to Versailles, I have 
 been hard at work all day for the King in order to he able to 
 give full particulars of his death in to-morrow's issue of my 
 paper. His death was very tragic, almost too tragic for a sim- 
 ple mortal. Providence might have dispatched two poor sin- 
 ners with what it inflicted upon him alone. But things that 
 have happened cannot be altered. He has enjoyed the good 
 things that fell to his share, and I do not envy them to him." 
 
 " What did you ascertain about him ? " inquired M. Necker. 
 
 " Little or much, as you please. It was very difficult to ob- 
 tain authentic news about his condition. Madame Helvetius, 
 the Abbe Morellet, and some other friends of mine, went to dine 
 at, Sevres, where they would be closer to the source of news ; 
 lor the couriers, who were hourly dispatched from Versailles,
 
 NECKEE'S SALON^ 13 
 
 halted there in order to change horses, I was requested to 
 accompany them, and should have done so had I not thought 
 that the trip would take too much of my valuable time. And 
 then they were not very successful. Mademoiselle Espinasse, 
 who was also there, met me an hour ago, and did not know 
 much more about it than I. I congratulated her on our hav- 
 ing at last been delivered from the reign of the King's mis- 
 tresses ; but she shook her head and replied with a very gloomy 
 air, ' My dear Abbe, the future may have worse things in store 
 for us.' * I laughed at her fears. ' You must have a very lively 
 imagination to think such things likely,' I replied to her. A 
 man could not have made that remark. The poor lady takes 
 too gloomy a view of the new era that is dawning upon us." 
 
 " And the view you take of it is too rose-colored," said Neck- 
 er, laughing. 
 
 " Well, perhaps it is ; but then the course of my own life cer- 
 tainly justifies me in taking such a view of the future. Imag- 
 ine the life I led at St. Sulpice's, where I had to read a mass for 
 eight sous at six o'clock in the morning in midwinter, in order 
 not to starve to death. What would have become of me but 
 for my hopes in the future ? . Tell me, my dear friend Necker, 
 if any man could have borne such a life without the firm con- 
 victipn that better days awaited hpm ? Hope is the most 
 essential element of my life." 
 
 " Well, well, my dear Raynal," replied Necker, gravely but 
 good-humoredly. " I believe you found some other means than 
 hope to render your condition less intolerable." 
 
 " What if I did ? Necessity has no law," said Raynal, shrug- 
 ging his shoulders. 
 
 " It seems to me, that is not exactly in cousonaucc with 
 Christian principles," replied Necker, laughing. 
 * " Mcmoirua do 1'Abbe Morcllct," p. 25. Hayniil. Biographic Universelle.
 
 14 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 " He who falls into the water must not ask what hand is to 
 save him from drowning," said the Abbe, merrily. " As tin* 
 living acted so niggardly toward me, I had to apply to the 
 dead ; and it was this, I suppose, that you intended to allude 
 to ; for the rest, it was a mere trifle, that sum of sixty francs, 
 for which I permitted such a sinner to be buried in consecrated 
 ground. Do you not think so, too ? " 
 
 " To be sure, it was very little," replied Necker, to whom 
 this conversation with the Abbe seemed to afford pleasure ; 
 " and yet it was enough to bring about your removal." 
 
 " That was the best effect it had ; for since then, I am sure 
 I have become another man," replied the Abbe, with an air of 
 self-satisfaction. " Had they not removed me, and thereby de- 
 prived the church of one of its best pillars, I should not have 
 become editor of the Mercure de France, nor written my His- 
 tory of Philosophy. So the world should thank the church for 
 restoring me to it that I might glorify our enlightened age. 
 But the world is ungrateful ; it does not appreciate its great 
 men until they are dead, and sometimes not even then. Look 
 at your free Switzerland ; what has it done for its heroes ? 
 What monuments immortalize the intrepid soldiers that fought 
 at Morgarten, or the names of Walter Furst and Tell ? ' Ettu 
 Brute? I might say to yo in this respect, and I do not believe 
 you could find a word to defend yourself." 
 
 " If I could not, my wife certainly could," replied Necker, 
 laughing. " She will intrepidly defend the honor of her native 
 country. Let us allow her to enjoy this little triumph, which I 
 gladly leave to her." 
 
 Madame Necker did not hear this remark. The tall, grave 
 gentleman who had entered with the Abbe Raynal, after bowing 
 to the lady of the house, had stood still beside her chair and 
 entered into conversation with her.
 
 NECKER'S SALON. 15 
 
 " I had already abandoned the hope of seeing you here to- 
 night, Thomas," said Madame Necker to him in an undertone. 
 
 " It would have been the first time when 1 should have vol- 
 untarily renounced the pleasure of being in your society," 
 replied the gentleman, in the singularly emphatic tone in 
 which he uttered every word. 
 
 A smile of satisfaction overspread the cold features of 
 Madame Necker at these words ; but it was not long in disap- 
 pearing and giving place to her habitual polite expression. She 
 replied in a very calm tone : 
 
 " I know how to appreciate your kindness toward me, my 
 dear Thomas. However, it was but natural for me to suppose 
 that the curiosity which impelled so many persons to-day to 
 leave the city, and go to meet the couriers, had induced you to 
 do so too, especially as Madame Geoffrin accompanied that 
 party to Sevres. The greater is the pleasure which your arrival 
 affords me. I suppose you did not dine at Sevres, then ? " 
 
 " Of course not," exclaimed Thomas, gravely. " It was 
 nothing to me to hear the news of the King's death an hour 
 sooner or later ; and I look upon the death of a man especially 
 a man upon whom such a terrible responsibility rests as upon 
 this King as such a grave matter that I cannot treat it as a 
 subject fit for frivolous conversation." 
 
 " You express my own sentiments," replied Madame Necker, 
 approvingly. " In my own mind, too, the King's death has 
 given rise to very grave reflections. Louis the Fifteenth 
 brought France to the verge of ruin. How is his successor to 
 save it ? Nothing but a miracle, it seems to me, could do that ; 
 and miracles, unfortunately, do not happen any longer." 
 
 " Let us hope for the best," replied Thomas, gravely. If 
 France has declined in some respects, it has made immense 
 progress in others. The sphere of science has expanded wonder-
 
 10 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 fully, and the country abounds in gifted men, whose works 
 rank with the best productions of any age. Posterity will look 
 back with astonishment upon our glorious achievements ; and 
 our contemporaries render already, well-deserved homage to 
 the authors of our great Encyclopedia. We must not lose sight 
 of this, my esteemed friend ; we must not shut our eyes to the 
 bright sides of our age, which bears so many great and prom- 
 ising germs in its bosom." 
 
 " But, in return, it robs us of something vital and essential 
 of our faith in the hand of God in history. Science cannot 
 indemnify the people for what philosophy took from it ; for it 
 does not enter the hearts it does not reach the lower strata of 
 human society. "We should not deceive ourselves on this head, 
 my excellent friend." 
 
 " Science may be popularized, and it will be," replied Thomas, 
 emphatically. " The fruits which civilization matures are des- 
 tined for everybody. Let us await their ripening. Nations 
 become what their governments want to make them, and ulti- 
 mately must make of them. Rousseau did not write his Con- 
 trat Social and Emile in vain. The Government will see that 
 poverty* and anarchy are two social Titans that can be re- 
 sisted most successfully by giving schools to the people." 
 
 A loud burst of merriment behind them interrupted them at 
 this moment. Little Germaine had crept close up to the corpu- 
 lent Abbe and fastened a long strip of paper to his wig. 
 "Whenever the vivacious little man, in his conversation with 
 M. Necker, moved his head, the strip of paper danced on his 
 black coat, and caused the mischievous girl to burst into loud 
 laughter. 
 
 Madame Necker did not see immediately what had happened ; 
 she heard only the merry laughter of her child, and exclaimed 
 in a grave, warning tone, " Germaine ! "
 
 NECKEll's SALON. 17 
 
 The little girl paused immediately, and concealed herself 
 behind her father. 
 
 " Excuse niy daughter's impertinent jest, Abbe," said Mad- 
 ame Necker now ; and rose to remove the paper from his wig. 
 " The air of France seems to produce singular effects. In my 
 -native country no child would dare to jest in this manner with 
 a grave gentleman. I do not call to mind a single time when 
 even the idea of doing such a thing has occurred to me in my 
 childhood. Hence, I am at a loss to understand how my 
 daughter can permit herself such jests; salutary exhortations 
 are not wanting to her, and I try to educate her in such a man- 
 ner as to awaken her mind, and fill her with admiration for the 
 gifted men whom she is fortunate enough to see at her father's 
 house. So it is not my fault, if her conduct is not in keeping 
 with the pains I am taking with her education." 
 
 " Wisdom does not come prematurely," said M. Necker, 
 looking kindly at his child, whose large, radiant black eyes 
 gazed up to him confidingly. " You expect too much of her. 
 Her thoroughly healthy nature revenges itself by such little 
 jests, for which our dear Abbe will not be angry with his young 
 friend." 
 
 Raynal held out his hand to the child, who seized it and warm- 
 ly pressed it to her lips. 
 
 Madame Necker shook her head disapprovingly. " That 
 constantly overflowing heart of hers ! " she said in such a low 
 voice that only Thomas heard her words ; " How is it ever to 
 learn prudence ? My child's character refutes what Rousseau 
 says about the rights of nature. If I should fail in compelling 
 her now, already, to regulate with her head the pulsations of 
 her impetuous heart, her unbridled passions might make her 
 one day very miserable. You appreciate my efforts in this 
 direction, do you not ? You have written such an able history
 
 18 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 of our sex ; you have shown so strikingly what we were at all 
 times, and, again, what we should be; and so urgently recom- 
 mended to us moderation in all things. Would to God I could 
 teach my child to realize the ideal which you have depicted to 
 us." 
 
 " In order to do so, she has only to imitate the example you 
 set to her," replied Thomas in a measured tone, strangely ;il . 
 variance with the meaning of his words, which did not escape 
 the ear for which they were destined.
 
 CHAPTER IIL 
 
 THE VISIT TO THE SICK-ROOM. 
 
 A SERIOUS malady had confined Madame Necker for several 
 weeks to her bed ; and when she was out of danger, her recov- 
 ery proceeded but very slowly. With great impatience she 
 looked forward to every new day, hoping it would at length 
 bring her the strength which she needed so urgently to attend 
 to her domestic duties as heretofore. She was aware that her 
 husband missed her very much; she knew that her friends 
 painfully felt her absence ; and still her physician admonished 
 her to be quiet and patient ; still he demanded that she should 
 take upon herself no other task and duty than that of taking 
 care of her health. 
 
 Madame Necker sighed at these demands. She had con- 
 stantly enjoyed the best of health, and could now scarcely bear 
 to be seen by anybody in her present state of weakness. 
 
 Sickness had rendered her naturally delicate complexion al- 
 most transparent ; her clear blue eyes seemed to have grown 
 larger, and the outlines of her handsome features had become 
 more marked and angular. Stretched out on a chaise longue, 
 her head resting on her small white hand, she thoughtfully 
 gazed into vacancy. 
 
 Suddenly the door opened softly, and Necker, first looking] 
 cautiously into the room in order to see if she was asleep, step- 
 ped in. 
 
 " How are you, my dear ? " he asked, tenderly.
 
 20 MADAME I>E STAEL. 
 
 " I am better," she replied, kindly. " You shall not miss me 
 much longer." 
 
 " Hush, hush," he said doprecatingly. " I do not mean that. 
 But you yourself need no longer to lead such a solitary life. 
 We are at liberty to divert you I and your other friends. 
 Thomas is down stairs; may he come up?" 
 
 " I believe it will not hurt me to see him." 
 
 " Very well, I shall send him to you. He can tell you plenty 
 of news." 
 
 " Oh, that is not what I care for. Above all things, I long 
 to know what you, my friend, are doing. You are silent." 
 
 Necker, smiling, pressed his finger to his lips. 
 
 " Then I am not to learn yet what the King wanted of you ? 
 If he offered you an office, and if you accepted his- offer ? Oh, 
 it is very hard for a wife not to be able to stand by her hus- 
 band's side at the very time when fate at length bestows on him 
 the position due to his merits, and a career in which he is able 
 to turn his talents to account, opens before him. How glad 
 I should have been to share all this with you just now ! I 
 should have cheered you in your grave labors, and comforted 
 j'ou in your struggle with the difficulties with which your 
 path is beset. And now I am lying here, not only helpless, 
 but in need of help. When I call to mind how much you have 
 done for me, how I owe all my happiness to you alone, and 
 how greatly I shall always be indebted to you, it is mortifying 
 to me in the extreme to be unable to show you how faithful 
 and affectionate a w r ife you possess in me. Do not pay any 
 attention to what the doctor says, Necker. Pray, do not heed 
 him ! Speak to me, confide in me ! Where could you find 
 anybody worthier of your confidence? Do not go with your 
 cares to strangers ; do not accustom yourself to confide to 
 others what I alone should know."
 
 THE VISIT TO THE SICK ROOM. 21 
 
 " See, see how greatly my mere presence excites you," gently 
 said M. Necker, laying his hand, as if soothingly, on the higli 
 and beautiful forehead of his wife. " Have patience for a few 
 days yet, and you shall know all ; you shall share my cares as 
 formerly, and I hope my joys too. In the meantime, I am 
 taking pains to pursue a course worthy of you, dearest. I hope 
 you will approve it." 
 
 " Necker ! " exclaimed his wife, gazing at him with a touch- r 
 ing expression of tenderness, while she drew his hand from 
 her forehead, and pressed it to her lips. " I do not deserve so 
 much kindness. So you are content with what has happened 
 to you recently ? " 
 
 " I am as content as a man who is going to perform impor- 
 tant duties should be. But where is Germaine ? Marmontcl 
 is waiting for her in the solan." 
 
 " She is in her room. It is so difficult for her to be as quiet 
 as I have to ask her to be ; so I sent her to her own room. I 
 grieve very often, Necker, to see that my education does not 
 bear the fruits which I expected. I am quite unable to over- 
 come the child's impulsive nature." 
 
 " Pray do not even attempt to do so, dearest. Your daughter 
 is her father's image ; I recognize myself daily more and more 
 in her ; so you would pay me a very sorry compliment by tell- 
 ing me that you dislike the peculiarities of her nature. Every 
 tree has a bark of its own. Just give her full liberty, and you 
 will live to see the day when she will bear the most splendid 
 fruits. But this is likewise a point on which we shall no 
 longer converse." 
 
 lie imprinted a kiss on her forehead and left the room. 
 
 A few minutes afterward, Thomas came in. He saluted his 
 fair friend gravely, pressed her hand respectfully to his lips, 
 and moved a chair to her side.
 
 22 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 " How long it is since we have met," said Madame Necker. 
 " I was already prepared to set out on my last journey. But 
 God has been merciful enough to postpone it for the present." 
 
 " M. Necker requested me to cheer you ; to divert you by tell- 
 ing you some entertaining news, and to avoid any serious con- 
 versation. Permit me to fulfill his wish that it may be vouch- 
 safed to me to pay frequent visits to your sick-room. It was 
 very painful for me, during the last few weeks, to feel that 
 I had no right to offer you services which my sympathy 
 prompted me to render to you. Grant me now at least the 
 comfort of being the first who may devote himself to your en- 
 tertainment," said Thomas, in a mild and, withal, grave tone. 
 
 There was a pause. For the first time in her life, Madame 
 Necker was at a loss for a reply. In her confusion, she played 
 with the sky-blue blanket that had been wrapped around her 
 feet, and leaned her head on her hand. 
 
 " Did you deliver any speeches at the Academy while I was 
 sick ? " she asked, after a while. 
 
 " None of any importance," he replied, " I was too deeply 
 afflicted at the loss of Madame Geoffrin ; and however earnestly 
 I strove to compose myself, I was unable to concentrate my 
 mind on a subject that was not so dear to my heart. So I have 
 left it to time to accomplish what my will was unable to do, 
 and meanwhile confined myself to working at the pages which 
 D'Alembert, the Abbe Morellet, and I are going to devote to 
 her memory." 
 
 " Will you permit me to read them ? " 
 
 " It will afford me the greatest pleasure to lay them at your 
 feet as soon as they are printed." 
 
 " The death of our lamented friend will leave a considerable 
 gap in our circle, particularly as we have lost Mademoiselle 
 D'Espinasse, whose wit and amiability we admired so much.
 
 THE VISIT TO THE SICK ROOM. 23 
 
 Who is now to lead our conversation as she used to do ? Her 
 loss is irreparable ; and I have been told she died in such a 
 terrible state of mind ! " 
 
 " It is but too true. They say that she had bestowed her 
 affections on a gentleman who did not love her." 
 
 " I am at a loss to understand how any lady, of genuine sen- 
 sibility, can do so. Perhaps the malicious world charges her 
 falsely with this inexcusable weakness." 
 
 " No, I believe the charge is true. It can be substantiated. 
 For the rest, this was not the first time when her heart led her 
 astray in this manner. I have been assured that she bestowed 
 her affections on other gentlemen, too, who refused to have 
 anything to do with her." 
 
 " Impossible ! " exclaimed Madame Necker, in surprise. 
 
 "Why should it be impossible?" asked. Thomas. "The 
 same thing happens so often to us men, that we can understand 
 very well how a lady may rashly fall in love with us." 
 
 " And the news that you were going to tell me ? " said Mad- 
 ame Necker, in order to turn the conversation into another 
 channel. 
 
 " I have plenty of news to tell you ; only I must reflect where 
 I had better begin. Gluck and Piccini are still waging their mu- 
 sical war ; and inasmuch as our young Queen Marie Antoinette 
 is of course very fond of German music, and intent on bring- 
 ing about its triumph, intrigues and all sorts of manoeuvres to 
 gain over adherents to either side, are not wanting. At the 
 Academy, in the coffee-houses, and at the literary soirees, 
 everybody speaks of this subject. A great many persons are 
 afraid of inviting guests, lest they should quarrel about Gluck 
 and Piccini, whose ' musical war ' has greatly disturbed the 
 harmony of our social life. Everybody is expected to side 
 either with Gluck or Piccini, and is judged accordingly. Our
 
 24 MADAME J)K STAEL. 
 
 friend Marmontcl has declared in favor of Piccini, and has 
 ever since been on the qui vice. The best thing one can do is 
 to avoid the subject entirely ; for the exasperation of the two 
 parties has already reached the highest pitch, especially since 
 the performance of Armide." 
 
 " I am very sorry to hear it. Such difficulties, even after the 
 cause has disappeared, leave a great deal of irritation in the 
 hearts of the contending parties. Now tell me something 
 more pleasant." 
 
 " Let me speak, then, of Voltaire, whose wit is as keen and 
 inexhaustible as ever. He is very anxious to go to Paris, and 
 hopes that his friends will encourage him to undertake the 
 journey. Louis the Sixteenth will not prevent him." 
 
 " At his age ! He is soon going to celebrate his eighty-fourth 
 birth-day." 
 
 " Nevertheless, he is still as vigorous as a young man. In a 
 very short space of time he recently wrote three pamphlets 
 and completed two tragedies. He is intent on having his 
 Irene and Alexis performed in Paris. The other day, at. Fer- 
 ney, he read them to his friends until 2 o'clock in the morning ; 
 he then went to bed and rose at nine as well and wide-awake 
 as ever. What do you say to that ? " 
 
 " It is wonderful, like the hale old man." 
 
 " Let me read to you now an article which he sent us the 
 other day for publication in the Courier de'F Europe. The 
 very style shows that Voltaire wrote it : 
 
 "'Louis the Fifteenth one evening took supper with a few 
 intimate friends at Trianon; they conversed about hunting; 
 and gunpowder having been mentioned, one of the guests said 
 it was a composition of saltpetre, sulphur, and charcoal. The 
 Duke de la Valliere asserted that good artillery powder con- 
 sisted of one part sulphur, as much charcoal, and five pails
 
 THE VISIT TO THE SICK KOO3I. 25 
 
 saltpetre, dissolved in well-filtered, well-evaporated aud well- 
 crystalized nitre.' 
 
 " ' How ludicrous it is,' said the Duke de Nivernois, * that 
 we should daily shoot grouse in the park at Versailles, aud 
 sometimes kill men or be killed in the same manner, without 
 knowing the material with which it is done,' 
 
 "'Oh, that is not so very wonderful,' replied Madame de 
 Pompadour; * I do not know either how the rouge with which * 
 I paint my cheeks is made, and I should be in a tempest of 
 perplexity were I to explain how the silken stockings which I 
 wear on my feet are made.' 
 
 " ' What a pity it is,' said the Duke de la Valliere, 'that his 
 Majesty the King confiscated the Dictionmre Encyclopedique, 
 for which we had paid one hundred Louis t?0r* ; it contained 
 answers to all our queries,' 
 
 " The King defended the confiscation. He had been informed 
 that the twenty-one folio volumes which were to be found on 
 the dressing-table of every lady, contained many things highly 
 dangerous to the State; so he had resolved to examine the 
 book before permitting any one to read it 
 
 "Toward the close of the supper he ordered a page to fetch a 
 copy of the dangerous work; three footmen carried the twenty- 
 one large volumes into the room. 
 
 " They looked for the article on gunpowder and found that 
 the Duke de la Valliere had been right Madame de Pompa- 
 dour read the article on rouge, and found that the Parisian 
 paint contained cochineal; and that used by the ladies of 
 Madrid, saffron. 
 
 "She found how her stockings were woven, and the ingfiii- 
 x)us process filled her with the utmost astonishment 
 
 " ' What a beautiful book ! ' she exclaimed ; ' Sire, you con- 
 fiscated this encyclopedia of the most useful knowledge, only
 
 26 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 in order to possess it alone, and to become the only Savant in 
 your kingdom.' 
 
 " All of the guests wished to examine the volumes ; they 
 pounced on them, as the sons of Ly corned es did on the riches 
 of Ulysses. They found everything in the book ; those who 
 had lawsuits pending could see already what the judgment 
 would be. The King found in them an enumeration of all the 
 prerogatives of his crown. 'In truth,' he said, 'I am at a 
 loss to understand how the ministers could tell me that this 
 was a dangerous book.' 
 
 " ' They did so only because it is an excellent, work,' replied 
 ,the Duke de Nivernois. ' They would not have raised their 
 voices against a trashy or indifferent book. When ladies de- 
 cry one of their sex, you may be sure that she is more beauti- 
 ful or brilliant than her adversaries.' 
 
 " Meanwhile the guests continued turning over the volumes, 
 and Count C. said in a loud voice: 'It was fortunate for you, 
 Sire, that during your reign there were men who possessed so 
 much knowledge and handed it down to posterity. These 
 volumes contain everything, from the manufacture of guns 
 down to the art of making pins, from the greatest down to 
 the most insignificant things. You ought to be thankful to 
 God for causing men to be born in your kingdom to render 
 such services to humanity. The other nations will have to 
 buy or re-print this encyclopedia. Deprive me of all my es- 
 tates, Sire, but pray leave me my encyclopedia.' 
 
 " ' But I have been told,' replied the King, ' that this useful 
 and excellent work is full of errors.' 
 
 " ' Sire,' said Count C., ' there were on your supper-table 
 to-night two bad dishes which we did not touch ; nevertheless ' 
 we had an excellent supper. Did you want us to throw the 
 whole repast out of the window on account of those two dishes ? '
 
 THE VISIT TO THE SICK ROOM. 27 
 
 " The King acknowledged the force of this argument. The 
 books were restored to their owners. Thus closed this pleas- 
 ant day. 
 
 " But envy and ignorance would not put up with their dis- 
 comfiture ; these two immortal sisters continued their hue and 
 cry, their cabals, their persecutions ; ignorance is never at a 
 loss for means when it is determined to fight. 
 
 " What was the consequence ? 
 
 " The work prohibited in France had four large editions 
 abroad, and yielded its publishers the enormous profit of 
 eighteen hundred thousand dollars." 
 
 " Excellent ! " said Madame Necker, when Thomas had con- 
 cluded, and put the journal containing Voltaire's article into his 
 pocket ; " and you read it so as to add to its impressiveness." 
 
 " You are kind enough to praise what my position requires 
 me to possess." 
 
 " Did Turgot really resign his portfolio ? Who is his suc- 
 cessor ? " 
 
 " I do not know, or rather, I am not at liberty to tell you," 
 replied Thomas, smiling. " Your physician does not want 
 anybody to talk politics with you, because your nerves cannot 
 bear it yet ; so an academician has been sent to you. Science 
 does not excite, it soothes." 
 
 " Something has happened, I know it," replied Madame 
 Necker, excitedly. " The King sent for Necker. I remember 
 it distinctly; I know that it is not a mere fancy of mine; I know 
 that he dressed for the purpose of appearing before his majesty. 
 But that is all I am able to call to mind, and no one will tell 
 me the result of the audience. Dear Thomas, do you not know 
 of a way to restore my health at the earliest moment, that my 
 friends need no longer conceal from me what I long so intensely 
 to learn ? "
 
 28 MADAME DE 8TAEL. 
 
 " Indeed I ani happy enough to be able to serve you in this 
 respect," he replied, playfully. " There has recently arrived in 
 our city a stranger Mesmer is his name who influences his 
 patients by touching them with the tip of his finger, or, if they 
 prefer, by means of the notes of his harmonica, and gives them 
 or frees them from any disease they please.* This gentleman 
 has already created a great sensation in Germany. What 
 injures him here is the fact that he displaj's so little wit 
 and imagination. Even a doctor like him can no longer 
 succeed in Paris without possessing remarkable accomplish- 
 ments." 
 
 " But what is his wonderful power based on ? " asked Madame 
 Necker. " If he should not experiment on me in a manner in- 
 jurious to my health, I should gladly permit him to cure me in 
 his singular way." 
 
 " His opinion is that there is yet an unknown element influ- 
 encing and affecting our nerves ; according to this principle 
 there is also a reciprocal action between organic as well as in- 
 organic bodies. There is also a power of attraction, similar to 
 that of the magnet, between different human beings. It is this 
 animal magnetism, whose mysterious effects he has discovered, 
 that he now uses in curing diseases. What principles he fol- 
 lows in this respect he will explain to you personally when he 
 tests his art in your own case. Let me mention, however, that 
 he has found in Paris many persons on whom he is unable to 
 produce any effect, and I am afraid he will make the same dis- 
 covery in your case." 
 
 " What makes you think so? Why is Paris so unfavorable 
 to his cures ?" 
 
 " Because the currents of life are too violent and impetuous 
 here; we Parisians do not easily yield to our emotions, and do 
 
 * " Correspomlance Litteraire de Grimm et Diderot." B. iv., p. 218.
 
 THE VISIT TO THE SICK ROOM. 20 
 
 not suffer ourselves very often to be carried away by our ima- 
 gination." 
 
 " And you think Dr. Mesmer's whole art rests on nothing 
 but that ? " 
 
 " I am satisfied of it. Besides, Prince Gonzaga has arrived 
 with his wife, Gorilla, the celebrated improvisatrice, who was 
 crowned in Rome. You may imagine the sensation which she 
 is creating in society. All fashionable ladies and gentlemen are 
 flocking to her; all are desirous to form her acquaintance and 
 hear her; our friend Marniontel is one of her most enthusiastic 
 admirers." 
 
 " I hope she will remain for some time in Paris ; for I should 
 like to take my daughter to one of her performances. I wish 
 to make Germaine acquainted with distinguished ladies, that 
 she may imitate the example which they set to her. If we have 
 no goal before us, the path which we pursue often seems to 
 us so long and dreary ; mere duty possesses too few attractions 
 for the singular character of my child." 
 
 " You wish to educate your daughter so as to make a famous 
 lady of her. Is not thirst for fame a passion, too ? " 
 
 " You will admit at all events that it is a noble one." 
 
 " But withal a very dangerous one ; for it lives more than any 
 other on the applause of the multitude." 
 
 " At all events, I am anxious to prevent her imitating the 
 example of the Parisian women, who love with their heads and 
 think with their hearts. You know it was the Neapolitan 
 Embassador who said this of us." * 
 , " I remember ; but I do not believe that he included you." 
 
 Madame Necker blushed slightly. 
 
 "And how is our friend Rousseau ? Have you seen him 
 recently ? " 
 
 * " Grimm's Memoirs." B. iv.
 
 30 MADAME BE STAEL. 
 
 " He is not in Paris ; he is at Ermenonville, and I have been 
 told that he has become quite a hypochondriac. There is a 
 report that his confessions are about to be published in Holland ; 
 but he himself denies it, and says if the report is correct, some- 
 body must have purloined his manuscript. Doctor le Begue do 
 Presle, his intimate friend, rode out the other day to his house 
 in the country. When he inquired for Rousseau, the philoso- 
 pher crawled out of his cellar. Le Begue de Presle reproved 
 him for not leaving such little domestic duties at his age to 
 Madame Rousseau. " Oh," he replied, " when she goes down 
 to the cellar, she does not come back." 
 
 " Poor man ! I wish we could render him some assistance and 
 add to his comfort. But he rejects all offers." 
 
 " And what is worse, such offers irritate him and often make 
 him seriously angry. So we have to leave him alone." 
 
 " But will posterity not condemn us for it ? People at a dis- 
 tance do not see the difficulties obstructing our path." 
 
 " There are too many proofs in existence to justify our course. 
 But the hour during which I was allowed to stay with you has 
 expired. I will not exceed it, lest the physician should forbid 
 me to visit you again." 
 
 He bowed and left the room. Madame Necker looked thought- 
 fully after him.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE FESTIVAL. 
 
 M. NECKEB, wished to celebrate the recovery of his wife by 
 giving a brilliant festival, which was to take place on the clay 
 when she would first resume her place in the midst of her 
 social circle, and which was to show her in a touching manner 
 how dear she was to her family and to her acquaintances. All 
 had taken pains to contrive some little surprise and attention 
 for her; above all, Germaine could hardly await the hour when 
 her mother would enter the festooned salon where her daughter 
 was to wish her joy of her recovery. Dressed in white, her 
 dark hair adorned with roses, she had been there for an hour 
 already, counting the minutes up to the moment when her 
 mother would make her appearance. In her hand she held a 
 sheet of paper, on which she fixed her dark eyes every now and 
 then, as if trying to engrave the words written on it once more 
 upon her memory. Marmontel, Grimm, and Thomas were en- 
 gaged in an animated conversation in one of the window-niches. 
 They had been invited to take dinner with the family, while 
 the other guests were not to make their appearance till a later 
 hour. 
 
 M. Necker had gone to his wife's room in order to conduct 
 her to the salon. He had likewise prepared for her a little sur- 
 prise, which he now wished to communicate to her alone. He 
 entered her room with a solemn air; but no sooner had his eyes 
 fallen on her, than he forgot what he had intended to say to
 
 32 MADAME DE STAEI* 
 
 lier, and silently stood still before her. For the first time since 
 her sickness she was richly dressed, and hud chosen for her 
 costume a color which she had never worn before. Crimsou 
 satin sits well on blondes only when their complexion is fault- 
 less. The almost transparent paleness of her skin, caused by 
 her long confinement in the sick-room, now produced the most 
 favorable effect ; at the same time her fine blue eyes beamed so 
 brightly, and she looked so serene and animated in the blissful 
 consciousness that her former position at the head of her do- 
 mestic and social circle would be restored to her, that her ap- 
 pearance made a most fascinating impression. 
 
 " How beautiful you are ! " said M. Necker, at last, gazing at 
 the tall, queenly form of his charming wife. " Sickness has 
 certainly not impaired your charms." 
 
 She laid both hands on his shoulders, and gazed tenderly into 
 his eyes. 
 
 " Beauty and charms will pass away very, very soon ; for this 
 reason, my dearest friend, pray do not love in me only that 
 which is perishable, but also that which connects us for all time 
 to come. I must be the friend of your soul, an echo of your 
 better self, if I am to look forward to the future with courage 
 and confidence." 
 
 " You are to me all that, as sure as I live," said Necker, 
 gravely. "You have but one fault, and that is, that you will 
 never allow us to exercise the sweet privilege of forgiveness 
 toward you, too.* He who now and then has need of our in- 
 dulgence, thereby endears himself to us." 
 
 " That is a harsh remark, my friend. Then I should have to 
 be less perfect in order to please you still better ? How easy it 
 would be for me to play such a game ! But suppose I should 
 
 * "Notico stir le Caractere et tee Ecrit& tie Madame de StaeL" Vol. L, 
 p. 20.
 
 THE FESTIVAL. 33 
 
 make this first little deviation from the true path, how difficult 
 it would be for me to retrace my steps ! I know myself. I am 
 unable to take a light-hearted view of life; what I am, 1 am 
 with all my heart. Let me, then, belong to virtue, and devote 
 myself with all my heart to it and to you. Believe me, my 
 Mend, it will be none the worse for you." 
 
 " As if I did not know that, my dearest wife. Besides, my 
 censure was half a jest. But pray be seated now, and, to show 
 you how much I have missed you, let me relate to you how 
 much fate has suddenly elevated me, and what I have been 
 obliged to undertake and perform without your advice. The 
 King has sent for me, and intrusted the Finance Department 
 to me." 
 
 " I guessed it, I guessed it," exclaimed Madame Necker, 
 jubilantly. 
 
 " All France, nay, the whole world, has now fixed its eyes 
 on me, and calls upon me to save this country. I am as sensi- 
 ble of the burden of my responsibility as any man can be ; and 
 it added greatly to the gloom with which my solicitude for you 
 filled me during your sickness. It was a sad, sad time for me. 
 Thank God, the gloom, has cleared away, and daylight sur- 
 rounds me once more." 
 
 " And what did you propose to the King ? What changes 
 have you made ? " excitedly exclaimed Madame Necker, seizing 
 her husband's hand, and holding it between both of hers. 
 
 " I see that even now this intelligence excites you greatly ; 
 I was right, therefore, in withholding it from you," said M. 
 Necker, gravely. " Now you shall know all that has happened ; 
 only let us not allude to it any more to-day. Enjoy your- 
 self to-day, dearest; rejoice in the knowledge that your am- 
 bitious plans concerning me have been realized, and that a 
 vast field where I am able to prove whether or not I really 
 2*
 
 34 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 possess the talents which you attribute to me, has been opened 
 to me." 
 
 " Tell me only one thing : Is the King content with you ? 
 How does he treat you ? How does he behave himself? " 
 
 " Exceedingly well. I am a foreigner and Protestant ; I had 
 not yet filled any office here .except representing little Switzer- 
 land in this city ; so great prejudices had to be overcome." 
 
 " The greater the honor that awaits you." 
 
 " The more difficult, also, my position, dearest. But, thank 
 God, I have hitherto been exceedingly successful. All the 
 world is praising me. The public credit is gaining strength, 
 the financial condition of the country is daily improving, every 
 new decree eradicates old abuses, and we are fighting with fire 
 and sword the abominable practice which, for centuries past, 
 have prevailed in the administration of France. I have estab- 
 lished a new system of administration in Berry, which has cre- 
 ated a great sensation. All Paris is full of it. You will now 
 hear people talk a great deal about your husband. But you 
 must expect, too, to hear many of them comment unfavorably 
 on the course I am pursuing. There is no light without shade ; 
 and the brighter the sun shines, the darker is the shadow." 
 
 " I am speechless, Necker, speechless for joy ! To see your 
 merits fully recognized was my fondest wish." 
 
 " I am only afraid that public opinion may desert me sooner 
 or later. It is so fickle, and cannot be relied upon at all." 
 
 " It will not desert genuine merits, like yours, my friend." 
 
 " It is not faithful to them either, dearest. But pray accom- 
 pany me now to the salon. Our friends await you, and we 
 have already tried too long their impatient desire to greet 
 you." 
 
 He offered his arm to his wife. She accompanied him slowly 
 and thoughtfully.
 
 THE FESTIVAL. 35 
 
 At the door of the salon Necker stood still. Immediately the 
 folding-doors opened as if by a magician's wand, and under a 
 charming canopy of blooming shrubbery, Germaine stood be- 
 fore her mother, handed her a bouquet of the most beautiful 
 roses, and sui g the following verses, which Marmontel had 
 written for her, to an air from Figaro's " Wedding: " 
 
 Moi qui gofitais la vie avec delire, 
 Dans nn instant j'ai connu le malheur. 
 Belle maman, temoin de ta douleur, 
 J'ai dit: Pour moi la vie est un supplies. 
 
 En me donnant la plus digne des meres, 
 Ciel ! tu m'as fait le plus beau des presents ; 
 Daigae veiller sur ses jours bienfaisants, 
 Ou tes favours me seront trop ameres. 
 
 Oui, je crains moina la douleur pour moi-mgme, 
 A tous ses traits je suis prete a m'offrir. 
 Les plus grand^maux c'est ceux qu'on voit souffr 
 A des parents qu'on revere et qu'on aime, 
 
 De mille maux ressaim nous accorapagne, 
 Mais, sont-ils fait s pour un etre accompli f 
 Ah ! d'un objet de vertus si rempli 
 Que la sante soit au moins la compagne. 
 
 Dans les hameaux ou nous dit qu'elle habite 
 Et qu'elle suit la douce obscurite ; 
 De la nature en sa simplicite, 
 Jamais manian n'a passee la limite. 
 
 De leurs esprits 1'essence est impassible; 
 Ma mere a droit a cet heureux destin. 
 Ciel ! n'as tu pas reuni dans son sein 
 Un esprit pur avec un coeur sensible. 
 
 Un Dien toucbe de mon humble priere 
 A fait cesser le mal qui m'accablait. 
 Dans ce moment, hSlas ! il me semblait 
 Qu'un jour nouveau me rendait la lumiere. 
 
 J'ai reconnu combien mon ame est tendre ; 
 A quelque chose ainsi nxalheur est bon. 
 Dieu ! gardcz-moi de pareille le^on. 
 Jo. u'aurais pas la force de la prendre.
 
 3G MADAME DE STAET,. 
 
 M. Necker had added the fallowing Terse to MartnonteFs 
 poem: 
 
 De mon papa voyez 1'amour extreme ; 
 Rien, m'a-t-il dit r ne peut nous dtsunir, 
 Un seul instant ponrrait tout me ravir. 
 Ah ! par pitie, preuez soin de vous meme. 
 
 Madame Necker had listened attentively to her daughter's 
 song, fixing her beautiful eyes now on her child, and now on 
 her husband and the friends assembled in the background. 
 She now bent over her daughter, imprinted a kiss on her fore- 
 head, and whispered, " God bless you, my Germaine ! " She 
 then held out both hands to her guests, and welcomed them in 
 a few cordial and polite words. Marmontel, whose warm 
 heart would always overflow, pressed her white hand affection- 
 ately to his lips, and said, with tears in his eyes, " God be 
 praised for restoring you to us ! After so many terrible losses, 
 this blow would not have found me strong enough to survive 
 it. Since our dear GeoflVin and Mademoiselle de 1'Espinasse 
 have left us for evermore, fate could not take you from us like- 
 wise ! " 
 
 " Let us not speak of such sad subjects to-day, but let us re- 
 joice, my dear Marmontel," said Necker. " Come ! I have just 
 been informed that dinner is ready. Let us go to the table, 
 and in a glass of generous Kbenish wine, drink to oblivion of 
 the past and enjoyment of the present. Thomas, give your 
 arm to my wife; you, Marmontel, will offer yours to your little 
 bride Germaine, and I shall follow with Baron Grimm, who is 
 as tenderly devoted to me as if I were his mistress." 
 
 The distinguished gentleman to whom Necker had just 
 alluded, smiled. " At all events, my dear Necker, I am a very 
 faithful lover of yours; and for Ibis reason, I am sure, you will 
 forgive me for being neither hrindsome nor young." 
 
 "You are a regular nipid ; you have bamlngH your eyes,
 
 THE FESTIVAL. 37 
 
 and I follow your example. Friendship must be no more 
 keen-sighted than love." 
 
 Both of them, laughing, took their seats at the dinner-table, 
 and the host saw to it that his guests did not engage in a grave 
 conversation to-day. Madame Necker entered readily upon 
 all jests, and suffered to pass many a sally which she otherwise 
 would have frowned down. 
 
 " Our friend Raynal is not here yet," said M. Necker. " Un- 
 fortunately he could not be here as early as he desired, in- 
 asmuch as he intended to accompany hither a few guests 
 whose appearance was to afford an agreeable surprise to my 
 wife. I hope we shall afterwards find him in the salon." 
 
 No sooner had he uttered these words than Raynal, without 
 being announced, entered the room, and without further cere- 
 mony seated himself on his vacant chair at the small dinner- 
 table. 
 
 " Pray, do not let me disturb you," he exclaimed. " My 
 friends will quietly wait in the salon till I return to them. In 
 the meantime I may chat a little with you, and enjoy what has 
 been left," 
 
 " It is very amiable of you, my dear Abbe, to bring distin- 
 guished guests to our festival, and I am very grateful to you," 
 said Madame Necker, politely. Nevertheless, I am already . 
 happy enough to be again in the midst of my old, tried friends, 
 and it was scarcely necessary to add strangers to our circle." 
 
 " I believe you will not be dissatisfied with me," said 
 Raynal, smiling. 
 
 " Will you not .tell me at least what guests I shall have to 
 welcome in the salon? " 
 
 " If you insist on it, of course ; at all events, you would 
 have found it out in the course of a few minutes. Mesmer is 
 here, and his celebrated clairvoyant too."
 
 38 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 " You are jesting," exclaimed Madame Necker, in surprise. 
 
 "No, no, I am in dead earnest. I heard you were very 
 anxious to witness one of her very singular performances, and 
 so I thought I would add to the interest of to-day's festival by 
 bringing those two persons to your house. Prepare to make 
 the most wonderful discoveries in the world of spirits, to pene- 
 trate to-night all that hitherto was concealed from man both 
 in heaven and on earth, and to see the future revealed to your 
 eyes. Prepare, prepare ! " 
 
 " You were right, indeed, my dear Abbe ; nothing could be 
 more agreeable to me than to meet this celebrated man. 
 How does he look ? Describe him to me." 
 
 "He is a short, light-haired gentleman, whose appearance 
 does not indicate by any means the divine knowledge of 
 which he is possessed ; but still waters are deep." 
 
 While this conversation was going on in the dining-room, 
 Dr. Mesmer, absorbed in profound reflections, sat in Madame 
 Necker's salon, and caused his eyes to wander abstractedly 
 from one object to another. His companion, a pale young 
 girl with raven hair and the unmistakable appearance of a 
 morbid condition of her nervous system, was pacing the room 
 in great agitation. Finally she stood still in front of a corner- 
 table on which lay Madame Necker's fan and a small memo- 
 randum-book. She opened the former, held it to the light, 
 and admired its Chinese workmanship ; she then turned her 
 attention to the small memorandum-book. She took out the 
 pencil which held the ivory cover together, and turned over 
 the leaves. In order to read what was written on them, she 
 had to step closer to the window. She found on one page the 
 following words, written in a neat lady's hand: "To-day, on 
 my birthday, I must express to each of my friends in a diiFer- 
 ent manner how grateful I am for the sympathy manifested
 
 TI1E FESTIVAL. 39 
 
 toward me. * Besides, I have to allude particularly to what 
 has happened in the last two months, that they may perceive 
 that my sickness did not prevent me from taking the liveliest 
 interest in their welfare." Now followed the names of the 
 friends, with hints as to the remarks that might be made to 
 them in the course of the conversation. The young lady read 
 everything with close attention, and, while she was doing so, 
 a very peculiar smile played round her lips. She was ab- 
 sorbed in this occupation a long time, and did not lay down 
 the memorandum-book until a noise at the door indicated the 
 entrance of new guests. Madame Necker had just returned 
 from the dining-room, with the gentlemen and her little 
 daughter, who remained at her mother's side. She turned, in 
 the first place, to Dr. Mesmer, whom she bade welcome in a 
 few nattering words ; then, quickly taking her fan and the 
 memorandum-book, which she had laid on the table before 
 going to the diniug-room, she went to his young companion. 
 " Dr. Mesmer will be kind enough to show us, in connection 
 with you, Mademoiselle, the importance of the discoveries 
 which he has made," she said to the girl, who, bowing, replied 
 very humbly, "I am happy, Madame, to be called upon to 
 serve the light of truth, and I rejoice at the opportunity which 
 has been given to me thereby to meet one of the most 
 accomplished ladies of France." 
 
 At this moment Prince Gonzaga was announced. He en- 
 tered the room with his w 7 ife, the celebrated Gorilla. Madame 
 Necker now turned to these new guests, whom she received 
 almost awkwardly, in consequence of the too great pains she 
 took to appear perfectly at ease. The elegance with which a 
 native Parisknne moves in her nalon, is not acquired, but innate, 
 despite all her eflbris and preparations. Madame Necker wag 
 * " Mcmoiros de Morellet."
 
 40 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 frequently unable to strike the right key. The appearance of the 
 improvisatrice, moreover, made a profound impression on her. 
 The beautiful Princess wore a heavy dress of white satin, made in 
 the Greek fashion, and fastened at the waist only with a golden 
 belt; a tasteful wreath of green leaves adorned her curly 
 black hair ; she wore no gloves on her full, white arms, but had 
 iadorned them only with plain golden bracelets. A sweet 
 smile played round her beautiful lips when she kindly thanked 
 Madame Necker for the invitation tendered to her and her 
 husband. "Oh! I should thank you with all my heart for 
 accepting it," replied Madame Necker, " and my friend Mar- 
 montel, who was kind enough to act as mediator between us, 
 may rely on my fervent gratitude. Permit me, Princess, to 
 present to you my little daughter, who is so astonished at 
 what she has heard of your wonderful talent, that she cannot 
 sleep at night Germaine, kiss the hand of the Princess." 
 
 Gorilla gracefully held out her hand to Germaine, who 
 pressed it to her cherry lips. " How beautiful you are ! " she 
 then exclaimed, gazing up to the Princess with radiant eyes. 
 " Ah ! if I could be like you, how well I should please my 
 parents. Even though I learn a great deal, I shall never be 
 able to make so fascinating an impression." 
 
 " Child, child, how wildly you talk ! " said Madame Keeker, 
 soothingly. 
 
 " Do not blame your little daughter," said Corilla, kindly 
 laying her beautiful hand on the child's head. " She still 
 yields to her impressions ; how beautiful that is, and how soon 
 we unlearn it when we have entered the grave school of life. 
 When our illusions have vanished, our wishes disappear like- 
 wise, and our days creep along with intolerable slowness. 
 May that time be remote from her ! " 
 
 " And from you, too," interposed Marinontel. " The little
 
 THE FESTIVAL. 41 
 
 god must not allow your torch to sink very soon, either, 
 Princess." 
 
 " A poet like you should versify that idea on the spot," re- 
 marked Prince Gonzaga. 
 
 " If the presence of your esteemed consort did not make me 
 bashful, it would afford me pleasure to comply with your 
 Wish ; but, as it is, " 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders, smilingly. 
 
 " If that prevents you, I shall withdraw," said Gorilla, pre- 
 paring to walk away. 
 
 " No, no, Princess, I did not mean that. Even though you 
 should pass an unfavorable opinion on my feeble talent, I shall 
 try to do what I can." And he began : 
 
 L'amour est un enfant qui vit d' illusion, 
 
 La triste verite dctruit la passion ; 
 
 II vent qu'on le seduise, et non pas qu'on 1'eclaire. 
 
 Voila de son bandeau la cause et le mystere. 
 
 " Excellent ! " exclaimed the Prince and Gorilla, with one 
 accord ; and the other guests joined in their praise. Mean- 
 while, several new guests had arrived ; groups were chatting 
 here and there, and several persons were introduced to the dis- 
 tinguished strangers. Germaine, however, did not remain 
 to-day, as usual, at her mother's side. She clung to the beauti- 
 ful Gorilla ; she followed her as if perfectly fascinated, and did 
 not tire of expressing her intense admiration for her. The 
 expression of her countenance indicated that she was animated 
 with the fervent longing to become similar to this lady, and 
 that the child's mind ambitiously thirsted for such homage, 
 praise, and admiration as were bestowed upon Gorilla. 
 
 Such moments oftentimes leave profound echoes in the soul, 
 and we may take it for granted that Madame de Stael's 
 Corinne arose already on this evening hi the gifted mind of 
 Germaine Necker.
 
 42 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 Madame Necker had meanwhile entered into a conversation 
 with Thomas, while Mesmer, on the other side of the room, 
 was bringing the young lady, who had accompanied him to 
 Necker's house, into a magnetic sleep. All looked in eager 
 expectation, and conversation was soon hushed. Profound 
 silence reigned in the room. 
 
 Suddenly, Mesmer bent down to the girl's ear and asked her 
 to tell him what engrossed the thoughts of the lady of the 
 house. 
 
 " She is dissatisfied with herself, inasmuch as she did not 
 succeed in telling her guests all the polite things which she 
 had prepared to say to them." 
 
 " And what prevented her from so doing ? " asked Mesmer. 
 
 " Circumstances." 
 
 " Can you tell me what she intended to say, or what she did 
 say?" 
 
 " I will try." And slowly, and making long pauses, as if 
 trying to call everything to mind, she repeated every word 
 Madame Necker had uttered, adding to it what she had in- 
 tended to tell her guests, but what circumstances had pre- 
 vented her from saying. 
 
 Her audience were greatly surprised at this communication. 
 
 Thomas looked wonderingly at his beautiful, pale friend. 
 " Is it true, then, what she says ? " he asked in a low voice. 
 " Did this person really divine your most secret thoughts 
 without your having furnished her the key to them ? " 
 
 " I do not know her at all ; this is the first time that I have 
 seen her in my life, and I know no more of her than she 
 does of me," replied Madame Necker, in a low voice, trembling 
 with emotion. " I am astonished beyond measure. What 
 she says is a perfect enigma to me. Should the abnormal 
 state of her nervous system really impart to her soul the power
 
 THE FESTIVAL. 43 
 
 of discerning objects not perceptible by the senses, and of 
 seeing into the inmost recesses of the human mind ? " 
 
 " Such a power would frighten me," replied Thomas, 
 gravely. " Nor could it do any good. How dreadful it would 
 be for us to be unable to keep our thoughts to ourselves, and 
 to have a secret and silent witness even to what we thought 
 we could conceal from all eyes. Not to be alone with one's 
 self the idea would drive me mad." 
 
 " All you have to do is not to think of it, and the invisible 
 witness is no longer present," said Raynal, good-humoredly. 
 " Our neighbor Bacon, you know, says, ' Whoever is delighted 
 with solitude is either a wild beast or a god ; ' and inasmuch as 
 most men combine in their nature a little of either, an 
 unknown companion would not be so very bad for them in 
 lonely hours. Only we ought also to possess the power of 
 calling up this invisible friend ; in that event nothing would 
 be wanting to our happiness. But let me try now if the young 
 lady is able to divine my thoughts, too." 
 
 So saying, he stepped close up to Mesmer and whispered 
 something in his ear. 
 
 There was a pause of eager expectation. 
 
 Finally, the clairvoyant began in a slow, solemn tone : 
 
 " The Abbe Raynal is thinking of the humorous article 
 which he intends publishing to-morrow about Dr. Mesmer and 
 me in the Cour'er de Paris." 
 
 " By the Eternal, she has hit it!" exclaimed Raynal, in sur- 
 prise, " I did think of that. Now, Marmontel, try your luck 
 likewise. Let us hear from the lips of the clairvoyant what is 
 passing in the heart of our poet." 
 
 Mesmer spoke to the clairvoyant. In a few minutes she re- 
 plied: 
 
 " M. Marmontel is delighted with the beautiful verses which
 
 44 MADAME BE STAEI* 
 
 he improvised on the blindness of the god of love, and by 
 which he thinks he proved to the celebrated Corilla that he, 
 too, might travel as an improvisator." 
 
 All fixed their eyes on Marmontel, who averted his head in 
 great confusion, and vainly tried to smile as serenely as he had 
 done before. 
 
 " She hit it again," said Raynal, maliciously. "But suppose 
 we should now try to read in the heart of my little friend here, 
 too ? " he added, turning to Germaine Necker, and seizing her 
 hand. " It seems to me this will be the best way for me to as- 
 certain whether or not she really intends to become my little 
 wife." 
 
 The little girl laughed. " Just ask her ! " she said to him in 
 a low voice. " I should like to hear what she will say about 
 me." 
 
 Raynal complied with her wish. Her eyes now hung anxi- 
 ously upon the lips of the clairvoyant. 
 
 " Germaine Necker," she said, " longs intently to be admired 
 like the Princess Gonzaga. She thirsts for fame; she is envi- 
 ous of beauty ; hence, happiness will always llee her, and an 
 early grave will give her glowing heart that peace which she 
 will never find in life." 
 
 " Enough ! " cried Necker, advancing a step with a menacing 
 air. " This is growing too serious for a mere jest. Let us 
 hear no more of it ! " 
 
 So saying, he folded his child to his breast as if to protect her 
 from all the woe threatening her. 
 
 Thomas offered his arm to Madame Necker, who was afraid 
 she might faint away, and conducted her into the adjoini :ig 
 room. All the guests left the house. Mesmer alone remain \\ 
 with his clairvoyant, who awoke now quickly and walked 
 away with him.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 VOLTAIRE IN PARIS. 
 
 i 
 
 THE February sun shed its feeble rays on the earth, and illu- 
 minated wi:h its pale light the gloomy streets of the old city 
 of Paris. M. Necker had "worked in the Department of 
 Finance, and was now on his way home at an unusually early 
 hour; so his wife did not yet look for his return. She sat in 
 her boudoir, where no one was permitted to disturb her in the 
 morning, engaged in instructing her daughter, when the quick 
 footsteps of a gentleman fell on her ears. She looked in sur- 
 prise toward the door in order to see who it was that dared to 
 enter here so impetuously, when it was thrust open, and 
 Necker's short and heavy-set figure appeared in it. His wife 
 looked at him inquiringly, with a glance whose anxious expres- 
 sion seemed to spy for some disagreeable cause of his appear- 
 ance ; but his smile and the serene expression of his counte- 
 nance soon calmed her fears. He said to her, merrily : 
 
 "Voltaire has arrived! Despite his advanced age, he has 
 ventured to undertake the journey to Paris. The whole city 
 is in commotion in consequence of his unexpected arrival. He 
 has not been here for twenty-seven years past. The appear- 
 ance of a ghost, a prophet, an apostle, could not have excited 
 more astonishment * than his arrival did. He is welcomed 
 like a miracle, and eclipses everything else, the rumors of aOi 
 impending war, the court gossip, the quarrels of the clergy, 
 * " Correspondance de Grimm et Diderot, en 1778."
 
 46 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 and even the great struggle between the adherents of Gluck 
 and Piccini. The pride of the Encyclopedists bows to the 
 Patriarch of Ferney ; the Sorbonne trembles before him ; the 
 parliament does not venture to speak ; literature proudly raises 
 its head ; and all Paris is on its legs to pay homage to its idol, 
 who is admired and revered as no hero of the whole century 
 ever was." 
 
 " So he is really here 1 " exclaimed Madame Necker, in joy- 
 ous surprise. " There was a good deal of talk about his com- 
 ing for some time past. He was said to be anxious to return to 
 Paris, and longed for an invitation. Well, I am particularly 
 glad of it for our daughter's sake ; for this is no doubt his last 
 journey, and she will have an opportunity to get acquainted 
 with the illustrious man before he is taken from us and from 
 mankind." 
 
 " He performed the journey from Ferney to Paris, despite 
 the cold weather, in five days. That is a good deal for a man 
 of eighty-four. But although, to all appearance, he enjoys the 
 best of health, he insists all the time that he is very sick," said 
 M. Necker. " Whenever anybody congratulates him on his vig- 
 orous and healthy appearance, he flies into a towering passion." 
 
 " I shall take good care, then, not to compliment him on it," 
 replied Madame Necker. " I am glad that you cautioned me 
 in time. But tell me now also where he stays, and if you think 
 I had better call on him." 
 
 "He alighted at the house of the Marquis de Villette. I 
 
 have been told that the Marquis has given the poet a cabinet 
 
 resembling the boudoir of a goddess of love. You had better 
 
 *call on him this very day. It is early enough for it yet, and 
 
 /you know he is so restless and mobile that we must seize him 
 
 as soon as possible if we wish to prevent him from slipping 
 
 entirely from our hands."
 
 VOLTAIRE IN PARIS. 47 
 
 " It seems, Necker, you do not wish to accompany me to 
 him ? " 
 
 " I am unfortunately unable to do so," he replied, regretfully. 
 " I had already to interrupt some very important business in 
 order to inform you of Voltaire's arrival. Times are too grave. 
 The welfare of France and my honor are at stake. If I am 
 unable to prove to the world that I am exceedingly well-quali- 
 fied for the position which the King has intrusted to me, both 
 he and I will be severely censured, and both of us lose our 
 game. At so grave a moment I must leave the joys of social 
 life to you alone. But Voltaire may possibly consent to dine 
 with us. In that event, I should be exceedingly glad to meet 
 him again and converse with him." 
 
 " I shall invite him in your name," replied Madame Necker. 
 
 " I am sure he will receive you very kindly, inasmuch as it 
 was you who originated the idea of erecting a statue to him, 
 the expense to be collected by subscription." 
 
 " And what a letter he wrote to me in reply ! "Who ever 
 traced such a portrait of himself as Voltaire did on that occa- 
 sion ! " 
 
 " Never mind ; the idea nevertheless flattered his vanity, 
 and you may be sure that he will receive you the more kindly 
 for that matter," replied Necker, stepping toward the door. 
 " For the rest, his presence here is certain to give rise to many 
 amusing scenes ; for the clergy have determined to profit by his 
 arrival in order to save his soul. The priests are vicing with 
 one another in this respect ; all of them are desirous of immor- 
 talizing their names by converting the Patriarch of Ferney. 
 One of them was already foolish enough to steal this morning 
 into his room while Voltaire was still in bed ; and, kneeling 
 down before him, the priest shouted excitedly, " In the name 
 of God, listen to me ! I am your scapegoat ; I am destined to
 
 48 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 take upon me the guilt of your life; but now confess your sins 
 to me without delay, and beware of letting this opportunity 
 pass without profiting by it;" etc., etc. 
 
 " Our poet happened to be in very good humor ; so he asked 
 the priest, very calmly, who had sent him on this errand? 
 "Who but the living God," replied the priest. "Well, then, 
 reverend father," said Voltaire, quite seriously, " pray let me 
 see your credentials." This very simple and natural question 
 perplexed the poor man so much that Voltaire finally took pity 
 on his confusion and tried to soothe him by speaking very 
 kindly and gently to him. He dismissed the priest with the 
 assurance that he would confess to him if he should come to 
 him at a more convenient time. From such a beginning we 
 may infer the steps which the reverend gentlemen will take 
 in order to bring about the salvation of the Patriarch." 
 
 " Their impertinence evidently knows no bounds," exclaimed 
 Madame Necker. 
 
 " Well, he will know how to defend himself; no one gets 
 the better of him so very easily," said M. Necker, leaving the 
 room. 
 
 As soon as he had closed the door after him, Madame Necker 
 rang the bell, ordered her carriage, and told her lady's-maid to 
 dress her. 
 
 " Have you already reflected about the answer you are going 
 to give Voltaire in case he should vouchsafe a few kind words 
 to you ? " asked Madame Necker of her daughter, when she 
 had finished her toilet. 
 
 Germaine hesitated. She stood before the looking-glass and 
 tried to arrange the small round rose-colored bonnet which 
 was fastened to her tall hair-dress, and which caused the full, 
 florid face of the young girl to appear in the most unfavorable 
 light. When her mother now stepped to her and bent her
 
 VOLTAIRE IN PARIS. 49 
 
 delicate, white face down to her, the contrast was most strik- 
 ing, and the girl burst into tears, 
 
 <l What is the matter, my clear child ? " asked Madame 
 Keeker, fixing her clear eyes wouderingly on her daughter. 
 
 " I think I am so homely, mother," replied Gennaine. " You 
 told me I should be handsomer when I had grown taller. But 
 look now for yourself. My head already reaches up to your 
 chin ; I am no longer a little girl, and yet I am as fat and awk- 
 ward and common-looking as if I had been born in a peasant's 
 hut I wonder what is the cause of it !" 
 
 " You are tall for your age, Germaine; but still you look like 
 a child. Your face is that of a child. I had already hi my 
 thirteenth year such full, round cheeks as you have now." 
 
 " Why do I not resemble you, mother ? Why is my com- 
 plexion not as white and delicate as yours ? You are so beau- 
 tiful and fascinating, Voltaire will be surprised to see that your 
 daughter bears no resemblance whatever to you," 
 
 " He will take little notice of your appearance, my dear 
 child, if your mind shows him that you have already acquired 
 considerable knowledge for a girl of your age, and even know 
 how to appreciate his extraordinary talents. Voltaire himself 
 was never handsome ; on the contrary, he was exceedingly ill- 
 favored ; but his great mind caused everybody to forget that he 
 was not good-looking. So it depends on you to do likewise. 
 Follow me now, and do not yield to such foolish despondency." 
 
 Germaine breathed on her handkerchief, pressed it to her 
 eyes, and accompanied her mother to the carriage, 
 
 The house of the Marquis de Villette lay at no great dis- 
 tance from Necker's residence- it Avas on the corner of the 
 Rue Baune and the quay bearing Voltaire's name, and almost 
 directly opposite the Pavilion de Flore, on the left wing of the 
 Tuileries, which Louis the Sixteenth inhabited. 
 3
 
 50 MADAME RE STAEL. 
 
 Madame Necker ordered her footman to inquire if Voltaire 
 was at home and received visitors. Having received an 
 answer in the affirmative, she alighted, and caused the porter 
 to conduct her through the entre-sol to the first floor, where he 
 pointed out to her a narrow, dark corridor, at the end of which 
 was a small door leading to the room occupied by Voltaire. 
 
 She rapped at this door, and the poet himself made his ap- 
 pearance immediately, and asked her to come in. 
 
 " You must forgive me, Madame Necker, for receiving you 
 in this trou de rien" he said to her, politely ; "but the sons of 
 the Muses generally have not where to lay their heads ; happy, 
 therefore, he to whom even such a shelter as this is vouch- 
 safed." 
 
 Madame Necker was scarcely able to conceal her surprise 
 when she looked about " the boudoir of the goddess of love," 
 which, in fact, was but very scantily furnished. 
 
 " Where you are, your surroundings are not noticed," she 
 then replied, with her most winning smile. " The thought of 
 meeting you again made me so happy, that I undertook to pene- 
 trate to you without my husband, whom official duties unfor- 
 tunately prevented from accompanying me, and thus fulfilling 
 the fondest wish of his heart." 
 
 " Yes, yes, I know he is engaged in cleaning the Augean 
 stables of French finances, and with his good intentions is 
 paving himself a very pretty road to hell," replied Voltaire, 
 laughing. " I never was so wise or mad as to undertake to 
 sweep before the Ax>rs of other people, so I do not understand 
 anything about the pleasure derived from such a course. It 
 must be very pleasant, though, inasmuch as so very many per- 
 sons pursue it. M. Necker is content, I suppose." 
 
 " He hopes that his efforts will be successful ; and as long as 
 there is hope, he will courageously walk his thorny path "
 
 VOLTAIRE IN PARIS. 51 
 
 " And sow tares ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! " 
 
 " I trust not," said Madame Necker, smiling. " But, instead 
 of sneering at the cause which keeps my poor husband away 
 from you, you ought to pity him." 
 
 " God forbid that I should commit such a sin against tho 
 welfare of this kingdom ! " exclaimed Voltaire, pathetically. 
 " But pray sit down ! It makes no difference what parts we 
 play on this great stage of life, for, no matter what we may do, 
 the last act always remains a bloody one. However, a good 
 digestion helps us to surmount and accomplish a great deal, 
 provided we keep our eyes fixed on the aim we have marked 
 out for us, and constantly bear in mind that nothing is so 
 important for us as to amuse ourselves and enjoy good health.* 
 For, as I said before, ' Le dernier acte est toujours sanglnnC \ 
 I have always taken pains to live in consonance with these 
 views, and if I have, nevertheless, to submit to the execution 
 of my death-warrant, it is, at all events, no fault of mine." 
 
 " Your health is so good that we need not look for that 
 dreadful event for a long time yet," remarked Madame Necker, 
 forgetful of her determination not to speak to him about his 
 appearance. 
 
 " That is a mistake which you share with a good many 
 other persons, Madame," replied Voltaire, in a tone of irrita- 
 tion. " This trou de rien admits too little sunshine to reveal to 
 your eye the vestiges which time has left on my face, and my 
 poor body is wrapped up in so much clothing that I can 
 scarcely find it myself. Little, of course, can be said of my 
 appearance, as long as people have to take pains to discover 
 anything of me save my voice." 
 
 * "Voltaire, Correspondance," Vol. V.: " Tout est egal dans ce monde 
 mrvu qu'on se pnrU 
 t Ibid. Vol. m. 
 
 pourm- qu'on se porte Inen et qu'on S 1 amuse." 
 ' "bid. Vol. '
 
 52 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 " I hope you will remain for some time in our midst," said 
 Madame Necker, in order to turn the conversation to another 
 subject, and to soothe his irritation. 
 
 " A man who may daily look for his dissolution is not at 
 liberty to speak of coming days, Madame. I hope, however, 
 death will grant me time enough to obtain a passport for mj 
 soul, lest it should have to stand, bare and naked like a beggar, 
 at the gates of eternity." 
 
 " Your century will stand up for you," said Madame Necker, 
 politely. 
 
 " Yes, yes, we know that. Apres nous Ic deluge. When I am 
 no longer there to take care of Voltaire, the man, he will be 
 thrown on the first dung-hill, as food for the dogs. I must .try 
 to prevent that. So I will confess and obtain absolution. I 
 will become a free-mason, and, at the eleventh hour, take my 
 seat in the Academy. After these three points have been set- 
 tled, I do not believe that St. Peter can any longer shut the 
 gates of heaven against me." He burst into laughter. 
 
 " At all events, you make light of the matter," said Madame 
 Necker. May I hope that, notwithstanding these important 
 occupations, you will find time to dine with us ? My huslwaud 
 urgently invites you to do so." 
 
 " Your wishes are orders to me, Madame, especially when 
 they are in consonance with mine," said Voltaire, jumping up 
 restlessly ; for his nervous, excitable nature did not permit him 
 to remain long on the same spot. " I shall, moreover, be glad 
 to avail myself of this opportunity, in order to recommend my 
 remains to M. Necker. The priests would be capable of put- 
 ting me, like a scare-crow, into a corn-field." 
 
 "No, they shall not!" exclaimed Germaine Necker, jump- 
 ing up and pressing the hands of the poet to her lips, while 
 tears streamed from her eyes. " No, they shall not ! My
 
 VOLTAIKE IN PARIS. 53 
 
 father will never permit it ; and, if he did, I should bury you 
 with my own hands, and plant roses on your grave ! " 
 
 " I like young folks animated with such sentiments," cried 
 Voltaire, his small, sunken eyes glistening with pleasure. " It 
 did me good to hear that ! Madame Necker, the words which 
 your daughter uttered just now do honor to the education 
 which you have given to her. If your daughter continues in 
 the same path, she will one day receive a letter of acknowl- 
 edgment, such as M. Necker recently addressed in the King's 
 name to a brave, kind-hearted sailor.* The letter will state : 
 ' She has buried Voltaire, for which she receives our most gra- 
 cious thanks ; she has buried him with his big, long wig, his 
 lace cuffs, aud all his fine clothes, and deprived us of the sad 
 sight of a body which will not be of much account until 
 doomsday ; and it will be a long, long time yet before the 
 trumpet resounds.' Such will be the acknowledgments, 
 Mademoiselle, which will be bestowed upon you if you take 
 care of my remains, and help me to change into a chrysalis 
 like any other butterfly. But accept now already the acknowl- 
 edgments of your most obedient Voltaire, for the kind inten- 
 tions you have manifested toward him." 
 
 " My daughter shares my admiration for you," said Madame 
 Necker, coming to the assistance of her daughter, who seized 
 in silent confusion the hand which Voltaire held out to her. 
 " It cannot surprise you that she should be quite carried away 
 by the impression which the sight of such an eminent man as 
 you must make upon so young a mind." 
 
 * By order of the King, Necker wrote the following to a sailor: " Excel- 
 lent man ! The intendant informed me day before yesterday of the cour- 
 ageous deed which you performed on the 31st i>f August, and communi- 
 cated the intelligence yesterday to the King. His .Majesty instructs me to 
 express to you his satisfaction at your conduct, aud to order you one thou- 
 sand francs and a pension of three hundred francs. Continue assisting 
 others whenever you can, and pray for our good King, who loves and 
 rewards kind-hearted men. (Signed) NECKEK, Minister of Finance."
 
 54 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 " You make me proud, Madame, proud and withal sad ; for 
 what prospects open before me when I gaze into the radiant 
 black eyes of your daughter, and am immediately to abandon 
 the hopes to which they give rise ! Oh, whimsical fortune ! 
 Why did you cause this young heart to throb for me only to 
 sacrifice itself, like an Indian widow, on my grave ! Why did 
 you cause me to find this young half at a moment when my 
 old half is to cease sighing and cooing ? What a son-in-law I 
 should have been to you, Madame ! Forgive me if nature no 
 longer enables me to aspire to the happiness of wedded life." 
 
 " I certainly regret it both in my own interest and in that of 
 France," replied Madame Necker, still in the same tone, which 
 she did not allow to be disturbed by any of Voltaire's singular 
 sallies ; " but how loth we shall be to lose a name which our 
 lips have so long uttered with the most intense admiration, 
 and which our ears never can nor will hear without experienc- 
 ing the proudest joy at belonging to the same country as its 
 eminent bearer." 
 
 So saying, she rose and prepared to leave. 
 
 " As soon as my ' Irene ' has been performed, I shall call on 
 you," said Voltaire, rubbing his hands gleefully. " I have to 
 superintend the rehearsals that the actors may learn to play 
 tbeir parts in a satisfactory manner." 
 
 " We are looking forward to the first performance with the 
 liveliest interest," replied Madame Necker. 
 
 " That is just what I am afraid of. People forget that I have 
 grown old, and still demand of me very remarkable works. 
 That is exceedingly unjust." 
 
 " Your genius, as we have known for a long time past, never 
 grows old ; at all events, you have never yet proved the con- 
 trary to us," said Madame Necker, smiling. 
 
 " I am going to do so as sure as my name is Voltaire ; just
 
 VOLTAIRE IN PARIS. 55 
 
 wait for the first performance of my tragedy," replied Voltaire, 
 laughing, and offering her his arm in, order to conduct her 
 through the dark corridor. " Although beautiful eyes illumin- 
 ate the darkest night," he remarked to her, in the corridor, 
 " your blue stars could not light up this Orcus even in the day- 
 time. One must be accustomed to darkness in order to be able 
 to see here." 
 
 He bowed deeply and retired, while the outer door closed be- 
 hind the ladies, who entered their carriage again, and drove 
 toward the Bois de Boulogne.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE FIItST LAUREL- WREATH. 
 
 CARNIVAL had never l>een merrier in Paris than in 1778. 
 There was an endless round of gay festivities, and motley 
 crowds of masks filled the streets. The court participated in 
 the amusements as far as etiquette permitted ; and even the 
 princes of the royal iamily, as well as the young queen her- 
 self, permitted themselves many a liberty, and perpetrated many 
 a jest, which they could not have done under ordinary circum- 
 stances. 
 
 Madame Necker kept entirely aloof from this whirl of plea- 
 sure. Much as her husband's new position had elevated her in 
 social life, she took no pains whatever to turn it to account in 
 this respect. She contented herself wilh the knowledge that 
 the name which she bore was mentioned everywhere with 
 respect and gratitude, and she shared the joy with which this 
 filled her heart, with those friends of her house who were espe- 
 cially devoted to her husband, and among whom Grimm was 
 his most ardent admirer. He never tired of eulogizing Necker, 
 and expressed incessantly his joy at seeing him labor so enthu- 
 siastically and indefatigably for the welfare of France. 
 
 A friend whose heartfelt sympathies follow us in the path 
 of glory without a tinge of envy rising in his soul, what a rare 
 boon ! It was vouchsafed to Necker, who derived comfort and 
 strength from it in the stormiest days of his eventful career. 
 
 While her husband, owing to his official duties, could devote
 
 THE FIRST LAUREL-WREATH. 57 
 
 but little attention to his family, Madame Necker devoted as 
 much time as she could spare to the education of her daughter ; 
 and she took especial pains to impart to her that practical view 
 of human life which she hoped would soften the impetuosity 
 of her feelings, and keep her in the narrow path of prudence 
 and propriety. For this purpose she had renounced all plea- 
 sures of social life, and devoted herself with all her heart to the 
 establishment of a hospital at St. Sulpice, where Germaine, as 
 soon as it would be completed, should see all kinds of suffering, 
 and even look death in the face. She hoped much, nay every- 
 thing, from these practical lessons which her child was to re- 
 ceive, and she left nothing undone in order to render them as 
 impressive as possible. 
 
 Germaiue, therefore, remained alone much oftener than for- 
 merly, and her lively mind caused her to engage in various 
 occupations in order to while away her time. Dolls had never 
 been the companions of her early years, She had groAvn up 
 with books, and the only mechanical knowledge she had ac- 
 quired had been to wield the pen. So she now stuck to her 
 old friend. She read and wrote, and often recited aloud what 
 she had penned. Her days passed in this manner. Madame 
 Necker did not interfere with her. She considered these occu- 
 pations exceedingly useful ; she thought them conducive to her 
 mental development, and hoped they would lead her to serious 
 reflections. An education whose ultimate object was not self- 
 education seemed to her entirely fruitless. 
 
 One clay the Abbe Raynal surprised the young girl standing 
 before the looking-glass in the salon, and reciting something iu 
 a loud voice. She had commenced writing a drama, and was 
 now rehearsing the role of the heroine. 
 
 " All alone ! " he said to her. " I thought there were two 
 persons in this room. What are you doing here ?" 
 3*
 
 58 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 Germaine became greatly confused, and concealed her manu- 
 script in her hand. 
 
 " I hope you do not want to conceal anything from your 
 old friend ? " he said kindly. " Just let me see what you were 
 reciting. If it is your own work, so much the better. In that 
 event my advice might be useful to you." 
 
 The last words seemed to overcome the timidity of the 
 young girl. So she gathered all her courage and handed the 
 paper to the Abbe. 
 
 u Ah ! " he exclaimed, as soon as he had glanced at it, " A 
 regular manuscript ! A complete drama ! Say, my young 
 friend, suppose you let me take it home and peruse it carefully. 
 Perhaps we might prepare a very pleasant little surprise with 
 it to your mother on her birthday." 
 
 " Ah, I wish we could do that," exclaimed Germaine, crim- 
 soning with joy. "It would make me so happy if she should 
 praise me ! " 
 
 " But are you doing anything for which she censures you ? " 
 asked the Abbe. 
 
 " Yes, she does, although I always take pains to show her 
 how dearly I love her. For this reason I am so sorry that I 
 did not marry Mr. Gibbon." 
 
 " What ! The fat Englishman? " asked Raynal, in surprise. 
 
 " Yes, the fat Englishman ! It does not matter how he looks, 
 provided my parents like him ; and both of them were so fond 
 of him, and missed him so much when he returned to his na- 
 tive country. Had I quickly made up my mind to many him, 
 he would have remained with them for ever. But this did not 
 occur to me until he was gone," she added, in a low voice. 
 
 The Abbe burst into a fit, of laughter. 
 
 " No, no, my young friend, that need not weigh down you; 
 conscience," he said, kindly patting her cheek. " Your parents
 
 THE PIKST LAUREL- WEEATH. 59 
 
 do not ask such a sacrifice of you, and, besides, you Lave to 
 grow a little older in order to be able to make it. But tell me 
 now if your mother will soon be here, or if I must lay on your 
 little shoulders all I have to communicate to her." 
 
 " She has gone to St. Sulpice, and will not be back until 
 dinner." 
 
 " Well, then, listen to me. ' Irene' will be performed to-mor- 
 row night ; but there will be such a throng that your mother 
 must be at the theater half an hour earlier than usual if she 
 wants to witness the ceremonies in honor of the poet, which 
 are to precede the performance. I have just seen Voltaire, 
 and am, therefore, well-informed of everything. Marmontel 
 detained me a long time on my way to your house ; otherwise 
 i should have been here an hour ago. He had in his pocket a 
 letter from Voltaire, which he insisted on reading to me. The 
 sarcastic old gentleman writes him in it that but for his ' Belis- 
 aire' the whole literature of our century would present a 
 pitiful appearance ; and Marmontel believes every word of 
 it, and feels highly flattered by it. You know the work ; 
 he presented you a copy of it, beautifully bound ; and I am 
 sure, if he had not written it, you might have done it just as 
 well." 
 
 " I do not find it as easy to write a book as I thought it was 
 before I tried to do so," replied Germaine, very gravely. 
 
 " A very true and sensible remark, my young friend," said 
 Raynal, approvingly. " You are daily growing more and more 
 sagacious, and make me quite proud of you." 
 
 Germaine cast a grateful glance at him. 
 
 " I am so glad to hear you praise me," she said, " and feel 
 then doubly anxious to deserve your good opinion." 
 
 <; I shall always do so when you look so kindly at me," said 
 Haynal, affectionately. " We old men like to be kindly treated
 
 60 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 by young folks. We have need of them, while they can do 
 without us." 
 
 " I do not think we can," replied Germaine. " We haye to 
 learn a great deal from you." 
 
 " It is true, that would be the right course ; bot very few 
 
 young folks deem it prudent to pursue it. They scout the 
 
 good advice of old men as entirely superfluous, and so we 
 
 finally learn to keep silence. Such is the course of the world, 
 
 my child." 
 
 " At all events, my dear Abbe, you shall find that I do not 
 pursue it," warmly exclaimed Germaine, taking his hands be- 
 tween both of hers. " You must tell me all that I should know ; 
 for you are my best friend." 
 
 "And you are likewise my best little friend," replied the 
 old gentleman. Taking her head between his hands, he im- 
 printed a kiss on her forehead, and, nodding to her a parting 
 greeting in the door, hastened from the room. 
 
 As soon as the door had closed after him, Germaine fetched 
 pen and ink, and wrote down what he had requested her to tell 
 her mother. The excitable state of her mind, which was easily 
 carried away by all sorts of impressions, caused her to forget 
 quickly what had fallen on her ear without producing a deeper 
 effect upon her ; for this reason her mother had taught her to 
 jot down all such little items. As soon as she had done so, she 
 took up a book and read until her mother's return. 
 
 M. Necker had determined to give himself a holiday, and ac- 
 company his wife and daughter to the theater in order to wit- 
 ness the sixth performance of" Irene." The tragedy had been 
 played five times, and the poet had been unable to be present 
 at any of these representations. The rehearsals had greatly 
 exhausted him ; he had been taken sick in consequence, and 
 he had recovered only a clay or two since. All Paris was now
 
 THE FIRST LAUREL-WREATH. 61 
 
 desirous of celebrating his recovery. It had been arranged that 
 he was to attend the first sitting of the Academy, and thence 
 repair to the theater. Madame Necker had been informed by 
 her friends of the hour when he would start, and had secured 
 for herself and Germaine a window close to the Louvre, where 
 they could see the illustrious poet pass by. M. Necker intend- 
 ed to go to the Academy, and afterwards join his wife and 
 daughter, and accompany them to the theater. Both of them 
 anxiously looked forward to the moment when Voltaire's car- 
 riage would slowly drive through the crowded streets. All 
 stores were closed to-day, all laborers had ceased working, and 
 not a Parisian gamin had remained at home. 
 
 The large, open carriage had been at the door for some 
 time already, when Voltaire, leaning on the arm of the Mar- 
 quis de Villctte, made his appearance. Immediately, all caps 
 were thrown into the air, and deafening acclamations burst 
 forth. 
 
 The poet looked greatly exhausted ; but he had not neglected 
 dressing in consonance with the celebration of the day. 
 He wore his very large and long wig, which he used to comb 
 every morning himself, and which had covered his head for 
 forty years past ; his crimson-velvet coat was trimmed and 
 lined with the magnificent ermine which the Empress of Rus- 
 sia had presented to him several years ago ; and his lace cutfs 
 were perhaps still longer than usual, and made of the most 
 exquisite point d'Alencon. 
 
 The carriage moved slowly down the narrow street toward 
 the Louvre. Here all gates, and every accessible point were 
 densely crowded with enthusiastic spectators, whose cheers 
 grew perfectly deafening as soon as they caught sight of him. 
 The members of the Academy came to meet him in the ante- 
 rot; ni an honor which they had hitherto not paid to any of
 
 62 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 their colleagues. He was conducted to the President's chair, 
 and unanimously requested to take it. 
 
 Voltaire gratefully received all these marks of homage, and 
 listened attentively to a eulogy which d'Alembert delivered on 
 Boileau. 
 
 When the sitting was over, many Mends of his greeted him, 
 and among them Necker also stepped up to him and cordially 
 held out his hand to him. 
 
 " You have put me to your triumphal car to-day," he said, 
 smilingly. " You appear everywhere as a triumpher, as the 
 Cajsar of our century." 
 
 " I cannot complain, since you, my Cato, have risen for me," 
 replied Voltaire, quickly; for other friends already thronged 
 around him. 
 
 When he left the old Louvre, his passage to the Tuileries 
 really resembled a triumphal procession. A vast concourse of 
 people filled the large court of the Princes ; no less crowded 
 with spectators was the high terrace of the garden, where a 
 galaxy of the most beautiful ladies had assembled, and waved 
 their handkerchiefs to their favorite poet. When his carriage 
 drew near, the enthusiasm of the crowd knew no bounds ; all 
 wished to see him and pay him homage, and many persons 
 even tried to cling to the wheels of the carriage, in order to 
 catch a glimpse of the illustrious man. 
 
 As soon as Voltaire had taken his seat at the theater, between 
 Madame de Villette and Madame Denis, his niece, M. Brizan ap- 
 peared with a laurel-wreath, which Madame de Villette placed 
 on the poet's head. Voltaire, however, immediately took oft' 
 the wreath, and the deafening shouts and cheers of the audience 
 could not prevail on him to adorn himself with it again. 
 
 All the ladies had risen at his entrance, and Madame Neck<;r 
 and her daughter had not. failed to follow their example.
 
 THE FIRST LAUREL-WREATH. 63 
 
 " How happy Voltaire must be to-day," whispered Gerrnaine 
 to her mother. " I should like to be crowned likewise ! But 
 I am afraid it is impossible." 
 
 The theater, meanwhile, became more and more crowded ; 
 even the corridors were filled to their utmost capacity ; all 
 wished to see the poet, and the spectators in the pit were 
 almost suffocated by the heavy pressure from without. The 
 royal box was occupied by the court, Marie Antoinette and her 
 ladies honoring by their presence the Sophocles of the 
 eighteenth century. The blue, silver-embroidered dress of the 
 Queen, the ostrich plumes and diamonds on her tall toupet, 
 added to the charming appearance of her majesty ; and well 
 did she deserve the general admiration that was bestowed on 
 her, as she bent with a sweet smile over the railing of her box 
 in order to greet the poet. 
 
 Such was the excitement reigning in the vast audience, that 
 more than twenty minutes elapsed before the actors were able 
 to obtain a hearing. At length, however, the audience became 
 more quiet, and listened to the play. 
 
 "Irene" was never performed with greater perfection than 
 to-night, and the most rapturous applause rewarded the actors. 
 
 At the close of the performance, there were fresh bursts of 
 applause, and the poet was called before the curtain. Voltaire 
 stepped forward and bowed his thanks to the audience. At 
 the same moment, there rose in the middle of the stage, as if 
 by a magician's wand, a pedestal, surmounted by the poet's 
 bust, and all the actors surrounded it in order to wreath and 
 crown it. Voltaire's name burst from all lips, and every kind 
 of praise, every expression of admiration which the human 
 heart is able to conceive. Here, at least, envy had to be silent. 
 
 Madame Vestris now came forward and addressed the follow- 
 ing lines to the illustrious man:
 
 64 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 Aux yeux de Paris enchante, 
 
 Re9oie en ce jour nn hommage 
 
 Que conflrmera d'Sge en age 
 
 La severe poaterite. 
 
 Non, tu n'as pas besoin d'atteindre an noir rivage 
 Pour jouir de Thonneur de 1'immortalitc. 
 
 Voltaire, recois la couronne 
 
 Que Ton vient de te presenter ; 
 
 II est beau de la meriter 
 
 Qnand c'est la France qui la donne. 
 
 These lines were in keeping with the feelings of the audience; 
 they were vociferously encored, and she was obliged to repeat 
 them again and again, until the audience knew them by heart. 
 
 Voltaire's appearance indicated that he was greatly exhaust- 
 ed. At his age it is very difficult to bear up under such in- 
 tense excitement, and his pale face betrayed the pains he took 
 in order to keep erect. His glistening eyes, however, and the 
 almost melancholy expression of his lips, showed that he was 
 by no means insensible to the enthusiastic homage paid to him. 
 
 Upon stepping out into the passage, he found all the ladies 
 ranged into two lines, and Voltaire had to walk between them 
 to his carriage. At the door he was again detained. The 
 crowd shouted, " Torches ! Torches ! We all want to see 
 him ! " He was scarcely able to reach his carriage. His im- 
 petuous admirers then jumped on the steps in order to kiss his 
 hand. The coachman was requested to drive slowly, that the 
 people might be able to escort it ; and amidst shouts of " Vive 
 Voltaire!" and, "He has written Oedipe, Merope, and Zaire" 
 the crowd accompanied him, as far as the Pont Royal. 
 
 Voltaire, who, as we said before, was greatly exhausted, 
 leaned back in a corner of the carriage and had closed his eyes. 
 Overpowered by the impressions of the eventful day, he was 
 no longer able to withstand them. "It is too much!" he 
 said in a low voice, and held his hand before his eyes. 
 
 When he reached the house of the Marquis de VilleUe, he
 
 THE FIRST LAUREL-WREATH. 05 
 
 found that another carriage had already arrived there before 
 him. It now gave place to his, and as soon as he alighted, two 
 ladies appeared before him. 
 
 " Permit my daughter to present her laurel-wreath, too, 
 to you, Voltaire," said M. Necker to the poet, while Germaiue 
 -bent her knee, and presented the wreath to him. " She has 
 witnessed to-day scenes which she will never forget ; for such 
 moments remain isolated ; they never recur." 
 
 " They never recur," gently said Voltaire, drawing the young 
 girl to him, and imprinting a paternal kiss on her forehead. 
 " They never recur ! " he added, faintly ; " so give no more 
 wreaths to me. Let her keep this wreath who presented it to me." 
 
 So saying, he placed the laurel-wreath on the head of the 
 young girl, who uttered a low cry when she saw herself crown- 
 ed in this manner. Trembling with happiness, she intended 
 to seize Voltaire's hand ; but the poet had turned even paler 
 than before, and was about to sink to the ground. M. Necker 
 quickly hastened to him, supported him with his strong arms, 
 and, assisted by the footman, carried Voltaire into the house 
 and to his room. 
 
 Madame Necker had meanwhile entered the carriage with 
 her daughter, and quietly awaited the return of her husband. 
 Germaine still wore the laurel-wreath on her head, and her 
 eyes beamed strangely. 
 
 " You may consider this event a presage," began her mother, 
 " that fate intends to open to your mind a more extensive and 
 conspicuous sphere than is usually granted to our sex. A 
 great many opportunities are presented to you to cultivate your 
 mind ; all you have to do is to imitate the example which these 
 illustrious persons set you, and if you are courageous and 
 energetic enough to aspire to the highest goal, you will be cer- 
 tain to reach it.
 
 66 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 Germaine looked at her mother inquiringly, and heaved a 
 deep sigh. " Yes, if I were a boy ! " she said, despondingly. 
 
 " Why, my child ? " asked Madame Necker, in surprise. 
 
 " It would then be so easy for me to enter the path of fame ; 
 for all I should have to do would be to walk in the footsteps of 
 illustrious men. But a girl is unable to do so. I am at 
 a loss to know what goal I am to mark out for me. Tell me, - 
 mamma, the name of the lady whom you would like me best 
 to resemble ? " 
 
 Madame Necker was unable to answer this question imme- 
 diately. 
 
 " I do not want you to resemble any of those whom you 
 have met I want you to ascend to an eminence which no 
 woman has reached before you. At all events, I want you to 
 make the attempt." 
 
 " But it is so very difficult to aspire to a degree of perfection 
 which one has never seen." 
 
 " You may imagine it." 
 
 " Yes, like that of Gorilla and Voltaire ; but I shall never be 
 like them." She sighed. " Do you not think, mamma, I might 
 imitate Madame de Genlis ? She writes so very beautifully ! " 
 
 " That is not enough ; one must, besides, be entitled to per- 
 sonal respect and admiration. The woman must never be 
 separated from the poetess, my child." 
 
 " But is that so in her case ? " 
 
 " You shall make her acquaintance, and then judge for your- 
 self ; but until then do not question me any more about her." 
 
 At this moment M. Necker stepped from the house. This 
 put an end to the conversation between mother and daughter. 
 They quickly drove home, and Germaine Necker hastened to 
 her room and hung the laurel-wreath over her bed, whore 
 sweet dreams soon hovered around her.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A VISIT TO ROUSSEAU. 
 
 GERMAINE NBCKER passed a very restless and dreamy night. 
 At daybreak she awoke, and hastened to seat herself at her 
 small writing-table, in order to work at the manuscript which 
 the Abbe had sent back to her, with a note, in which he ad- 
 vised her to subject it to a revision. 
 
 The cracking of whips and sound of jingling bells inter- 
 rupted her in this occupation. She rose and hastened to the 
 window. Snow covered all the roofs, and the streets too were 
 shrouded in it. Despite the lateness of the season, the young 
 Queen Marie Antoinette was once more able to enjoy the fa- 
 vorite amusement of her native country, and to astonish the 
 inhabitants of Paris by a brilliant sleigh-ride. The magnifi- 
 cent cavalcade was just drawing near, and Germaine Necker 
 opened the window lest any part of the gorgeous spectacle 
 should escape her. 
 
 The cavalcade was headed by a sleigh shaped like a large 
 bee-hive, and supported by two winged genii ; the beautiful 
 queen was seated in it. The bracing air flushed her cheeks ; 
 she glanced around merrily, and smiled whenever she saw a 
 gay face among the lookers-on in the streets. 
 
 Her proudly erect head was covered with a bonnet surmount- 
 ed by three large ostrich plumes ; and a blue-velvet cloak 
 lined and trimmed with ermine was wrapped round her shoul- 
 ders. The sleigh was also lined with blue velvet, and on the
 
 68 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 outside covered with draperies of the same material, beautifully 
 embroidered with gold. 
 
 Two splendid white horses drew this fairy -like equipage ; 
 their bits were made of solid gold, and their harness was deco- 
 rated with blue velvet and golden bells. 
 
 Germainc Necker had never seen anything like it ; as if spell- 
 bound, she fixed her eyes on the beautiful Queen ; and uttering 
 a cry of delight, she dropped the window and clapped her hands. 
 
 But already the next sleigh attracted her attention. It was 
 that of the Queen's brother-in-law, the Count d'Artois. 
 
 Rose-red and silver were the colors which he had chosen, 
 and his sleigh looked like a huge shell, while he himself wore 
 a black-velvet coat, richly trimmed with fur, and a Garret-cap 
 of the same material. The slender young man presented a 
 most prepossessing appearance in his tasteful costume, and 
 many a beautiful lady glanced furtively after him. 
 
 Now followed the courtiers of the Queen and Prince ; but, 
 although they likewise displayed much splendor, their sleighs 
 were eclipsed by those which had preceded them, and so they 
 attracted less attention than those of Marie Antoinette and the 
 Count d'Artois. 
 
 Germaine Necker now closed her window, and hastened to 
 the fire-place in order to warm her fingers. She was greatly 
 surprised to ^see that her mother, who had been standing 
 behind her for some time already, was in the room. 
 
 " Such a sleigh-ride is a very pleasant amusement, is It not?" 
 said Madame Necker, gazing into her daughter's eyes. " Still 
 I deplore the short-sightedness of the Queen, who indulges in 
 this expensive pleasure at a time when the lower classes suffer 
 so much from want and cold." 
 
 " I am sure the Queen is not aware of it," replied Germaine. 
 " She looks so good and kind-hearted."
 
 A VISIT TO ROUSSEAU. 6!) 
 
 " She is good and kind-hearted, my daughter ; but it is very 
 wrong of her to arrange expensive sleigh-rides at a time when 
 so many people are crying for bread. Can they be blamed for 
 being exasperated on witnessing such displays of extravagance 
 on the part of the court ? We should never present our own 
 affluence in such a manner to the eyes of those who are on the 
 brink of starvation. Your excellent father is now a member 
 of the royal cabinet, and straining every nerve in order to bal- 
 ance the expenditures and revenues of the State. In the mean- 
 time, he has intrusted me with the management of his own 
 fortune, and honored me in the most flattering manner by the 
 confidence which he reposes in me. I attach the more impor- 
 tance to it as I had no dower to bring to your father. My 
 knowledge, my education, were the only property I possessed 
 when I came to Paris. Here your father offered me his hand, 
 and I deemed myself only too happy to share the lot of so no- 
 ble and excellent a man. It is no more than right and just that 
 I should now take the utmost pains to prove to him that I am 
 not entirely unworthy of the love and happiness which he has 
 bestowed on me. I have repeatedly told you all this already, 
 my daughter," said Madame Necker ; " still I believe I cannot 
 reiterate it too often, in order to impress you duly with the 
 value of a good education, the only treasure which I had to 
 offer to my husband." 
 
 " But you were beautiful, too, mother," said Germainc. 
 
 Madame Necker blushed at this remark. 
 
 " That is a mere matter of taste," she replied ; " even though 
 your father, at first perhaps, paid some attention to my ap- 
 pearance, he has long since ceased attaching any importance to 
 it. Believe me, my child, love, as well as friendship, in order 
 to be lasting, needs intellectual harmony, and rests firmly only 
 on a basis of mutual respect."
 
 70 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 " But respect, mother, is so cold, and admiration so warm ! " 
 
 Madame Necker knit her brow slightly, and contracted her 
 shapely mouth. After a brief pause of reflection, she replied : 
 
 " You must not compare the delicate and refined conduct of 
 my friends with the noisy acclamation with which Voltaire is 
 greeted everywhere. The multitude, moreover, as history 
 proves, is exceedingly fickle. Genuine merit never hankers 
 after its applause ; it is far above such vanities. See, my 
 daughter, there is at this moment in our city a man whose 
 merits far surpass those of a Voltaire, and yet he sits alone in 
 his garret, thinking and writing for immortality." 
 
 " You allude to Kousseau, mother ! " exclaimed Germaine, 
 warmly. 
 
 " I do, indeed, my child. And this will show you what a 
 heart this great man possesses. Read this letter which he has 
 written. It is addressed to his aged nurse. Thomas brought 
 it to me ; you may keep it, and learn from it how beautiful it 
 is to be grateful for benefits that have been conferred on us." 
 
 Germaine seized the letter hastily, opened it and read as 
 follows : 
 
 " MONTMORENCT, July 2, 1761. 
 
 " Your letter, dear Jacobine, has reached me, and gladdened 
 my heart at a moment when I was unable to answer it. 
 
 " I avail myself now of an undisturbed moment to thank 
 you for your remembrance and for your love, which always 
 will be dear to me. For my part, I have never ceased remem- 
 bering and loving you. 
 
 " In times of suffering I have often said to myself that, if my 
 dear Jacobine had not nursed me so carefully in my childhood, 
 I should have suffered less in later years. 
 
 " Believe me, I shall never cease taking the most affectionate 
 interest in your health and happiness, and that it will always
 
 A VISIT TO ROUSSEAU. 71 
 
 gladden my heart to hear from yourself that you are well and 
 in good spirits. 
 
 " God bless you, my dear, good Jacobine ! 
 
 " I do not write anything about my own health, in order not 
 to grieve you ; may the good God preserve yours, and grant 
 you all the blessings for which you long. 
 
 " Your faithful Jean Jacques, who embraces you with all his 
 heart. " ROUSSEAU." 
 
 " How kind ! How cordial ! " exclaimed Germaine, pro- 
 foundly moved, when she had read the letter. 
 
 " These simple words are so very beautiful because of the 
 noble feelings which they express. And now go and dress, my 
 child, in order to accompany me to Rousseau." 
 
 " To Rousseau ! " exclaimed Germaine, as if she hardly 
 trusted her ears. " You are jesting, mother ! " 
 
 " I am in dead earnest. I wish to give you an opportunity 
 to satisfy yourself that genuine merit does not always need 
 the pomp and noise of popular applause. For some time past 
 I have already tried to find a pretext for paying him a visit ; 
 for he is greatly averse to amusing inquisitive idlers. In order 
 to be admitted by him, we will appear in the simple costume 
 of my native country; I am sure we may permit ourselves 
 this little stratagem. I shall send my maid to you immediately, 
 in order to assist you in dressing. Go now and put your papers 
 into your bureau." 
 
 So saying she left the room. Germaine still remained for 
 some minutes in the same attitude, looking, as if absently, after 
 her mother. It was not until then that it occurred to her that 
 she had to make haste. She carefully folded up Rousseau's 
 letter, and pressed it reverentially to her lips before putting it 
 into a small case which contained other precious relics of the
 
 72 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 same description ; she then gathered up the leaves of her 
 manuscript and put it likewise into the bureau. 
 
 Madame Necker had not ordered her own carriage, in order 
 not to endanger her incognito. There were hackney-coaches at 
 the corner of the street ; she beckoned to one of them, and en- 
 tered it with her daughter. She ordered the coachman to drive 
 her to the Rue Platriere, without designating the number of the 
 house. Upon reaching that street, she told him to halt, and 
 tried to find the house where the celebrated man lived. 
 
 A nairow back-door led them into a dark hall, where they 
 were scarcely able to discover the staircase. They ascended it 
 slowly. 
 
 " I hope we shall find him at home," whispered Germaine to 
 her mother ; I should be so sorry if he were absent." 
 
 " Do not get excited," replied her mother. " Above all things, 
 do not let him see that you know who he is." 
 
 When they reached the fifth floor, Madame Necker stood 
 still. Here lived the author of "NouvelleHeloise." She looked 
 about for the door that might lead to the poet's room. Al- 
 ready she stretched out her hand toward a bell before her, when 
 she suddenly heard somebody sing. 
 
 She listened. 
 
 It was a male voice, neither sonorous nor agreeable, and some- 
 what tremulous ; but the intonation was perfectly correct. It 
 seemed to be a very melancholy air, which he sang repeatedly ; 
 finally all was silent. 
 
 Madame Necker now rapped at the door, but so softly that 
 the sound scarcely fell on her own ears. 
 
 She waited a while for an answer from within. But as none 
 was given, she courageously rang the bell. 
 
 Footsteps resounded within; he approached ; and the door 
 opened.
 
 A VISIT TO ROUSSEAU. 73 
 
 Uermaine, trembling with suspense, seized her mother's 
 arm. 
 
 A man appeared now in the half-open door ; when he per- 
 ceived the two ladies, he politely took off his cap and bowed 
 to them. 
 
 " Is this the room of a certain M. Rousseau, who copies 
 music ? " inquired Madame Necker, in an indifferent tone, 
 
 " Yes, Madame," replied the man. " I am Rousseau. What 
 do you want of me ? " 
 
 " I have been told that you are an excellent copyist, sir, and 
 yet charge only reasonable prices; I would request you, 
 therefore, to copy some pieces for me," 
 
 " Pray come in," replied Rousseau, politely. 
 
 Madame Necker and Germaine now followed him through 
 a dark and narrow ante-chamber into his sitting-room. Here 
 he invited Madame Necker to seat herself in an arm-chair, and 
 placed another for Gerniaine beside it 
 
 " My costume, M. Rousseau, shows you that I am not a per- 
 manent resident of Paris ; it would, therefore, be very agree- 
 able to me if you could serve me immediately," 
 
 "I have little to do at the present time, Madame; it will, 
 therefore, afford me pleasure to work for you immediately. 
 What is it that you wish me to copy ? " 
 
 Madame Necker now handed him a roll of music, which she 
 Lad hitherto held in her hand. 
 
 Rousseau took it, and requested her to keep her seat, and to 
 permit him to put on his cap again, while he would glance 
 over the music. He then sat down at the table close to them 
 and unfolded the roll. 
 
 Madame Necker profited by this moment to look about the 
 room. 
 
 Three old arm-chairs, several other rickety chairs, and a 
 4
 
 74 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 \vriting-table, formed all the furniture which it contained. On 
 the table lay several books, some sheet-music and dried plants. 
 Over the fire-place hung an old silver watch. A cat was sleep- 
 ing close to the fire. A dozen views of Switzerland and sev- 
 eral coarse copperplates adorned the walls. Among the cop- 
 perplates she noticed a portrait of Frederick the Great, and, 
 on looking closer at it, she found that Rousseau had written 
 on the margin the words, " He thinks like a philosopher, and 
 acts like a king." * 
 
 Germaine had constantly followed her mother's glance, and 
 both of them now fixed their eyes on the poet's figure. His 
 form was by no means imposing. He was of medium height, 
 and had a broad, arched chest. His features might be called 
 regular, but they did not, by any means, indicate that he was 
 a man of genius. His eyes, which he now fixed on the music, 
 and now on his fair visitors, were small, round, and restless. 
 His shaggy eyebrows imparted to them a harsh and gloomy 
 expression, which was softened again by his exceedingly 
 shapely and attractive mouth. His smile was so melancholy, 
 and withal so sweet, that it lit up his features with a wondrous 
 charm, and irresistibly attracted his visitors toward him. 
 
 His dress consisted of a cotton cap, which did not look very 
 neat, and was adorned with a ribbon which formerly had been as 
 red as fire. He wore a flannel waistcoat under his furred coat, 
 dark-brown pantaloons, gray stockings, and old, worn-out shoes. 
 
 Rousseau had meanwhile looked over the music. He had 
 found among the pieces an air from " Le Devin du village," 
 which hud aroused his distrust, and he now turned with a 
 searching glance to Madame Necker. 
 
 " Do you know the composer of this air, Madame ? " he 
 asked, sharply. 
 
 * " II pense en philosophe et sc conduit en roi.
 
 A VISIT TO KOUSSEATJ. 7J 
 
 "I do," she replied, calmly. " His name is too well known 
 that I should not have heard it ; but I have never seen him. 
 He has composed very pretty songs, and written excellent 
 books. Are you acquainted with him, or is he, perhaps, even 
 a relative of yours ? " 
 
 Rousseau was about to make a reply, but he suddenly inter- 
 rupted himself. He was probably afraid of uttering half a 
 falsehood by evading the truth, and so he preferred keeping 
 silence. Instead of answering Madame Necker's question, he 
 smiled significantly. 
 
 " We mothers are greatly indebted to M. Rousseau," added 
 Madame Necker. " He has procured us the right of nursing 
 our babes at our own breasts, and thereby secured us the per- 
 formance of one of our noblest duties. This is a gain which 
 we shall never be able to extol enough." 
 
 Rousseau cast on Madame Necker a glance reflecting his 
 whole soul. At the same time, a heavenly smile lit up his fea- 
 tures. She perceived that she had hit the spot where he was 
 most perceptible of flattery. 
 
 In the meantime, a woman about forty years old had en- 
 tered the room. She bowed with studied politeness to the 
 ladies, and, without uttering a word, seated herself on the 
 other side of the table at which Rousseau had just sat. 
 
 It was Theresa, Rousseau's factotum, who played at the same 
 time the role of mistress and servant. 
 
 Madame Necker felt no sympathy for her, and she had to 
 take pains to conceal the unpleasant impression which The- 
 resa's appearance made upon her. 
 
 To resume the conversation, she asked now how much Rous- 
 seau would charge her for copying the music. 
 
 " Six sous a page, Madame," replied Rousseau. " That is the 
 usual price."
 
 76 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 " Shall I pay yon something in advance ? " she asked, politely. 
 " You have to purchase music-paper." 
 
 " Thank God, Madame, I am able to do so," replied Rousseau, 
 smiling at her kindness. " I am in better circumstances than 
 you seem to think ; for I receive a small pension, and " 
 
 "And you might have a much larger income," interposed 
 Theresa, " if you collected what the opera owes you." So say- 
 ing, she shrugged her shoulders peevishly. 
 
 Rousseau made no reply. He seemed not to be courageous 
 enough to enter into a quarrel with his housekeeper. Since her 
 entrance, his bearing and expression had undergone a marked 
 change, and a certain depression seemed to have seized him. 
 He restlessly moved to and fro on his chair ; finally he rose, 
 and begged permission to leave the room for a few moments. 
 
 No sooner had he withdrawn than Theresa said : 
 
 " Madame, pray excuse M. Rousseau ; I am sorry to say that 
 he is sick." 
 
 Madame Necker replied, there was no need to add any 
 excuses to those of M. Rousseau. 
 
 " Have you need of me, M. Rousseau ? " she now shouted 
 in a loud voice, no doubt to display her solicitude for him in 
 the presence of the strangers. 
 
 " No, no ! " he replied, re-entering the sitting-room. 
 
 " Madame," he said, turning to his visitors, " pray intrust 
 your music to other hands ; for I regret to say that I feel too 
 unwell to work for you as rapidly and promptly as you desire, 
 inasmuch as your sojourn in Paris, perhaps, will not be of long 
 duration." 
 
 Madame Necker replied that her departure was not yet near 
 at hand, and although she would like to have the music at an 
 early day, she would submit to a brief delay rather than intrust 
 it to other hands which might prove to be less skillful.
 
 A VISIT TO ROUSSEAU. 77 
 
 With these words she rose in order to leave the room. Rous- 
 seau politely accompanied her to the door, where she took 
 leave of Theresa by coldly nodding to her. 
 
 She went down stairs with her daughter hi silence, and beck- 
 oned to the coachman to come up. No sooner had the coach 
 door closed behind them, than Germaine buried her face in her 
 hands and burst into low sobs. 
 
 " Poor, poor man ! " she lamented. " He is going to copy the 
 music at six sous a page ! That breaks my heart ! Father 
 must give me money for him, and I will take it to him. I will 
 give him all I have, my dresses, my jewels all, all ! I do 
 not want to sit any longer on soft chairs when Rousseau has 
 in his room only such hard and uncomfortable ones. Oh, this 
 is too dreadful ! The King ought not to suffer it ! " 
 
 Her mother allowed her to continue in this manner for some 
 time ; she then interrupted her. 
 
 " Now compose yourself, Gerniainc," she said, calmly. " I 
 foresaw that the circumstances of Jean Jacques Rousseau would 
 make a deep impression on you, and I am glad that you did 
 not give the reins to your emotions in his presence. But your 
 lamentations are wasted. How can we assist him who rejects 
 all offers of assistance ? It is his greatness to reject all that is 
 offered to him, and accept nothing but the fruits of his labors. 
 If he would accept any assistance, many a great King would 
 deem it a glorious privilege to become the benefactor of Rous- 
 seau. But the author of ' Eniile ' and the ' Contrat Social ' will 
 not hear of it ; nor can he do so without incurring distrust and 
 suspicion." 
 
 " And so he suffers all kinds of privations," exclaimed 
 Germaine, mournfully. " How melancholy and unhappy he 
 looked ! Ah, never, never, shall I forget this visit to Rousseau !"
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE PIKST POEM. 
 
 THE sun shed its most scorching rays upon earth. The in- 
 habitants of Paris fled from the oppressive heat; the streets 
 were deserted, and the fine old shade-trees in the garden of 
 the Tuileries scarcely afforded them sufficient protection from 
 the torrid sunshine. Even the most industrious artisans ceased 
 working to-day. 
 
 The court was at Versailles ; the young Queen whiled away 
 her time at her little dairy-farm, while Louis the Sixteenth was 
 occupied in his favorite pastime, the trade of a locksmith. On 
 a day when nobody was at work, Necker, too, could permit 
 himself a brief relaxation, and he did so the more willingly as 
 Nature was still decked in a thousand charms. 
 
 During the present year he had not had many opportunities 
 of visiting his small villa at St. Ouen, where formerly he had 
 passed every Sunday in the midst of his friends. He now 
 merrily invited some of his intimate acquaintances to share 
 with him for a few clays the pleasures of rural life, and they 
 willingly accepted his invitation. He himself, accompanied 
 by Grimm and Raynal, preceded them to St. Ouen in order to 
 surprise his wife and daughter by his unexpected arrival. 
 
 Madame Necker was not very fond of rural solitude. She 
 regarded as wasted every minute that did not add to her knowl- 
 edge. Hence nothing but a sense of duty had induced her to 
 precede her husband to the villa, in order to superintend the
 
 THE FIRST POEM. 73 
 
 pieparations for a little family festival, with which he was to 
 be surprised to-morrow. 
 
 She was standing at the window, and gazing up to the sky 
 adorned with all the gorgeous tints of a magnificent sunset. 
 She was surprised that her husband should tarry so long, and, 
 pressing her high white forehead against the window-pane, she 
 listened if the sound of coach-wheels was not yet audible in 
 the distance. 
 
 Thomas, who had accompanied her to St. Ouen, in order to 
 assist her in the preparations for the festival, entered the room 
 at this moment Pale and grave as usual, he approached with 
 a slow, measured step, and placed himself by her side. 
 
 At this moment, the merry, clear voice of Germaine, who 
 was in the garden, fell on their ears, and soon after they saw 
 her running after a young girl of the same age, who seemed to 
 be intent on concealing herself from Germaine. 
 
 " She is so old already, and yet she likes to play like a little 
 child," said Madame Necker, disapprovingly. 
 
 " Her heart is still very young, although her mind has ar- 
 rived at an almost precocious maturity. I am glad that you 
 have followed my advice and given young M'lle Huber as 
 a companion to her. I never saw Germaine so happy as on 
 the day when you presented the young girl to her." 
 
 " It is unfortunately but too true, my friend ! " said Madame 
 Neeker, sighing. 
 
 " Unfortunately ? How so ? " asked Thomas, wonderingly. 
 
 " Let me confess," replied Madame Neeker, with half a smile, 
 " that I was jealous of my own child on that day. I have edu- 
 cated her for myself. I have devoted myself entirely to her edu- 
 cation, and must see now that she turns from me, and prefers 
 the little stranger's company to mine." 
 
 " You are jealous?" asked Thomas, in surprise, as if he had
 
 80 MADAME DE 8TAEL. 
 
 not heard anything but this word. " If you can yield to jeal- 
 ousy on this occasion, what would you feel in my place ? " 
 
 Madame Necker blushed, and averted her face. 
 
 " Shall we go down to the garden ? " she asked. 
 
 ' ' You are dressed too airily ; you have changed your toilcltc 
 for the arrival of your husband," said Thomas, looking at her 
 dress, which sat charmingly on her. The transparent dress of 
 white gauze veiled her beautiful neck and full white arms but 
 very imperfectly, and her tall slender form seemed even more 
 delicate in the airy costume which she wore. He gazed at her 
 admiringly. " A genuine queen of the Anglo-Saxons," lie ex- 
 claimed. " How beautiful you are to-day." 
 
 Instead of making a reply, Madame Necker turned, rang the 
 bell, and ordered the servant to bring in lights. At the same 
 moment Germaine rushed into the room. But as soon as she 
 caught sight of her mother, she slackened her step, and as- 
 sumed a stiff attitude. 
 
 " A cloud of dust is drawing near it mtist be he ! " she ex- 
 claimed, with beaming eyes. 
 
 " Who ? You should always mention the names of the per- 
 sons to whom you refer," said her mother. 
 
 " I spoke of my father. Whom else could I have referred to? 
 For three long, long days I have not seen him, and, if he 
 brings guests with him, as I expect he will, how little time he 
 will be able to devote to me even to-night!" she exclaimed in 
 a mournful tone, and burst into tears. 
 
 " Germaine ! " cried Madame Necker, disapprovingly. " Yo;i 
 shed tears again ! Must you weep, then, on all joyful occa- 
 sions? My poor, poor child! What will remain to you for 
 grief in case it should knock at your door?" * 
 
 * M'llo Iliiber said of Germaine Necker, " Ce qui I'amusait etait ce qui U 
 lau-ait pluurcr."
 
 THE FIKST POEM. 81 
 
 " Nothing can grieve me more," continued the young girl, 
 " than to be so indifferent to my noble father that he hardly 
 misses me when I am far from him 1 " 
 
 " But is not such the case with me, too ? Did I not leave 
 him in order to pass these days with you at St. Ouen ? and 
 will he now be able to devote all his tune to me ? You are a 
 foolish child, Germaine." 
 
 " Ah, I am very, very unhappy ! I should like to be every- 
 thing to him, and I am but his child. But you are the wife of 
 his heart ; he chose you ! " 
 
 " Hush, hush, I do not want to hear any more of these fool- 
 ish complaints," said Madame Necker, coldly and sternly. 
 " Go to your room and calm yourself, so as to be able to re- 
 ceive our guests becomingly. What would your friend Raynal 
 say if he should see you now ? " 
 
 The girl, sighing, left the room. 
 
 " It is very singular," remarked Thomas, when the door had 
 closed after her, " that Germaine should be so passionate and 
 impetuous in her affections. And then this jealousy of her 
 own mother ! " 
 
 " I do not know myself how so unnatural a feeling can have 
 arisen in her heart," replied Madame Necker, covering her 
 eyes with her beautiful white hand in order to conceal her 
 grief from Thomas' view. " I am often at a loss how to coun- 
 teract this jealousy. She always draws comparisons between 
 herself and me, and they generally result in adding to her de- 
 pression. Hence I am taking pains to impress her with a sense 
 of the superiority of her education. I constantly urge her to 
 strive for fame and discard vanity ; but just when I hope to 
 have led her into the right path, there happens such an out- 
 burst, and overthrows my whole structure." 
 
 " May be to-morrow's festival will produce a salutary effect 
 4*
 
 82 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 
 
 upon her ; for praise will not be wanting to her," said Thomas, 
 consolingly. 
 
 " That is what I thought, too ; the trouble is only that her 
 own father does not think very highly of literary women, and 
 believes that only such of them as possess very marked talents 
 should lay their productions before the public. It remains 
 to be seen whether or not he will consider his daughter suffi- 
 ciently gifted." 
 
 "Why should he not?" asked Thomas, smiling. "Do you 
 not know that paternal love likes to adorn its darlings with 
 very beautiful plumes ? " 
 
 " But its eyes are not bandaged like those of the little god 
 of love," replied Madame Necker, jocularly. " And as I see 
 that my daughter has magnificent eyes, but an ugly snub-nose 
 and thick negro lips, so her father may think that, with a great 
 deal of mind and an extraordinary imagination, she is wanting 
 in plastic diction, and prevented by her restless and passionate 
 temper from making up by earnest application for what nature 
 has refused to her. If such should be his opinion, he will not 
 encourage, but restrain her, and thus destroy my last hope." , 
 
 " Yes, if such should be his opinion," said Thomas. " But 
 let us wait and see. In that event I can only say to him with 
 Pope, ' True ease in writing comes from art, not chance,' and 
 ask him to wait until she acquires the skill in which he thinks 
 her to be deficient," 
 
 " Do so. Meanwhile your courage will sustain me. Let us 
 wait and see." 
 
 " Provided it does not last too long," exclaimed Raynal, who 
 entered the room at this moment and overheard the last words. 
 " It is very pleasant to wait for one of your epicurean suppers, 
 which always indemnify us for curbing our impatience, so 
 richly that my old mouth waters at the mere thought of them.
 
 THE FIIIST POEM. 83 
 
 But as a general thing I am not very fond of this theory of 
 waiting. It proved most effective in Roman history, when 
 Fabius Cunctator avoided a pitched battle and hemmed in his 
 enemies. But no\v-a-days; ahem! Franklin did not wait; 
 he swam like a duck across the immense ocean, and accom- 
 plished his purpose. Had he remained at home, he would not 
 have obtained anything from us." 
 
 " He was not indebted for his success to his eloquence," said 
 Thomas, sneeringly. 
 
 " God knows he was not. It seemed almost as though the 
 American Embassador was mute, so little had he to say. How- 
 ever, he is doing now a great deal better. Since France has 
 declared for the Colonies, his tongue has been loosened. I met 
 him the other day at a dinner-party, and was amiable enough 
 to address him as follows : ' I must confess to you, sir, that 
 America presents a truly grand spectacle.' ' Yes,' replied the 
 taciturn doctor from Philadelphia ; ' but the spectators refuse 
 to pay for it' Let me ask you if that was not a very sharp 
 answer ? " 
 
 All laughed. 
 
 " Did you hear that he is courting the widow of Helvetius ? " 
 asked Madame Necker. 
 
 " I did, indeed," replied Raynal. " And he is in dead earn- 
 est about it ; he is head and ears in love with her, and wants 
 to marry her." 
 
 " Oh, I suppose that is a mere supposition," said Madame 
 Necker. 
 
 " But a well-grounded one. "We men are sometimes likewise 
 keen-sighted in this respect Believe me, if it depended on him, 
 he would take this charming widow to America. But she 
 loves her independence, and is afraid of the sea." 
 
 "Whom are you speaking of? Of Madame Helvetius?"
 
 84 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 asked Grimm, entering the room. " In that event, I can tell you 
 something that will ainuse you. Franklin has proposed to 
 her, and been rejected. He goes home in high dudgeon, and 
 writes the following letter. Hear I hear 1 " So saying, he took 
 a paper from his pocket and read : 
 
 " I returned last night to my house greatly dejected at your 
 determination not to marry again, in honor of your late la- 
 mented husband. In my despondency, I threw myself on my 
 bed, and dreamed that I was dead, and walking in the Elysian 
 Fields. I was asked there whom I wished to see. ' Conduct 
 me to the philosophers,' I replied. ' There are two of them 
 close by ; they are on very friendly terms.' ' Who are they "i ' 
 ' Socrates and Helvetius.' ' I feel the highest respect for both 
 of them, but I should prefer to see Helvetius first, because I 
 am somewhat familiar with French, while I do not know a 
 word of Greek.' He received me very politely, and assured 
 me that he had long since known me by name. He then in- 
 quired very anxiously about the state of religion, liberty, and 
 government in France. ' You do not ask me at all about your 
 dear friend, Madame Helvetius? And yet she loves you so 
 dearly ! It is only an hour since she told me so.' ' Ah, you 
 remind me of the days of past happiness ; but those who wish 
 to be happy here, must not call them to mind. At first my 
 thoughts always were with her. I then took another wife, who 
 bears a passable resemblance to her ; it is true, she is not as 
 beautiful as my widow, but she possesses a great deal of mind 
 and common sense, and loves me so dearly that she does not 
 long for anything else than to please me. She has just left me 
 to fetch some nectar and ambrosia for my supper. Stay here, 
 sir, in order to get acquainted with her.' ' I see that the fi- 
 delity of your first wife far surpasses yours, inasmuch as she 
 rejects all proposals. I myself loved her madly ; but
 
 THE FIRST POEM. 85 
 
 could prevail on her to desist from her purpose, arid marry me.' 
 ' I am sorry for you,' he said, ' for she is a very good and ami- 
 able woman. But do the Abbes, Laroche and M , not some- 
 times call on her yet ? ' ' They do, indeed, for she has re- 
 tained all her old friends.' ' You should' have tried to gain 
 
 M over to your side by means of some cafe d la creme; 
 
 perhaps you would then have been more successful, for he is as 
 able a speaker as St. Thomas was, and knows so well how to 
 argue a point that no one is able to refute him ; you might 
 have also caused the other Abbe, Laroche, to oppose your suit, 
 by presenting him with a fine edition of the Classics ; perhaps 
 this would have been still better, for I always noticed that she 
 liked to do the reverse of what he advised to her.' At this 
 moment the new Madame Helvetius, in whom I recognized 
 immediately my old American friend, Mrs. Franklin, made 
 her appearance. I requested her to follow me, but she re- 
 plied coldly, ' I have been a good wife to you for forty- 
 nine years and four months, and thought that that would 
 satisfy you. Now I have formed this new acquaintance, 
 which is to last eternally.' Vexed at this refusal of my 
 Eurydice, I immediately resolved not to stay any longer with 
 these ungrateful shades, and to return to this world of sun- 
 shine and to you. Here I am now. Let us avenge our wrongs 
 together." 
 
 "A capital letter!" exclaimed Eaynal. " But confess, it is 
 merely a jest of yours or a mystification." 
 
 " Neither the one nor the other. Still waters are deep. You 
 see now how cleverly Franklin revenges himself on the lady 
 who rejected his suit, but lends a willing ear to the tender sighs 
 of others." 
 
 Necker had meanwhile entered the room, and cast a signi- 
 ficant glance on Grimm.
 
 BQ MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 u The letter will afford a great deal of pleasure to your sov- 
 ereign, the Empress of Russia," tie said. 
 
 " That is the reason why I copied it," replied Grimm, 
 gravely. 
 
 " What does my young friend think of it?" asked Raynal, 
 turning to Germaine, who clung to her father's arm. " I have 
 to speak with her privately as soon as we have tasted M. 
 Necker's nectar, which I shall relish after the dust on the road 
 and the heat of the day, no less than poor Helvetius did that 
 which his Hebe presented to him." 
 
 " At bottom, that letter is somewhat impious, and, above all, 
 decidedly immoral," said Madame Necker, emphatically. 
 
 " If we keep in mind the object for which it was written, I 
 think you are mistaken," said M. Necker, merrily. " We can- 
 not do without jests. For the rest, opinions differ greatly as 
 to what is moral. For my part, I say, La morale est la nature 
 des c?ioses." 
 
 Germaine raised her radiant eyes to her father's face, and 
 pressed his arm to her side, in order to show that she under- 
 stood him, and approved what he said. Madame Necker no- 
 ticed it. A slight cloud passed over her features, and, inter- 
 rupting the conversation, she rose and requested the guests to 
 follow her. 
 
 Additional guests arrived next morning, and the little villa 
 was soon filled to its utmost capacity. 
 
 Germaine Necker was invisible. She sat with M'lle Huber 
 in a shady bosquet of the garden, studying her role; for she 
 intended to play herself the heroine in her drama to-day. A 
 small stage had been erected in a pavilion ; and Raynal, who 
 Avas likewise to appear in the drama, accompanied her now 
 thither, in order to rehearse the whole once more. 
 
 In the afternoon the quests were informed of the entertain-
 
 THE FIRST POEM. 87 
 
 ment which was in store for them, and all hastened to the 
 pavilion. Germaine was behind the scenes when the specta- 
 tors entered, and she looked anxiously through a hole in the 
 curtain hi order to see the air with which her father looked 
 forward to the performance. 
 
 It had been resolved not to inform M. Necker that Germaine 
 had written the play ; this could be concealed from him the 
 more easily, as he did not question anybody on this point. 
 His daughter was to appear in the play, and he thought that 
 was the surprise prepared for him. 
 
 A large bill at the door informed the guests that "Les Incon- 
 venients de la Vie de Paris " was the title of the play. 
 
 The curtain rose, and on the stage appeared a mother, who 
 h.id two daughters. One of them had grown up in rural retire- 
 ment, while the other had enjoyed all the advantages of a city 
 education. 
 
 The mother prefers the latter; she praises her cultivated 
 mind, her graceful bearing, her social talents, and neglects and 
 slights the former on all occasions. 
 
 Adversity now knocks at her door. In consequence of a 
 lawsuit she loses her whole fortune ; she is obliged to reduce 
 her expenses very, largely, and even suffers painful privations. 
 The elegant city girl is unable to adapt herself to these circum- 
 stances ; she complains loudly of the fickleness of fate, and 
 vents her spite upon her mother. 
 
 The simple country girl , on the other hand, redoubles her 
 tenderness, and becomes the stay and comfort of her whole 
 family. 
 
 The scenes of this little drama were very skillfully connected ; 
 the characters were exceedingly well developed ; and the inter- 
 est was kept up from beginning to end. Loud applause re- 
 warded the actors, and Marmontel was even so deeply moved
 
 88 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 that he drew his handkerchief from his pocket in order to dry 
 his tears.* 
 
 Germaine was applauded most enthusiastically, and, at the 
 close of the performance, called before the curtain. When she 
 made her appearance, flowers and wreaths were showered upon 
 her, and a thousand encomiums bestowed on her. Her heart, 
 however, longed only for her father's applause, and she awaited, 
 tremblingly, the first word which he would utter. 
 
 M. Necker now beckoned to her to come to him, and folded 
 her to his heart. " She has performed her role exceedingly 
 well," he said to Grimm. 
 
 " More than that," interposed Raynal ; " she has not only 
 played, but also written exceedingly well. Neither of us, my 
 dear Necker, would have been able at her age to write such a 
 drama." 
 
 " It is your own composition, then ? " asked her father, in 
 surprise. 
 
 She made no reply. He fixed his keen eyes searchingly on 
 her face. 
 
 " Yes, it is true," he said, coldly, disengaging himself from her 
 arms ; "my only child is an authoress." 
 
 At these words Germaine fainted away. 
 
 * " Correspondance Litt6raire." Vol. iv., p. 290.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 DR. TRONCHIN. 
 
 SEVERAL months had elapsed since " Les Inconvenieuts de la 
 Vie de Paris " had been performed at St. Ouen. A severe illness 
 had confined Germaine Necker to her bed, and when she rose 
 to-day for the first time, she had grown taller, and her com- 
 plexion had almost turned pale. A smile of satisfaction over- 
 spread her features when she looked at her face in the mirror, 
 and discovered that she was no longer as red as formerly. 
 She thought she looked now a great deal more like her mother 
 than before. 
 
 She leaned back in the cliaise longue, and gazed into the flick- 
 ering flames in her fire-place. 
 
 At this moment her father entered the room. She uttered a 
 feeble, " Ah ! " when she saw him, and, quickly raising herself 
 up, she intended to hasten toward him ; but he signed to her to 
 keep her seat. 
 
 "Do not stir, my child!" he said, emphatically, taking a 
 chair in order to seat himself by her side. " You are much 
 better, and will not be long in recovering entirely ; but you 
 must still be very cautious. Beware of overtaxing your 
 strength. At your age you have still a long future before you, 
 and will soon make up for what you have missed." 
 
 " Mother thinks I must not be too indolent." 
 
 " Not tod indolent, but a little of it can do no harm. You 
 are, moreover, my only child, my omy joy, my whole happi-
 
 90 MADAME DK STAEL. 
 
 ness. Why should you exert your strength if you feel no in- 
 clination to do so ; and such must be the case now when you 
 are still so very feeble." 
 
 '' I am not desirous of distinguishing myself, since I know 
 that you disapprove it," she said, her quivering lips betraying 
 her profound emotion. 
 
 " We should not speak bf it now," said her father, in a 
 grave, but gentle tone, seizing her right hand. " But I shall 
 soothe you, perhaps, more effectually by coming to an under- 
 standing with you on this point, than by allowing you to 
 brood over it. It grieved you to hear me disapprove the road to 
 fame which you have entered already at so early an age. Ah, 
 my child, the path which you desire to pursue is a very thorny 
 one, for it exposes you defenselessly to the shafts of obloquy 
 and slander. Publicity is to a man a stimulus rousing dor- 
 mant powers; but on a woman it inflicts wounds which often- 
 times never heal again. A man may bid defiance to the 
 world ; a woman must listen to her soft admonitions, and pro- 
 ceed very cautiously. Now, as there is nothing to me dearer 
 on earth than the happiness and tranquility of my child, it 
 wrung my heart to find her so unexpectedly in a path where I 
 should have preferred not to see her at all. But since you 
 have entered it, it does not matter. If you feel inclined to com- 
 mit your thoughts and feelings to paper, and have them exam- 
 ined and criticized by others, do so. I shall not hinder and 
 disturb you ; for all I care for, is to make you happy. Only re- 
 main truthful and good, my dear daughter, and you will always 
 please me." * 
 
 " My dear, dear father ! " whispered Germaine, deeply moved, 
 pressing his hand to her lips. " How shall I render myself 
 worthy of your love ? " 
 
 * " Madame Necker de Saussure." P. 22.
 
 DR. TKONCHIN-. 91 
 
 " By being happy, my child. Let me read in your eyes that 
 the life which I have given to you is a boon to you ; let me feel 
 that you repose the most implicit confidence in me, and that 
 you feel convinced that your joy is my joy, that your grief 
 finds an echo in my breast, and that I am your first and best 
 friend. Will you do so, Germaine, and can you do so ? " 
 
 " How should I not," she exclaimed, rapturously, "my own, 
 my dearest father ! " 
 
 Her father averted his face in order to conceal from her the 
 tears which filled his eyes, and left the room. 
 
 Germaine remained in profound emotion. She pressed her 
 hand firmly to her impetuously throbbing breast, and looked 
 about as if intoxicated with rapture. So happy, so blissful, she 
 had never felt before ; so sweet and enchanting had life never 
 seemed to her. 
 
 Finally, she folded her hands on her breast, and mattered a 
 prayer, in which she thanked God for the happiness which he 
 had vouchsafed to her. Her father loved her, he loved her bet- 
 ter than anything else on earth ; oh, it was almost too much 
 happiness ! 
 
 Exhausted as she was, her eyes closed, and she fell into a 
 gentle slumber. A blissful smile played round her lips, and 
 dreams hovered around her, such as she had never dreamed 
 before. Her lips moved, she called in her sleep for her father, 
 and when she awoke, she prayed, " Forgive me, my God, if I 
 should love him better than Thee ! " 
 
 Dr. Tronchin found her pulse next morning somewhat ir- 
 regular, and whole condition slightly worse ; but she assured 
 him she never felt better. But he refused to believe it, and said 
 that only the utmost mental tranquility would lead to her re- 
 covery, while any strong excitement might even endanger her 
 life.
 
 92 MADAME DE STAKL. 
 
 Madame Necker knit her brow as she heard this. ' ' My 
 daughter cannot lead the life of a prisoner at her father's house," 
 she said; "nor can her mind rest here entirely. She would, 
 moreover, be unable to bear the tedium of such an idleness." 
 
 " And yet she must bear it," replied Dr. Tronchin, sternly ; 
 " for it is the only medicine which I can prescribe to her, and 
 we do not care if the patient relishes the medicine, if only it is 
 efficacious. Mademoiselle Necker must live in the country, and 
 pass the whole day in the open air, if possible in the midst of 
 cows and sheep. Pen and ink she will leave at home, and 
 books too. Man is created to live with nature, and not with 
 paper." 
 
 " I see you have read Rousseau's ' Emile,' " said Madame 
 Necker, somewhat sarcastically. 
 
 " As may be expected of every cultivated man," replied Dr. 
 Tronchin, calmly. "But I did more than that: I allowed the 
 work to convince me." 
 
 " Many things look well in theory, but turn out to be worth- 
 less in practice," replied Madame Necker, bitterly ; perhaps for 
 the first time she was unable to master the irritation which the 
 doctor's words had caused her. " Our sex dislikes man in his 
 original state ; it is not until he has cultivated his mind that we 
 appreciate him as a companion. Hence, the higher the aims 
 which a woman strives to reach, the more it is necessary for a 
 man to elevate his moral and intellectual ideal. I had conceiv- 
 ed grand, far-reaching plans in regard to my daughter ; your 
 fiat has thwarted all of them, and restored my child to medi- 
 ocrity. If she must pease adding to her knowledge, she must 
 likewise renounce all prospects of fame and distinction. All 
 the time and pains which I bestowed upon her education have 
 been wasted." 
 
 " But, Madame, said Dr. Tronchin, smiling, " you may be sure
 
 DR. TRONCHIN. 93 
 
 that your daughter will turn to account the talents with which 
 nature has endowed her, and that my cure will not impair 
 them. Her mind will grow healthier and stronger with her 
 body." 
 
 " That is rank materialism," exclaimed Madame Necker, in 
 dismay. " Such principles will certainly ruin France. If you 
 make man a mere living machine, without rendering the mind, 
 which is to ripen for eternity, independent of the body, he will 
 become the sport of his passions ; for what would govern him ? 
 I shudder at the thought of the abyss on the brink of which 
 we are standing. First comes Gall with his phrenology, as if 
 the soul were something palpable ; he is preceded by Mesnier, 
 who idolizes the nervous system ; and the kind-hearted Lavater 
 finally discerns our whole character from the features of our 
 face. It is always the body and nothing but the body in which 
 our Savants try to find the key to the soul, instead of listening 
 to the Bible, which says, that the flesh is the seat of all sins. 
 How far we are still from the light of truth if we continue in 
 this path." 
 
 " It remains to be seen if it is the wrong one," replied Tron- 
 chin, smiling. " Enthusiasm for an ideal world is more suitable 
 to the minds of beautiful ladies than positive intercourse with 
 reality. Psychology, and not physiology, is their science ; for 
 they would hardly be able to make a thorough diagnosis. 
 Love is then* theme, and ours necessity." 
 
 " All physicians do not occupy your stand-point." 
 
 " I know it," replied Dr. Tionchin, smiling. " Since Moliere 
 betrayed so many of our secrets, we have had to resort to va- 
 rious methods ; the faith of the public in our old system was 
 shaken more and more, and so we had to try to prop it here 
 and there. Thank God, such props are not wanting to us, 
 and their number is daily on the increase. Men want to be de-
 
 94 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 ceived ; they want to be cured by a method which they do not 
 understand, and use remedies of whose properties they are en- 
 tirely ignorant. One of these methods is magnetism, of which 
 delicate ladies are so fond because it is such a very nice titil- 
 lation of the senses." 
 
 " You forget that you are speaking to a lady," said Madame 
 Necker, gravely. 
 
 "But to a lady who stands far above her sex. ' La femme a 
 Thomas ' * cannot be an ordinary woman. You have no time to 
 brood over little ailments ; the management of a large fortune, 
 the education of your daughter, the establishment of a hos- 
 pital, the exigencies of social life all these occupy you so much 
 that you never afford me the pleasure of treating you unless 
 exhaustion overpowers you, and compels me to exclaim, ' stop !' 
 So you cannot take umbrage at my censuring your sex for not 
 thinking and acting like you." 
 
 This handsome compliment did not fail to make an agreeable 
 impression on Madame Necker, who replied hi a kinder tone : 
 
 "If women in general are not what they should be, it is 
 owing to their education, doctor. For what I am, I am solely 
 indebted to my father's solicitude." 
 
 " You insist on being a production of art, and on making a 
 Pygmalion of every schoolmaster," said Dr. Tronchin, smiling, 
 and taking his hat. 
 
 Mother and daughter sat a while in silence opposite to one 
 another, when they were alone. 
 
 " You seem to be vexed," began Germaine, finally. " I hope 
 it is not in consequence of anything that I have done ? " 
 , Madame Necker did not reply immediately. She seemed to 
 be at a loss for an answer. Finally, she said, coldly : 
 
 * When Thomas had written his "History of Woman,'" Madame Necker 
 was greeted at the Italian Opera with the words "Voila la fenune u 
 Thomas I"
 
 DR. TRONCHIN: 95 
 
 " I have noticed that you hesitate in your conversation with 
 your father, whenever I enter the room. Have you something 
 to communicate to him that you wish to conceal from me ? " 
 
 " Oh ! no," replied Germaine, blushing. 
 
 " Why, then, are you silent in my presence, or rather, why do 
 you break off a conversation which seems to afford you pleas- 
 ure, and begin to speak of other things as soon as I join you ? " 
 
 " Because " replied Germaine, hesitatingly, " Because you 
 are more rigorous than father, and do not relish the thousand 
 little witticisms by which I try to amuse him. I am always so 
 glad to see him laugh ; for after the severe labors which his 
 official duties impose upon him, it is a real blessing to him. 
 At all events, he tells me so. I do not like to jest in your 
 presence, because you have always been averse to it, and often 
 called it an intellectual vagabond life. Now, inasmuch as I do 
 in the presence of my dear father things which are not in con- 
 sonance with your wishes, but please him, I am silent as soon 
 as you join us, in order not to grieve you." 
 
 " So your father likes your jests and witticisms," said Mad- 
 ame Necker, slowly ; and for the first time her pure and noble 
 heart was filled with a feeling of bitterness, which was the 
 more painful as it concerned her own husband, her own daugh- 
 ter two beings to whom she was devoted with all her heart. 
 
 She left Germaine, locked herself in her room, and wept. 
 Since she had given her hand to Necker, these were her first 
 tears. She was fearful she might henceforth no longer occupy 
 the first place in her husband's heart ; and how was she to 
 retain this place when she saw that her daughter, by means 
 entirely different from those which she had employed, succeeded 
 in amusing and pleasing him ? To meet her on the same 
 ground, and dispute the victory with her there, was entirely 
 out of the question.
 
 9G MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 She had hoped that her husband would love her In her 
 daughter,* and she had, therefore, taken so many pains to give 
 her an excellent education, in order to see herself rejuvenated 
 in her. And now this bitter disappointment ! 
 
 " She must leave Paris," she said, after reflecting along time. 
 " Let her go to St. Ouen, as Dr. Tronchin advises ; but I shall 
 stay here with m^r husband and try to regain his affections. 
 He is mine, and shall remain mine. Germaine has yet all her 
 life before her, and all paths are open to her ; but I have noth- 
 ing to expect and nothing to lose in this world, save his love. 
 It is my most precious treasure, and I shall risk everything in 
 order to keep it." 
 
 * " Madame Necker de Saussure." P. 23.
 
 THE VILLA AT ST, OUEN. 
 
 THE vernal sun shed its bright rays on the earth and greeted 
 the sprouting corn. 
 
 Germaine Necker was walking, with a quick step, through 
 the alleys of the garden, holding in her hand a book bound in 
 blue cloth. The noonday rays fell vertically upon her bare 
 head without her feeling their intense heat She seemed so 
 thoroughly absorbed in what she was reading, that she was 
 perfectly inaccessible to all outward influences. Her beautiful 
 hands and arms, which her mother had always covered so 
 carefully that her daughter might retain this charm, were ex- 
 posed to the scorching rays of the sun. She seemed to have 
 forgotten herself entirely. 
 
 Her sojourn in the country had greatly strengthened her 
 health. She was unusually tall for a girl who had just reached 
 her sixteenth year, and her strong aud well-developed limbs 
 caused her to look at a distance much older than she really was. 
 Her firm step, her deep voice, the steady glance of her eyes, 
 which girlish bashfulness did not cause her to drop, deprived 
 her of the sweet charms of her age - but her wonderful talents 
 made up for what was wanting to her in this respect Her 
 black hair hung loosely on her shoulders, while she lifted 
 her large dark eyes eloquently toward Heaven, and burst into 
 loud exclamations of delight 
 
 *' Yes, I am happy beyond measure," she said, " to have such 
 5
 
 MADAME I)E STAKL. 
 
 a father! In examining the annuls of all periods of history, I 
 cannot find a name which I should like to compare with his. 
 
 "This great report is not a book, it is a deed. In giving 
 the people an insight into the financial condition of poor France, 
 he tells it that it is of age. 
 
 "Let Count d'Artois whisper to his friends that this conta 
 bleu is an absurdity which the citizen of Geneva has permitted 
 himself in his impudence; let him and his boon companions 
 oleride it as much as they please; they are unable to lessen the 
 importance of the great achievement. 
 
 "This book utters the weighty words: 'Lepeuple est souve- 
 rain! ' The people will insist on its rights, and .demand a reas- 
 onable degree of liberty. My father's Compte Rendu will give 
 rise to a revolution in France.* 
 
 " How fortunate that I live at this momentous time ! The 
 eyes of all France will be fixed on my father ; and I am his 
 daughter, and may bask in his glory. 
 
 " How I long to express the admiration with which his great 
 deed fills me ! But he is far away, and when I see him I shall 
 not be courageous enough to give vent to the feelings of my 
 heart. I write to him, but only anonymously. He must learn 
 what I feel, even without knowing that these are my feelings. 
 
 " The old gardener and his son are working yonder at the 
 asparagus beds as quietly as if nothing had happened ; and yet 
 this book makes men of them. Shall I inform them that they 
 are no longer the slaves of a despot, but citizens of a State in 
 whose burdens they participate, and to whose government they 
 should pay due attention?" 
 
 She hastened off in the direction where the two men were at 
 work. At the approach of their young mistress, they took off 
 their caps respectfully. All the servants and peasants loved 
 * D'Alembert.
 
 THE VILLA AT ST. OUEX. 99 
 
 her; for she was very charitable. The poor and suffering al- 
 ways found her willing to listen to their complaints, and her 
 sympathy did them often as much good as her money. All of 
 them knew that she had a very kind and generous heart, and 
 all liked to confide their cares and sorrows to her, because she 
 always listened to them with that solicitude and attention 
 which, for the moment, seemed to make the sufferer's condition 
 her own. 
 
 Hence, all her wishes were executed by these people with 
 utmost readiness, and the gardeners now ceased working in 
 order to listen to her attentively. 
 
 " I just wished to tell you," she began," that anew era dawns 
 upon France. My father has written this book, in which he 
 sets forth the revenues and expenditures of the State. All of 
 you may read it, and see whether or not the King judiciously 
 spends the money which you intrust to him. All of you will 
 henceforth participate in the government ; you are now citizens 
 of a powerful State ; the rights of man are recognized in France, 
 and the voice of the people will be heard. Are you not glad 
 of it?" 
 
 " If you, Mademoiselle, say that we may be glad, we are 
 glad. M. Necker is the benefactor of us all," replied the old 
 man. " But for him, France would be lost. But I cannot read 
 the book, inasmuch as I have never learned to read. But my 
 son there, he can read." 
 
 The young man had listened to her words attentively, and, 
 to all appearance, more intelligently than his father. His eyes 
 sparkled, and the expression of his face showed plainly that he 
 would like to do something else than digging in the garden. 
 
 " I read the newspapers," he said, " and have already heard 
 something about it at the village inn. To be sure, if our insti- 
 tutions could be made similar to those of North America, I
 
 100 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 should be exceedingly glad ; but for my old father here, I should 
 haA - e long since gone to America and helped the people there 
 to fight the soldiers of the King of England. The people there 
 lead a very different kind of life. They have their daily bread, 
 and pay few or no taxes. They know what they are working 
 for." 
 
 " Our institutions will never become as democratic as those 
 of North America," replied M'lle Necker, surprised at a de- 
 mand which far exceeded her wishes ; " we must keep onr 
 good King. But we may lessen the expenditures of the State, 
 and thereby relieve the burdens of the people. You see, that 
 is the object which my father is trying to attain." 
 
 " I know it," replied the young man, " we talked of it last 
 night at the village inn." 
 
 M'lle T^ecker was exceedingly anxious to hear what these 
 people said about her father when they sat together in the eve- 
 ning. She had his glory so much at heart that she wished to 
 follow it everywhere. 
 
 At this moment her companion, M'lle Huber, joined her, and 
 requested her to go into the house, where luncheon was ready. 
 
 " I cannot eat," exclaimed M'lle Necker, shaking her head. 
 " I am as if intoxicated with happiness, and looking for men 
 who will share it with me, and to whom I may express what I 
 feel." 
 
 "You may talk to me during luncheon as much as you 
 please," said her young friend, trying to draw her away. 
 
 " And preach to deaf ears. Have you not told me time and 
 again that household affairs and a new bonnet interest you a 
 great deal more than all the teachings of Montesquieu ? " 
 
 " Of course they do. But for your sake I shall listen to you, 
 and try to understand what you say. But tell me now what 
 important event has happened."
 
 THE VILLA AT ST. OUEN. 101 
 
 " I referred to this book. Look at the old oak yonder. It 
 took it a thousand years to grow to its present size, and no 
 one tells us now what hand put into the earth the acorn from 
 which sprang that mighty tree. The beginning was so small, 
 and the end is so vast. Such will be the case with this Compte 
 fl&ndit, too. The consequences of this first step are incalcula- 
 ble; no one is able to say whither will lead the path which 
 this book indicates to us. A new era is dawning upon us in 
 consequence; the seeds have been sown, and we see them 
 sprouting ; but we are as yet unable to divine who will be the 
 reapers. Oh, I admire my father so much ! He is a great, 
 great man." 
 
 " You attach so much importance to this book containing so 
 many figures ! " exclaimed her friend, doubtingly. " I am afraid 
 your filial love sees a little more in that book than there is re- 
 ally in it. But come into the house now." 
 
 " I will follow you if you will promise me to lend me your 
 pen for half an hour. I have to write an anonymous letter." 
 
 "I shall not render you any assistance for that purpose. 
 Madame Necker would never forgive me if she should find it 
 out," said M'lle Huber. 
 
 " Never fear," exclaimed Germaine, laughing. " It is no love- 
 letter; I only want to write to my father, and he must not 
 know the hand- writing." 
 
 " But do you think, then, that he does not know my hand- 
 writing?" 
 
 " In truth, I did not think of that. Very well, let us go then 
 to our pastor; he shall copy the letter." 
 
 M'lle Huber was already accustomed to the'singular whims 
 of her friend, and whenever they did not conflict with the in- 
 structions given her by Madame Necker, she yielded co them 
 willingly. So the young girls went in the course of the after-
 
 102 MAPAME PK STAEL. 
 
 noon to the village, in order to call on the clergyman who was 
 to copy the enthusiastic letter of Necker's daughter. They 
 found the aged man in his room, and sat down opposite to him 
 while he entered upon the task which was not quite easy for 
 lam. 
 
 " I know of somebody that would do it still better than I," 
 he said, putting his spectacles on his nose. " He is the sou of 
 the forester who lives at the end of the large meadow. He 
 writes a splendid hand." 
 
 "Let us go to him, then," exclaimed M'lle Necker, jumping 
 up in order to carry her intention into effect 
 
 " I do not think that it would be becoming for us to do so," 
 said M'lle Huber, disapprovingly. 
 
 " Your constant stickling for such trifling matters of eti- 
 quette," said Geruiaine, stamping the floor indignantly, " an- 
 noys me greatly. It is just because I was brought up amidst 
 such narrow-minded views that my whole nature now revolts 
 against them, and I shall follow my premier mouvement at any 
 cost. My first impulse comes from God, it can never mislead 
 mo ; our after-thoughts arise from human teachings, and are, 
 therefore, in consonance with the usages of society, and they 
 are not our highest moral law. I shall go." 
 
 "I shall accompany you, my daughter," said the pastor. 
 " M'lle Huber will then consider less objectionable a step which 
 I have suggested to you." 
 
 They found the young forester reposing from an excursion 
 into the forest, whence he had just returned. Upon hearing 
 what distinguished visitors wished to see him, he quickly ar- 
 ranged his dresiand appeared before his guests. M'lle Necker 
 was evidently surprised at his fine-looking figure and prepos- 
 sessing manners, which rendered him more similar to a courtier 
 than to a man in .his humble circumstances. Never couceulin<r
 
 THE VILLA AT ST. OUEtf. 103 
 
 her emotions, she quickly betrayed the impression which he 
 had made on her. 
 
 The pastor meanwhile addressed him, and explained to him 
 the cause of their visit 
 
 " Your request makes me very happy," he said, " and I 
 should comply with it with still greater pleasure if you would 
 permit me to deliver the letter to M. Necker in person. I ad- 
 mire your eminent father so ardently that I should be proud to 
 make his acquaintance." 
 
 " But he must not find out who addressed that letter to him," 
 exclaimed Germaine, warmly. 
 
 " Of course not I shall tell him that a stranger gave it to 
 me. Is that hi consonance with your wishes ? " 
 
 " It is, it is. But tell me now if, during your sojourn in 
 Paris, you cannot find out what people think of my father 
 there, how his Compte Rendu was received, and if the Parisians 
 are able to appreciate how bold he was in laying it before the 
 government, and in calling upon all France, nay, upon the 
 whole world, to witness his honesty." 
 
 " If you wish it, I shall visit the most popular coffee-houses 
 and listen to the conversation of the guests," replied the young 
 man. " If you have any further commissions to give me, I am 
 at your service." 
 
 " When will you have copied the letter ? And when may I 
 look for your return from Paris ? " exclaimed Germaine. 
 
 " You must not allow me for this purpose a too limited time, 
 Mademoiselle, inasmuch as I do not know when M. Necker 
 will admit me. But you may depend on it, I shall make as 
 much haste as possible in order to fulfill your wishes," he said, 
 casting an enthusiastic glance at Necker's daughter. 
 
 " Then we may go," said the pastor. 
 
 On their way home he said to them, " Mademoiselle Iluber,
 
 104 MADAME 1>E STAEL. 
 
 all that lias occurred on this occasion was in strict accordance 
 with propriety, was it not?" 
 
 "Because you were present," replied M'lle Hnber. "But 
 the young forester intends to call on us at St. Ouen." 
 
 " His visit will probably do us no harm," said Germaine, 
 sarcastically. 
 
 The girls now walked slowly in the cool evening air along 
 the path which never was entirely deserted ; when they soon 
 after entered the high-road, they met a poor woman who car- 
 ried her babe and a heavy bundle of faggots. 
 
 "How can you carry such a heavy load?" said M'lle 
 Necker to her. " You should have left your babe at home." 
 
 " It would have cried itself to death," replied the woman. 
 " We poor folks, Mademoiselle, are happiest in this world if 
 we are alone ; for we cannot pay sufficient attention to them 
 without running the risk of starving to death." 
 
 "But then such a baby is a great joy, and you know whom 
 you are toiling for. Let me carry your little daughter for a 
 moment ; it will relieve your burden." 
 
 " A lady like you cannot do that," cried the woman, in dis- 
 may, and evidently fearful lest Germaine should let the child fall 
 to the ground. 
 
 But Germaine, laughing, held it up in her strong arms, and 
 showed how easy it was for her to carry the little one. 
 
 "What if anybody should meet us here and see you with 
 the dirty child," said M'lle Huber, glancing along the road. 
 
 "In that event I should throw the little creature into the 
 ditch and jump after it, in order to hide my disgrace," cried 
 Germaine, laughing. " It is a vain endeavor," she then added, 
 " to attempt surrounding my heart with a coat of mail. It in- 
 sists on throbbing, and it shall throb. Falsehood, deception, 
 and a thousand vices endangering our character, are suffered
 
 THE VILLA AT ST. GUEST. 105 
 
 
 
 to exist without let or hinderance; but when we yield to 
 the impulses of our heart, when we feel genuine sympathy, and, 
 giving vent to it, say to anybody, ' I like you,' then an outcry 
 is raised as if we had committed a crime. Is not that too 
 stupid and silly ?" 
 
 " As you represent it, it is indeed." 
 
 " As if I represented it otherwise than it really is ! Do you 
 think I did not notice the expression of your countenance 
 when you thought that I conversed with the forester as if he 
 were my equal? As Necker's daughter, you wanted me to 
 treat him haughtily, and look upon him as an obsequious foot- 
 man, whom we reward very liberally with a gracious smile 
 and a gold piece. That was what your code of propriety told 
 you. Mine told me a very different thing. A man whose 
 forehead nature has stamped with nobility, is my equal. I am 
 a pupil of Rousseau. I did not vainly visit that proud man in 
 his humble garret, where he lived as independently as a sov- 
 ereign prince. I did not vainly read his 'Contrat Social,' 
 while other girls played with their dolls. Inasmuch as I did 
 not grow up and was not educated like other girls, I cannot 
 now be like other girls. My good woman, did you nurse your 
 babe at your own breast ? " she asked now, the remembrance 
 of Rousseau having suggested this idea to her. 
 
 " I did, Mademoiselle ; where else should I have obtained 
 the milk? I shall continue nursing it in the same manner 
 until it is over a year old." 
 
 " A very sad reason, indeed ; but still you suckle the babe," 
 said Germaine. 
 
 At this moment a heavy hand was laid on her shoulder. 
 She turned and saw that Marmontel stood behind her. 
 
 " For God's sake where do you come from ? " exclaimed 
 M'lle Necker. " You seem to have sprung from the earth."
 
 106 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 
 
 " I tried to rent a villa for my family at St. Brisc, found a 
 very good one, and, inasmuch as there was no opportunity for 
 me to return to Paris, I walked over to St. Ouen, in order to 
 throw myself on your hospitality until to-morrow morning." 
 
 " We shall try to entertain you as hospitably as possible," 
 exclaimed Germaine, joyfully ; " but, in return, you must tell 
 me as much as you can about Paris." 
 
 " As soon as you have satisfied my curiosity in regard to 
 this child," he replied, smiling, and looking at the dirty little 
 creature, which she held up with tender solicitude. 
 
 " Well, I found it here on the road, where I met that poor 
 woman, who groaned under a two-fold burden." 
 
 " That does honor to your heart, Germaine," he said, kindly. 
 " But here is the gate of your garden. What are you going to 
 do with the child ? " 
 
 She hesitated. She would have liked to accompany the 
 poor woman to her home ; but Marmoutel was tired, and she 
 could not ask this sacrifice of him. 
 
 " Wait a moment here, my good woman," she said ; " I shall 
 immediately send a servant, who will carry your child home. 
 I myself, unfortunately, cannot accompany you any longer." 
 
 So saying, she gave her the babe, and furtively slipped a 
 piece of money into her hand. 
 
 " Oh ! I am able to carry the child home. I thank you a 
 thousand times. God bless you ! " said the woman, walking 
 away with a radiant face. 
 
 Marmontel now offered his arm to Germaine, who walked 
 in very good humor by his side through the shady alleys of 
 the garden. 
 
 " What are you doing here," lie asked. " Are you writing 
 another drama ? " 
 
 "Oh! no. Dr. Tronchiu has forbidden it. I am only nl-
 
 THE VILLA AT ST. QUEST. 10 T 
 
 lowed to read, and, moreover, only for certain hours. But now 
 I am again quite well and strong, and I hope he will now per- 
 mit me again to write. I have extracted a great many passages 
 from jilontesquieu ; I have read again Voltaire's ' Les Nations/ 
 and my dear Rousseau's ' Contrat Social,' and filled my poor 
 head with some sensible ideas about political economy. But 
 ah, my dear friend, I used to amuse myself so exceedingly 
 well when I read Ann Radcliffe's novels, ' The Mysteries of 
 Udolpho,' and those other beautiful books which caused me to 
 shudder so pleasantly, and, after nightfall, to look in dismay 
 into every corner, in order to sec if there might not be a ghost 
 or some horrible monster threatening me with its fiery eyes. 
 I am quite sony every now and then that I can no longer 
 indulge in such agreeable dreams. Sir Charles Grandison and 
 Clarissa, they are different characters ; they love with all their 
 hearts. The new Heloise belongs to this class ; but for these 
 heroes we look in the world, and not in twilight hours, as if 
 they were ghosts." 
 
 " You will not be long in discovering those heroes there," 
 replied Marmontel, laughing. " Suitors will not be wanting to 
 Necker's daughter." 
 
 " Who are attracted by my father's fame and fortune, but not 
 by his daughter ! " she exclaimed, vehemently. " But I want 
 to be courted for my own sake : I want to be loved, and shall 
 give my whole heart in return. I dislike all that is cold, 
 studied, and nieasure.d. Love must touch me like an electric 
 spark, and, like a flash of lightning, strike me and the man who 
 is to belong to me. Do you not think so too, my dear Mar- 
 montel?" 
 
 '- Our imagination sometimes misleads us in this respect, my 
 dear Germaine, and we afterwards find that reality does not 
 correspond to our expectations. Human life is full of illusions,
 
 108 MADAME BE STAEL. 
 
 and these illusions form our happiness. For when they cease, 
 there is but little that remains to us." 
 
 They now entered the house. Germaine hastened first to 
 the porter, in order to whisper to him that as soon as the young 
 forester made his appearance, no matter what time it might be, 
 he should take the young man to her room, and inform her of 
 his arrival. She then returned to Marmontel. 
 
 " You have spoken with me on all sorts of topics, and not 
 said a word about my father's great achievement. What is the 
 reason ?" she said to him. 
 
 " I did not know if you had been informed of the appearance 
 of this conte bleu" he said, jocularly ; " for it is a very dangerous 
 book, whose author, if he had lived during the reign of Louis 
 the Thirteenth or Louis the Fourteenth, would no doubt have 
 been hung, while at this juncture he will only be beheaded." 
 
 " You are jesting," said Germaine, turning pale. 
 
 " I am jesting to a certain degree," replied Marmontel. " To 
 be sure, they will not literally cut off his head, but only figura- 
 tively. The court party will overthrow him." 
 
 " Should it really be able to do so ? " asked Germaine, anx- 
 iously. 
 
 " It is. Your father's downfall is certain to take place." 
 
 This reply caused her to look with increased impatience for 
 the return of her messenger from the capital, who did not 
 arrive till the following evening.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE COMMONER IN THE CABINET. 
 
 NECKER sat thoughtfully, and his head leaning on his hand, 
 at his writing-table, and forgot that hour after hour elapsed. 
 The King had rejected his request to give him, beside the 
 office of a cabinet minister, at length also the rank due to his 
 office ; and after this refusal, nothing remained for him but to 
 offer his resignation. 
 
 The old nobility were decidedly averse to tolerating the Gen- 
 evan commoner in the cabinet. These aristocrats did not ob- 
 ject to the fearful abuses and frauds by which the treasury 
 was constantly plundered ; but they felt highly offended at 
 the sudden elevation of a man who accepted no salary, had no 
 favorites, was proof against bribery, who was the embodiment 
 of honesty, and whose only fault was that he did not bear a 
 name illustrious in the history of France. 
 
 Necker deeply felt the cruel injustice of this treatment and 
 the marked ingratitude of the King. He had at court enemies 
 who disliked his economy intensely ; Marie Antoinette was 
 opposed to the minister who always spoke of retrenchments ; 
 and the Count d'Artois hated him, since he had refused to pay 
 his debts any longer. The French court had so long been ac- 
 customed to the greatest extravagance, that it was at a loss to 
 know how it happened that the public treasury was no longer 
 as well filled as formerly, when the sums drawn from it were 
 by no means as large- as those spent by the predecessors of
 
 110 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 Louis the Sixteenth. It was disagreeable to the court to hear 
 that the State was on the brink of ruin, and unable to discharge 
 its obligations ; and it hated the man who had disturbed the 
 amusements of Versailles by such gloomy pictures of the fu- 
 ture. 
 
 Necker had longed for the glory of extricating his adopted 
 country from its terrible difficulties, and devoted himself with 
 all his heart to this great task. lie was now to stop half-way, 
 and leave his office at the very moment when, by publishing 
 his Compte Itendu, he had made such an important step for- 
 ward. 
 
 He now regretted having placed himself in a position which 
 compelled him to offer his resignation. Why should he have 
 hankered after the outward rank of a position which he filled 
 in reality ? Why yield to the petty pride which revolted at 
 such a slight which he could well afford to despise ? 
 
 Suddenly the low rustling of a lady's dress fell on his ears, 
 and his wife entered by the door which had only been ajar. 
 
 She looked at him inquiringly with her clear blue eyes, and, 
 when she noticed the cloud on his forehead, she stepped close 
 up to him, laid her right hand on his shoulder, while with her 
 left she tried to smooth his face, and said, " So thoughtful, my 
 dear Necker ! " 
 
 Instead of replying to her, he laid his head, as if wearily, on 
 the partner of his joys and sorrows, and tenderly pressed her 
 delicate white hand to his lips. 
 
 " There are several acquaintances in the salon. Will you 
 not salute them ? " she asked, gently. 
 
 " I cannot see anybody to-day," he replied, in a voice tremu- 
 lous with emotion. " Go back to them and excuse me. I am 
 unwell." 
 
 " Bodily unwell, too ? "
 
 THE COMMONER IN THE CABINET. Ill 
 
 " Yes The mind docs not leave the body untouched ; both 
 of them generally suffer together." 
 
 " And you wish to conceal from me what weighs you down ? " 
 she asked, in a tone of mingled surprise and vexation. 
 
 " It would probably be the first time when you did not share 
 what concerns me, my faithful wife. I tried to conceal it from 
 you merely for a time ; but as I am unable to do so any longer, 
 let me tell you that I have been dismissed." 
 
 His wife uttered a cry, and Necker, as if overcome by its 
 sound, sank upon a chair and buried his face in his hands. 
 
 lie wept. 
 
 Immovable like a rock, he had hitherto stood before his wife 
 in all relations of life ; his deep emotion, therefore, made an 
 overpowering impression upon her. Bursting likewise into 
 tears, she knelt before his chair, drew his hands gently from 
 his face, pressed them to her lips, and buried her own face in 
 them. She uttered not a word, in order to give him time to 
 master his grief; when she finally thought that he had calmed 
 sufficiently to relieve his mind by speaking to her, she begged 
 him to tell her the reason why the King had dismissed him. 
 
 " At my own request ! " he replied. This answer re-assured 
 her greatly. It was only repentance that was gnawing at him 
 now, and tormenting his heart with the bitter reproach that he 
 had sacrificed the welfare of France to his wounded pride. 
 
 " We shall go to-morrow to St. Ouen, to our daughter," said 
 Necker, as soon as he had composed himself. " Society and 
 remembrance of my lost position are now exceedingly painful 
 to me. So you will do me a favor by inviting as few guests as 
 possible." 
 
 " Nothing is sweeter to me than to live with you and for 
 you," replied his wife, tenderly. " But, my dear Necker, it 
 seems to me the whole matter is not yet settled. You have of-
 
 112 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 I'nvd your resignation to the King, but his answer has not yet 
 arrived." 
 
 " It can only be such as I expect. Otherwise he would have 
 to grant my former request, which he can no longer do. So 
 pray prepare everything for our departure." 
 
 " Above all, let me request our guests to excuse you and me 
 for to-day. I likewise feel unable to pass my time in idle con- 
 versation ; the more so, as I know that you are here sad and 
 alone." 
 
 She left him in order to issue the necessary orders, and then 
 returned to her husband. 
 
 " If it is agreeable to you, we shall go to the country this 
 very day," she said to him. 
 
 " Why ? " he asked, sharply. 
 
 " The evening is so beautiful, I should like to enjoy it with 
 you in the open air. I have ordered the carriage ; it is ready 
 now. Come ! " 
 
 She rose. He fixed his eyes on her. She dropped her's in 
 order to avoid his glance. 
 
 " You have the King's reply ! " he said at length, quickly, as 
 if it was difficult for him to utter the words. 
 
 Averting her face, she handed him a letter. He seized it, 
 broke the seal, glanced over the contents, and efblaimed, " I am 
 ready. Let us go." And he followed her hastily to the car- 
 riage. 
 
 Germaine Necker did not look for this sudden arrival of her 
 parents. The young forester had reported to her that the Pa- 
 risians were extolling her father ; that both the rich and the 
 poor were reading the Compte Rendu with the utmost en- 
 thusiasm ; that even the ladies at the Queen's court were study- 
 ing this book, and that every one was speaking only of the 
 revenues and expenditures of the State. She was overjoyed at
 
 THE COMMONER IN THE CABINET. 113 
 
 her father's success, and could uot hear enough about it. The 
 young man had to hasten daily to the city and bring her news 
 from it. He had to buy for her all the papers and political pam- 
 phlets of the day ; every word concerning her father was im- 
 portant to her. 
 
 Her room was full of these papers, which she did not permit 
 anybody to touchy and as she -herself took no pleasure in ar- 
 ranging them, there was soon scarcely room enough left for 
 her to move in the boudoir. M'lle Iluber laughed at this chaos, 
 which was so little in consonance with her taste ; but Ger- 
 maine did not pay any attention to her jests, and left every- 
 thing as before. 
 
 Every now and then some of the many papers which she re- 
 ceived contained attacks upon her father, and the indignation 
 with which they filled her was indescribable. His opponents 
 in the press called him the Genevan charlatan, compared him 
 with Mesmer, derided his arrogance, and caricatured him in 
 every possible way. He had unfortunately been imprudent 
 enough to allude in his work to the great merits of his wife, 
 and to extol her virtues in a manner which caused a great many 
 persons to smile. His adversaries knew how to turn this to ac- 
 count. The young forester had at first hesitated to buy such 
 papers and pamphlets, too, for M'lle Necker ; but when she 
 became aware of their existence in consequence of some allu- 
 sions which she had found in the other papers, she insisted on 
 getting them, too. 
 
 She had just received another package of papers, etc. ; among 
 them was a caricature, headed, " The Hero of the Deficit," and 
 representing her father, who was just about to open the door 
 of the royal cabinet, but Count d'Artois, saying, " No more 
 ' Contes bleus,' " prevented him from so doing. She tore the 
 caricature into a thousand pieces, trampled on them, and ft-
 
 114 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 nally threw them out of the window. She then sat down on the 
 floor and burst into loud sobs. M'lle Huber heard these sobs, and 
 hastened to her in order to console her. But her words were 
 utterly wasted. 
 
 The whole nature of the young girl revolted at the ignominy 
 so unjustly heaped on her father; she could not bear the idea 
 that his eminent services were to be requited in this shameful 
 manner ; and as she had not yet learned to conceal her grief, 
 she freely gave vent to her feelings. 
 
 Exhausted by this powerful agitation, she had finally fallen 
 into a slumber, which her friend took care not to disturb. The 
 roll of a carriage, however, the noise of voices, the opening 
 and closing of doors, woke her up before long. For a moment 
 she listened attentively; she then jumped up and hastened 
 down stairs. 
 
 When she crossed the hall, Marmontel had just entered the 
 door, breathlessly. 
 
 " Your poor father ! " he exclaimed, holding out his hand to 
 her. " Come, we must try to comfort him. He has not de- 
 served such base ingratitude." 
 
 " Oh, it is the basest ingratitude ! " she cried, thinking only of 
 her caricatures. "Ah, Marmontel, you do not know how it 
 grieves me ! " 
 
 " Hush, hush ! You must not now show that you grieve, 
 but receive your father with a smiling face, as if nothing had 
 happened." 
 
 They entered the salon. 
 
 Necker, deeply moved, folded his beloved daughter to his 
 heart He felt as if he must now seek for two-fold indemnifica- 
 tion in her love for the injustice which had been done to him, 
 and he pressed her long and silently to his breast. It was not 
 till then that he greeted his friend, who, having accidentally
 
 THE COMMONER IN THE CABINET. 115 
 
 learned what had occurred, had hastened to St. Ouen in order 
 to condole with him. 
 
 Shortly after, Necker's brother made his appearance. He had 
 intended to visit him in Paris, and, being informed of his sud- 
 den departure, and suspecting that some untoward event had 
 happened, had followed him to St. Ouen. 
 
 The small circlp sat together in moody silence. No one 
 cared to allude to the subject which weighed down all hearts, 
 and yet this silence was exceedingly disagreeable to all of them. 
 
 Marmoutel finally entered into a conversation with Germaine, 
 inasmuch as, owing to her ignorance of her father's removal, 
 she seemed to bf most inclined to turn her thoughts toward 
 other subjects. 
 
 " Are you aware, my young friend, Jhat our poor M. Raynal 
 is going to be exiled from Paris on account of the new edition 
 of his ' History of India ? ' " 
 
 " Indeed ! " she exclaimed, in surprise. " It is true, I read 
 several allusions to the probability of the book being prohib- 
 ited ; but I did not see anywhere that the personal liberty of 
 the author was endangered." 
 
 " Well, it is not He will leave Paris quietly until the storm 
 blows over ; but his book will be publicly burned to-morrow 
 by the executioner on the steps of the archepiscopal palace." 
 
 "That sounds awful!" exclaimed the young girl, to whom 
 her lively imagination depicted the ceremony. " I should like 
 to see it." 
 
 " Do not wish for it ; it would afford you but little pleasure. 
 Such acts remind us of the times of the Inquisition, and are un- 
 worthy of an enlightened age." 
 
 " I wonder why the King permits such things," asked Ger- 
 maine, in surprise. " If I were in his place I should be fear- 
 ful lest they should detract from my glory."
 
 116 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 " Louis the Sixteenth does not think of his glory, for he is a 
 King. He is a good man, but never will be a great ruler. 
 It is true, he reads a great many historical works, especially 
 histories of England, but he never derives any salutary lessons 
 from them. His surroundings probably exercise a most injuri- 
 ous influence over him. A court cannot exist without para- 
 sites ; nobody else would consent to wear the livery of princes 
 and become their humble and obsequious servant. These 
 court parasites cannot work, inasmuch as they are of noble 
 birth ; they are born servants of the King ; they serve him be- 
 cause he supports them." 
 
 " Why do not these noblemen remain on their estates," ex- 
 claimed Gcrmaine, " or serve in the army as the Condes, 
 Montmorencys, and so many others have done recently, since 
 Lafayette opened them the way to the New World ? " 
 
 " Yes, if they had estates, my dear Germaine ! Originally 
 the noblemen were vassals of the King, who supported the 
 throne with their means and strength. But this relationship 
 has undergone a very marked change since that time. There 
 are at this juncture, perhaps, eighty thousand noble families in 
 France, a number which has grown so large in consequence 
 of the eleven thousand offices with which titles of nobility are 
 connected. Besides, our kings granted patents of nobility 
 nearly every day, and during the War of Succession they were 
 sold for two thousand dollars each. Among all these noble 
 families there are only about one thousand whose names are as 
 old as the monarchy, and familiar to our ears by the remem- 
 brance of glorious deeds. These great names, however, were 
 not always handed down to the descendants with the grea* 
 qualities of their ancestors, and prodigal grandsons squan- 
 dered their fortunes, so that there remain to Jiie latter now-a- 
 days but two ways to escape starvation, namely, either to serve
 
 THE COMMONER IX THE CABINET. 117 
 
 as parasites at court, or to marry the daughter of a rich ple- 
 beian." 
 
 " But I believe the writings of Rousseau and Voltaire, and 
 the American War of Independence, will impart more dignity 
 to nobility of the mind, so that it will eclipse that of birth," 
 exclaimed Germaine. 
 
 " I doubt it," replied Marmontel. " It is so pleasant to be 
 something without possessing any merits." 
 
 " And so unpleasant to see great merits ignored because 
 one's name is Necker and not Conde." 
 
 " There you are perfectly right," he said, laughing. 
 
 At this moment the footman entered and told Germaine that 
 the young forester was in her room. 
 
 The young girl crimsoned at these words, and glanced tim- 
 idly at her father. M. Necker, leaning his head on his hand, 
 had thus far sat in seeming apathy, and not listened to the con- 
 versation; but now he raised himself up, and fixing his eyes 
 inquiringly on his daughter, he said : 
 
 " What forester is it who is at this hour in my daughter's 
 room ? " 
 
 Germaine was in a tempest of perplexity. She turned alter- 
 nately red and pale, and panted for breath. At length, she 
 gathered courage enough to stammer, " It is my messenger. I 
 send him often to the city to purchase books and papers for rne." 
 
 " Which you could not get from your father ? " 
 
 "Perhaps you would dislike to send them to me; at all 
 events, you never sent them to me." 
 
 " Because you never asked me to do so, and I could not 
 anticipate that you took interest in such things. What kind 
 of papers did he purchase for you ? " 
 
 " You will find all of them in my room," said Germaine, in 
 a low voice.
 
 118 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 "And your messenger, too. Come then, my child; let me 
 see both of them," he said, rising, taking his daughter's hand, 
 and conducting her out of the room. Those who remained in 
 the salon looked after them in silence. 
 
 Father and daughter ascended the staircase slowly. 
 
 The passage up-stairs was dark; the return of the parents 
 not having been expected, the upper part of the house had not 
 yet been lighted. In M'lle Necker's room, however, burned 
 two wax candles, whose light enabled M. Necker to recognize 
 the bearer of the anonymous letter immediately. 
 
 "Ah!" he said to himself. "That is what I suspected. 
 Have you not yet found out for me, young man, who wrote 
 that letter to me," he said to the forester. 
 
 " Not yet, Monsieur," replied the young man, bowing in con- 
 fusion. 
 
 " And what is the news which you bring to my daughter to- 
 day from Paris ? " he went on to ask. 
 
 " Very painful news, which I need not communicate to her, 
 since Monsieur himself is here," he replied, in a very respectful 
 tone. 
 
 " So the rumor of my removal was already generally 
 known?" he asked in surprise, and not suspecting that Ger- 
 maine was as yet entirely ignorant of it. 
 
 " Your removal ! " she screamed, and sank senseless to the 
 ground. 
 
 A gloomy silence reigned next morning in the streets of 
 Paris. It was Sunday, but no one thought of pleasure and 
 amusements. 
 
 Like wildfire spread the dreadful tidings that Necker had 
 been dismissed. Only gloomy faces were to be seen on the 
 promenades and in the coffee-houses. No jests, no witticisms, 
 to which the Parisians are generally always accessible, were
 
 THE COMMONER IK THE CABINET. 113 
 
 able to cheer up the multitude. All believed to have lost theii 
 protector in Necker, and saw both themselves and Franca 
 threatened with hunger and distress. 
 
 As tar as the eye reached, the road to St. Ouen was covered 
 with carriages. 
 
 The Archbishop of Paris, followed by the Dukes of Orleans 
 and Chartres, and all the eminent men of the country, hastened 
 thither in order to tell Necker that they disapproved the step 
 which the King had taken. 
 
 Necker, pale, but composed, received these manifestations of 
 S3*mpathy. Self-love always suffers a little when it hears the 
 language of compassion assume the tone of sympathy. 
 
 Germaine was not present. She stood with M'lle Huber on 
 the roof of the house, and looked at the endless number of car- 
 riages which arrived and left. Her eyes were still swollen from 
 the tears which she had shed, and around her lips was quiver- 
 ing the grief which had struck her heart; but the sympathy 
 manifested for her father did her good.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 LOUIS PHILIPPE'S GOVERNESS. 
 
 MADAME DE GENUS sat in an elegantly furnished boudoir, 
 and was playing a voluntary on her harp. Through the half- 
 open window penetrated to her the fragrant odors of hyacinths 
 and stock gilly-flowers, wafted to her by the gentle breeze 
 which played in the foliage of the trees, and moderated the 
 heat of the day. 
 
 For a moment she then leaned back in her comfortable easy- 
 chair, and allowed the instrument to rest in her arms. Her 
 eyes wandered thoughtfully and dreamily about the room, and 
 at last she fixed them on the large painting hanging on the 
 wall opposite to her, and representing her aunt, Madame de 
 Montesson, who had succeeded in becoming the wife of the 
 Duke of Orleans, and having her niece appointed governess of 
 his grandsons. 
 
 "What has she gained by it, after all?" she said to herself 
 in a low voice, as she called to mind all these relations which, 
 in many respects, were so painful to her. "The Bourbons re- 
 fuse to recognize her; she must submit to the humiliation of 
 not being permitted anywhere to appear as his legitimate wife ; 
 what good does it do her that she is his wife before God, if men 
 treat her as though she were not ? What is to her an honor 
 Which no one sees, no one respects, no one admits ? " 
 
 A sigh escaped her breast as these thoughts crossed her 
 mind.
 
 LOUIS PHILIPPE^, GOVEUXESS. Ul 
 
 Madame do Genlis was still a very handsome woman. She 
 
 ' / possessed a cultivated mind, and her gracefulness lent a charm 
 
 ' 
 
 to her every movement; but all these attractions were in- 
 sufficient to procure her that position in the world for which 
 -she longed. She had no fortune ; her husband squandered more 
 money than his income amounted to ; and to protect herself from 
 want, she had entered upon a calling which imposed many 
 privations upon her. She had written books which had been 
 favorably received. To live in brilliant style at the capital and 
 receive at her house the most eminent men of the age, would 
 have satisfied her ambitious heart; instead of this, her vanity 
 was unable to achieve a higher triumph than that of obtaining 
 the title of governess, which made her ridiculous in the eyes of 
 a great many people. 
 
 Toward the close of the eighteenth century there were not 
 so many authoresses as talented ladies, whose standing in 
 society and at home, and the intercourse with eminent men, 
 gave them an influence which often enabled them to sway pub 
 lie opinion. There was no need for them to write anything in 
 order to obtain the recognition for which they strove ; for the 
 salon was the arena where they were able to display the 
 charms of their mind, and acquire influence even in the politi- 
 cal world. 
 
 At that time the gentlemen never separated from the ladies 
 in society; the conversation at parties always was general, and 
 the interests of both sexes were identical. All took particular 
 pains to acquire elegance of diction; the gentlemen, in order 
 to entertain the ladies agreeably; and the ladies, in order to 
 add to the charm of their words. AH made verses, and a favo- 
 rite amusement was to trace word-portraits, and to let the other 
 guests guess the person who was meant. 
 
 At a later time, when political affairs overshadowed all other 
 6
 
 122 MADAME DE STAKI,. 
 
 interests, a change took place in this respect ; grave debates 
 seemed no longer suitable to the ears of ladies, and the salon 
 was too narrow a field for the unbridled hatred of the contend- 
 ing parties. With this change, manners, nay, costumes, under- 
 Aveut a marked transformation, and social refinement disap- 
 peared. 
 
 It was Louis the Sixteenth who founded the first club, after 
 an English model, and caused newspapers and pamphlets to be 
 purchased for general use. Little did he suspect at that time 
 that such a club, a society of men meeting regularly at a certain 
 place, would be formed against him a few years afterward under 
 the name of Jacobins, and demand his execution. 
 
 France at that lime made immense steps in the development 
 of intellectual culture, and Europe looked at her with astonish- 
 ment and admiration. Frederick the Great sent to Paris for 
 the ornaments of his court, and Catherine of Russia became the 
 generous protectress of French savants. Nearly all princes vied 
 with each other in taking poets or eminent scholars under 
 their protection ; and the representatives of intelligence, thus 
 honored and distinguished, deemed it a priceless boon that 
 they had been sent into the world endowed with the imperish- 
 able treasure of mental ability. 
 
 Society granted the ladies full liberty to admire talents and 
 wreathe laurels to them, but it disliked to see their beautiful 
 hands grasp at such crowns of their own. For them there 
 was but one kind of glory to exist : that of loving and winning 
 love. Only the rose was to bloom for them, only its buds were 
 to be plucked by them. 
 
 M -image was a mere family compact; it gave the wife a po- 
 sition in society; it was looked upon as one of the obligations 
 which man takes upon himself with his existence. Love -was 
 not allowed to have any influence at the conclusion of this
 
 LOUIS PHILIPPE'S GOVERNESS. 123 
 
 compact, inasmuch as that might have led to a subversion of 
 civil order. The parents or relatives made the choice, and if 
 mau and wife liked one another, it was a lucky accident. 
 
 Madame de Genlis had been married in this manner, and so, 
 without grieving too much, submitted to circumstances which 
 separated her from her husband. 
 
 She lived with her pupils at Chateau Belle Chasse, which 
 had been arranged for her in princely style, and where every 
 comfort of wealth and luxury was offered to her ; nevertheless, 
 she felt the sacrifices which her position imposed upon her, 
 and she sighed for the gay life of the capital. Hence, he who 
 visited her in her solitude, and entertained her with news from 
 the capital, was twice welcome to her. 
 
 A valet de cTwtmbre, dressed in the fashion of that period, with 
 powdered hair, and large lace cuffs, now entered the room, and 
 informed her that a carriage was visible in the long poplar 
 alley leading to the chateau. 
 
 She rose, stepped before the looking-glass, and cast a search- 
 ing glance at her slender and delicate form. She then put 
 her harp aside, and prepared to go to meet her guests in the 
 ante-room. 
 
 By the doors of the hall, which had been thrown wide open 
 in order to admit the ladies with their hoop-skirts and their 
 bonnets fastened to the high hair-dress, there entered with a 
 slow measured step Madame Necker, followed by her daughter, 
 and allowed herself to be ceremoniously embraced by Madame 
 de Genlis. Germaine followed her mother's example. Mad- 
 ame de Genlis then conducted them to her boudoir, where all 
 three of them seated themselves. 
 
 " How amiable you are to visit me here," said Madame de 
 Genlis, very politely. " I should have gladly called on you 
 first ; but the duties of my position unfortunately prevented
 
 124 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 me from so doing. How long it is since we met last ! M'lle 
 Necker has meanwhile grown up and become so tall and* 
 strong that I should have hardly recognized her. The air in 
 the country evidently agrees with her. And now you live en- 
 tirely at St. Ouen, as the Duke told me. You have renounced 
 the pleasures of the capital." 
 
 " Say, rather, that I have never known them," said Madame 
 Necker, smiling. " A pleasant domestic circle always was 
 the goal of my wishes, and as these were more than fulfilled, 
 and in great part thwarted, I submitted to the change as to a 
 duty, rather than a favor of fate." 
 
 "Thank God, it has relieved you again of this burden," re- 
 marked Madame de Genlis, somewhat maliciously. 
 
 " If I consulted only my own interest, I should certainly say, 
 thank God," replied Madame Necker, with her usual calmness ; 
 " but the welfare of the whole French people was at stake, and 
 my wishes could not but be disregarded." 
 
 " That you, although you are foreigners, take such a lively 
 interest in our welfare, certainly entitles you to our gratitude," 
 said Madame de Genlis, politely, but with a sarcastic smile 
 playing round her lips. " But you are aware how vain men 
 are ; and so many imagine to be able to manage the affairs of 
 the country very creditably, nay, they assert even that only a 
 native of France, and, moreover, a Frenchman belonging to 
 the old nobility, is able to do so. Love of country and loyalty 
 must have been handed down from age to age, and be closely 
 interwoven with the interests of him who wishes to serve his 
 country efficiently. Only a foreigner could have been capable 
 of committing the indiscretion to publish a statement of our 
 financial condition. This is what is said at court; that the 
 Duke of Orleans dissents from these views, I am sure he has 
 told you repeatedly, and proved to you very recently."
 
 LOUIS PHILIPPE'S GOVERNESS. 125 
 
 " Is it possible," exclaimed Germaine, excitedly, " that any- 
 body on earth should call my father's great deed an indiscre- 
 tion ? " 
 
 " You must pardon my daughter," interposed Madame 
 Necker, " if she smarts under every word of censure uttered 
 against M. Necker." 
 
 " I pardon it not only, but approve it," replied Madame de 
 Genlis. "Mademoiselle Necker is still very young; she is only 
 just entering upon real life, and is as yet ignorant of human 
 nature. She has hitherto seen only one side of everything, 
 and forgets that it still remains for her to view the other. This 
 is a sweet privilege of youth. Ardent devotion to the present, 
 to friends, to great ideas, passes away with it, and our sighs do 
 not bring back anything. I congratulate you, M'lle Necker, 
 upon possessing a father on whom your filial love may bestow 
 such warm admiration. May you retain this sweet privilege 
 a long time ! " 
 
 Germaine rose and pressed the hand of Madame de Geulis 
 to her lips. "You are as talented as you are amiable !" she 
 exclaimed. " You do not know how ardently I admire you, 
 and how urgently I have begged my mother to take me to 
 you." 
 
 " Indeed ! " replied Madame de Genlis, responding by an 
 affable smile to this warm effusion. " I am very glad of it. 
 If my writings interest young folks and win for me the affec- 
 tions of hearts still susceptible of the beautiful and good, my 
 toils are amply rewarded. I have just finished a little play, 
 which will perhaps also please you." 
 
 , " What is its title? " asked Germaine. "How inexhaustible 
 your imagination is, and how inventive your mind ! Nature 
 has lavished its choicest gifts on you, and you know how to 
 turn them to account. But tell me now, what is the title of
 
 126 -MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 your play; what is its subject; and for what purpose did you 
 write it?" 
 
 " You propound to me a great many questions at the same 
 time," said Madame de Genlis, smiling; " let me begin, then, 
 with the first. The title is Zelie ou V Ingenue; and the subject, 
 like that of all my writings, is destined to instruct young folks. 
 Women should become authoresses only when, in doing so, 
 they try to attain an object far above the mere gratification of 
 our vanity. I myself determined to publish my writings only 
 after a severe inward struggle, and, despite all the reasons 
 which induced me to take this step, I have to call them often 
 to mind in order not to rue it" 
 
 These words were uttered for the purpose of making an 
 impression on Madame Necker, but they deceived only 
 Germaine. 
 
 " Ah ! How lamentable the lot of our sex is ! " she ex- 
 claimed, mournfully. " We are told that we are born only to 
 perform the riartow duties w T hich husbands and children im- 
 pose on us, and are alw r ays to obey. My father has often 
 praised, in my presence, the happiness of stupid persons, and 
 even commended writing a work entitled Le bonlieur des sots." 
 
 " What, has he had time to spare for such things ? " asked 
 Madame de Genlis, in surprise. 
 
 " He knows, like you, how to work for twenty-four hours 
 every day," replied Madame Necker, smiling. " But to return 
 to your latest work, would you take umbrage, or smile at my 
 desire to be the first to get acquainted with its' contents ? " 
 
 " It will afford me great pleasure to read the play to you," 
 replied Madame de Genlis, kindly. " It is always agreeable to 
 an author to hear the opinion of able critics, before his work 
 is submitted to the public. Then it cannot be changed any 
 more, but must remain as it is."
 
 LOUIS PAILIPPE'S GOVERNESS. 127 
 
 Madame cle Genlis then took from her writing-table a manu- 
 script written in a very neat hand, and read the play to her 
 guests in a very impressive manner. Her voice was clear and 
 sonorous, and the tact with which she varied her tone, and 
 never exceeded the bounds of good taste, rendered her recita- 
 tion exceedingly attractive and entertaining. Germaine burst 
 repeatedly into loud exclamations of admiration, and when 
 Madame de Geulis concluded, Uecker's daughter sank, with 
 streaming eyes, at her feet, pressed the hands of the authoress 
 to her lips, and assured her she had passed with her one of 
 the most beautiful hours of her life. 
 
 Madame de Genlis, raising her up and imprinting a kiss on 
 her forehead, thanked her for her warm applause, and said, 
 " I hope you and your dear mother will take with you from 
 Belle Chasse such impressions as will cause you to repeat your 
 visit." 
 
 " Your presence here is a sufficient inducement, for us to do 
 so," said Madame Necker ; " and if we deny ourselves the 
 pleasure of visiting you frequently, it is because modesty pre 
 vents us from molesting you too often." 
 
 " That is a virtue by which, I hope, you will not punish 
 me," replied Madame de Genlis, who felt her superiority as a 
 conversationalist too well not to display it before her guest. 
 " Perhaps you will allow me to show you the chateau and the 
 gardens ; that is to say, if it does not weary you, Madame 
 Necker, for you look feeble." 
 
 " I regret to say that I am in feeble health ; nevertheless, I 
 must not use this as a pretext to evade the disagreeable duties 
 of my position ; how much less, then, should I deny myself 
 to-day a pleasure which your kindness offers to me," replied 
 Madame Necker. 
 
 Madame dc Genlis found this answer stJiF and pedantic.
 
 128 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 " She cannot get rid of the tone of a governess," she said to 
 herself; "no intercourse with the world will change her." 
 " You spoil me by your great kindness," she replied, smilingly. 
 " I am now hardly courageous enough to serve you as a guide, 
 fearful as I am lest your trouble should not be repaid." 
 
 " Ah ! a portrait of the Duke ! " exclaimed Germaine, stand- 
 ing still before the full-length portrait of a man in full uni- 
 form. 
 
 " You know him ?" asked Madame de Genlis. 
 
 " Only by his resemblance to our good King." 
 
 " He is not like him, though, either in his appearance or 
 character. Louis the Sixteenth is not as good a man as he is 
 said to be. His first thought always springs from the im- 
 pulses of evil passions, and only the second is good-natured. 
 This may become very dangerous to a king; for scarcely 
 drops the first syllable from his lips, when the obsequious zeal 
 of a courtier carries it already into execution. A king mast 
 first think, and then act ; that is what I teach my princes," 
 
 " I think you are perfectly right,*' said Madame Necker. 
 
 " Then I must dissent alone from your opinion, and venture 
 to assert that all that is great and beautiful has been done ou 
 the spur of the moment,"' exclaimed Germaine, glowingly. 
 " If we are always to calculate and reason, what is to become 
 of the pulsations of a warm heart ? Poor human nature ! 
 they would like to deprive you of all your rights, and, in re- 
 turn, build altars to reason. Love from reason is no worse 
 than hatred from reason. I do not want any feeling, standing 
 under the scepter of this co)d master; I do not want the tear 
 which reason weeps, any more than the grief to which it sets 
 bounds. I do not want the joy which is manifested in accord- 
 ance with mathematical calculations, nor the word of love 
 which they dictate to the lips. You passions, all that agitate
 
 LOUIS PHILIPPE'S GOVEFVNESS. 129 
 
 the human breast, I invoke you ! Is it not to be dead to be 
 without you ?...." 
 
 " For God's sake, Germaine 1 . ..." exclaimed Madame 
 Necker, in a low voice. 
 
 " Pray do not Interrupt her," interposed Madame de Genlis. 
 " I like to hear the utterance of sentiments which, in this 
 slippery sphere, fall but very rarely on my ears. Propriety 
 has suppressed much that is natural and innocent, and good 
 manners do not permit other things to be uttered. Add to it 
 the cloistral seclusion in which our young girls grow up. 
 They are utterly inexperienced at the time when they enter 
 life, and love and passion are words which have no meaning 
 for them. Such, however, is not the case with M'lle Necker. 
 At her cradle sat the encyclopedists, and philosophers added 
 zest to her play. Having become a governess, it is of course 
 interesting for me to see the results of an educational system 
 so different from our own. I had always been told that M'lle 
 Xecker was wondrously gifted, and I have now obtained with 
 great pleasure the conviction that those reports were perfectly 
 true." 
 
 " My daughter is very young, Madame, and although she 
 often still allows herself to be swayed by her feelings, and is 
 somewhat rash in her opinions, years and the world will teach 
 her to cool down and master her emotions." 
 
 " I am afraid not, Mamma. ' Suppress nature, and it will 
 come back at the gallop,' says Feuelon. Never, never shall I 
 place myself on a footing of equality with trained human na- 
 tures ; never shall my lips utter sentiments which my heart 
 does not feel. I am my father's daughter. I shall strive to 
 be as truthful as he is, and my heart shall be as open as his 
 life. Hypocrisy and falsehood shall never stain my character." 
 
 " Excellenl as these principles are, M'lle Neckcr, it is very
 
 130 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 difficult to adhere to them in life," replied Madame de Genlis, 
 smiling. " Society compels us only to deviate from truth, and 
 we must be false in a certain sense in order to succeed in this 
 world. As a foreigner, however, you encounter in this direction 
 fewer difficulties than we descendants of an ancient name." 
 
 " For God's sake, Madame, do not call me a foreigner," cried 
 Germaine, excitedly ; " I am a child of this soil with all my 
 heart, and cannot bear being thus declared hors la lot. No place 
 on earth would indemnify me for Paris, and la rue du Bac is an 
 earthly paradise. In France alone is to be found that conver- 
 sational sprightliness and wit, of which no other people on 
 earth can boast. All new discoveries in the realm of science 
 hasten to us in order to be put to the test, before mankind ac- 
 cepts them. How many of them did we see here within the 
 last twenty years ! Gall, Mesmer, Saint Germain, and Cagli- 
 ostro, the balloon and the lightning-rod, Gluck and Piccini, 
 all were anxious to exhibit their new discoveries to us. Iii 
 truth, I would rather live in a Parisian garret on a hundred 
 louis d'ors a year, than dispose of millions in any other coun- 
 try.* Paris offers us an incessant stimulus to menial activity ; 
 not a day elapses but that brings forth something new, while 
 stagnation reigns everywhere else. And what is a life without 
 progress, but death ? " 
 
 Madame de Geulis smiled. 
 
 " It is veiy flattering to my country that you desire to look 
 upon it as your own," she said ; " and, perhaps, we may soon 
 be happy enough to consider you wholly ours ; for your es- 
 teemed father, no doubt, will not hesitate to grant an independ- 
 ent establishment to his only daughter. What with his social 
 position and fortune, the choice of a husband cannot be diffi- 
 cult to him." 
 
 * Her own words.
 
 LOUIS PHILIPPE'S GOVERNESS. 131 
 
 " We do not think of separating from our daughter," inter- 
 posed Madame Necker. 
 
 " I do not think it a separation when you are able to see one 
 another every day, and it will be the easier for you to live close 
 together, as your religion compels you to give the preference to 
 a young man struggling for an independent position in life ; 
 for thus far no heir of a great name, as far as I know, has 
 adopted the faith of Calvin. However, it may remain for M'lle 
 Necker's gifted mind to bring about such a miracle, and I shall 
 certainly not grudge her this triumph either." 
 
 " My daughter has learned to respect the religious faith of 
 others, and will take no pains to bring over any proselytes to 
 her own ; least of all will she try to convert members of the old 
 nobility of France, with which neither my husband nor I de- 
 sire to connect her." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, then," said Madame de Genlis, apologeti- 
 cally, " if I have entertained for you wishes which would be 
 but natural in your place." 
 
 At this moment the footman announced that Madame Keek- 
 er's carriage was at the door. 
 
 The ladies parted in the most polite and cordial manner. 
 Madame de Genlis accompanied her guests as far as the outer 
 door, and embraced both Of them amid the most flattering as- 
 surances of the pleasure which their visit had caused to her. 
 Then, uttering a " Thank God ! " she returned to her room and 
 wrote in her diary : " These Neckers are the most intolerable 
 persons I have ever met with full of pride and arrogance ; and 
 the daughter especially, is utterly unable to set bounds to her ex- 
 travagant utterances ; despite her intense admiration for me, 
 she displeased me exceedingly, and I shall take pains to de- 
 pict in a novel the consequences of an education such as she 
 has received. I advised the mother cautiously, to marry her
 
 132 MADAME DE STAEL, 
 
 to some brewer or baker, and I hope she understood what I 
 meant ; at all events, she left immediately." 
 
 Madame Necker meanwhile sat by her daughter's side, strug- 
 gling for composure. Her feebleness added to her irritability, 
 and a wound that is constantly torn open afresh, finally smarts 
 at the slightest touch. Incessant pains were taken to revenge 
 her husband's position upon her and her daughter, and this 
 was not the first time when she had been cautioned against 
 dreaming of a connection with the old nobility of France. The 
 ill-will dictating such hints, could not but mortify her, inas- 
 much as it was so utterly undeserved. 
 
 Germaine cast an anxious glance at her mother's pale face, 
 without suspecting, however, what had given rise to this 
 pallor. She had not noticed the drift of Madame de Genlis' 
 remarks, and, much gratified at the conversation she had had 
 with her, gazed up to the sky glowing with the purple tints of 
 the setting sun. She began to hum a song, and finally, forget- 
 ful of the place where she was, she sang in a loud and deep 
 voice. Her mother's warning voice restored her presence of 
 mind to her. She laughed loudly at what she had done. " It 
 was too ludicrous, indeed !" she exclaimed. "How fortunate 
 that my voice did not cause our horses to run away 1 May I 
 seat myself on the box beside the coachman?" she asked, 
 after a while. " The evening is so very fine." 
 
 Madame Necker told her it would be unbecoming. 
 
 " Can we not drive by way t*f Saint Brice," Germaine 
 began soon again. " I should like to know when Piccini 
 will come to Marmontel, that I may take my singing-lessons 
 there." 
 
 " You may send a messenger thither to-morrow and ask for 
 a written reply," replied her mother. 
 
 " Always no, and always no," hummed Germaine.
 
 LOUIS PHILIPPE'S GOVERNESS. 133 
 
 " And if it were 'always yes,' I soon should not know what 
 you might not ask for," said her mother, frowningly. 
 
 " I know it, and can tell you if you like to know it, too : 
 beauty, and a handsome husband ! " exclaimed Germaine, 
 laughing. 
 
 " Hush, for God's sake, hush ! " cried Madame Nccker, in 
 dismay. " It is dreadful for me to hear such words from the 
 lips of my daughter." 
 
 " My father would laugh with me at such jests," replied Ger- 
 maine, gently. " Forgive me if I vexed you. It is impossible 
 for me to be such as you want me to be." 
 
 Madame Necker made no reply to this remark. She had 
 leaned back in the corner of the carriage and closed her eyes ; 
 her restless neighbor, therefore, was confined to her own 
 thoughts until they reached St. Ouen.
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A VISIT TO MARMONTEL. 
 
 M. NECKER'S villa was close to St. Brice, which could be 
 easily reached on foot from St. Ouen. Since Marmontel 
 and his young wife had taken up their abode there, Germaine 
 often wended her way thither, greatly rejoicing in the diver- 
 sion which these visits afforded to her, and of which she had 
 so much need. 
 
 Madame Marmontel had chosen her husband from inclina- 
 tion, but without knowing much about him. During a visit 
 which she and her mother had paid to Paris, M'lle de Mon- 
 tigny had seen the poet at the house of her uncle, the Abbe 
 Morellet, and her relatives had immediately proposed a match 
 between them. 
 
 Already over fifty years of age, somewhat corpulent, and by 
 no means prepossessing, Marmontel had little to offer to the 
 young girl beyond his illustrious name, which, coupled with 
 the prospect of a brilliant life in Paris, had no doubt cap- 
 tivated her youthful imagination. And so she had become his 
 wife. 
 
 The feeble health of their child had now induced her to re- 
 move to the country, and in her loneliness she was always
 
 136 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 exceedingly glad to be visited by her young neighbor, who 
 created a new life around her from the rich cornucopia of her 
 gifted mind. Marmontel, too, was fond of her. Little as Mar- 
 montel liked her father perhaps, only because that grave and 
 practical man looked upon the tasks of the poet as child's play, 
 and smiled condescendingly upon them a condescension 
 against which Marmontel's proud spirit rebelled he highly 
 esteemed Necker's wife. Madame Necker always treated the 
 guests of her house with great consideration, and, above all, 
 she took pains not to wound their little vanity, a point which 
 oftener than is commonly believed puts an end to both friend- 
 ships and enmities. 
 
 Germaine had grown up under his eyes. He loved her as a 
 daughter, and gladly forgave her any imprudence, even when 
 she offended him personally. They were on the most intimate 
 terms, and it was because of the jests which she was at liberty 
 to permit herself with him that she liked so much to be in his 
 company, and greatly preferred him to her friends Thomas and 
 Raynai. 
 
 It was a bright, sunny day when Germaine, accompanied by 
 a footman, set out for St. Brice. The birds sang so merrily, 
 the fields were so green, the sky was so blue, all nature laughed 
 at her so benignantly that she was soon in the best of spirits, 
 and had to laugh. with her surroundings. 
 
 Madame Marmontel sat at the door of her little villa, hold- 
 ing her youngest child on her knees, while another played in 
 the grass at her feet. She embraced Germaine tenderly, and 
 offered her a chair by her side ; but M'lle Necker, throwing down 
 her bonnet and shawl, seated herself with the child in the grass, 
 and laughed and jested with the little creature as if she herself 
 were still a child. 
 
 "Dear Germaine," said Madame Marmontel, "you overheat
 
 A VISIT TO MARMONTEL. 137 
 
 yourself; you are already crimson. Come, leave the little 
 boy and rest." 
 
 " Do not disturb me. I must give the reins to my spirit," 
 she replied, laughing. " You do not know how the quiet life 
 at our house weighs me down. I need exercise and excitement. 
 I must see new and stirring scenes, in order to feel well. All 
 around me is now mute and still. As long as my father gov- 
 erned France, I had so much to hope, fear, and expect ; every 
 new morning could bring fresh successes, fresh crises, and I 
 passed many a sleepless night in expectation of the morning 
 and of the newspapers. Now they do not contain anything 
 that I care to read. Everything seems to be dead." 
 
 " But you do not lead a very lonely life ; there are constantly 
 guests at your house, and your father's friends visit you almost 
 every day." 
 
 " So they do. But they have grown old much too old for 
 me. I have need of a fresh, merry life, and that cannot be 
 found at our house. Those who visit us stand already with one 
 foot in the grave." 
 
 " You are jesting ! " exclaimed Madame Marmontel, laughing. 
 
 " I am jesting in dead earnest," cried Germaine, springing to 
 her feet, and striding up and down the small lawn. " I am 
 jesting like a man who feels the rope already at his throat, and 
 does not care to put his. head into the noose. My jests are 
 bitter, bitter earnest. Just look at the nice young gentlemen, 
 my dear Adele, by whom lam surrounded. There is my dear 
 Grimm, who, for the rest, Is not grim-looking at all ; he is a 
 handsome young sexagenarian, and always has his head full of 
 the reports by which he wants to entertain his august friends 
 at the north pole. I cannot jest with him, for a courtier Is not 
 at liberty to laugh ; it would injure his rouge. Then there is 
 d'Alembert, poor faithful soul ! who still sheds tears for his
 
 138 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 late lamented M'lle Espinasse; with him I can only weep, for 
 he longs to follow her into the grave, into the still, cool 
 grave. Diderot has suffered for a long time past from an in- 
 curable disease. Our faithful Thomas is by far too good for 
 this earth ; he writes now-a-days only funeral orations ; he 
 judges only the dead ; he sits, grave, sti,ff, and taciturn, like a god 
 of Hades, before my mother, and says every now and then, 
 ' Virtue is beautiful, for you are its priestess.' " d 
 
 " Germaine, Germaiue!" exclaimed Madame Marmontel, re- 
 proachfully, yet laughing merrily at the exuberant humor of 
 the young girL 
 
 " Then there is Raynal," continued Germaine, without allow- 
 ing herself to be disturbed by the exhortation. " He is a new 
 Messiah, a preacher in the wilderness, but he only wants to 
 subvert everything, and not rebuild anything. What is bad, is 
 bad ; and when he is asked how a change for the better is to be 
 brought about, he shrugs his shoulders. Now, I am utterly 
 averse to such teachings. I want to enjoy life and be happy. 
 I want to hope, wish, and share the aspirations of humanity, 
 which only youth can do; for it has a future ; it will see the 
 seeds ripening into fruit, and so it scatters them broadcast and 
 with joyful courage." 
 
 " You must marry," exclaimed Madame Marmontel. " Look 
 at my children ; they are the right kind of seeds. Here I find 
 hope, a future, and all that you long for." She held her babe 
 up to her. 
 
 Germaine patted the child's cheeks, and then, glancing 
 archly at the mother, said, " You wish to convert me to a faith 
 which is as old as the world; but it will not stand the test in 
 this respect. I wish to exist first for myself, and then only for 
 others. Was I not also a child ? And now that I am growii 
 up, the world shall first pay me what it owes me ; I want tc
 
 A VISIT TO MAKMONTEL. jgg 
 
 help to raise the wings of our times that they may carry m 
 along in their flight; T want to join in their aspirations, and 
 tiave my name mentioned whenever they call for deeds Our 
 3 to share the joys and sorrows of humanity. To shirk 
 slot is to impoverish one's self, and narrow one's heart 
 instead of expandingit. All honorto theduties of maternity 
 I want to perform, in the first place, the duties of human-' 
 ity, and not until then those of maternity." 
 
 " So excited, my young friend ; exclaimed at this moment a 
 voice behind her, and Marmontel, holding out his hand to her 
 stepped forward. His round face glistened, owing to the heat' 
 day ; his wig was somewhat displaced, and his whole fig- 
 ure presented an exceedingly ludicrous appearance. QuickC 
 passing from earnest to jest, Germaine stooped, picked up her 
 iet, put it on the poet's head, and burst into loud lau-hter 
 Harmontel entered into the jest, and made a graceful obeisance* 
 it what do I see?" cried Germaine, suddenly. "These 
 3S on your waistcoat, each of which is as large as a green 
 roff, are splendid! Let me look at them closely! In truth 
 "Metamorphosis!" What, you dare to exhibit them 
 icly during the reign of so virtuous a King as Louis the 
 Sixteenth, while Rome banished the poet from its walls ? Law 
 and justice, are you then empty words ! And you, my most 
 istere poet, why did you choose these voluptuous pictures 
 others wear the Roman Emperors on their buttons and 
 cause their children to count political history on their fibers 
 by looking at the bright metal. As you insisted on adoptin- 
 t fashion, I should in your place have tried to combine some 
 secret little pedagogical object with it." 
 " A poet is not at liberty to be so practical," exclaimed Mar- 
 ntel, laughing. We must know how to lose our heads 
 every day ! How should they, then, at last sit so firtaly on our
 
 140 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 bodies ? But now pray inform me of the advantage which you 
 derive from the Babylonian tower on your head, beside its 
 height?" 
 
 " The advantage of not being overlooked so easily," she said, 
 laughing. 
 
 " Very good," exclaimed Marmontel. " You always are quick 
 at repartee. Even though I should now place myself between 
 you and the sun, you would not be totally eclipsed." 
 
 " Because I would then borrow fresh light from you," she 
 said, archly. 
 
 "Hush, hush! No personalities; otherwise my little wife 
 will be jealous." 
 
 " Never fear. Holding the future, as she does on her knees, 
 she can do without the past." 
 
 " That was a malicious remark, Germaine," exclaimed the 
 young wife, threatening her with her finger. 
 
 At this moment the conversation was interrupted by the ap- 
 pearance of a young man, who fastened his horse to the garden- 
 gate, and then walked down the short path toward them with a 
 quick step and proud air. All of them fixed their eyes upon him. 
 
 Marmontel was too near-sighted to recognize the new comer 
 until he was quite close to them ; but he then hastened toward 
 the stranger with the liveliest joy, and replied as follows to 
 his polite greeting : 
 
 " What, M. de Narbonne, you here at my humble home ? 
 May I inquire to what I am indebted for the pleasure of seeing 
 you in this rural solitude ? 
 
 "I had unfortunately to disturb the tranquillity of your 
 Tusculum on purpose," replied M. de Narbonne, bowing to the 
 ladies, and then casting at Marmontel a glance which contained 
 the mute request to introduce him to the ladies. 
 
 "My wife," said Marmontel, "and our neighbor, M'lle
 
 A VISIT TO MARMONTEL. 141 
 
 Necker, who has honored us with her visit. M. de Narbounc," 
 he then added, " Cavalier of Honor to the Princess Adelaide 
 and Colonel of the Piedmont Regiment. Pray take a seat." 
 
 Upon hearing the name Necker, the young man had cast at 
 Germaine an inquiring glance, which had not escaped her. 
 She was likewise unable to conceal her surprise at so unex- 
 pectedly meeting here this young nobleman, who was praised 
 everywhere in Paris on account of his prepossessing appear- 
 ance, his ability, knowledge, and winning manners. She 
 fixed her dark radiant eyes searchingly upon him ; but when 
 their glances met, she dropped her eyes, and a deep blush 
 mantled her cheeks. 
 
 " Marshal de Duras," began M. de Narbonne again, " has sent 
 me to you, M. Marmontel, in order to request you to favor him 
 with a new production of your dramatic muse. He desires to 
 have it performed at Fontainebleau during the visit of the Grand- 
 Duke of Russia. Besides, he would like to surprise our Queen 
 with a new opera of whose origin she would be ignorant ; 
 und if it is to afford pleasure to her, it must have been written 
 by you. May I be the bearer of a reply in the affirmative ? " 
 
 "It will, of course, afford me particular pleasure to comply 
 with the Marshal's request; however, I cannot tell yet when 
 it will be possible for me to do so," said Marmontel, bowing 
 politely. " I am still at work upon a new opera jointly with Pic- 
 cini, who, for this reason, stays with me here at St. Brice; as 
 soon as we have finished our work, I shall lay it before the Mar- 
 shal. We hope it will be successful ; but we may be mistaken. 
 Authors often overrate their works." 
 
 " You never can do so," replied Narboune, with the exqui- 
 site politeness peculiar to that period. " May I inquire what 
 title the opera will bear ? " 
 
 " ' Dido ' will be the title."
 
 112 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 " A very promising title. And how soon might the Marshal 
 look for a communication from you regarding the completion 
 of the work?" 
 
 " Pray tell him that I shall think of it, and soon inform him 
 of everything, in a personal interview. Assure him, further- 
 more, of my devotedness, and of the pleasure which it affords 
 me to serve him." 
 
 " So my mission has not been unsuccessful, and I may be 
 glad that it remains for me to convey so favorable a reply to 
 the Marshal," replied M. de Narbonne, politely. " My good 
 star seems to have guided me hither ; for the desire which I 
 have entertained for a long time past, to be introduced to the 
 family of M. Necker, has now, at least in part, been fulfilled." 
 Permit me, Mademoiselle, to tell you that I revere and ad- 
 mire your eminent father, and shall be proud to be allowed to 
 present my respects to him personally." 
 
 As he said so, Germaine raised her dark eyes again, while a 
 sunbeam of joy illuminated her face. 
 
 " You gladden my heart by honoring my father," she re- 
 plied. " Every word of praise which you bestow on him, en- 
 ters my heart." 
 
 " In that case I am afraid you will find me doubly eloquent," 
 replied M. de Narbonne, with a winning smile ; " for although 
 I have never before been so happy as to meet with the daugh- 
 ter of the illustrious Necker, I have heard a great deal about her 
 for a long time past." 
 
 Germaine looked in surprise at the young man. The grace- 
 ful ease of his replies, coupled with the polished manners 
 which constant intercourse with the best society imparts to us, 
 was very different from the stiff and pedantic style reigning at 
 the house of her parents. It made a very agreeable impression 
 upon her, and she longed to join in the same tone.
 
 A VISIT TO MAKMONTEL. 143 
 
 " We have a common acquaintance who has often mentioned 
 your name to me," she said. 
 
 " You refer to Condorcet, the enthusiastic lover of liberty ? 
 He must have been chary of my praise ; for he blamed me for 
 not going to America when the flower of our nobility emigrated 
 thither in order to fight for a cause which did not concern us 
 much." 
 
 "If the cause did not concern us much, the idea did," inter- 
 posed Marmontel. 
 
 " For this idea I could kindle my enthusiasm just as well in 
 France, for there reigns so much republicanism in our midst that 
 . we need not look for it elsewhere. * Our country needs our 
 best strength in order to rise from her decline. What your 
 father has done for us in this respect, M'lle Necker, is by far more 
 praiseworthy than all the fighting in the other hemisphere, by 
 which Lafayette, Segur, and Montmorency wish to dazzle us 
 without being useful to us." 
 
 " I do not know, M. de ISTarbonne, if I can subscribe to this 
 opinion," said Gennaine, while her eyes, following the flight of 
 her ideas, forgot her surroundings and glowed enthusiastically. 
 " History knows no instance of the subjects of an absolute 
 monarch being permitted to participate in a straggle for liberty, 
 and of being regarded at home as heroes that cannot be admired 
 too ardently. If we did not blindly rush forward to the future, 
 these heroes would have been beheaded as traitors to a princi- 
 ple constituting the basis of monarchial States. But we do not 
 see the abyss on whose verge we are walking. As the inhabi- 
 tants of Troy shut their ears to Laocoon's words, so no pre- 
 monitory symptoms are heeded here, and we hope and wish 
 on, and play with the danger, until, growing far beyond 
 our strength, it will swallow up everything that stands in 
 * Narbonne's own .vords.
 
 144 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 its way. We ourselves call the wrath of heaven do.vn on our 
 heads." 
 
 " Then we are agreed," replied Narbonne, who, while she 
 was speaking, did not avert his eyes from her beaming face. 
 " When I say there is republicanism enough in France, I refer 
 to views such as you and I entertain, M'lle Necker ; an ardent 
 longing for reforms, for institutions which empower the people 
 to participate in the government of the country, and tie the hand 
 of the head of the State, when it whimsically tries to cut the 
 thread of the life of the country, and wants to decide thought- 
 lessly upon the fate of millions. To strive for the attainment 
 of this object, one need not fight in America in order to con- 
 quer for others those rights which we should first gain for our- 
 selves. Is not that your opinion, too? " 
 
 He looked at her inquiringly. Instead of a reply, tears 
 slowly rolled down her cheeks. The "you" and " I" of his 
 words had produced a wonderful effect upon her. She did 
 not feel that sympathy for the aspirations of the people for 
 more liberal institutions, which he believed to find in her ; her 
 views on this subject had been quickened by the study of 
 history and of Montesquieu's " Esprit des Loi ;" lut they still 
 slumbered in her mind without her having found an aim in 
 regard to which she might have tried to carry them into effect. 
 His words had, all of a sudden, pointed out to her such an aim. 
 She was not to indulge in dreams of liberty for nations which 
 she knew only by name, but to help to achieve this liberty for 
 the soil on which she lived, was her vocation. 
 
 The steadfast gaze which he now fixed on her confused 
 her. 
 
 " Your words have deeply moved me, M. de Narbonne," she 
 said, timidly. " Pardon me for withholding my answer from 
 you for a moment. It could not but surprise me to hear that
 
 A VISIT TO MARMOXTEL. 145 
 
 a young man of your rank and position tried to find such a 
 liarmouy between bis own political opinions and mine. It 
 makes us so very happy to hear others utter what we have 
 scarcely yet ventured to confess to ourselves," 
 
 " And yet, such is the usual course in affairs of the heart," 
 said Narbonuc, with a significant glance ; " why should it not, 
 then, be thus with political views ? " 
 
 Germaine became nervous and uneasy. She rose aud 
 quickly walked up and down the small garden ^ and she then 
 resumed her seat M. de Narbonne had followed her with his 
 eyes. 
 
 " Will you intercede in my behalf with your esteemed 
 father, when I beg leave oif him to be introduced to him ? " he 
 said to her. 
 
 " That will be needless, M, de Narbonne-, your name recom- 
 mends you sufficiently." 
 
 " Possibly you may meet M, Necker here to-day, for he 
 usually comes here for his daughter," interposed Marmontel. 
 
 " You remind me in time that I ought to go home," ex- 
 claimed Germaine, My father promised to meet me half-way, 
 and told me to say to you, dear M, Marmontel, that it would 
 be very wholesome for you to accompany me that far, and bid 
 him good-evening. But, inasmuch as you have a guest, I will 
 at once relieve you of this obligation, but impose on you tlie 
 duty of indemnifying my father in the course of to-morrow." 
 
 " The guest will not allow himself to be used as a pretext 
 for depriving M, Marmontel of the agreeable duty of accom- 
 panying M'lle Necker ; and if you will permit, he will himself 
 be so happy as to perform this part of liis route in your com- 
 pany," said Narbonne. 
 
 " It is so easy to consent, when one gains either way," mer- 
 rily said Germaine, rising from her seat 
 7
 
 146 MADAME DE STAEI,. 
 
 They then set out. 
 
 M. tie Narbonne led his horse by the bridle, and walked by 
 Germain e's side. The conversation was at first monosyllabic, 
 and referred to indifferent topics ; gradually, however, Ger- 
 maiue's bashfulness wore off, 'as she yielded to the current of 
 her own ideas. 
 
 The sun, resembling a vast ball of fire, stood in the western 
 sky ; dense clouds gathered before it, and emitted, every now 
 and then, flashes of lightning; from the meadows arose humid 
 vapors, and dissolved before the scudding clouds like fugitive 
 shadows ; the flowers sent forth their last perfumes, and closed 
 their cups; nature breathed the tranquillity attendant upon 
 the parting of daylight. 
 
 The dark eyes of the young girl beamed more gently as she 
 gazed upon the peaceful scene around her. Powerful as were 
 her emotions, the beauty of this tepid summer evening made 
 a deep impression, while by her side walked a young man 
 who seemed to her the incarnate ideal of all the dreams of 
 her youth. Her eyes filled with tears ; and yet she felt like 
 laughing. She was unable to compose her mind, and did not 
 understand herself amidst this chaos of conflicting emotions. 
 
 " So thoughtful ? " asked M. de Narbonne, after a pause. 
 
 " I am gazing upon nature in its deceptive peace," she re- 
 plied, as if absently. "Look at that cloud yonder; lightning 
 rests in it as passion slumbers in the human soul. There is 
 but an electric spark needed, but a word touching the right 
 point, and our emotions exceed their limits, our will is unable 
 to curb them any longer." 
 
 " I wish I could utter this word ! " exclaimed Narbonne 
 But she took no notice of this remark, and, folding her hands 
 on her breast, as if in prayer, she added : 
 
 " Creator of this beautiful nature, let your hand rest on me
 
 A VISIT TO MARMO:N T TEL. 147 
 
 and protect me, for I ain unable to do so myself. When hap- 
 piness knocks at my door, I shall open it ; for all I long for is 
 happiness ; but how it will come to me I do not know, and I 
 am almost afraid of its appearance. It stands menacingly be- 
 fore nay eyes like the cloud yonder with its hidden thunder- 
 storm. Ah, I know it will crush me ; and never, never will 
 it be vouchsafed to me to walk as a light-hearted, merry child 
 of the moment on earth. There is too much earnest in my soul, 
 and, moreover, I always do what I regret a moment afterward." 
 
 She had uttered the last words in so low a tone that her 
 companion had not understood them. 
 
 " You are speaking to the clouds of heaven," said M. de Nar- 
 bonne, jocularly, " which are unable to reply to you, and mean- 
 while forget a son of earth who sighs for words from your lips." 
 
 " Pardon me," replied Germaine, perceiving her absence of 
 mind; "I have grown up alone; I had no playmates; I am 
 still so much alone that I could not but accustom myself to ut- 
 tering my thoughts to myself, and listening to the sound of my 
 own words. My mind is exceedingly active, and I long to 
 communicate my thoughts to others." 
 
 " One should gain thereby if you would be kind enough to 
 prefer human ears to the elements." 
 
 " You are sarcastic, M. de Narbonne, and, what is worse, I 
 feel that I deserve your sarcasm." 
 
 " In this manner one will be able, without committing any 
 indiscretion, to read in the inmost recesses of your heart," re- 
 plied the young man, smiling. 
 
 " Unfortunately nothing will be easier than that," said Ger- 
 maine, suddenly assuming a jocose tone, " for I am almost un- 
 able to keep any secrets of mine. It is my nature to divulgo 
 everything." * 
 
 * " C'est ma nature ainsi," a stereotyped phrase of Madame de Stael.
 
 148 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 "But the little god forbids it; when he speaks, you will 
 have to keep silence." 
 
 " I shall not submit to any such compulsion ; I am too ar- 
 dent a lover of liberty for that," she said, laughing. 
 
 " Ah, then, you misunderstand political liberty, as most 
 people do. A free constitution necessitates the greatest self- 
 control on the part of the individual. When one makes one's 
 own laws, one is certainly not at liberty to break them. He 
 who does not know how to obey, and wants to disobey the 
 laws, is not fit for a liberal constitution." 
 
 "So I am proscribed from the very first, for 1 am let me 
 confess I am utterly averse to such obedience." 
 
 " There will be a master who will teach you obedience, or 
 do you know him already ? " 
 
 " Poesy has made me acquainted with him," said Germaine, 
 jestingly. " "When I walk on the summits of life in pursuit of 
 the beautiful and good, I divine the highest bliss, and call it 
 love." 
 
 " And he who is to be its embodiment to you, has not yet ap- 
 peared before your eyes? " asked M. de Narbonne, gazing into 
 her eyes. 
 
 Germaine was about to answer this question, when M. 
 Necker emerged from a by-path, and greeted the party with a 
 joyous " Ah I" His daughter immediately took his arm, and, 
 after Marmontel had exchanged a few words with him, she 
 presented M. de Narbonne to him. There was nothing very 
 polished or winning in Necker's manner, and toward young 
 noblemen whose arrogance he knew, and whose condescending 
 bearing offended him, he usually assumed an air of haughti- 
 ness which made him ridiculous. The contrast between his 
 conduct and that of the courtly cavalier became then only the 
 more striking. To-day, too, he assumed, as soon as he heard
 
 A VISIT TO MAKMONTEL. 149 
 
 Narbonne's name, an air which was to inform the nobleman 
 that he stood before a man to whom he must bow. But this 
 did not deter M. de Narbonne. Coudorcet had familiarized 
 him sufficiently with Necker's peculiarities, and his polished 
 manners enabled him to soften the stiffness of the celebrated 
 financier by his easy and winning grace. He made the most 
 favorable impression upon Necker, who, at parting, expressed 
 the wish to see him at his house at his earliest convenience. 
 
 While Germaine was now walking by her father's side in 
 the constantly growing darkness, she felt as if her feet no lon- 
 ger touched the ground : so hopeful and light was her heart, 
 so full of strange expectations was her head. 
 
 " How beautiful this day was ! " she exclaimed, and related 
 to her father what she had heard during her visit to Mannon- 
 tel's house. Necker listened to her thoughtfully. The remarks 
 of M. de Narbonne found an echo in his breast, and he desired 
 to converse on this subject with the young nobleman, inasmuch 
 as he occupied a stand-point from which many questions might 
 be viewed in an entirely new light. 
 
 Germaine, however, did not allow him to dwell on this 
 grave subject ; she managed to turn the conversation toward 
 less serious matters, and, by dint of a thousand jests and bright 
 sallies, to make her father laugh merrily. Her satisfaction at 
 his mirth added to her vivacity, and the result was that both 
 of them tried to surpass one another in telling witty anecdotes. 
 
 They performed the short distance much sooner than they 
 desired, and reached the villa where Madame Necker awaited 
 them. Supper was ready, they sat down to it, and Madame 
 Necker asked in a tone of ill-concealed vexation, how Germaine 
 came to be so excited ? 
 
 " I have passed a very happy afternoon," replied the young 
 girl ; but she then dropped her knife and fork and burst into
 
 150 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 tears. The sudden return of her thoughts to M. de Narbonne 
 caused this painful emotion ; she told herself that he was 
 already far away at this moment, had reached Paris, called 
 upon some of his friends, and no longer remembered his meet- 
 ing with her who would have given everything to see him 
 again. All at once she felt so lonely, so deserted. Her mother 
 looked at her in surprise. This glance added to Germaine's 
 confusion. For the first time in her life she could not utter 
 what passed in her heart, and her frank and open nature suf- 
 fered from this concealment which the opinion of others, and 
 not her own wishes, forced upon her. In an agony of grief 
 and perplexity, she jumped up and hastened out of the room. 
 
 Madame Necker sighed. " How silly she is ! " she ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 " Never mind," said her husband, soothingly. " She has 
 reached an age when she herself does not know what she 
 wants, and when there awaken in her heart feelings which she 
 is unable to interpret. Leave her alone. She is like all other 
 girls." 
 
 " I never acted thus," said Madame Necker. 
 
 " Because nature had given you the character of a saint," re- 
 plied her husband. 
 
 This reply pacified her.
 
 CHAPTER H. 
 
 MARRIAGES DE CONTENANCE. 
 
 M'LLE NECKER stood on the balcony of her house and peered 
 into the distance. Her elegant toilet indicated that she await- 
 ed visitors, and her face plainly expressed the impatience with 
 which she looked forward to their arrival. 
 
 A dense cloud of dust on the road leading to Paris now in- 
 dicated the approach of a carriage. At this discovery she was 
 about to turn quickly and hasten back to the salon, when the 
 sound of a man's step fell on her ears ; she stood still in order 
 to listen, but at the same moment M. de If arbonne came already 
 to meet her. 
 
 "What?" she exclaimed, in surprise. "Have you wings? 
 I did not see anybody arrive, and yet you are here ? That 
 looks like a miracle." 
 
 " Which I gladly perform in order to hasten to you," he re- 
 plied, bowing politely. 
 
 " The compliment loses its value when I call to mind how 
 long it is since we met last, M. de Narb'onne." 
 
 " The days when I was not allowed to hasten to St. Ouen 
 eeem to me as many years, M'lle Necker." 
 
 " You were not allowed to come here because you did not 
 want to do so ? " she replied, in a slightly reproachful tone. 
 
 "Because I could not do so, you should say, M'lle Necker." 
 
 " And what was it that detained you in your beautiful Paris ? 
 if you do not consider this question impertinent"
 
 152 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 " The festivities in -which I had to participate. Lafayette, 
 you are aware, has returned ; he was received at court simul- 
 taneously with the Grand-Duke of Russia, the most singular 
 juxtaposition that can be imagined. The representative of 
 absolute despotism by the side of the champion of absolute 
 liberty ! All the ladies were in ecstacies about him, and envied 
 his wife the privilege of possessing him. She found his plain 
 brown dress and his unpowdered blonde hair perfectly charm- 
 ing, and looked rather contemptuously upon the gold-embroi- 
 dered coats, the powdered wigs, the swords, shoes, and lace- 
 cuffs. All of them wished to be introduced to him, and asked 
 him about the toilets of the American ladies, which they, no 
 doubt, intended to imitate in order to participate also in the 
 glory which our soldiers have obtained in that war. Even my 
 pious mistress, Madame Adelaide, is an ardent admirer of the 
 heroic Lafayette." 
 
 " How I long to see him ! " exclaimed Germaine. " How 
 gladly I should have attended those festivities ! Ah, I have to 
 undergo so many privations here." 
 
 " He will no doubt call on M. Necker," replied Narbonne ; 
 " for what name could be more agreeable to Lafayette's ears 
 than that of your distinguished father?" 
 
 "If we only lived again in Paris!" she exclaimed. "But 
 now tell me quickly a little about the festivities. What toilets 
 did the ladies wear? How did the queen look ?" 
 
 " Very beautiful, of course, * said M. de Narbonne, laughing ; 
 " still I am unable to answer this question positively. I, too, 
 was this time so wanting in gnllantry as to have eyes only for 
 the hero whose glory now fills all Paris." 
 
 " And yet you did not wish to share this glory ? " asked Ger- 
 maine. 
 
 " Because I have plenty of opportunities here to assist in
 
 MARRIAGES DE CONVEYANCE. 153 
 
 establishing a free constitution, and I am better able to work 
 for it with my head than fight for it with my sword." 
 
 " So you still attend those lengthy lectures of M. Koch, iu 
 spite of all festivities." 
 
 " I never fail to do so, and am, besides, occupied in other 
 useful studies. I read the German poets and philosophers. 
 Do you not wish to learn that language, that we may read these 
 authors together?" 
 
 " If it is worth while to do so." 
 
 "Let me assure you that it is. Charles the Fifth used 
 to say that a man had as many souls as he spoke languages, 
 and I know what he meant. With a new tongue we acquire 
 also new views of life, and add to our mental deyeloprnent." 
 
 " Will you send me a teacher ? " 
 
 " With great pleasure." 
 
 There was a pause. Germaine looked absently before her, 
 while the young man fixed his eyes on her, searchingly. 
 
 At this moment a carriage drove into the court-yard. 
 
 " It is the Grand-Duke ! " exclaimed Germaine. " I forgot 
 to tell you that he had caused himself to be announced. Come 
 to the salon that we may be present at his reception." 
 
 " I hoped to see you alone," replied M. de Narbonne. " We 
 see plenty of celebrities in Paris, and need not come to St. 
 Ouen for that purpose. Fate is not propitious to me." He left 
 her in evident vexation. 
 
 Germaine's eyes filled with tears.. He knew that his depar- 
 ture pained her, and yet he did not remain. Should he intend 
 to torment her ? 
 
 At this moment a servant entered the room in order to call 
 her down stairs. 
 
 Since Louis the Sixteenth had dismissed Necker, several 
 European princes had requested the distinguished financier to 
 7*
 
 154 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 enter their service ; and among them was also the Empress 
 Catherine. It was in compliance with her wishes that the 
 Grand-Duke visited him to-day, and repeated to him verbally 
 how glad the Empress would be if he should make up his 
 mind to devote his talents to Russia. 
 
 Necker received his august visitor in his plain brown dress, 
 and with the stiff bearing which was intended to impart 
 dignity to him, and listened gravely to the encomiums which 
 the Grand-Duke lavished on him ; but his wife was deeply 
 moved by the homage which a great princess paid to her hus- 
 band, whom she had never seen ; she turned pale, and finally 
 fainted away.* Germaine, who stood modestly by her mother's 
 side, supported her and led her out of the room. 
 
 Necker excused the accident, which he attributed to the se- 
 vere trials to which his position had subjected the delicate 
 health of his wife. As usual, he bestowed upon her the warm- 
 est praise, a weakness from which he was unable to abstain, 
 despite the sneers of the public. 
 
 Germaine meanwhile returned to her father, and stated that 
 her mother was better ; and the august visitor left soon after, 
 with the promise that he would speedily repeat his visit. 
 
 When Necker was alone with his daughter, he paced the 
 room thoughtfully. " It is sad," he exclaimed, " that we are 
 appreciated so much better abroad than in the country where 
 we have settled. France has no need of me. and yet I cannot 
 turn my back on France." 
 
 " You are a celebrated man ; all the world admires you. I 
 should like to be honored as you are." 
 
 She leaned her head on her hand, and gazed sadly into the 
 garden. 
 
 " It is made easy to you ; you are my daughter," said Necker, 
 * " Memoirs of Madame d'Oberkirch."
 
 MARRIAGES DE CONVEYANCE. 155 
 
 fixing his keen eyes on her, searchingly. " Where you appear, 
 you are treated with marked consideration because you bear 
 my name." 
 
 She sighed. " We lead a very lonely life," she said. 
 
 " You long for more diversions ? My circumstances, my 
 poor child, do not now permit me to afford them to you ; pru- 
 dence requires me to live in retirement, and the feeble health 
 of your mother does not allow her to take you into society ; but 
 patience, Germaine, patience ! Fate may fulfill your wishes in 
 another way." 
 
 Germaine understood what her father meant. She made no 
 reply, but indulged in a reverie, in which M. de Narbonne 
 played a leading part. To step by his side into the world, to 
 bear a name which, even at court, was one of the best, to walk 
 through life with this fine-looking, talented, and admired young 
 man, seemed to her the most enviable happiness, which a word 
 from him might bestow upon her. 
 
 Since she had got acquainted with him at Marmontel's house, 
 he visited the villa of her parents almost daily, and was on very 
 friendly terms with her father. She believed she read in his 
 eyes that he was attached to her, but he had never yet uttered 
 the word love in his tete-a-tetes with her. Oftentimes, when 
 she expected that it would escape his lips, he sighed, rose and 
 left her suddenly. 
 
 M. de Narbonne was ambitious ; he had conceived bold 
 plans in regard to his future ; his proud spirit longed for ap- 
 preciation, and he wished to become the most welcome guest 
 in the most brilliant circles of the capital. Wealth alone 
 would not enable him to attain his object. The old nobility 
 looked rather disdainfully upon the Necker family, and ridi- 
 culed it on every occasion. And ridicule is an adversary which 
 no one is able to withstand.
 
 156 MADAME DE STAEL, 
 
 Gerinaine had no idea of it. She knew only that she was 
 the daughter of the illustrious Necker, to whom emperors and 
 kings paid homage ; she was rich, and longed for splendor 
 and fame. 
 
 Our desires do not count the obstacles besetting our path. 
 
 Her hours passed away slowly and wearily until there 
 dawned a new day that might lead the longed-for visitor to 
 St. Oaen. Gerinaine sat again on the balcony, and was gazing 
 upon the road; but the young nobleman did not make his 
 appearance. 
 
 The visits of M. de Narbonne had become fewer and fewer. 
 This seemed to bode no good to her ardent hopes. When he 
 came back, Germaine met him in confusion, and dropped her 
 eyes as if conscious of guilt. She did not want to tell him how 
 intensely she had longed for him, as long as he had stayed 
 away without sufficient reason ; and, in restraining the emo- 
 tions to which his appearance gave rise in her heart, she 
 looked upon herself as insincere, and could not find words 
 wherewith to address him. 
 
 M. de Narbonne was absent, and did not stay long. Gor- 
 maine was scarcely able to master her feelings while he re- 
 mained with her ; but when she heard the sound of the hoofs 
 of his horse in the court-yard below, she burst into tears and 
 hastened to her room, in order to weep alone over her disap- 
 pointed hopes. 
 
 A business affair led him again more frequently to St. Ouen 
 during the following week. He conferred with M. Necker as 
 to the establishment of a new organ that was to advocate the 
 financial views of the fallen statesman; hence, the cause of 
 his coming was by no means gratifying to his daughter, but 
 for that matter she greatly rejoiced over his visits. One eve- 
 ning he remained longer than usual. Marmontd and his wife
 
 MARRIAGES DE CONVEYANCE. 157 
 
 had also arrived; Thomas, who was in feeble health, and ap- 
 peared more rarely than, formerly, had come quite unex- 
 pectedly ; and some other guests from Paris had surprised the 
 family with their visit at a late hour. Germaine was exceed- 
 ingly merry. Her large eyes were radiant, while she took the 
 liveliest part in the conversation. She sang a few songs h? 
 her fine sonorous voice, and then recited some passages from 
 the works of the best poets. The applause lavished upon her 
 gladdened her the more as it was bestowed upon her in the 
 presence of the man whom she longed most to please by her 
 talents. 
 
 The conversation then turned, as usual, to the affairs of the 
 New World ; and, in the first place, the question was asked 
 what shape marriage would assume in a free state where all 
 classes were equal, and where it would, therefore, be sub- 
 ject to other conditions than in the Old World. 
 
 While this question was discussed, Narbonne remarked that 
 the French soldiers had found the ladies in the Colonies very 
 beautiful. 
 
 " In that case," replied Marmontel, " I wonder why our he- 
 roes did not lose their hearts there." 
 
 " Perhaps they did," replied Narbonne, laughing. " But 
 they will not make any confessions to us on that subject." 
 
 " I should think, if one of them had really fallen in love 
 there, he would have probably married a beautiful Puritan girl 
 and sent her home," remarked Madame Marmontel. 
 
 " The ladies in the Colonies are educated too austerely to 
 play with their faith," said M. Thomas, gravely. 
 
 " You always forget, my learned friend," said Marmontel, 
 laughing, "that the little god does not ascertain one's religion 
 before he shoots his arrows. So the cause must be sought in 
 another direction."
 
 158 MADAME BE STAEL. 
 
 " I think it is quite obvious," said Narbonno. " Most of our 
 young heroes belong to the first families of France, and have 
 been brought up in the belief that marriage is a family obli- 
 gation which they have to discharge in the face of past and 
 coming generations. However frivolous they may be in other 
 respects, in this matter they will always act with due delibera- 
 tion, and lend a willing ear to the voice of prudence, which 
 tells them that a union at variance with conventional etiquette 
 is a blunder which makes them ridiculous in the eyes of ihe 
 world. He who is ambitious enough to go to the New World 
 in search of glory, will not destroy his achievements by intro- 
 ducing a nameless wife into the circle of our society, wlieie she 
 would never be treated as an equal and with due respect. No 
 honorable man will wish to subject a wife who bears his name 
 to such painful slights." 
 
 Gerinaine had listened attentively to Narbonne's words. 
 "While he was speaking, she turned now red, now pale ; and 
 when he paused, she sank senseless into her chair. M. Necker 
 hastened to her immediately in order to restore her to con- 
 sciousness. Her forehead was bathed with cold water, and she 
 was not long in opening her eyes again. But she called to 
 mind immediately what had wounded her heart so deeply, and 
 her features indicated the intense grief which convulsively 
 shook her whole frame. She begged leave to withdraw for a 
 few moments; a walk through the garden would do her good. 
 
 As soon as she had left the room, M. de Narbonne set out 
 for Paris ; the little circle moved closer together, and the dis- 
 turbance which had interrupted the conversation for a few 
 minutes was speedily forgotten. 
 
 When Germaine shortly after re-entered the room with a 
 soft step, and rejoined the circle, no one thought any longer of 
 what had occurred.
 
 MARRIAGES DE CONVEYANCE. 159 
 
 M. Necker had to go early next morning to Paris, where he 
 had promised to meet M. de Narbonne at the Cafe de Fois. 
 In accordance with his habitual punctuality, he arrived there 
 first. 
 
 As usual at such places, Hie news of the day was talked 
 over, and among these topics was also the marriage projected 
 between M. de Narbonne and the daughter of M. de Mon- 
 tholon, First President of the Parliament of Rome. The young 
 lady had inherited a fortune of three hundred thousand livres 
 i year from her mother's relatives in St. Domingo, and she was 
 said to be highly accomplished, but not yet fourteen years of 
 age. 
 
 Necker heard this intelligence with mingled feelings of sur- 
 prise. Ho loved his daughter too dearly not to watch atten- 
 tively all that concerned her ; and so it had not, escaped him 
 how her gifted mind had captivated M. de Narboune, and what 
 hopes this had awakened in her heart. On the other hand, 
 however, he could not find fault with the young man for pre- 
 ferring a union which offered him so many advantages. Pru- 
 dence, therefore, commanded M. Necker not to betray the dis- 
 appointment which this intelligence caused him. 
 
 As M. Necker in all relations of life always preferred a 
 straight course, he now too went to meet his young friend 
 with frank expression of countenance, and holding out his 
 hand to him, said : 
 
 " I congratulate you with all my heart on the union into 
 which you are about to enter, M. de Narbonne ; it would, how- 
 ever, have been more agreeable to me to receive the news from 
 your own lips than from those of strangers." , 
 
 M. de Narbonne blushed deeply, and replied, in confusion": 
 
 " I must admit that I did wrong so far as this is concerned, 
 and beg you to feel convinced th:il I much regretted not to be
 
 100 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 able to maite a confident of you. I am unfortunately not at 
 liberty to communicate to you the reasons which prevented 
 me from doing so ; for they would show you how reluctantly 
 I took a step to which I consented, not from inclination, but 
 from regard to the wishes of my family." 
 
 " It is always honorable for us to listen to the voice of 
 reason, no matter what our motive may be," said Necker. lie 
 then passed to other topics, and they parted in the most cor- 
 dial manner. 
 
 On the way home, Necker reflected whether he should com- 
 municate to his daughter that Narbonne was about to be 
 married, or whether it would be better to leave it to time and 
 chance to make her acquainted with it. He had not yet de- 
 termined which course to pursue, when Germaine came to 
 meet him at a great distance from his villa. 
 
 " Alone and on this deserted road ? " exclaimed her father, 
 in surprise. "People will be surprised, I should think, to see 
 Necker's daughter here." 
 
 " I am guiltless of any moral wrong by coming to meet 
 you," she replied, apologetically. 
 
 " But that is no valid excuse, my daughter. We cannot re- 
 turn to the primeval forest. Nor would you like to do so ; for 
 you are ambitious, and long to play a brilliant role in the world. 
 But you can never do so if you disregard the rules of conven- 
 tional propriety in this manner." 
 
 "I deem it beneath my dignity to conform to such petty 
 rules, which my reason does not recognize." 
 
 " Because your pride does not allow you to do so," said 
 Necker, gravely. 
 
 " And yet these rules of conventional decorum have a value 
 which neither your father's fame nor his millions can supply to 
 you. They rule, and we are subject to them."
 
 MA RET AGES DE COXVEXAXCE. 161 
 
 " I cannot deny that that is true in many respects," ex- 
 claimed Germaine, throwing back her head with an air of 
 vexation, " but the more irresistibly I feel tempted to rebel 
 against it." 
 
 " You would only suffer the more. This is unworthy of 
 your intellect. I know that you will not find happiness in soli- 
 tude ; you love society, and long to play a brilliant part in it. 
 Take pains, then, to please such persons as might promote 
 your interests in that sphere. In yielding to every caprice, 
 and violating conventional etiquette in a thousand little ways, 
 you yourself obstruct the path which you long to pursue. No 
 young man will dare to offer you his hand, lest you should 
 compromise him. Our friend Narbonne, I understand, is 
 going to marry a young lady, almost a child yet, who has just 
 left the convent, where she learned to submit to the rules of 
 conventional decorum." 
 
 " Are you in earnest? " asked Germaine, in surprise. 
 
 " In dead earnest." 
 
 " Do you know the girl whom he has preferred to me ? " 
 
 " She is a girl of good family, wealthy, and willing to con- 
 form to his ideas of propriety," replied her father, sharply. 
 
 Germaine bowed her head and uttered not a word. A 
 gnawing pain racked her heart ; it tormented her the more as 
 her eyes remained tearless. 
 
 When they reached St. Ouen, she was unable to leave the 
 carriage ; she was as if paralyzed, and had to be carried to her 
 room. M. Necker sat at her bed and held her hands. For 
 long hours she lay motionless, and it was not till long after 
 midnight that at length her spasms gave way, and a flood of 
 tears relieved her heart. 
 
 In her father she found her best and most affectionate com- 
 forter. The more his daughter suffered through the world,
 
 1G2 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 the greater was the tenderness with which he treated her, and 
 he tried to indemnify her with his love. Madame Necker did 
 not comprehend his indulgence on this occasion. She was 
 disposed to be angry at what he excused ; and what attracted 
 him to his child, removed her still more from Germaine, so 
 that mother and daughter seemed to be strangers. 
 
 Henceforth, Germaine no longer stepped out upon the bal- 
 cony in order to survey the road leading to Paris. Her health 4 
 was impaired, profound melancholy had seized her, and she sat 
 for hours with a book in her hand without reading a line in it. 
 Narbonne came to St. Ouen as usual, aud was received as if 
 nothing had happened. At his first visit, Germaine was not 
 in the room, and he dared not inquire after her. When he 
 came the next time, he found her alone. She reposed on a 
 chaise longue, the window was open, and the fragrant odor of 
 the flowers penetrated to her. When he entered the room, 
 she rose and held out her hand to him. 
 
 " I am glad to see you again," she said, kindly. " I hope 
 the new ties which bind you will not cause you to forget yoiir 
 old friends." 
 
 He pressed her hand to his lips, and said with deep emotion : 
 " I shall know how to be worthy of your friendship." 
 He then seated himself by her side, and uttered not a word 
 for a long time.
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 
 THE HERO OF THE AMERICAN WAR. 
 
 Two young cavaliers, whose prepossessing appearance and 
 proud bearing attracted the attention of most of the passers-by, 
 walked one morning arm-in-arm through the galleries of the 
 Palais Royal. They were engaged in an animated conversa- 
 tion, and paid no attention to what was going on around 
 them ; finally they entered the restaurant of the famous 
 Fevrier, whose culinary skill was far-famed at that time. 
 
 No sooner had they seated themselves at a small table in a 
 distant corner of the room, than a tall, slender gentleman, 
 round whose finely chiseled lips played a gracious smile, 
 passed by the window, recognized the two cavaliers, and, ut- 
 tering an " Ah ! " of surprise, entered the room and approached 
 them. 
 
 The younger of the two cavaliers had jumped up and has- 
 tened to meet him. " Condorcet, is it you ? " he exclaimed, 
 holding out his hands to him. " How glad I am to meet you 
 this very day ! JVly heart is so full of the New World that I 
 was almost disposed to forget our old institutions, until, now 
 that I have returned to France, they began to weigh me down 
 as heavily as before. Ah ! Condorcet, when I call to mind 
 the enchanting dreams in which you indulged, and which car- 
 ried my youthful imagination to the highest pitch of enthusi- 
 asm, my heart still throbs proudly and exultingly. And now,' 
 that I have helped a foreign nation to conquer what we in 
 France are not even permitted to long for in our dreams, I
 
 10^ MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 stand again on my native soil, and am at a loss to know what 
 to do." 
 
 "Patience, Vicorate, patience! you will certainly find your 
 place here, too," replied Condorcet, with a smile, slightly 
 tinged with sarcasm. "Permit me, however, to pay my re- 
 spects to M. de Narbonue, before requesting you to gladden 
 my heart by relating to me events from which a member of 
 the renowned Academy is as remote as the prince of hell is 
 'from the fields of the blessed." 
 
 " Why did you not follow" us ? " said the young hero of the 
 American war. " Why did you stick to your old folios, and 
 hold intercourse with dust and mould while we were driukiug 
 from the cup of life ? " 
 
 " In order not to get intoxicated, Vicomte," replied Condor- 
 cet, laughing. " In order not to awake as you have now 
 awaked. In order not to feel with still greater bitterness how 
 difficult it is to endure the thraldom of traditions which we 
 have inherited simultaneously with original sin." 
 
 " As usual, your colors are somewhat too gloomy," inter- 
 posed M. de Narbonne, smiling. " Permit me to reply that 
 our condition is by no means as hopeless as you represent it. 
 In my opinion, there was no need for us to fight in another 
 hemisphere for rights which we may obtain here, provided we 
 are earnestly determined to do so. There is in France repub- 
 licanism enough to convert our country, if not into a Republic, 
 at least into a constitutional State ; and that is the object 
 which \ve should strive to attain. I remained at home in 
 order to serve my country in this direction. To be sure, this 
 sacrifice which I made, met with a very sorry reward. Young 
 Segur was preferred to me, because he fought in the Colonies ; 
 and the defender of the rights of rebels, although scarcely out 
 of his teens, was sent to St. Petersburg in order to officiate
 
 TUB HERO OF THE AMEEICAX \VAE. 1G5 
 
 there as the representative of royal prerogatives. In such a 
 singular manner diplomacy plays with its own interests." 
 
 " Segur was preferred to you, owing to his father's influ- 
 ence," replied Coudorcet. " As Minister of War, he has a 
 great deal of influence over the King and those who know 
 how to profit by the most favorable moment, are always able 
 to manage his Majesty." 
 
 "It was not owing to that influence alone, but also to the 
 charm surrounding these champions of liberty," replied Nar- 
 bonne, gravely. " In the years of their absence from France, 
 they have assumed a bearing which we both admire and 
 envy. What makes us drop our eyes reverentially, seems 
 no longer imposing to them ; they look every man, no matter 
 what his rank may be, boldly and joyously in the face, 
 and their air indicates that they consider themselves his equals. 
 This boldness charms us. Mankind always submitted to cour- 
 age ; he who wants to rule, has only to assume an air of 
 independence, and he has already won half a victory. The 
 prince of the royal family, the most ancient nobility, are bow- 
 ing to heroes who mercilessly trample their prerogatives under 
 foot. They are ashamed of their titles and dignities in the 
 presence of a Lafayette, who has gained a civic crown, and 
 donned the plain dress of a commoner, which our powdered 
 and richly-attired courtiers contemplate with unfeigned aston- 
 ishment. A hermit could scarcely look more plainly dressed 
 in their midst than the victors of Yorktown." 
 
 " The picture you have just drawn is applicable to me, too," 
 interposed Montmorency, crimsoning and glancing at his black 
 dress. " In the last few years I have become so thoroughly 
 accustomed to the comfort of wearing my hair in its natural 
 state, and of dressing in a plain coat, that at my age I think I 
 am no longer fitted for the stiff court costume."
 
 100 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 " Of course, when one is twenty-five years old, and lias seen 
 the New World, one is no longer a child," replied Coudorcet, 
 with a smiling glance at Montmorency. 
 
 " I do not care if you laugh at my youth," exclaimed the 
 young man, merrily. " I am not ashamed of it. Besides, it is 
 an evil which improves every dav. And now, when the present 
 leaves so many wishes unfulfilled, my eye has need of this far- 
 extending view of the future, lest I should despair of my 
 country. I say to myself daily, " What we have not yet 
 achieved, we may obtain hereafter. I am young enough to live 
 and see the day when my beautiful France will likewise raise 
 liberty-poles, and erect altars to the rights of man." 
 
 " In order to immolate on them the descendants of the an- 
 cient house of Montmorency," interposed Condorcet. "Ah, 
 Vicomte, you do not suspect what a storm you conjure up by 
 your enthusiasm over your own head ! To mould one's own 
 destiny is more difficult than you believe ; to be indebted only 
 to one's own merits for honor, fame, and popularity, is a task 
 requiring extraordinary strength." 
 
 " But imparting strength, too," exclaimed the young man, 
 enthusiastically. " Young as I am, I am able to feel how the 
 sense of our worth grows with the deeds which we have per- 
 formed. I do not want to feed any more on the glory of my 
 ancestors, allow myself to be honored because they bore the 
 same name before me, date my merits from the tombs, and ex- 
 claim, " Look at the dust which was once called Montmor- 
 ency ; and I swear by God and all the saints that no Montmor- 
 * ency shall henceforth do so any more ! " 
 / " Vicomte," replied Condorcet, gazing at the young man 
 with an expression of growing satisfaction ; " you have 
 learned a great deal in a very short time; yes, I must confess 
 that you have learned more than I thought a Montmoreucy
 
 THE HKIIO OF THE AMEIUCAN WAR. 107 
 
 would ever comprehend. Here is my band! We must be 
 friends. Tbe dreams with which you charged me before are 
 neither buried nor forgotten. There are other men who dream 
 with me, and with them you shall now get acquainted. We 
 have not stood still since you did not see us. The torch which 
 you caused to illuminate another hemisphere has shed its rays as 
 far as France There are even now in France as many men as 
 there are subjects. And that we have likewise already learned 
 to pay homage to merit without regard to the ancestors of him 
 whom we honor, is shown by Necker's great popularity." 
 
 " Whose downfall the court party brought about because ho 
 did not belong to an ancient family," interrupted the young 
 man, warmly. 
 
 " You must not judge too rashly," replied Condorcet, calmly. 
 " It is true, he lost his office, but not his influence. It waa 
 because the people idolized him that the nobility hated and 
 feared Necker, and the King treated him so respectfully and 
 leniently. Do you not perceive the immense progress which 
 this fact indicates? What would it have been under another 
 King of a Minister of Finance bold enough to dictate wise 
 economy to the King and his court ? He would at least have 
 been hung." 
 
 " At least," repeated M. de Montmorency, " what else might 
 have happened to him ? But you are right. That this man, 
 who deserved to be a citizen of the United States, was not 
 deprived of his life and liberty, is a great homage paid to pub- 
 lic opinion." 
 
 " Such as France never knew before," said Condorcet ; " and 
 on this ground we must build ; we must strive to add to the 
 power of this voice, in order to bring about through it the 
 triumph of true humanity. Do you see now that we have some- 
 thing to do here too, and will you lend us your assistance ? "
 
 108 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 " Condorcet, I embrace you for the spark which you have 
 thrown into my soul," exclaimed the young man, folding him 
 to his heart. li Now I suddenly behold the dawn of a new 
 clay through the gloom that precedes it. Where is Necker ? 
 Take me to him ; he is the only man in France whose acquain- 
 tance I long to make." 
 
 " Before calling on him, read his Compte Rendu, in order to 
 familiarize yourself with his views. Besides, he would hardly 
 forgive you for overlooking in America the appearance of his 
 great book." 
 
 " What a clever sarcasm ! " exclaimed Narbonne, laughing. 
 
 " Then you must not look for an enthusiastic devotion to 
 mere ideas in this financier, who, with all the respectability of 
 his character and incorruptible honesty, is intent only on re- 
 storing the equilibrium of the budget, and pursues the same 
 course in regard to every virtue and right. Everything in life 
 must receive what is due to it, and no more ; for, if he gave 
 too much here, there would remain too little there ; if lie gave 
 both hands to one friend, he, could not hold out a third to an- 
 other ; if he spoke too warm a word here, there might arise in 
 consequence a deficit in his heart, by which somebody else 
 might have to suffer. In short, M. Necker take? pains to re- 
 semble the good God as much as possible. Not a scintilla of 
 blame could be adduced against him. There is in his infalli- 
 bility something humiliating for other mortals to whom some 
 human weaknesses still cling, and the consequence is that he 
 is esteemed and admired, but shunned by most people." 
 
 " He never made that impression on me," interposed Nar- 
 bonne, quickly. " I see him almost daily, and constantly be- 
 come more attached to him. It is so seldom that we meet a 
 man, who, entirely free from self-interest, serves and promotes 
 the good only for its own sake."
 
 TUB HERO OF THE AMERICAN WAR. 109 
 
 " Is that so ? " replied Condorcct, eyeing the speaker Avith a 
 significant smile. " In that case I strike my sails, M. de Nar- 
 bonne, and leave it to my young friend to form his own opin- 
 ions at his interviews with the celebrated financier. But let 
 rne previously whisper a little warning into his ear. Necker 
 has a daughter. The young lady, Vicomte, might succeed in 
 misleading your opinion of her father, as she has already done 
 with others. In that case I need not expect that you will in- 
 dorse what I have said about Necker." 
 
 This remark rather disconcerted M. de Narbonne; however, 
 he was not long in regaining his composure. 
 
 " You never liked Necker, Condorcet, " he said, with seem- 
 ing equanimity. " His system of economy did not agree with 
 your nature ; you looked upon this thrifty management of our 
 finances as rather undignified; you regarded his views as too 
 sober, and found fault with the rough common sense of the 
 Genevan parvenu. Oh, I remember it all very well. Your 
 opinion has misled me, and I hesitated a long time to get ac- 
 quainted with the illustrious Necker, until finally an accident 
 brought me in contact with him." 
 
 "And showed you that I had misrepresented Necker. I 
 suppose these words were wanting to what you said just 
 now ? " 
 
 " They were, indeed. I discovered how unjust it is to judge 
 others by comparing them with ourselves. Believe me, Con- 
 dorcet, it does not matter much in the long run by what route 
 we arrive at the goal, provided this goal is worth the pains we 
 have taken to reach it. When a man. devotes his life to the 
 welfare of humanity, we do not find fault with him if he 
 chooses a stony path leading to that aim. I wish you would 
 become more intimately acquainted with Necker, in order to 
 
 get a better opinion of him." 
 
 8
 
 1 70 MADAME DE STAKL. 
 
 " I certainly do him justice," replied Condorcet. " Maurcpas, 
 the old minister, called him 1 V Spine;' but I have christeued 
 him ' le ge/iie male' which certainly does not displease him ; for 
 he believes in himself as in another Saviour, and his wife and 
 daughter encourage him in this lamentable infatuation." 
 
 " Why lamentable ? " interrupted Narbouue. " He who does 
 not believe in himself will hardly ever obtain much influence 
 over others. The great Washington, no doubt, never had a 
 poor opinion of himself, and he is the only man with whom 
 Necker can be compared." 
 
 " As regards disinterestedness, I admit you are right," re- 
 plied Coudorcet. But otherwise, a certain modesty always 
 graces the truly great man. However, let us not quarrel 
 about it. However great his merits may be, they are only 
 those of an in dividual, -mortal like all of us. The really im- 
 portant service which he has rendered to our country, is the 
 victory which he caused public opinion to achieve over the 
 State and Church. The people has learned, and the King has 
 not forgotten, that these thousands of voices which cheered and 
 applauded him have a powerful sound ; and this power, tested 
 as it has been on this occasion, promises us a great deal." 
 
 "But we still have need of Necker in order to obtain it," 
 said Narbonne. "He was courageous enough to utter what 
 we thought, and this courage entitles him to our admiration." 
 
 " Which I am ready and willing to render to him," said 
 Condorcet, smiling. " Only I do not want to make a demi-god 
 of him. He is, moreover, already too prosperous. Wealth, 
 honor, and fame, all the blessings of this earth have been be- 
 stowed upon him; and, besides, fate placed in his daughter the 
 most gifted creature on earth by his side.* She possesses all 
 those qualities which are wanting to her father imagination, 
 * " Memoirs tie Coudorcet."
 
 TIIK IIEIIO OF THE AMERICAN WAR. 171 
 
 fervor, and enthusiasm a genius embracing heaven and earth. 
 Curried aud lifted up by her, Necker would be capable of sur- 
 passing himself. These remarks about Necker's daughter 
 show you, M. de Narbonne, that I can be just, and, as a gen- 
 eral thing, it is difficult for us men to be so in regard to 
 women," he added, smilingly. 
 
 " M'lle Necker does not know that you admire her so ar- 
 dently," replied Narbonne, " and she is unfortunately too affec- 
 tionate a daughter to forgive you for preferring her to her 
 father. You must get acquainted with her, Montmorency. 
 She likes to give the reins to her ardent imagination, and, if 
 you like, will dream the most beautiful dreams with you." 
 
 "To tell you the truth, Narboime, I should like better to 
 form the acquaintance of her father, and become his friend," 
 replied the young man. " I must cling in my life-path to a 
 great and noble character that would give to my being a cer- 
 tain stability, and prevent it from going astray too often. I 
 have entirely unlearned in the New World to feel at ease in 
 female circles. To flirt and chat with women reminds me of 
 the court of Sardanapalus. The welfare of my country and 
 the happiness of millions they are the stars to which I intend 
 to devote my strength ; where they beam on me, there is rny 
 happiness." 
 
 " You have returned to us with a joyous and hopeful heart, 
 my young Brutus," said Condorcet, with his peculiar smile, 
 which now, however, was not free from an expression of 
 heartfelt emotion as he fixed his eyes on the fine intellectual 
 face of the young man. " Thank God that you are still able to 
 entertain such sentiments. May you retain your noble enthu- 
 siasm and courage for many years to come ! I should dislike 
 to make you prematurely sober and prudent ; but I think the 
 acquaintance of our old financier will do you no harm ; for
 
 172 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 under his wings, as under those of an old hen, gather all hia 
 young political sympathizers, and his house is the rendezvous 
 of half the world." 
 
 " I was told that he lived in retirement at St. Ouen !" 
 
 " The road to that place is open to everybody, and, besides, 
 he may return any day to his post." 
 
 " We shall see him to-night at ' Figaro's Wedding,' " said 
 Narbonne. " I shall then take you to his box." 
 
 Necker had of late been often at the theatre, in order to divert 
 his daughter. He felt that her life by the side of her sick 
 mother, and her father, who was mostly very busy, was by far 
 too austere for a young girl, and he was fearful lest her loneli- 
 ness should add to her proneness to melancholy, and cause 
 her to live in a world of dreams, which estranged her more and 
 more from reality. So he often prevailed on her to read scien- 
 tific works; and since she had met with the bitter disappoint- 
 ment which Narbonne's marriage with another girl had caused 
 to her, he took pains to occupy himself a great deal with her, 
 and watched her with the most affectionate solicitude. 
 
 Count de Montmorency was not long in ingratiating himself 
 with Necker, upon whom his prepossessing appearance and 
 frank and open bearing made a very favorable impression. This 
 favorable opinion was much enhanced when Montmorencj'', in 
 the course of his frequent visits, assumed a tone of reverence, 
 mingled with familiarity and confidence, which imparted some- 
 thing filial to his relationship with the experienced statesman, 
 and which was very agreeable to Necker. Necker's wife, too, 
 was churmed with the unaffected courtesy of the young aris- 
 tocrat, and treated him with groat distinction. 
 
 'Germuine did not indicate in any manner that he had made 
 a particular impression on her. Inasmuch as M. de Montmor- 
 ency bestowed upon her only such attentions as were neces-
 
 THE HERO OF THE AMERICAN WAR. 173 
 
 sary and unavoidable, and did not seek her company, she had 
 little reason to feel flattered at his conduct, and often shunned 
 his presence intentionally. 
 
 She now wrote a great deal, and what she wrote seemed to 
 engross all her thoughts. 
 
 As it was Necker's habit, whenever an idea which he wished 
 to communicate to others occurred to him, to hasten to the 
 salon in order to inform his wife or his daughter of it, and dis- 
 liked to see that his sudden appearance interrupted them in 
 their occupations, his wife had accustomed herself to write 
 standing. As soon as the door opened, she quietly laid down 
 her pen and feigned to be entirely unoccupied. 
 
 Germaine had learned from her mother to conform to these 
 little peculiarities of her father. Her writing-desk stood on 
 the mantel-piece, and she quickly set clown there whatever she 
 wished to remember. 
 
 In the forenoon they were generally alone. The nervous 
 sufferings of her mother could be relieved only by warm baths, 
 and the use of them occupied the forenoon. Madame Necker, 
 moreover, now liked to be alone. The death of her friend 
 Thomas had afflicted her heart deeply, and for a long time she 
 was unable to recover from this terrible blow. The loss of her 
 faithful old friend, to whom she could confide everything that 
 occupied her mind, caused a most painful gap in her life, and 
 the idea of her own death engrossed all her thoughts. 
 
 M. de Narbonne presented his young wife to the Necker 
 family. " I know that she cannot become a companion of 
 yours," he said to Germaine; "but still I wished to make you 
 acquainted with her, for she admires you sincerely." 
 
 There was no need of this appeal. Germaine embraced her 
 tenderly ; and looked with mournful sympathy at the young 
 creature, who in her presence seemed more child-like than ever.
 
 174 MADAME DE STAEi. 
 
 " I wonder if she suspects how much reason I have to envy 
 her," she said to herself. 
 
 At a late hour one evening, Narbonne and Montmorency 
 called upon Necker in order to converse with him on the 
 Litest political events, and especially on the financial opera- 
 tions of Minister Calonne, which had created the greatest sen- 
 sation throughout France. Inasmuch as there were no other 
 guests, Necker remained with his young friends in the salon, 
 where they chatted in the presence of his daughter about the 
 political condition of France. Germaine soon took a lively 
 part in the conversation; and M. de Montmorency, who had 
 never before heard her discuss such grave subjects, was sur- 
 prised to see that she surpassed her father by her brilliant elo- 
 quence, and the profound views which she took of every ques- 
 tion. He involuntarily grew silent, while his eyes and ears 
 hung upon her lips. Narbonne noticed it. 
 
 " Did you find it out now ? " he whispered to him, casting a 
 significant glance on Germaine, who overheard his words. 
 
 " Find out what ? " she asked, blushing. 
 
 " Tour extraordinary abilities," said Narbonne. 
 
 "Alas!" she replied, sighing. " They are of no use to a 
 woman. Men love in us only ordinary qualities."
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A DISAPPOINTMENT. 
 
 DECKER'S daughter sat to-day again on the balcony of her 
 father's villa, and gazed out upon the road. A solitary horse- 
 man came in sight; he recognized her already at a distance, 
 and indicated by his salutation that he looked for a cordial 
 welcome. Her eyes followed him as he threw the reins c 
 horse to the groom in the court-yard below, and then hastily 
 ascended the staircase. 
 
 "I have occupied myself with you, M. de Montmorency," 
 laying down a manuscript. " Your diary has interested me ex- 
 ceedingly. I have seen the great Washington with your eyes, 
 and fought with you for a great cause. How even this echo 
 of glorious deeds expands our soul '. " 
 
 "History records such deeds everywhere," replied the young 
 man, seating himself by her side ; " but, it is true, our individual 
 feelings heighten or lessen the impression which they make 
 uponus. We, for instance, have bowed for centuries to 
 the will of a single man, and paid homage to the merit o 
 ancient names; it is then an entirely new phase for us to co- 
 operate with a nation which has renounced all traditions, and 
 obeys only its own will. Who knows but people may long one 
 day as intensely for our monarchial institutions as we are now 
 
 tired of them." ( 
 
 "Impossible!" cried Germaine, vehemently. ' 
 like mysdf, silver in cousequenceoftliL-.se prejudices, and have
 
 176 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 to sacrifice to them the happiness of their whole youth, cannot 
 conceive such an idea." 
 
 Montmorency looked at her in surprise, and, withal, inqui- 
 ringly. She grew confused. 
 
 " You bear an old name ; hence you do not comprehend 
 what I mean," she said. " Your position was assigned to you 
 at your very birth ; that of my father was a work of time, and 
 clue to his surpassing merits. These cannot be handed down 
 from father to child. So I have to obtain a position in society 
 by my own efforts. How am I to proceed in doing so ? " 
 
 "A lady obtains a position in society through her husband," 
 exclaimed M. de Montmorency. 
 
 "Not every man is courageous enough to demand for his 
 wife the place that is due to her," replied Germaine, gravely ; 
 " and several events have shown but very recently how in- 
 tolerant the most aristocratic circles of society are. Marriage 
 is to be a strictly conventional matter, and love is to be utterly 
 disregarded, lest new blood should mingle with that of the old 
 families." 
 
 M. de Montmorency was about to reply, but he suddenly 
 stopped short ad paced the room uneasily and \rresolutely. 
 He then seated himself opposite to Germaine, took up his diary, 
 and said : " Did you read it through ? " 
 
 This question showed her that he wished to change the sub- 
 ject of conversation, and she helped him to do so. 
 
 Since that evening on which her gifted mind had first sur- 
 prised him so greatly, he had taken pains to get better ac- 
 quainted with her, and had often conversed with her alone. 
 Both of them were of an age when such tete-d-tetes easily led 
 to greater familiarity. What they felt and thought was re- 
 flected in each other's souls, and every agreement in this di- 
 rection led to new communications.
 
 A DIS APPOINT A1KNT. 177 
 
 Keeker watched with grave eyes this growing familiarity, 
 which, as yet, bore only the name of friendship. If any man 
 at court was capable of rising above the prevailing prejudices, 
 and of becoming Necker's son-in-law, this courage might be 
 looked for in the young cavalier who had made such heavy 
 sacrifices to the cause of liberty. So he determined to wait 
 and see what would happen. 
 
 Both of them now went down to the garden, where they 
 met Necker, who had just returned from a walk. 
 
 " My daughter caused me to take my walk alone to-day, 
 because she awaited you," said Necker, after saluting his 
 young friend. " I might become jealous of you ; for, to tell 
 you the truth, I am quite spoiled in this respect," he added, 
 jestingly. 
 
 At these words-, Germaine clung affectionately to his arm. 
 
 " My dear, kind father ! " she exclaimed, tenderly. " You 
 will always hold the first place in my heart. Who could love 
 me as you love me ? Your wishes, your will, always will be 
 my supreme law, and never shall I seek for a happiness that 
 you do not approve." 
 
 " Thus speaks a dutiful daughter ! " said Necker, jocularly. 
 " Sons are not always so obedient, M. de Moutmorency. The 
 young men of our limes begin to pursue a course solely dicta- 
 ted by their own judgment." 
 
 " I do not approve these innovations," said the young man, 
 gravely. " The freer a state, the greater must be the deference 
 paid to parents and superiors. Never should I be capable of 
 taking a step at which my mother would take umbrage. She 
 has watched over my childhood with so much solicitude, that 
 I certainly owe her tbis consideration now that she has grown 
 old. No matter how difficult it may be for me to sacrifice my 
 dearest wishes to her peculiar notions, I am satisfied that my
 
 178 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 own conscience will amply reward me in course of time for 
 the struggle which I ana undergoing now." 
 
 He paused and looked thoughtfully before him. Germaine 
 leaned her head on her father's breast. Something told her 
 that these words decided her fate. 
 
 All three of them returned in silence to the house. 
 
 Visitors had arrived in the meantime. While Germaiue 
 devoted herself to the guests, she noticed that M. de Mont- 
 morency fixed his eyes on her with a certain mournful ten- 
 derness. 
 
 Henceforth his conduct toward her grew even more cordial, 
 and he visited her even more frequently than before ; but at 
 the same time he blamed her frankly and openly whenever he 
 thought she was doing wrong, and especially he often censured 
 her conduct toward her mother, whose cold, systematic ways 
 often provoked the rebellious spirit of the daughter. 
 
 When Germaine was alone, she now frequently shed tears ; 
 and when her father asked her what grieved her, she replied : 
 
 " Life gives me so little satisfaction." 
 
 He made no reply, for he knew full well that words would 
 not change her present state of mind. However, he had the 
 happiness of his child too much at heart not to try to devise 
 ways and means by which he might give her relief. Solitude 
 and tranquillity were unsuitable for her nature. She had to 
 live in a certain excitement, and, whatever she might do, she 
 had to do it passionately and impetuously ; violent conflicts, 
 breathless expectations of the coming minute, did her good. 
 To play a role in society was the only task for which she was 
 fitted. He took his steps in accordance with this convic- 
 tion. 
 
 One morning he surprised her at an unusually early hour in 
 the Ki'on, where she stood at the mantel-pirn 1 and wrote very
 
 A DISAPPOINTMENT. IT 9 
 
 rapidly. She was so much absorbed in her occupation that 
 she had not noticed his entrance; and when she saw him now, 
 she hurriedly cast aside her pen, blushing, and in confusion at 
 having been surprised in this manner. 
 
 " I should like to see what you are writing," said her father, 
 approaching her. " Will you let me see your manuscript ? " 
 
 " How can you ask such a question ? " she replied, handing 
 the manuscript to him. 
 
 He sat down in an arm-chair and turned over the manu- 
 script. 
 
 Meanwhile her eyes rested on him expectingly. 
 
 The contents began to interest him; at first he read only a 
 few passages here and there, but finally he became absorbed 
 in his daughter's work. 
 
 " You have been very industrious," he said, after a while. 
 " Your verses are beautiful, the diction is pure, and your style 
 has improved considerably since you laid your first dramatic 
 production before us." 
 
 " Oh, at that time I was still a child !" cried Germainc, some- 
 what offended. 
 
 " Yes, you were a child, but a very promising one," replied 
 Necker, calmly. "And now that we are about to celebrate 
 your birthday, I hope we shall witness the realization of all the 
 expectations to which you have given rise. Is it not so, my 
 daughter ? " 
 
 " I hope so," replied Germaine, trying to divine the drift of 
 her father's words. 
 
 " At that time, you know, I advised you not to continue your 
 literary labors, because I think a woman should lay her works 
 before the public only if her talents justify this step; and a> 
 you were stiil a child, I could not decide positively as to the 
 character of your abilities. Since then I have had repeated
 
 180 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 opportunities of admiring your extraordinary talents. Your 
 reply to the Compte Rendu was a masterpiece of eloquence; 
 your notes on Montesquieu's 'Esprit des Loix' are no less 
 piquant than able ; and what you have written about Rousseau 
 surprised me in a girl of your age ; but, to tell you the truth, 
 these poetical efforts seem to me unworthy of Necker's daugh- 
 ter." 
 
 " Why, father ? " asked Germaine, bursting into tears. 
 
 "Because they speak only of love and passion, and of the 
 bitter grief of resignation. I should have expected that you 
 would have bestowed your attention upon graver subjects. 
 You are no ordinary girl, Germaine. If you were, I should 
 willingly forgive you these idle reveries. If you could lend to 
 your life no higher interest than to hear the confession of love 
 from the lips of a man, I should not blame you for practicing 
 the little arts leading to that object. But, gifted as you are 
 far beyond most women, you must set a wider horizon to your 
 feelings; humanity, and not a single man, must fill your 
 heart." 
 
 Germaine had buried her face in her hands and made no 
 reply. Her father's words touched her like live coals. He had 
 touched the right string ; her ambition was sorely wounded. 
 Necker continued, after a pause : 
 
 " Since you are brooding over your feelings, your intellec- 
 tual development has made no progress. Sophie, ou les senti- 
 ments secrets. I ask you what new views you will gain by writ- 
 ing on such a subject. Then comes Jane Grey. Despite the his- 
 torical back-ground, you treat the subject in the same limited 
 manner. The verses are good, and the style is very attractive, 
 but I do not consider that sufficient. Of my daughter, I ex- 
 pect ideas. You have a masculine mind ; that is to say, you 
 possess judgment, and, therefore, stand above the relations of
 
 A DISAPPOINTMENT. 181 
 
 life, while the so-called feminine natures are pent up and 
 dominated by them. How often did you fill both myself and 
 the friends of our house with sincere admiration, by your pro- 
 found criticisms and correct appreciation of authors and their 
 works, and now you would allow your mind to walk in the 
 leading-string* 1 of your emotions." 
 
 " No, I wil! not do so, father ! " vehemently cried Germaine, 
 jumping up from her seat. " As sure as I live, I will not do 
 so. But pa) Jon me for saying : I long so intensely to love 
 and be lover, that my yearning for this happiness overshad- 
 ows every o*,uer desire of my heart. Is it my fault that my 
 heart throbs, impetuously, and that in my bosom burns a fire 
 that longs to be quenched ? Is it my fault that in my veins 
 stirs a current of life, intent on asserting itself? I do not 
 know whither to direct the strength which I possess ; it seems 
 to me I am bk? a volcano, in whose depths the elements are 
 struggling TV ita one another, while the cold and dry surface 
 covers the HMnte.i lava. I walk my path like other human 
 beings ; but vbfct .makes them happy, kills me. I find no sat- 
 isfaction in the petty pleasures and joys of life ; there must be 
 a happiness aftVrdlag us a more exalted bliss, and it is for this 
 bliss that I long." 
 
 " You will not und i* m the path which you have entered," 
 said Necker, taking hox ha.id, and drawing her to him. " All 
 gifted natures feel as you do. Life seems to them not to afford 
 what they long for; .\nd to satisfy this longing for more ex- 
 alted bliss, religion points o:U to them the road to another 
 Avorld. A man has l*is amttt-on ^nd glory to quench this 
 flume ; a woman has nothin j but her * we, wMch pens her up 
 in a narrow circle of duties. Look t y^ir moi?br. What a 
 simple, unpretending life she has: led by my side, hombly and 
 faithfully striving to be a he'pmate to r:\fc. Ii is the
 
 182 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 aim which a woman is able to reach, to become the consort of 
 a man whom she loves and respects, and to whom she will- 
 ingly subordinates herself, because she acknowledges his supe- 
 rior judgment. You must renounce this kind of happiness, 
 my child ; inasmuch as your superior intellect prevents you 
 from pursuing such a modest and humble course. The man 
 to whom you might look up, would have to be born first." 
 
 " I revere you, father, as, next to God, I can never revere any 
 mortal ; and I do believe that you arc on earth the only man 
 worthy of such reverence ! " 
 
 "You are my child," said Necker, affectionately, and that 
 determines our relationship. In a certain sense I am you, and 
 you are me. We are mutually proud of one another; and that 
 which concerns you, touches me even more sensibly than if it 
 concerned myself. But it is not thus with man and wife. They 
 must first assimilate, and learn how to treat one another. For 
 this purpose the wife has need of self-abnegation. But you are 
 unable to restrain ; your nature is too impetuous and indepen- 
 dent, and must rule until time will teach you moderation. You 
 are, moreover, too gifted to bo able to confine your talents to 
 the narrow circle of domestic duties ; you must yield to grand 
 ideas, and warm your heart for the happiness of millions. It 
 is in this extensive horizon that lies the happiness for which 
 you long. Silence your feelings, and let them give place to 
 fame." 
 
 Germaine trembled. She pressed her hand to her heart, and 
 became so dizzy that she was fearful she might faint away. 
 
 " And you believe that I possess ability enough to obtain 
 fame?" She asked, anxiously. 
 
 " I believe it not only, my daughter, but feel convinced of it 
 No woman in France ever possessed such extensive knowledge 
 und refined culture as you do. Lay a-idc those childish c Hurts,
 
 A DISAPPOINTMENT. 183 
 
 bestow your attention upon something serious, continue your 
 letters on Ro, sseau, publish them as soon as they are com- 
 pleted, and your success will teach you something about your 
 worth and capacity. All France will pronounce the name of 
 the authoress with ardent admiration, and Parisian society \v ill 
 lavish encomiums on you." 
 
 "Oh, if I could obtain fame in this wise!" she exclaimed, 
 with radiant eyes. " Oh, if I should be admired and revered 
 like you ! Ah, I feel how tempting the idea is ! " 
 
 " Rely on my judgment. It is, besides, my intention to pro- 
 cure you now a sphere of your own in Paris. Loath as I am 
 to part with you, I must pursue the same course as other fa- 
 thers, and secure you a name of your own, and a position in 
 society. Now, inasmuch as you are iny only child, I may be 
 pardoned for the desire of keeping you near me, and this is 
 the only difficulty standing in the way of a match suitable 
 and desirable in every other respect," 
 
 " With whom ? " exclaimed Germaine, crimsoning. 
 
 "With the Swedish Embassador, Baron de Stael. He is 
 a Protestant; hence, there is no religious objections to the 
 union. His official position will procure you access to the most 
 aristocratic society, and even the Court must receive you, 
 whether your father be in disgrace or not. M. de Stael, al- 
 though no longer a young man, is good-looking, and will not 
 impose any restraint on you ; only as regards representation, 
 you must submit to the stringent rules of court etiquette. He 
 is not wealthy, and so he desired this union ; and inasmuch as 
 I was fearful lest his King should recall him, and bury my 
 child in the woods of Scandinavia, I imposed the condition 
 that he must procure a written pledge that he should 
 remain, at the head of the Parisian embassy during his life- 
 time. He has now applied to Marie Antoinette; and the
 
 184 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 Queen, who is as passionate a match-maker as most women, 
 has written an autograph letter to the King of Sweden. As 
 soon as his answer arrives, I shall present Baron de Stael to 
 you, and you may then decide for yourself whether you will 
 accept his hand or not." 
 
 So saying, Necker left his daughter, musing on all that she 
 had heard.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE DINNER AT THE ACADEMY. 
 
 THE Prince cle Beauveau gave a brilliant festival to the mem- 
 bers of the Academy, and invited Necker to it. Necker vis- 
 ited now but rarely the soirees to which he was invited, inas- 
 much as the feeble health of his wife rendered it impossible 
 for her to accompany him ; but on this occasion she deter- 
 mined to make an exception, and urged him to accept the 
 invitation for herself and Germaine. 
 
 Germaine was overjoyed at her mother's resolution, inas- 
 much as she hoped to find the most brilliant conversation in 
 the circle of the most distinguished men of France. So she 
 looked farward to the appointed day with considerable interest 
 and pleasure. 
 
 Since the interview with her father, which we have related 
 in the preceding chapter, she had zealously devoted her morn- 
 ing hours to her literary labors. However difficult it was for 
 her to renounce the dearest wishes of her heart, she felt the 
 necessity of following her father's advice ; for who could tell 
 if she was not mistaken in regard to Montmorency's apparent 
 attachment, as she had been as to that of M. de Narbonne's ? 
 Who could tell her that he was able to dispose of his heart 
 and hand in consonance with his own wishes ? 
 
 Her interviews with him caused her to heave many a 
 heavy sigh. She was not allowed to tell him how much she 
 felt attracted towards him, nor suffer him to read in her eyes
 
 186 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 how much she liked him. This embarrassed and confused her 
 in his presence. 
 
 His changeable conduct added to her perplexity. Now he 
 treated her with the tenderness of a brother, and now he 
 took pains to be cold toward her, as if it was his intention to 
 efface the impression which he had made on her before. This 
 uncertainty in their mutual relations was perfectly intoler- 
 able, and she was desirous of bringing about a decision at any 
 cost. 
 
 Her beautiful and profound essays on Rousseau's character 
 and writings were on the eve of completion, and she anxiously 
 looked forward to the moment when she would lay them be- 
 fore the public. 
 
 She would oftentimes absorb herself so thoroughly in this 
 occupation, that she took no notice of the lapse of time; 
 and to-day, too, when the festival at the Academy was to take 
 place, this had happened to her. Madame Necker entered her 
 room in full dress before she had even thought of her toilet. 
 She jumped up in dismay when she saw her mother's clouded 
 brow, and hastened out of her room. 
 
 Madame Necker, shaking her head, followed her with a slow 
 step. 
 
 Upon entering her daughter's room, she found Germaine's 
 maid already busily occupied in helping to dress her young 
 mistress. She fastened red rosettes to her dark hair, and put on 
 a green dress fringed with gold ; this costume rendered her 
 corpulent form and swarthy complexion so conspicuous, that 
 Germaine's mother started back in dismay as she now beheld 
 her own image beside that of her daughter in the large toilet- 
 mirror. 
 
 " You cannot wear this costume, Germaine," she said. " This 
 dress does not become you."
 
 THE DINNER AT THE ACADEMV. 187 
 
 "Nevermind," replied Germaine, carelessly. " I never shall 
 be beautiful, and I should not like to keep father waiting." 
 
 " He will do so rather than expose his daughter to the sneers 
 of society, which always finds fault with what the Necker fam- 
 ily is doing," replied her mother, in a tone of vexation. " You 
 must now the more zealously avoid exposing yourself to ridi- 
 cule, as you may at no distant time fill a place in society where 
 such things might injure you." 
 
 " Of course, if I am to be judged by such trifles, such as the 
 color of a rosette or a bonnet, I shall frequently incur the cen- 
 sure of society ; for my nature is averse to paying much atten- 
 tion to such things," said Germaine, angrily. 
 
 Madame Necker made no reply, in order not to continue this 
 conversation in the presence of the servant-girl. When they 
 entered the carriage, she said : 
 
 " I owe you yet a reply, Germaine. Accept this lesson from 
 your mother now, that it may still be useful to you. Never 
 treat anything as so trifling that it might not influence the hap- 
 piness or unhappiness of your life. It is a noteworthy fact, 
 too, that we seldom gain the affections of men by brilliant 
 qualities, but rather by the little things by which we enchant 
 their eyes. This truth may seem distasteful to you, but put it to 
 the test, and you will be unable to deny it." 
 
 Germaine made no reply, as she vised to do when her mother 
 spoke of love; her remarks on that subject always made a dis- 
 agreeable impression on her, and a painful feeling of envy and 
 jealousy tormented her heart. 
 
 When they arrived at the Academy, all the guests were al- 
 ready assembled. The singular contrast between mother and 
 daughter was noticed by everybody to-day. Madame Nccker 
 looked even paler than usual. She wore a crimson dress her ' 
 favorite color and her fair hair was dressed in antique style,
 
 188 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 with a toupet called d la Miiierve, which she had introduced be- 
 cause she disliked the tall hair-dress then in vogue. Her deli- 
 cate and slender figure and white and almost transparent 
 complexion still imparted to her a very youthful appearance, 
 although she was already upward of forty years old. 
 
 Germaine, on the other hand, looked much older than she 
 was. Although her white dress, and the plain green wreath 
 with which her mother had caused her to adorn her dark hair, 
 were a toilet suitable to her complexion, and distinguished her 
 from the older ladies, she did not make a pleasing impres- 
 sion, and, above all things, there was wanting to her that grace- 
 ful composure and tranquillity peculiar to the bearing of a dis- 
 tinguished lady. 
 
 She would have certainly herself felt this want most sensibly, 
 had she been aware of it ; but no one is able to draw an im- 
 partial picture of his own appearance, and never correctly 
 appreciates the impression which it produces. 
 
 Despite her superior mind, which inwardly raised her far 
 above most men, she always seemed to be deficient in that dig- 
 nity which self-consciousness generally imparts to us. This 
 arose, perhaps, from the fact that it was not easy for her to be- 
 gin a conversation, and usually was exceedingly laconic in 
 speaking with insignificant persons; and it was uot until an 
 idea excited her interest that she burst forth into a stream of 
 the most fervent eloquence, which silenced all others. 
 
 Necker, therefore, would say, "Mafille a besoin dun premier 
 mot" 
 
 There were among the guests several ladies of the court, to 
 whom Madame Necker hurriedly introduced her daughter ; 
 and then all went to the table. 
 
 Germaine was fortunate enough to sit between two gentle- 
 men who were exceedingly agreeable to her M. de Narbonno
 
 THE DINNER AT THE ACADEMY. 189 
 
 and M. de Condorcet. She missed, however, the Vicomte de 
 Moutmorency ; ajad yet, whenever the question, rose to her 
 lips, she did not venture to inquire why he was not present. 
 
 The general conversation soon referred to the usual topics : 
 the finances, the short supply of grain, Minister Calonne and 
 his golden promises, the purchase of St. Cloud for Queen 
 Marie Antoinette, and the growing unpopularity of her 
 Majesty. 
 
 " Let us not talk politics to-day, Mademoiselle Necker," 
 exclaimed Narbonne ; " I am in too good spirits to give you 
 any sensible answers." 
 
 " And I am too grave to talk anything but sense," replied 
 Germainc. " So we had better keep silence." 
 
 " I shall not object, if Condorcet will tell us some pretty 
 stories which would make us laugh." 
 
 " I should rather make you shudder, by repeating all sorts 
 of ghost stories about Cagliostro and the Rosicrucians. But 
 you must first promise me to listen without skepticism." 
 
 " I shall promise no such thing," exclaimed Germaine. " I 
 must, above all things, preserve my liberty." 
 
 " That is my creed too," said Condorcet. " Mademoiselle 
 Necker and I are worthy of being placed by the side of the 
 great Washington." 
 
 " By the way," said Narbonne, " where is our young enthu- 
 siast of liberty ? Why is our friend Montmorency not here ? " 
 
 " He was suddenly summoned to his old grandmother in 
 the country. The venerable lady had heard all sorts of ru- 
 mors about him, which rendered her fearful he might prove 
 recreant to the principles of a Montmorency. A family coun- 
 cil was summoned ; and he is, perhaps, being tried at this very 
 moment." 
 
 " Well, we cannot swim against the stream in this world,"
 
 190 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 replied Narboune, carelessly. " They have long ago chosen a 
 wife for him, but could never prevail on him even to look at 
 the girl. For the rest, that may not be so very necessary, pro- 
 vided he consents to marry her." 
 
 " His grandmother will be certain to obtain his consent," 
 said Condorcet, laughing. " No one but he who has experienced 
 it himself, knows the power of a grandmother's tears over the 
 heart of a tender young man." 
 
 " I think tears are even more effective when the eyes which 
 weep them are not too old," said Narbonne, jocularly. 
 
 " I am sure you cannot weep," said Coudorcet to Germaiue, 
 who had sat absorbed in her thoughts ; " the fire of your eyes 
 will immediately dry the tears gushing from your lids." 
 
 " You are mistaken, M. de Condorcet. Grief always affects 
 me so powerfully that I shed at once streams of tears, and 
 could fill for you a vial with tear-drops if you wish it." 
 
 " In that case I should have to wish to plunge you into grief, 
 which would cause those tears, and God forbid that I should 
 do that," exclaimed Condorcet, deprecatiugly. 
 
 " Pray look at Cazotte," interposed Narbonne, pointing to a 
 pale young man who sat close by. " He is turning paler and 
 paler, and rolls his eyes as if he had visions." 
 
 " I wonder why they invited him," said Condorcet, shaking 
 his head. 
 
 " Perhaps he came without an invitation. You know what 
 sort of a man he is." 
 
 " Do you know him ? " asked Germaine. 
 
 "To be sure I do," replied Narbonne. "He is a popular 
 
 I journalist ; but he has latterly lost his head, owing to the 
 
 Avritings of Saint Martin and the teachings of the Illuminati. 
 
 He is said to have occasional fits of insanity, when he foretells 
 
 the events of the future."
 
 THE DINNER AT THE ACADEMY. 191 
 
 "Why do you call the gift of prophecy insanity ?" asked 
 Germaine. 
 
 " Because I do not believe that it is given to us to foresee fu- 
 ture events," replied Narbonne. 
 
 " I should like to hear him prophesy," exclaimed Germaine, 
 excitedly. 
 
 " In that case I will try to see if the spirit moves him to re- 
 veal the future to us," said Condorcet, rising to speak with the 
 strange guest. 
 
 " You are so grave, M. Cazotte," he began. " You do not 
 participate in the conversation. May I fill your glass and at 
 the same time drink your health ? " 
 
 " I thank you," mournfully replied Cazotte, shaking his head. 
 
 " What ? You are so dejected that nothing will induce you 
 
 to participate in the general mirth ? " Condorcet went on to ask. 
 
 A shudder ran through Cazotte's frame, and averting his 
 
 head, he whispered, "Poor Condorcet! It tastes bitter, does 
 
 it not?" 
 
 " Are you speaking of me ? " exclaimed Condorcet. " I do 
 not understand what you mean. What is bitter? Pray tell 
 me what you refer to ? " 
 
 " The poison tastes bitter," whispered Cazotte. 
 " What poison ? " 
 
 " That which you will take in order not to fall under the 
 executioner's ax." 
 
 Condorcet turned pale. He smiled, but with bloodless lips. 
 Germaine, who had listened to them attentively, seized Nar- 
 bonne's arm and clung to it convulsively. 
 
 " You let me suffer the death of Socrates," he then said, with 
 forced composure, " but do not tell me the reason why. I can- 
 nof, like him, overthrow the false gods, nor proclaim that there 
 is but one God."
 
 1D2 MADAME UE STAEL. 
 
 " Trutli is God ; lies are false gods,'^ cried Cazotte, as if ab- 
 sently. 
 
 " Ah, well then, let us drink to the victory of truth, gentle- 
 men ! " 
 
 " You laugh," said Cazotte, shaking his head disapprovingly. 
 " Poor Condorcet. You will soon cease laughing in this man- 
 ner ! " 
 
 " Your words are very grave," replied Condorcet, with 
 forced hilarity. " But do you want to let me die all alone 
 for the triumph of truth ? That would be almost too cruel." 
 
 " Unfortunately, fellow-sufferers will not be wanting to you," 
 said Cuzotte, with a deep sigh. " Your neighbor at this table, 
 M. Chamfort, is averse to sharing the bitter cup with you ; but 
 he does not want to fall either under the executioner's ax; so 
 he will open his veins and slowly bleed to death. As for you, 
 M. Bailly, and you, Malesherbes, and Roucher, you will hope 
 to the last that they will acquit you ; even at the moment when 
 they lead you to the scaffold, you will refuse to believe that 
 your death is at hand." 
 
 All the guests now commenced listening to him attentively. 
 Germaine trembled with horror and agitation. 
 
 " What will be my fate ? " she asked, in a very low voice. 
 
 Strange to say, "Cazotte seemed to have heard her words, 
 for he immediately fixed his eyes on her, and the longer he 
 looked at her, the more joyous became the expression of his 
 face. 
 
 " Yoii are saved ! " he said at last, heaving a deep sigh of re- 
 lief. " You save the life of two friends, and your own is pre- 
 served in return." 
 
 " And the names of those whom I save ? " she cried, in fever- 
 ish agitation. 
 " M. de Narbonne and M. de Montmorcncy, neither of whom
 
 THE DINNER AT THE ACADEMY. 193 
 
 deserve that you should risk your life in saving them from the 
 executioner's ax." 
 
 " He does not speak very highly of me, that is certain," ex- 
 claimed Narbonne, laughing. It was to be seen, however, teat 
 his mirth did not come from his heart. " Henceforth I shall 
 more than ever take pains to keep on friendly terms with you, 
 Mademoiselle Necker, since I know that you might suffer me 
 to expiate the slightest delinquency with my head." 
 " Not with your heart, too ? " she asked. 
 " Oh, you have long since crushed that." 
 " But all of us must die. Could he not be prevailed upon to 
 tell us, how, when, and where?" 
 
 " The ' how,' at bottom, is indifferent," replied Narbonne ; 
 " the ' when ' might prevent us from enjoying the present time ; 
 but the ' where ' cannot lessen our happiness. So let us inquire 
 about the ' where.' " 
 
 Gazette, whose eyes were still turned in the same direction, 
 looked at both of them a while in silence ; he then murmured 
 in a very low voice : 
 
 " Not on French soil. Narbonne dies at Torgau, and M'lle 
 Necker at Geneva." 
 
 The two looked at each other in surprise. " Torgau ! " said^ 
 Germaine. " I should like to know where that is. For God's 
 sake, why should you go to such a place? " 
 
 "Yes, if I knew that," replied Narbonne, shrugging his 
 shoulders, "perhaps I should not do so." Both of them 
 laughed. 
 
 Meanwhile all the guests had risen in order to hear what was 
 going on. The Duchess de Grammont stepped close up to 
 Cazotte and said : 
 
 " Pray, M. Cazotte, prophesy to me, too, as noble a deed as 
 you predicted to M'lle Necker. It would be exceedingly
 
 194 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 agreeable to me to hear that one of these gentlemen should be 
 indebted to me for his life." 
 
 Cazotte looked at the beautiful lady for a moment. He 
 then said : 
 
 " I can only inform you, Duchess, that you -will be taken, 
 with many other ladies, in a cart, your hands tied behind your 
 back, to the place of execution." 
 
 " And M'lle Necker will not accompany me ? " she asked, 
 laughing. 
 
 " She will not accompany you," he replied, his expression 
 growing still more mournful, and his blue eyes filling with tears. 
 " She will be far away. Her heart will suffer ; she will seek 
 assuagement ; and that which will afford it to her will plunge 
 her into an early grave." 
 
 " You treat me too cruelly, M. Cazotte," said the Duchess. 
 " The prospect of that ride on the cart is decidedly unpleasant. 
 I wish at least I had agreeable companions on the way to the 
 place of execution." 
 
 " They will assuredly allow you a confessor, Madame," ex- 
 claimed Condorcet, jocularly ; " and inasmuch as you will have 
 a long time to prepare for the ride, you should betimes select a 
 very amiable abbe for that purpose. If Cardinal Rohan should 
 be acquitted by that time, you might count upon him ; he is 
 fond not only of love affairs, but of all sorts of adventures, 
 and both of them united would crown his wishes. The same 
 may be said of the amiable Talleyrand, who would certainly 
 not shrink from the short journey from Autun to Paris in 
 order to render you this important service. How soon shall 
 we have to send for him, M. Cazotte?" he said, turning in- 
 quiringly to the latter. 
 
 " It is unnecessary," replied Cazotte. " The last person who 
 will be accompanied to the scaffold by a priest," he hesitated
 
 THE DIXXER AT THE ACADEMY. 
 
 195 
 
 for a moment, as if his lips refused to utter the words-" is 
 Louis Capet, King of France 1" 
 
 No sooner had those terrible words been spoken, than all the 
 guests started up at the same time, and looked in dismay at the 
 prophet, who, trembling at his own prediction, intended to 
 escape from the room. But the Duchess de Grammont, seizing 
 his arm, said, sneeringly : 
 
 " As you have predicted such a charming lot to me, sir, I 
 should like to hear what you are going to do about yourself. 
 Is it your intention to share my fate? Do you prefer taking 
 poison like M. de Condorcet, or will the hand of some beautiful 
 lady untie your fetters, as you prophesied in regard to M. de 
 Narbonne and M. de Montmorency ? Pray inform me of your 
 fate, too, that I may know how, when, and where we may per- 
 haps meet again ? " 
 
 Cazotte eyed the beautiful lady gloomily, from head to foot, 
 and then bowed his head, saying to himself in a monotonous 
 voice : 
 
 " During the seige of Jerusalem a man walked on the walls 
 of Jerusalem for seven days, and shouted in a terrible voice : 
 Woe unto me!' A large stone hurled from the enemy's 
 MMsta then hit him and tore him to pieces." 
 
 Having addressed these words to the Duchess, he bowed to 
 her and left the room. 
 
 No one detained him. A shudder ran through the whole 
 conpany, and all hastened to leave the house without taking 
 any further notice of their acquaintances.
 
 CHAPTER YL 
 
 THE YOUNG EMBASSADKESS. 
 
 THE Swedish Embassador, Baron de Stael, held to-day his 
 first reception at his newly-furnished palace. 
 
 Thousands of wax-lights illuminated the spacious apart- 
 ments ; the most beautiful exotics transformed the ante-rooms 
 into gardens, and impregnated the atmosphere with the sweet 
 perfumes of the tropics. Servants in gorgeous liveries has- 
 tened in all directions, and stationed themselves at the foot of 
 the large staircase in order to receive the guests and announce 
 their names. 
 
 In one of the rooms a great many instruments were to be 
 seen, and all preparations bad been made for a concert. M'lle 
 Huberti, the first cantatrice of the Grand Opera, had con- 
 sented to entertain the guests with some airs from the opera 
 Dido, which she sang with great skill and taste. The lady of 
 the house herself had selected the airs ; for the fate of the 
 unhappy Queen of Carthage always excited her heartfelt com- 
 passion. To love a renowned hero seemed to her such a great 
 happiness, that she regarded as quite explicable the Queen's 
 determination not to survive such a loss. 
 
 Now all preparations for the festival were completed, and 
 the Embassador walked through the still empty apartments 
 with a slow step and gloomy air. 
 
 " Is my wife already fully dressed ? " he said to the footman,, 
 who entered the room.
 
 THE YOUNG EMBASSADRESS. 197 
 
 "I shall go and ask, sir," replied the footman, turning to 
 leave the room. 
 
 " Bequest the Baroness, in my name, to come hither as soon 
 as her toilet is finished," said the Baron. " I am looking mo- 
 mentarily for the arrival of the guests." 
 
 Shortly after, a young lady hastened toward him through 
 the long suite of gorgeous apartments. She was dressed in 
 light-blue velvet, and wore a kind of crimson turban on her 
 raven hair, which fell in heavy ringlets on her shoulders. A 
 set of precious pearls adorned her neck and beautiful arms.* 
 Despite this very tasteful and expensive costume, and notwith- 
 standing the charm which youth imparts, the appearance of 
 the young Embassadress was by no means prepossessing. Her 
 heavy frame, her broad lips, and coarse features imparted to 
 her appearance an air of grossness which did not disappear 
 till one caught a sunbeam from her magnificent eyes, and 
 heard the words of her eloquent lips. 
 
 A man's gait corresponds to his character ; for it is an ex- 
 pression of his being. 
 
 She hastened, as we said before, with somewhat too long 
 steps through the long suite of apartments toward her husband, 
 who awaited her approach, his hands folded at his back. 
 When she was already quite close to him, she suddenly stood 
 still, as if calling something to mind, assumed a stiffer attitude, 
 and then, approaching him more ceremoniously, and bowing 
 slightly, said to him : 
 " You see I am ready, sir." 
 
 Her husband's air had not changed at her approach ; it re- 
 mained as cold as before ; only a tinge of irritation was added 
 
 to it. 
 
 " Your gloves ? " he said, eyeing her. 
 * " Portrait inedit de Madame de Stael ; par uii Homme de Lettres."
 
 198 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 She looked at her hands in surprise. 
 
 " Ah, mon Dieu, I have forgotten them," but in a tone be- 
 traying the vexation caused by his censure. 
 
 "And your fan?" 
 
 " I forgot it, too, in my hurry to join you here. I shall go 
 and fetch the gloves and fan immediately." 
 
 So saying, she turned, and was about to leave the room. 
 
 " Never mind," exclaimed the Embassador. " It would be 
 my duty to render you this service, if it were not absolutely 
 necessary for me to stay here. So permit me to send my valet- 
 de-cliambre for the gloves and fan. Etienne, hasten to the 
 dressing-room of the Baroness, ask her gloves and fan of the 
 lady's maid, and tell her I hoped she would henceforth attend 
 more carefully to her duties." 
 
 The valet hastened to carry the order into execution. Mean- 
 while Baron de Stael turned again to his young wife. 
 
 " I hope you will bear in mind the rules of etiquette, Mad- 
 ame, which I have taken pains to inculcate upon you, and you 
 will carefully observe the ceremonial in accordance with the 
 rank of the persons whom we shall receive to-night ? " he asked, 
 coldly. 
 
 " I believe I remember all your instructions on this subject, 
 Baron," she replied, gently. 
 
 " You will oblige me by trying to avoid violating those rules 
 in any respect, Madame," he continued, in the same measured 
 tone. " It would be very disagreeable to me if all Paris should 
 laugh at us to-morrow." 
 
 " You attach considerable importance to the opinion of the 
 world concerning very trifling matters, sir," she said, taking 
 the gloves and fan which the valet presented to her. 
 
 " The rules which etiquette imposes on aristocratic society 
 are by no means trifling matters to persons of noble birth," he
 
 THE YOUNG EMBASSADKESS. 
 replied, sarcastically. " They are the tomb-stone of a good 
 
 ^'Fortunately more liberal views begin to prevail in this re- 
 spect," she said, quietly. "The young noblemen of France 
 have proved in the American war that they hanker after a 
 other kind of glory than that ofbeing perfect courtic ,' 
 
 "The youn- noblemen will soon recover from their 
 enthusiasm, Madame, and then be ashamed of the spurs whicl 
 they won in struggling for a bul principle. You may depec 
 
 UP Pardon me, sir, if I prefer not to give any credence to your 
 prediction; for it would grieve me to doubt the ultirnate 
 triumph of a cause for which all my pulses are throbbing. 
 
 Then I advise you to drink a great deal of lemonade in 01 
 der to get rid of those unfeminine sentiments." 
 
 You use the words feminine and unfeminine so often, sir, 
 that I should like to have you explain to me what qualities yot 
 wish to designate by these adjectives? At times, I must con- 
 fess, the strange idea has occurred to me that you call fcmmme 
 only natures about which little or nothing can be said. 
 
 "Your supposition is quite correct, Madame. We ask of 
 a woman only that she be handsome and try to please us." 
 
 " In that case, nature has imposed upon us a task n 
 agreeable than easy," she said. 
 
 Agreeable, yes ; but if it is easy, is somewhat doubtful, in 
 asrnuch as it requires charms which many a woman 
 possess," he said, significantly. 
 
 Count d' Artois ! " shouted a footman at this moment. 
 "Monsieur and Madame Necker !" shouted another; and 
 while the Embassador went to meet the royal prince, his wife 
 hastened to her parents, and embraced her father with strea 
 
 ing eyes.
 
 200 MADAME RE STAEI* 
 
 Necker turned pale on seeing this outburst of grief on the 
 part of his beloved child. He glanced anxiously about the 
 room, which was rapidly filling with guests, in order to see if 
 anybody had noticed the occurrence. 
 
 " My child ! my own daughter ! " he whispered to her, in 
 deep emotion. " For your father's sake, compose yourself! " 
 
 She raised her head. 
 
 Her glance met the ray of an eye which, radiant like the 
 eternal sun, gazed with infinite tenderness into hers, and spoke 
 to her the mute language of sympathy, which caused her 
 heart to tremble with unspeakable joy. " Birth and beauty 
 are not the highest boons," cried a voice in her breast, exult- 
 ingly, and her tears ceased flowing. She gazed into her 
 father's face and smiled. 
 
 The Vicomte de Montmorency now stepped up and whis- 
 pered to her : 
 
 " Make haste ; the Duchess de Polignac has just been an- 
 nounced. You must receive her at the door." 
 
 She dried her eyes and followed the hint. 
 
 " I thank you," said Necker, heaving a sigh. 
 
 M. de Montmorency remained close to her during the whole 
 evening, and whenever she seemed to be abstracted or inclined 
 to leave her post in order to chat with her intimate friends, he 
 encouraged her, by a word or glance, to persevere in the per- 
 formance of her duties ; and these little marks of sympathy on 
 his part, reconciled her to the conventional phrases which 
 seemed to her so frivolous and insipid. 
 
 At parting, .Necker whispered to her that her conduct had 
 gratified him exceedingly. She looked at him with a mournful 
 smile and sighed. 
 
 He understood this mute reply. 
 
 " It will, perhaps, be best for her if we now allow her to pub-
 
 THE YOUNG EHBASSADRESS. 201 
 
 lish her writings," he said to his wife, as they were driving 
 
 home. 
 
 " I have always been in favor of it," replied Madame .Necker. 
 
 " I was in hopes that the splendor of her new position would 
 dazzle her, and calm her passionate heart ; but such is not the 
 case. That in which her heart takes no interest leaves her 
 cold. Poor Germaine ! She has too much understanding for 
 a woman." 
 
 " And too much heart for a man," said Madame Necker, 
 smiling. 
 
 Her husband laughed. 
 
 " But still they say that she bears a strong resemblance to 
 me." 
 
 " That may be. What is called a virtue in you, becomes a 
 
 vice in us." 
 
 " Because you are destined to represent weakness." 
 " A task which I now perform very satisfactorily," she re- 
 plied, smilingly, alluding to her feeble health. 
 
 9*
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE CELEBRATED LADY. 
 
 NUMEROUS book-stalls, where all the new papers and pam- 
 phlets were kept for sale, were to be found on the ground-floor 
 of the Palais Royal. The passers-by stopped there, looked at 
 the titles of the new works, and bought copies of the periodical 
 which contained articles particularly interesting to them. The 
 public took the liveliest interest in everything that was printed, 
 and these alleys had already become a library of passions. 
 
 Count Louis de Narbonne one morning left one of these 
 stalls. He held a folded paper m his hand, and went with it to 
 the palace of the Swedish Embassador. 
 
 It was quite early yet, but as a friend of the house he was ad- 
 mitted without being announced. Since Necker's daughter had 
 married Baron de Stael, she had a writing-table of her own. 
 She needed no longer to work standing and in a hurry, inas- 
 much as her father visited her only at certain hours, when she 
 was not at liberty to occupy herself with her pen. 
 
 When Narbonne entered her room, she was writing busily ; 
 and as she was turning her back to the door, she did not no- 
 tice his arrival. So he stepped close up to her without attract- 
 ing her attention, and, looking over her shoulder, he read in a 
 loud voice, in the manuscript which she had before her : 
 " Montmorency : a tragedy in five acts. Cardinal Richelieu." 
 
 She closed the manuscript hastily, pushed it aside, and 
 turned.
 
 THE CELEBRATED LADY. 
 
 " How impertinent you are ! I knew it was you; no other 
 
 man would have done that," she exclaimed, rising from her 
 
 chair. " Such little traits of yours prove to me again and 
 
 again, Narbonne, that you are unfit to become a republican. 
 
 You want to wage war against inveterate prejudices ; but you 
 
 do not want to obey. You are averse to recognizing and 
 
 honoring a man in every individual, and it is distasteful to 
 
 you to be only a leaf on the tree. Ah, Narbonne, I wish I 
 
 could inspire you with the passion that must fill^ur whole 
 
 heart when it too ardently espouses a good cause ! It is true, 
 
 your language expresses precisely what I feel; but still it 
 
 always seems to me as if your heart is not in what you utter." 
 
 " And you overwhelm me with this flood of reproaches so 
 
 early in the morning, so unexpectedly, and so undeservedly, 
 
 mere i y _if you will permit me to say so because I rashly 
 
 read a name which, it seems to me, ia distasteful to you," he 
 
 said, smilingly fixing his fine eyes on her. 
 
 She blushed. To conceal her confusion, she seated herself, 
 and beckoned to him to take a chair beside her. He complied 
 with her hint slowly, and, meanwhile, drew the paper from 
 his pocket and unfolded it. She noticed it, and seeing that he 
 was looking for a certain passage in the paper, she asked: 
 " What is it ? What do you bring to us ? " 
 " Notwithstanding my numerous faults, and the inexcusable 
 coldness of my heart, I take some interest in the welfare of 
 my friends ; and to prove this to my esteemed Embassadress 
 I have hastened to her at the break of day in order to present 
 to her an article criticizing the letters on the character and 
 writings of Jean Jacques Rousseau." 
 
 " My God ! what docs it say ? " she exclaimed, almost faint- 
 ing with agitation, and changing her color every second. 
 " What should it say, but that you are the most gifted lady
 
 204 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 of the century ; that the profound understanding with which 
 you appreciate Rousseau, despite your youth, is something 
 truly marvelous ; that your style is excellent ; that you depict 
 the character of the great and eccentric man with no less 
 warmth than discrimination ; in short, that you are such as 
 your friends have always known you to be ; and there is only 
 one thing with which you are reproached on this occasion " 
 He hesitated to continue. 
 
 " For God's sake," she cried, trembling, " name it ; tell me 
 with what I am charged." 
 
 " That you refuse to do justice to Count Louis de Narbonne, 
 and to grant him in your heart the place which he believes to 
 deserve." 
 
 " Is that it ? " she said, drawing a deep breath, as if a heavy 
 weight had been lifted from her breast ; while she held out to 
 him her beautiful hand, which he pressed to his lips. 
 
 " You seem to make light of this charge ? " he said, re- 
 proachfully, fixing his fine eyes on her, archly. 
 
 " I reject it as unjust," she replied, merrily, " inasmuch as 
 my friendship has conceived such lofty plans for you that your 
 wings must grow before you reach the summit on which I de- 
 sire to place you." 
 
 " That I might fare like Icarus ? No, no ! The -sun of your 
 wonderful eyes has already heated me so much, that I shall 
 take good care not to approach still other sunbeams ; other- 
 wise nothing might be ere long left of me but a small heap of 
 ashes." 
 
 " The Parisian ladies would never forgive that to the sun." 
 
 " Had they not to forgive it to you ? " 
 
 " Because the sunbeams of my eyes did not consume any- 
 thing about you. You have remained the same irresistible 
 Narbonne as before."
 
 THE CELEDUATKD LADY. 
 
 205 
 
 "You are sarcastic," lie said, looking at her languislringly. 
 
 But while we have been wasting our precious time in chat- 
 tino- in this manner, you might have read the article to me," 
 she exclaimed, suddenly returning to the former subject, 
 my name mentioned in it? Does it speak of me personally ? 
 Or does it refer to me only in general terms as the author, 
 of those letters ? " 
 
 Narbonne shook his head disapprovingly. ' 
 fortunate I am to languish at the feet of a celebrated lady !' 
 he exclaimed, with ludicrous pathos. "She robs us of the 
 most beautiful moments by occupying herself with the obj 
 of her ambition, to which she refuses to raise any of I 
 
 men. 
 
 en. 
 
 You try my patience very severely, Narbonne," indignan 
 exclaimed Madame de Stael, jumping up in order to snatch the 
 paper from his hand. " So you believe, then, that it is a mat- 
 ter of no consequence to be exposed to publicity ? To have to 
 expose your defenseless breast every minute to the thousands 
 of arrows which malice may aim at it with impunity? Did 
 not my father's experience show me the high price at whi 
 suchfamehastobepurchased? Andheisaman. Itiseasytc 
 injureawoman; she cannot protect herself ; she cannot hide 
 hind deeds which slander is unable to deny. Nothing defends 
 us but our very weakness. That which renders us assailabl. 
 makes us strong, and enlists the forbearance of your sex. 
 when you wish to mortify us, you are not magnanimous. Yoi 
 seize then every weapon youcan find, and do not see the wound 
 which your cruelty enlarges a thousand times. Already I 
 the pain I shall suffer when everybody aims at this poor heart, 
 
 and even my life-blood cannot save it any longer." 
 So saying, she leaned back in her easy-chair, and closed her 
 
 eyes, from which large tears rolled down her cheeks.
 
 206 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 " Is it possible ! " cried Narbonne, dismayed at the sight of these 
 tears, which, like so many men, he could not bear, " that you 
 with your clear understanding should see ghosts in broad day- 
 light? There is not a word of censure in the whole article. 
 It lavishes the most flattering praise on you. When Necker's 
 daughter appears in the capacity of an authoress ; when she 
 writes in so lofty a spirit as these letters breathe, she will not 
 only create a sensation, but excite admiration ; and not only 
 France, but the whole world will pay homage to her. Your 
 distinguished father has reason to be proud, not only of his own 
 fame, but also of the fact that his daughter is the most gifted 
 woman on earth. That will crown his wishes." 
 
 She had raised herself up while he was speaking, and a 
 smile kindled her features. 
 
 " Ah, Narbonne," she exclaimed, " you are mistaken about 
 my father. He was averse to my obtaining any fame as an 
 authoress ; and if he encouraged me to publish my work, I be- 
 lieve he wished that literary fame should indemnify me for 
 the disappointments of my wedded life. The woman who 
 marries a man whom she does not love, is entitled to constant 
 commiseration. I should compel my daughter to choose the 
 husband whom she loves.* The wife's place is only by the 
 side of her beloved husband ; she must see the world only 
 through the eyes of her hero; her vocation, her duty, is to go 
 only arm in arm with him, and to act for him. She cannot live 
 for a principle, she cannot devote herself to a great cause, except 
 through the husband whom she has chosen. My father was 
 unable to bestow this happiness upon his daughter; so he 
 tempted her to go in search of fame." 
 
 Narbonne paced the room in great agitation. Suddenly he 
 stood still in front of her. 
 
 * "Alailiiini 1 Nrckc-i 1 ilo Suiir^ure."
 
 THE CELEBBATED LADY. 207 
 
 If we had got acquainted with one another but one year 
 before we did, our lot would have been a different one. What 
 would you not have made of mel" 
 
 She looked at him laughingly for a minute. 
 
 So it is only for that reason that you wished to have 
 known me at an earlier clay ? " she exclaimed, smilingly. " In 
 that case you will not lose anything, Narbonne ; for what your 
 friend can do for you, shall not be wanting to you. But, foi 
 my part, I should like to know a man who could make some 
 
 thing of me" 
 
 " Of you ? " he asked, wonderingly. 
 Of me," she repeated. " I want to be lifted up, and not to 
 
 lift up." 
 
 At this moment the folding-doors were thrown wid open, 
 and the footman announced, " Baron de Stael 1 " 
 
 The Swedish Embassador entered the room with a stiff, dig- 
 nified step, bowed coldly to Narbonne, and then turned to his 
 
 wife. 
 
 I have been congratulated on the fame which my wife h 
 gained as an authoress; am I at liberty to accept these con- 
 gratulations, Madame ? " 
 
 "You are, sir," replied his wife, in the same ceremomo 
 
 tone. 
 
 At any rate I hope that you will be liberally rewarded f 
 your labors," he continued, with frigid sarcasm. " After once 
 entering the ranks of the laboring classes, you are certainly 
 entitled to your wages." 
 
 The booksellers of France will pay me as liberal a salary 
 as your King gives to you, sir. The only difference is that you 
 have to serve him here, while they serve me here." 
 
 You draw a very singular parallel. But then, we learn 
 overlook a great many things you utter."
 
 208 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 He bowed as frigidly as before, and left the room. 
 
 " Ah, Narbonne,whata prejudiced world this is 1" exclaimed 
 Madame de Stael, as soon as they were alone. " Like Jean 
 Jacques Rousseau, I am no longer able to find any place on tLis 
 earth. I do not know where I belong. And since authorship 
 weighs me down, I am more at a loss than ever before. The 
 women scold me for being what all of them would be, if God 
 had endowed them with talents. What they are unable to per- 
 form, they censure in others, simply because the grapes are 
 sour. And as regards the men, they are ready and willing to 
 praise the insignificant talents of a woman ; only she must not 
 venture upon fields where they rule supreme. If we are bold 
 enough to place ourselves beside them, they instantly withdraw 
 their favor from us. Alas, it is a sad fate to be a woman ! I 
 pity my own sex profoundly. Naturally destined as we are to 
 make our happiness dependent upon the other sex, we find it to 
 consist of tyrants, and, what is still more unbearable, our love 
 enables them to rob us of honor and fame. I perceive every 
 day more and more clearly how difficult our position is toward 
 you ; especially, too, because we women refuse to stand up for 
 one another, and because every one is ready to throw a stone 
 at her sister. But a truce to complaints. I will go to my 
 father and rest on his bosom, draw from his love fresh courage 
 to live, and steel myself thereby, so as not to feel the thorns 
 hidden under the roses of female fame. Will you accompany 
 me to him, Narbonne ? " 
 
 They found Necker a prey to unusual agitation. M. de 
 Calonne, the then Minister of France, had lulled both the court 
 and the whole country, by dint of golden promises, into sweet 
 dreams, from which they were now cruelly aroused. 
 
 The Notables had been convoked, and the Minister declared 
 in his opening speech that he hud found France hopelessly
 
 THE CELEBRATED LADY. 200 
 
 lost, and had therefore not hesitated to loosen the last plank 
 from under the feet of the Government, because the emergency 
 would lead to reforms, which a large part of the nation would 
 certainly resist under different circumstances. 
 
 Hitherto, he said, every Minister, including Necker, had de- 
 ceived both the King and the people ; his Corrtpte Eendu, which 
 had excited so much admiration, was calculated only to mislead 
 the reader by its round sums. 
 
 This charge had made the most painful impression on Necker. 
 He could not bear to have his character attacked hi this man- 
 ner, and he hastened to justify himself in a reply to Calonne. 
 His daughter warned him against imprudent precipitation on 
 this occasion, inasmuch as he might be called upon to take 
 Calonne's portfolio. But he turned a deaf ear to her remon- 
 strances. 
 
 She said nothing about her own affairs, not only because the 
 above-mentioned event overshadowed them, but also because 
 she forgot herself whenever she saw her dearly- beloved father 
 a prey to pain and mortification. His affairs were soon to 
 grieve her still more intensely. 
 
 Necker presented to the King a memorial in which he proved 
 the correctness of the Compte Rendu, and at the same time 
 caused this document to be printed and circulated all over 
 Paris. This step displeased Louis the Sixteenth so much that 
 he ordered him to remove to a place at a distance of at least 
 forty leagues from the capital. 
 
 When the news of this measure reached his daughter, she 
 was perfectly beside herself. Her lamentations filled the whole 
 palace ; her servants were at a loss to know how to render her 
 assistance ; they were unable to comprehend the misfortune 
 which caused this boundless grief. Banishment was at that 
 time something so unheard-of that Madame de Stael could not
 
 210 "MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 bear the thought of seeing her beloved father endure the pun- 
 ishment of a criminal. 
 
 As soon as she had composed herself, she ordered her car- 
 riage and repaired to the house of her parents. 
 
 " I shall accompany you, father I " she said to him, as soon as 
 she caught sight of him. " Your daughter will share your exile.' 
 
 Necker looked at her in profound emotion. He knew how 
 dearly she loved Paris, how much need she had of society, how 
 difficult it would be for her to leave the friends, the daily inter- 
 course with whom was almost indispensable to her. His urgent 
 remonstrances against her making this sacrifice to him were 
 wasted : his objection that her husband would miss her, only 
 brought a mournful smile to her lips. 
 
 " M. de Stael is content if he retains the palace which we 
 inhabit," she replied, with a slight sneer. " He will not miss 
 me if I leave him the comforts of his home. But my friends 
 will now be able to prove to me if they really esteem me, by 
 visiting me in our exile." 
 
 Necker had finally to yield to her wishes, and she then has- 
 tened to prepare for her departure. 
 
 In the evening, a small circle of acquaintances assembled in 
 her room. They conversed cheerfully, and it was not until 
 the moment of parting was at hand that her heart grew heavy 
 at the thought that she might not meet them again for a long 
 time. She mournfully shook hands with all of them, and 
 nodded a parting greeting to them ; for her heart could not 
 find any words at this sad moment. Now all of them had left 
 her, except Montmorency. He stood irresolutely at the door, 
 and tried to find suitable words with which he might take leave 
 of her. Madame de Stael stood before him, pale and silent. 
 
 " Germaine ! " he said, in a low voice ; " mny I accomprmy 
 you ? "
 
 THE CELEBRATED LADY. 
 
 If my father will give you a seat in his carriage ," she re- 
 plied, in a voice tremulous with agitation, and dropping h 
 eyes in order to conceal the tears which filled them. 
 " So we shall not part yet Au revoir, then." 
 She gave him her hand, which he pressed respectfully t( 
 
 lips. 
 
 When the door closed after him, she stepped to the win 
 and listened to the rolling of his carriage. " He has stood 1 
 test," exclaimed a comforting voice in her breast, and s 
 gratefully lifted her clouded eyes to the stars. She then 
 walked a long time yet through the silent rooms, and caus 
 the memories of the pleasant hours which she had spent there 
 to pass once more through her mind, before she turned her 
 back on surroundings to which she had accustomed herself, 
 and which were therefore dear to her.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 NECKER'S RETURN TO THE CABINET. 
 
 IN a large, well-lighted room, whose windows opened upon 
 a garden, there were several persons assembled around a tall, 
 slender, and still youthful-looking lady, whose ghastly pale- 
 ness indicated that she was in very feeble health. A nervous 
 twitching of her features, and especially of her mouth, be- 
 trayed her sufferings when she did not speak. But, although 
 death had already laid his heavy finger on her forehead, she 
 might have still been called beautiful. 
 
 M. Nccker had returned to Paris in order to try a second 
 time to save the State, and his wife received this evening the 
 congratulations of her acquaintances, w T ho hastened to express 
 their satisfaction at this event. Paris, nay, the whole of 
 France, exulted with them to-day, in the hope that a new era 
 would dawn upon the suffering country. 
 
 Madame Necker smiled kindly at her husband ; for she read 
 in his eyes how greatly he rejoiced to find that his mission 
 was not yet at an end. He who has once tasted the power 
 which a vast field of action gives to the man who is able to 
 conceive and execute great plans, will hardly ever return very 
 readily and willingly to the petty cares of his own hearth. 
 
 All had seated themselves round a large round table, cov- 
 ered with a large, gold-fringed, velvet cloth. A silver chande- 
 lier with twelve branches shed its light on them. The young 
 Swedish Embassadress had chosen her favorite seat, beside her
 
 NECKER'S RETURN TO THE CABINET. 
 
 father Her radiant eyes were fixed on him while he spoke, 
 as if she wished to read his opinion in his features rather than 
 learn it from his words. 
 
 Necker was now a man of forty-five, and, therefore, at the 
 height of his intellectual strength. He seemed to be talk 
 than he really was, owing to his heavy-set form and the erect 
 manner in which he always turned his head to heaven. . 
 high angular forehead beamed with intelligence, not a wnnk] 
 was 'to be seen near his -eyes, and his whole appearance was 
 that of a man whom time has not yet touched. The glance 
 his eyes, especially when they fell on his daughter, was sc 
 gentle and tender, that too great mildness might have been as- 
 cribed to his character. Lavater consequently said that there 
 was something feminine about him, aside from his great 
 power of combination, with which the fair sex is endowed but 
 
 very rarely. 
 
 Madame Necker alone had not seated herself; for somel 
 past her feeble health had not permitted her to remain quietly at 
 the same spot. So she wandered from one of her guests to the 
 other and sought to enliven the conversation by pleasant 
 sallies and striking remarks, and to give direction in keeping 
 with the spirit and inclination of the visitors. 
 
 Madame de Stael had not yet acquired this art. Endowed 
 with the wannest of hearts, she always remained too much 
 a child of the moment to choose her words cautiously before 
 they escaped her lips ; and, without intending to offend others, 
 she did so in a thousand little ways, before she herself was 
 aware of it. Such was the case to-day, too. 
 
 She had just begun to relate the story of the portrait of 
 Charles the First, which Count d'Artois had secretly put into 
 the King's room on the day when Necker had advised the 
 King to convoke the States-General. She entirely overlooked
 
 214 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 for the moment the fact that this anecdote could not be very 
 agreeable to her father's ears. Carried away by the subject, as 
 was always the case with her, she related the occurrence with 
 the utmost animation, which was even enhanced when she de- 
 picted the blindness of the members of the royal family, who 
 regarded as fatal a measure which was proposed only for their 
 salvation, and would have certainly led to it, if they, instead 
 of submitting to the stern voice of necessity, had taken the step 
 of their own accord. 
 
 " My father alone showed them the road to salvation," added 
 the young Embassadress, in a loud voice. " And what do you 
 believe Count d'Artois did when he found that his hint was 
 disregarded ? He caused the picture to be removed from the 
 King's room, and had placed in its stead a copper-plate, repre- 
 senting the execution of Charles the First." 
 
 " What did the King say to it?" inquired Marmontel. 
 
 " Nothing. He disregarded the second hint, too. But is it 
 not strange that ignorance, nay, stupidity, should be coupled 
 with so much audacity ? " 
 
 Here she was interrupted by the entrance of a new guest. 
 The footman announced the Marquise de Sillery, and the 
 Countess de Genlis entered the room. 
 
 There was a general pause. 
 
 Madame Necker went to meet her, took her by the hand, 
 and conducted her to a seat, where she conversed with her in 
 the most polite and amiable manner. Madame de Stael did 
 not follow her example. She rose and joined a group of gen- 
 tlemen. Since she had visited the celebrated lady at Belle 
 CliasBe, her opinion about Madame de Genlis had undergone a 
 marked change. At that time her mother had taken her to 
 the chateau in order to present her to the authoress of " Adele 
 and Theodore," a book which had just filled her with the
 
 STECKEB'S BETUBET TO THE CABINET. 
 
 liveliest enthusiasm, and made her desirous of paying to tha 
 authoress the tribute of her heartfelt admiration. Wit! 
 much enthusiasm had Germaine bowed to the celebrated 
 and kissed the hand to which she was indebted for so many 
 delightful hours. The years which had gone by since 
 had cooled this ardor. 
 
 Madame de Genlis had publicly spoken with much bitterness 
 of the Necker family, and had frequently censured its members. 
 Her remarks were communicated to those at whom they were 
 aimed, and Madame de Stael had not forgotten them, 
 easily forgave personal insults; she knew neither hatred nor 
 revenge when she herself was concerned ; but such was not the 
 case when her parents were attacked and insulted. Aninjusti 
 done them, wounded her too deeply to ever be forgotten agam. 
 She therefore, now took her father's arm, and caused him t 
 participate in the conversation into which she had entered. 
 Without being beautiful, she seemed to be so to-day, 
 wore a plain black-velvet dress, which set off her beaut, 
 arms and hands to great advantage ; her eyes beamed witl 
 ial love and ardent enthusiasm for all that is good and beaut 
 ful- and youth with its hopefulness and happiness shed over 
 everything that inimitable charm which later years never arc 
 able to assume. She was to-day the archetype of Corinne. 
 
 The conversation between Madame de Genlis and Madame 
 Necker had meanwhile become quite animated, and Voltaire' 
 name fell on Germaine's ears. Dominated, as usual, by the im- 
 pulses of the moment, Madame de Stael was anxious to know 
 W hat the two ladies were speaking of, and she immediately ap- 
 proached them in order to listen to their conversation. 
 
 Madame de Genlis seemed to be greatly excited, her beaut, 
 eyes were radiant, and her quivering features showed that t 
 eubject of the conversation was by no means indifferent
 
 216 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 her. Madame Necker, in her plain white dress without any 
 ornaments, gentle and well-poised in tone and bearing, pre- 
 sented ijQt every respect a marked contrast to the distinguished 
 lady who was standing before her, and dissented from an 
 opinion which Madame Necker had uttered in regard to the 
 illustrious author of the Hcnriade. 
 
 " You say that Voltaire was simple-minded," said Madame 
 de Genlis ; " that assertion is at variance with what I saw 
 about him at Ferney, especially with that abominable picture 
 in which he sits enthroned in the clouds, while his feet rest on 
 a number of persons who incurred his displeasure. He hung 
 this abominable daub in his study, and banished a magnificent 
 Correggio to the ante-room, where no sunbeam could fall on it. 
 Ott, the German painter, was with me at Ferney. He saw 
 that abomination, too. Do you call that simple-minded ? " 
 
 " You have misunderstood me, Madame," replied Madame 
 Necker. " When I said simple-minded, I meant that he was 
 natural and unaffected. To prove this assertion, permit me 
 to read to you a letter which he wrote to me in regard to his 
 statue." 
 
 She hastened into the adjoining room and returned pres- 
 ently with a letter, which she read aloud. It was as follows : 
 
 " I am sixty years old, Madame, and have scarce^ recov- 
 ered from a dangerous malady. M. Pigalle, I have been told, 
 is to take a cast of my face ; but, Madame, is it not, first of all, 
 necessary for that purpose that I should have a face ? You 
 would now scarcely find the place where it formerly was ; my 
 eyes lie three inches deep in their sockets ; my cheeks resem- 
 ble old parchment thrown loosely over my bones ; and my few 
 teeth are loose in my mouth. What I tell you here is not an 
 expression of my vanity, but simply the truth. Never has a 
 man in my condition sat to a sculptor ; M. Pigalle would
 
 NECKEK'S RETUBN TO THE CABINET. 217 
 
 think that we intended to mock him, and I must confess that 
 
 my self-respect does not permit me to expose myself in this 
 
 condition to his view," etc. 
 " Now," asked Madame Necker, after reading these lines, 
 
 the man who wrote these lines, I should think, must have 
 
 been entirely exempt from vanity." 
 " I am sorry to say," replied Madame de Genlis, smiling, 
 
 " that you have not converted me yet. I regret to differ with 
 
 you, be'cause I esteem you too highly not to derive the utmost 
 
 satisfaction from a concurrence of our views ; but this time I 
 
 am unable to change my opinion." 
 
 She said this in such an amiable and polite manner that 
 
 Madame Necker, who felt quite flattered, offered her hand to 
 Madame de Genlis, as if to bring about a reconciliation, and 
 begged her to forget their little quarrel. 
 
 Considering my admiration of every great talent, you must 
 forgive me for warmly espousing the cause of absent persons, 
 and still more that of the dead," she said, kindly. Le* ahunt* 
 out loujours tort. Death strengthens every friendship, inas- 
 much as it immortalizes the virtues of the person who is deai 
 to us ; it immortalizes them at least in our hearts." * 
 
 " We may be content if we leave such friends behind," po- 
 litely replied Madame de Genlis, approaching the door, in ac- 
 cordance with the custom prevailing at that period, as quietly 
 as possible, in order to leave the room without disturbing the 
 
 company. 
 
 As soon as the door had closed after her, several persons, es 
 pecially Madame de Stael, began to censure her in unmeasured 
 terms. They laughed at Madame de Genlis' visit to Fcrney, 
 and at the reception with which she had met at the hands of 
 the Patriarch. All the world was familiar with the particulara 
 
 * " Melanges de Madame Necker." 
 10
 
 218 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 of this curious scene, and everybody took pains to deride the 
 lady by commenting on it sarcastically. 
 
 " How could Voltaire receive so illustrious a lady without 
 shedding tears of profound emotion ? " said one. 
 
 " Did she not wear ostrich plumes ? " asked another. 
 
 " Which fell from her head as she had to go on foot up the 
 long alley," said a third. 
 
 " But, if I am not mistaken, he kissed her." 
 
 " Yes, but rather coldly ; what good did his kiss do her 
 then?" 
 
 "How could he remain unmoved when she was accom- 
 panied by Ott, the German, who is said to be a celebrated 
 painter," interposed Madame de Stael. 
 
 Madame Necker said nothing, but glanced reproachfully at 
 her daughter. She disapproved this tone, and could not bear 
 to see society revenge itself in this manner on an absent per- 
 son. " If death should overtake a person in this occupation," 
 she would say, " with what face would he appear in eternity ? " 
 
 M. Necker knew his wife* too well not to perceive that this 
 conversation was distasteful to her, and, always anxious to 
 shield her from painful impressions, he adroitly managed to 
 break off this conversation. 
 
 " Madame de Genlis is perfectly justified in complaining of 
 Voltaire," he said. " What did Raynal say in his sermon ? 
 The truths of Christianity are so self-evident that Jupiter him- 
 self would have been converted if he had heard them." 
 
 " Excellent ! " exclaimed Madame de Stael. " Excellent ! 
 Our dear Raynal would have robbed us by his eloquence of the 
 whole Olympus, if the gods had been his contemporaries. I<e 
 Silence du Peuple est la Lefon des Hois! How astonished his 
 audience must have been at such striking arguments. The 
 hurler of thunderbolts a penitent of the Abbe Raynal ! "
 
 NECKER'S RETDRX TO THE CABINET. 219 
 
 " The ruler of Olympus \vcukl have burdened his discreet 
 ears with a rather long list of sins," said Necker, smiling. 
 
 " But we must not forget that Jupiter had delayed his con- 
 fession a long time," remarked his wife, who was very glad of 
 the turn which the conversation had taken. " This reminds 
 me of the old lady who came to Fontenelle and addressed 
 him as follows, ' Well monsieur, we still live 1' ' Hush,' said 
 Fontenelle, laying his finger on his lips, ''let us say no more 
 about it, Madame ; they have forgotten us.' " 
 
 " That would not be so bad," exclaimed Marmontel, laugh- 
 ing. " It would not be so disagreeable to me to play at hide- 
 and-seek with death. I do not say, like Maupertuis, that I am 
 as pale as death, and as sad as life. I still like this world, de- 
 spite its imperfections." 
 
 " Your appearance shows that very plainly," replied Necker, 
 casting a jocular glance on his corpulent figure. " But this 
 reminds me of a still better anecdote. A Capuchin preached 
 one day on the marvels of nature. ' My brethren,' he said, 
 'you wonder at many tilings, while others that are by far 
 more important seem not to affect you at all. Thus, for in- 
 stance, you admire the sun, and appreciate the moon but very 
 little ; and yet the latter sheds her rays over you when the 
 darkness of night would frighten you; while the sun shines 
 only in broad daylight.' His hearers thenceforth treated the 
 moon more justly than before." 
 
 " The Capuchin was a savant," exclaimed Madame de Stael. 
 " "We ought to have made him acquainted with Buffon." 
 
 " Great errors always go hand in hand," interposed Madame 
 Necker. " Do you not know the story of the drunkard who 
 invited a guest, and, wondering why he did not touch the bot- 
 tle, asked him why he did not drink? 'Because I am not 
 thirsty,' replied his guest. ' In what, way do you differ, then,
 
 220 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 from the animals which drink only when thirst torments 
 them ? ' Of course he was unable to answer that question." 
 
 " I think so, too," said Necker. " The man was right, 
 although he was wrong. He reminds me of Buffon, who knows 
 the universe, but not the world. Now, the more extensive our 
 knowledge, the more easily do we reach those limits where we 
 are unable to make replies." 
 
 " Or shall not get any either," interrupted his daughter. 
 " When God gave reason to man, he called upon him to battle 
 with truth and for truth. Providence, therefore, has laid into 
 our hearts all necessary incentives to research and investigation. 
 It wants us to be inquisitive and active. It may be imposed 
 on us for the welfare of all to risk our thoughts, our most pre- 
 cious capital, in a great cause; but it is difficult to find and 
 rivet in the labyrinth of our mind the point which marks the 
 truth ; hence, we say, to err is human." 
 
 Her eyes were radiant ; she raised them in her enthusiasm to 
 the ceiling, and seemed to have entirely forgotten her surround- 
 ings. Her father drew her gently to him, and gazed at her with 
 a tender expression. 
 
 "As with truth, so it is with our happiness," she continued. 
 " All of us seek it, and who would confess that he has found 
 it? There are on earth still many flowers which we arc 
 destined to gather ; but the most beautiful flower is withheld 
 from us ; its color is red, deep red, and its name is love." 
 
 She had uttered these words as if absently. Suddenly a deep 
 blush mantled her cheeks; she turned her eyes in great confu- 
 sion toward M. de Narbonue, whose glance she caught, and, as 
 if ashamed of herself, concealed her face on her father's breast. 
 
 Madame Necker knit her beautiful brows slightly. 
 
 " You have not yet redeemed your promise, M. Murmontel," 
 she said, turning to the poet, " to recite tp us the beautiful ode
 
 NECKER'S RETURN TO THE CABINET. 221 
 
 which j*ou have written on the death of Leopold, Duke of 
 Brunswick, who perished in the waters of the Oder." 
 
 " Pray excuse me," replied the poet. " I assure you I have 
 forgotten the lines." 
 
 " Oh, Marmontel, how could you permit your memory this 
 perfidy in regard to so beautiful a subject ? " interposed Madame 
 cle Stael. " The deed of that Prince is so great and noble, that 
 a crown would have henceforth been an inadequate ornament 
 to his brow. What a great heart of his it was that impelled 
 him to plunge into the waters of the raging river in order to 
 rescue two victims ! And this great heart had grown up in the 
 shade of peace ! When Caesar entered a boat and braved the 
 howling storm, he was on his way to Rome, the mistress of 
 the world. He risked his life on the waves on which he might 
 win a throne. But Leopold of Brunswick ! Wheat was beck- 
 oning to him when he plunged into the Oder? Only two poor 
 wretches who stretched out their arms toward him. He heard 
 their cries, and the noble young man braved the perilous 
 storm without asking if he should have to do so alone. And 
 he did so alone. His hands were full of gold ; he offered it to 
 the bystanders. Oh Marmontel, Marmontel, pray recite your 
 verses ! " 
 
 All had listened to her with growing agitation. The profound 
 emotion depicted on her features, the tears gushing from her 
 radiant eyes, had added to the excitement of the guests ; and 
 when she now paused, she trembled with inward emotion, and 
 none of her hearers were able to make immediately a suitable 
 reply. Madame de Stael had risen while she was speaking ; 
 now she seated herself again beside her father, leaned her head 
 thoughtfully on his shoulder, and was absorbed in the remem- 
 brance of the event which had taken place but a few weeks 
 ago. When she looked up, she met her mother's eye, whose
 
 222 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 disapproving expression made a painful impression on her 
 She dropped her eyes and left her seat. M. de Montmorency 
 followed her, and pressed her hands to his lips with an expres- 
 sion of ardent admiration. She sighed. 
 
 " You know what it is to sacrifice one's self to a great idea," 
 she said. " Men find satisfaction and happiness in them. But 
 I have need of love, fervent love, and all around me is so cold," 
 she added, in a low voice. 
 
 Her mother's manner and peculiarities weighed her down all 
 the time ; they impeded her at every word, at every step in 
 her life-path ; and, although her position had now seemingly 
 become an independent one, her heart constantly yearned for 
 her father, who alone loved and understood her, as she wished 
 to be loved and understood, but who, like herself, in his con- 
 duct toward his wife, had to submit to certain restraints which 
 were the more painful to him as he felt that they grieved his 
 child. 
 
 Three of the most excellent persons who highly esteemed 
 and tenderly loved one another were unable to find in their 
 domestic circle that happiness which beckoned to none of 
 them without. It is not circumstances that render us happy 
 and contented ; it is not wealth or poverty that gnaw at the 
 peace of our heart ; but the source from which our happiness 
 springs lies hidden in the inmost recesses of that heart. We 
 may change our relations to men, but we cannot change our- 
 selves. 
 
 Supper was now announced. How often had this message 
 already made peace between the contending parties, especially 
 when they talked politics, which was now but too often the 
 case. Madame Necker was decidedly averse to these excited 
 discussions in her salon; she would not allow the ladies to par- 
 ticipate in that which should have engrossed the thoughts of
 
 NECKER'S RETURN TO THE CABINET. 223 
 
 the men alone. Madame cle Stael, however, took the liveliest 
 interest in them ; a worthy pupil of Rousseau, she was an en 
 thusiastic advocate of the liberty and happiness of the people; 
 her great heart would not acquiesce in the idea that power 
 and right were inseparable, and that only those had to obey 
 the laws who were unable to defy them. Justice for all, was 
 her motto. 
 
 Champagne sparkled in the glasses ; witticisms were uttered 
 here and there ; the guests chatted merrily about theaters, litera- 
 ture, and art ; they called Shakespeare a barbarian, and pro- 
 nounced his dramatic works coarse and in bad taste ; while 
 " Attila" was praised as a master-piece of poetical genius; and 
 hi the meantime the pale and beautiful lady of the house 
 moved around the table like a fragrant shade, dropping a word 
 now here, and now there, and always taking pains to keep the 
 conversation within the bounds of etiquette and propriety. 
 
 Madame Necker recited the description of a character, and 
 the guests had to guess who it was that was thus portrayed an 
 exceedingly popular pastime at that period. Usually a mem- 
 ber of the company was selected for this purpose, and adorned 
 in the most flattering manner with many virtues. Several per- 
 sons then improvised and offered toasts. Marmontel displayed 
 his brilliant talents on such occasions to great advantage ; the 
 word champagne being proposed to him, he immediately im- 
 provised the following lines : 
 
 1 Champagne, ami de la folie, 
 Fais qu'un moment Necker J'oublie, 
 Comme en buvant faisait Caton ; 
 Ce sera le jour de la gloire : 
 Tu n'as jamais sur la raison 
 Gagne de plus belle victoire." 
 
 All praised him, laughed at the clever allusion, and drank 
 to Necker's return to the Cabinet.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE WINTER OP 1788. 
 
 THE winter of the year 1788 was at hand. An exceedingly 
 dry summer was followed by short crops and hard times. The 
 Government offered liberal prizes for the importation of grain, 
 and stimulated it by all means at its command. The Seine 
 froze over already on the 26th of November, and Reaumur's 
 thermometer was at 18% degrees below zero. 
 
 The oldest inhabitant could not call to mind a winter of 
 equal severity and duration. 
 
 The high price of bread caused more and more discontent ; 
 several riots took place, and the police had to interfere very 
 often, and to protect the bakers from violence. Such was the 
 general dissatisfaction that everybody was intent on exposing 
 abuses, and nobody showed the necessary patience to wait for 
 the introduction of reforms. 
 
 Necker had not returned to the cabinet in a joyous and 
 hopeful spirit. He now came to his daughter with a clouded 
 brow. She discovered his depression at a glance. He sank 
 exhausted into an arm-chair, and rubbed his hands before the 
 blazing fire in the fire-place. 
 
 His daughter seated herself beside him. 
 
 "This abominable distrust!" he now burst forth. "The 
 King has appointed me Minister against his will, which he lets 
 me feel now at every step, and Marie Antoinette even insists 
 on being present at the sittings of the Cabinet. If France is to
 
 THE WINTER OF 1788. 225 
 
 obtain relief in this manner, her prospects are extremely 
 gloomy." 
 
 " I told you already that the Queen received me more fri- 
 gidly than ever before," replied Madame de Stael ; " and, to 
 add to my mortification, she even prefers M. de Brienne'a 
 daughter to me in the most offensive manner. It is evident 
 that she detests us." 
 
 " It is very unfortunate for her that she does. If she had 
 confidence in me, how much useful advice I might have given 
 her ! At all events, I should have told her the truth. The 
 people now loudly call her Madame Deficit, and unjustly 
 charge her with having brought about the enormous indebted- 
 ness of the country. That unfortunate necklace affair had 
 made her already exceedingly unpopular ; but the people now 
 dislike her more than ever before. Last Sunday the boys 
 shouted under her windows : ' We are going to St. Cloud, in 
 order to see the fountains and T Autrichienne? The King is in 
 a perfect tempest of perplexity. In his rage he has already 
 broken several chairs, but no bright idea hs occurred to him 
 yet. He is unable to adapt himself to the spirit of the times. 
 He sees the people shake the royal prerogatives, and perceives 
 also that the nimbus which formerly surrounded the nobility 
 of birth has vanished; and the prospect frightens him." 
 
 "Because he has been blind so long," exclaimed Madame 
 de Stael. " Did he not himself, both in Holland and America, 
 arm subjects against their sovereigns ? And now he is sur- 
 prised to see that the people of his own country at length 
 awake to consciousness, and that those who hitherto were 
 slaves, rise to the dignity of freemen. I cannot tell you how 
 glad I am that the States-General are to meet next May." 
 
 " You are aware that I do not share your opinion in this re- 
 spect," said Necker. " In order not to forfeit the confidence
 
 226 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 of the people, I could not oppose a measure which my prede- 
 cessor had proposed. But I am afraid of the consequences. 
 The people of France are not, like that of England, capable of 
 self-government. As a nation it is too young ; it is still in the 
 leading-strings. Every form of government, moreover, has its 
 advantages, provided it performs what it promises. With 
 honest men at the helm, the Ship of State will always remain 
 in the right channel." 
 
 " But what if the honest men are wanting ? In that event 
 we must be protected by a constitution, and I hope we are 
 now in a fair way of securing the welfare of France by legisla- 
 tive means." 
 
 " You are hopeful because you see the difficulties only at a 
 distance. A Minister's daughter shares only the advantages 
 of his position.* She basks in the sunshine of his power ; but 
 that power at this juncture imposes a terrible responsibility on 
 his head. I do not see how I can be useful to France under 
 the present circumstances ; I think that honesty is the best 
 policy, and I detest^rooked ways ; and yet, in a struggle with po- 
 litical faction, it is advisable not to disdain the means by which 
 we might secure the assistance of their leaders. My aversion 
 to such a policy cannot but lead to my downfall. Ah, why 
 did they not give me the fifteen months of the Archbishop of 
 Sens ! f Now it is too late." 
 
 "It cannot be too late," exclaimed Madame de Stael, 
 warmly. " I have confidence as long as you are at the helm 
 of government. Only you yourself must not lose heart." 
 
 "When I resigned my portfolio the first time, I censured my- 
 self severely for the step, inasmuch as I knew that no one was 
 able to replace me. Now, many persons might act more vig- 
 
 * " Madame de Stael : Consideration sur la Revolution." 
 t Necker's own words.
 
 THE WINTER OF 1788, 227 
 
 orously in my place. I lack confidence, and hence, also, the 
 strength to carry ray views into execution. Last night I re- 
 flected a great deal as to what satisfied men ; and I found that, 
 at bottom, only stupid persons are happy. When I have 
 again leisure to live for myself, I shall complete my essay on 
 the happiness of blockheads.* Stupid persons really still 
 wear the garb in which God clad Adam and Eve in Paradise; 
 the cloak under which they hid their nakedness were the 
 pleasant illusions, the sweet confidence and self-opinion which 
 we censure now because we do not appreciate their value. 
 A stupid man is never guided by experience ; even though he 
 should reach an age of two hundred years, he would still see 
 the world in the same rose-colored light. He draws no infer- 
 ences, follows up neither cause nor effect, does not look be- 
 yond his nose, and looks forward to the future with the noaeete 
 of a child. 
 
 " Stupid persons never doubt their own strength and saga- 
 city. They are inaccessible to the ideas of others, stick obstin- 
 ately to their views, and pass opinions on everything with 
 the utmost promptness, because it seems to them that every- 
 thing has but one side. 
 
 " Hence, stupidity is a source of great happiness, and a con- 
 siderable advantage. But when the slightest idea about the 
 true sources of his happiness occurs to the stupid man, his 
 happiness is at an end, his self-love is disturbed, and he will 
 never again repose any confidence in himself. He is then a 
 very wretched creature." 
 
 Madame de Stael burst into loud laughter at this serio-comic 
 definition. 
 
 " In truth, I almost wish I could get rid of what little un- 
 derstanding I possess," she exclaimed, merrily ; " because it de- 
 * -'Le Bonheurdes Sots." Necker's sprightly essay.
 
 228 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 prives me of so many joys; but, above all things, I should like 
 to make the very embodiment of stupidity Prime-Minister of 
 France, in order that a man of true self-reliance might be at 
 the head of government. But I am afraid the capitalists 
 would not throw their money into his lap, nor would stocks 
 rise thirty per cent, twenty-four hours after his appointment. 
 Such an event occurs but once in history, and fortunately I 
 was the daughter of the man in whom this extraordinary con- 
 fidence was reposed." 
 
 Keeker, greatly pleased with this clever little flattery, smiled, 
 and held out his hand to his daughter, who pressed it warmly 
 to her lips. 
 
 " Now I have to communicate yet a singular event to you," 
 he said. " You are aware people said that the gifted Bishop 
 of Autun had assisted Minister Calonne in his labors ; and 
 others said that he was the author of an excellent pamphlet 
 defending my Compte Rendu. What surprised me in regard to 
 the latter, was the fact that the pamphlet in question was sent 
 to me anonymously, while the Bishop of Autun at the same 
 time caused me to be asked if I would permit him to make 
 my acquaintance. I must confess that I was anxious to see 
 the versatile man. Well, then, this morning, accompanied by 
 Condbrcet, he called at my office." 
 
 " And what impression did he make on you ? Did you like 
 him ? " asked his daughter, eagerly. 
 
 " I am glad I was a man," replied Necker, with a sarcastic 
 smile; " for his reputation is by no means undeserved. Pre- 
 possessing and gifted as M. de Narbonne is, Talleyrand eclipses 
 him in every respect. I have invited him to dinner. So you 
 will be able to get acquainted with him." 
 
 " I must confess that I am anxious to do so," replied Mad- 
 ame de Stael. " A young Bishop who, to all appearance, ia
 
 THE WINTER OF 1788. 229 
 
 engaged only in stealing the hearts of the ladies, suddenly 
 meddles with financial affairs. That is very singular indeed." 
 
 " And that is not all. He spoke very gravely about our po- 
 litical affairs, and dwelt on the necessity of curtailing the pre- 
 rogatives of the clergy and nobility. Inasmuch as he com- 
 bines both classes in his person, and cannot but lose heavily if 
 we curtail their privileges, his disinterestedness astonished me 
 beyond measure." 
 
 " Nor do I repose any confidence hi such disinterestedness," 
 exclaimed Madame de Stael. 
 
 " And yet Lafayette has shown that one may honestly prefer 
 the welfare of the people to one's own interest." 
 
 " The exception here only proves the rule. I am sure Mont- 
 morency is animated by the same spirit. He wants merit alone 
 to mark the various grades of society." 
 
 " I think St. Jerome was right in saying that wealth alone 
 was the origin of nobility ; and it is certainly a hazardous un- 
 dertaking to dig new beds to the rivers," said Necker, gravely. 
 " But the everlasting discussion of this question will lead to 
 nothing. We are unable to create new social relations by 
 laws and revolutions ; they must spring up from the ground ; 
 and if the soil is healthy, the fruit will be in keeping with it. 
 First let us regulate the disordered state of our finances and 
 give bread to our people, and then we shall see about further 
 reforms." 
 
 He rose. His daughter accompanied him to the ante-room, 
 and, at parting, promised to dine with him. 
 
 M. de Stael did not accompany her to the house of her 
 parents. He dined with M'lle Clairon, for whom he had pur- 
 chased a very fine villa, which he had not yet paid for. 
 His wife being very wealthy, he spent her money very freely, 
 until Necker finally put an end to his extravagance. Ger-
 
 230 MADAME 1>E STAEL. 
 
 maiue did not find an affectionate protector in her much older 
 husband; she had to pursue her path alone through the bustle 
 and commotion of Parisian life, where at this juncture no head 
 was any longer in its right place, and all minds had fallen a 
 prey to a fermentation which mixed up all ideas prevalent up 
 to that time in a motley chaos. 
 
 The young Bishop of Autun was introduced to the Swedish 
 Embassadress. A certain apathy which characterized his 
 whole being was to be noticed, too, in the somewhat languid 
 expression of his blue eyes, as he fixed them searchingly on 
 the face of Madame de Stael, of whose talents he had heard 
 the most enthusiastic accounts. In fact, after the appearance 
 of her work on Rousseau, no one ventured any longer to ques- 
 tion her ability, and many persons now visited Necker's house 
 only for the purpose of getting acquainted with his daughter. 
 It was suspected that the young bishop had caused himself to 
 be introduced to the Minister for the same reason ; the expres- 
 sion of his face, however, did not betray this desire. With 
 that reserve of manner which imparts an indisputable superi- 
 ority to men who are able to assume it, he addressed a few 
 polite words to the young Embassadress, and, when they were 
 about to go to the dinner-table, he courteously, but rather 
 coldly, offered her his arm. 
 
 " You dislike my class, and I venture to seat myself beside 
 you," he said, with his half sarcastic, half malicious smile, which 
 added to the prepossessing expression of his face, while his 
 delicate white hands coquettishly unfolded his napkin. 
 
 "You are mistaken," she replied, fixing her radiant dark 
 eyes on him, as if she wished to penetrate the inmost recesses 
 of his heart. " Every class has legitimate claims to recogni- 
 tion; only it must not attempt to over-step the bounds set 
 to it."
 
 THE WINTER OF 1788. 231 
 
 " Well, did I do so ? " he asked, fixing his fine eyes on her. 
 
 " My remark was not a personal one," she replied, evasively 
 because she deemed an allusion to his love affairs unbecoming. 
 " I spoke as the daughter of a statesman. The people is very 
 severe in its criticisms of priests and soldiers.* It demands that 
 both of them should scrupulously perform their duties. Sol- 
 diers are expected to be brave, and clergymen are required to 
 be pious ; these classes derive from these qualities the respect 
 that was paid to them ; and they forfeited it by no longer be- 
 ing brave and pious. Hence, both the nobility and the church 
 have lost most of their former authority." 
 
 " That is the reason why I have joined the third estate," re- 
 plied the Bishop, with a significant smile. 
 
 " But, it seems to me, without renouncing the other two." 
 
 " La moitie vaut miewx que le taut, is my motto." 
 
 " And mine is to devote myself entirely to every truth." 
 
 " What a tempting prospect for the man on whom you will 
 bestow your affections." 
 
 "It is true, I am warmly attached to my friends, and am 
 constant in my devotion to them, inasmuch as I know why I 
 love them. Our mutual affections are not blind." 
 
 " One might expect that of your understanding, but should, 
 at the same time, be afraid of your penetration." 
 
 " I am not very rigorous toward others. Only he who 
 wishes to hold intercourse with me, must not be entirely desti- 
 tute of mind. In that case, I can get acquainted with him in 
 a day, as well as in ten years." 
 
 " Your words fill me both with hopes and fears. At all 
 events, it is best for us to be executed immediately, when the 
 sword hangs once over our heads." 
 
 " What do you want me to reply to this remark ? " 
 * " Considerations sur la Kcvolution Fran?aise."
 
 232 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 " Whether you will receive me, or close your door to me." 
 
 " The latter would be something new to the admired Bishop 
 of Autun," she said, laughing ; " and, even though I should 
 not, injure myself by taking such a step, I should like to do so 
 in the interest of my whole sex. But where our self-love L 
 concerned, justice is not always triumphant" 
 
 " The flattering result of your decision fills me with just 
 pride," he replied, gratified at what he had just heard. " I 
 shall humbly lay my thanks at your feet." 
 
 " So you intend to stay here in Paris, M. de Talleyrand ? " 
 
 " At least for the present." 
 
 " I can imagine that you have always longed to go to the 
 capital," she exclaimed. " It is only here that men live, while 
 the rest of the world seems to vegetate. I pity every talented 
 man who is not permitted to participate in solving the great 
 problems which the times propose to us. By the way, have 
 you read my father's new work, ' Sur V Importance des Opini- 
 ons ReUgicusesf It is a wonderful book. The seven years 
 of his exile were not fruitless ; he has turned them to account 
 like a sage, and devoted himself to the welfare of humanity 
 like a youth. Had it been possible for me to admire and love 
 him still more, his self-abnegation could not but have en- 
 hanced these feelings of my heart. To belong to the best and 
 noblest of men is such an exalted happiness, that I should be 
 an ingrate if I should quarrel about other things w.ith fate, 
 which, in this respect, has blessed me too richly riot to grudge 
 me other blessings from its cornucopia." 
 
 " But I am unable to see that any blessings are wanting to 
 you," said her neighbor ; " you seem to be a favorite of fortune 
 in every respect." 
 
 Madame de Stael sighed. 
 
 " I am a woman," she said, sadly. " Our sex does not exist
 
 THE WINTER OF 1788. 233 
 
 for Its own sake ; it is our task to win the love of men who 
 never bestow their whole heart upon us. Now, we are happy 
 only if we are loved as dearly as we love. All other ends of 
 life are, to us, mere palliatives, by which we assuage our grief, 
 soothe our heart, and silence our rebellious desires." 
 
 " You can never be justified in practicing this kind of resig- 
 nation," replied the fine-looking prelate, with a significant 
 glance. 
 
 " But I am compelled to do so," she cried, mournfully 
 " Nor could it be otherwise. I did not choose my creed, I did 
 not select the relations by which my life-path was to be regu- 
 lated, and the cold word duty written over the gate leading to 
 my happiness. Providence indemnified me by giving me my 
 father. May it not frown on me for longing to have received 
 other boons, too, at its hands ! " 
 
 " It indemnifies us for everything," said the young Bishop, 
 significantly. 
 
 " It gives us no compensation for a clear conscience, such as 
 Calvin's teachings require of us," she replied, gravely ; and M. 
 de Talleyrand dropped his eyes before the stern glance of hers.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE PEOCESSION. 
 
 ON the 4th of May, 1789, the sun rose radiantly over the city 
 of Louis the Fourteenth. All France was in Paris, and Paris 
 was in Versailles. The States-General were to be opened next 
 day, and it had been determined that a religious solemnity of 
 imposing character and common prayer should prepare the 
 minds of all for this momentous event. The day was very 
 fine, and the splendor that was displayed on this occasion had 
 never been equaled before. But what constituted the gran- 
 deur of the spectacle, were not the crowded and sunny streets, 
 not the glittering lines of bayonets, not the beautiful ladies as- 
 sembled at the windows, not the rich draperies floating from 
 the balconies, not the grave voices of the priests, not the peals 
 of the bells ascending to heaven amidst the flourish of the 
 trumpet, the roll of the drums, and the loud shouts of the offi- 
 cers no, the most impressive and novel feature of the cere- 
 mony was the language that was used throughout the city, 
 the drift of the remarks which passers-by exchanged every- 
 where, the animation of all faces, the proud expression of all 
 glances, the unwonted self-consciousness of everybody's bear- 
 ing, the feverish excitement of the minds, and the manly and 
 impressive agitation and solicitude of a nation visited by 
 liberty.* 
 
 At the appointed hour the Three Estates left Notre Dame in 
 order to repair in solemn procession to the Church of St. 
 * Louis Blanc.
 
 THE PROCESSION. 235 
 
 Louis, and the multitude hastened up from all quarters to wit- 
 ness the imposing spectacle. 
 
 Madame de Stael stood at a window beside Madame da 
 Montmorin, the wife of the Minister of Foreign Affairs, and 
 gave the reins to her joy at the fact that the representatives of 
 the French people had at length been convoked. 
 
 Madame de Montmorin listened to her a long time in silence, 
 and finally replied to her gravely. 
 
 " It is very wrong in you to rejoice to-day ; this day will 
 bring terrible calamities upon France and upon us." * 
 
 Madame de Stael, deeply moved by these words, made no re- 
 ply for several moments. She looked inquiringly at the Min- 
 ister's wife ; but it was not written on her features that she 
 would ascend the scaffold with one of her sons, that the other 
 would drown himself, and that her husband would be slain 
 during the September massacre. 
 
 The procession meanwhile moved past. It was headed by 
 the Franciscans and the clergy of Versailles, in whose midst 
 marched the band of the royal chapel. Then followed 
 the deputies of the commons. They were dressed in plain 
 black cloaks ; but the firmness of their step, and their calm, 
 dignified bearing, showed sufficiently that they represented the 
 bones and sinews of the nation. 
 
 Next came the deputies of the nobility, resplendent with 
 their rich embroideries, white plumes, and costly laces ; and 
 then, separated from the bishops in surplice and camail, the 
 plebeians of the Church the curates. 
 
 The King and Queen accompanied the Host which the 
 Archbishop of Paris carried under a magnificent baldachin, 
 the strings of which were held by the Counts of Provence and 
 Artois, and the Dukes of AngoulSme and Berry. 
 * "Madame de Stael : Sur la Revolution."
 
 236 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 Marie Antoinette looked very pale ; and when no popular 
 acclamations greeted her, but only shouts of " Orleans for 
 ever ! " were heard, an expression of disdain quivered round 
 her beautiful lips, and, in order not to sink to the ground, she 
 had to seize the arm of the Princess de Lainballes. 
 
 " Poor woman ! " exclaimed Madame de Stael, repeatedly, 
 on seeing this, and a tear rolled down her cheeks. " How she 
 must suffer 1 How dreadful this walk must be to her ! " 
 
 " What ? You pity her who dislikes you so much ? " asked 
 her neighbor, in surprise. 
 
 " The fact that she is prejudiced against me cannot make me 
 insensible to the sufferings of a person who, moreover, belongs 
 to my own sex ; " she replied, gently. 
 
 On the following morning, the National Assembty was 
 opened amidst imposing ceremonies. A hall hitherto used for 
 the amusements of the court had been arranged for this pur- 
 pose, and a dense throng of spectators soon filled it to suffoca- 
 tion. On an estrade in the back-ground, under a baldachin, 
 was to be seen the throne, decorated with golden fringes ; be- 
 side it stood an easy-chair for the Queen, and chairs for the 
 Princesses of the royal family. At the foot of the estrade stood 
 a bench for the Secretaries of State, and, in front of them, a 
 table covered with violet velvet. 
 
 Louis the Sixteenth had himself directed the arrangement 
 and decoration of the hall. On the eve of events of such magni- 
 tude, the decoration of the hall engrossed his thoughts ; and the 
 rest of the time he spent in learning his speech by heart, and 
 trying to improve his delivery of the most pointed sentences.* 
 
 A number of amphitheatral rows had been reserved for the 
 select audience and the ladies, dressed in the most gorgeous 
 and fashionable style. Here sat Madame Necker beside her 
 * Madamo Campan.
 
 THE PROCESSION. 237 
 
 daughter. The latter gazed upon the scene with eyes radiant 
 with joy, and it was not until the King seated himself on tho 
 throne that a vague apprehension stole upon her. 
 
 She noticed how agitated and pale the Queen was when she 
 entered the hall some time after the appointed hour. She 
 watched her with anxious eyes during the whole of the cere- 
 mony. 
 
 Beside the Ministers of the Robe and the Ministers of the 
 Sword stood M. Necker in a plain civilian's dress the only 
 Minister who had disdained to appear in a courtier's cos- 
 tume. Enthusiastic applause greeted him. His daughter, 
 whose heart trembled with joyous pride, would have liked to 
 join in the acclamations which were repeated again and again. 
 
 Now Mirabeau made his appearance, and a murmur ran 
 through the Assembly. He knew its meaning, and went to his 
 place with a proud step, and an air plainly indicating that he 
 would make them rue this reception. 
 
 Louis the Sixteenth wore the large royal mantle, and a 
 plumed hat, whose ribbon sparkled with brilliants, and whose 
 agraffe was the Pitt diamond. When he entered, the whole 
 Assembly rose; but Mirabeau whispered to his neighbor, 
 ' There is the victim ! " * 
 
 The King delivered his speech, and then the Chancellor of 
 State and M. Necker addressed the Assembly. All three of 
 them expatiated on the improvement of the financial condi- 
 tion of the country, while the Assembly was looking for the 
 draft of a constitution. Madame de Stael noticed with the 
 liveliest regret that the deputies were exceedingly disappointed 
 at her father's speech, the gist of which was the phrase " Ne 
 toyezpas enmeuxdu temps." She trembled on reading an un- 
 mistakable expression of disappointment on all faces, and she 
 * " Memoirs of Weber."
 
 238 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 could hardly refrain from jumping up and calling out to them, 
 " Have patience ! Do you not hear the words, ' Ne soyez pas 
 envieux du temps ? ' My fatlxer is the King's Minister ; he 
 must act in accordance with His Majesty's wishes, and is not 
 at liberty to propose what the latter disapproves. As an honest 
 man, he cannot do otherwise; for to prove recreant to the 
 confidence reposed in him, would be impossible to him." 
 
 She left the hall in an agony of impatience, and hastened 
 back to her house in order to converse with her friends about 
 the great event of the day. She found that Madame d'Aiguil- 
 lon had preceded her thither. The latter came to meet her in 
 the utmost agitation, and complained of the disappointment 
 of her hopes. 
 
 " Ne soyezpas envieux du temps" replied Madame de Stael, 
 partly to soothe her, and partly to defend her father in hi3 
 own words. 
 
 "How can you expect us to be patient," replied Madame 
 d'Aiguillon, " when the moment has come at length that calls 
 upon the nation to govern itself? What we do not now de- 
 mand, what we do not now wrest from the Government, we 
 shall never obtain. We must have a constitution ; we must in- 
 sist on this safeguard being granted to the nation. A constitu- 
 tion alone can save France." 
 
 " You are aware that I fully concur in that opinion," replied 
 Madame de Stael ; " but I cannot allow you to charge my 
 father with causing your disappointment. He acted in accor- 
 dance with his character. He had to subordinate his individual 
 wishes to his sense of duty. He is unable to compel the King 
 to be and do what the times demand of him. He does not 
 stand firm, but is swayed by a thousand influences ; and what 
 is obtained from him in one minute, may be lost again in the 
 next one. My father is unable to manage him, and you can
 
 THE PROCESSION. 239 
 
 hardly expect that he should have such a decisive influence 
 over him. We should concentrate all our efforts on prevailing 
 upon the deputies to demand a constitution. You have friends 
 among them, friends whom you are able to influence, and so 
 have I. Madame de Coigny, Madame de Castellane, and Mad- 
 ame de Luynes are likewise surrounded by a small circle of 
 men who share our views ; and if we join hands, we shall cer- 
 tainly be able to exercise considerable influence upon the course 
 of events. We should even make the daily press subservient 
 to us if it should be able to promote our ends." 
 
 Madame d'Aiguillon concurred in these views, and hastened 
 home in order to receive her friends. As soon as she had left, 
 Madame de Stael went to her boudoir and took up a pamphlet 
 which she had received that very day. The author, M. de la 
 Luzerne, Bishop of Langres, one of the most gifted men of 
 France, proposed in it that the three chambers should be trans- 
 formed into two, and that the high clergy and the nobility 
 should form the first chamber, and the low clergy and the rep- 
 resentatives of the people the second ; so deeply impressed 
 was everybody with the necessity of bringing about measures 
 that would exclude all needless debates, and immediately solve 
 the great problem with which they had to deal. 
 
 She was still reading the pamphlet when Mathieu de Mont- 
 morency was announced. 
 
 " Is it so late already?" she said, when he entered the room; 
 " I have not yet dressed for receiving the guests who are to 
 dine with us." 
 
 " I have preceded the others in order to converse confiden- 
 tially with you. What do you think of the King's speech ? " 
 
 " Ah, let us not speak about it," she exclaimed, mournfully ; 
 " I know it has not satisfied anybody. Passion does not count 
 the obstacles, and hunger does not wait. I may be frank
 
 240 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 toward you, Montmorency, and confess to you that I look for- 
 ward to the future with great anxiety. Two dreadful evils 
 menace us : bankruptcy and famine. How are they to be met 
 but by thorough-going measures ; and how are they to be taken 
 as long as three chambers can veto every bill ? To improve 
 our financial condition, the clergy and nobility must be taxed 
 as heavily as the people, and their inherent selfishness will 
 never permit these two classes to consent to such necessary 
 measures. Their vote will neutralize that of the third estate ; 
 we have not made a single step forward ; nay, what is worse, 
 we hopelessly stand on the brink of a precipice." 
 
 " How can you believe that the nobility would reject so just 
 and equitable a measure," exclaimed M. de Montmorency, 
 proudly throwing back his fine head. " One should be ashamed 
 of being a nobleman, if that class possessed so little nobility of 
 the heart. What ! A nobleman should not be willing to con- 
 tribute his mite toward sustaining the crown, when the lowest 
 classes of the nation readily perform this duty toward their 
 country ? A nobleman should cling to his sous like a Jew, and 
 refuse to make any sacrifices in such an emergency? That is 
 impossible, utterly impossible; and if I should be mistaken, 
 I should no longer be proud of my name. I swear to you, as 
 sure as my name is Montmorency, should my class ever sin so 
 heinously against my class, I niyself, the heir of this ancient 
 name, shall move to divest a nobility that displaj r s so little 
 nobility of all its prerogatives, and I shall then be first to join 
 the third estate." 
 
 He had drawn himself up to his full height as he uttered 
 these words ; his eyes shot fire ; his cheeks glowed ; and he re- 
 sembled an enthusiastic Antinous. Madame de Stael gazed at 
 him with admiration and profound emotion, and her dark eyes 
 filled with tears, as, holding out her hand to him, she said :
 
 THE PROCESSION. 241 
 
 " TCI be animated with such generous feelings, my friend, is 
 a great blessing, and I should like to offer a libation to the 
 gods for this sublime minute. Nothing is so grand as a glance 
 into a human soul truly ennobled by nature," 
 
 " You attach too much importance to sentiments, which, at 
 bottom, are quite natural," replied the young man, modestly ; 
 ""and I hope you will discover yet a great many noblemen who 
 share my opinions." 
 
 " I am afraid there are very few of them," said Madame cle 
 Stael. " I am quite familiar with the spirit of the nobility at 
 court ; it will submit, if it cannot help it ; for it is accustomed 
 to obey the sovereign ; why, then, should it not also yield to 
 necessity ? But it will not do anything from conviction. Now, 
 the provincial nobility is still worse ; it clings to its privileges 
 as if it had received them at the creation of the world, and 
 speaks of its titles as if the whole world paid homage to them ; 
 when, in reality, no one but their neighbors has ever heard 
 their illustrious names. All the arguments of these provincial 
 noblemen may be reduced to the three words, ' C'etatt ainsi 
 jadis.' If you reply to them that the times are changed, that 
 the world does not stand still, that nations cannot go back- 
 ward, but must go forward, they smile incredulously, and their 
 expression indicates that nothing would convince them. There 
 is nothing they despise so much as knowledge and intelli- 
 gence." 
 
 " Your criticisms are very severe," mournfully replied the 
 young man, laying his hand on his forehead ; " but I cannot 
 but admit that they are true in many respects. But how are 
 we to bring about a change for the better ? What are we to 
 do in order to save what can be saved ? " 
 
 " The National Assembly must demand a constitution," ex- 
 claimed Madame de Stael, emphatically. " We must have a 
 11
 
 *.M2 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 government similar to that of Great Britain. When the 
 younger son of a lord becomes a commoner, the aristocracy 
 can nojonger treat the third estate with haughty disdain, and 
 encroach upon its rights, which, in a measure, are its own. 
 The clergy, however, must not represent itself; in that case, 
 we should have to strengthen the influence of the third estate 
 again, and that would also he dangerous. As I said before, the 
 English constitution seems to me well-nigh perfect ; and the 
 closer we imitate it, the greater will be the happiness of 
 France." 
 
 At this moment the Bishop of Autun was announced. 
 
 " I came a little earlier to congratulate you on M. Necker's 
 masterly speech," he said, on entering the room, and bowing 
 to her in his black robe, which sat so well on him. " lie did 
 not promise anything, and thus kept the whole game in his 
 hands. I admired his tactics sincerely." 
 
 " They were those of an honest man ; of a responsible Min- 
 ister," exclaimed Madame de Stael, warmly. " But, above all 
 things, tell me now if we may count upon you. Will you 
 bring your influence to bear on your class, in order to cause it 
 to pursue a course of moderation and conciliation ? Will you 
 act honestly for us and with us ? " 
 
 He smiled significantly. 
 
 " What would one not do in the name of the most gifted 
 woman on earth," he said, gently. " But you refer to my 
 class. Unfortunately," he added with a sigh, " I combine 
 three classes in my person, so that I am at a loss to know to 
 which you alluded." 
 
 " You are at a loss to know it, M. de Talleyrand ? You do 
 not know it, because you do not want to know it. You are a 
 deputy of the third estate, and at the same time you wear the 
 dress of a high prelate. You are a nobleman, and, as such,
 
 THE PROCESSION. 243 
 
 occupy a place close to the throne. You are courted and con- 
 sulted by all parties ; every one believes to have won you as 
 long as you listen to him ; but as soon as you leave him, the 
 conviction dawns on him that your smile was no pledge. Put 
 an end to this game." 
 
 The handsome Bishop smiled all the time. 
 
 " And what do you want me to do, my adorable friend? " he 
 asked, in a gentle voice. 
 
 " I only want you to break with the Court, turn your back 
 on the Duke of Orleans, and vote in the Chamber for a union, 
 of the estates and a constitution." 
 
 " Now, I must remind you of the momentous words of your 
 illustrious father, ' Ne soyez pas envieux du temps. 1 In breaking 
 with the Court and the Duke of Orleans I should not gain 
 anything but the impossibility to inform myself any further of 
 their plans and intentions. Had the Count d'Artois followed 
 my advice at an earlier day, when I was ready to join the 
 Court party on condition that the Duke of Orleans and Mira- 
 beau should be sacrificed, the fall of these two heads would 
 have rid us of two powerful leaders of the enemy, and 
 smoothed our path. But as it is, and at a time when no one, 
 not even M. Necker, acts in keeping with Beaumarchais' 
 words, 'Oser tout dire, oser tout faire,' I do not deem it in- 
 cumbent on me to obstruct my path needlessly. Where 
 there is power, there is in the long run right, too ; let us 
 wait and see. ' Ne soyez pas envieua du temps' says Necker. 
 Will his daughter be angry with me for walking in his foot- 
 steps?" 
 
 " Ah, M. de Talleyrand, if you would, if you could do so ! " 
 she exclaimed, mournfully. " But I arn afraid you are by far 
 too gifted, too objective to pursue the path of justice inflexibly 
 and inexorably. You continue visiting the Palais Royal. You
 
 244 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 hold intercourse with Mirabeau. You feel at ease among men 
 who profess the most objectionable principles." 
 
 " I am a little of an epicure, I admit," he replied, jocularly. 
 " To enjoy myself the better here, I frequent those circles. 
 The lower I descend there, the higher I ascend here." 
 
 " You cannot ascend very high, for never yet have I been 
 able to fill you with ardor enough to declare that you would 
 like to sacrifice yourself for an idea to die' for an idea." N 
 
 " It is true, I should prefer living for an idea, if it is a beau- 
 tiful one ; nor am I entirely destitute of passion, as you seem 
 to believe. So pray do not give me up yet ! " 
 
 " You cannot do anything with him," she said, turning to 
 M. cle Monlmorency, and shaking her head. " He always 
 escapes by a back door. And yet, we cannot now accomplish 
 anything by half-words and half-measures, by which inconsis- 
 tent humanity always likes to defend its cause. We cannot 
 reiterate too often, that individuals, as well as law-givers, have 
 but moments of luck and power ; they must resolutely seize 
 them, for the same opportunity never returns, and he who 
 allows it to pass by without turning it to account, will thence- 
 forth meet with nothing but failure and losses." 
 
 At this moment, Barnave, a young lawyer from Dauplrine, 
 highly gifted and destined to become an eminent parliamen- 
 tary speaker, entered the room. Madame de Stael built great 
 hopes on him, and welcomed him now in the most flattering 
 manner. She then withdrew, in order to change her dress, 
 and the footman announced soon after that dinner was ready. 
 
 M. de Stael received his guest with the air of a diplomatist, 
 and performed the duties of hospitality with the frigid polite- 
 ness peculiar to courtiers. The exalted position and great 
 popularity of his father-in-law silenced his aristocratic pride ; 
 and the circle of guests whom his wife of twenty-three assem-
 
 TUB PROCESSION. 245 
 
 bled around her, was such as not to justify the slightest objec- 
 tion on his part. Her extreme kind-heartedness had, moreover 
 induced her to fulfill some of his most unreasonable wishes : so 
 that, mindful as he was of her generosity, he did not want to 
 prevent her from yielding to the great current of the times and 
 wishing with all her heart to see her country happy and free 
 As for himself, such a cause did not arouse his enthusiasm; his 
 life lay behind him. The brief span of life which was still left 
 to him, he wished to pass in enjoying himself as much as pos- 
 sible a task which grows the more difficult, the more the 
 senses are blunted. Opposite to this man now sat his gifted 
 young wife, and indulged, with her sympathizing friends, in 
 golden dreams for the welfare of France.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE FAMINE. 
 
 INTENSE excitement reigned in Paris and throughout 
 France. The assembly of the States-General riveted the atten- 
 tion of the whole nation. All eyes were fixed on their pro- 
 ceedings, politics engrossed all thoughts, and even the most 
 fashionable ladies had become ardent advocates of constitu- 
 tional reforms. 
 
 The moment had come when talented men were able to dis- 
 tinguish themselves. Many a young lawyer who, under dif- 
 ferent circumstances, would have continued leading an ob- 
 scure life in his provincial town, had now been called to Paris, 
 where he displayed his brilliant abilities. At the same time, 
 there were found hi the ranks of the aristocracy many gifted 
 young men who were deficient neither in knowledge nor zeal 
 to serve their country, and who joyously joined those who 
 advocated the rights of the people. 
 
 Madame de Stael was now surrounded by a brilliant circle. 
 As the daughter of an almost all-powerful Minister and wife 
 of an Embassador, her house was frequented by the most emi- 
 nent men. Despite her diplomatic relations with the court, 
 she was allowed to receive many representatives of the third 
 estate, and consult with them as to the best means by which the 
 royal prerogatives might be curtailed, and equality before the 
 law established. She demanded a new constitution with the 
 head of a man and the heart of a woman. She did not want
 
 THE FAMINE. 247 
 
 to see the humblest persons excluded from their share in the 
 fruits borne by civilization. 
 
 Necker's political demands did not go so far; still he did 
 not disturb his daughter in the aspirations and plans which 
 she advocated with heartfelt enthusiasm. She was at liberty 
 to declare in favor of measures which his position as a Min- 
 ister prevented him from supporting. 
 
 Dinner-parties, suppers, social parties, nay, the theaters, 
 seemed to exist only for the purpose of giving the upper classes 
 fresh opportunities for engaging in heated political discussions. 
 On all sides were to be heard words referring to the strife of the 
 various parties. Literature had lost its charms ; the members 
 of the Academy no longer cared to deliver addresses on such 
 subjects. 
 
 Hopes of better times rilled all hearts with joy and gaiety, 
 and caused them to forget the perils and calamities of the mo- 
 ment Madame de Stael went almost every day to the sittings 
 of the Assembly. A great many other ladies from the highest 
 circles of society were also frequently present ; but none of 
 them obtained as much influence as Necker's daughter. 
 
 Meanwhile a terrible foe put his pale face into the hall of the 
 Assembly, and threatened to hinder their deliberations as to the 
 future by the grave exigencies of the present . it was hunger ! 
 
 "When the brilliant equipage of the Swedish Etnbassadress 
 rolled through the streets of Paris, she could not but notice the 
 thousands of wretches, who, covered with rags, stared at her 
 with hollow cheeks and sunken eyes, and lifted their hands to 
 her imploringly. What could she offer them to relieve such 
 terrible distress ? 
 
 She averted her face in dismay. Had matters come to such 
 a pass before the Government had consented to grant the safe- 
 guard of salutary laws to the poor country ?
 
 248 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 Of these new laws she now hoped everything. Meanwhile 
 the condition of the poor became more and more deplorable. 
 The bad and scanty fo'od engendered malignant fevers and 
 other wide-spread diseases ; on the market places and public 
 squares encamped the shelterless multitude, like vast bands of 
 gypsies. During the dark nights death crept softly through 
 their ranks, and released those' who were weary of their suf- 
 ferings. 
 
 Whenever a wagon filled with provisions made its appear- 
 ance, a riot took place ; the multitude quarreled fiercely as to 
 who was to obtain the food, and the military had to be called 
 out to prevent violence and bloodshed. 
 
 "When the sufferings of a people have reached this degree, 
 an untoward accident or the machinations of an ambitious 
 man may lead to the sudden overthrow of a throne. 
 
 Notwithstanding her political hopes, Madame de Stael was 
 deeply impressed by the deplorable condition of the lower 
 classes, and she would have willingly divided the courses of 
 her sumptuous table with all the poor sufferers. Above all, 
 those men who wished to honestly earn their livelihood in the 
 sweat of their faces, seemed to her deserving of sincere com- 
 passion ; for the morsel which charity gives to such men tastes 
 bitter, very bitter. 
 
 She came to her father with streaming eyes, depicted to him 
 what she had seen, and asked him what was to be done. 
 
 Necker had left no stone unturned to check the growing 
 famine, but all his efforts were wasted. Deeply depressed, 
 knitting his brows, and folding his hands on his back, he stood 
 before his daughter, and was unable to give her the answer 
 which she called for, 
 
 " My God ! My God ! " she sighed. " How fearfully this tor- 
 rible sin against the people will have to be atoned for.*'
 
 THE FAMINE. 29 
 
 Necker replied bitterly : 
 
 " Ah, if this were the only sin ! but if you could see the 
 prisons ; if you could cast a glance into those dungeons where 
 so many are languishing without knowing what crimes they 
 may have committed; it' you could just once walk through 
 the cells of Bicetre, you would find out what a mockery hu- 
 man justice is. I am unable to help. When a house is every- 
 where on fire, a fire-engine can do but little good." 
 
 " She buried her face in her hands, and remained a long time 
 standing before him in silence. 
 
 " Spring is at hand, and in the course of a few months there 
 will be another crop ; must, then, so many thousands starve to 
 death before that time ? " she asked, despondingly. 
 
 " God knows, my child," said Necker, drawing her to him 
 and imprinting a kiss on her forehead. " I cannot but believe 
 that such is the will of Providence, inasmuch as I see the evil 
 here without being able to fathom its source." 
 
 On her way home her carriage was stopped repeatedly. 
 The populace had gathered in front of the bakers' shops, and de- 
 manded imperiously to be admitted to them. Some bakers had 
 sold them bread mixed with earth, which had caused dreadful 
 sufferings to those who had eaten of it. The court still used 
 the finest white flour ; nobody suffered there from the famine 
 which had stamped its fatal imprint on the livid faces of the 
 poor wretches who were assembled here. 
 
 Madame de Stael was perfectly beside herself when she 
 reached her house. 
 
 " Great God, how is all this going to end ! " she lamented ; 
 and she then implored her friends to devise means by which 
 an end might be put to the heart-rending sufferings of the peo- 
 ple ; but they responded to her only by shrugging their shoul- 
 ders and shaking their heads.
 
 250 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 Finally, she took all her money, and walked out on foot 
 She intended to bring relief to sick and suffering women, and 
 forgot that money had lost its value, since bread could no lon- 
 ger be bought with it. 
 
 She wandered from street to street, as if she could not 
 satiate herself with the sight of all this misery ; her eyes fol- 
 lowed this ever-varying scene, which hunger and extreme 
 wretchedness had created. 
 
 She had unwittingly wended her way to the garden of the 
 Palais Royal, when she suddenly heard the shout, " To the 
 Abbaye ! To the Abbaye ! " The voice belonged to a young 
 man, who, standing on a chair, was haranguing the multitude. 
 Loud cheers burst forth as he now signed to the crowd to fol- 
 low him. A vast concourse of people started with him, and 
 Madame de Stael was carried away by the throng. 
 
 She glanced anxiously around in order to find an outlet. She 
 had never before been in such a crowd, and ignorant as she was 
 of its irresistible force, she vainly tried to escape from it 
 
 Fortunately for her, the Bishop of Autun stepped at this 
 moment from the Cafe Foy, and perceived to his utmost sur- 
 prise the wife of the Swedish Embassador in the midst of the 
 tumultuous crowd. He suspected at once that she did not 
 follow it of her own accord ; so he hastened to offer his arm 
 to her, and take with her a position where the crowd might 
 sweep past them. He succeeded in so doing. 
 
 As soon as they were alone, he said, " You have been before- 
 hand with me, Madame. You have practically joined the 
 third estate, while I was still reflecting whether or not it 
 would be theoretically worth while for me to do so." 
 
 " You are always jesting, M. de Talleyrand, even when grim 
 earnest is staring at you from faces distorted with hunger 
 But pray tell me, whither is this crowd hurrying? "
 
 THE FAMINE. 251 
 
 "Did the people not shout, 'To the Abbaye?' They want 
 to deliver the eleven guardsmen who are imprisoned there; 
 and who, it is rumored, are to be taken to Bice"tre to-night. 
 The soldiers begin to mutiny; they refuse to submit any 
 longer to the regulation disqualifying them to hold commis- 
 sions in the army because of their plebeian birth. Old Segur 
 should not have revived this old law." 
 
 " It was an unaccountable blindness on his part to do so," 
 exclaimed Madame de Stael. " "When are these men going to 
 perceive that talent, and not birth, should alone be regarded 
 in filling those positions ? But let us say no more about it 
 to-day. Help me to devise means to deliver Paris from the 
 horrors of this famine. I cannot tell you what I am suffering 
 at the present time. If my tears would give bread to the 
 poor, they would flow perennially over their dreadful fate." 
 
 " I can unfortunately serve you only with the proposition of 
 confiscating the estates of -the high clergy, and I am ready to 
 be the first to surrender mine," he said, with the same graceful 
 calmness, as if he were conversing on the most indifferent 
 subject. 
 
 " My God, you would really do so ? " exclaimed Madame 
 de Stael. " Do you know, Talleyrand, that you have just ut- 
 tered a great and noble word." 
 
 " You are able to obtain anything from me," he replied, with 
 a sidelong glance from his fine blue eyes at the young Embassa- 
 dress, who was gazing at him with an air of heartfelt enthu- 
 siasm. 
 
 " Ah, Talleyrand, I have often doubted your sincerity ; but, 
 if vou will take this step, I shall beg you with all my heart to 
 forgive me for distrusting the sincerity of your sympathies for 
 France." 
 
 He smiled strangely. " I shall afford you a great deal more
 
 252 MADAME DE STAEL, 
 
 joy than I have hitherto led you to believe," he said, signifl 
 cantly. " I shall prove to you that you have mistaken my 
 character." 
 
 " I will do you full justice," she exclaimed, in deep emotion ; 
 " only help me to save these poor, poor people from death by 
 starvation. Just look at the group yonder! How they are 
 staring at me, those women with their pale faces ! Is there, 
 then, no baker's shop where we might buy bread ? Ah, I wish 
 only to obtain the satisfaction to know that I saved those whom 
 I was able to save ! " 
 
 " What you give to some, you have to take from others," re- 
 plied Talleyrand, in the same tone as before, averting his face 
 with a slight shudder from the dismal group. " I am afraid 
 still worse scenes are in store for us. Free institutions cannot 
 be obtained without bloodshed." 
 
 " God grant that we may not have civil war ! " cried Madame 
 de Stael, in dismay. " Concessions' obtained by force may be 
 easily taken from us by the same means." 
 
 At this moment a carriage rolled past. 
 
 " That was Mirabeau," said Talleyrand. " He is sick. It 
 would be very fortunate for France if he were to die. It was 
 a deplorable oversight on the part of M. Necker not to try to 
 win Mirabeau over to his party." 
 
 "My father is no diplomatist. He always pursues the 
 straight road." 
 
 " And suddenly stands on the brink of a precipice." 
 
 When they reached her palace, they found Necker's equipage 
 at the door, and, in the salon, Madame Necker, awaiting her 
 daughter's return. 
 
 " I have just been at the hospital," she said. " There are so 
 many patients there, that all the beds are occupied, and typhus 
 is spreading very rapidly. I wished to request you to drive to
 
 THE FAMINE. 253 
 
 Bailly, and ask him to give us some public building where 
 more patients might be placed." 
 
 While they were still conversing on this subject, Condorce.t 
 entered the room. 
 
 " I bring you here the latest literary production," he said, 
 with his habitual sarcastic smile, presenting a paper to Mad- 
 ame de Stael. She unfolded it. It represented John Bull 
 mounted on the British Constitution, and driven by an old gen- 
 tleman, exclaiming : ' Laissez-les faire, & force de lafaire golop- 
 per Ms la creveront? " * 
 
 " Always jest and earnest side by side ! " exclaimed Madame 
 de Stael, shaking her head. " At a moment when rebellion 
 and famine knock at all doors and call upon all hearts for sym- 
 pathy and mercy, there are men still capable of deriding the 
 poor constitution which has made England great and happy." 
 
 " We must try to forget what we cannot help," interposed 
 M. de Talleyrand. " So I propose that we say no more about 
 bread and constitution to-day, but go to the opera. Gluck's 
 ' Iphigenia ' will be performed to-night." 
 
 The proposition was approved. Madame Necker, too, longed 
 to repose, after witnessing so many heart-rending scenes. Not- 
 withstanding the general distress and anxiety, the theaters 
 still were crowded. Frequently, however, there arose quarrels 
 among the spectators, which often came to blows. The exas- 
 peration of the lower classes was constantly on the increase ; 
 and inasmuch as they thought the boxes were occupied by 
 the aristocracy, they disturbed the performance by throwing 
 apples at some ladies with painted cheeks. 
 
 It is true, Necker's family were safe from such insults ; but 
 the sight of this brutality greatly depressed the mother and 
 daughter, and they went home in gloomy spirits. 
 * "Memoires de Condorcet."
 
 254 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 M. de Stael had been at court Contrary to his habit, he 
 inquired if his wife was at home, and, upon receiving a reply 
 in the affirmative, he entered her salon. She supposed that 
 some unusual event had led him to her, and looked at him in 
 eager expectation as he entered the room. He seated himself 
 and talked about indifferent matters. This added greatly to 
 her curiosity. She listened to him absently, and finally inter- 
 rupted him by saying: 
 
 " Did the King say anything about my father to-day, or did 
 he not mention his name ? " 
 
 " That would have been impossible," replied M. de Stael. " A 
 man whose name is in the mouth of all France cannot be passed 
 over in any conversation." 
 
 " So he praised him ? " 
 
 " By no means. The courtiers put on mysterious airs, and 
 whenever Necker's name was mentioned, they cast singular 
 glances at one another. Struck with their strange demeanor, 
 I took M. d'Espremenil aside, and asked him what it all 
 meant. ' That he will be hung in less than three weeks' 
 time,' he replied, with a confident smile." 
 
 " How can they do so ? " cried Madame de Stael, turning 
 pale. " All Paris would rise in rebellion if they should dare 
 to touch a hair of my father's head." 
 
 " They will take good care not to do so publicly," replied M. 
 de Stael, gravely. " They will arrest and cause him to dis- 
 appear. The grave does not give up its dead." 
 
 Madame de Stael uttered a piercing cry on hearing these 
 words. Breathless with terror, she rang the bell and ordered 
 her carriage. 
 
 It was late already when she reached Necker's house ; but 
 her father's solicitude for France kept him awake; and he 
 Btood musingly at the window and gazed into the dark night
 
 THE FAMINE. 255 
 
 which shrouded so many scenes of heart-rending misery. 
 Suddenly an arm was wound round his neck, and the radiant 
 eyes of his daughter gazed up to him with tender anxiety. 
 
 " You here ? " he asked, in surprise. " What brought you 
 hither at this late hour ? "What has happened ? " 
 
 " Let us flee ! " she cried, breathlessly. " They are intent on 
 killing you. Save yourself while it is time." 
 
 Necker turned pale, but he composed himself in a moment 
 and replied : 
 
 " God is with me, and so is my conscience. So never fear, 
 Germaine. When your father is protected by them, no one 
 will harm him." 
 
 She gazed up to him with reverential admiration. " But 
 what if they use force ? " 
 
 " In that event I shall die as I must die, my child. Would 
 you not rather have your father fall at his post, than desert it 
 in a cowardly manner ? " 
 
 She made no reply. Leaning her head on his breast, she 
 wept a long time in silence ; she then raised herself up, kissed 
 him, and, without uttering a word, left the room. 
 
 Necker gazed after her a long time in deep emotion. " My 
 child loves and understands me better than all the world," he 
 said to himself, and he raised his eyes thankfully to heaven.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 NECKER'S TRIUMPHANT ENTRY INTO PARIS. 
 
 THE oppressive sultriness preceding a violent thunderstorm 
 rested heavily on the capital of France, and added to the dis- 
 couragement reigning everywhere. Suddenly, in the evening 
 of the 12th of July, the Courier de Versailles brought, in its 
 eighth edition the news that the King had dismissed Nccker. 
 
 It needed only such a spark to kindle the existing combus- 
 tibles into a terrific blaze. 
 
 As soon as the newspaper in question appeared on the tables 
 of the coffee-houses, and was taken up by the first readers, they 
 rushed out into the street,' and rent the air with lamentations, 
 shouting that the country was in danger, and Paris was lost, 
 inasmuch as Necker had left the capital.* 
 
 The performances at the theaters were interrupted ; frantic 
 despair seized the people, who rushed everywhere into the 
 streets, and surged in dense masses toward the Palais Royal. 
 Here the leaves were torn from the trees, and fastened as cock- 
 ades to the hats ; the crowd then brought the busts of Necker 
 and the Duke of Orleans from a store, and carried both of 
 them in triumph through the streets. 
 
 Night set in during these tumultuous scenes, but it was a 
 tepid summer night, lit up every now and then by flashes of 
 lightning, and which rendered it unnecessary for the Parisians 
 to seek the shelter of their homes. 
 
 * Marmoutel.
 
 NECKEE'S TRIUMPHANT ENTRY INTO PARIS. 257 
 
 Thus the climate and season play an important part in the 
 great epochs in the history of the world ; a shower, a snow- 
 storm, and a widely different morning would have dawned on 
 Paris. 
 
 Madame de Stael had entertained a few guests at. her house, 
 and, absorbed in an animated conversation, she had not noticed 
 the commotion reigning in the streets, nor the anxious and in- 
 quiring expressions with which her servants watched her. 
 Now she was alone, and stepped to the window in order to 
 breathe a little fresh air before retiring for the night. At this 
 moment there fell on her ears the startling notes of the tumult 
 raging through the streets. Turning very pale, she started 
 back, and was about to leave the room, when M. de Montmor- 
 ency rushed in breathlessly. 
 
 " Great God, what has happened ? " anxiously cried Mad- 
 ame de Stael, lifting her hands as if imploringly. 
 
 " You do not know it yet?" asked M. de Montmorency, in 
 surprise. " You do not know why Paris is ringing the tocsin, 
 and threatens us all with destruction and death ? " 
 
 " I do not," she cried, beside herself. 
 
 " Because Necker has left Paris." 
 
 " Left Paris ! " exclaimed Madame de Stael, trembling so 
 violently that she had to lean against the wall in order not to 
 fall to the ground. " He has left Paris without saying a word 
 to me ? That is impossible, utterly impossible ! " 
 
 " And yet it is true. He departed in obedience to the 
 King's order, without a word to anybody. He was at the 
 dinner-table when the King's letter was handed to him. He 
 read it without losing his self-possession, laid it aside, and 
 finished his dinner. He then ordered his carriage, as he said, 
 to take an airing, and entered it with your mother in the 
 white dress which she wore at the time. "We saw him drive
 
 258 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 away, and did not learn until an hour afterward that he would 
 not return." 
 
 " Oh ! I warned him ! " cried Madame de Stael, mournfully. 
 " Thank God, my worst apprehensions have not been real- 
 ized. I was fearful they might arrest him, in order to protect 
 themselves against an insurrection." 
 
 " They did not venture to do so, for there is no .dungeon 
 from which the French people would not have rescued him. 
 The only way to prevent an outbreak, was to banish him. 
 But, even now, the interference of the military is necessary to 
 restore order and tranquillity. I should not wonder if the 
 people should force the King to recall M. Necker." 
 
 "My poor father! Such is the gratitude of kings!" cried 
 Madame de Stael, mournfully. " Yesterday, still all-powerful 
 on the soil of France ; he is hastening to-day to the frontier, a 
 powerless exile ! I shall follow him. He has more need of me 
 in these gloomy hours than ever before. Nothing but love of 
 his child can indemnify him for the bitter ingratitude of the 
 world." 
 
 " Wait until he informs you where he has taken up his resi- 
 dence. I nave been told that he has taken a circuitous route, 
 in order not to be overtaken by the people." 
 
 " How generous ! How magnanimous ! " she exclaimed, 
 enthusiastically, bursting into tears. " Even now he acts so 
 considerately toward a king who never appreciated his worth, 
 and, if he did, never was courageous enough to stand up for 
 him. He sits in his palace, and must hear now that hundreds 
 of thousands are mourning over the loss of a man who was u 
 father to all of them. The voice of the people is the voice of 
 God. Ah, Montmorency, how difficult it is for kings to rise 
 to that true humanity which recognizes the rights of man !" 
 
 She paced up and down her spacious apartments a long
 
 NECKER'S TRIUMPHANT ENTRY INTO PARIS. 259 
 
 time, while the tumult outside was constantly on the increase. 
 She heard shouts for arms, and the terrible notes of the tocsin, 
 and pressed her trembling hand to her impetuously throbbing 
 heart. 
 
 "My father is far away, and my husband, I do not know 
 where. How deserted I am, in spite of my brilliant position ! " 
 she sighed to herself, painfully impressed with the difference 
 between ardent admirers of her genius and faithful friends in 
 times of need. 
 
 Early next morning there arrived a courier with a letter from 
 Necker, who informed his daughter of the route which he had 
 taken, and requested her and M. de Stael to leave Paris as 
 quietly as he had done himself. 
 
 She entered her traveling-coach with a heavy heart. She 
 had not taken leave of any of her friends, and did not know 
 when she would return to the capital. She caused her coach- 
 man to drive her through the most deserted streets, leaning 
 in a comer, and shutting her eyes to the frightful scenes which 
 were enacted in Paris. When the capital lay behind them, 
 and the green summer landscapes extended before them so 
 quietly and smilingly, as if peace reigned everywhere on 
 earth, she drew a deep breath of relief. She left the horrors 
 of civil war behind her in the city which she loved so dearly, 
 and wept with all her heart over the fate which was in store 
 for the Parisians. 
 
 Upon reaching Basel, she met her parents, who had arrived 
 shortly before. Necker was deeply dejected. It was with 
 extreme dissatisfaction that he looked back to his second 
 term of office, which had terminated in so disastrous a man- 
 ner. He sat most of the time grave, and absorbed in his 
 thoughts, and even the presence of his daughter was unable to 
 divert him
 
 2 GO MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 However, he was not long to remain the only French exile. 
 To nis astonishment he learned, early on the following day, 
 that the Duchess de Polignac had arrived ; and a few hours 
 afterward she requested him to visit her. 
 
 Necker smiled bitterly as he crumpled her note in his hand. 
 
 Like most of the ladies of the Queen, the beautiful Duchess 
 had treated the parvenu with undisguised disdain, and often 
 given him to understand that she did not consider him her 
 equal. Necker, on his part, had severely censured her extrava- 
 gance, and never forgiven her for accepting so many costly 
 presents at the hands of the Queen. 
 
 Adversity was now to bring them together, which prosperity 
 had never been able to do. 
 
 Necker learned from her that his removal had caused a terri- 
 ble rising, in consequence of which many aristocrats had fled, 
 and that the Queen had dismissed her in order to conciliate 
 the people. " Without taking leave of me ! " she added, burst- 
 ing into tears. 
 
 When he returned from this visit to his family, not without 
 inward satisfaction, Madame de Stael came to meet him with a 
 triumphant air. " A letter from the King ! " she exclaimed, ex- 
 ultingly. " He requests you to return to Paris." 
 
 Necker took the letter, but then he shook his head gravely 
 and said, " I shall not go. I will not risk my reputation in a 
 lost cause." 
 
 "A lost cause!" exclaimed Madame de Stael, in dismay. 
 " You give up France when your hand is still able to guide 
 her at pleasure, when your word is all-powerful there, and 
 your name alone is sufficient to fill her treasury ? You can do 
 everything there ; you can make everything of France, and she 
 is lost only when Necker deserts her." 
 
 He contemplated his daughter mournfully. " It is your heart
 
 NECKEli's TRIUMPHANT ENTRY INTO PARIS. 261 
 
 that looks at the matter in this light," he replied, shaking his 
 head. " Your head would cause you to think otherwise, it 1 1 
 were not your father." 
 
 "Believe me just once," she said, coaxingly ; and she knelt 
 down before him and pressed his hands to her lips.* " Yielc* 
 for once to the prayers of your daughter, who lays the destinies 
 of France into your hand. Look forward to the future with 
 courage and confidence, and surmount with bold energy the 
 objects obstructing your path, and you will be certain to 
 achieve the most brilliant success. Just try again, my dear 
 father, and you will attain your object. Place yourself, like 
 Washington, at the head of the State. If need be, seize the 
 helm with the strong hand of a Cromwell ; secure respecfrfor the 
 laws by compelling everybody without distinction of rank to 
 obey them ; cause the King to grant constitutional liberties to 
 the nation ; and your name will be mentioned in history side by 
 side with those of the greatest benefactors of mankind. The 
 French nation loves and idolizes you ; it longs for your return ; 
 do not desert it in this hour of need ! Listen to its supplica- 
 tions, and do not avert your face from those who raise their eyes 
 imploringly to you ! " 
 
 Madame Necker joined them now, and likewise tried to per- 
 suade her husband to return to Paris. She felt how difficult 
 it would be for him to renounce the exciting life of the capital, 
 where his popularity made him the hero of the day, and ad- 
 miration followed every step he made. Much as she herself 
 had need of the quietude of Coppet, and greatly as she longed 
 to live in that solitude with her husband, whom she still loved 
 with all her heart, she was fearful lest the lonely life which he 
 would lead there should cause him to regret not having em- 
 braced the opportunity which was now offered to return to Paris. 
 * Madame de Crequis.
 
 262 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 The Minister now yielded to their joint prayers,* and his 
 daughter ordered the carriage exultingly, that they might im- 
 mediately set out for the French capital. 
 
 His return was hailed with universal applause and enthusi- 
 asm. In all the villages through which he passed on his way 
 to Paris, the church-bells were rung; the field-laborers left 
 their work in order to see him ; the people unharnessed his 
 horses in order to draw his carriage ; women and children knelt 
 by the wayside and implored heaven to preserve their protector. 
 
 This flattering reception did not leave him unmoved. He 
 loved his fellow-men, and so he believed in their love. Mad- 
 ame de Stael sat opposite to him with radiant eyes, and was 
 overjoyed at the enthusiasm with which her beloved father 
 was greeted. 
 
 At a village-inn he fell in with Baron Bezenval, whom the 
 people had arrested. He interceded immediately in behalf of 
 that worthy nobleman, and begged the people to release him, 
 and never to listen to the voice of revenge. To forgive and 
 forget should be their motto, and regenerated France should 
 obey only the dictates of justice and humanity. 
 
 Madame de Stael had performed the same route with widely 
 different feelings two weeks ago. At that time she left behind 
 her scenes of murder and arson, and looked forward to an un- 
 certain future ; now she brought peace and harmony back to 
 Paris, which was agitated by all kinds of impetuous passions. 
 
 Necker stopped at Versailles in order to wait on the King. 
 He appeared in deep emotion before Louis the Sixteenth. He 
 ,had served him faithfully, and had been rewarded with exile. 
 The thought of his ungrateful treatment prevented him from 
 finding immediately the right kind of words in his address to 
 the King. 
 
 * Madame de Crequis.
 
 NECKER'S TRIUMPHANT ENTRY INTO PARIS. 263 
 
 Marie Antoinette received with frigid politeness the Minis- 
 ter who had been forced upon her husband. Necker, in his 
 agitation, did not notice the Queen's reserve; and seized, 
 deeply moved, her hand, and pressed it to his lips. At this 
 moment, an expression of pain quivered round the lips of the 
 beautiful lady. The violation of etiquette mortified her, even 
 at this grave juncture, so much that it rendered her insensible 
 to the pulsations of a warm heart filled with sympathy for her. 
 So difficult is it for queens to feel like human beings. 
 
 Amidst the jubilant acclamations of the people, Necker 
 continued his triumphal journey to Paris. The whole popula- 
 tion of the capital filled the streets ; even the roofs were cov- 
 ered with spectators, and enthusiastic shouts of " Long live M. 
 Necker ! " rent the air.* 
 
 When he arrived at the Hotel de Ville, the cheers grew even 
 more deafening than before. Necker alighted here, and as- 
 cended to the hall, in order to communicate to the municipal 
 authorities the steps he had taken for Bezenval's release. 
 Madame de Stael paused here for a moment, and gazed upon 
 the vast concourse of people who had assembled here in order 
 to pay homage to a man whom she called father. 
 
 It was the happiest moment of her life. If her soul had 
 panted for fame, her longings had been more than fulfilled 
 to-day. She felt that popular admiration and enthusiasm 
 could not be raised to a higher pitch. 
 
 Meanwhile Necker urged the authorities to grant a general 
 amnesty, and all hearts joined in this appeal for mercy ; f the 
 whole people desired to participate in this act of general 
 clemency ; they embraced and kissed each other, and swore to 
 be friends for evermore. The great words liberte, egalite, f rater- 
 nite, were uttered for the first time. 
 
 * " Madame de Stael : Sur la Revolution." t Bertrand de Moleville.
 
 26-1 MADAME I>E STAEL. 
 
 Keeker now stepped out in deep emotion upon the balcony 
 opening upon the Place de Greve, and, accompanied by his 
 wife and daughter, showed himself to the vast multitude in 
 order to repeat in a loud voice the heart-stirring words of 
 peace which he had spoken in the hall. 
 
 Thousands upon thousands of voices cheered him to the 
 echo; not an eye remained tearless; even Madame Necker was 
 profoundly moved ; and while she fondly clung to her hus- 
 band, and pressed his hands to her lips,* her daughter, over- 
 come by her agitation, sank senseless to the ground, f 
 
 When Madame de Stael an hour afterwards awoke to con- 
 sciousness in her house, she asked herself if she had not 
 dreamed. She slowly called to mind all the scenes through 
 which she had just passed, and built on them anticipations of a 
 golden future, forgetful of the fact that the path leading to the 
 longed-for goal was already marked by bloody traces, and that 
 the terrible specter of anarchy would not be long in attaching 
 itself to the still pleasant-sounding word Revolution, which 
 had been uttered for the first time after the demolition of the 
 Bastile. 
 
 Her eyes still red with the tears which she had shed for joy 
 over the happy scenes of that eventful day, she sat in the even- 
 ing opposite to her father, and spoke of the glorious time when 
 the people would no longer suffer from hunger, and law and 
 order would be re-established in Paris. 
 
 At this moment somebody handed to Necker a paper con- 
 taining the news that the decree granting a general amnesty 
 liad been rescinded. Necker turned pale. 
 
 The Government repented already of what they had granted 
 only four hours ago. This would be a sad blow to his own 
 authority ; his power would be merely illusory ; and his return 
 * Bertmnd de Molevillc. t " Madame do Stael : Sur la Revolution."
 
 NECKEK'S TRIUMPHANT ENTRY INTO PARIS. 265 
 
 was evidently a faux pas. Henceforth he did not believe 
 any longer in his mission. 
 
 Madame de Stael read in his face that something had deeply 
 mortified him. But he kept silence. She was so happy, that 
 lie would not make her heart heavy at this joyous hour. Rem- 
 iniscences of her childhood, of Voltaire and his laurel-wreath, 
 arose in her mind. Then, as now, she had seen the people of 
 Paris ascend to their roofs, and longed to achieve a similar 
 triumph one day. 
 
 This thought caused her to sigh. Since politics overshad- 
 owed all other interests, she, too, thought only of laws and 
 reforms, and no longer found time for literary employment. 
 Her life was so eventful, it engrossed all her thoughts, and she 
 could no longer think of writing books. 
 
 When she rode next morning through the streets, she no- 
 ticed on all hats and caps the revolutionary cockade that first 
 symbol of popular rights. At the same time she learned that 
 many aristocratic families, headed by the Count d'Artois, had 
 left Paris. When she visited the pot where the Bastile that 
 ancient bulwark of the French monarchy had stood, she viv- 
 idly felt how deeply its demolition had shaken the foundations 
 of France. She lingered a long time on the place, which now 
 presented a desolate appearance, and a foreboding told her 
 that a constitution could not be easily built on such a ground.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE DKEAMS OP THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 EVERY century is the bearer of certain ideas, which, after be- 
 ing followed up to their extreme limits, are suddenly deserted 
 and exposed to the derision of coming generations. When we 
 call to mind on what grounds France built her hopes at that 
 time, we feel tempted to call them childish dreams ; for we 
 have long since advanced beyond the stand-points occupied by 
 the politicians of that period. 
 
 Parisian society had never perhaps been so interesting and 
 versatile as at that juncture, and despite the black clouds 
 rising in the political horizon, the higher classes still gayly in- 
 dulged in the wonted pleasures of social life. Every one now 
 formed political views of his own; men and women joined cer- 
 tain parties; and, in trying to win adherents, all became 
 eloquent, and hankered after popularity. They tried to con- 
 vince those who differed with them not only by oral, but also 
 by written arguments ; and thus the number of pamphlets and 
 journals was constantly on the increase, and every club and 
 every party had soon an organ of its own. 
 
 Only Necker, as before, stood alone and confined to his own 
 strength. His third term of office began with a defeat, fol- 
 lowed by several others, all of which were entirely tmexpected. 
 In the day-time he was tormented with petitions, many of 
 which wrung tears from his eyes ; and in the night-time he 
 would often start up from his bed in order to escape the terri-
 
 THE DREAMS OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 267 
 
 ble apparitions staring at him with hollow eyes, anil crying for 
 bread. His heart suffered so much that he fell a prey to a dis- 
 ease which afterward killed him.* 
 
 Whenever Madame de Stael went to her father, she met in 
 the streets crowds of persons in quest of bread ; in front of the 
 bakers' shops they formed in long lines, and were admitted one 
 after another. But she was still full of hope hope in the ideal 
 of her life ; hope in the salutary effects of a liberal constitu- 
 tion. 
 
 Man lives on illusions. As soon as they are realized, h"e 
 drops them and takes up new play-things. 
 
 Necker and his wife had taken up their residence at Versailles 
 in order to be close to the King. His daughter was unable to 
 accompany him ; she had given birth to her first child, and 
 Necker pressed his grandson, Augustus, with tears of joy to his 
 heart. The more eagerly she read every word referring to 
 her father. Every morning, as soon as she awoke, the news- 
 papers were brought to her, and as poor Necker was now held 
 responsible for a great many things of which he was entirely 
 guiltless, her indignation at such unjust criticisms frequently 
 knew no bounds, and her agitation in consequence often was 
 so great that she fainted. The free press availed itself of its 
 rights ; it refused to acknowledge that it was admissible only 
 in a nation whose moral sense was highly developed ; for they 
 looked upon France as the world; popularity, the idol to 
 which all were now paying homage, had not yet lost its halo 
 either, despite what experience had taught her in regard to her 
 father. 
 
 The summer had passed by ; of its verdure but little more 
 had been seen than the leaves from the garden of the Palais 
 Royal, which had been used as cockades. Who cared whether 
 * Bertram! de Moleville.
 
 268 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 or not the roses had bloomed ? Nobody devoted his precious 
 time to the beautiful, and the arts were neglected ; everybody 
 wanted to know only if 'the crops would be good, so that the 
 people would have bread again, and that the deficit might be 
 paid. 
 
 Autumn came, and the leaves fell from the trees ; but the 
 hopes of the people remained as green as ever. Madame de 
 Stael received now only friends of the constitution, and took 
 pains to influence them so that the constitution might embrace 
 such features as she deemed peculiarly desirable. As a woman 
 she could participate but indirectly in the great task of the 
 regeneration of France, which she often felt very bitterly. It 
 was very difficult for her to amuse and direct the enthusiasm 
 of men sympathizing with her, and yet to prevent them from 
 entering the wrong path. It is so difficult for men to under- 
 stand that the ardent sympathies of a woman may be bestowed 
 on a grave cause, and their vanity always is prone to transfer 
 to themselves the interest which she manifests. 
 
 Every gifted woman meets with this difficulty ; how, then, 
 could Madame de Stael expect not to encounter it ? She had 
 loved Mathieu de Montmorency as she would never be able to 
 love again. Such early love-affairs leave in the heart traces 
 which never fade from it. She felt for him a certain tender 
 attachment, which manifested itself in the delicate solicitude 
 with which she always treated him ; and his excellent char- 
 acter permitted her to convert this attachment into relations 
 of friendship, which were to terminate only with her death. 
 
 The gifted and prepossessing Narbonne had endeared him- 
 self to her in a different manner. She had recognized his 
 susceptibility for all that was great and beautiful, and it af- 
 forded her the most exquisite pleasure to play on the strings 
 of his lofty and cultivated mind. To dominate such a char-
 
 THE DREAMS OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTUKT. 269 
 
 acter, gladdened her heart; to guide such a man, gratified both 
 her vanity and pride. As he, on his part, longed to attach 
 himself to a person who took pains to convince him of the 
 truth of his views, the intercourse with Madame de Stael be- 
 came daily more indispensable to him. 
 
 Beside these two friends, she now saw the Bishop of Autun 
 very frequently ; she could not boast, however, of exercising 
 any influence over him. When she had seemingly won a 
 victory over him, she found that he adroitly slipped from her 
 hands. Inasmuch as he never warmed in any cause, the ad- 
 vantage always remained on his side ; the more so, as Madame 
 de Stael always got excited in her argument, and allowed her- 
 self to be carried away by the subject which engrossed her 
 thoughts, so that she made a long speech on it before she 
 permitted her opponent to reply. This way of repelling con- 
 tradiction often misled her as to the real views of her oppo- 
 nent, and prevented her from fully mastering her subject, in 
 consequence of just objections made to her argument. 
 
 One morning in October, when she was still reading the 
 news of the preceding clay, her valet de chambre told her that 
 half the population of Paris had set out for Versailles in order 
 to ask bread of the King. Madame de Stael turned pale on 
 hearing this. If they intended to apply to the King, they 
 would not forbear to ask the same thing of Necker. She or- 
 dered the carriage and started immediately for Versailles. 
 
 She could not go thither by the high road, which was occu- 
 pied by the riotous populace of Paris, but took a circuitous 
 route, by which she arrived at Versailles before v the Parisians 
 had reached it. Her father was already with the King, and 
 her mother had followed him as far as the royal ante-room, in 
 order to share his fate, no matter what might befall him. 
 
 She hastened likewise to the royal palace.
 
 270 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 Madame Neckcr sat on a tabouret in a window-niche in the 
 room of Louis the Sixteenth, while a number of courtiers 
 were assembled in various parts of the room, and conversed 
 with an air of intense anxiety. 
 
 Madame de Stael walked through their ranks and seated 
 herself beside her mother. The uneasiness of the courtiers 
 was constantly on the increase, until Lafayette made his ap- 
 pearance and promised them protection. " There is our 
 Cromwell," whispered a cavalier, as he entered the room. 
 " Cromwell would not come alone" calmly replied Lafayette, 
 and entered the King's room, where he found Necker, his face 
 buried in his hands, and his heart full of grief at the new cries 
 of distress uttered by the famished people. 
 
 It was not until midnight that the Minister and his family 
 retired. By a covered passage they repaired from the King's 
 apartments to Necker's residence, some of Lafayette's guards- 
 men having previously been stationed at both outlets of the 
 passage. They passed a dreadful night. 
 
 Necker shudderingly looked forward to the coming day, and 
 his wife and daughter likewise were a prey to the most intense 
 anxiety. He trembled for France, and they were fearful of the 
 dangers to which lie was exposed. 
 
 At break of day Madame de Stael was aroused by a noise in 
 her room. She started up and saw a lady with whom she was 
 not acquainted. " Pardon me for begging an asylum of you ! " 
 she said. " I am the Countess Choiseul-Gouffier. Assassins 
 have penetrated to the Queen's room ; she has fled to the King. 
 There is no logger any safety for us in the palace." 
 
 " And my father ? " cried Madame de Stael, jumping up and 
 ringing the bell. 
 
 M. Necker had already repaired to the King. Mme. de Stael 
 hastened to follow him thither. On the way to the palace
 
 THE DREAMS OF THE EIGHTEENTH CEXTUKY. 271 
 
 reports of muskets fell on her ears, and in the gallery her 
 feet touched bloody traces. She averted her face, shudder- 
 
 ingly- 
 
 In the ante-room she found the Garde du Corps exchanging 
 cockades with the National Guard, and shouting, " Viee La- 
 fayette ! " 
 
 The young Embassadress passed courageously through the 
 ranks of the soldiers, and entered the second room, where she 
 found Madame Necker and many ladies and gentlemen of the 
 court The Queen entered the room at the same moment. 
 Her hair was disheveled, her cheeks were livid ; but her bear- 
 ing was dignified. Her ^appearance made a deep impression. 
 In obedience to the shouts of the multitude, she had stepped 
 out on the balcony with her children, her features expressing 
 disdain; but better counsels prevailed among her enemies, 
 and she was greeted with cheers. When she withdrew from 
 the balcony, she said, sobbing, to Madame Necker: 
 
 " They want to compel the King and me to go to Paris, and 
 they are going to carry the heads of our Garde du Corps on 
 pikes before us." 
 
 Madame decker deplored this purpose of the populace with 
 all her heart. 
 
 When the royal family finally left Versailles, Necker and 
 his wife and daughter likewise returned to Paris by a circui- 
 tous and deserted route. They conversed but little on the road. 
 The sun shone brightly in the cloudless sky, and nature was 
 clad in her richest attire, but men did not feast their eyes on 
 it. At the Bois de Boulogne, tepid zephyrs played with the 
 first-falling leaves, and kissed caressingly the cheeks of the 
 passers-by. Necker gazed thoughtfully upon the quiet land- 
 scape, while his ears listened already for the voices of the hun- 
 dreds of thousands who were returning to Paris. His heart
 
 272 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 was overwhelmed with grief. What will be the end of all this? 
 he asked himself. 
 
 Madame de Stael, noticing his depression, pressed his hand 
 to her lips, and looked at him tenderly. " Courage, my dear 
 father ! " she said. " As soon as the constitution has been 
 adopted, the people will cool down." 
 
 Necker shook his head, despondingly. The constitution 
 would not furnish bread to the people. 
 
 When the King reached Paris, he repaired to the Hotel de 
 Ville. Necker and his family followed him thither. The 
 Mayor of Paris received him there. 
 
 " I return with pleasure to my dear, Paris," said Louis the 
 Sixteenth. 
 
 "And with confidence," added the Queen. 
 
 On the following morning, Marie Antoinette held a levee at 
 the Tuileries. The whole diplomatic corps, and M. de Stael 
 and his wife, too, were present, in order to render their 
 respects to the royal couple. For a whole century the ancient 
 palace had been deserted by the kings of France, and the eyes 
 of the beholders fell everywhere on the traces of a past, which 
 strangely seemed to mock the present. The Queen had found 
 that no preparations had been made for her reception ; in the 
 hurry, a room had been arranged for her and her children. 
 Field-beds had been placed in this rcom for them. It was 
 amidst such surroundings that the proud daughter of Maria 
 Theresa had to present the spectacle of her fallen greatness to 
 the eyes of the Embassadors of all courts. 
 
 " Vous sauriez que je ne m'attendais pas d venir id" she said, 
 as if apologetically, to the assembled ladies, who could not but 
 look at her compassionately. The parvenu's daughter, whom 
 she had formerly looked down on so haughtily, would not 
 have liked to be in her place now.
 
 THE DREAMS OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 273 
 
 Necker remained in Paris, whither the Assembled Constitu- 
 ante had likewise to transfer its seat. The more convenient it 
 was for Madame de Stael to follow its debates. But she was 
 not long in perceiving that no one was any longer at liberty 
 to act in consonance with his convictions, but had to swim 
 with the tide of popular opinion, unless he was ready to re- 
 nounce all influence over the course of events. 
 
 " It cannot be reiterated too often," she said to Narbonne, 
 " that both nations and individuals have only moments of 
 luck and power, which, if allowed to pass by without being 
 turned to account, will never return. So you should profit by 
 the favorable moment." 
 
 In this manner she sought to stimulate his ambition, and 
 incite him to vigorous action. But as her father was unable to 
 lend his character to the King, so she could not infuse her 
 energy and enthusiasm into Narbonne. 
 
 With the approach of winter came the wonted series of 
 amusements. Despite the deficit and famine, the embassadors 
 received their friends regularly, and Necker gave quite a num- 
 ber of soirees. Dinner-parties and concerts added to the gayety 
 of social life in the circles of the aristocracy, while the people 
 grumbled loudly at the extravagance reigning in the palace. 
 Many noblemen, however, deemed it prudent to leave the 
 country, and every day were heard the names of new fami- 
 lies who sought abroad protection from the storm which was 
 about to burst forth, and whose outbreak they accelerated 
 by their precipitate flight from France. 
 
 Meanwhile a new page had been added to the geography of 
 France; she had been united into one state, with the same 
 coins and laws, and the whole people looked with intense de- 
 light upon the extensive boundaries of the new united country. 
 A brilli.mt festival was to be celebrated on the Champs de Mars
 
 274 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 in honor of this important event; and the King, as if derisively, 
 had appointed M. de Talleyrand to consecrate the oriflamme 
 on this occasion upon the altar of the country. Madame de 
 Stael was present at this ceremony, whose symbolic meaning 
 made a deep impression on her. With tearful eyes, she gazed 
 upon the vast concourse of people, who greeted each other ex- 
 ultingly, as sons of a common country. " They are now 
 awaking to a sense of their dignity as men," she said to herself; 
 " they learn to appreciate the meaning of the great words, 
 liberty and equality." Overjoyed, like the rest of the spectators 
 she returned from the festival to her house. 
 
 Necker, meanwhile, became more and more desponding in 
 looking forward to the future; his popularity decreased very 
 rapidly, and his health was sensibly affected. The situation of 
 the King was not less deplorable. Despite her longing for a 
 constitution, Madame de Stael could not see him without pro- 
 found compassion in this dependent position ; and, always ready 
 as her warm heart was to help and relieve sufferers, she reflected 
 on the best means by which the King might be extricated from 
 this piteous predicament. She conceived a plan for his 
 escape, and caused it to be laid before him. But Louis the 
 Sixteenth had no confidence in the plan of such an enthusias- 
 tic lady, whose ardent and sanguine temperament had always 
 been distasteful to him. So, shaking his head, he pushed her 
 letter aside. 
 
 She was very sorry at this rejection of her suggestions. Like 
 all women who always act with their hearts rather than their 
 heads, she would have staked everything on everything, while 
 men never lose sight of their own interests in promoting those 
 of others. 
 
 The unsuccessful flight of the royal family proved this 
 abundantly.
 
 THE DREAMS OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 275 
 
 On the 8th of September, 1790, Necker, with his wife and 
 grandson, quietly left Paris, never to return to it. Fifteen 
 months had elapsed since he had made his triumphal entry 
 into the capital, and since the people had fastened to his door 
 a plate, bearing the inscription, " Necker, le Minislre, adore" 
 And now no one took any notice of his departure. 
 
 Deeply grieved and despondent, he bade a long and mourn- 
 ful farewell to his daughter. In doing so, he took leave of 
 life, of his political life, of his wishes and hopes, and, above 
 all, of his fame, whose shadow now pursued him. 
 
 Madame de Stael remained in Paris. She could not now 
 leave the scene of her hopes ; what her father had been unable 
 to accomplish for France, she might help her friends to 
 achieve. Necker himself was desirous that she should stay in 
 Paris ; for he knew his daughter too well not to foresee that 
 her feverish agitation would prove fatal to her in the solitudes 
 of Coppet. 
 
 The King's sisters, accompanied by Narbonne, had set out 
 for Rome. When he returned, Madame de Stael's sagacious 
 counsels enabled him to obtain the office of Minister of War.* 
 She was delighted with this success, which she enjoyed as if 
 she herself had obtained that important position. Mirabeau 
 had died ; a powerful party -leader disappeared with him from 
 the scene, and she hoped to replace him by Narbonne, and 
 inspired him with that self-reliance which a man needs, who 
 wants to exercise influence over the people, and render it 
 obedient to his wishes. 
 
 *Bertrand de Moleville.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE TOCSIN OF PARIS. 
 
 GREAT characters are products of their times. A struggle 
 for ideas developes ideas. Never before, therefore, had so 
 many gifted men appeared in the public arena, as at the be- 
 ginning of the French Revolution. 
 
 Madame de Stael admired nothing so much as a gifted mind. 
 She was unable to appreciate the beauties of nature, whose 
 low and sweet notes did not charm her ears, and the vast 
 realm of art was as yet closed to her. Intercourse with tal- 
 dhted men was the only pleasure which she was able to enjoy. 
 Wherever she discovered an able man, she paid homage to 
 him, even though he belonged to the party of her adversaries. 
 
 Hituerto, she had lived in and with her father, and had 
 looked upon his fame as her own. Since his star had set, 
 since his popularity had vanished, and he had finally turned 
 his back upon France, she was surprised to find how depen- 
 dent she was on others. Her sex prevented her from taking 
 an active part in political life, and she had to remain invisible, 
 in bringing about measures which she deemed indispensable 
 to the welfare of the nation. She thirsted for political fame 
 and popularity, and could not obtain either, except through 
 others. She had to infuse her sagacity and energy into a man, 
 nnd let him turn her talents to account. It cost her a struggle 
 to do so ; but she could not gratify her ambition in any other 
 \vay.
 
 THE TOCSIN OP PARIS. 277 
 
 She was now twenty-five years old. Taking a very bold 
 view of political affairs, she desired to shape the course of 
 events in accordance with her convictions. For this purpose, 
 she gathered representatives of the various parties about her, 
 and even attempted to bring about a compromise between 
 them. But these efforts were wasted. She was unable to 
 stem the tide of events. 
 
 From under the long lashes of her lustrous black ej-es there 
 beamed no less pride than tenderness.* The flames which 
 burned in them kindled enthusiasm, not only for the cause to 
 which she sought to win adherents with the eloquence of a 
 Mirabeau, but also for the lady who advocated it with so 
 much ardor. She was generally admired, and the applause 
 bestowed on her gladdened her heart. The days which she 
 passed amidst these political troubles were the happiest of her 
 life. 
 
 The Constitution, for which she had longed so ardently, 
 had, meanwhile, been completed and submitted to the King, 
 who, since his flight, had been imprisoned at the Tuileries. 
 
 Madame de Stael dissented from this mode of proceeding. 
 She felt the disgrace heaped on royalty, and sympathized, 
 from the bottom of her heart, with the King and Queen, at 
 every humiliation which was inflicted on them. In her per- 
 son were mixed the three elements of the Revolution ; ac- 
 cording to her rank, she was an aristocrat ; by birth she be- 
 longed to the popular classes, and her talents placed her in the 
 ranks of the representatives of science and literature. Thus 
 one principle was always in conflict with another in her 
 breast, and she would not allow any of them to achieve a 
 complete triumph over the others. 
 
 Her wish to procure M. de Narbonne a seat in the Cabinet 
 
 * T.nniartine.
 
 278 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 after her father's resignation had been fulfilled ; through him 
 she now had a vote in the Cabinet, and she left no stone un- 
 turned in order to realize her plans. 
 
 But she found again on this occasion, that, as she had ofteu 
 said, we are unable to infuse our character into other per- 
 sons ; for M. de Narbonne proved unequal to his position. 
 Guided by an able woman, he pursued the path which she 
 marked out for him; but his heart was not enthusiastically in 
 the cause. Like Madame de Stael, he wished to see equality 
 before the law established in France, but not at the expense of 
 the existing relations and institutions; and such moderate 
 views were repudiated everywhere. 
 
 M. de Montmorency had proposed to abolish the titles of the 
 nobility. Madame de Stael differed with him on this point. 
 Reminiscences cannot be effaced, and the merits of his ances- 
 tors are sacred to every cultivated man. She warned him 
 against the inefficiency of this step, but he refused to listen to 
 her. The Bishop of Autun moved to confiscate the estates of 
 the clergy ; he it was, too, who made them secular priests, and 
 set them the example of repudiating the celibate. Madame de 
 Stael did not approve this either. She wished for a constitu- 
 tion such as England possessed, and she declared that these 
 means were not in keeping with the object But the universal 
 thirst for popularity shut all ears to sensible advice ; every- 
 body paid homage to the clamor of an excited multitude 
 which did not understand its own interests, and, instead of 
 leading, should have been led. They yielded, from cowardice 
 and selfishness, to the most senseless demands, in order to rule 
 by the favor of the people. 
 
 M. de Stael took no part in these events. Satiated with life 
 and in feeble health, he allowed his young wife to do as she 
 pleased. The death of his King finally aroused him from his
 
 THE TOCSIN OF PARIS. 270 
 
 apathy, and compelled him to make a trip to Sweden. His 
 wife did not accompany him. Madame de Stael would not 
 have left France at this juncture under any circumstances, in- 
 asmuch as she still hoped to exercise a salutary influence 
 over the destinies of the country. She was fearful lest Nar- 
 bonne, without her assistance, should be unequal to his task ; 
 but he was unable to maintain himself even with her aid. 
 Talleyrand was in England, where he was to try to enlist the 
 Cabinet of St. James in the cause of the French Eevolution ; 
 when he returned to Paris, he heard that his friend Narbonne 
 had been dismissed. 
 
 " He was unable to maintain himself, because he makes a 
 most injudicious use of his tongue," said the handsome Bishop 
 to Madame de Stael. " He always wants to express his 
 thoughts with it, while language was given to us for the pur- 
 pose of concealing them." 
 
 This did not console her. She had lost the organ by which 
 she gave utterance to her ambition, and she was now at a loss 
 to know how she might influence public opinion. 
 
 Narbonne had set out for the army of the North as soon as 
 he had been removed. Accustomed as she had been for a 
 long time to see and consult with him daily as to the course 
 to be pursued by him, she missed him painfully, even in her 
 domestic circle. She longed for his return, and accused her- 
 self of not having taught him that prudence and caution 
 which she possessed least of all. 
 
 The clubs and meetings did not now interest her near as 
 much, since no voice spoke for her there any longer. She 
 walked sadly through her apartments, which seemed so lonely 
 to her. Although the stirring events of the day still attracted her 
 attention and sympathies as much as ever, they no longer glad- 
 dened her heart, since she could no longer play a part in them.
 
 280 MADAMB DE STAEL. 
 
 She tried to enter into more intimate relations with M. de 
 Talleyrand. Vain endeavor! No matter how amiable, inter- 
 esting, and agreeable he was at hter soirees and in her tete-a-tete 1 s 
 with him, she never was able to draw from him a word in 
 regard to his true intentions. " He is like a sensitive plant," 
 she said one day ; " he closes at the slightest touch." * 
 
 Meanwhile the summer of 1792 came, and now there ensued 
 convulsions which rendered a sojourn in Paris exceedingly 
 dangerous. Pethion and Marat began to rule supreme. All 
 those who were able to leave the soil of France went abroad, 
 but Madame de Stael remained in Paris. Distasteful as the pro- 
 gress of the Revolution was to her, she was unable to leave the 
 capital, where she was a prey to incessant excitement and sus- 
 pense. 
 
 Social life lost its charms since a coarse and brutal tone 
 began to prevail. The newspapers breathed a spirit highly 
 distasteful to a lady brought up in the school of Rousseau and 
 Voltaire. She disliked the practice of using such bad and 
 vulgar style. Human language, in her opinion, had never been 
 abused in this manner, and she said only the howls of wild 
 beasts could be rendered in such words. 
 
 The anniversary of the 14th of July was to be celebrated. 
 Madame de Stael, as the wife of a foreign embassador, occupied 
 a seat close to the Queen, and perceived distinctly the painful 
 impression which the celebration produced on the unfortunate 
 princess. Marie Antoinette sat bathed in tears, and looked on, 
 as her husband, in his powdered wig, the only one among so 
 many black heads, and in his gold-embroidered coat, ascended 
 the altar of the country, and took another oath to obey a con- 
 stitution which was to bring him to the scaffold. The people 
 saw him to-day for the last time. 
 
 * Monsieur de Talleyrand. Vol. II.
 
 THE TOCSIN OF PARTS. ?81 
 
 Madame de Stael returned from the celebration in profound 
 grief, to her house, and for a long time was unable to banish 
 from her mind the painful impression which the poor royal 
 family had made upon her. 
 
 " Matters cannot go on in this manner ! " she cried, wringing 
 her hands. " This cannot be tolerated any longer. It is cruel. 
 It is cowardly murder." 
 
 But all her friends turned a deaf ear to her ; none of them 
 were willing to risk anything in behalf of a lost cause. 
 
 " You are like those," said Talleyrand to her, smilingly, 
 " who first set fire to a house, and then want to save the in- 
 mates." * 
 
 " The remark is charming," replied Madame de Stael, " but 
 unfortunately it does not improve the prospects of the cause." 
 
 Her words met with no response amidst the uproar. The 
 evening of the 9th of August came. The forty-eight bells of 
 Paris rang their gloomy and monotonous alarm. Madame de 
 Stael, who stood with her friends at the open window, listened 
 to this death-knell of an ancient monarchy, and anxiously 
 looked forward to the events of the morrow. The whole 
 night passed in breathless suspense. At 7 in the morning, 
 finally, the booming of artillery drowned the dull sounds of the 
 tocsin. The people hurried through the streets. Madame de 
 Stael received every quarter of an hour reports of the progress 
 of the insurrection. The Tuileries had been surrounded, the 
 sentinels had been attacked and slain. 
 
 Upon receiving this news, Madame de Stael immediately 
 ordered her carriage. She had many friends among the officers 
 at the Tuileries, among whom was M. de Narbonne, too. She 
 wanted to ascertain whether or not they were safe. When she 
 arrived at the bridge, her coachman was stopped, and informed 
 * Allouville, Memoirs.
 
 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 that he and his mistress would doubtless be murdered on the 
 other side of the bridge. Madame de Stael, however, insisted 
 on advancing. Two hours elapsed in vain efforts to do so. At 
 length word was brought to her that her Mends were safe ; but 
 they had been compelled to conceal themselves. 
 
 After nightfall she hastened on foot through the streets, and 
 visited her friends in their places of concealment. Everywhere 
 were to be seen drunken men, who, sword in hand, had fallen 
 asleep on the threshold or door-steps of the houses. She per- 
 formed her self-imposed task courageously, frequently shutting 
 Her eyes to the horrors which obstructed her path. 
 
 Henceforth no one was safe in Paris ; even the most ardent 
 advocates of the constitution could save themselves only by 
 precipitate flight, and hastened to the army of the north. The 
 troops of Austria and Prussia had already crossed the frontier; 
 as soon as they should come close up to Paris, a wholesale 
 massacre might be looked for at the capital. 
 
 M. de Narbonne and M. de Montmorency were no longer 
 safe in their hiding-places ; so Madame de Stael took them in 
 the dead of night to her house, locked them up in one of the 
 back rooms, and watched herself over their safety. Narborine, 
 being an ex-minister, would have been immediately killed 
 if his whereabouts should be discovered, and she listene^ 
 tremblingly to all footsteps, fearful lest some traitor should 
 conduct the police to her house and cause her friend to be 
 arrested. 
 
 This terrible state of suspense could not last for any length 
 of time; the danger was so threatening that something 4iad to 
 be risked. At this juncture Dr. Bollmann, an honest Hano- 
 verian, the same who afterwards rescued General Lafayette 
 from an Austrain dungeon, visited Madame de Stael, and, 
 deeply moved by the anguish of the young Embassadrcss,
 
 THE TOCSIN OF PARIS. 283 
 
 offered to convey M. de Narbonne in disguise, and under an 
 assumed name, to England. 
 
 She heaved a deep sigh of relief when she had been freed 
 from this anxiety, and still more so when she learned that both 
 of them had safely reached the frontier. 
 
 She felt now, that she herself must no longer try to brave 
 the storm. So she applied for a passport to Switzerland ; but, 
 ven after she had received it, she could not yet make up her 
 mind to fix the day when she was to bid farewell to so many 
 friends whom she was loth to leave amidst so many dangers. 
 
 Victims fell daily now, and daily grew the list ot the names 
 of those over whom the sword was suspended. The prisons 
 were crowded with sufferers, and Madame de Stael sought to 
 save whomsoever she could. No hour was too early for her, 
 no walk too long, to serve those who had need of her aid. She 
 had just succeeded in saving the life of a worthy man, M. de 
 Jancourt, by interceding with Manuel in his behalf, and this 
 noble deed was to close her career in Paris. On the following 
 morning she intended to leave the capital, and the Abbe Mon- 
 tesquieu, disguised as a servant, was to escape with her to 
 Switzerland ; they were to meet at a certain point in the sub- 
 urbs. 
 
 At this juncture the Parisians heard that Longwy and 
 Verdun had been taken, and there was rung again that tocsin 
 whose sounds again struck terror into her heart, and all Paris 
 was again in commotion. Madame de Stael persisted, never- 
 theless, in her intention to set out for Switzerland. Al- 
 though she could as yet be safer at her house than on the 
 road, the Abbe's life would be endangered in case she should 
 not meet him at the appointed place, and this consideration 
 induced her to start. In order to show distinctly that she was 
 the wife of a foreign embassador, she ordered a berlin drawn
 
 284 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 by six horses, and told her servants to don their gala liveries. 
 This proved to be a serious blunder. In driving in this osten- 
 tatious manner through the streets, she attracted the attention 
 of the multitude, and a number of furious women were not 
 long in shouting that the carriage which they said contained 
 the treasures of the nation should be stopped. Excited men 
 surrounded the carriage, dragged the postillions from the box, 
 and ordered Madame de Stael to repair to the office of the dis- 
 trict authorities. 
 
 She patiently obeyed their order. 
 
 She was charged with helping persons sentenced to death to 
 escape from the country ; and her passport, too, it was said, 
 was not in good order. It is true, one of her servants who 
 was mentioned in it was absent ; she had secretly dispatched 
 him to inform the Abbe of what had occurred. In conse- 
 quence of this irregularity, she was to be sent to the Hotel de 
 Ville, and subjected there to a formal examination. 
 
 To reach the Hotel de Ville she had to cross one-half of 
 the capital ; nothing could be more dreadful to the poor lady, 
 whom it took three hours of mortal anguish to perform that 
 distance. She implored the gensd'armes who surrounded her, 
 to have mercy on her, and bear in mind that she was pregnant, 
 and that the upsetting of the carriage might be fatal to her. 
 She met with no response, but threats and disdain. 
 
 The danger became more imminent by the time she reached 
 the Place de Gr&ve. Surrounded by men bearing pikes, she 
 walked to the Hotel de Ville. When she reached the hall of 
 sessions, she felt comparatively safe. She had escaped from 
 the furious multitude, and stood now before a Robespierre. 
 The hall was crowded ; men, women, and children shouted, 
 " Vive la nation ! " 
 
 Madame de Stael did not admire these voices any longer
 
 THE TOCSIN OF PARIS. 285 
 
 A chair was offered to her. She took it and tried to compose 
 herself. At this moment her eyes fell on the Embassador of 
 Parma, who had been arrested like her ; and, finding that she 
 had recognized him, he rose and declared that he did not know 
 " that woman," and that he took no interest in her fate. In- 
 dignant at his miserable cowardice, she rose to defend herself. 
 Fortunately, Manuel arrived at this moment. Surprised to see 
 her in this condition, he stepped forward and became her 
 bondsman; he then took her and her maid to his private 
 office, where he locked them up. 
 
 He left them there for six long hours. Meanwhile they 
 looked down on the Place de Greve, where the bare-armed and 
 blood-stained assassins rent the air with horrible shouts. 
 
 It was not until after nightfall that Manuel dared to take 
 her back to her house. The street-lamps not having been 
 lighted, no one was able to recognize her. A new passport 
 was given her, and, escorted by a gensd'armes, she left next 
 morning Paris and France.
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 MADAME DE STAEL AT COPPET. 
 
 MADAME JXECKER, leaning on the arm of her husband, was 
 slowly walking up and down under the tall elms which lined 
 both sides of the road leading to Coppet. 
 
 The setting sun shed its last rays on the earth, and bathed 
 the snow-clad summits of the Alps in a flood of purple light ; 
 while the lower landscape, already half enshrouded in the 
 evening mist, vanished more and more from their view. 
 
 A low sigh escaped the lips of the ex-Minister. His thoughts 
 had wandered far away, while his eyes gazed dreamily upon 
 the magnificent scenery. He thought of his child. Here 
 reigned peace; in this happy solitude, everything breathed 
 the most profound tranquillity ; but where she lived, the tocsin 
 incited the multitude, perhaps at this very moment, to arson 
 and murder. 
 
 For several days past he had received no letters from her. 
 The cause of this silence was perhaps the fact that she had 
 already left Paris, or that fresh disorders had detained the 
 mails and carriers. He would have gladly believed the former 
 supposition to be true. To have her with him, and under his 
 protection, would have greatly reassured him ; still, he did
 
 238 MADAME DE STA.EL. 
 
 not wish to persuade her to leave a city to which she was so 
 much attached, while the quiet life in the country could not 
 but be exceedingly injurious to her vivacious and ardent spirit. 
 The growing danger, however, had convinced Madame de 
 Stael herself that it was time for her to leave the scene of so 
 many horrors. Her husband was absent ; she was looking for- 
 ward to her speedy confinement reasons enough )r her to 
 long for a safer place of abode. 
 
 Hitherto, no women had yet fallen victims to the Revolu- 
 tion ; but no one could tell how long the fair sex would be 
 spared ; and the imprudence which characterized every step of 
 Necker's, could not but expose her to incessant danger. 
 
 While such and similar thoughts arose in the mind of the 
 ex-Minister, his eyes descried, at the distant end of the alley, 
 a traveling-coach, approaching in the direction of the villa. 
 His eyes became radiant with joy, as he stood still, and called 
 his wife's attention to what he had seen. 
 
 Madame Necker trembled at this discovery. She faintly 
 leaned her pale head on her husband's shoulder, while she 
 pressed her right hand to her heart. 
 
 Her growing weakness rendered her sensible to the slight- 
 est emotion of her heart ; and With the thought that she would 
 presently embrace her daughter, there mingled now the fore- 
 boding that her end was drawing nigh. Although Germaine 
 had never occupied the first place in her heart, she was her 
 mother ; and at the moment when she thought of a final sepa- 
 ration, all jealousies gave way, and the heart alone warmly 
 spoke the language of the purest affection that exists on earth 
 the love between parents and children. 
 
 The post-horn now sounded a merry tune, a head emerged 
 from the traveling-coach, a loud " Halt ! " was heard, and, 
 a minute afterward, Madame de Stael, sobbing, was folded to
 
 MADAME I)E STAEL AT COPPET. 289 
 
 ner father's heart As her grief, so her happiness always 
 manifested itself in the most vivid manner. 
 
 In front of the door of the villa, there played her little boy, 
 who had almost forgotten his mother, as children of his age 
 are apt to do. But her loving words were not long in reviv- 
 ing in his memory the sound of a voice than which none can 
 appeal more powerfully to a child's heart 
 
 The joy of meeting her family again made an almost over- 
 whelming impression on a woman whose emotions were so 
 vivid, and whose affections were so ardent The expression 
 of happiness which she read in her father's face, added greatly 
 to her joy ; she kissed his eyes, his hands, and caused him 
 to feel that ambition, fame, and the passions of this world, 
 were as nothing compared with the love which she felt for 
 him. 
 
 Madame Necker had withdrawn, and did not return until she 
 had rested for several hours ; she then remained for a few mo- 
 ments with her husband and daughter, whose vivacity she was 
 unable to bear. 
 
 Madame de Stael had, meanwhile, related to her father the 
 events which had taken place in Paris, and depicted to him the 
 scenes of the September days, in words as graphic and impres- 
 sive as a painter's pencil. Necker shook his head mournfully 
 as she unrolled those horrors before him. 
 
 He was beyond measure astonished to hear that Narbonne 
 and Montmorency had been saved, and he asked himself 
 whether they had escaped in consequence of Gazette's prophecy, 
 or if that gloomy visionary had really been able to penetrate 
 the veil of the future. Although he had kept up a regular 
 correspondence with his daughter, there still remained for her 
 so much to add, and for him so much to ask, so many lives had 
 suddenly taken such a strange turn, that the first days passed 
 12
 
 200 MADAME I)E STAEL. 
 
 mostly on his part in questions, which his daughter took pains 
 to answer as explicitly as possible. 
 
 . Madame de Stael had left Paris in the utmost agitation, and 
 the news which she received thence since her departure, the 
 melancholy and precarious condition of her best friends, kept 
 her constantly in a state of painful uneasiness. 
 
 A protracted indisposition, and the birth of her child shortly 
 after, contributed greatly toward soothing the tempest in her 
 heart, and conjured up in her breast a certain resignation which, 
 following as it did in the wake of her prolonged feverish agita- 
 tion, at times almost frightened her. 
 
 Time wore on. Winter had come, and snow covered the 
 flanks of the mountains. She gazed sadly on the cold land- 
 scape that fell on her heart with icy coldness, and filled her 
 mind with that ennui which caused her wings to droop. 
 
 Her hopes in regard to France were blasted ; tears streamed 
 from her eyes whenever she called to mind what she had ex- 
 pected, and what she had lost. That constitution for which she 
 had longed so ardently, what had become of it? Her friends 
 whose fame she had shared, were reduced to want and misery ; 
 Paris, the pearl and ideal of all cities, was bleeding under 
 Robespierre. The cause of liberty had become a cause of 
 terror. 
 
 " What remains to me now ? what am I to do with my life ? " 
 she secretly asked herself; and she felt deeply and painfully 
 how lonely her life was, after all, inasmuch as the sound foun- 
 dation of domestic happiness was wanting to it Profound 
 melancholy seized her. 
 
 Xccker urged her to form a social circle; but all acquain- 
 tances which she formed here added to her despondency. In 
 Geneva lived Madame Rillet, nee Huber, who had formerly 
 been her companion at St. Ouen ; since that time circumstances
 
 MADAME DE STAEL AT COPPET. 291 
 
 had separated them still further, and everybody knows how 
 painful it is to meet old acquaintances with whom we have no 
 longer any sympathies in common. She had been estranged 
 from female life in its usual relations ; she never sympathized 
 very ardently with the interests to which it is devoted. Accus- 
 tomed as she was to pay homage to the mind, and to follow 
 with ardent enthusiasm whatsoever it creates, she contemplated 
 with a sad air the petty cares and troubles which engrossed 
 the attention of other women as wives and mothers. 
 
 Moreover, the hypocrisy to which her sex stooped, the insin- 
 cerity with which women concealed their thoughts and feel- 
 ings, were exceedingly distasteful to her. She was at a loss to 
 understand how any one could be ashamed of his feelings. 
 She appreciated only such words as were the immediate 
 expression of the heart ; she treated men in social intercourse 
 as if they were women, and charmed them by her candor and 
 honest straightforwardness. The women, on their part, took 
 umbrage at her unusual conduct, which they censured as want- 
 ing in good breeding. 
 
 Madame de Stael saw that she was not appreciated, and this 
 discovery saddened her heart, for she wished to be loved, and 
 she was well aware that she was unable to bring about a change 
 for the better. " ffest ma nature ainsi" she said, and it was 
 beyond her power to transform it. She remained truthful to 
 indiscretion, and concealed neither what moved herself nor 
 what grieved or gladdened others. 
 
 During the last six years she had not written anything, the 
 political events having completely overshadowed all literary 
 interests ; and whenever she was able to use the living word 
 for communicating her thoughts, she abstained from writing. 
 Now, in her solitude, she took up her pen again. 
 
 An active and animated correspondence with her friends in
 
 292 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 demnifled her, in the first place, for her separation from them. 
 Narbonne remained in London, and took pains to defend the 
 interests of France at the British capital. Though he was pool 
 and proscribed, the most aristocratic and influential circles 
 opened to him ; Fox and Grey, Erskine and Granville invited 
 him often to dinner; and Madame de Stael tried now from afar, 
 as she formerly had done in Paris, to exercise her influence 
 over him and guide his steps. 
 
 The condemnation of the unfortunate King of France 
 caused her the most profound grief, and she consulted inces- 
 santly with her friends as to the means by which he might be 
 saved. Narbonne had offered to go under a safeguard to Paris 
 and defend the King; when his offer was rejected, he never- 
 theless wrote a justification of Louis the Sixteenth, and had it 
 published. 
 
 Madame de Stael, animated by the same spirit, wrote a de- 
 fense of Queen Marie Antoinette, and issued it, anonymously. 
 Everybody divined the name of the authoress, although it was 
 not on the title-page, and admired the heart from which such 
 words emanated to justify a princess who had treated her so 
 unjustly and offensively. It is difficult to overcome our 
 wounded vanity. But Madame de Stael was in this respect, 
 too, the most kind-hearted creature on earth ; she never re- 
 sented an insult ; she never revenged herself upon a person 
 in adversity for having mortified her in the days of his prosper- 
 ity. The sufferings of the unfortunate appealed irresistibly to 
 her heart, and silenced any other feelings in her breast. 
 
 As Narbonne's justification was unable to save the King, so 
 Madame de Stael did not succeed by her pamphlet in bringing 
 about the acquittal of Marie Antoinette, and both of them had 
 to bleed on the scaffold. When the news of their execution 
 reached Coppet, the Necker family mourned for them as deeply
 
 MADAME DE STAEL AT COPPET. 293 
 
 and sincerely, as if the most beloved relatives had been taken 
 from them. 
 
 As soon as Madame de Stael's health permitted her to travel 
 again, she made in the spring of 1793 a trip to England, and 
 tried to bring her influence to bear on Pitt and Fox ; but her 
 self-imposed mission was unsuccessful. 
 
 Her maternal duties called her back to Coppet. By this 
 time a great many exiles had arrived in Switzerland, and their 
 frequent visits rendered her life less monotonous and lonely 
 than heretofore. Still the tone of these visitors was anything 
 but cheering. The days of hopefulness and joy were gone ; all 
 looked forward to the future with the gloomiest forebodings ; 
 and even the thought of the ultimate triumph of liberty had 
 lost its charm, since the road to it had been drenched in blood. 
 
 There was no gayety even in the circles of the most intimate 
 friends, and no one was courageous enough to begin a sprightly 
 and witty conversation. The Phrygian cap, and the cockade, 
 had driven away the esprit of the French. 
 
 M. de Narbonne had to leave England again, and seek an 
 asylum in Switzerland. "Want and privations dogged his steps, 
 and he wandered about in deep despondency. The favorite of 
 fortune could not accustom himself so easily to the whims of 
 fate, and it was not until he met the young Duke of Chartres, 
 and saw at Lucerne how bravely the Prince entered upon his 
 position as schoolmaster, that he took heart and, like him, re- 
 solved to look adversity courageously in the face. 
 
 Mathieu de Montmorency, too, arrived at Coppet, and re- 
 mained with Madame de Stael until he received from Paris the 
 intelligence that his only brother had been sentenced to death. 
 He hastened thither in order to save him, but he came too 
 late. 
 
 Inasmuch as everybody trembled for his own life, or for that
 
 
 294 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 of his friends, nobody was able to console others, and, least of 
 all, could this be expected of Madame de Stael, whom grief 
 prostrated so easily, and who had tears only to weep over an 
 inflexible fate, but was unable to brave it. 
 
 Necker vainly tried to comfort her, and encourage her by 
 his example to submit patiently to what could not be helped. 
 Life was dead and void for her when she had no desires and 
 hopes to connect with her future. Even fame had lost its 
 charms, if it was not to adorn her forehead in France. She 
 was like an actor who is to play before an array of empty 
 benches ; the right kind of spur was wanting to her, and even 
 her eloquent words died away on her lips because she had no 
 listeners with whom she cared to converse. 
 
 She received Narbonne with a mournful smile at Coppet. 
 He had been to her a brilliant star, whose rise she had watched 
 \s~ith enraptured eyes, and whose setting now filled her soul 
 with quiet grief. She had not faith enough to exclaim at 
 every failure, " What has happened was inevitable," and so 
 there mingled with her grief the self-reproach that many a step 
 would have been more successful if she had guided her friend 
 with more judicious advice. 
 
 Her defense of the Queen had appeared anonymously ; in the 
 same manner she now published a number of papers on the 
 peace question, on which even Fox, to whom Narbonne sent 
 them publicly, bestowed the most flattering encomiums.* 
 
 These *vorks occupied her, but they did not engross her 
 heart. Sue had long since perceived that her life in a certain 
 respect was a failure, owing to her thirst for fame and distinc- 
 tion, which did not indemnify her for the lack of that quiet 
 happiness which a woman is to find in the bosom of her family 
 Whenever she glanced at her mother, she heaved a piirh. for 
 * Villemain.
 
 MADAME DE STAEL AT COPPET. 295 
 
 she could never hope to love and be loved as Madame Necker 
 loved her husband, and was loved by him. Even her children 
 did not afford her the joy felt by a mother who seeks in these 
 precious pledges a resemblance to her beloved husband, and 
 presses them with redoubled tenderness to her heart be- 
 cause they belong to him. She could never i'eel, never hope 
 for, the proud satisfaction of enjoying this sweet and quiet 
 happiness. 
 
 Madame Necker's disease, meanwhile, grew more and more 
 alarming, and the physicians finally declared that there was 
 little or no hope of her recovery. Sustained as she was by her 
 firm religious faith, she courageously looked forward to her 
 death, and closed her eyes with a serene air. 
 
 This quiet sick-bed, this gentle death, affected Madame de Stael 
 most injuriously, unable as she was to lock any of her emotions 
 in her breast, and to fight out any heart-struggles within her- 
 self. Grief to which she was not allowed to give vent, made 
 her sick. 
 
 Necker was deeply afflicted at the loss of a wife whom he 
 had esteemed so highly and loved so dearly ; and he mourned for 
 her long and profoundly. Madame de Stael wished sincerely 
 to indemnify him for this loss, and to cling to him with re- 
 doubled tenderness ; but at the same time she saw that it 
 was impossible for her to pursue the same course as her 
 mother, and it was not until now that she recognized her high 
 worth. Her eyes were fixed on Paris ; her thoughts were at 
 the French capital while she was walking at her father's side, 
 and she looked forward to every coming day in the anxious 
 hope that something she did not know herself exactly what 
 she longed for might turn up. 
 
 M. de Stael had been appointed again Embassrulor to Paris. 
 He arrived there two mouths after the deatli of Louis the Six-
 
 29G MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 teentli ; he was the only foreign embassador that set foot on 
 French soil during the Keign of Terror. 
 
 In order to add to his personal safety, he distributed on the 
 day of his arrival the sum of three thousand francs among the 
 poor of the district ; nevertheless, he considered his life en- 
 dangered ; and much as he desired to prolong his sojourn in 
 Paris and call Madame de Stael to his side, after a few weeks 
 time he hastily turned his back on France. It was not 
 until after Robespierre's overthrow that he ventured to return 
 to his post.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 BENJAMIN CONSTANT DE REBECQTJE. 
 
 FBERE was no place in Switzerland where the French exilea 
 met with a less friendly reception than in the small town of 
 Lausanne. The young men of Lausanne were such ardent 
 adherents cf republican liberty that they not only rejected all 
 moderate ideas, but furnished the representatives of such 
 views with public marks of disrespect. 
 
 In the autumn of the year 1794, Benjamin Constant de Re- 
 becque returned to Lausanne, his birth-place, in order to visit 
 his relatives. His father, a general in the Dutch service, had 
 died at Dole. Young Rebecque had been educated abroad, 
 heard lectures at the University of Edinburgh, studied then 
 at GSttingen and Erlangen, imbibed the principles of Kant's 
 philosophy, and acquired a vast store of knowledge. His 
 family had escaped from France after the promulgation of 
 the Edict of Nantes; he had grown up as a Calvinist, and, 
 although a native of Switzerland, remained at heart a French- 
 man. He returned now from the petty cqurt of Brunswick, 
 where the Duchess, whose special favorite he was, had ap- 
 pointed him chamberlain a year ago. 
 
 Although he was only twenty-seven years old, he had in 
 many respects arrived at hia full maturity. His tall, slender 
 form, the enthusiastic glance of his large blue eyes, which were 
 constantly turned to heaven, made his appearance no less 
 striking than prepossessing. His blonde hair, which he wore 
 13*
 
 298 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 very long, after the fashion of the German students, imparted 
 to him at the same time the naive air of a youth who has just 
 entered into life, and thinks that some fresh pleasure is in 
 store for him behind every mountain. 
 
 Easily carried away by his impressions, he had already at 
 an early age put upon his heart fetters which he was not cou- 
 rageous enough to break. At a later time, when he formed the 
 acquaintance of the Hardenberg family at the court of Bruns- 
 wick, the niece of the prince charmed his impressive heart ; 
 and as his love was returned, he built the boldest plans on 
 the future, and secretly promised to marry the beautiful young 
 lady, who had been brought up in the most brilliant circum- 
 stances. He took this imprudent step without considering 
 how difficult it would be for him to redeem his promise. 
 
 She did not suspect what chains he bore already, and hoped 
 in his and her good star. 
 
 No sooner had Constant de Rebecque set foot on his native 
 soil, than he heard from all lips the names of the illustrious 
 Necker and of his no less celebrated daughter ; and the ambi- 
 tious young man naturally desired to get acquainted with these 
 distinguished personages. The kindness of Madame Necker 
 de Saussure, Madame de Stael's cousin, enabled him soon after 
 to attain his object. On a beautiful September morning he 
 put his letter of introduction into his pocket and set out for 
 Coppet. 
 
 Necker happened to be in his study, where he read and 
 wrote all day long, and refused to bo disturbed. When the 
 visitor was announced to Madame de Stael, she was standing 
 sadly at the window and gazing into vacancy. It was the 
 longing of her heart that caused her eyes to wander far away. 
 
 Narbonne had just left her. He had been the bearer of bad 
 tidings, which his own discouragement had rendered still
 
 BEJUAMIJT COXSTAKT DE REBECQUE. 299 
 
 gloomier. At the same time she had perceived how little he 
 valued her friendship since wealth and position were wanting 
 to him. " Oh, these men ! " she said, shaking her head, after 
 he was gone. " Instead of being props to us women, it is we 
 that must support them. They accept our services as though 
 it were our principal destination to promote their interests ; and 
 they forget that, with all our seeming disinterestedness, we feel 
 at the bottom of our hearts the longing to be rewarded for our 
 services with a little love and tenderness. Poor sex ! The 
 vulnerable side turns up everywhere." 
 
 Her large, lustrous eyes, half veiled under her long lashes, 
 and an expression of profound melancholy stamped on her 
 features, she went to meet the young stranger, and bade him 
 welcome. 
 
 He stood before her in surprise. He had thought that the 
 appearance of the author of the letters on Rousseau was 
 widely different from what he found her to be. 
 
 " You come from Germany," she said to him in her deep, so- 
 norous voice. " You have drawn your intellectual food from 
 the fountain of German philosophy, but at the same time 
 learned to pay homage to monarchial principles. They know 
 there but very little of the writings of our Rousseau, and the 
 chapter of the ' Rights of Man ' is still a closed book for those 
 dreamers. So my grief will be inexplicable to you. I have 
 no hopes of happiness but such as are connected with the lib- 
 erty of France, with a representative constitution, and the rec- 
 ognition of the droiis de Vhomme. The tocsin of Paris has 
 tolled the death-knell of all my wishes." 
 
 So saying, she paced the room in great agitation. 
 
 Constant followed her, meanwhile, with his clear eyes, and 
 sought to penetrate the singular being of the gifted lady. 
 
 "We were by no means indifferent lookers-on, while sucb
 
 300 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 stirring events occurred in France," he said, at last. " I my- 
 self take the liveliest interest in all that is going on there ; for 
 I look upon France as my own country, and am at heart a 
 Frenchman. And I say, even to-day, ' Thank God, I am a 
 Frenchman.' The petty German States could not win my 
 sympathies, inasmuch as I found everything there too insig- 
 nificant and narrow-minded. To entertain great ideas and 
 noble feelings, one must belong to a great nation, and play a 
 part in the arena of humanity." 
 
 " And that you can do only in France," she said, standing 
 still before him, and looking him full in the face with her radi- 
 ant eyes. He dropped his eyes before the wondrous luster of 
 these stars. " In France as it was, but not as it is. I wish 
 you had known it in its glory, in its greatness ; I wish you 
 had witnessed the majestic rising of a people determined to 
 throw off its yoke, and to break with the traditions of the 
 past, in order to rise to a new and nobler greatness. Ah, that 
 time will never come back. I wish you had seen the suspense 
 pervading all classes of society, and how every one wished to 
 co-operate in the great work, and thought he existed only for 
 the welfare of the whole nation. And now, and now ! to what 
 extremes has too much resistance driven this poor people ! " 
 
 " It is a transition," replied Constant de Rebecque, rising 
 likewise. " Histoiy never advances in a straight line ; we 
 overstep the right measure, now on one side, and now on the 
 other ; and we learn only by our excesses when we should 
 have pursued a course of moderation." 
 
 " You speak like a philosopher," replied Madame de Stael, 
 eyeing him with growing interest. " The right measure is 
 reason ; and what you call excesses, passion. I have grown 
 up in a school which granted to the latter a power, the fruits 
 of which were reaped under Robespierre. You have been
 
 BENJAMIN CONSTANT DE KEBECQUE. 301 
 
 brought up in a country where the " Critique of Pure Eeason " 
 founded its systems. So both of us have started from opposite 
 points ; and yet I wager, M. de Rebecque, that, no matter what 
 theory may have taught us, we shall practically meet in the 
 same path. Forbidden fruits are always so sweet ! " 
 
 "And yet they leave such a bitter pang behind. It is so 
 beautiful to love virtue and hate vice ; it is so beautiful to ar- 
 dently admire all that is great and noble, and it is still more 
 beautiful to believe in a demi-god. You do not know how 
 magnificently we are dreaming in Germany. There is in Ger- 
 many an ideal world for which we gladly risk the very ground 
 under our feet. To think is there the first duty of man. Oh, 
 you must get acquainted with Germany. The very contrast be- 
 tween that country and France will make it interesting to you." 
 
 She sighed deeply. 
 
 " How I envy you for being able to feel so warmly," she said, 
 mournfully. " Although I am still young, I have suffered a 
 great deal, and met with many disappointments. There is but 
 one thing that remains to me : an everlasting unsatisfied long- 
 ing for some unspeakable happiness. Whenever I thought it 
 within my reach and stretched out my hand for it, it escaped 
 from me. Now I do not hope for it any more ; there is a deep 
 gloom in my breast ; my illusions have vanished ; my life seems 
 aimless, and my heart is so poor, oh, so poor!" Her eyes 
 filled with tears as she said so. 
 
 Constant rose in deep emotion and seized her hand ; she gave 
 it to him willingly, and allowed it to rest in his. 
 
 " Your tears show how rich your heart still is," he said, feel- 
 ingly. " How deep and pure its feelings must be, when it is 
 able to weep such pearls after past and lost happiness." 
 
 A sunbeam from her eyes was her response. He wanted to 
 withdraw his hand in confusion, but she held it and said naively :
 
 302 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 "To get acquainted with orte another, we might need an 
 hour 01 ten years.* I believe I understand you, and it is iny 
 habit to say frankly and openly whether people please or dis- 
 please me. I feel that you can be a great deal to me, inasmuch 
 as you possess all that is wanting to me hope, faith, and en- 
 thusiasm. Kindle with them once more the dead spark in 
 my soul. Become my friend. Let us try and see what \ve can 
 be to one another." 
 
 Confused, surprised, and flattered, M. de Rebecque pressed 
 to his lips the beautiful hand still resting in his own, and 
 meanwhile tried to find words for a replj r . What was he to 
 answer ? He was a prey to strange feelings. The most gifted 
 lady of the century offered her friendship to him, an obscure 
 young stranger; that was a triumph most gratifying to his 
 vanity; and yet something told him that, in accepting her 
 offer, he added another chain to the fetters which he already 
 bore, and which would thereby be rendered still more intoler- 
 able and oppressive. 
 
 At the dinner-table he was introduced to Necker. The con- 
 versation was exceedingly animated, and gave him an oppor- 
 tunity to admire the genius of his new friend. They talked 
 about the usual topics, the latest events in France, the war be- 
 tween the allied powers, the condition of the French exiles, 
 and the probable denouement of all these complications. 
 
 Necker inquired, also, about the German universities, the 
 policy of Prussia and Austria, and the spirit and sympathies 
 of the youth in whose hands rested the future of the States. 
 M. de Rebecque gave him satisfactory information about every- 
 thing, and interspersed his remarks with many witty sallies, 
 which delighted Madame de Stael, and caused Necker to smile 
 approvingly. 
 
 * Her own words.
 
 BENJAMIN CONSTANT DE KEBECQUE. 303; 
 
 Brilliant rather than profound, sustained by a sanguine tem- 
 perament, accessible to all impressions, and destitute of that 
 firmness of the soul which teaches us to avoid noxious influ- 
 ences, he was a man of the moment, catching with his sprightly 
 heart fortune on the wing, and never taking umbrage at its 
 fickleness. 
 
 Frank and communicative as he was, he willingly disclosed 
 the events of his brief career. He told them all about his youth, 
 his studies, his life at the English and German universities. 
 He only passed over his sojourn at Brunswick as less important, 
 and adroitly evaded all questions propounded to him in regard 
 to it. 
 
 When Necker's eyes happened to fall on the small golden 
 ring on his left hand, he became embarrassed, and soon after 
 the treacherous ornament disappeared from his finger. 
 
 Necker liked Benjamin Constant from the very first, on ac- 
 count of his birth-place and religion ; and the pleasure which 
 the amiability of the young man afforded him, added greatly 
 to the partiality which the ex-minister felt for him, so that 
 Necker was not long in treating him like an old acquaintance. 
 So he was not surprised to hear Madame de Stael say to Con- 
 stant at parting, she wished him to consider Coppet his home 
 during his sojourn in Switzerland. She would cause a room 
 to be fitted up for him. 
 
 It is true, this kind of hospitality was by no means unusual 
 at that time, and it had always been practiced with especial 
 liberality at Necker' s house. 
 
 Young Rebecque replied to these kind words only, that, under 
 these circumstances, he should be loth to leave Switzerland again. 
 
 " So much the better," replied Madame de Stael, casting at 
 him a glance which contained the assurance that she would 
 gladly consider him her property.
 
 304 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 The stars had risen already when the young man reached 
 Lausanne. 
 
 He threw himself moodily on his couch, but could not fall 
 asleep. Whenever he shut his eyes, the gifted lady stood before 
 him, fixed her radiant eyes on him, and said, " Let us try and 
 see what we can be to one another." 
 
 The idea of her friendship made him dizzy. 
 
 He thought of his first love how timidly he had ap- 
 proached the very young girl, and indicated his love for her by 
 glances rather than words. He recalled the sweet happiness 
 of those days ; but alas ! it seemed to him like a childish 
 dream. And then appeared before him the beautiful and ele- 
 gant lady whose acquaintance he had formed at Hardenberg's 
 house ; before her the humble picture of his firsl love had sunk 
 into the dust; and his passion, enhanced by his ambition, had 
 stimulated him to win a heart for which he had to betray another. 
 
 And now he was to add to these relations, from which he 
 had not yet freed himself, a friendship which began too 
 warmly and affectionately not to lead to more tender relations. 
 
 But what was he to do ? 
 
 The courage of truth he did not possess. He despised his 
 own cowardice, his head reproached him with his discreditable 
 conduct, but his heart sinned none the less. His lips refused 
 to utter the word that would mortify a woman dear to him, 
 and so he sinned still more grievously against her. 
 
 He returned to Coppet on the third day. Madame de Stael 
 thought that he tarried too long for a friend who valued her 
 friendship as highly as she wanted to be esteemed. She re- 
 ceived him with a clouded brow. 
 
 " Jamais je rtai ete aime comme faime" she said to him, re- 
 proachfully. 
 
 Henceforth he had always to tell her beforehand the day
 
 BENJAMIN" CONSTANT DE KEBECQUE. 305 
 
 and hour when he would return, which was to him bo;h new 
 and disagreeable. He sighed, but did not venture to disobey 
 her wishes. She manifested so much gratification at his visits, 
 her interviews with him were so agreeable to her, that he 
 could not tell her that he would feel happier if she were less 
 exacting toward him. 
 
 Letters from Brunswick called upon him to return to that 
 city. He responded to them by lame excuses, subterfuges, 
 and promises, which, on the following day, he was not 
 courageous enough to fulfill. How could he inform Madame 
 de Stael that he intended to leave her, when she assured him 
 every day that his presence lent a new charm to her life ! 
 
 He began to write his work on religion,* to which his con- 
 versations with Necker and his daughter constantly stimulated 
 him afresh, especially as the ex-minister himself devoted con- 
 siderable attention to this subject. At the same time he looked 
 anxiously forward to the immediate future. He could not 
 possibly continue this mode of life for any length of time. 
 To repose in this manner at his age was a crime against him- 
 self. He had to obtain a position and secure his future. But, 
 whenever he alluded to this subject, Madame de Stael fell into 
 an agitation which rendered it impossible for him to come to 
 an understanding with her ; and finally carried him away to 
 the most passionate assurances that all his other interests 
 should always be secondary to the desire of living as near to 
 her as possible. 
 
 As soon as he left her, this falsehood weighed down his soul 
 like an incubus. Vexed and out of humor, he determined to 
 tell her the truth at his next interview with her, but these reso- 
 lutions always terminated in the same discomfiture. And thus 
 the winter of 1795 drew nigh. 
 
 * Biographic Universelle.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE FIRST EMBA8SADOR TO THE NEW REPUBLIC. 
 
 IT was in March, 1795, that M. de Stael returned again as 
 Embassador to Paris, the only representative of a foreign power 
 authorized to recognize the new government. 
 
 The Directory, highly flattered and gratified at his appear- 
 ance, received him with the utmost distinction. He was con- 
 ducted to a chair opposite to the President of the Assembly, 
 who received him at his entrance with the fraternal kiss, and 
 addressed him with the republican " thou." 
 
 The affectionate treatment which he received at the hands of 
 these men, most of whom belonged to the lower classes of 
 society, seemed intolerable to him. With an air of confusiou 
 he suffered the embrace which was by no means to his taste, 
 and fortunately did not perceive the ridiculous figure which he 
 cut among them. 
 
 He had gone to Paris with the firm determination to submit 
 to the exigencies of the times, in order to be able to live at the 
 French capital. The sojourn at Stockholm was no less dis- 
 tasteful to him than the limited income which was at his dis- 
 posal in that city. He was a spendthrift, and addicted to luxury. 
 Inasmuch as he had no fortune of his own, he was unable to 
 gratify his expensive tastes as long as he was separated from 
 his wife, and so he longed intensely to return to his post. 
 
 As soon as he had reached Paris, he wrote to Madame de
 
 THE FIRST EMBASSADOR TO THE NEW REPUBLIC. 307 
 
 Stacl, and informed her that she would now be perfectly safe 
 at their Parisian residence. She hastened in great agitation 
 with this letter to her father. 
 
 " You cannot accompany me, and I shall not leave you here 
 alone," she said. 
 
 " You will do so, nevertheless," replied Necker, with gentle 
 earnestness, folding her to his heart. " Your mind has need 
 of a larger sphere of development than Coppet is able to offer 
 you. You are destined for the great world, and cannot adapt 
 yourself to limited fields of action and narrow horizons. So 
 follow your destiny, my child. I have arrived at an age 
 when solitude is a blessing, and I shall enjoy with you from 
 afar all the triumphs which you are certain to achieve." 
 
 She was, however, unable to make up her mind immediately. 
 She paced her room in great agitation until Benjamin Constant 
 arrived. 
 
 Without a word of preparation she handed him her hus- 
 band's letter, and fixed her eyes steadfastly on him while he 
 read it. 
 
 " So you will return to Paris," he said; and the thought that 
 he would now regain his liberty, removed a heavy burden 
 from his heart. 
 
 " Is that all you have to say to me in regard to that letter ? " 
 she asked, panting for breath. 
 
 He dropped his eyes in confusion. 
 
 As she still continued fixing her eyes on him inquiringly, he 
 composed himself at last, and replied : 
 
 " That I shall be grieved to part with you, I need not tell 
 you ; you know how much I shall miss you ; still, it is no use 
 complaining of what is inevitable." 
 
 " Inevitable ! " she exclaimed, curling her lips angrily, while 
 her increasing agitation swelled her nostrils. " Inevitable is
 
 308 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 only what fate imposes on us, and not what we choose to do 
 of our own accord. Both of us are free and enlightened 
 enough to rise above prejudices and surmount obstacles. 
 Where there is a will there is a way. To the bold belongs the 
 world. He who is able to overcome circumstances knows no 
 other law than his own inclinations. I am only a woman ; 
 but my courage, I believe, surpasses that of many men." 
 
 M. de Rebecque made an evasive reply. He tried to allay 
 her anger by assuring her of his fervent attachment, and told 
 her that his affairs had lone since rendered it necessary for 
 him to go to Brunswick, but that his aversion to a separation 
 from her had caused him to postpone the journey again and 
 again ; now, however, he said, he was glad that her determina- 
 tion to return to Paris put an end to his hesitation. 
 
 This reply did not satisfy her. A violent scene ensued. 
 She insisted on learning what induced him to go to Bruns- 
 wick. He could and would not tell her. He had always 
 shrouded his relations with that place in a veil of mystery, 
 and refused now to lift it. 
 
 Madame de Stael asked him to accompany her to Paris. 
 
 " Why defy public opinion ? Why give M. de Stael cause 
 to complain of me ? " he said. 
 
 " At all events, your reputation would not suffer in conse- 
 quence," she replied, bitterly. 
 
 He represented to her that, as her companion, he would be 
 placed in a state of dependence on her, which was repugnant 
 to his self-respect. A man, he said, must be something by 
 himself, and not allow himself to be supported by a woman. 
 He would repair to Prince Hardenberg, who was at this junc- 
 ture at Basel for the purpose of concluding peace between 
 France and Prussia, and try to obtain some position through 
 his inlluence.
 
 THE FIRST EMBASSADOK TO THE NEW REPUBLIC. COO 
 
 " A position that would separate you from me ? No, Con- 
 stant, you must not, shall not, apply for such an one. 'your 
 knowledge and talents will open you an honorable career every- 
 where. Do you want to be rich ? I will give you my whole 
 fortune, and shall be glad to receive a mite from it at your 
 hands. A woman will not degrade herself by such a state of 
 dependence." 
 
 Constant divined the reply which she expected, and dropped 
 his eyes in confusion. He was a prey to the most painful emo- 
 tions. When he raised his eyes again, he met hers, which 
 were fixed on him with an expression of the most profound 
 grief. He threw himself at her feet in the deepest contrition, 
 pressed her hands with the most affectionate exclamation to 
 his lips, and then suddenly rushed out of the room. 
 Madame de Stael looked after him in surprise. 
 An hour went by, and he did not return ; but a messenger 
 brought her a letter written at the neighboring village. Con- 
 stant informed her in it that he was ashamed of being unable 
 to devote his whole life to such a friend ; he implored her 
 not to banish him in consequence from her heart, but to permit 
 him to enter upon his political career under her guidance in 
 Paris. He would set out for Germany this very day, in order 
 to meet her the earlier at the French capital. 
 
 She buried her face in her hands after reading the letter. A 
 violent pain gnawed in her breast; a flood of tears finally 
 gave her relief. 
 
 After composing herself, she sent a messenger after him ; but 
 he was unable to overtake Constant, who had already returned 
 to Lausanne. She wrote to him that she must see him once 
 more previous to his departure. He replied that he had already 
 engaged a traveling-coach and packed his trunk. 
 She ordered her carriage and drove to Lausanne. When
 
 310 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 she halted in front of his house, the shutters of his windows 
 were closed, which told her that he had left. She nevertheless 
 Went up to his room, which was in a somewhat disorderly state. 
 Everything was still lying about as he had left it. Everything 
 here spoke of him, and reminded her of the days which she 
 had passed with him. She closed the door, seated herself, and 
 mused on the events of the past. 
 
 Torn letters and scraps of paper littered the floor. Sh 
 picked them up and tried to recognize the handwriting. The 
 characters were German, and she was unable to decipher them. 
 Only the hand of a young lady could have penned these neat 
 yet firm letters. The signature, in French characters, was 
 " Hardenberg." She concealed these scraps tremblingly in her 
 bosom, and hastened from the room. Hardenberg ! He had 
 often mentioned that name to her, but in a different connec- 
 tion. 
 
 Fortunately the preparations for her departure engrossed all 
 her thoughts for the next few days. 
 
 "When the moment was finally at hand when she was to take 
 leave of her father, her heart failed her. Necker had lately 
 grown obese, and everything indicated that he would not 
 reach an advanced age. The loss of his wife had, moreover, 
 inflicted on him a wound which had scarred over, but would 
 not heal. Her remains had been buried in a bosquet of his 
 garden. He daily wended his way thither, and conversed with 
 her in thought. 
 
 Madame be Stael led her father to this hallowed spot in 
 order to bid him here a last farewell. Her children were not 
 to accompany her. She urgently recommended them to her 
 father at her mother's grave, and begged him to edxicate them 
 in her spirit. Then bursting into loud sobs, she hastened into 
 her carriage, buried her face in her hands, and saw no more.
 
 THE FIRST EMBASSADOR TO THE NEW REPUBLIC. 311 
 
 She rolled quietly toward her destination. 
 
 When we reach after a prolonged absence the place where 
 our cradle has stood, we find that the picture thereof which 
 lives in our memory has lost its colors, and no longer fits the 
 frame which we bring along for it. 
 
 We are at a loss to know if we contemplate the picture with 
 different eyes, or if the objects we see have assumed another 
 shape ; certain it is that we are no longer at home in these sur- 
 roundings. 
 
 When Madame de Stael descried the spires of Paris, tears of 
 joy filled her eyes. She would have liked to greet every 
 passer-by, and fold every stranger to her heart. 
 
 The houses and streets were the same ; only they bore dif- 
 ferent names. The coats of arms had disappeared ; the word 
 citoyen expressed everything. Luxury had become a vice, and 
 simplicity was a proof of patriotic sentiments. 
 
 M. de Stael came to meet his wife without the insignia of 
 his rank, and clad in a simple black dress-coat. She hardly 
 recognized him in his burgher-like costume. 
 
 On the following day she drove with him to Grosbois. 
 and visited Barras, who held a reception. Here she saw 
 only toilettes of the Grecian fashion, and so low-necked that 
 they made her blush. The hair was worn without powder, 
 and either closely cropped d la cictime, or in ringlets d la 
 Titus. 
 
 Her dress created such a sensation that she perceived she 
 would have to change it. 
 
 When the footman announced her and her husband, he said, 
 " Le citoyen Embassadeur Stael el son epouse." These words were 
 highly distasteful to her ears. Her admiration of the Droit de 
 Vhomme had never extended far enough to solicit for herself 
 the appellation, " La dtoyenne Stael" or " Citoyenne Embassa-
 
 312 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 With these words was coupled a certain tone of famili- 
 arity which never prevails in good society, and to which she 
 was not accustomed. 
 
 Refined manners had disappeared from society ; people used 
 bad language in conversation, and wrote even worse. Never- 
 theless, she had to take pains to conceal the disgust with which 
 all this filled her. Barras was now a powerful man, and she 
 had to ingratiate herself with him in order to enable her friends 
 to return to France. She conversed with him on this subject, 
 and interceded with her habitual warmth in behalf of the suf- 
 fering exiles. 
 
 Barras himself was of noble extraction, but he carefully con- 
 cealed his descent, which could not but be injurious to him. 
 Nevertheless, his early education had imparted to him the 
 refined manners of good society, which he still preserved. 
 
 He listened smilingly to the enthusiastic encomiums which 
 the celebrated lady bestowed upon her exiled friends. 
 
 " You first set fire to a house and then want to protect the 
 inmates against the flames," he said, laughing. 
 
 " Help me, and it will be all the same to me whether you ac- 
 cuse me of inconsistency, or not," she said, imploringly. 
 
 However, she did not attain her object so easily. The Direc- 
 tory was already accustomed to flattery. The old nobility 
 tickled with it the ears of the parvenus, either to save their 
 estates, or to introduce relatives ; and thus the aristocrats used 
 toward the bourgeoisie a language which had never been heard 
 at court, and which would have been less oifensive there, inas- 
 much as it would have been an expression of submissiveness, 
 than here, where sneaking self-interest used it for the purpose 
 of attaining its petty ends. 
 
 There being no court and no embassadors, M. de Stael did 
 not hold many receptions. He gambled a great deal, and
 
 THE FIRST EMBASSADOR TO THE NEW REPUBLIC. 313 
 
 spent his evenings with M'lle Contat. His wife saw him very 
 rarely. Already accustomed to being left to herself, she de- 
 voted her attention, as formerly, to politics, and to the welfare 
 of her friends. She opened her salon and gave the first soiree 
 a faint shadow of what social life had been before the Revolu- 
 tion. At the same time, however, she took pains to attract 
 many of the leading men, partly in order to gain political in- 
 fluence, and partly to enable her proscribed friends to return 
 to France. These efforts were injurious to her character as a 
 woman, and she was called an intriguer ; but she never spared 
 herself whenever she tried to obtain an object upon which she 
 had set her heart 
 
 Talleyrand had been compelled to leave England, and lived 
 now in America. By interceding with Barras in his behalf, 
 she obtained permission for him to return to France. Trem- 
 bling for joy, she seated herself at her writing-table in order to 
 communicate the glad tidings to him. 
 
 In regard to Narbonne she was unsuccessful. He lived in 
 obscurity in the Canton of Glarus, where he underwent a great 
 many privations ; nevertheless, he refused to return to France 
 as long as it was in the hands of a government which he hated 
 and despised. Vainly did Madame de Stael attempt to change 
 his mind in this respect ; vainly did she represent to him that 
 he might use his influence in bringing about a better state of 
 affairs ; he persisted in his refusal to erect a structure on such 
 a foundation, inasmuch as it would be certain to break down 
 over his own head. 
 
 Mesdames Beauharnais and Tallien likewise opened their 
 salons; the theaters were more liberally patronized; and, as 
 formerly, Madame de Stael had many opportunities to display 
 her surpassing talents, and to assert her superiority. Never- 
 theless she did not feel happy. 
 14
 
 314 MADAME DE STAKL. 
 
 From week to week since her arrival she had looked forward 
 to Benjamin Constant's return, and her impatience knew no 
 bounds. When he asked again and again for delays, without 
 being able to give her any plausible reasons for these requests, 
 she was often perfectly beside herself, and almost determined 
 to follow him. But how can we attach to us by dint of 
 prayers and reproaches, a friendship which refuses to grant 
 any rights to the other side. 
 
 Her head told her that this was impossible, but her heart 
 always silenced its voice. She knew by experience how many 
 relations in life a man will prize more highly than his friend- 
 ship for a woman, and how easily he can do without her when 
 his ambition, self-interest, or another passion of the same 
 description guides his steps. She had had to submit, sighingly 
 to the refusal of her friends to break other fetters for her sake, 
 and to the readiness with which they allowed her to enter a 
 union which was a mere marriage de convenance, rather than 
 grant her a position to which she believed herself to be per- 
 fectly equal. She had suffered and forgotten all this, and had 
 constantly remained a faithful friend of these men. But was 
 she to prove again and again how gladly she sacrificed herself 
 in order to promote the interests of others ? 
 
 She wrote daily to M. de Rebecque, and reminded him of his 
 promise. She depicted to him in glowing colors how deeply 
 she felt his faithlessness, and how sorry she was to be unable 
 to hasten to him in order to impress him orally still more viv- 
 idly with the wound which he had inflicted on her happiness. 
 
 Such letters filled Constant with the most painful emotions. 
 Enchained as he was by a genuine affection, it was difficult for 
 him to leave the lady of his heart. And yet Madame de Stael 
 exercised over his imagination an influence which attracted 
 him to her almost against his will.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE NEW PARIS. 
 
 ON a warm August morning, Benjamin Constant de Re- 
 becque, after making a trip through the Rhenish provinces and 
 Holland, reached at length the capital of the French Republic. 
 Upon arriving at the Barrierk, he left the stage-coach and 
 walked slowly along the road which had been pointed out to 
 him, in order to receive undisturbedly the first impressions 
 which the great city would produce upon him. To see Paris 
 was then an important event for a young man. He looked 
 curiously at the houses and people. Suddenly his eyes fell on 
 a cart filled with twenty gensd'armes, who were being taken 
 to the place of execution. He averted his head shudderingly 
 from the dreadful sight. These gensd'armes were the old re- 
 tainers of Fouquier Tinville, who had joined the insurgents of 
 the first of Prairial. Good-looking young men, armed with 
 sabers and pikes, hastened through the streets, and drove be- 
 fore them the working-men who had taken part in the attack 
 upon the Convention. Batteries were planted in the streets, 
 and Paris resembled a battle-field after a battle. 
 
 Benjamin Constant reached Madame de Stael's house hi the 
 highest agitation. 
 
 The servant had misunderstood his name ; she did not know 
 that it was her friend whom he had announced, and she greeted 
 him with a loud cry of surprise, terror, and joy. She repeated 
 to him the invitation to take up his abode at her house. Con-
 
 Sid MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 stant begged her to permit him not to avail himself of this 
 offer. As M. de Stael was unacquainted with him, it could not 
 be agreeable to him to see a young stranger treated as a mem- 
 ber of his family. She pouted at his refusal, and eyed him 
 distrustfully. The name " Hardenberg " was on her lips ; but 
 she still hesitated to utter it. She was afraid of its sound. 
 
 On the same evening she gave a soiree, at which he formed 
 the acquaintance of Suard, Morellet, Lacretelle, Laharpe, the 
 brilliant Lauraguais, Castellane,Choiseul,and many other emi- 
 nent men. When he went to bed that night, his head swam, 
 from all that he had heard and seen. 
 
 On the following morning, Madame de Stael drove with him 
 to Barras, and recommended her protege to that all-powerful 
 man ; she then introduced him to the ladies of her acquaint- 
 ance. 
 
 M. de Stael was at Passy. When he returned from thence 
 after a few days, he met his guest for the first time. He greeted 
 him coldly, and evidently took no interest in the young man 
 whom his wife so visibly distinguished. 
 
 Benjamin Constant was ill at ease in his presence. When 
 he was alone again with Madame de Stael, he begged her to 
 bestow less attention on him in the presence of otherg. She 
 gazed at him for several minutes in speechless astonishment. 
 
 " You wish to teach me that falseness and deceit which you 
 like so well in my sex," she then said, half mournfully, half 
 bitterly ; " but it is a vain endeavor 1 I am my father's daugh- 
 ter, and, above all, want to remain truthful. I shall never 
 deny my friendship for you." 
 
 Constant kept silence, as always when he saw her sad or 
 vexed. He was not courageous enough to make her unhappy, 
 and re-assured her, in his cowardly way, by words and assu- 
 rances in which he did not believe himself.
 
 THE NEW PARIS. 317 
 
 She took him out to Saint-Brice, and introduced him to 
 Marmontel, who had lost his fortune and his salary during the 
 Revolution, and now looked anxiously upon his young family, 
 whom he was scarcely able to protect against want. It af- 
 forded Madame de Stael a great deal of pleasure to show her 
 young friend the place where she had passed her youth, and 
 to speak of by -gone times which were so rich in hope and 
 fame. 
 
 Marmontel was exceedingly glad to see her again, and, 
 vividly depicted to her the years of anxiety and care which 
 he had passed here, so close to the scene of terror. So many 
 of their common friends had perished so piteously, she shud- 
 dered as he related to her the details of the mournful fate 
 which had befallen them. He alluded also to Condorcet, and 
 told her how that able and brilliant man, who had just com- 
 pleted his noble work on the progress of the human mind, per- 
 secuted as he was by Robespierre, had taken poison. 
 
 " The fictions of us poets are so dull when we compare 
 them with the wonderful complications of human destinies, 
 which real life offers," said Marmontel, thoughtfully. 
 
 They parted most cordially. 
 
 On the following day, M. de Stael was even more morose 
 and taciturn than usual. Constant, gathering all his courage, 
 spoke to him, and tried to enter into a conversation with him. 
 Vain endeavor! When he asked the Embassador if there 
 was any political news, M. de Stael replied that the Ami 
 du Oitoyen contained only the news that Citoyen Benjamin 
 Constant was the Deje&ner d la fourchette of Madame de Stael. 
 So saying, he left the room. Constant looked after him in 
 confusion. 
 
 He and Madame de Stael sat opposite to each other in 
 silence. Neither of them dared to utter the first word. Finally
 
 318 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 Constant jumped up, intending to seize his bat and hasten from 
 the room ; but Madame de Stael laid her hand on his arm and 
 detained him. As usual, so he yielded to-day, too, to her 
 prayers. 
 
 A new life had dawned upon Madame de Stael. She wanted 
 to open to her young friend the road to that fame to which 
 she herself was not at liberty to aspire ; she wished to plunge 
 him into the political career, and then enjoy the successes 
 which her ambition would enable him to achieve. 
 
 She presented him to Madame Tallien and Madame Beau- 
 harnais, the aunt of the future Empress, both of whom re- 
 ceived at their salons a large number of the most eminent men. 
 The German, or at all events German-looking, young man, with 
 his long, golden hair, and his open, radiant eyes, was well 
 liked ; and before long many felt inclined to take him under 
 their protection, in order to gain political influence by his 
 talents. 
 
 Madame de Stael, however, was by no means disposed to 
 give him up so easily. She believed to have found in him at 
 length the friend to whom she might devote herself entirely, 
 and sacrifice everything ; and who, in return, would bestow on 
 her the affections of a true and constant heart. His German 
 ideas, his philosophical systems, his enthusiasm, and his naive 
 and simple bearing enchanted her ! Why had she not met him 
 at an earlier day? Neither his religion nor the objections of 
 his family would have prevented a union between her and him ; 
 and by his side she would have enjoyed that happiness which 
 she considered the greatest and most enviable : a union with a 
 beloved husband. " I shall compel my daughter to marry the 
 man whom she loves," she would often say, with a sigh, when 
 thinking of her own disappointments. 
 
 But then, was her case really hopeless ?
 
 THE NEW PARIS. 319 
 
 ' M. lie Stael would not have objected to a divorce, provided 
 he received a suitable pecuniary compensation for the loss of 
 his wife. He was, moreover, old and infirm, and by no means 
 disposed to husband his strength ; so his life could not be of 
 long duration. 
 
 . But could Madame de Stael broach the possibility of such a 
 solution of her union with her husband ? 
 
 Benjamin Constant evaded every conversation whose drift 
 was in that direction, and so she contented herself with the 
 expectation that his growing attachment to her would lead to 
 that declaration for which she longed so intently. 
 
 Meanwhile she guided his steps in the path which his ambi- 
 tion and hankering after popularity had caused him to enter, 
 and rejoiced at his success. 
 
 In autumn Talleyrand returned likewise, and hastened to 
 thank her for her intercession in his behalf. He had been at 
 Hamburg, where Madame de Genlis lived in exile, and brought 
 Madame de Stael news in regard to the life which her present 
 rival and former idol was leading in that city. The love 
 affairs, however, in which he had engaged in Hamburg-, he 
 took good care not to mention. 
 
 Madame de Stael was occupied with her toilet when Talley- 
 rand sent in his name ; and, in consonance with the custom of 
 that period, she received him in her dressing-room. M'lle 
 Olive dressed her while she herself rolled a small green twig 
 between her fingers. Like all vivacious persons, she had to 
 keep her hands busy in this manner in order to divert her nat- 
 ural restlessness. Standing before her large mirror, she con- 
 versed with him in the most animated manner, when suddenly 
 the beautiful Madame Recamier, dressed in white, entered the 
 room and seated herself on a light-blue sofa, bordered with 
 gold. Talleyrand had risen at her entrance in order to bow to
 
 320 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 her, and he now remained standing before her with an air of 
 ardent admiration. The beautiful lady gayly chatted with 
 Madame de Stael for a few minutes about the manner in. 
 which they could pass the day. She then disappeared as 
 noiselessly as she had come. 
 
 " How beautiful and charming she is ! " exclaimed Talley : 
 rand. 
 
 "She is an angel!" warmly replied Madame de Stacl. "I 
 did not get acquainted with her until recently, at the sale of 
 my father's house, which she purchased. She was very bashful 
 on that occasion ; she was afraid of my intellectual superiority, 
 and I had considerable difficulty in winning her. But now she 
 is mine. "We are tenderly attached to one another. She lives 
 at Chateau Clichy, and is but rarely in Paris, inasmuch as she 
 is afraid of the great world. At her Chateau she sees a great 
 many Interesting persons, among whom is also Lucien Bona- 
 parte, whose affections she has completely won. But what 
 heart could remain indifferent to such a charming person- 
 age?" 
 
 " Mine, I hope," replied Talleyrand, jocularly. " "Women 
 cause us so much more pain than joy, that it really seems tome 
 they must have been created in order to punish us rather than 
 to gladden our hearts, unless they possess such a gifted mind 
 as yours." 
 
 Madame de Stael took no notice of this compliment, and 
 recommended her new protege to the kind favor of the experi- 
 enced politician. 
 
 " You ask me to be so disinterested as to promote the inter- 
 ests of a young man who is evidently dear to your heart ? " 
 he said, smilingly. 
 
 " I am sure you do not expect me to solicit your influence 
 in behalf of my enemies ? " she asked, laughing.
 
 THE NEW PARIS. 321 
 
 " Very well. But in what way can I serve him ? " 
 
 " By teaching him to turn circumstances adroitly to account." 
 " You are a dangerous woman," he replied ; " for you see 
 through my policy as you once saw through my heart." 
 
 "Until you locked the door of it," she interrupted him, 
 laughingly; " for you felt that I might discover too much in 
 it." 
 
 " Ah, those were glorious times," said Talleyrand, covering 
 his smooth forehead with his white hand. " Now I am grow- 
 ing old, and no one cares any more for me." 
 
 " You cannot be in earnest. You really do not look like a 
 man determined to renounce the pleasures of life. But tell me 
 now, how do you like our republican Paris ? How did it 
 strike you ? " 
 
 " Citoyenne Stael, I find the tone somewhat vulgar, and the 
 language rather coarse and blunt. One believes at times to 
 have descended into the kitchen of one's hotel." 
 
 " The Parisians speak, at all events, a very plain and expres- 
 sive language ; they use no smooth words, no unnecessary 
 phrases. BufiFon would laugh at his florid style, if he should 
 compare it with his plain and sober language." 
 
 Thus the aristocratic classes laughed and joked about repub- 
 lican France, and a society of young cavaliers who called 
 themselves Incroyables even marched about publicly, and de- 
 rided the manners and costume of the new democracy. 
 
 Madame cle Stael disliked the new tone of society, and the 
 social changes brought about by the Revolution ; but she ac- 
 quiesced in everything, inasmuch as the droit de Vhomme, to 
 which she still adhered as ardently as ever, could not be se- 
 cured in any other way. 
 
 Benjamin Constant was now her inseparable companion ; 
 she clung to him with all her wishes and hopes, and built on 
 14*
 
 322 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 him both the happiness of her future and that of the present 
 moment. 
 
 She appropriated, as it were, his talents, and turned them to 
 account. He often painfully felt the fetters which she thus 
 imposed on him. Whenever he made an attempt to free 
 himself from her influence, she flew into a towering passion, 
 and overwhelmed him with a flood of reproaches and tears. 
 He longed to escape from her, and yet he could not do with- 
 out her. 
 
 "Jamaisje rfaiete aime commefaime," she said to him, mourn- 
 fully, one day ; and, more profoundly moved by the reproach- 
 ful expression of her eyes than by the vehement words of her 
 passion, he came near betraying his secret to her. Kneeling 
 down before her, and pressing her beautiful hands to his Lps, 
 he said : " Would to God I had been at liberty to offer you my 
 whole heart." 
 
 "At liberty!" she exclaimed, in the utmost agits. ion. 
 " What do you mean, Constant ? Pray do not goad n e ta 
 madness by such terrible allusions !" 
 
 Instead of disclosing anything to her, he reassured het 
 again, on seeing the state of mind into which his words had 
 thrown her. 
 
 Thus passed the summer. Benjamin Constant was at work 
 upon his book, Les Effete de la Terreur, and issued his Reactions 
 Poliliques. 
 
 He was now carried away more and more by the political 
 current, and allowed himself to be guided by this gifted lady, 
 who used him as a tool of her ambition. The solemn festival 
 of the promulgation of the Constitution was celebrated ; it was 
 the Constitution of the year III, that was offered to France ; 
 and the excitement ran very high in Paris, when this palla- 
 dium of national liberty was publicly read.
 
 THE NEW PAPJS. 323 
 
 Benjamin Constant could certainly not remain a passive' 
 looker-on at a moment when he saw a whole nation in a blaze 
 of excitement ; and Madame de Stael had no difficulty in per- 
 suading him to cuter the public arena at this juncture, and ren- 
 der his name famous. So he published in the newspapers 
 three letters in opposition to the decree by which two-thirds of 
 the members of the Convention were to enter the new Na- 
 tional Assembly. These letters created the greatest sensation. 
 Everybody wanted to get acquainted with the author. He was 
 overwhelmed with the most flattering invitations, and the 
 most beautiful ladies tried to ingratiate themselves with him, 
 and offered him their protection. 
 
 These singular demonstrations opened his eyes. He per- 
 ceived that he had defended a cause to which he was hostile 
 at heart ; and this first misstep in his political career taught 
 him henceforth to be more prudent. He had found out how 
 difficult it is for a man to take back what he has once said, and, 
 at the same time, how humiliating it is to be praised for a 
 grievous blunder. 
 
 The young stranger had now made his name famous. He 
 could no longer act the humble protege of Madame de Stael. 
 She was proud of his successes, and yet it was painful for her 
 to feel eveiy now and then that he had now less need of her 
 than heretofore. She followed him in thought at every step 
 he made. Whenever he left her, she asked him when he would 
 return to her ; and when he tarried too long, he found her in 
 an agony of impatience, and her beautiful eyes bathed in tears. 
 
 This state of dependence often tried his patience severely ; 
 still, he was unable to free himself from it. 
 
 She wished to visit her father and her children before the be- 
 ginning of winter, and to take the latter to Paris in case 
 Necker should not miss their presence.
 
 324 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 " Will you accompany me to Coppet ? " she said to Benjamin 
 Constant. 
 
 He looked at her in surprise. 
 
 " I ? " he asked at last. " What would the world, what 
 would M. de Stael say to that, and how should I be able to 
 meet your father and your children, after undermining the 
 reputation of their mother ? " 
 
 " This answer is dictated by your head, but not by your 
 heart," she said, angrily, and stepped to the window. His reply 
 had mortified her deeply. She was at a loss to understand 
 his course. He was attached to her ; she had no doubt that he 
 longed to be with her, and yet he seemed to shrink from the 
 idea of uniting his destiny with hers. She sighed profoundly. 
 It was always the same story ; she met again and again with 
 men who, weak and vacillating, could not make up their 
 minds either to belong to her, or to break with her. 
 
 PJiedre was performed for the benefit of M'lle Contat, the 
 price of admission having been raised to three times the usual 
 rate. Constant sat at the opera behind Madame de Stael, 
 while her husband passed the evening behind the scenes, and 
 presenting to the actress costly gifts, for which his wife had 
 to pay. The luxury that was now displayed in Paris was 
 greater than ever, and the number of brilliant festivities and 
 equipages was constantly on the increase. The ladies had 
 recovered their power. On the 4th of October Madame de 
 Stael heard for the first time the name Napoleon, which was 
 to become so fatal to her ; and Napoleon soon wrote to his 
 brother Joseph, " Every woman should pass six months in Paris 
 in order to learn how powerful she is, and what is due to her." 
 
 It was difficult for Madame de Stael to leave Paris at this 
 juncture; yet she yielded to her father's wishes, and set out 
 for Coppet.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 GUILT AND EXPIATION. 
 
 WHEN Madame de Stael, on the morning after her return 
 from Coppet, sat hi deshabille at the breakfast-table, Mathieu 
 de Montmorency entered her room. She greeted with loud 
 joy the friend who was so dear to her heart. He had been the 
 hero of the most beautiful dreams of her youth ; and no 
 woman ever forgets such reminiscences. 
 
 She was overjoyed to see him once more in his native 
 country, in his wonted surroundings, and in the same city with 
 her. " You were wanting to me, Montmorency ! " she said, 
 holding out to him her beautiful hand, and tenderly fixing 
 her large eyes on him. " Even though France may not have 
 become what we wished to make of her, she has at all events 
 gained a great deal. Grievous abuses have been abolished, 
 the rights of man are acknowledged, and all men are equal 
 before the law. These are steps forward in the path of human- 
 ity, which we must not lose sight of when the imperfection of 
 our constitution makes a disagreeable impression on us." 
 
 " Let us say no more about it," said Montmorency, with a de- 
 precating gesture, while a shudder ran through his frame. " I 
 saw my only brother die on the scaffold, and no one can ever 
 forget such a scene. The remembrance of it follows me at 
 every step. The streets of Paris are in my eyes drenched in 
 blood ; a constitution written with a guillotine is abhorrent ; and 
 so are the rights of man, asserted as it were by wholesale as-
 
 326 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 sassination. My past life was an error which I shall repent of 
 all my lifetime." 
 
 She vainly endeavored to excite his interest in the political 
 events of the day. His eyes would not kindle when she spoke 
 of her hopes in regard to them, and her most impassioned 
 appeals met with no response from him. He said he would 
 devote his strength only to deeds of charity, and to expiation. 
 
 She looked at him mournfully. He was no longer the youth- 
 ful hero who spoke so ardently of the happiness of mankind, 
 and sacrificed so readily his name, his fortune, his whole self 
 to the welfare of France. How quickly this enchanting dream 
 had vanished ! In the prime of life, handsome and strong, he 
 displayed the resignation of an old man. A life destitute of 
 hopes and wishes, is the mere prelude to death. 
 
 She paced her room repeatedly in great agitation, while 
 these thoughts passed through her niind. Her breast heaved 
 profound sighs. It always costs a struggle to part with the 
 companions of a period of our life which has taken root in 
 our soul in this manner. She asked herself if she had not 
 likewise grown poorer in hopes, and had ceased to wish. But 
 she did not wait for the reply which frightened her. She clung 
 fearfully to the blade which her hand still was able to grasp, 
 lest her life should become utterly aimless and blank. 
 
 She had nothing to regret, nothing to lament, inasmuch as 
 only the prompter's part had fallen to her share. 
 
 They parted in deep emotion. Both of them felt that hence- 
 forth they could no longer love in each other what they 
 prized highest, and that they had to share each other's sensi- 
 bilities, and that they had to use the past as the base of the 
 friendly feeling of the present. 
 
 She glanced at the clock after he had left her. The hour 
 had come when she looked for Benjamin Constant, but he did
 
 GUILT AND EXPIATION. 327 
 
 not make his appearance. She counted the minutes in an 
 agony of impatience. To-day she had more need of him than 
 ever before. The impression which Montmorency had left on 
 her mind was so crushing, that she longed to derive strength 
 and comfort from his fresh and hopeful beiug. With him, she 
 could dream of a brilliant future. 
 
 He tarried long beyond the appointed time. When he 
 made his appearance at last, she feigned to be absorbed in a 
 book, and took no notice of him. This irritated him, and he 
 said, " You have no need of me to-day ; so I will leave you 
 immediately. I am sorry for the precious time which I have 
 lost in coming to you." 
 
 A violent scene ensued. Constant complained of the re- 
 straints which she imposed on him, and of her distrust, which 
 called him to account at every step he made. She burst into 
 tears, and as usual he was vanquished. But he could not take 
 back the harsh words which he had uttered, nor could she for- 
 get them.. The worst consequence arising from such scenes is 
 that the reproaches uttered on those occasions are certain to be 
 repeated sooner or later. 
 
 Imprudent as she always was, she had not locked her door. 
 M. de Stael suddenly entered the room in the midst of this 
 scene. He looked in surprise at the tearful eyes of his wife, and 
 cast a contemptuous glance at the young man who stood before 
 him in confusion, and did not know what excuse he should 
 offer to him. 
 
 " Inasimich as your conversation seems to afford but little 
 pleasure to Madame de Stael, I believe it would be best for you 
 not to visit our house any longer," he said, with frigid politeness. 
 
 Constant drew himself up to his full height, took his hat, and 
 left the room. 
 
 Madame de Stael sent an imploring glance after him, but ho
 
 328 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 took no notice of it. In despair at the insulting manner in 
 which her friend had been driven from her house, she now 
 vented her anger on her husband. 
 
 " I do not know, sir, what right you have to meddle with my 
 private affairs in this manner," she said, in a proud tone. " I 
 think it should be left to myself to get rid of acquaintances 
 whom I dislike, and you should refrain from anticipating me 
 in this respect. You have grievously insulted M. cle Rebecque, 
 and I now ask you to beg his pardon." 
 
 " I do not deem it incumbent on me to use very prudent 
 language toward a young adventurer who forces himself as a 
 parasite into my house," replied M. de Stael, coldly. " As to 
 you, Madame, I ask you not to sully a name which your chil- 
 dren are going to bear. If you are unable to perform your duty 
 as a wife, you will, as a mother, certainly take pains to submit 
 to the rules of decorum and propriety." 
 
 " Your reproaches are utterly groundless," she said, coldly. 
 
 " All I have to say on this point is, that the wife of the 
 Swedish Embassador receives a young stranger at the most 
 unseasonable hours of the day, and enacts with him noisy 
 scenes, to which all the servants may listen at the doors. That 
 seems to me sufficient. You have always regarded imprudent 
 steps, which scandalized the world, as eminently praiseworthy ; 
 and I overlooked many of them, engrossed as my attention was 
 by political affairs ; but now I have leisure to watch over 
 your honor, which is mine, too, as long as you bear my name." 
 
 " An honor for which my father has paid half my fortune ; 
 I should think that that made us even, sir." 
 
 " Not quite," he replied, coldly. 
 
 " What else do you want ? " 
 
 " I want you to discontinue your acquaintance with Con 
 stant."
 
 GUILT AND EXPIATION. 329 
 
 " In that case I suppose I am at liberty to ask you to pursue 
 the same course toward your fair friends ? " she asked, sarcas- 
 tically. 
 
 " No," he said, with icy calmness. " A man's position in 
 the world is different from that of a woman. I may defy pub- 
 lic opinion, but you must bow to it." 
 
 " But what if I refuse to do so ?" 
 
 " You must, then, stand the consequences. I am the master 
 of this house, and the servants have hands to eject intruders." 
 
 So saying, he rose and left the room. 
 
 Madame de Stael sank to the floor in an agony of grief and 
 despair. It took her a long time to regain composure enough 
 to ring for her maid and dress herself. When she had finished 
 her toilet, she left, on foot, her house, to which she did not in- 
 tend to return. 
 
 When Benjamin Constant, at a late hour in the evening, re- 
 turned to his house, he was informed that a lady, who insisted 
 on seeing him, was waiting for him. 
 
 He hastened up-stairs in dismay, and entered his room. 
 
 At his entrance Madame de Stael rose and came to meet him 
 with a timid air. 
 
 " For God's sake," he exclaimed, in an undertone, locking the 
 door anxiously, lest inquisitive persons should disturb them, 
 " for God's sake, what brought you here ? " 
 
 She told him what had happened. 
 
 " And what are you going to do ? " he asked, anxiously. 
 
 "I count upon you," she said, timidly. 
 
 " Upon me ! " cried Constant, as if in despair, burying his 
 face in his hands. " Upon me ! Have mercy on me, and take 
 back these words ! It is time yet ; your house is still open to 
 you. Do not lose a moment. Every minute is precious. Tie- 
 member your children. Remember your" old father, and the
 
 330 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 honorable name which you bear." He implored her by all 
 that was sacred to her, not to venture so desperate a step which 
 could never be retrieved. She listened to him with a mourn- 
 ful air. 
 
 " If you turn me out, very well ; I shall go to a hotel," she 
 said, with an expression which made him tremble. No matter 
 what he said to her, she turned a deaf ear to his appeals. 
 
 " You are the last hope of my life," she repeated to him. " I 
 am forbidden to receive you at my house. Well, then, I shall 
 see you elsewhere. M. de Stael can do without me ; but I can- 
 not do without you." 
 
 " But you cannot intend to take up your residence in these 
 humble rooms," he objected ; " they do not offer you any comfort 
 whatever." 
 
 She now cast the first glance at her surroundings. A smile 
 lit up her features as she did so. " Yes, I see your rooms do 
 not allow you to receive your friends here," she then said. 
 
 " Well, then, you can and will not stay here ; so you will 
 now return to your house. I shall get you a carriage. As yet 
 you can go back without exciting any suspicion. To-morrow 
 you will try to find a house suitable to your circumstances ; as 
 soon as you are there, send for me, and I shall hasten to you." 
 
 He threw himself at her feet and implored her to comply 
 with his wishes. She looked at him compassionately. 
 
 " I shall go," she said, " but alone." 
 
 So saying, she rose and left the room. 
 
 Constant remained in a state of indescribable anxiety. He 
 did not touch his bed, but paced his room all night long, and 
 shudderingly looked forward to the coining clay. He was de- 
 termined not to go to the house of the Swedish Embassador 
 to inquire whether or not Madame de Stael was there. He 
 would not cross the threshold of that house again.
 
 GUILT AND EXPIATION. 331 
 
 He was still in hopes that she would rue a resolution which 
 he clearly foresaw would be fatal to her reputation. He passed 
 the day in a constant tempest of perplexity, hope, and fear. 
 Already he had tried to persuade himself that her continued 
 silence was owing to her return to her husband, and her proba- 
 ble determination to stay with him, when he received from her 
 a note in which she requested him to come to her. She 
 begged him not to object to her invitation on account of its 
 being written at her husband's house ; she would remain there, 
 but he would henceforth reach her rooms by another door, 
 inasmuch as she had taken possession of the house which be- 
 longed to her, and had granted to M. de Stael a suite of rooms, 
 where he would now live entirely by himself and be his own 
 master. 
 
 Constant, agitated by conflicting emotions, hastened to com- 
 ply with her request. He could not upbraid her for what she 
 had done. He felt that she was making sacrifices for which he 
 was unable to indemnify her ; and he perceived this in moments 
 of calmness, the more as, at bottom, she had good cause to be 
 dissatisfied with him. What other woman would have borne 
 to see him accept the sacrifices which she made to him, without 
 offering her his hand and the protection of his name ? He felt, 
 to his shame, that his conduct could not but give rise to the 
 most unpleasant misconstructions. 
 
 Although her separation from her husband was by no means 
 strange, rumor was not long in inventing a thousand ridiculous 
 stories in regard to the cause which led to it. Her name was 
 soon on all lips, and she could not prevent people from circu- 
 lating the most unpleasant rumors about her. This was most 
 painful to her ambition and pride. She had made an immense 
 sacrifice, and was not even allowed to complain of the conse- 
 quences, against which Constant had cautioned her so elo-
 
 332 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 quently. So she kept silence and devoted herself to politics 
 and to the interests of her friend even more zealously and 
 energetically than before. 
 
 Marmontel was now elected to the Council of Ancients, and 
 therefore returned to Paris. 
 
 She met her old friend in visible confusion. " You must not 
 be angry with me," she said to him, bursting into tears. " I 
 have need of some one who shares my life, and whose interests 
 are my own. (Test ma nature ainsi. I cannot walk my path 
 alone. Would to God I could ! But I cannot. I am not like 
 other women. If I see that happiness is within my reach, and 
 I am not to enjoy it because the so-called rules of decorum for- 
 bid me to do so, I cannot obey them. God has given me a 
 heart which throbs impetuously. It has carried me away to 
 many a good deed which I had to perform with great self- 
 abnegation ; and if it now for once urges me to do something 
 gratifying to myself, I must yield to it likewise." 
 
 Marmontel folded her to his heart with paternal tenderness. 
 " I pity you," he said, " but I do not censure you. Those 
 whose emotions are powerful, will every now and then slightly 
 overstep the rules of decorum. Let them be called to account 
 for it by Him who gave them such a nature." 
 
 No less unexpectedly than Marmontel had been called into 
 the Council of Ancients, he saw that body dissolved, and him- 
 self sent back to St. Brice, where he died soon after. 
 
 Moreau commanded the army of the Rhine at this juncture ; 
 Bonaparte was at the head of the French troops in Italy; and 
 Madame de Stael watched attentively the glorious career of the 
 two young heroes. The free press took pains to lay all the 
 news from the seat of war before the public, and there was so 
 much stirring intelligence to relate and read that the daya 
 were not lon enough for doing so.
 
 GUILT AND EXPIATION. 333 
 
 Constant had become a member of the Salrn Club, which op- 
 posed the Directory. He was soon after elected Secretary of 
 this Club, in which, by the aid of Madame de Stael, he was all- 
 powerful. She was now desirous of procuring Talleyrand, 
 too, a position suitable to his talents, and by their joint efforts 
 he obtained the appointment of Minister of Foreign Affairs. 
 In return, he wished to recommend Constant to Bonaparte. 
 But Bonaparte was already prejudiced against him, owing to 
 his speeches in the Salin Club, where he had inveighed with 
 brilliant eloquence against all hereditary privileges, and gen- 
 erally assumed a tone which seemed objectionable to the fu- 
 ture of France, and caused him to decline his services.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 MADAME DE MONTE9SON. 
 
 MADAME DE MONTESSON, who had been secretly married to 
 the Duke of Orleans, received at her house in the Rue Mont 
 Blanc, on the corner of the Rue de Provence, a circle of the 
 most eminent Parisians, among whom was also M. de Talley- 
 rand. Here he formed the acquaintance of Josephine Beau- 
 harnais, and conceived the plan of bringing about a union 
 between her and the General-in-Chief of the army of Italy. 
 
 Madame de Stael had long since ardently admired the young 
 hero, and longed to get acquainted with him. At Madame de 
 Montesson's house she had at last an opportunity to do so. 
 
 Talleyrand had informed her that she would meet him there 
 on a certain evening, and she did not fail to be present on that 
 occasion. Easily excited by every new acquaintance she 
 made, especially when, as on this occasion, she was swayed by 
 her imagination, which depicted the young hero in the most 
 glowing colors to her, she looked in breathless suspense for- 
 ward to the moment of his arrival. 
 
 She had chosen a very simple toilet, because she had been 
 told that the General disliked too gorgeously dressed women. 
 She wore a white satin dress, beautifully trimmed with lace; 
 her arms and neck bare, and red-velvet ribbon studded with 
 pearls wound round her short and curly hair. 
 
 " How beautifully you are dressed ! " said Talleyrand, gaz-
 
 MADAME DE MONTESSO^. 335 
 
 ing at her admiringly. "Would I could think you had done 
 so for me ! " 
 
 " Oh, you do not wish it, Talleyrand. Such an aMen'ion 
 would only embarrass you. Your heart is by far too large to 
 be a suitable present for one lady." 
 
 " You know that there are so many amiable ladies that I 
 cannot bestow my exclusive admiration upon one of them," 
 he replied, with a polite smile toward the other ladies. 
 
 " Suppose we were at sea, and should be shipwrecked ; to 
 which lady would you offer your hand at the moment of danger, 
 in order to save her ? " 
 
 " Not to you, car wus nayez si Men, Madame." 
 
 An answer of this description enchanted Madame de Stael. 
 She admired this skill of getting so advantageously out of a 
 difficulty, the more as she was deficient in it. Persons who 
 speak much and well, and like to hear themselves, never are 
 noted for skill at repartee. 
 
 " You are irresistible whenever you wish to be so," she said, 
 taking his arm in order to pace the not very large room till 
 Bonaparte's arrival. It was long after midnight when he en- 
 tered the room. Madame de Stael watched him attentively 
 while he paid his respects to Madame de Montesson. Her ima- 
 gination had drawn a widely different portrait of the young 
 hero, and she had now to recover from her surprise before she 
 was able to meet him with composure. She had fancied that 
 he was much taller. His somewhat awkward and embarrassed 
 bearing made an unfavorable impression in a salon. He lis- 
 tened to the polite welcome of Madame de Montesson with an 
 air of superiority which displeased her. He was at home only 
 on the battle-field. 
 
 Many persons thronged around him already. Talleyrand, 
 disengaging himself from Madame de Stael's arm, approached
 
 336 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 Bonaparte and whispered to him that Necker's daughter wished 
 to get acquainted with him. 
 
 "Je riaiinepas lesfemmes qui se melent de politique" he said, 
 briefly. 
 
 " Well, in a country where their heads are cut off, they like 
 to know the reason why it is done," replied Talleyrand, smil- 
 ing. 
 
 Bonaparte then allowed him to conduct him to her. 
 
 Madame de Stael had overheard his words. Instead of meet- 
 ing with admiration at his hand, she found that he was preju- 
 diced against her. This vexed her. 
 
 He said to her that he was very sorry not to have formed 
 her father's acquaintance during his journey, although he had 
 gone to Coppet in order to pay him a visit. M. Necker had 
 not been at home. 
 
 She replied to him without much presence of mind. All 
 that she had intended to say to him had vanished from her 
 memory as soon as she discovered that he would never admire, 
 never love her. This discovery plunged her soul into the 
 deepest gloom. She could not appear otherwise than she was ; 
 and if he refused to pay homage to her gifted mind, she felt 
 full well that their meeting could not but make a painful im- 
 pression upon each of them. 
 
 Thus she foresaw their mutual relations from the very first, 
 and henceforth she opposed, with Constant, his progress toward 
 a position which was to destroy the whole structure of her 
 ardent hopes. 
 
 She soon after saw the day when the word Citoyen, which 
 she still regarded as an expression of the acknowledged rights 
 of man, w r as changed into the humiliating term Subjects; she 
 saw that, despite all the thundering speeches of her protege, 
 the rights of birth were reinstated in their former importance ;
 
 MADAME DE MONTESSON. 337 
 
 she had to follow the nation step by step to the old regime;, 
 and the only reward which she received for her sacrifices and 
 efforts to oppose this reactionary movement, was persecution, 
 and finally exile from a city which was vital to her existence. 
 At a distance from Paris she merely vegetated, and her tears 
 flowed constantly during the slow and tedious days. 
 
 Madame de Stael now met Bonaparte frequently in society, 
 while he was preparing for his expedition to Egypt; but she 
 no longer sought to approach him. She was already afraid of 
 him. The laconic questions which he always propounded to 
 those with whom he conversed, were distasteful to her. She 
 called this peculiarity of his a " vocation naturelle pour Vetat de 
 prince" and deemed it contrary to good breeding to ask of others 
 information about their affairs, which they did not offer of 
 their own accord. " Are you married ? " " How many chil- 
 dren have you ? " " When did you arrive ? " " When are you 
 going to leave ? " Who had a right to address a citizen of the 
 republic in this manner? 
 
 She censured Talleyrand for not calling his attention to the 
 fact that his conduct was impertinent; but he escaped her, as 
 usual, by a witty phrase. 
 
 The world had ceased noticing the fact that M. de Stael did 
 not appear any longer in the apartments of his wife, and Ben- 
 jamin Constant met no more with reproaches and allusions 
 which were indescribably painful to him. 
 
 Switzerland being threatened with invasion, Madame de Stael 
 left Paris in January, 1798, and hastened to Coppet. Her 
 father's name was still on the list of French exiles, and in 
 case one of these exiles was apprehended in a country occu- 
 pied by French troops, his life was forfeited. 
 
 She tried to persuade Necker to leave Coppet, but he refused 
 to do so.
 
 338 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 " At my age," he said, " one must not wander about the 
 world." 
 
 He would not leave his wife's tomb. As she had never left 
 him during her lifetime, so he wished to remain near her in 
 death. 
 
 It was a fine morning in midwinter when they were in- 
 formed that the French were approaching. Madame de Stael 
 and her father stepped out upon the balcony of the chateau, 
 where they surveyed the long alley, and awaited the arrival of 
 the troops. The air was so pure, the sky so blue, the water of 
 the lake so transparent, that the lofty summits of the Alps were 
 reflected in it. The sound of the drums fell on their ears from 
 afar, and filled Madame de Stael with anxiety for her father's 
 life. 
 
 At the moment when the French troops crossed the frontier, 
 she noticed that an officer left the ranks and rode toward the 
 chttteau. She awaited his arrival tremblingly. 
 
 The Directory had commissioned him to inform M. Necker 
 that a safeguard had been granted to him. The bearer of this 
 news was Suchet, who afterwards became a Marshal of the 
 Empire, and who performed his mission in the most courteous 
 and pleasant manner. 
 
 Madame de Stael was now reassured as to her father's fate ; 
 but she watched the course of events in Switzerland with 
 incessant anxiety. The first battle took place soon after. 
 Although Coppet is thirty leagues from Berne, the echoes of the 
 distant mountains wafted the roar of artillery over to them 
 and struck terror into her heart. She scarcely dared to breathe 
 while the struggle continued, and Necker suffered even more 
 than his daughter from this war, which France, his adopted 
 country, waged against his small fatherland. The French 
 were able to drive back the Swiss forces, but they could not
 
 MADAIVIE DE MONTESSON". 339 
 
 conquer Switzerland ; for the will of a united people, no mat- 
 ter how small it may be, renders it invincible. 
 
 On the famous 18th of Brumaire she returned to Paris. 
 While her horses were changed at the last station, she was 
 told that Barras, escorted by gcnsd'armes, had just passed by 
 on his w r ay to his villa at Grosbois. All along the road she no 
 longer heard the people speak of the National Assembly, but 
 only of Bonaparte. 
 
 Scarcely had she reached the house when Benjamin Con- 
 stant entered her room. 
 
 " Our cause is lost!" he said, sitting down in front of hei 
 with a desponding air. " This Corsican is master of the situ- 
 ation." 
 
 " At the first moment already you speak to me de ce petit 
 Tiommef" she asked, deeply mortified. 
 
 "I know that you love your country better than yourself and 
 me," he said, in confusion. 
 
 " Still it would not have offended me if you had forgotten 
 France for my sake for a moment," she replied, reproachfully. 
 
 After regaining her composure, she begged him to commu- 
 nicate to her all that had happened, and now almost regretted 
 having stayed so long at Coppet, believing as she did that her 
 presence might have prevented much mischief. 
 
 " We shall have to bow to the dictator's power," he said, 
 " or share the fate of Barras." 
 
 A shudder ran through Madame de Stael's frame at the" 
 mere thought The phantom of ennui, which always pur- 
 sued her, rose before her more terrible than ever. Neverthe- 
 less, she felt that she must not and could not prove faithless to 
 the cause of humanity, and must defend the Droit de V7ioinme to 
 her last breath. In this spirit she now spoke to Constant, and 
 the lofty and noble enthusiasm which she breathed, fascinated
 
 340 MADAME 1)E STAEL. 
 
 him again as irresistibly as ever. His heart belonged to M'lle 
 de Hardenberg ; but his head loved and admired Madame de 
 Stael. 
 
 While Bonaparte's power became daily more unlimited, and 
 while his heroic deeds captivated the imagination and dazzled 
 the judgment of the people more and more, the opposition re- 
 doubled its efforts to conjure up a counter-revolution, and to 
 depict in glowing colors the dangers threatening the cause of 
 liberty. 
 
 The mouth-piece of this party was Benjamin Constant; the 
 spirit animating his speeches was that of Madame de Stael. 
 
 He published a history of the Revolution of 1660, which 
 gave great umbrage to Bonaparte and his adherents. He pre- 
 pared, furthermore, a speech, which was to depict the dawn of 
 the new despotism. This subject was in consonance with the 
 views of his gifted friend, and although she was well aware of 
 the dangers which might arise for her from this significant 
 manifestation, she was determined not to deprive her protege 
 of this brilliant triumph for the sake of her own safety. 
 
 For some time past she had been acquainted with Joseph 
 and Lucien Bonaparte. The former was even warmly at- 
 tached to her; he did not share his brother's prejudice 
 against gifted women ; her views about liberty and the rights 
 of man were not at variance with his opinions and schemes ; 
 so he gladly yielded to the charm of her conversation, and 
 passed the most agreeable hours at her house. 
 
 Meanwhile, the day when Benjamin Constant was to deliver 
 his speech, was drawing nigh. On the eve of this important 
 demonstration, Madame de Stael had gathered around her a 
 circle of friends, most of whom, tired as they were of political 
 convulsions and of persecution, were ready to acquiesce m 
 any measures of the Government, provided it did not disturb
 
 MADAME DE MONTESSON. 341 
 
 them any more. They were engaged in the most pleasant and 
 animated conversation, which the lady of the house illuminated 
 with the incessant coruscations of her genius. 
 
 Constant gazed musingly upon the company. He fixed hig 
 eyes thoughtfully on his fair friend, who chatted so gayly and 
 looked so serene, as he had not seen her for a long time past. 
 
 Suddenly he rose, approached her, and whispered in her 
 ear : 
 
 " Look at this circle of eminent men now gracing your salon; 
 when I have delivered my speech, all of them will desert you ; 
 do not forget that." 
 
 " I cannot be recreant to my convictions," she said, in her 
 enthusiasm for the good cause, which she thought she was pro- 
 moting. To an uncertain success she was ready to sacrifice 
 her own existence, but only because she had miscalculated the 
 consequences of this step. But no one is able to swim alone 
 against the tide without becoming a martyr to his cause. 
 
 She threw down the gauntlet to Bonaparte, and he took 
 it up. 
 
 Benjamin Constant delivered his speech. 
 
 Madame de Stael had invited a few friends to dinner on that 
 day. When the clock struck five, one of the guests sent her a 
 note, excusing his inability to be present ; another note of the 
 same tenor arrived a few minutes after, and finally no one re- 
 mained to share her dinner but Constant himself. 
 
 They sat opposite to one another in silence. 
 
 Despite her efforts to conceal her vexation, she was unable 
 to do so ; but she felt that she would not be justified in vent- 
 ing her disappointment on her protege. 
 
 Joseph Bonaparte was severely rebuked by his brother for 
 visiting the house of a woman animated by such sentiments. 
 Since that time he no longer ventured to appear at her house,
 
 342 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 and his example was generally imitated. Even those who 
 had hitherto shared her opinions, now denounced her loudly, 
 and disapproved what they had formerly advocated. She was 
 severely censured for having assisted Talleyrand in obtaining 
 a seat in the cabinet ; and yet the same men who blamed her 
 on this account, flocked to Talleyrand's house and praised 
 every step he took. 
 
 This inconsistency gave much pain to Madame de Stael. 
 For the first time she now experienced a feeling of bitterness 
 which had never stolen upon her before. It was not fate, but 
 the injustice of men that gave rise to it. 
 
 Owing to her natural and almost irresistible communica- 
 tiveness, she had the utmost difficulty in restraining her im- 
 petuous feelings ; and the consequence of this was, that her 
 intercourse with Benjamin Constant became exceedingly 
 painful. Both of them were vexed and dejected, and silently 
 charged each other with having caused their misfortune, with- 
 out venturing to confess it. 
 
 Fouche, the Police Minister, sent for Madame de Stael and 
 informed her that the First Consul ascribed Benjamin Con- 
 stant's speech to her. He had no proofs; general reflections 
 on the liberty and rights of nations, devoid of personal allu- 
 sions, were no crime. 
 
 Such was her reply ; and Fouche, admitting the pertinency 
 
 of her answer, advised her to leave Paris for a time, in order 
 
 \ 
 that the matter might be forgotten. 
 
 She returned, deeply dejected, to her house. She was exiled, 
 then exiled from a city which she loved so dearly exiled, as 
 it were, of her own accord. Deserted by her friends, and ex- 
 cluded from society, nothing remained for her but to flee the 
 place where her feelings wore wounded so cruelly. 
 
 She paced her apartments mournfully. She needed not
 
 MADAME DE MONTESSON. 343 
 
 to shut her doors. No one visited her. No one seemed to 
 care for her any longer. No one desired to have a seat at her 
 
 table. 
 
 She thought she had followed her convictions, and yet she 
 did not feel that tranquillity of mind proceeding from the 
 consciousness that we have sacrificed everything to our prin- 
 ciples. She did not care to fathom the cause of her present 
 state of mind, inasmuch as a low, low voice, in all probability 
 whispered that she had this time set her heart not so much 
 upon the cause alone as upon its representative, and that her 
 hatred of despotism was enhanced by the fact that Bonaparte 
 was the despot 
 
 Her hours dragged through slowly and wearily. She longed 
 to arrive at some resolution, and yet she was unable to make 
 up her mind. She was waiting for Constant in order to con- 
 sult with him. She glanced uneasily at the clock. Already 
 the hour had come when she had expected him, and he did 
 not make his appearance yet. What detained him so long 
 to-day? Did he intend to shun her likewise, because the 
 others had deserted her ? 
 
 At this moment she heard the footstep of a man in the ante- 
 room. She listened. It was not that of Benjamin Constant. 
 Mathieu de Montmorency entered the room. 
 " I hear that you are in trouble, owing to Benjamin Constant's 
 speech," he said, " and want to inquire how you are." 
 
 " So you are not afraid of visiting her whom all the rest of 
 her friends have deserted?" she exclaimed, with streaming 
 eyes; and, already relieved by the sympathy of this faithful 
 friend of hers, she told him what had occurred. 
 He listened to her calmly, until she was through. 
 Although he no longer shared her views, nor approved her 
 conduct, he was still able to sympathize with her feelings and
 
 ,344 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 pity her. He had not been at liberty to offer her his hand. 
 Had he been able to do so, how different her fate would have 
 been ! Conscious as he was of this fact, he never uttered a 
 word of censure against her, and he never proved recreant to 
 the faithful friendship which he had once pledged to her. 
 
 He now tried to sooth her and to convince her that the dis- 
 pleasure with which the First Consul looked upon her would 
 be certain to pass away in a short time. 
 
 " Accompany me to my estate for a few weeks," he said ; 
 " meanwhile the storm will blow over, and you will return to 
 Paris with fresh hopes and courage." 
 
 She looked at him in deep emotion. With such a friend life 
 was still beautiful. His very presence would comfort her, and 
 the thought that she was not utterly alone, gave her fresh 
 strength. She accepted his offer. 
 
 When he had left her, Constant arrived at last. He was in 
 a high state of irritation. That a woman should be held re- 
 sponsible for his actions, vexed him greatly; that she was con- 
 sidered dangerous, while no notice was taken of him, as if he 
 had nothing to do with the whole affair, wounded his vanity. 
 He expressed his mortification in bitter terms, without consid- 
 ering that in so doing he poured poison into an open wound. 
 
 Madame de Stael, deadly pale and panting for breath, strode 
 up and down the room while he uttered his long and bitter 
 tirade. Finally she paused, and stood still in front of him. 
 Her eyes shot fire as she fixed them on him. She then repre- 
 sented to him in a torrent of words the cruelty of his conduct 
 in wounding by harsh words a woman unhappy enough with- 
 out his reproaches, and to treat with such base ingratitude her 
 who was devoting her whole life to him, and making to him 
 eveiy sacrifice conducive to his happiness. In her rage she 
 upbraided him, for the first time, with the unmanliness of his
 
 MADAME DE MONTESSON. 345 
 
 conduct; she portrayed him in his indecision, his weakness ; 
 and told him that for his sake she had broken with her hus- 
 band and tarnished her reputation, when he had been able to 
 keep her honor unsullied. 
 
 He was unable to deny the truth of these charges, and, like 
 all wrong-doers, he defended himself by preferring against her 
 counter-charges, which she indignantly repelled because they 
 were groundless. Both of them grew moie and more excited, 
 and they used constantly more scathing and bitter language 
 in giving vent to their hatred ; this time a speedy reconcilia- 
 tion was out of the question. Hour after hour passed in this 
 useless quarrel ; and Benjamin Constant, tired of the endless 
 altercation, hastened from the room, and rushed wildly into 
 the street. Madame de Stael fainted as he closed the door 
 after him. 
 
 No sooner had he reached his room, and was alone with 
 himself, then he regretted what he had done. He was at a loss 
 to comprehend his own conduct. He tried to find reasons for 
 justifying himself in his own eyes. The hours of the night 
 slowly dragged through as he was doing so. He was up be- 
 times in the morning, and immediately went to her house, the 
 doors of which were still locked. A walk through the streets, 
 he thought, would refresh him, and give him courage to ap- 
 pear before her. After an hour's lonely promenade, he was 
 again at the street-door of her house. 
 
 The porter looked at him with surprise. " Madame de Stael 
 has left Paris," he said, wondering at Constant's ignorance of 
 her departure. 
 
 "Left Paris!" echoed Constant, pressing his hand to his 
 forehead, as if he had to compose himself in order to under- 
 stand these words.
 
 CHAPTER VII, 
 
 PAKIS IN THE TEAR 1800. 
 
 THE civilized world greeted the new century with eager 
 expectations. At its beginning, mankind had reached a turn- 
 ing-point of history, and strove for aims never known before. 
 The intellectual development of the nations of Europe had 
 made immense progress in the last fifty years. German phil- 
 osophy imbued all minds with the idea of the perfectibility 
 of the human race, and thereby gave a new stimulus to the 
 faculties of the soul. The word " perfectibility," which had 
 hitherto not been used, was now added to the language to 
 denote this idea. 
 
 France had dreamed all its political dreams. The ardent 
 love of liberty had disappeared, tranquillity and moderation 
 took its place, and the soil which had been drenched in blood 
 pushed out new shoots. A longing for enjoyment rose in all 
 minds. Art and science awoke from their slumbers, and litera- 
 ture began to shoot out new buds and blossoms. 
 
 Goethe had written his Werther. All Paris papers be- 
 Btowecl the most enthusiastic encomiums on this singular pro- 
 duction of a great genius, and the public commenced taking 
 the liveliest interest in German affairs. The sorrows of young 
 Werther filled young France with deep emotion and ardent 
 enthusiasm, and tempted many an unhappy youth to go in 
 search of similar misfortunes, and make real or imaginary sor- 
 rows the destiny of his life.
 
 PARIS -'IK THE TEAR 1800. 347 
 
 Schiller's Robbers had been performed at all theaters, and it 
 became fashionable to carry both virtues and vices to extreme 
 length. This enthusiasm of the public never thought of the 
 consequences ; it feasted its soul on fine words. Watten- 
 stein was already being rehearsed at the Berlin theater. 
 
 Frederick von Gentz issued his Report on the finances of 
 Great Britain, and the Journal de Pans never tired of com- 
 menting on this curious and interesting work. 
 
 Madame de Stael had watched this revival of literature with 
 the liveliest interest in the solitude of Coppet. It was, at bot- 
 tom, the most essential element of her life. She had grown 
 up under its influence, her childhood had drawn most of its 
 nourishment from its blossoms ; so she could no longer exist 
 without that to which she had been accustomed so long, and 
 she deemed life dull and vapid without this intellectual fra- 
 grance. 
 
 Bitter disappointments had bowed her courage and weighed 
 down her heart, and in her present state of mind she derived 
 consolation and exhileration only from literary employment. 
 She wrote and read a great deal. At the beginning of the new- 
 year she intended to publish her production, and was now pol- 
 ishing and revising her book for the last time before sending it 
 to the printer the authors of the eighteenth century having 
 taught her that the style of a writer will alone impart a true 
 and lasting value to his works. 
 
 She had chosen a grave subject. She treated of the progress 
 of mankind in the realm of the mind, as manifested in the pro- 
 ductions of literature ; and she inferred from these manifesta- 
 tions of progress that the Creator intended that the human 
 mind should become perfect, and that it was incumbent on all 
 men to strive to attain that object; in a word, she discussed 
 the question of perfectibility. She had entered upon her
 
 348 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 task with ardent courage, in order to strengthen her mind 
 and cure herself of her gloomy despondency. Since Parisian 
 society had deserted her so cruelly, she was animated by a bit- 
 terness painful to herself; for, according to her nature, she 
 could entertain only feelings of kindness and generosity to- 
 ward her fellow-creatures, and try to win their love; but this 
 love, she now asked herself what was it? What had it 
 proved to be in her case ? How they had applauded and flat- 
 tered her ; how they had praised her talents ; and yet, at a 
 beck from the First Consul, they had deserted her and passed 
 her as if they had never known her ! 
 
 So friendship and love were mere words ; for men could 
 hardly sacrifice so readily what they really esteemed and ad- 
 mired. How they could boldly exhibit the weakness of such 
 perfidy, was an enigma to her. 
 
 She had not profited by her father's experience in regard to 
 the fickleness of public opinion and popular favor ; for every 
 one believes only in what he has experienced himself. 
 
 In these days of severe trials, Mathieu de Montmorency tried 
 to soothe her by the influence of religion. She was to re- 
 cognize the finger of God in everything, and bow to him in de- 
 vout humility ; she was to perceive how immaterial it was to 
 be appreciated by men, when one was sure of his love. She 
 listened to his words ; she smiled at him gratefully when he took 
 pains to point out to her the path in which his own mind had 
 found peace ; but she did not act, upon his suggestions. Life 
 still knocked so impetuously at her doors, that she was unable 
 to appreciate the blessing of resignation. She could not bring 
 herself to submit to suffering as a salutary trial ; she desired 
 to be happy in accordance with her innate qualities, and said 
 it was the Creator's intention that man should be happy. 
 
 Her sojourn at Coppet, lirr intercourse with her father, and
 
 PARIS IN THE YEAR 1800. 349 
 
 the joy which her children afforded her, did not tranquilize hei 
 mind. The thought of the humiliation which she had suifered, 
 drew from her every morning new murmurs and complaints, 
 and moistened her eyes with new tears which her wounded 
 heart caused her to shed. She could not reconcile herself to 
 the idea that she had been deserted and treated so ignomin- 
 iously. She asked herself again and again if it was true, 
 or if some dismal dream had not deluded her ; and, whenever 
 her mind replied in the affirmative, she would wring her hands 
 despairingly. 
 
 This thought was upon her all the time. No matter where 
 she was, it did not leave her ; and an imperative voice in her 
 breast commanded her to reconquer her position in society. 
 Necker grieved profoundly at his daughter's despondency, and 
 vainly tried to cheer her up. What was to be done about it? 
 How could he help her ? 
 
 Benjamin Constant had not been able to bear the separation 
 from her a long time. With his usual weakness, he had fol- 
 lowed her. She received him coldly. His words of repentance, 
 his protestations, to which his conscience gave the lie, misled 
 her, and she forgave him ; for what the heart wishes, it is al- 
 ways ready and willing to believe. 
 
 Besides, she felt so lonely; she needed so much to have with 
 her a man whom she could influence : who became, as it were, 
 the instrument of her dreams in regard to the future, and with 
 whom she could dream, hope, and wish. So she was glad that 
 he had returned to her. 
 
 His position as Secretary of the Constitutional Club, however, 
 did not permit him to stay away from Paris a long time ; he 
 had entered upon his political career there, had become a pop- 
 ular orator, and could not now, by a prolonged absence from 
 the capital, risk all he had gained thus far. So he proposed
 
 350 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 to her to return with him to Paris. She could easily recover 
 her position in society ; all she would have to do for this pur- 
 pose would be to bring about a reconciliation withM. de Stael, 
 and the wife of the Swedish Embassador would stand again in 
 the midst of the best society. 
 
 It was generally known in, Paris that M. de Stael was pressed 
 by his creditors, and frequently very hard run for money. 
 Formerly, he had been at liberty to refer his creditors to his 
 wealthy father-in-law, and got rid of the importunate duns 
 by telling them. that M. Necker would pay them ; but since he 
 had separated from his wife, he was no longer allowed to do so. 
 No one would trust him any more, and the consequence was 
 that he saw the splendor and comfort of his household pass 
 away, and had to do without his wonted luxuries. Nothing 
 could be more disagreeable to him, and it was more than prob- 
 able that he would gladly grasp the hand offered him for re- 
 conciliation. Why, then, should Madame de Stael not offer it 
 to him, when such a reconciliation would be so advantageous 
 to her, and enable her to return to Paris, where she longed to 
 live ? Why should she not pay the insignificant price of a first 
 word for s5 great an advantage ? Why not recover so cheaply 
 the prominent position which she had formerly occupied in 
 Parisian society? 
 
 Benjamin Constant was justified under the circumstances in 
 supposing that conciliatory steps on the part of Madame de 
 Stael, how insignificant soever they might be, would be most 
 joyously met by her husband. If Madame de Stael returned 
 to Paris in order to resume her place as Embassadress of Swe- 
 den, the First Consul was obliged to receive her and treat her 
 politely ; and no one would thenceforth have any reason to shun 
 her house; no one would dare to offend the Embassador of a 
 foreign power by slighting her.
 
 PARIS IN THE YEAR 1800. 351 
 
 He wrote her a long letter after his return to Paris, and laid 
 all these arguments before her. His letter closed as follows : 
 " The laws of society are stronger than the human will. The 
 pride of independence bows in the long run to stern necessity 
 and to circumstances. It is for us to determine to follow only 
 what our hearts long for ; sooner or later we must, nevertheless, 
 comply with the requirements of our reason. I can no longer 
 allow you to occupy toward the world a position which morti- 
 fies me in your soul, and which is, moreover, a silent reproach 
 against me. You owe it to me, you owe it to yourself to put an 
 end to this struggle." 
 
 After reading these lines, she threw them angrily on the floor. 
 She thought it was evident that he did not wish to share the 
 humiliations of her position. 
 
 " I shall put an end to this struggle, but in my own way," she 
 said. " Never shall I submit to the humiliation of begging of 
 M. de Stael a position which I once threw unhesitatingly at his 
 feet. Never shall I do so ! Never ! I must by my own efforts 
 recover the place of which a word from the First Consul de- 
 prived me. Paris once admired me ; it bowed before the sound 
 of my name. It shall be subjected again to the same charm. 
 I am too old to bow my head ; I am too old to adorn myself 
 with borrowed tinsel. I feel my worth too much to beg for 
 what I have a right to demand ! They shall admire my genius ; 
 they shall pay homage to me again ! I will achieve this tri- 
 umph or none ! If I do not succeed in doing so, I possess less 
 genius than I believe I do, and I deserve to disappear in the 
 multitude. I deserve to be overlooked." 
 
 After this soliloquy, she hastened to her writing-table and 
 worked with redoubled energy at the book by which she in- 
 tended to obtain this triumph. The winter drew to a close 
 before her work was completed.
 
 352 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 Early in the spring of 1800, she suddenly returned to Paris, 
 it was said in order to superintend the publication of her 
 book. She made no calls after her arrival. She remained at 
 home all the time, and anxiously looked forward to the day 
 when her work would be issued, and the public criticize it. 
 
 To Benjamin Constant she said not a word about her expec- 
 tations ; for he, too, was to be surprised by her success, like the 
 rest of her former friends. Whenever he upbraided her for dis- 
 regarding his advice, she smiled and shook her head mournfully^ 
 
 "Oh! how little do you know me, Constant!" she said to 
 him. " How little are you able to appreciate the difference be- 
 tween the conventional respect granted us for the sake of our 
 official position, and the distinction for which we are indebted 
 to our personal merit, our own fame and talents. I am sorry to 
 find that you believe the former would satisfy me." 
 
 A few days afterward, Talleyrand called on her. She asked 
 him, wonderiugly, what had led him to the house of a lady that 
 had incurred the displeasure of his master to such a degree as 
 to drive away all her friends ? Those swimming with the tide 
 should not show themselves at her house ; so she could not 
 but admire his courage." 
 
 " Extend your admiration also to the power which I serve, 
 and we shall live again on the most amicable footing," he said, 
 with a smile. 
 
 She looked at him in surprise. Had he perhaps come to her 
 only in order to suggest this prudent course to her? Had Na- 
 poleon sent him to her? She told him she would not bow to 
 that power, and he seemed dissatisfied. 
 
 On the following day, Joseph Bonaparte visited her. He 
 held in his hand a letter from his brother, which he handed to 
 her with an air of embarrassment, and begged her to read in 
 his presence. It was as folio w .
 
 PARIS IN THE TEAR 1800. 353 
 
 " March 19, 1800. 
 
 ' " M. de Stael, I have been told, lives in abject poverty, while 
 his wife enjoys all the comforts of affluence. If you should 
 continue to visit her while she lives in Paris, beg her to grant 
 that poor man a monthly allowance of one thousand or twelve 
 hundred francs. What a pass we have come to ! I am ready 
 to treat Madame de Stael as a man ; but in that case she should 
 bear in mind that a man possessed of a large fortune and a cele- 
 brated name is not at liberty to let his wife be in want, and 
 that the world will condemn him for so doing." * 
 
 A deep flush of anger crimsoned her cheeks as she glanced 
 over these lines. 
 
 " Your distinguished brother is very kind to take so much 
 interest in my private affairs," she said, returning the letter to 
 him with a sarcastic smile. "Pray inform him that the King 
 of Sweden pays to his Embassador, or, if he does not, should 
 pay to him, a sufficient sum for living decently, provided he 
 knows how to keep his expenses within reasonable bounds ; 
 and I am sure it is not my duty to pay out of my own means 
 for festivals in which I do not take part, and for love affairs 
 which are a disgrace to his advanced age. For the rest, I am 
 obliged to him for intending to treat me as a man ; as no one 
 can deny that, as a general thing, men surpass us in intellec- 
 tual endowments, it certainly flatters me to be placed on a foot- 
 ing of equality with them. That I have remained a woman 
 at heart shows my sensibility to malevolence and persecution, 
 and to every act of hostility which tells me how much need 
 my sex has of support and protection. But if my talents are 
 equal to those of a man, it must not be inferred that M. de 
 Stael's relations to me are those of a woman of a wife and 
 
 * Memoirs of Joseph Bonaparte.
 
 354 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 that he is dependent on me for his daily bread. Natural rela- 
 tions cannot be inverted in this manner, even though the all- 
 powerful First Consul of France tries to shake them." 
 
 " I regret my brother's irritation toward you," replied Jo- 
 seph, " the more so as it often deprives me of the pleasure of 
 seeing you. You know how highly I esteem you, and prize 
 my acquaintance with you. In order not to incur his dis- 
 pleasure, I have often to abstain from visiting you, lest he 
 should forbid me to call on you at all. You ought to be kind 
 and friendly enough to spare me this pain. You ought to 
 think of your friends, and bear in mind how much they suffer 
 in consequence of obstinacy." 
 
 " What can I do," she exclaimed, vehemently. " It is my 
 nature to be truthful." 
 
 " Pursue a more conciliatory course. Be cautious in speak- 
 ing of him. Make about him some flattering remark which 
 will be reported to him, and which will neutralize the effect of 
 your former unfavorable criticisms." 
 
 " Then I should have to do violence to my convictions, and 
 I cannot do that ; I should be untruthful." 
 
 " At all events keep silence." 
 
 " That will not satisfy him, inasmuch as he wants me to ad- 
 mire him, and I cannot do so. All honor to his military skill, 
 but as a law-giver and ruler of France he is distasteful to me." 
 
 " You do not know him. Get better acquainted with him." 
 
 "How can I do so when he shuns me, and purposely avoids 
 me wherever he can? " 
 
 " We shall manage to bring you in contact with him. For 
 the sake of your friends, embrace the opportunity to bring 
 about a reconciliation. You do not promote the interests of 
 France by expressing your dislike of my brother, and you in 
 jure yourself no less than you grieve your friends."
 
 PARIS IN THE YEAR 1800. 355 
 
 " Such a friend I cannot refuse anything," said Madame de 
 Stael, deeply moved, and gave him her hand. " I shall hence- 
 forth love you more than ever, since your heart has manifested 
 so much sympathy for me." 
 
 A few other acquaintances gave her similar advice. They 
 told her she would have no difficulty in ingratiating herself 
 with the First Consul, and the advantages arising from his fa- 
 vor were so great, that, in acting as she did, she must be per- 
 fectly blind to her own interests. She could not deny that 
 these arguments were excellent, and she would gladly have 
 pursued a prudent course, but she could not bring herself to 
 do so. 
 
 " I am no longer at an age when we form new views on such 
 subjects," she replied. " I have reached my four-and-thirtieth 
 year, and my experience adds as many years to my age. I am, 
 moreover, my father's daughter, Jest ma nature ainsi, to be 
 candid. I owe it to his fame, and to the honor of his name, 
 not to sacrifice my political opinions to my personal advantage. 
 No matter what I may do, I must remain true to my convic- 
 tions. To such sincerity of character even an enemy will pay 
 respect. They fear me only because they are unable to win 
 me." 
 
 Benjamin Constant had listened silently to this conversa- 
 tion. When he was at last alone with her, he said, in a tone of 
 vexation : 
 
 " It is unfortunate for women to meddle with politics. How 
 tranquil and agreeable a life you might lead ; how pleasantly 
 and merrily your days might pass in the bosom of your family, 
 but for this passion of yours for playing a political role! " 
 
 She made no reply, but sat motionless, opposite to him, wildly 
 gazing into vacancy. Constant hastened to her in dismay and 
 seized her hands. They were cold as ice. She seemed to be
 
 350 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 senseless. When he touched her, she awoke to conscious- 
 ness as if from a dream. She pushed him back and said in a 
 hollow voice : 
 
 " What do you want of me, M. de Rebecque ? You have 
 said to me all that can be said. We have henceforth no lon- 
 ger anything to do with each other. Go ! What do you want 
 here?" 
 
 She rose, for the purpose of leaving the room, but her feet 
 refused to carry her. She tottered. He hastened to her in 
 order to support her; but before he reached her, she sank 
 senseless at his feet. 
 
 Almost beside himself, he bent over her and called her by 
 the fondest names. She did not hear him. At last he rang 
 the bell, and when the footman came in, he ordered him to call 
 Madame de Stael's maid, and tell her to undress her mistress 
 and lay her on her bed. He tried once more to appeal with 
 his voice to her heart. A deprecating gesture silenced him, 
 and the large tears which now gushed from her long dark 
 lashes, showed him how unsuitable the moment was to an ex- 
 planation and reconciliation. He left her, in an agony of con- 
 flicting emotions, and hastened home, where he locked himself 
 in his room. 
 
 Madame de Stael kept her room for several days after this 
 scene. She did not eat, she did not speak, and was not at home 
 for anybody. Even Benjamin Constant was not admitted to 
 her. He wrote to her. His letters remained unanswered. 
 Goaded almost to madness by her silence, he finally determined 
 to force an entrance into her room. He succeeded in gaining 
 , access to her, and, throwing himself at her feet, covered her 
 bands with glowing kisses of repentance. She looked at him 
 sadly and reproachfully, and had not the heart to repel him. 
 When he commenced excusing himself, she closed his mouth,
 
 PARIS IN THE YEAH 1800. 357 
 
 and told him to be silent. " Say not a word reminding me of 
 the past," she said, gravely. " Since we are on such terms as 
 we are now, we had better speak of indifferent matters." 
 
 She handed him the Mercure de Fi'anee, then edited by 
 Fontanes. It contained an open letter addressed by Chateau- 
 briand to Madame de Stael, and in which he tried to refute 
 her opinions. 
 
 " The young man will make himself famous by this essay, 
 and by thus attacking my views," she said. " All Paris will 
 speak of him to-day. The religious tone which he assumes is 
 new to us ; the spirit of the times is tending in that direction. 
 He will be much applauded and find plenty of adherents. His 
 religious enthusiasm, moreover, springs from genuine con- 
 viction, and the truth never fails to interest us, even though it 
 does not harmonize with our own views. Pray call on him 
 and tell him that I wish to get acquainted with him. I am 
 much interested in him." 
 
 In this manner the interview, so painful to both of them, 
 passed without a real reconciliation. 
 
 A few days afterward, the booksellers advertised Madame de 
 Stael's new work on Literature. This book treated neither of 
 Napoleon, nor of his policy, but expatiated on the civilization 
 of the human mind, and pronounced belles-lettres its most beauti- 
 ful flower. This book, therefore, created an extraordinary 
 sensation.* The times had as yet brought forth few productive 
 talents ; it was the first truly great book since the Revolution, 
 and the author of this book was a woman. All the newspapers 
 commented on it, all authors hastened to criticize it; in all 
 circles nothing was spoken of but Madame de Stael and her 
 work, and the Parisians bestowed more encomiums and admi- 
 ration on the gifted lady than ever before. Carriage after 
 * Journal de Paris.
 
 358 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 carriage drove up to her door ; and all those who had been the 
 first to desert and deny her, were now again the first to return 
 to her. She witnessed this sudden zeal with a bitter smile. 
 She did not receive anybody. Her servants had been instructed 
 to inform all visitors that she would be at home for those who 
 wished to call on her next Monday evening. She was anxious 
 to find out how large the number of her friends would be by 
 that day. She wanted to celebrate her triumph with this 
 satisfaction, which was so painful to her heart. 
 
 Beautiful Madame .Recaniier alone was not included in this 
 order. She alone had been courageous enough to visit Mad- 
 ame de Stael at a time when all her other friends had deserted 
 her; and for this noble trait of kindheartedness Madame de 
 Stael rewarded her by the most ardent attachment and friend- 
 ship. She loved Madame Recamier, not because she was beauti- 
 ful, but because she was good. 
 
 Napoleon had meanwhile removed from the Luxembourg 
 to the Tuileries. His power became daily more absolute, and 
 he gradually matured his vast and daring plans. The world 
 was henceforth to occupy itself with him alone, and now the 
 press devoted its principal attention to a book on literature 
 and perfectibility of the human race, and to excite the minds 
 of the public by dwelling on a subject so foreign to his glory, 
 and, moreover, treated by a woman whom he wished to see 
 ignored and shunned by everybody. The growing popularity 
 of his gifted enemy irritated him more and more. He was un- 
 able to counteract it. His power and authority were insuffi- 
 cient for that purpose. He could not prohibit her book ; nor 
 could he compel her to leave Paris on that account. So he had 
 to allow the mad enthusiasm of the Parisians to go on without 
 let or hindrance. 
 
 Monday evening, when Madame de Stael had promised to re-
 
 PARIS IN THE YEAR 1800. 359 
 
 ceive her friends, had meanwhile come. The apartments of 
 her house were brightly illuminated ; the servants were in readi- 
 ness at the doors. Madame de Stael herself, attired in a light- 
 green satin dress with a long train, her short curly hair 
 adorned with a bandeau and plumes, her beautiful arms cov 
 ered with long gloves reaching up beyond the elbows, was 
 sitting at the door leading to the ante-room, and was listening 
 for the rolling of the first carriage. 
 
 Benjamin Constant stood before her. 
 
 " If we grow richer in experience only to have our confi- 
 dence in men diminished, the shortest life, at bottom, would 
 be the most desirable," he remarked. 
 
 " I am not of your opinion," said Madame de Stael ; " we 
 learn to be satisfied with what life offers us ; in other words, 
 we grow wise by experience. Having been so long deprived 
 of social life such as I like best, I arn overjoyed to see my old 
 friends around me to-night, and ask neither why they come, 
 nor why they leave me. We never learn to appreciate the full 
 value of anything until we are deprived of it. A conversation 
 in a Parisian salon is the highest enjoyment I know of. The 
 springs of my life are the winters which I have passed in 
 Paris. Je compte mes printemps par mes Jtivers. I feel to-night 
 as if I were awaking to new happiness." 
 
 Her room was soon crowded with visitors, among whom the 
 most eminent names of the capital were represented, and all 
 of whom paid homage to her genius. So she had attained her 
 object and recovered her celebrity and popularity. She 
 smiled triumphantly. 
 
 All salons of the capital were now open to her; she was in- 
 vited to all soirees ; wherever she made her appearance, all 
 eyes followed her, and everybody paid homage to her. She 
 fairly reveled in this triumph which she had taken so much
 
 360 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 trouble to achieve ; a heavy burden had been removed from 
 iier breast. 
 
 Time wore on. Summer was close at hand, and Parisian 
 society dispersed in order to enjoy rural life. Madame de 
 Stael, therefore, had likewise to leave this scene of her happi- 
 ness. She returned in the best of spirits to her father's villa 
 at Coppet, where she arrived at the very time when the French 
 army crossed the Alps, and detachments of soldiers disturbed 
 the peaceful valleys of Switzerland. 
 
 When she now, on fine summer evenings, stood on the bal- 
 cony of the villa, while the quiet landscape was reflected in 
 the transparent lake, the snow-clad summit of the mountains 
 looked down on her so grandly and gravely, and her children 
 played so merrily in the park, she was almost ashamed of the 
 fact that she sought her happiness in things which she knew 
 to be nugatory, and which, moreover, never afforded it to her. 
 But she vainly attempted to get rid of her inward restlessness 
 She was constantly haunted by a vague, nameless longing, an 
 incessant dissatisfaction which clung to her through life, and 
 allowed her to find repose only in death. 
 
 Saints and martyrs have pursued the same path in the hope 
 of finding in heaven full compensation for the imperfections 
 of their earthly existence. 
 
 She watched Bonaparte's victorious career with the liveliest 
 interest, hoping all the time that it would terminate in defeats 
 which would lead to his downfall, and restore liberty to her 
 beloved France. Vain hopes and wishes ! 
 
 Those fine summer days, meanwhile, passed away very rap- 
 idly ; and in November, 1800, when social life in Paris began to 
 revive, Madame de Stael, too, returned to the capital of France. 
 Peace had not yet been concluded, but Moreau's victories had 
 prepared the way for it. No one, however, saw as yet through
 
 PAULS IN THE YEAR 1800. 30 1 
 
 the ambitious schemes of the First Consul, and his adherents 
 still entertained the most patriotic hopes for the welfare of 
 their country. 
 
 One evening, -while engaged in an animated conversation 
 with a few friends, Madame de Stael heard a deafening report, 
 Avhich no one was able to account for. It was the explosion 
 of the infernal machine. 
 
 It was not until the following day that she heard of the plot 
 and its failure, and unfortunately she was imprudent enough 
 to express her regret at it. Her remarks were reported to the 
 First Consul, who never forgot them. 
 
 As her position in society now depended upon her literary 
 successes, Madame de Stael continued most zealously, turning 
 her genius to account. She was now working at her Delpldne. 
 But her social relations engrossed her attention so much, that 
 her work progressed rather slowly, and she counted, therefore, 
 upon the coming summer, and the leisure which she would 
 have at Coppet. 
 
 She passed the winter this time in the most agreeable man- 
 ner. It is true, the First Consul never visited her, nor did 
 Talleyrand show himself at her house ; but all distinguished 
 strangers who visited Paris, were presented to her, and espe- 
 cially the diplomatists of the foreign powers visited her very 
 frequently. She spent much of her time at Joseph Bonaparte's 
 beautiful villa, Morfontaine, and Lucien always invited her to 
 his brilliant festivals. 
 
 Napoleon alone treated her constantly with the same cold- 
 ness, despite the partiality of his brothers for the gifted lady. 
 
 One day she met him at the house of General Berthier. 
 She had been prepared for it, for her friends hoped that Mad- 
 ame de Stael and the First Consul might be reconciled, and 
 they had therefore taken pains to bring about this meeting. 
 16
 
 302 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 Vain endeavor! Madame de Stael refused to appear in deep 
 humility before him ; she wished to meet with admiration and 
 flattery at his hands, and he did not admire anybody. His re- 
 mark that he did not appreciate the genius of a woman, but 
 only the number of children whom she had given to the 
 country, wounded her to the quick. Henceforth friendly rela- 
 tions between her and such a man were out of the question.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 IN EXILE. 
 
 MADAME DE STAEL was well aware that the sword was hang- 
 ing over her head, and was held only by the silken thread 
 with which public opinion still reined the ruler of France. 
 Nevertheless, she disdained to avert the threatening danger 
 by pursuing a more prudent course than before. 
 
 She knew that Napoleon was informed of all that took place 
 at her house ; that, with Fouche's ears, he listened to every 
 conversation held in her room ; that, by the aid of his police- 
 minister, he read all her letters ; * that all she did, said, and 
 wrote was reported to him ; and yet she continued giving the 
 reins to her tongue. She was a woman, and availed herself 
 of the privilege of woman to speak her mind with impunity. 
 
 But Napoleon would not grant this privilege to the fair sex. 
 The great man was little enough to show to the world that he 
 was afraid of a woman. 
 
 In France, the salons, and the gifted ladies shining in them, 
 have always exercised considerable influence upon public 
 affairs. Napoleon was not ignoran t of this fact, Madame de 
 Stael held intercourse with the most eminent statesmen of 
 France ; she gathered around her all men of mind and genius ; 
 and Napoleon noticed that those who visited her house, always 
 left it with a less favorable opinion of him. He was unable 
 to prove in what way she exercised this unfavorable influence 
 * Mdmoires de Constant, valet de chambre de I'Empereur Napoleon.
 
 364 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 over her visitors ; otherwise he would have had no hesitation 
 in punishing her for it ; he only knew that such was the case, 
 and it was but natural for him to try to remove or destroy a 
 power so injurious to him. 
 
 A woman had thrown down the gauntlet to him, and he 
 took it up. 
 
 Owing to the peculiar political situation in France, it was 
 utterly impossible for Madame de Stael to take any part in the 
 management of public affairs ; for where the voice of one man 
 decides everything, none but those who are on intimate terms 
 with that man can have influence. So she had to play the 
 part of a mere looker-on; and all she could venture to attempt, 
 was to obtain permission for her exiled friends to return to 
 France. 
 
 Fouche deemed it prudent to avoid needless rigor, and, al- 
 though he surrounded Madame de Stael with spies, and se- 
 cretly opened her letters, he treated her with marked favor, 
 perhaps only to lull her suspicions. Many a poor exile, there- 
 fore, now, through her intercession, obtained leave to return to 
 his native country and she was overjoyed to be able to place 
 Narbonne, too, on the list of these privileged persons, and to 
 welcome him in Paris after so prolonged a separation. 
 
 It is true, she did not suspect at that time that he would one 
 day enter the service of her enemy, and assist him in his victo- 
 rious career to the best of his power. 
 
 In the autumn of 1801, she returned, as usual, to Paris, and 
 opened now, in the zenith of her celebrity as an authoress and 
 gifted woman, her salon once more to the brilliant world of (lie 
 capital. All eminent men gathered around her immediately ; 
 all distinguished foreigners were presented to her ; but, above 
 all, her house was frequented by those who were secretly hos- 
 tile to the First Consul, and envied him his marvelous sue-
 
 IN EXIT.E. 305 
 
 cesses, by which he had here and there crossed their ambitious 
 purposes. Among those who rallied around her for this rea- 
 son was also Bernadotte, the future King of Sweden, who 
 would have preferred the imperial throne of France. With 
 him she was, therefore, soon on terms of the most intimate 
 friendship ; for both of them were animated by secret dislike 
 of Napoleon. 
 
 M. de Chateaubriand had published his " Genius of Christi- 
 anity," and acquired great celebrity by it. Madame de Stael 
 rejoiced at his success. She was free from that contemptible 
 envy of those who are intent only on adding to their own 
 fame, and, for that reason, tolerate no other talents by their 
 side, but disparage them wherever they can. Many flowers 
 bloom in the garden of the Lord ; the rose need not, be afraid 
 of the pink, for both are flowers of peculiar beauty, and can 
 not be compared with one another. Thus she looked also 
 upon other persons endowed with poetical talents. 
 
 Although Chateaubriand's principles were widely different 
 from her own, she highly appreciated his works, and often told 
 him how warmly she admired them. " Mere echoes weary 
 me," she would reply to those who told her that a new book 
 was not written in her spirit. She liked and praised all works 
 which showed that their authors were gifted men. She pos- 
 sessed the enviable faculty of appreciating the peculiarities of 
 all talented authors, and it never occurred to her to mark out 
 for it a path which was repugnant to it. 
 
 She had to do without Benjamin Constant this winter. As 
 her friend, he spoke and wrote in consonance with her views, 
 and thereby incurred Napoleon's displeasure ; the consequence 
 was that he lost his place as Secretary of the Constitutional 
 Club. 
 
 Unjust as he always was, he hastened in the first ebullition
 
 366 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 of bis anger to Madame de Stael, whom lie charged with hav- 
 ing caused his misfortune, and informed her that he would im- 
 mediately set out for Germany and try to enter a more prosper- 
 ous career. 
 
 " Should I have, perhaps, persuaded you to conceal your sen- 
 timents, because self-interest commanded you to pursue that 
 cowardly course ? " she said to him, gravely. 
 
 This answer caused him to blush. But Paris had become 
 distasteful to him for the time being, and so he departed. 
 
 Madame de Stael did not detain him. She was already ac- 
 customed to his running away in his fits of anger, and expected 
 that, as usual, he would return immediately. 
 
 She did not believe that he would stay away from her a long 
 time, for she knew full well how little he could do without her. 
 His vacillating character had to be guided by as strong a mind 
 as hers, in order to avoid those weaknesses by which characters 
 so constituted so often forfeit the confidence and esteem of their 
 fellow-men. 
 
 Madame de Stael wrote often to him. Amidst the brilliant 
 social life of the capital, she did not forget her absent friend. 
 It is true she was ignorant of the bonds which detained him 
 in Germany, and he did not deserve the pity which she felt for 
 him. 
 
 Early in the spring she intended to hasten to her father and 
 gladden his heart by telling him how successful and happy she 
 had been. Suddenly, however, her physician informed her 
 that M. de Stael had had a stroke of apoplexy, and was at his 
 house, deserted by everybody, and without a woman to nurse 
 him in his helplessness. 
 
 " Oh, my God ! my God ! " she exclaimed, compassionately, 
 and hastened to him. 
 
 Ho was suffering ; that was enough for her to forgive what
 
 IN EXILE. 307 
 
 had separated them. He was sick and helpless ; how could 
 she then still bear in mind how he had wronged her? 
 
 She found him in a pitiful condition. A partial paralysis of 
 his limbs rendered him helpless and entirely dependent on his 
 attendants, while a repetition of the fit threatened to put a 
 speedy end to his life, 
 
 She consulted with the doctor as to the course that should 
 be pursued in regard to him ; she said that no sacrifice would 
 be too great, no trouble too arduous for her, provided she could 
 give him relief. 
 
 The baths of Aix, in Savoy, were to be tried ; the hot springs 
 might perhaps cure him of the palsy. 
 
 She immediately caused a comfortable traveling coach to be 
 fitted up for the patient, furnished it with every possible con- 
 venience, so that he could be most as in a bed, and bid farewell 
 to her dear Paris in order to journey, by short stages, at the 
 side of the palsied sufferer, toward their mournful destination. 
 
 M. de Stael was deeply moved by her kindness and magnan- 
 imity, and expressed his gratitude by glances and words as far 
 as his condition permitted him to do so. He felt inwardly 
 with profound remorse that he had not deserved such generous 
 treatment at her hands, inasmuch as he had never taken pains 
 to win her affections, and to be to her a tender and loving 
 friend. So his heart smote him, although she, in her kindness, 
 never thought of making him ashamed of his conduct toward 
 her. 
 
 They traveled very slowly, for long stages exhausted the 
 patient's strength. When they reached the small frontier town 
 of Poligny, he had another fit, and died. 
 
 Madame de Stael stood in profound emotion at the coffin of 
 the unfortunate man whom she had called husband. She had 
 been unable to save him, unable to preserve his life.
 
 368 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 She now went to Coppet, and arrived quite unexpectedly at 
 her father's house, with the remains of his son-in-law, who was 
 buried there. Madame de Stael could not mourn for her hus- 
 band ; and yet his death made her very grave for a time. Whfle 
 she had scarcely aroused herself to a full sense of her new lib- 
 erty, Benjamin Constant suddenly entered her room. He stood 
 still before her hi surprise on seeing that she was in mourning. 
 
 " I am a widow," she said in response to his inquiring glance, 
 and was herself astonished at the sound of this word as applied 
 to her, for her relations with M. de Stael had been such as 
 almost not to justify her in calling herself his widow. 
 
 Benjamin looked at her with an embarrassed air and blushed. 
 The last barrier had now fallen between them. He dropped his 
 eyes, lest she should read in his soul what he took good care to 
 conceal from her. She noticed his confusion. Her eyes rested 
 on him mournfully for a moment ; she then began to talk of 
 indifferent matters. She still took as much interest in political 
 affairs as ever before. In a letter to Joseph Bonaparte, she 
 wrote on this subject as follows: 
 
 " COPPET, October 9, 1802. 
 
 " The peace with England is the joy of the world ; I am glad 
 that it was you who concluded it, and that you have every year 
 fresh opportunities to win the love and esteem of the whole 
 nation. You have conducted the most important negotiations 
 in the annals of France. Universal applause and gratitude 
 await you ; the terms will be excellent ; if they were less sat- 
 isfactory, this peace would exercise such a salutary influence 
 upon the domestic prosperity of France that you would have 
 a thousand opportunities to display your tact and sagacity, in- 
 asmuch as so many commercial interests are connected with 
 this peace, that your achievement will create a much greater 
 sensation than the conclusion of the peace of Luneville.
 
 IN EXILE. 369 
 
 " Pardon me for occupying myself on so important an occa- 
 sion with your personal welfare ; I gradually accustom myself 
 to measuring the most momentous events only with reference 
 to you, and it is agreeable to concentrate my mind in my love 
 for you. I think, already, with pleasure of all that we shall 
 talk about you next winter. 
 
 " The First Consul must be very happy ; you serve him most 
 efficiently, and your great kindness enlists all hearts in your 
 successes. 
 
 " Adieu ! Go forward to the greatest and most brilliant 
 event of your life. Enjoy the friendship of her whose wishes 
 
 may indemnify you (illegible) 1 hope you will earn 
 
 glory enough, and always remain my friend ; if you have glory, 
 and I your friendship, the advantage is still on my side. 
 
 " STAEL." 
 
 " P. S. Be kind enough to convey my respects to Madame 
 Julie. I wish her joy, and I am glad that she bears the name 
 of the Peace-maker, as everybody calls you." 
 
 She now resumed her literar\ r labors, and occupied herself 
 particularly with the last revision of her Delphine, which was 
 to be published in the course of the winter. She did not ven- 
 ture to return to Paris in autumn and superintend the publica- 
 tion of the work; for she had been informed that the First 
 Consul had said it would be good for her not to return to the 
 capital, and such a remark from his lips was sufficiently indica- 
 tive of the course he intended to pursue toward her. She stood 
 mournfully on the balcony of the chateau, and gazed over 
 toward France, where there reigned now such an active and stir- 
 ring life, in which she longed to participate. Should she risk it? 
 should shetgo to Paris despite the hint which she had received, 
 and expose herself to banishment? Should she pass the long, 
 16*
 
 long winter all alone at Coppet, where she enjoyed herself so 
 little ? 
 
 The Prefect of Geneva had not yet been ordered to refuse 
 her a passport, so the road to the capital was open to her ; 
 only she lacked the courage to set foot on it. Finally she re- 
 solved to remain at Coppet until her Delphine had been pub- 
 lished. The reception of this book was to show her the feel- 
 ings of the Parisians toward her before she ventured to make 
 her appearance at the capital. 
 
 Her days dragged through in anxious suspense. Necker 
 himself suffered greatly in consequence of her constant agita- 
 tion. He loved his daughter so dearly that he grieved deeply 
 to see her deprived of something which gladdened her, and he 
 laid all sorts of plans in order to induce Napoleon to desist 
 from his rigorous measures toward his child. Aged as he was, 
 and arduous as a journey would have been for him, he was 
 ready to go to Paris and intercede personally with the First 
 Consul in her behalf. 
 
 Autumn was drawing to a close, and the day came when 
 Delpliine was published. As soon as the book had appeared, 
 it created a great sensation ; all salons conversed about it 
 alone, all coffee-houses resounded with criticisms on it, all 
 newspapers published long articles on it. With trembling 
 haste Madame de Stael opened the first Paris paper which was 
 sent to her. It was the Mercure de France, edited by Laharpe, 
 which fell into her hands. But alas ! instead of criticizing the 
 book, the editor had written about the personal appearance of 
 the authoress. She glanced in dismay over the lines. He said 
 that she was utterly destitute of enthusiasm^ and the article 
 closed as follows : " Eegardez la ! EUe est grosse, grasse et forte ; 
 sa figure est eriluminee de trop de sante." What had her figure to 
 do with her book ? How could they allude to her appearance ?
 
 IN EXILE. 371 
 
 " Oh, how mean ! how despicable ! " cried Madame de Stael, 
 beside herself with indignation ; and her loud lamentations 
 drew the other inmates of the chateau into her room. Vainly 
 did Necker try to comfort her, vainly did Benjamin Constant 
 assure her that such malicious criticisms of a book would not 
 make a lasting impression on anybody, nor detract from the 
 value of the work in the eyes of any sensible person. No con- 
 solations were able to soothe the poor lady. These very re- 
 marks on her personal appearance, her character, and even her 
 private affairs, mortified her deeper, perhaps, than if the book 
 had simply been pronounced bad and unreadable. They 
 wounded her in her heart of hearts, and she felt as if the very 
 stones could not but look at her, pity her, and defend her. 
 
 A great many critics, however, censured the book, too. They 
 charged her with having reviled religion in her book, recom- 
 mended dueling, and advocated divorce, and they condemned the 
 work as immoral. Only a few voices were raised in her defense, 
 and they were drowned by the large majority of unfavorable 
 criticisms. Lalaude fearlessly called Delphine " Le beau roman 
 de Madame de Stael f and Sueur devoted to it an article in which 
 he bestowed the most flattering encomiums on it. But the 
 book was prohibited even at Leipzig, and the Elector of Saxony 
 threatened those who were in possession of a single copy of it 
 with a fine of one hundred dollars. That was too much. She 
 h^d not expected that her book would meet with such a 
 reception. 
 
 Necker had read his daughter's work before she had pub- 
 lished it, and he had approved of it. The more painful were 
 these attacks to him now. So he was inclined to ascribe the 
 cause of this renewed hostility of the First Consul to himself, 
 and not to his daughter's novel. He had sung his last strains, 
 as Madame de Stael called his book, which he had entitled
 
 372 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 Dernieres vues de politique et de finances. Napoleon was exceed- 
 ingly displeased with the spirit of this work, and said that 
 Madame de Stael had misrepresented the present condition of 
 France to her father. In a paroxysm of rage he dictated to 
 Consul Lebrun a letter to Necker, in which he informed him 
 in unmeasured terms of his indignation, and which wound up 
 with the announcement that Madame de Stael would no longer 
 be permitted to reside in Paris. So she had been prepared for 
 her exile even previous to the appearance of her Delphine. 
 Nevertheless, the certainty of what she had feared now made 
 the most painful impressions on her. Not to live in Paris was 
 in her case equivalent to renouncing all enjoyments of exist- 
 ence ; people lived there, and merely vegetated elsewhere. 
 
 So she resolved to pass the winter at Geneva. But what 
 could Geneva offer to her ? She caused her guests to perform 
 parlor theatricals and represent charades ; she gathered around 
 her the foreign residents, among whom were a great many 
 Englishmen ; she recited and read to them, and created a great 
 sensation ; but she herself derived from this social intercourse 
 no other enjoyment than that of gratified vanity. A conversa- 
 tion, such as she liked, could be held only at the capital of 
 France, and this conversation was the highest and only enjoy- 
 ment of her life. 
 
 In the following autumn she was lead to believe that Napo- 
 leon had forgotten her. Her friends wrote her from Paris 
 that the contemplated expedition to England engrossed all his 
 thoughts, and that he hardly thought of her any more. So she 
 resolved to profit by this opportunity to approach the capital. 
 
 She took up her residence at Maffliers, a villa situated within 
 ten leagues of Paris. Here she intended to pass the winter, re- 
 ceive her friends, and visit every now and then a theater or 
 art-gallery at the capital.
 
 EXILE. 
 
 378 
 
 She had spent two months undisturbedly at this villa, and 
 began to look about with less timidity, and rejoice at the suc- 
 cess of her plan, when the First Consul was informed that 
 the road to Maffliers was covered with carriages and men 
 hastening to Madame de Stael. This information, no doubt, 
 came from Madame de Genlis, who was indebted for her return 
 to Paris and a pension to a correspondence with Napoleon, 
 which informed him of a great many things which he would 
 not have learned otherwise. To tolerate a rival whose literary 
 celebrity far eclipsed her own, could not be expected of a vain 
 woman, and so she availed herself of this opportunity to remove 
 the envied Madame de Stael from the capital. 
 
 Madame de Stael was informed by one of her friends that a 
 gensd'arme would bring her the order to leave France. At 
 first she refused to believe in the truth of this communication, 
 inasmuch as it seemed to her incredible that a lady should be 
 subjected to such arbitrary treatment. She believed that Na- 
 poleon would hardly have the courage to pursue such a course 
 toward a lady of her rank, nay, that he would be unwilling to 
 confess how much he was afraid of her. 
 
 However, she was not long in finding out that she was mis- 
 taken. 
 
 She ordered her carriage and fled to Madame de la Tour, to 
 whom Regnault de Saint Jean d'Angely had recommended 
 her. She was hardly acquainted with this lady. She found 
 her at her villa, surrounded by a number of persons who were 
 almost entire strangers to her, and to whom she would not be- 
 tray the fear gnawing at her heart. At every unwonted noise 
 she would give a start ; her color changed from minute to min- 
 ute; she scarcely listened to what was said, and her answers 
 indicated that she had not followed the course of the conversa- 
 tion. What if the gensd'arme, with whose arrival she had been
 
 374 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 threatened, should follow her thither? What if he should ar 
 rest her in the presence of all these guests ? 
 
 Glad to escape this almost intolerable constraint, she retired 
 to her room. But here she did not find any rest either. She 
 opened the window and listened if the sound of a horse should 
 be audible in the stillness of the night ; and she looked from 
 minute to minute for the arrival of the tyrant's messenger. She 
 wrote to Joseph Bonaparte and depicted to him the whole 
 extent of her humiliating situation. She told him that she 
 had only sought an asylum at a place ten leagues from Paris, 
 and that she had not been desirous of returning to the capital. 
 She implored him to intercede for her, and, above all, to pre- 
 vent the dread word " exile " from being pronounced against 
 her ; for those who had once been exiled always had the ut- 
 most difficulty in obtaining permission to return to Paris. 
 
 Her days dragged through in anxious suspense. Madame 
 Recamier, who had returned from a trip to England, invited 
 her to come to her house at Saint Brice. She accepted her in- 
 vitation gratefully, without anticipating how grievously she 
 would injure her beautiful friend by so doing. The most 
 agreeable company was assembled there, and she yielded once 
 more to the charm of the enchanting conversation, of which 
 she was so very fond. She met Talma there. He read to her 
 a scene from Othello. Madame de Stael told him that all he 
 had to do, to be the Moor of Venice, was to pass his hand 
 through his hair and knit his brow. Madame Recamier sung 
 with her enchanting voice, and Madame de Stael recited scenes 
 from Romeo and Juliet, or represented Hagar in the desert, 
 with Madame Recamier, who performed the part of the angel 
 on such occasions. The effect which she produced by such 
 tableaux-vivants was indescribable. She represented the ex- 
 pression of grief with such striking vividness that all the. spec-
 
 IN EXILE. 375 
 
 tators were irresistibly carried away by her performance. Her 
 long black hair hung disheveled upon her shoulders and back. 
 Her dark eyes beamed with heavenly radiance as they assumed 
 the expression of despairing maternal love. All eyes rested, 
 spell-bound, upon her face, and attentively followed her slightest 
 movements. Although she was not good-looking, she seemed 
 surpassingly beautiful at such moments, and no one had any 
 difficulty in understanding how, destitute as she was of per- 
 sonal charms, she had been abk to inspire men with the most 
 passionate love. 
 
 She passed several days in this manner, as if in a sweet 
 dream, so suddenly and unexpectedly had those longed-for 
 enjoyments and charming intercourse with her friends been 
 restored to her. As no one alluded to her exile, she, too, com- 
 menced forgetting the dread word, and tried to persuade herself 
 that Napoleon no longer intended to punish her. 
 
 Almost perfectly reassured, and satisfied that he had only 
 threatened her in order to frighten her, she finally returned to 
 her villa. 
 
 Several friends visited her there, and she merrily sat down to 
 dinner with them. The garden-hall opened upon the highway, 
 and allowed her to see the entrance gate. It was a bright Sep- 
 tember day ; heaven and earth were radiant under the rays of 
 the autumnal sun, and Madame de Stael's face likewise beamed 
 with satisfaction at her safety from arbitrary treatment. She 
 merrily surveyed the small circle of her friends, and enjoyed 
 their pleasant conversation. 
 
 At this moment the clock struck four. 
 
 A man dressed in a suit of gray clothes appeared at the gate 
 and demanded admittance. He was on horseback. 
 
 No sooner'had Madame de Stael cast a glance upon him, than 
 she knew her fate. She started up in dismay.
 
 376 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 He demanded an interview with her. She left her guests and 
 went to him in the garden. The flowers were so fragrant, the 
 sun shone so brightly, she stood still and yielded for a mo- 
 ment to a meditation on the difference between the effects pro- 
 duced on the mind by nature, and those which society makes 
 upon us. The man in gray now approached her, and said he 
 was the captain of the gensd'armes of Versailles ; in order not 
 to frighten her, he had not put on his uniform. He then 
 showed her a letter, signed by Bonaparte, ordering him to 
 remove her forty leagues from Paris ; he was to start with her 
 in the course of twenty-four hours, but to treat her with the 
 utmost respect. 
 
 Madame de Stael trembled, and was scarcely able to compose 
 herself. 
 
 " Such an order is issued against criminals, but not against 
 a lady of my rank, not against a lady who has to give up 
 housekeeping and to take her children along with her. Ac- 
 company me for three days to Paris, sir, that I may make my 
 preparations." He bowed and said that he was willing to 
 comply with her request. 
 
 She now returned to her guests, apologized for her depar- 
 ture, ordered her carriage, and entered it with the officer and 
 with her children. Her friends looked after her regretfully. 
 When would they meet her again ? 
 
 She caused her carriage to stop at Madame Recamier's villa, 
 and alighted in order to see her friend. She met here General 
 Junot, who promised her to bring his whole influence to bear 
 in her behalf upon the First Consul. Vain promise! 
 
 Madame de Stael had rented a new house in Paris in the 
 nope of passing the winter there ; she now entered it for the 
 first time, accompanied by the gend'arme. She hastened sadly 
 tlirongh the apartments in which she had hoped to spend many
 
 IN EXILE. 377 
 
 merry hours with her friends. Every morning the gencl'arme 
 made his appearance here, and told her that she must set out ; 
 and every day she met him with the urgent request to allow 
 her to remain another day at her house. She wished to see 
 her friends once more ; she wished to be merry with them once 
 again in these apartments, before bidding farewell to Paris 
 and to happiness. 
 
 Joseph Bonaparte tried to persuade his brother once more oil 
 the day previous to her departure to desist from a measure 
 which seemed unworthy of his greatness, directed as it was 
 against a woman; but his efforts proved unsuccessful. His 
 amiable young wife hastened to Madame de Stael, and requested 
 her to spend a few days with them at Morfontaine, an invita- 
 tion which she accepted with heartfelt gratitude under the ex- 
 isting circumstances. Her oldest son, Augustus, accompanied 
 her thither. But however gratefully she acknowledged the 
 kindness of Joseph Bonaparte, she could not enjoy herself in a 
 family where she had to conceal the bitter feelings gnawing at 
 her heart; so she left, three days afterward, this hospitable 
 house, where she had formerly passed so many pleasant hours. 
 
 But whither was she now to wend her way ? Was she to 
 return to Geneva, where the monotony of social life seemed in- 
 tolerable to her, and where everybody would tacitly say to her, 
 " You have been sent back to us ? " Her pride revolted at this 
 humiliation. She had always said to the Swiss, that France 
 was her native country, and that she was utterly averse to 
 being considered a daughter of Switzerland. France had now 
 disowned her ; what if Switzerland should do likewise ? 
 
 Hence she resolved to go to Germany. In Germany her 
 name was well known ; in Germany her father was loved and 
 esteemed, and the ancient dynasties would be certain to re- 
 ceive her in a flattering manner. She requested Joseph to in-
 
 378 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 quire if she might go to Prussia. He hastened to St. Cloud, 
 while she awaited his answer at a small tavern two hours 
 from Paris. The answer was in the affirmative. Joseph sent 
 her letters of introduction to distinguished persons in Berlin, 
 and wished her, in the most courteous manner, a happy journey 
 to Germany. 
 
 This was the last word. She was obliged to go. 
 
 Benjamin Constant accompanied her on her journey. She 
 sadly leaned back her head in a corner of the carriage, and in- 
 wardly regretted every step of the horses which removed her 
 from Paris. Never, perhaps, did a traveler set out on a jour- 
 ney in gloomier spirits. It was not until they reached Chalons, 
 that Constant par son etonnante conversation * succeeded in 
 arousing her from her apathy. At Metz she was slightly ex- 
 hilarated by the presence of a M. Villers. Nevertheless, she 
 was unable to forget Paris, and to accustom herself to the idea 
 that she should not live there any more. 
 
 * Her own words.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THREE MONTHS AT "WEIMAR. 
 
 FRANKFORT, Dec. 3, 1803. 
 " Madame de Stael to M. de CMteaubriand 
 
 " Oh, mon Dieu, my dear Francis, how your letter saddened 
 my heart ! Already yesterday the newspapers had conveyed 
 the dreadful tidings to me, and your heart-rending account 
 then stamped it in bloody letters upon my memory. Can you 
 speak to me of different opinions about religion and the 
 priests ? Are there two opinions when there is but one feel- 
 ing ? I have read your letter with scalding tears. My dear 
 Francis, call to mind the time when your friendship for me 
 had reached its height ; do not forget the moments when my 
 whole heart belonged to you, and tell yourself then that the 
 same feelings still reign at the bottom of my heart, only more 
 so than ever before. I loved, I admired the character of Mad- 
 ame de Beaumont; I never knew a more magnanimous, grate- 
 ful, and affectionate one. Ever since I entered the world, I 
 have been on intimate terms with her ; and even amidst many 
 disagreeable circumstances, my attachment to her has never 
 been shaken. Mon cher Francis, grant me a place in your life. 
 I admire and love you ; I loved her for whom you are mourn- 
 ing. I am a faithful friend. I shall be a sister to you. I shall 
 honor your sentiments more than ever. Mathieu, who shares 
 them, is as kind to me as an angel, whenever a calamity befalls 
 me. Give me again opportunities to spare you ; let me be 
 useful to you or afford you pleasure. Have you heard that I
 
 380 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 Lave been exiled to a place forty leagues from Paris? I shall 
 profit by this decree to make a trip to Germany ; but next 
 spring, if I can obtain permission, I shall return to Paris, or 
 at all events take up my abode in its vicinity, or go to Geneva. 
 Let us then meet somewhere. Do you not feel that my mind 
 and soul comprehend and appreciate yours ? Do you not feel 
 that we are similar to each other, despite our dissimilarities ? 
 M. von Humboldt wrote to me a few days since, and alluded to 
 your works in terms of admiration, which, coming as they did 
 from a man of his merit and views, could not but be flattering 
 to you. But am I at liberty to speak to you, at this moment, of 
 your successes ? She, you know, loved these successes, and 
 attached the utmost importance to them. . Continue adding to 
 the celebrity of him who was so dear to her. Adieu, my 
 dear Francis. I shall write to you from Weimar, in Saxony 
 Address your replies to me thither, care of M. Desport, Banker. 
 What heart-rending words do I find in your letter! And 
 your determination to keep poor St. Germain ! You will 
 one day take him to my house. 
 " Once more, an affectionate, a mournful farewell. 
 
 " K DE STAEL." 
 
 Contrary to expectation, Madame de Stael was detained for 
 some time at Frankfort by the sickness of her youngest child, 
 a little girl of five. 
 
 The Journal de Paris stated that she had left Paris in order 
 to issue in Berlin a new edition of her DelpJiine, with a pre- 
 face justifying the purpose and contents of the book. Ben- 
 jamin Constant was mentioned as her companion, and as au- 
 thor of several pamphlets and of a translation of Kant; " dnt 
 la doctrine" said the editor, " est <ui dewis de li porlcv de Vexprit 
 hiimai/)"
 
 THREE MONTHS AT WEIMAB. 381 
 
 At this very juncture, Frederick Schlegel lectured every 
 Sunday morning in Paris, and sought to familiarize the French 
 public with the spirit of German science ; to judge from the 
 above-mentioned article, there remained to him a vast field for 
 his lectures on German literature and philosophy. 
 
 Madame de Stael, however, received also from Paris other 
 newspapers alluding to her journey in less delicate terms, and 
 closing with calumnies which caused her heart to tremble. 
 She had to drink both honey and wormwood from the cup of 
 life ; of both of them a measure full to overflowing was pre- 
 sented to her lips. 
 
 In Germany, the name of Madame de Stael had long been 
 verv favorably known, and her writings had been read with 
 great admiration. Already, in the year 1795, Sophie la Roche 
 had written to Wieland : 
 
 " Tell me, would you like to read Les Reflexions 'sur la Pate, 
 which Madame de Stael, Necker's daughter, wrote in her 
 leisure hours, and dedicated to Pitt, and to the French nation ? 
 And shall I send you Zutma, the fragment of a very interesting 
 work by this same gifted woman? Intent as she was on 
 writing on the influence of the passions over our happiness, 
 she of course tried first to depict that of loves, and Zulrna ap- 
 peared. I confess I am glad to own the works of father, 
 mother, and daughter, and to be personally acquainted with 
 all three of them." 
 
 The inhabitants of Weimar had already been prepared for 
 her arrival, and awaited her impatiently, while so sad a cause 
 detained her at Frankfort. It was the first German city where 
 she stayed for some time, and the grave apprehensions with 
 which the sickness of her little daughter, Albert! ue, filled her, 
 did not render more agreeable the impression which the still- 
 ness of the place, the sound of the foreign language, and her
 
 382 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 
 longing for Paris and for her friends, made upon her. Few 
 
 physicians spoke French at that time, and owing to this fact 
 she had considerable difficulty in conversing with her doctor, 
 which was extremely painful to her maternal heart. 
 
 She received daily letters from Coppet, with advice and con- 
 solation, and medical instructions from her doctor in Geneva. 
 Necker always accompanied his daughter in thought, and 
 shared both her joys and sorrows. 
 
 She wrote to him from Frankfort : 
 
 " But for prayer, what would become of a mother who knows 
 that her child's life is endangered ? This condition would lead 
 to the discovery of religion, even though it had been unknown 
 up to that time." 
 
 She did not breathe more freely until the physician declared 
 that her little daughter was out of danger. 
 
 The days had, meanwhile, grown shorter a cold shroud 
 of snow covered the earth, and all the terrors of winter set in. 
 She had considerable difficulty in continuing her journey, and 
 was glad if every day brought her a few miles nearer to her 
 destination. 
 
 Benjamin Constant was no stranger to this soil. He had 
 formerly already passed through~these regions, although with 
 a lighter heart, and a destination holding out to him the most 
 brilliant prospects and hopes. Now he gazed with a gloomy 
 air upon these desolate fields, and seemed to be a prey to con- 
 stant despondency. There was something unsteady in his 
 gaze ; and a certain anxiety, which Madame de Stael perceived 
 full well, had seized him since they had reached Germany. 
 
 She fixed her radiant eyes on him inquiringly. He noticed 
 it, and tried to avert her thoughts from him by entering into 
 a conversation with her. Familiar as he was with what was 
 most interesting to her, he nearly always succeeded in drawing
 
 TIIKEE MONTHS AT WEIMAE. 333 
 
 her into a conversation when he wished to do so; and theu 
 e would speak so beautifully and charmingly that he had like- 
 wise to banish his thoughts from his mind, and hang upon her 
 
 lips. 
 
 Madame de Stael wished to be acquainted with the poets 
 
 Germany, and therefore she wended her way to Weimar 
 
 The muses had at that time fled to the banks of the Ilm and 
 
 shed over the small duchy a lustre which was to illuminate 
 
 ie whole world. Pilgrims flocked thither from all quarters 
 
 of the globe, in order to worship at its shrine. 
 
 On a dark evening she reached the small town, whose streets 
 were not lit up by any lantern save that of her own traveling 
 coach, and alighted at the not very comfortable hotel. Already 
 an hour after her arrival, the news that the celebrated lady had 
 arrived at length, spread from house to house ; and early in the 
 morning all asked each other how and where they would meet 
 her. 
 
 Madame de Stael had been urgently recommended to the 
 court of Weimar, and no sooner had she arrived than she was 
 invited to the ducal table, and received in the most flattering 
 and honorable manner. After dinner was over, the Duke in- 
 troduced Schiller to her. The celebrated lady fixed her eyes 
 searchingly on the face of the German poet, whom she met 
 with proud self-consciousness. Her heavy, corpulent form con- 
 trasted strangely with that of the pale, slender poet, with the 
 angular features, upon which the lofty aspirations of his mind 
 were stamped, while the singular figure now standing before 
 him evidently belonged to earth. 
 
 When his clear blue eyes met her ardent gaze, he dropped 
 them almost in terror before those dazzling rays 
 
 She now addressed him in her fine deep voice* in a language 
 which he did not speak fluently, and which he understood only
 
 384 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 through her excellent pronunciation, and the vivid expression 
 of her face. He listened to her attentively, while his high, 
 thoughtful forehead looked even more thoughtful than usual. 
 
 " Sit by me," she said, beckoning to him to seat himself at 
 her side ; " I have known you for a long time past ; we are old 
 acquaintances, and Jest ma nature ainsL, to treat all gifted men 
 as my friends. I have come to Germany in order to familiarize 
 myself with your philosophy. I should like to get acquainted 
 with your Kant and Fichte. Pray tell me all about them. 
 Which of them do you prefer ? Which of them do you con- 
 sider most profound ? " 
 
 Schiller had some difficulty in replying to her numerous 
 questions. Nevertheless, he was soon engaged hi an animated 
 conversation, and absorbed in philosophical discussions such 
 as these rooms had perhaps never heard before. The court 
 listened from afar in the utmost surprise to the singular con- 
 versation of the two illustrious personages. Both of them 
 grew more and more excited ; Madame de Stael raised her fine 
 voice louder and louder, and caused its sonorous tones to fall 
 charmingly on the ears of the listeners. Suddenly, however, 
 as if actuated by a quick impulse, she jumped up from her seat 
 and walked with her bold, firm step toward the Duke; all 
 looked at her hi astonishment, and awaited eagerly what she 
 was about to do. 
 
 " I have just learned that M. Goethe is at Jena," she said, 
 vividly ; " and when I requested M. Schiller to present him to 
 me, he replied he could not do so, inasmuch as he would not 
 return to Weimar, but would expect me to visit him there. Is 
 t this really in accordance with German etiquette, sire ? Is it 
 customary for ladies at your court to pay homage to gentlemen 
 in this manner ? If such is really the case, I must submit to 
 this strange custom."
 
 TTTR'EE MONTHS AT WEIMAR. 385 
 
 The Duke glanced in confusion at Schiller, in whose eyes he 
 read the confirmation of this charge, and replied after a mo- 
 ment's reflection, " Your wishes, Madame, will be respected by 
 all the members of my court ; it will be flattering to Goethe 
 that you desire to be acquainted with him, and I myself shall 
 inform him to-morrow of the happiness which awaits him." 
 
 Reassured by this reply, Madame de Stael allowed the con- 
 versation to turn to other topics, and thus closed a day so 
 memorable in the annals of Weimar. 
 
 On the following morning, Schiller caused himself to be an- 
 nounced to her in order to introduce to her Wieland, who 
 made a very agreeable impression on her. In the meantime, 
 the Duke sent a messenger to Goethe in order to induce him 
 to return to Weimar ; but what Goethe had before said to 
 Schiller, he repeated now in his reply to the Duke, only in more 
 respectful terms. " In order to enjoy the celebrated lady, he 
 must have a tete-a-tete with her, and would have, therefore, 
 rooms fitted up for her in Loder's house." * 
 
 The Duke 'did not venture to communicate this answer to 
 her, and preferred informing her that Goethe was sick, where- 
 upon Madame de Stael resolved to prolong her sojourn at 
 Weimar. 
 
 Although Weimar was not Paris, it offered many attractions 
 to her mind ; and there remained so many questions for her to 
 propound that she did not lack material for the most animated 
 discussions. 
 
 Schiller wrote to K8rner : " She is a most gifted and ac- 
 complished woman ; and if she were not so very interesting, I 
 should not pay so much attention to her. But you may im- 
 agine the striking contrast of this gifted creature, standing on 
 the summit of French culture, and thrown into our midst from 
 
 * Vide Schiller's Letters to Komer. 
 17
 
 386 MADAME DK STAEL. 
 
 an entirely different world, with our German peculiarities, and, 
 above all, with my own being. She diverts me almost entirely 
 from poesy, and I wonder that I am still able to write any- 
 thing. I see her very often, and, as I do not speak French very 
 fluently, I really have a hard time of it. But her wonderful 
 mind, her liberality, and her great susceptibility, entitle her to 
 our warmest esteem." 
 
 While Madame de Stael achieved these triumphs, Benjamin 
 Constant received a letter which embarrassed him beyond 
 measure. M'lle de Hardenberg proposed to him in it to visit 
 him at Weimar, in order to get acquainted with his generous 
 protectress. He had not told her that this protectress was and 
 had to remain ignorant of her existence, and hence he was at 
 a loss what to do in order to prevent her from coming to Wei- 
 mar. Now that he was in Germany, it was but natural for 
 him to join the lady of his heart ; but, on the other hand, he 
 could not find it in his heart to leave Madame de Stael at a 
 moment when, owing to her ignorance of the German lan- 
 guage, she had more need of him than ever befor.e. He sighed 
 deeply. His predicament was painfully embarrassing. 
 
 A thousand bonds attached him to the gifted lady ; she 
 treated him so kindly and generously, she shared with him her 
 position in society, and the honors which were bestowed upon 
 her; and, in return, he was always to deceive and cheat her! 
 This role oftentimes was exceedingly repugnant to his self- 
 love. 
 
 After passing several days in the most painful agitation, he 
 wrote to M'lle de Hardenberg that he could no longer restrair 
 his impatience to see her again, and that he was about to has- 
 ten to her. In this manner he prevented her from visiting 
 him ; but he was now to verify his words, and that was a some- 
 what difficult undertaking. Under what pretexts should he
 
 TIIIIKK MONTHS AT .WEIMAR. 387 
 
 enter upon this journey ? He mused a long time ou this prob- 
 lem. 
 
 As he had resumed his work on the religions of the nations 
 with redoubled zeal since politics was silent, he thought ho 
 might use this as a pretext I must go for a few days to Got- 
 tmgen," he said to Madame de Steel, " in order to examine sev- 
 eral works at the University Library." 
 She looked at him wonderingly. 
 
 " Could you not defer that until we reach Berlin ? " she asked 
 with an inquiring glance. 
 
 " If I could defer it, would I wish to leave you at this mo- 
 " he replied, in a tone of irritation. " Do I deserve this 
 istrust with which you watch all my ste ps ? Do I deserve 
 tins suspicion with which you always look upon my attach- 
 ment to you? Have so many years of an intimate acquain- 
 tance not yet sufficed to convince you of the lasting character 
 of my affection, which, no matter what may have happened 
 always leads me back to you, and causes me to forget all' 
 wrongs and injuries as soon as I see you again ? " 
 
 "I find that you bring on this scene "without any cause 
 whatever," replied Madame de Stael, proudly and gravely 
 'Confidence deserves confidence. I allow you a full insight 
 into my heart ; you know the motives of all my actions. Can 
 you wonder, Benjamin, if my friendship for you tries to give 
 me the right to penetrate likewise into the inmost recesses of 
 your soul ? " 
 
 "Certainly not," he replied, touched by the gentle tone of 
 her voice ; " certainly not, Germaine. But to desire confidence 
 entertain suspicion are two widely different things It 
 does not become a man to be called to account for every step 
 he makes, even by the woman whom he esteems highest It 
 mortifies and insults him if she insists on it "
 
 388 MAUAME DE STAEL. 
 
 " Well, then, go, Constant ; I shall not ask you why you 
 leave me at this juncture." 
 
 He kissed her hand gratefully, and left her, greatly relieved, 
 in order to engage a seat in the stage-coach. 
 
 He felt that he was wronging her. During the whole of 
 the evening his eyes rested on her mournfully. She had 
 scarcely been two weeks at Weimar, she was still a perfect 
 stranger to the place, and he who was so much indebted to 
 her, was capable of leaving her ! It seemed to him impossible 
 to part with her. Schiller and Wieland had arrived, the con- 
 versation had become exceedingly animated, and the brilliant 
 eloquence of his friend enchanted his ears. What if he should 
 never hear that voice again ? 
 
 Folding his arms on his breast, he leaned against the door, 
 and gazed sadly upon the group before him. The servant in- 
 formed him now that it was time for him to go to the post- 
 house. He drew his watch from his pocket, and found that 
 the appointed hour was at hand. He threw it angrily on the 
 floor and trampled it under foot* 
 
 " What is the matter ? " asked Wieland of him, in surprise. 
 
 "The watch is my enemy; otherwise, it would not have 
 shown me the minute calling me away from here." He em- 
 braced Madame de Stael as if in despair, and rushed from the 
 room. 
 
 " The air in Germany does not agree with him," said 
 Madame de Stael, while her eyes followed him wonder- 
 ingly. " He is too old for a period of storm and stress, and, it 
 seems to me, is playing a comedy with himself. As he is going 
 to spend his Christmas with some old manuscripts, he is very 
 likely to feel at parting how much he leaves here behind ; never- 
 theless, he so willed it, and he has now to keep his aim in view.'' 
 * Letters of M'me de Stein to her Son.
 
 THREE MONTHS AT WEIMAK. 389 
 
 This little scene was soon generally known in Weimar, and 
 gave rise to a great many rumors. Goethe heard of it, too, and 
 became daily more anxious to see the wonderful woman, who, 
 Schiller had written to him, was made of one piece, and en- 
 tirely free from strange, false, and incongruous traits. 
 
 He determined at length, toward the close of December, to go 
 for one day to Weimar. Madame de Stael was prepared for 
 his visit, and received him with more coldness than she used to 
 display ; for, despite his indisposition, she knew full well that 
 he might have visited her at a much earlier day. His tardi- 
 ness in coming to Weimar had offended her. 
 
 Goethe spoke French very fluently, and met her without the 
 slightest embarrassment. The reports of his friends having 
 familiarized him beforehand with hor appearance, he was not 
 surprised to find that she was not prepossessing. They were 
 soon engaged in an animated conversation, while she was roll- 
 ing a small green twig between her beautiful white fingers, a 
 habit from which she was no longer able to wean herself. She 
 could get along much better with him than with Schiller, whose 
 idealism which in her opinion could not but lead to mysticism 
 and superstition almost frightened her. She wanted to pene- 
 trate everything with her mind to explain, perceive, measure 
 everything; she would not admit anything mysterious and 
 inaccessible, and that which she could not illuminate with hei 
 torch, did not exist for her.* 
 
 Goethe was more favorably impressed with her from minute 
 to minute; and, at parting, he promised to return speedily to 
 Weimar, and to remain there until her departure, if she would 
 now accept his invitation and come for a few days to Jena, 
 where he wished to make her acquainted with a guest who 
 would surpass all she had hitherto seen in Germany, and give 
 * Goethe's Letters to Schiller.
 
 390 MADAME DK STAEL. 
 
 her a deeper insight into the mysterious realm of the human, 
 mind than the philosophy of Kant and Fichte could do. 
 
 " But who is it ? " she asked, in great surprise. " Whom do 
 you refer to ? You have no Cagliostro or St. Germain, for 
 aught I know 1 " 
 
 " No, but something better a real ghost ; something without 
 a body a genuine German apparition you shall see there 
 with your wondrously beautiful eyes." 
 
 " But where shall I find this nameless being? where does it 
 stay ? where does it walk? In this land of legends and fairy- 
 stories, I should like to see the places where your ghosts take 
 up their abode." 
 
 " For this reason, I have fitted up for you rooms in a house 
 where a little 'man, such as our poets have portrayed to you, 
 walks about every night, and will have the honor to appear 
 before you personally. Will you not be afraid of this guest ? " 
 
 "Not at all. I shall be exceedingly glad to form his ac- 
 quaintance, and shall now be certain to come." 
 
 " So you are willing to grant to a ghost what you refused to 
 me ? " he said, leaving her smilingly. 
 
 But whether Madame de Stael enjoyed too healthy a sleep, 
 or whether the ghost was afraid of the celebrated lady, with 
 whose language he was perhaps not familiar, he did not make 
 his appearance during her sojourn at Jena; and upon her re- 
 turn, she said that only German eyes could see German ghosts, 
 for belief in them would do wonders. 
 
 Schiller always disliked such remarks. He did not know 
 how to take a jest, and raillery was distasteful to him ; he 
 scented in 'every thing of the kind personal allusions, and felt 
 offended when he should have laughed. But, he did not know- 
 how to laugh. So he was now very angry with Madame d 
 Stud for boasting that the German ghosts had run away before
 
 THREE MONTHS AT WEIMAR. 
 
 her, and said, " He was not at all surprised at that, inasmuch 
 as Satan's assistant himself would have refused to have any- 
 thing to do with her." * 
 
 Goethe was on better terms with her. He confessed that he 
 had never met with so much mind in a woman, and that he 
 would never have deemed it possible to find so gifted a woman. 
 Her ardor, her glowing enthusiasm, made an agreeable im- 
 pression on him ; he liked to draw strength and inspiration 
 from such a flame, and, as Madame de Stein acknowledged, 
 became in consequence again accessible to other noble ladies. 
 However, nearly a month went by before Goethe-took up his 
 abode in Weimar again, and received the distinguished stranger 
 at his house. Her great vivacity, her constant questioning, 
 denying, and arguing against the opinions of others, at times 
 tired him, too; for he felt only too well how vain were their 
 endeavors to convince one another, when they started from 
 such o'pposite points. 
 
 Constant had meanwhile suddenly returned to Weimar, and 
 both his departure and arrival gave rise to more rumors in 
 the small town, as he took pains to enshroud his journey in a 
 mysterious veil. Madame de Stael, who always missed him 
 during his absence, received him in the most cordial manner. 
 Constant sat before her in confusion, for falsehood was again 
 on his lips. 
 
 " I know you have missed me, man cher Benjamin," she said 
 to him. " No matter where you may be, you do not find any- 
 body to replace me. Is it not so ? " 
 
 He could answer this question at least in the affirmative. 
 
 The mysticism of M'lle de Hardenberg had tried him, and in 
 
 the long run filled him with a genuine longing for his gifted 
 
 friend. He loved the former because he could rest at her heart. ; 
 
 * Reminiscences of Henrietta Her/;. ,
 
 392 
 
 he was attracted toward the latter because she was certain to 
 impart fresh elasticity to his mind. 
 
 " I wish to appoint an evening for reading to my friends," 
 said Madame de Stael ; " and I rejoice the more to have you 
 here, as your opinion concerning the play which I shall read 
 will be decisive. What shall I select ? " 
 
 " Read Macbeth to them, or perform Juliet, a role in which 
 you are inimitable," he replied. 
 
 " Yes, if there were no women in Weimar ! But they look 
 upon me now already with visible ill-will. Because they 
 themselves are so insignificant, they grudge me my mind. Ah, 
 Benjamin, if there were more women as gifted and cultivated 
 as I am, how different men would be ! Female society has 
 created in Paris that spirit of conversation, which is so inimi- 
 table, so seductive, so enchanting. The influence which we 
 exercise over your sex is incalculable. But here the women do 
 not comprehend their position; they do not even try to rule by 
 their mind, tact, and amiability. Here they choose husbands 
 only to become mothers, and forget that with their minds they 
 shall educate citizens to their fatherland." 
 
 " Their ill-will must not disturb you," replied Constant. 
 " The grapes are sour, says the fox, when he cannot reach 
 them." 
 
 " You have learned that word from me, Constant," said Mad- 
 ame de Stael, smiling. 
 
 " Will you censure me for knowing how to pick up pearls ? ' 
 
 She looked at him tenderly. 
 
 Madame de Stael postponed her departure from week to 
 week, and a visit of a few days was prolonged to one of sev- 
 eral months. The Court treated her in the most flattering 
 manner, and the people of Weimar became more and more ac- 
 customed to the presence of the stranger who, in the conscious-
 
 THREE MONTHS AT WEIMAE. 393 
 
 ness of her superiority, disdained the nimbus imparted by hy- 
 pocrisy and artificial means. What distinguished her most 
 strikingly from other women, was the frankness and straight- 
 forwardness of her being; and what her own sex feared more 
 than anything else, were the words of naked truth on her lips. 
 
 Johannes von Miiller arrived at Weimar. She wished to form 
 Us .acquaintance, too, and postponed her departure again. 
 Schiller almost grew impatient at it For a short time, he had 
 suffered this stranger to disturb him in his peculiarities ; but 
 in the long run he rebelled against being taken back, in so 
 spirited and ingenious a manner, from the world of his dreams 
 into the realm of reality, so that his words, " The earth does 
 not exist for me," died away before it. Like all idealists, he 
 could not bear contradiction, and the refusal to acknowledge 
 his stand-point always irritated him. And Madame de Stael 
 would not and could not do that. 
 
 " Je marche avec des sabots mr la terre quand on veut me forcer 
 a viure dans les nuages," she said, smilingly, when he had left 
 he? in great agitation, after wrangling with her a long time. 
 
 After her departure, Madame de Stein wrote to her son : 
 
 " I believe Madame de Stael has caused Goethe to long again 
 for intercourse with somewhat more cultivated women than 
 those who have surrounded him of late." 
 
 17*
 
 THE HYPERBOREAN ASS. 
 
 THE mists of winter still enshrouded the capital of Prussia, 
 when Madame de Stael reached Berlin. Joseph Bonaparte had 
 furnished her with the best of recommendations to distinguished 
 men in that city, and especially had he written to the Em- 
 bassador, M. Laforest, and requested him to render her sojourn 
 at Berlin as agreeable as possible ; for the ill-will of the First 
 Consul was unable to lessen his personal friendship for her. 
 
 Upon her arrival, Madame de Stael was presented to the 
 Court, and received with great distinction. The beautiful Queen 
 Louisa met her in all her gracefulness, and said to her in her 
 amiable manner: 
 
 " <Tespere, Madnme, que vous me croyez trap bon gout pour n'etre 
 jasjlattee de wire arrives a Berlin. Hy a longtemps queje vous en 
 admireeetfai ete impatiente defaire votre connaissance." 
 
 The King, too, took pains to be courteous toward her in his 
 laconic manner. Despite her enthusiasm for constitutional 
 government, Madame de Stael was so much pleased with the 
 Prussian Court that she said, " Berlin etait un des pays leplus 
 Tieureux de Id terre et les plus eclaires." 
 
 She made the acquaintance of Prince Augustus ; but, abov* 
 all, she was most favorably impressed with the noble and chi- 
 valrous bearing of Prince Louis Ferdinand his ardor and en- 
 thusiasm. Like herself, he sought les emotions qui pen rcn i <",/i>< r 
 In vie ; like herself, he hated Fonaparte, not only as a
 
 THE HYPEKBOKEAN ASS. 395 
 
 I 
 
 but also because of the moral assassination which he perpe- 
 trated by slandering those whom he hated, and whom his arm 
 was unable to reach. "Je lui permets de tner, metis assassiner 
 morakment, c'est IA ce qui me revolte" he said. 
 
 The learned world, then so numerously represented at Ber- 
 lin, was not long in thronging around her, and the busy and 
 stirring life of a great capital soon engrossed all her thoughts. 
 The rumor that the celebrated lady was in Berlin spread like 
 wildfire, and all now wished to get acquainted with her and to 
 be introduced to her. 
 
 The cultivated society at Berlin possessed at, that time already 
 its cdteries, its tea-parties, and literary ladies whose principal 
 task it was to gather about them a small circle of gifted and 
 interesting men. The Court, however, lived entirely apart from 
 this sphere, and only the princes tried to gain access to these 
 parties. 
 
 A great many of them were held at the houses of Sander, 
 the bookseller, and of the beautiful and gifted Henrietta Herz ; 
 besides, Nicolai and Kotzebue received all distinguished for- 
 eigners at their salons. Madame de Stael was introduced to 
 this circle, and thus met with an opportunity to come in 
 contact with the most cultivated personages of the Prussian 
 capital. 
 
 Kotzebue had reached the zenith of his fame. He had re- 
 cently returned from Siberia, and written his travels, which had 
 made him the hero of the day. His plays also were performed 
 amidst rapturous applause ; he was the Scribe of his time, and 
 his talents entitled him to the popularity which he obtained. 
 
 He lived on the second floor of a house on Tager Street, in 
 good style, which a present from the Emperor Paul, consisting 
 of three hundred serfs,* enabled him to do. His rooms were 
 * Vide Recollections of Frederick Laun.
 
 396 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 the rendezvous of all strangers, who were received there in the 
 most hospitable manner. 
 
 Madame de Stael was not long in directing her steps hither. 
 She was very fond of the stage, and liked to perform dramatic 
 roles. She had assiduously studied German at Weimar, and 
 was now able to follow a dramatic performance. The witti- 
 cisms which she did not understand, had to be explained to her, 
 and she laughed very heartily as soon as she comprehended 
 them. One of her most ardent wishes, upon her arrival at Ber- 
 lin, was to get acquainted with the author of so many comic 
 scenes, and to see his comedies performed by Iffland. She, 
 therefore, sent Benjamin Constant immediately with a note to 
 him, and looked now impatiently for the arrival of the famous 
 dramatist. 
 
 Already on the following morning, his handsome equipage 
 halted in front of her house, and M. de Kotzebue was an- 
 nounced to her. When he entered the room, Madame de Stacl 
 started back with an involuntary "Ah ! " of surprise. Her ima- 
 gination had traced to her a widely different portrait of the 
 famous dramatist ; and now she stood before a man, who, aside 
 from a certain expression of shrewdness, had a very common 
 and by no means intellectual face. 
 
 She begged him to be seated, and hoped that the wit and hu- 
 mor of his conversation would indemnify her for this disap- 
 pointment She was mistaken, however. Kotzebue was one 
 of those men whose pens alone overflow with wit and humor, 
 but who in their intercourse with the world are grave, taciturn 
 and laconic. Lesfrais de la conversation were left to her alone. 
 
 However, he had to reply to her direct questions, and she 
 had no hesitation in asking him for information concerning tho 
 most various subjects. " Can I be useful to you in any way, 
 Madame ? " asked Kotzebue, in the course of the conversation.
 
 THE HYPEKBOREAX ASS. 39" 
 
 " Yes, you can, Monsieur," she replied, politely ; " by afford- 
 r me the pleasure of your company as often as possible 
 " You are very kind. But can I not be useful to you in some 
 her way, too, without deriving any personal advantage there- 
 from ? Pray command me." 
 
 "I should like to get acquainted with Tieck, who is said 
 
 read so exceedingly well. I hear he is every now and 
 
 then m Berlin. And Augustus William Schlegel, who I 
 
 have been told, is reading somewhere, Calderon's Devotion at 
 
 t/ie Gross." 
 
 " Unfortunately, I am unable to introduce these two gentle- 
 men to you, for both of them belong to the new poetical school 
 which I try to overthrow in the journal which I have estab- 
 lished here," he replied, regretfully. 
 
 " So there is war between you-open war ! exclaimed Mad- 
 ame de Stael. <I l ike that There is life and activity in it 
 ou attack your adversaries, you defend yourself, and thereby 
 arrive at new results. But may I inquire what is the cause of 
 this literary war? " 
 
 " They reproach us with standing on the ground of reality 
 while they want to bave poetry transferred to the realm of en- 
 chanting dreams. They intend to found a romantic school 
 
 "Ah, if that is the case, I shall side with you, Monsieur" 
 exclaimed Madame de Stael, warmly. "I shall never relish 
 those airy phantoms inhabiting the mists of Ossian,' and com- 
 ing to us from a world which our eye has not seen. Where 
 and how can I meet those gentlemen ? For I should like to 
 form their acquaintance for all that." 
 
 "The house of Madame Bernardi, where Augustus William 
 Schlegel lives, is the rendezvous of their clique; just signify 
 your wish to be introduced there, Madame, and you will be in- 
 vited immediately."
 
 398 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 " But Iffland I shall find at your house, Monsieur, shall 1 
 not?" 
 
 " Certainly, if you will afford me the pleasure of spending 
 an evening at my house, you will meet him and Rhigini, the 
 composer." 
 
 " Now, you must tell me also all ahout Fichte. I am very 
 anxious to get acquainted with him in order to penetrate 
 the spirit of his philosophy. You must communicate to me 
 your views about him." 
 
 " Well, I am less familiar with that subject than with theat- 
 rical matters," replied Kotzebue, smiling. " Authors writing 
 as much as I do, do not find much leisure for reading all the 
 new productions of literature. Permit me, however, to recom- 
 mend you to read my Hyperborean Ass. It will show you the 
 standpoint which I occupy, and what I oppose in literature." 
 
 " The Hyperborean Ass ! That is a dreadful title. What 
 does it mean ? " 
 
 " The Hyperboreans offered to Apollo, asses whose pranks 
 amused him. In the same manner, the world is amused by the 
 senseless phrases of our opponents, whose turgid twaddle they 
 call poetry. Frederick Schlegel has reduced this nonsense to 
 a definite form in his Lucinde, and erected to literature a 
 monument which cannot but cause it to blush. My Hyperbo- 
 rean Ass is to punish him for it. We must exercise poetical 
 justice, Madame." 
 
 " You are a stern judge," said Madame de Stael, wonder- 
 ingly. " It is here, then, tout comme dies nous. Everybody 
 thinks he has found the truth and hates those who deny it. 
 Philosophy, I hope, will be wiser. I hope the philosophers are 
 brethren, and will together strive for light." 
 
 " But one must be the first to find it, and what will then be- 
 come of the rest ? "
 
 THE HYPERBOREAN ASS. 399 
 
 When he had left her, Madame de Stael sent for Benjamin 
 Constant and requested him to get her a copy of the Hyper- 
 borean Ass, and to invite Augustus William Schlegel to visit 
 
 her. 
 
 The dreaded animal appeared in the shape of a small vol- 
 ume of fifty-eight pages, and contained in dramatic form an at- 
 tack upon iMdnde, Frederick Schlegel's notorious novel, which 
 preached the emancipation of the flesh. She had to read this 
 novel before being able to understand Kotzebue's book, and 
 for this purpose she had need of a teacher. While she was 
 looking at these books and musing as to whom she should ask 
 to interpret them to her, Augustus William Schlegel was an- 
 nounced to her. 
 
 He entered the room with the studied bearing and manners 
 of a dandy, and bowed deeply to the celebrated lady. Mad- 
 ame de Stael had risen and come to meet him, in order to thank 
 him for complying with her request. 
 
 " You have made me the happiest of mortals," he said, lay- 
 ing his hand on his breast. " To gaze into these eyes which 
 promise a heaven to us, is a bliss which is not purchased too 
 dearly at the price of half a lifetime. I have read your Del- 
 phine, and .learned to adore its authoress. May I respectfully 
 press to my lips to-day the hand that wrote such beautiful 
 
 words?" 
 
 Madame de Stael granted his request, somewhat surprised 
 at the stiffness with which the German savant practiced French 
 gallantry. She asked him to take a seat, and then inquired of 
 him about Fichte and his philosophy. He would have pre- 
 ferred speaking of himself and his works ; but inasmuch as 
 such were the wishes of the lady, he took pains to portray 
 Fichte's teachings and influence to her with all the eloquence 
 at his command. She listened to him attentively, interrupted
 
 400 MADAME DE STAEL 
 
 him with, many questions, and finally seemed much pleased 
 with him. 
 
 " You possess a very fine talent to clothe your thoughts in 
 words, M. Schlegel," she said ; " I have not conversed in Ger- 
 many with anybody whose conversation afforded me so much 
 pleasure ; and, if you will take the trouble, you can give me 
 information on a great many subjects. I understand you very 
 well, and am much pleased with your method of explaining 
 intricate questions. Suppose you accompany me during my 
 journey ? I want a tutor for my eldest son. If you should be 
 willing to take this situation, I should be the gainer, the more 
 as I should derive so much profit and pleasure from my con- 
 stant intercourse with you." 
 
 " Your offer is a very flattering one indeed," said Schlegel, 
 in surprise ; " and nothing could be more agreeable to me than 
 to live all the time in such close proximity to you ; but I have 
 to devote too much time to my literary labors, to be able to be 
 useful to your son. I am engaged in translating Shakespeare, 
 and I hope my production will be creditable to me. I should 
 not like to relinquish it now." 
 
 " You will have plenty of spare time for that purpose, Monsieur. 
 Two or three hours a day would be all the time I should expect 
 you to devote to my children. You would, moreover, be treated 
 with all the consideration which an honored guest of my house 
 may expect. The only thing which I demand of my son's tutor 
 is qu'tt ait fait F amour et ne le fosse plus.* I believe, however, 
 you will be able to fulfill this condition. You know the world 
 'and life, and are done with them." 
 
 Schlegel grew visibly confused, and hesitated to reply. 
 
 " You may think so, Madame, in regard to my marriage ; 
 and yet a man of my age, and who is perfectly free and inde- 
 *Allonville, p. 312.
 
 THE HYPERBOREAN ASS. 401 
 
 pendent-I should not like to promise you anything in this 
 respect." 
 
 " Very well," said Madame de Stael, smiling, '< let us say no 
 
 nore about it now, and you will think of it. If you will in 
 
 the meantime be kind enough to read with me for an hour 
 
 every morning, you will put me under great obligationS) an(J 
 
 as you will thus get better acquainted with me, you will find 
 
 t whether or not your constant intercourse with me would 
 
 smnify you for what you would leave behind in Berlin " 
 "It would; you need not. doubt it," exclaimed Schle-el 
 I hesitate from a widely different motive I am ' 
 first an author, and then only a man. For the time being it 
 will afford me the greatest pleasure to make you acquainted 
 with what our Germany is able to offer you, and I request 
 > appoint an hour when I am to wait upon you " 
 
 LO to-morrow morning, if you please; I desire to read 
 the Hyperborean Ass with you ; owing to the allusions which 
 
 mtams, I am unable to understand it." 
 
 "What, the Hyperborean Ass? "exclaimed Schlegel in sur- 
 
 pn* "My antagonist's book? Why do you wish to read it 
 
 The author recommended it to me, and I am anxious to see 
 
 what your literary quarrels are about, and why you wage war 
 
 with each other." 
 
 ;it is envy on his part-nothing but envy," warmly ex- 
 
 daimed Schlegel. -But we have managed to avenge ourselves. 
 
 e frivolous comedies, destitute as they are of any genuine 
 
 ue, and by no means in keeping with our civilization, excite 
 
 >e enthusiasm of the multitude, and make their author more 
 
 popular than any other literary man. Wecannot tolerate this- 
 
 we shall annihilate him ; we must annihilate him 
 
 should be very sorry if you did; for he entertains me 
 very pleasantly, and I like to laugh," said Madame de Stael
 
 402 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 " If such be the case if these trivial comedies entertain you, 
 I shall keep silent," replied Schlegel, angrily, and left the 
 room. 
 
 " Strange, very strange," said Madame de Stael, shaking her 
 head, after the door had closed after him. Although she could 
 not approve the spirit from which these enmities arose, tlicy 
 amused her, and, to inform herself about this literary war, she 
 asked, wherever she went, if the old or new poetical school 
 was represented there. But at her own receptions, representa- 
 tives of both parties were present, and the most relentless 
 enemies met there quite unexpectedly. After one of these 
 soirees she wrote to Wieland : 
 
 "BEKLrn, March 31, 1804. 
 
 " Yes, my dear Wieland, I am here in Berlin, amidst a rather 
 noisy social life; but at heart I long for the pleasant intercourse 
 which I held with all of you in Weimar. I was received here 
 with the utmost politeness ; but people in Berlin have no time 
 to see enough of one another, so that their acquaintance always 
 remains a superficial one ; and the complete separation of Ihe 
 two societies, that of the court and that of the literary world, 
 imparts to the former often a most tiresome frivolity. They 
 speak French here, and make French calembours ; and yet, 
 ignorant as I am of the German language, I long for the quaint 
 humor with which you speak French, inasmuch as I am con- 
 vinced that Germany will not be the gainer in imitating our 
 French sprightliness. 
 
 " I have seen the learned men here. Fichte, Ancillon, and 
 Spalding interest me most among them. I caused Kotzebue 
 and Schlegel to meet in the same room, as might have been 
 expected of a stranger to whom their private feuds were un- 
 known ; and I told Schlegel that he injured not you, but him- 
 self, by attaching the foremost literary celebrities of Europe.
 
 THE HYPEEBOKEAX ASS. 403 
 
 How I regret that the time is past when there was still a 
 noble emulation between the savants and authors of Germany ! 
 I repeat it; only Frenchmen are able to insult each other 
 gracefully." 
 
 "I cannot do anything here but read German books with 
 Schlegel, who has kindly consented to be my teacher. Trans- 
 lations and studies are incompatible with four invitations par 
 jour. But I have been told that social life would be much 
 duller in the month of June. 
 
 " Tell me that you still love me, and that you still protect my 
 life by your wishes and friendship. 1 have written to your 
 seductive Duchess, as you call her, and addressed three letters 
 to M'lle de Goechhausen, with the request to remember me to 
 you. Did she do so ? 
 
 " I have not yet written to Goethe. You call him my favori te, 
 without bearing in mind that I must be more attached to you, 
 because you are more susceptible of love. Adieu, adieu ; give 
 me your poetical blessing ; I prefer it to that of Capuchins and 
 Idealists. Adieu ! 
 
 "N. DE STAEL."
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 AN EVENING WITH HENRIETTA HERZ. 
 
 MADAME DE STAEL had rented the ground-floor of a house 
 on the banks of the Spree, which reminded her of those of the 
 Seine, and, therefore, filled her every now and then with the 
 illusion that she was in her dear Paris. 
 
 One morning, when she was yet fast asleep, her maid woke 
 her up, and informed her that Prince Louis Ferdinand was halt- 
 ing on horseback under her window, and wished to see her. 
 It was not yet eight o'clock. Much surprised at the unseason- 
 able time of his visit, she rose in haste and stepped to the win- 
 dow in order to speak with him. 
 
 The Prince presented a very handsome appearance. The 
 fresh morning air, as well as a certain agitation, added to the 
 charms of his prepossessing face to-day. Madame de Stael's 
 eyes rested with pleasure and admiration on his fine, chivalrous 
 form as he saluted her. 
 
 " I wish to inform you," he began, " that the Duke of 
 Enghien has been arrested on the soil of Baden and carried to 
 Vincennes, where a military commission has sentenced him to 
 be shot This outrage has filled me with the most intense in- 
 dignation." 
 
 " What a story ! " replied Madame De Stael. " Do you not 
 see, Prince, that the enemies of France have invented and cir- 
 Vilated it ? " 
 
 " If you do not believe what I say," said the Prince, " I shall 
 send you the Moniteur containing the sentence."
 
 AN EVENING WITH HENRIETTA HEKZ. 405 
 
 So saying, he spurred his horse and galloped off, with an 
 air expressive of vengeance or death. 
 
 Madame de Stael withdrew thoughtfully from the window. 
 
 A quarter of an hour afterward, a footman brought her the 
 number of the Moniteur containing the account of the execu- 
 tion of the Duke of Enghien, and a letter from the Prince, 
 which read as follows : 
 
 " Louis of Prussia sends to Madame de Stael the paper to 
 which he referred, and it affords him pleasure that he will 
 meet her to-day at the house of the Duchess of Courland." * 
 
 He wrote thus because he was perfectly beside himself at 
 the disgrace inflicted upon the royal blood of the Duke of 
 Enghien. 
 
 Madame de Stael now convinced herself of the truth of the 
 intelligence which he had communicated to her. She paced 
 the room in great agitation, and soliloquized aloud in order to 
 give vent to her indignation. With her heart still overflowing 
 with bitter feelings, she finally dressed herself in order to drive 
 to the Duchess of Courland, who had invited her to dinner. 
 
 The Duchess had but few guests to-day.f Madame de Stael 
 met at her house, beside Prince Louis Ferdinand, Johannes 
 von Mtiller and Henrietta Herz, whose beauty and grace made 
 the most agreeable impression upon her. The conversation 
 referred exclusively to the mournful fate of the unfortunate 
 Duke of Enghien ; and it was not until after dinner when. 
 Prince Augustus and several other gentlemen made their ap- 
 pearance that it became more cheerful. 
 
 Madame de Stael requested every guest to tell her something 
 about Fichte's philosophy, which she wished to understand. 
 These requests were frequently somewhat out of place and em- 
 
 * " Dix Annies d'Exil, par Madame de Stael." 
 t " Keminiscences of Henrietta Herz."
 
 406 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 barrassing, inasmuch as it was difficult to say much about so 
 grave a subject in a company of merry guests. So, when Prince 
 Augustus greeted her to-day, he asked her, jocosely, if she had 
 already succeeded in mastering the whole of Fichte's philoso- 
 phy. " Oh! fy paroiendrai" she replied, most decidedly, but 
 withal with a sharpness of tone showing very plainly that she 
 had understood the hidden meaning of the question. 
 
 As she knew that Henrietta Herz was ultimately acquainted 
 with Augustus William Schlegel, she embraced the opportunity 
 to inform her that she was anxious to engage him as a tutor 
 for her children, and that she could not imagine what pre- 
 vented him from accepting her offers, inasmuch as she was 
 ready to fulfill all conditions which he might impose upon her. 
 
 " Voiis avez quelgue ascendant sur lui" she said to her in the 
 course of the conversation. " All I want him to do is to give 
 German lessons to my son and daughter ; the rest of his time 
 shall belong to him. His pretext is that translation of Shake- 
 speare at which he is working ; but I cannot see," she ex- 
 claimed, very warmly, " why he must live in Berlin in order 
 to translate the English poet. Pray persuade him to accept 
 my offers." 
 
 The fact was, that Schlegel wished to remain at the Prussian 
 capital, not on account of the English poet, but for the sake of 
 a lady of Berlin. He was the devoted friend of Sophie Ber- 
 uarcli, nee Tieck, afterwards Madame de Knorring. As soon 
 as Madame de Stael learned this, she requested Henrietta Herz 
 to invite Schlegel and his fair friend to a soiree at her house, 
 that she might get acquainted with the lady. But Sophie 
 Bernardi did not speak a word of French ; the two ladies, 
 therefore, would be unable to converse with each other ; and 
 Henrietta Herz, foreseeing the painful embarrassment of an 
 mjervicw between them, hesitated to fulfill the wish of her
 
 AN EVENING- WITH HENRIETTA HERZ. 407 
 
 celebrated friend. Madame de Stael, however, would not per- 
 mit her to refuse her request, and so she appointed a day when 
 Necker's daughter was to meet Sophie Bernard! at her house. 
 " Je la verrai parler I " exclaimed Madame de Stael, with her 
 irresistible vivacity, and impatiently looked forward to the 
 hour when she was to form the acquaintance of the lady whom 
 Schlegel admired so intensely. 
 
 Henrietta Herz had invited a large number of guests, in 
 order to mask Madame de Stael's intention as much as possi- 
 ble ; it would have been marvelous, however, if Sophie Ber- 
 nard! had not divined it, nevertheless. For no sooner did she 
 address a word to Schlegel, than Madame de Stael would say to 
 him with her habitual vivacity, " Qu'est ce qu'dle ditf " and as 
 he stood behind her chair, he could not but translate to her the 
 remarks which Sophie had made. He rendered them, how- 
 ever, by no means faithfully. When Sophie had said anything 
 at which Madame de Stael might take umbrage, he changed 
 the meaning of her words. This caused the other guests to 
 smile, and Henrietta Herz finally was fearful lest Madame de 
 Stael should notice it and take umbrage at it. So, in order to 
 prevent an unpleasant scene, she suddenly put a stop to the 
 deceitful conduct of the distinguished translator. Sophie Ber- 
 nard! asserted that the French language was not musical at all, 
 and, hence, unfit for singing ; when Madame de Stael asked 
 Schlegel, " Qu'est ce qtfelle ditf" he translated a remark bestow- 
 ing a flattering encomium on the melodious element of the 
 French language. Henrietta Herz then corrected the translator ; 
 and Madame de Stael, instead of propounding any further 
 questions to him, contented herself, as she had promised, with 
 hearing Sophie Bernardi speak. 
 
 Madame de Stael gave, during her sojourn in Berlin, every 
 Friday, a soiree, to which she never invited more than three
 
 408 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 ladies. Henrietta Herz was frequently among them, and she 
 was invited also to the last party which Madame de Stael gave 
 in the Prussian capital. Her other female guests were the 
 Duchess of Courland and Madame de Berg, and the conver- 
 sation was exceedingly animated, sprightly, and interesting. 
 Especially amiable was Prince Louis Ferdinand, who was even 
 kind enough to offer Madame de Stael to have his piano 
 brought to her house, and play to her guests on Friday next. 
 
 But man proposes, and God disposes. On Friday next, 
 Madame de Stael was not to be any longer in Berlin. A sud- 
 den end was put to her sojourn in that city, by the intelligence 
 that her father had been taken sick. She had been but six 
 weeks at the Prussian capital when this mournful news 
 reached her, and suddenly thwarted all her plans. The phi- 
 losophy of the German professors was immediately forgotten, 
 the Hyperborean Ass was flung aside, the many new relations 
 were broken off, her trunks were hurriedly packed, and she 
 set out for Coppet. She did not know yet the terrible calamity 
 that haJ befallen her ; she was still full of hope and confidence 
 and refused to yield to serious apprehensions. 
 
 It was not until she reached Weimar that another letter in- 
 formed her of what had occurred. Her grief knew no bounds ; 
 her words, her tears, were those of despair ; she had fits and 
 convulsions ; she screamed and raved ; and was, in the full sense 
 of the word, on the verge of madness. 
 
 Madame de Stein to Tier Son. 
 
 " WEIMAR, April 29, 1804. 
 
 " Madame de Stael returned from Berlin before Goethe was 
 able to answer her letter, because her father had died in the 
 meantime. She sets no bounds to her grief, has convulsions, 
 and screams and wails all the time amidst her streaming tears.
 
 AN EVENING WITH HENBIETTA HEKZ. 409 
 
 How sad it is that Nature did not add a little wisdom to all 
 the extraordinary talents which it bestowed upon her. But that 
 is wanting to her. William Schlegel accompanies her as tutor 
 of her son, Augustus. She will set out to-morrrow for Coppet. 
 
 " She was unable to compose herself. Her grief had so over- 
 powered her that her physical indisposition prevented her soul 
 from recovering its tranquillity. 
 
 " "William Schlegel and Constant sat opposite to her in the 
 traveling-coach, and took the utmost pains to console her ; but 
 all their efforts were in vain. She felt that no one would ever 
 love her as her father had loved her ; that no one would hence- 
 forth accompany her in her life -path with so much solicitude, 
 confidence, and tenderness, as he had done ; and the most ter- 
 rible loneliness, that of the heart, fell like a pall on her soul. 
 
 " ' One day one more day,' she exclaimed, imploringly, that 
 she might see him once more, hear his dear voice again, and 
 read in his eyes that he perceived and pitied the grief of his 
 child ; but this one day who did not implore it in the course 
 of his life, and who did not hear the terrible, ' No ? 
 
 " For the first time, the dread silence of the grave struck terror 
 into her heart ; for the first time, this weird stillness and lone- 
 liness caused her restless and active soul to tremble. Her eyes 
 gazed upon the landscape around her, in order to discover in it 
 a picture analogous to her grief; she contemplated the trees of 
 the forest in their beautiful foliage, in the lovely verdure of 
 May, and envied them for their constantly renewing vitality, 
 which enables them to outlive centuries ; and to man, whose 
 mind embraces time and eternity, was granted but such a brief 
 span, scarcely sufficient to perceive the good, but not to reach 
 it!" 
 
 Bcttina von Arnim to GoetJie's Mother. 
 
 " This time I am angry with you, Madame ; why did you not 
 18
 
 410 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 send me Goethe's letter? Since August 13th, I have not re- 
 ceived a line from him, and now September is already drawing 
 to a close. Madame de Stael may have helped him to while 
 his time away, so that he did not think of me. I dined with 
 her yesterday in Mayence ; as the other ladies refused to sit by 
 her, I took the seat next to her. It was uncomfortable enough, 
 as the gentlemen crowded around the table in order to speak 
 with her and look her in the face. They even bent over me ; 
 and when I said, ' Vos odorateurs me suffoquent] she laughed. 
 She told me that Goethe had alluded to me in his conversa- 
 tions with her; I sat still in order to learn what he had said 
 about me ; and yet I was displeased, for I do not want him to 
 talk of me with anybody ; and, after all, I do not believe that 
 she told me the truth ; finally, the crowd of men bending over 
 me, in order to converse with her, became so large that I could 
 not stand it any longer ; so I said to her, ' Vos lauriers me 
 pesent trap fort sur les epaules. 1 I rose and elbowed my way 
 through the throng of her admirers. Then Sismondi, her 
 companion, came to me, kissed my hand, told me I was very 
 talented, and said so to others, too ; and they repeated it at least 
 twenty times, as if I were a prince ; for everybody admires all 
 that princes say and do, no matter how insignificant it maybe. 
 Afterwards I listened to what she said about Goethe ; she told 
 us she had expected to find another Werther, but she had been 
 mistaken, neither his bearing nor his figure being in keeping 
 with that character, which had greatly disappointed her. 
 Madame Goethe, I waxed wroth at these remarks. Turning 
 to Schlegel, I said to him in German, ' Madame de Stael was 
 mistaken both in her expectation and opinion of Goethe ; we 
 Germans expect that Goethe will have no difficulty in pro- 
 ducing twenty heroes that would make the same deep im- 
 pression on the French ; and we believe and know that
 
 AN EVEXIVG WITH HENRIETTA HEKZ. 4 JJ 
 
 he himself is a wldely differeut Md much 
 
 -hlegel has acted foolishly in not imparting to her better jn . 
 
 '' "'* which 
 
 been playmg, on the floor; I put m y foot on it, pushed 
 .side and walked away. That is all I can tell you about 
 the celebrated lady. . 
 
 Whenthetravelersapproachedthemountains of Switzerlano 
 Constant pointed out to her a cloud, bearing the shape of a 
 
 igantc man, and which, after covering a summit for some 
 time disappeared at setting-in of night Madame de Stoel 
 
 **ed upon it as a sign sent her from Heaven ; she considered 
 t a symbol of the life o f ner father, whose existence was now 
 
 frora her view by the gloom f an 
 
 Her grief was heart-rending when she reached Coppct and 
 entered the room which he had inhabited, where everything 
 reminded her of him, and everything spoke to her of him* 
 :Iere she was now to live without him whose love had shed so 
 much sunshine over her path, and who alone had known how 
 to render her abode endurable. To the last moments of his 
 :e had occupied himself with her, with the most affectionate 
 sohdtude; during the nine days of his sickness he had only 
 tercd her name and thought of her, only manifested the 
 * uneasiness concerning her future, and expressed deep 
 egret at having published his last work, and thereby brought 
 abou his daughter's exile, which would be more intolerable to 
 her than ever before, when she would not be welcomed at Cop- 
 pet by anything but the graves of her parents With 
 trembling hand he had written, yet in the heat of his fever to 
 -Consul, and assured him that Madame de Stael had 
 d nothing to do with the publication of his last book, and 
 ad, on the contrary, requested him not to issue it.
 
 412 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 There is a wondrously persuasive power in the words of a 
 dying person. It seemed impossible that the last prayer of a 
 roan who had borne so conspicuous a part in the history of 
 France, and who implored the First Consul to permit his child 
 to return to her native country, should be disregarded. With 
 this hope Necker had closed his eyes. 
 
 When his daughter heard of this step of her father's, she 
 thanked him tearfully for the tender solicitude with which he 
 tried on his death-bed to enable her yet to return to her dear 
 Paris. 
 
 She could not believe that the First Consul would turn a 
 deaf ear to such a supplication. But when she heard that her 
 father's letter had made no impression on him, she smiled bit- 
 terly at the folly of her expectation that the death of a man 
 would hush the hatred of a Napoleon.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE settlement of her private affairs had afforded Madame 
 de Stael a certain diversion from her grief, and engrossed all 
 her thoughts. Up to her father's death he had attended to all 
 her business, and saved her all the trouble connected therewith 
 t was, therefore, an entirely unwonted task for her to enter 
 upon the management of the vast fortune which she now in- 
 i-ited of him, beside the two million francs which Necker 
 had lent to the French Government during the Revolution, and 
 which France had never refunded to him. 
 
 Little as this kind of business was to her taste, she deter- 
 mined not to intrust it to others, but to watch personally over 
 the fortune which she wa* resolved to hand down intact to 
 her children. 
 
 She devoted herself to this task with praiseworthy circum- 
 
 :tion. She did not want anybody to say that, gifted as she 
 
 was in other respects, she was disqualified to fulfill the practical 
 
 requirements of life. She had to indemnify her children for 
 
 ss of her father, and she was determined to do so 
 Her son Augustus, who was on the verge of adolescence, had 
 been educated by his grandfather alone. It was now 
 incumbent on her to direct his education and to watch over 
 studies. The lessons which Schlegel gave him were insuffl- 
 Ment ; and as she was prevented from living in Paris, she went 
 the time to Geneva, where good schools and teachers of all 
 branches of knowledge were at her command.
 
 414 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 These duties and occupations produced a favorable effect 
 upon her state of mind, and added to her tranquillity. As long 
 as she remained as active as she was now, as long as these exi- 
 gencies of reality knocked at her door, she forgot her grief, and 
 experienced a certain satisfaction at the thought that she was 
 acting in consonance with the wishes of her late lamented 
 father, and that she was certain of his approbation. This con- 
 sciousness did her good, and imparted fresh strength to her. 
 
 At length, however, everything was settled; lawyers and 
 courts no longer claimed her attention, and a profound silence 
 reigned again around her. Her children were poring over their 
 books ; Schlegel worked with them or for himself; Benjamin 
 Constant read the papers, cast longing glances up to the clouds, 
 all of which he thought were moving towards Paris, and 
 turned over the works of Schiller and Goethe in order to find 
 something, the translation of which might render him as famous 
 as Schlegel had become by that of Shakespeare; for his vanity 
 craved for applause ; he could not bear a life of tranquillity ; he 
 was bound to play a role, and to obtain laurels as an actor on 
 the political stage. 
 
 His presence could not comfort and soothe Madame de Stael, 
 but only entertain and excite her. He was exceedingly elo- 
 quent, he argued with her, he raised paradoxes and dropped 
 them again, and these intellectual contests diverted both of 
 them for hours. 
 
 It was still impossible for her to take up a book. Whenever 
 she was vividly excited, whenever she was a prey to pain or 
 grief, she was unable to turn her thoughts upon anything not 
 connected with it. Such was now the case again. She turned 
 over page after page, and did not know what she was reading. 
 
 In her present state of mind, she was only able to write ; but 
 ehe lacked the courage to do so. Her father could no longer
 
 MADAME BE STAEL's JOUBNEY TO ROME. 415 
 
 read what she wrote ; he could no longer rejoice at the encomi- 
 ums bestowed upon her; he alone had taken such an affec- 
 tionate interest in her; without him she felt lonely and de- 
 serted. 
 
 " Why do you complain of loneliness ? " Constant said to her. 
 " Is friendship, then, nothing to you ? Am I not here to share 
 sunshine and tempest with you ? Do I not stand'by your side 
 to rejoice at your successes ? Do you care so little for niy ap- 
 plause that you do not deem it worth while to write in order 
 to obtain it ? Is your muse silent when she is to play her 
 cithera before me ? " 
 
 Madame de Stael shook her head mournfully. "Only a 
 father can love purely and disinterestedly," she said, sadly ; 
 " he alone rejoiced truly at my successes. But you, Benjamin,' 
 with all your friendship for me, you resemble all men in 
 granting to your self-love the first place in the catalogue of 
 your passions." 
 
 So saying, she left the room. 
 
 Benjamin Constant looked after her in surprise. No doubt, 
 he felt that she did not misjudge him. 
 
 Ever since her father's death, Madame de Stael had been in 
 feeble health. A doctor was sent for, and declared that only a 
 change of place, a different climate, other people and other 
 surroundings, could dispel her grief and cure her of her sleep- 
 lessness. He therefore advised her to go to Italy and spend 
 the winter in Rome, whose art-treasures, he hoped, would 
 arouse her from the apathy following in the wake of Ion-con- 
 tinued grief. She had to follow this advice, but insisted on not 
 leaving Coppet until she had written a biography of her father, 
 which was to show to the world what virtues he had possessed,' 
 from what motives he had acted, what he had been as a hus- 
 band and father, and how dearly he had loved his daughter.
 
 410 MADAME I>E STAEL. 
 
 After performing this task, she was ready to undertake a jour- 
 ney upon which she entered without hope or joy, and filled with 
 forebodings of her death. 
 
 All night long she walked about like a restless ghost. To 
 put an end to her fast-increasing sleeplessness, the physician 
 prescribed the use of opium, which, since that time, she was 
 unfortunately unable to give up again. 
 
 Augustus William Schlegel was not long in accustoming 
 himself to his new position. He treated the gifted lady with 
 so much courtesy and kindness, and bestowed such enthu- 
 siastic encomiums on her genius, that Benjamin Constant 
 could not refrain from suspecting that the German professor 
 desired to be even more than a friend and the tutor of her chil- 
 dren. The present circumstances, however, were decidedly 
 unfavorable for bringing about closer relations between the 
 two. Her grief was so profound that she took his efforts to 
 please her as expressions of his compassion, and thanked him 
 in this spirit. 
 
 The eldest son of Madame de Stael was already a youth, and 
 assisted his mother with the kindness and prudence of a friend ; 
 she treated him thus, and asked on all occasions his advice 
 and approval. His boundless love rewarded her for this confi- 
 dence. 
 
 The summer months had slowly elapsed in this manner. 
 Benjamin Constant had profited by them to begin a translation 
 of Schiller's WaUemtein. While she was working at the bio- 
 graphy of her father, and therefore had no need of him dur- 
 ing the morning hours, he could devote himself uninterrupt- 
 edly to this task. 
 
 At noon she made her appearance, with eyes red with weep- 
 ing, in her family circle. The recollections of past days, the 
 jotting down of so many affectionate remarks which her
 
 MADAME DE STAEL's JOURNEY TO ROME. 417 
 
 father had addressed to her during the closing months of his 
 ife, filled her eyes again and again with tears. 
 
 She wrote these reminiscences in the same cabinet of the 
 ha-teau of Coppet where Necker had worked-at the very 
 window where his writing-table had stood. There she had a 
 fine view of the grove where a monument had been erected 
 over his grave, as well as of the long alley where he always, at 
 parting, had waved to her a last farewell. 
 
 She called to mind an evening in the preceding autumn, 
 when she had sat by his side at the same spot, and, filled per- 
 haps with a momentary foreboding of the loss that was 5u 
 store for her, had asked him what was to become of her if she 
 should ever be compelled to live without him. 
 
 "My child," he had answered in a broken voice, " Dim mes- 
 ure le vent mix brebis depouttlees." 
 
 "Ah! "she now said to herself, "I am very unhappy I 
 have neither a country nor a home: the grave of my parents 
 is my only home." 
 
 But, profound as her grief was, never did it render her hard- 
 hearted; never did she forget her friends, and become indiffer- 
 ent to that which concerned them. Thus she wrote to Mad- 
 ame Recamier, when that beautiful lady lost her fortune: 
 
 GENEVA, Nov. 17, 1804. 
 
 " Ah, my dear Juliette, how much pain that dreadful intelli- 
 gence has given me ; how I execrate an exile which prevents 
 me from hastening to you and pressing you to my heart ! You 
 have lost all that makes life sweet and agreeable; but even 
 though you were better loved and still more interesting than 
 you are, the same calamity would have befallen you. I shall 
 write to M. Recamier and tell him how much I pity and honor 
 him. Bat tell me, would it be possible for me to see you here 
 18*
 
 418 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 this winter? if you could make up your mind to pass three 
 months in a small circle where you would be received in the 
 most affectionate manner? But then your friends in Paris 
 are sure to treat you in the same manner. Enfin, I shall go at 
 all events to Lyons, or to the utmost limit of my forty leagues 
 in order to see you, embrace you, and tell you that I love you 
 better than .any woman in the world. I do not know how to 
 comfort you, save by saying that the noble traits of your gen- 
 erosity and. benevolence will become more conspicuous in ad- 
 versity than ever before. Your circumstances, no doubt, are 
 no longer what they were; still, could I envy her whom I 
 love, I should give everything in order to be you. A beauty 
 unequaled throughout Europe, a stainless reputation, a proud 
 and generous character what sources of happiness even in 
 this life ; ou Von marche sidepouille. 
 
 " Dear Juliette ! May our friendship grow firmer and firmer ; 
 may it be strengthened, not only by the generous services which 
 you have rendered me, but by a continued correspondence 
 and the mutual desire of a constant interchange of feelings 
 and of a common life. Dear Juliette, you might obtain for me 
 permission to return to Paris, for you are always an all-power- 
 ful personage, and we should then see each other every day ; 
 and as you are younger than I, you would close my eyes, and 
 my children would be your friends. My daughter has wept 
 to-day over the tears of both of us. Dear Juliette, the afflu- 
 ence which surrounded you has served to afford us pleasure ; 
 your fortune was ours, and I feel as if I were poor because you 
 are no longer rich. Believe me, those who are loved so dearly 
 are still happy. 
 
 " Benjamin will write to you ; he grieves at your misfortune. 
 Mathieu de Montmorency wrote me a very touching letter con- 
 cerning you. Dear friend, may your heart throb calmly amidst
 
 MADAME DE STAEL's JOUEKEY TO EOME. 419 
 
 so much grief! Alas ! Neither the death nor the indifference 
 of your friends threaten you ; they alone are incurable wounds. 
 Adieu, dear angel, adieu ! I reverently kiss your sweet face." 
 
 At length, on the 25th of October, 1804, Madame de Stael 
 had arranged the posthumous papers of her illustrious father, 
 and sent them to the printer with the sketch which she had writ- 
 ten of his character and private life ; it was not till then that she 
 set out for Italy. 
 
 Hitherto she had not shown a due appreciation of the fine 
 arts. With the exception of music, of which she was passion- 
 ately fond, she was indifferent to everything which did not en- 
 gross the mind. It was not, until now, under the mild sky 
 of happy Italy, that she was to awake to other views, and 
 learn to enjoy with her eyes. A new world arose before her; 
 a new life dawned upon her. 
 
 Accompanied by Schlegel, Benjamin Constant, and her chil- 
 dren, she visited Rome and Naples. Although she had entered 
 upon her journey in the gloomiest state of mind, the novelty 
 of the scene made an overwhelming impression on her, and 
 hushed all her mournful recollections. The fine arts brought 
 their powerful influence to bear on her. Paris, politics, the 
 longing of her lonely heart, the memories of the past, all the 
 grief of the present, faded away at the contemplation of the 
 countless monuments which so many ages had accumulated. 
 She breathed a different air, she heard another language, the 
 centuries of the past spoke to her, and unrolled the most re- 
 mote periods before her view. In Rome she met the fair- 
 haired young Canova, whom she had formerly received at 
 her house in Paris; she met there, furthermore, the two 
 Humboldts, Eliza von der Recke, a number of savants and 
 artists from all quarters of the globe, and, finally, Sophie 
 Bernardi, from Berlin, who had come to Rome probably in
 
 420 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 order to see if the gifted Schlegel had not forgotten her, exposed 
 as he was all the time to the rays of the lustrous eyes of the 
 most interesting lady on earth. If she met with a sore disap- 
 pointment, and if his fidelity had not stood the test, she con- 
 fessed only to herself. 
 
 Joseph Bonaparte had furnished Madame de Stael also with 
 letters of introduction to eminent men in Rome, in order to 
 make her sojourn there as pleasant as possible ; so she met 
 with the most flattering reception. Her house became speedily 
 the rendezvous of the most distinguished personages ; and in 
 the midst of this brilliant circle, her genius beamed as a bright 
 star, and animated all who approached her. 
 
 Her gift of improvisation, her skill in reciting poetry and 
 performing dramatic 'roles, awoke here to renewed life ; and as 
 if the applause and admiration bestowed upon her, and her 
 new-born enthusiasm for the fine arts, kept her in a constant 
 state of rapturous excitement, she forgot herself, and the 
 real happiness that was wanting to her heart, and her grief 
 was hushed for a while. 
 
 Her impressions gave rise to the creation of a new work of 
 art, and Corinne a book with which all my readers are 
 familiar, was the fruit of her sojourn in Rome.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 NAPOLEON'S HATRED. 
 
 MADAME DE STAEL returned from Italy, in the summer of 
 1805, with a rich store of recollections, and took up her abode 
 again at Coppet. Time had exercised its soothing influence 
 over her. She had learned to do without the ever-watchful 
 solicitude of her father; she had accustomed herself to his 
 eyes no longer following her every step, and to his approval no 
 longer stimulating her energy and ambition. Gentle melan- 
 choly filled her heart when she arrived at Coppet, and met him 
 no longer in the rooms where he had welcomed her so often 
 with tender glances and words of affectionate consolation. 
 
 In order not to relapse into her former grief, she now began 
 to work very assiduously at her Cvrinne. This occupation, as 
 well as the instruction of her children, which she herself 
 directed in part, kept her busy during the morning hours, while 
 the afternoon and evening belonged to her friends. 
 
 Guests were not wanting at her house, where everybody met 
 with the most hospitable reception. The name of Madame de 
 Stael had already obtained a world-wide celebrity. All stran- 
 gers who came into that part of Switzerland took pains to visit 
 Coppet. Hence, there were plenty of visitors during the 
 summer and autumn ; and only in the winter months reigned at 
 Coppet that monotony which is so tedious to inhabitants of a 
 large city. In order to escape from this stillness, she removed 
 to Geneva as soon as the roads were passable again.
 
 422 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 The social life of this city did not afford her much pleasure, 
 inasmuch as the austere republican ladies of Geneva treated 
 her with marked disrespect, and their prudery shrank from the 
 frank and straightforward bearing of the gifted lady. Their 
 views of propriety were stiff and narrow-minded, the tone of 
 the Parisian salons grated on their ears, and the social customs 
 of the French capital gave umbrage to them. 
 
 It was impossible for Madame de Stael to make concessions to 
 the prejudices of others. Her motto was, " Fais ce gue dots, 
 udi-ienne que pourra." She set no other bounds to what she 
 would do, and would not do, than such as were in consonance 
 with her inclinations and taste, and she refused to be restrained 
 in this respect by persons who were mentally so greatly infe- 
 rior to her. This pride and firmness made her unpopular. 
 
 Those who do not go with the multitude, will incur its 
 enmity, and it is then a dangerous opponent. 
 
 The fair but austere ladies of Geneva visited Madame de 
 Stael's parties, but only to censure her bitterly for reading, re- 
 ciling poetry, performing dramatic roles in short, doing all she 
 could to entertain herself and her guests as pleasantly as pos- 
 sible. Because they themselves did not possess these talents, 
 she was not to display them in their presence. 
 
 The ever restless and active mind of Madame de Stael stimu- 
 lated also the friends who lived at her house to measure their 
 own strength by a higher standard. The intellectual at- 
 mosphere in which they moved, produced a crushing effect 
 upon weak minds, but it added to the vigor of intellects strong 
 enough to breathe it. Such was the case with Augustus 
 William Schlegel, whose energy and enthusiasm were greatly 
 enhanced since he lived at the house of this remarkable 
 woman, who knew how to awaken slumbering talents, and un- 
 earth hidden treasures.
 
 NAPOLEON'S HATRED. 423 
 
 Whenever there were no visitors, each of the three read in 
 the evening what they had written during the day, and listened 
 to the criticisms of the hearers. This interchange stimulated 
 the ambition and efforts of all of them. 
 
 Madame de Stael read the chapters of Corinne, as thev 
 were completed, to this small circle of friends, who listened to 
 the work with admiration and astonishment. They felt that 
 the heroine was the authoress as she wished to be, and, in fact, 
 was, with the exception of Corinne's beauty. Her own heart- 
 struggles, the disappointments with which she had met, her 
 thirst of fame, her bearing toward the world, the weakness of 
 the men, everything was here idealized and presented to the 
 hearers in a form of great artistic beauty ; and the authoress 
 and heroine often embarrassed them greatly by asking them 
 what they thought of the work. 
 
 Benjamin Constant, especially, recognized himself but too 
 often in Lord Nelvil, although he took good care not to confess it. 
 Very disagreeable feelings would steal upon him on such occa- 
 sions. He then turned his eyes searchingly upon Schlegel in 
 order to see whether or not he suspected who was meant ; 
 Schlegel, however, seemed to notice only the artistic form of 
 the work, without paying any attention to the source whence 
 the subject had been taken. He bestowed the most eloquent 
 encomiums on the authoress, and predicted that she would ob- 
 tain a celebrity such as no woman had ever enjoyed before. 
 
 Schlegel did not suspect the painful interest which Benjamin 
 Constant took in the work, and he therefore often called upon 
 him to join in his praise, but such exhortations were wasted. 
 He persisted in keeping silence, because he felt greatly offended, 
 although he refused to confess it even to himself. The picture 
 of his own weakness arose before him so distinctly, as he heard 
 the delineation of Lord Nelvil's character, that he felt a sort of
 
 424 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 exasperation against Madame de Stael, which he vainly tried 
 to master. His wounded self-love refused to be soothed. 
 
 In order to get rid of these disagreeable impressions, he like- 
 wise began to write a novel which he entitled Adolphe. He 
 depicted in it his soul-struggles, and represented himself the 
 victim of a passion which he was unable to return ; but, de- 
 spite his persistent efforts to hold the heroine responsible for 
 the embarrassing position of the hero, we find here again a 
 feeble character, whose will is always overcome by his inclina- 
 tions. He himself, however, did not perceive the strong re- 
 semblance which the hero of his novel bore to his own charac- 
 ter, and, while he wrote this book, he enjoyed the silent triumph 
 of what he considered his complete justification. The winter 
 passed amidst many little wranglings between him and 
 Madame de Stael, and in the spring she left Geneva in order to 
 return to her dear France. 
 
 She was still exiled from Paris, but was at liberty to take up 
 her abode at a distance of forty leagues from the capital, and 
 she now tried to find a place where she might superintend the 
 publication of her new work. 
 
 Her eldest son, Augustus, whom her father had educated, 
 and who bore a strong resemblance to him, both in his appear- 
 ance and character, had entered the Polytechnic School ; he 
 was thus enabled to visit her at least once a week ; and no 
 one. she thought, would prevent her from going every now 
 and then to Paris, the control at the gates of the city being 
 not so rigorous as that she needed to fear lest she should be 
 refused admittance upon her arrival. Fouche, she knew, 
 was decidedly averse to needless rigor. Bonaparte, who was 
 then at the acme of his power, had little to fear from a 
 woman, who was now, moreover, exclusively occupied with 
 literary labors, and he would certainly not carry his personal
 
 NAPOLEON'S HATRED. 425 
 
 hatred toward her so far as to resort to extreme measures 
 against her. 
 
 Madame de Stael went, in the first place, to Auxerre ; after 
 residing there for some time without being molested by the 
 authorities, she moved to Rouen ; and as the Government still 
 failed to throw any obstacle in the way of her return to the 
 capital, she ventured to approach Paris again by several stages, 
 and took up her abode at Auberge en Ville, where her friends 
 could visit her more frequently than before. 
 
 Here she saw Mathieu de Montmorency at her house ; here 
 she was visited by her beautiful friend, Madame Recamier ; 
 here she yielded again to the whole charm of Parisian society. 
 Augustus William Schlegel now saw her for the first time in 
 her proper element. All the memories of her past happiness 
 awoke again in her mind ; all the dreams of her youth arose 
 agaiu, before her eyes. That sweet happiness for which she 
 had vainly longed for so many years, appeared before her soul 
 in the radiance of renewed hope ; and the thirst of fame, which 
 had once engrossed her, filled her breast again with irresistible 
 desires. What if the appearance of her Gorinne should realize 
 her proudest dreams ? 
 
 She could now hear from her friends in Paris daily, nay, 
 hourly ; every minute she was able to hold intercourse with 
 her acquaintances ; seated on the balcony of her villa, she gazed 
 upon the road and espied those who intended to surprise her 
 with their visit. She was delighted with this change in her 
 circumstances, and, built on that which she had already obtained, 
 the hope of still greater favors. After approaching so close to 
 Paris, she thought she would soon be permitted to return to the 
 capital. 
 
 " Ah, Constant," she said one day, when this subject en- 
 grossed ull her thoughts, " I believe the future will indemnify
 
 426 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 me, after all, for the sufferings and privations which I have 
 undergone. I think it would be delightful for me to return to 
 Paris at the very time when my Corinne appears, and to wit- 
 ness with my own eyes the impression which my book will 
 make on the public." 
 
 " There is no capitol in Paris," he said, sneeringly ; " the Pa- 
 risians do not crown female poets ; heroes alone obtain honor 
 and glory in that city." 
 
 " The applause of my friends will crown me ; I shall read 
 my praise in their faces, and be happy ; they will love me on 
 account of my talents, and their growing attachment will offer 
 me the most beautiful laurel- wreath." 
 
 " I doubt, it," he replied. 
 
 " You doubt it ? " she asked, in surprise. 
 
 " Because Corinne, despite her triumphs, died of a broken 
 heart," he replied, harshly. 
 
 " You can tell me so, Benjamin ! " exclaimed Madame cle 
 Stael, passionately. " You can reproach me with that ? Do 
 you not feel, then, how contemptible such language is toward 
 a woman who might have been indebted to you for her greatest 
 happiness, and, inasmuch as she was unable to obtain it, went 
 in search of consolation wherever she could find it ? You are 
 cruel." 
 
 " You do not know yourself, Germaine," replied Constant, 
 in an unusually grave tone. " You think that your restless 
 spirit, and the yearning of your heart for happiness, is owing 
 to the lack of a certain, indissoluble tie attaching you to a man 
 whom you love ; but you are mistaken. Matrimony is a state 
 of tranquillity, and tranquillity is repugnant to you. Wedded 
 life confines all emotions to certain limits, and you love only 
 that which exceeds these limits ; wedded life requires mutual 
 forbearance, while you want to see the man of your heart at
 
 KAPOLEON'S HATKED. 427 
 
 your feet, and insist on dominating him. Every man is afraid 
 of such a yoke. You have led me, your younger companion, 
 into the path of fame, Germaine ; I have admired your genius ; 
 your conversation enchanted me ; and no matter how often I 
 attempted to break loose from you, I was always irresistibly 
 drawn back toward you, and I could not help returning to her 
 whom I intended to flee. In this struggle my best years have 
 elapsed ; will you reproach me with having sacrificed them to 
 you? Believe me, it was better for us that no indissoluble 
 bonds united us, and that we were mutually free. Had we been 
 chained to one another, the compulsory character of our in- 
 tercourse might have turned our love into hatred; while now, 
 when the years of passion have gone by, the noblest relations 
 of friendship will remain to us for the evening of our life." 
 
 " Remain to us, Constant ? But who tells me that you will 
 remain to me?" exclaimed Madame de Stael, passionately. 
 "Is not everything in life subject to constant changes? Who 
 warrants me that you will not form new relations and leave 
 me? What then? Attached to you by an intercourse of so 
 many years, I shall remain all alone, with the crushing con- 
 sciousness of being spurned and deserted by my old friend ! 
 I have always looked forward fearfully to this contingency 
 and tasted its whole bitterness beforehand in portraying it in 
 my Corinne. There is no happiness for a woman save in wed- 
 ded life ; she must be sure of one friend ; she must kno w ^ rela- 
 tion in life not subject to a sudden change ; she must be able 
 cast anchor somewhere on this little earth, where nothino- is 
 stable. Who warrants me that you will not desert me Con- 
 stant?" 
 
 " I myself," he replied, in a faltering voice. I myself, Ger- 
 maine ! " 
 
 She gazed at him, thoughtfully, for a moment.
 
 428 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 " You yourself? " she then repeated, incredulously. " Yes, 
 if you could be responsible for yourself! For your sake, Ben- 
 jamin, I have incurred the frowns of the world. I have pur- 
 chased the happiness of having you at rny house with many a 
 tear, for which ray children may call me to account one day. 
 My attachment to you has caused many a sad hour to my 
 noble father ; and I shall, perhaps, meet with the grievous disap- 
 pointment to find that I built everything on sand. I have a 
 foreboding as if bitter hours are in store for me, in consequence 
 of my connection with you." 
 
 " Why are you so distrustful of me ? " exclaimed Constant, 
 in confusion. " What is this distrust grounded on ? " 
 
 " On your character, Benjamin. In order to stand firm, you 
 have need of a prop, of a support. You are a child of the mo- 
 ment ; every new impression carries you away ; you cannot be 
 responsible for yourself; moreover, I find that your conduct 
 toward me has undergone a marked change since our return 
 from Italy. What ails you ? " 
 
 " To tell you the truth, Germaine, you have offended me 
 by the delineation of Lord Nelvil's character. I do not deserve 
 it." 
 
 "Why do you recognize yourself in a picture which, you 
 say, bears no resemblance to you ? " she asked, smilingty. 
 
 He was at a loss for a reply, and in his mortification re- 
 proached her with preferring Augustus William Schlegel to 
 him. She burst into loud laughter. 
 
 " In that event, you have found a rival who resorts to artifi- 
 cial means in order to please me," she replied, alluding to 
 SchlegePs careful toilet, which made him look like a fop, and 
 gave rise to many jests on the part of Madame de Stael. 
 
 At this moment they were interrupted by a visitor, and a con- 
 versation to which it would be diflicult for them to recur, was
 
 NAPOLEON'S HATRED. 42 g 
 
 brought to a sudden close. Ochlenschlager, the gifted young 
 Dane, was announced to Madame de Stacl, who was greatly 
 surprised to see before her the poet from the distant North 
 with whom her Mend, Frederica Brun, the female poet of 
 Copenhagen, had made her acquainted. 
 
 She received him in the most cordial manner, and invited 
 him to visit her at Coppet, during his journey in Switzerland, 
 and to spend some time at her house. 
 
 " You must get acquainted with Schlegel, she said, casting 
 iling glance on Constant, to punish him a little for his 
 jealousy. I am sure, M. de Rebecque will be kind enough to 
 call him." 
 
 Schlegel made his appearance, and was introduced by 
 Madame de Stael in a manner indicative of her desire to dis- 
 tinguish him; for she felt that his vanity would not permit 
 stay at her house merely as tutor of her children and 
 she took pains to inform every guest of the distinguished 
 services which he had rendered to literature, and of his talents 
 an author, before mentioning the duties which he had 
 promised to perform toward herself and her children Her 
 nerosity and kind-heartedness would not suffer the world to 
 look down on Schlegel, on account of the valuable services 
 which he rendered to her and to her house. 
 
 Carinna was printed and published. Madame de Stael 
 awaited with breathless impatience the impression which this 
 work would make upon the public, and the fruits which she 
 would reap from it so far as the emperor was concerned. She 
 did not anticipate the grievous disappointment with which she 
 was destined to meet. 
 
 She was, therefore, perfectly dumbfounded when she was 
 informed that a new 'decree of exile was about to be jssued 
 against her. On the first anniversary of her father's death, she
 
 430 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 received the order to part again with her friends and to leave 
 her Parisian home. She refused for a long time to believe that 
 the Government had really issued this order ; and when she 
 could no longer doubt it, she gave way to her despair. Wring- 
 ing her hands, she paced her rooms, and heart-rending sobs 
 and groans choked her words. If she was not to be allowed to 
 reside in Paris if she was not to enjoy there the applause and 
 admiration of her friends and contemporaries, life had lost its 
 charms for her, and she felt that she would pine away in 
 sorrow and despair. 
 
 She was treated unjustly, and she had no arms to defend 
 herself. Napoleon was now so great and powerful, how could 
 his glory be dimmed if the Parisians should occupy themselves 
 awhile with a woman who had written a good book ? 
 
 But her lamentations did not move him her tears left him 
 cold. 
 
 She was compelled to leave Paris and return to Coppet, 
 She submitted to stern necessity with sighs and tears. 
 
 Schlegel and Constant accompanied her. Constant did not 
 conceal his dejection ; for he was loth to leave France, which 
 he likewise considered his native country, and almost indispen- 
 sable to his happiness. 
 
 " Oh, how I long to turn back," said Madame de Stael, 
 when they reached the frontier of France, and cast a longing 
 glance toward the country which she was to leave now for 
 years, and perhaps for ever. " 11 y a comme une joutssance 
 physique dans la resistance a un pouvair injuste" she added. But 
 what resistance was she to offer to Napoleon ? 
 / " France grieves at the departure of her muse," said Schlegel, 
 in the florid manner to which he had accustomed himself as a pub- 
 lic speaker. " Nothing can be more flattering to you than that 
 a Napoleon should deem his glory dimmed by your presence."
 
 NAPOLEON'S HATRED. 431 
 
 I shall no longer sing now," said Madame de Stael, mourn- 
 fully. " The caged nightingale is silent ; and exile is to me a 
 prison." 
 
 " And so it is to others," said Constant, peevishly. " Had 
 you praised Napoleon, instead of censuring him, we should 
 now be very merry in Paris." 
 
 " And I should have sacrificed my convictions to my in- 
 terests, and lost my self-respect. Did you wish me to do 
 
 that?" 
 
 " All we men expect of women is that they should be ami- 
 able, and try to please us," replied Constant, carelessly. " As 
 regards the more serious affairs of life, we shall attend to them 
 
 alone." 
 
 Madame de Stael gazed at Constant; when their glances 
 met, he dropped his eyes. She contemplated him for a minute, 
 while he sat blushing before her ; she then averted her face 
 without adding another word, and spoke with Schlegel on an- 
 other subject.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 PKtNCE AUGUSTUS AT COPPET. 
 
 PEACE had been concluded. Europe breathed more freely, 
 and looked forward to its blessings with renewed hopefulness. 
 The soldiers hastened back to their homes, in order to recreate 
 themselves in the bosom of their families, and social life as- 
 sumed a more brilliant and animated character. Prince Au- 
 gustus of Prussia profited by this opportunity to make a trip 
 to Switzerland, and visited Coppet in order to greet Madame 
 de Stael, whose acquaintance he had made at Berlin, and 
 whom he had learned to esteem, at her own house. 
 He arrived quite unexpectedly. 
 
 Since her return to Switzerland, Madame de Stael had been 
 at work upon an important book on Germany, which required 
 considerable preparatory studies. The first chapter was com- 
 pleted, and she was about to read it to Schlegel and Constant, 
 when the Prince was announced to her. Uttering an "Ah" 
 of agreeable surprise, she rose, in order to go to meet the 
 august guest 
 
 She received him, not ceremoniously, but with the utmost 
 cordiality. Prince Augustus was still in the prime of life, his 
 uniform sat exceedingly well on him, and there was in his 
 bearing something chivalrous, which made a most agreeable 
 impression, and to which Madame de Stael was by no means 
 insensible. She talked with him about Berlin, about her so- 
 journ in that city, and the numerous common friends of whom
 
 1KINCK AUGUSTUS AT COPPET. 433 
 
 the hurry of her departure had prevented her from taking 
 leave, and all of whom yet lived warmly in her remembrance. 
 
 They had not yet sat long together and chatted of the past 
 and present, of Berlin and Paris, when the door opened, and a 
 charming lady entered the room with a light swinging step. 
 She stood still and blushed when she perceived the strange 
 guest ; already she was about to turn to the door in her timidity, 
 when Madame de Stael, casting a sidelong glance of triumph 
 toward the Prince, seized her hand, and begged leave of her 
 guest to present to him her friend, Madame Recamier. 
 
 This name was not unknown to the Prince, for the rare 
 beauty of its bearer had already familiarized all Europe with 
 it. The more was he surprised at her appearance, which bore 
 no resemblance to the picture which his imagination had drawn 
 of her. 
 
 This girlish bashfulness of a lady accustomed to the triumphs 
 of her charms, astonished him ; and this timidity of a beauty of 
 whom the most decided self-consciousness might have been ex- 
 pected, was inexplicable to him. 
 
 He remained standing before her as if spell-bound. He felt 
 strongly tempted to kneel down before this lovely creature and 
 worship her. He had much difficulty in regaining his com- 
 posure, and concealing what was going on in his mind. 
 
 " Fortune smiles on me," he said at last. " Genius and 
 beauty, in their most fascinating form, are going to indemnify me 
 for the hardships of war. How am I to resist such a reunion ? " 
 
 " Stay with us, sire," exclaimed Madame de Stael. "Let us 
 nurse you, and try to recreate yourself here." 
 
 "I should, no doubt, find here the most charming, but withal 
 the most dangerous recreation," replied the Prince, casting a 
 significant glance on Madame Recamier, who was looking at 
 him with sweet naivete. 
 19
 
 434 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 He did stay, not for days or weeks, but for several months, 
 and thought he could never leave this place any more. It was 
 not the social life at Coppet, nor the fascinating conversation of 
 Madame de Stael that detained him here, but the surpassing 
 beauty of her friend. Her charms captivated him more and 
 more, until he was ready to sacrifice everything in order to 
 possess her. But all he was willing to sacrifice, was insufficient 
 for the attainment of his object. Madame Recamier was too 
 pious to consent to obtain a divorce from her husband, and 
 too virtuous to live with the Prince without the sanction of 
 the church and the courts. 
 
 She accepted his homage, without detracting for that matter 
 from her dignit} 7 or sweetness ; she saw him at her feet, and 
 raised him up with angelic grace, without betraying in her face 
 the painful struggle which it cost her to do so, and without 
 showing that her vanity was gratified at having secured the 
 affections of so august a suitor. She was glad to see that he 
 loved her, and rewarded him with a certain humble gratitude 
 for thinking her so amiable. Madame de Stael was delighted 
 with the homage which he paid to Juliette, and was more than 
 ever attached to him since she knew that he admired her fair 
 friend ; for her great and noble heart was free from petty jeal- 
 ousies, and neither malice nor hatred ever gained access to it. 
 
 Prince Augustus passed three months at Coppet, and during 
 his sojourn there he was indefatigable in his efforts to persuade 
 Madame de Recamier to leave her husband and become his 
 wife ; but his impassioned appeals were wasted. Madame de 
 Genlis made this episode the subject of a novel, entitled Mad- 
 emmsdle de Clermont, and the scene of which was laid at Cop- 
 pet, at the house of a rival whom her envy pursued to the 
 last days of her life. 
 
 Madame Recamier left Coppet at last ; and no sooner had
 
 PRINCE AUGUSTUS AT COPPET. 435 
 
 she departed, than the Prince likewise bade farewell to Madame 
 de Stael, in order to forget his love in the noise and bustle of 
 the world. 
 
 Madame de Stael now went to Vienna to complete her prep- 
 arations for her work on Germany. She remained there during 
 the winter. Benjamin Constant went with her eldest son, 
 Augustus, to Paris, where he read his translation of Wallenstein 
 in several salons. 
 
 Some critics hav,e asserted that Madame de Stael's knowledge 
 of German literature was very superficial ; but such was not 
 the case. It is true, Schlegel's advice was very useful to her 
 in this respect, and she concurred in many of his views ; but 
 her opinions, in the main, were perfectly independent, and 
 based on her own studies. She read a volume every morning, 
 and was then perfectly familiar with its contents, as was shown 
 by her conversations on it, which, it is true, often modified her 
 opinions on the subject. 
 
 These grave occupations and a pleasant social life produced 
 a salutary effect upon her, and restored the tranquillity of her 
 mind. She had passed the winter without serious heart-strug- 
 gles ; she had been received in the most courteous and flattering 
 manner ; she had formed a great many new and agreeable ac- 
 quaintances, and returned in the best of spirits to Coppet, 
 where she was soon visited by her Parisian friends. 
 
 With Madame Recamier she had meanwhile kept up an ani- 
 mated correspondence, which, on her part, was so full of gen- 
 erous and noble sentiments, that it is a nobler monument of 
 her mind and heart than the rest of her works. Now the two 
 friends were united again, and enjoyed together the fine sum- 
 mer days, during which they often called to mind Prince 
 Augustus and his love. 
 
 In autumn, friends joined them, and passed the monotonous
 
 436 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 winter months with them. Among them was Baron Voigt, 
 from Altona, who read a number of German works, among 
 them Lessing's NatTian, to her. Ochlenschlager, too, arrived at 
 Coppet, and Madame de Stael had at once a room fitted up 
 for him at the chateau. 
 
 She received him in the most cordial manner, and invited 
 him to spend several weeks with her. She remarked jocosely 
 that he spoke French far better than he did at the first visit 
 which he paid her at Auberge en Ville, and she repeated to 
 him a few remarks which he had addressed to her at that time, 
 and which seemed to him now so ludicrous that he could not 
 help in joining her laughter at his expense. 
 
 Ochlenschlager, however, was not long in discovering that he 
 might use in his conversations with her the German language, 
 which she understood perfectly, but did not like to speak. Her 
 son Augustus spoke German very fluently, and so did her 
 daughter Albertine, who was now a half-grown girl. 
 
 The young Dane soon felt perfectly at home at Coppet. The 
 society there could not be better, and the comfortable elegance 
 of the life at the chfiteau pleased him exceedingly. Sismoncle 
 de Sismondi, the celebrated historian, and Count de Sabrin, 
 joined them soon after ; so that the domestic circle became the 
 more interesting and lively, the more the season compelled 
 them to remain in the house. Ochlenschlager generally was 
 quite taciturn. " C'est un arbre, #ur lequel il croit des tragedies" 
 said Sismondi, one day, about him to Madame de Stael a 
 remark with which the young poet was much pleased. Schle- 
 gel treated him coldly, perhaps, because he deemed his talents 
 as yet hardly worth noticing. He rode out every day for an 
 hour on a tame horse, in order to take exercise. Once the 
 groom wanted to give him a fiery horse, but he refused to take 
 it. Madame de Stael bantered him. Benjamin Constant then
 
 PBINCE AUGUSTUS AT COPPET. 437 
 
 offered to mount the horse, in order to convince Schlegel that it 
 was not dangerous. It was a humiliation which he gladly 
 inflicted on the German professor. 
 
 The whole company went down to the gateway to witness 
 tho occurrence, in which all took sides one way or fhe other 
 
 stant mounted the horse and galloped away. All eyes 
 ( ft lowed h im ; but scarcely had he performed a short distance 
 ua he was thrown into a wet ditch. The horse ran away 
 and returned to the stable. 
 
 Constant rejoined his friends in great confusion, and Schlegel 
 -ecewed hun with profound compassion, which sounded to hL 
 Hke tatter >rony. He went to his room in the worst possible 
 humor; the others followed him amidst laughter and jests. 
 
 oung Ochlenschlager was delighted with the genius wit 
 
 and amiability of his hostess. He had never seen a woman 
 
 er; and, with the susceptibility of his age, admired her 
 
 ^ gifts. She enjoyed his admiration, as we like a fragrant 
 
 ; for ardent admiration of human genius is the finest 
 
 blossom of a pure mind. 
 
 The grave, taciturn Northerner listened attentively whenever 
 she spoke, and was always filled with fresh surprise at the 
 Piquant and profound character of her remarks, which made 
 o agreeable a companion. Wherever she made her ap- 
 pearance, youth and beauty had to retire from the field - so re- 
 ly did her attractive conversation captivate all men 
 e was rich, she was hospitable, and, in his opinion sat 
 enthroned like a queen or a sort of fairy in her Lh ne d 
 palace, whither eminent men flocked in order to be dominated 
 >er. Her scepter was the small twig which the footman 
 d every day beside her napkin, because it was no less neces- 
 ary to her for keeping her hands in motion, than knife and 
 k were indispensable to her for taking food.
 
 438 MADAME DE STAET,. 
 
 Zacharias Werner, too, arrived quite unexpectedly one day, 
 late in autumn, with a large snuff-box in bis narrow vest pocket, 
 and with a great deal of snuff in his nostrils, and with many 
 bows. Ochlenschiager was glad that Werner epoke French 
 as imperfectly as he did, and laughed at his blunders. At the 
 same time he admired Werner's writings, although not so ar- 
 dently as Madame de Stael did, and so both of them became 
 warm friends, and made daily excursions in the environs of 
 Coppet. 
 
 One day Madame de Stael entered the room when they were 
 engaged in an animated conversation. She asked them what 
 they were speaking of. " I am scolding Werner," said Ochlen- 
 Bchlager. " I communicated the plan of my tragedy to him, 
 and he now wants to conceal the plan of his tragedy from me. 
 Is not that too bad ? Is it not unfair ? " 
 
 " Ah," she replied, gravely and reprovingly, " dest une autre 
 cJiose, wus etes encore jeune ; wus aeez besoin de wus former." 
 
 Without replying to her, Ochlenschiager quickly turned his 
 back to her and left the room. She vainly waited for his re- 
 turn. When she finally sent a servant to his room, she was in- 
 formed that he was packing his trunk in order to leave Coppet. 
 Her words had offended him. 
 
 She now went herself to him, and tried to pacify him by pro- 
 testations of her esteem and friendship. His vanity was 
 wounded. She had not yet read any of his writings, and he 
 allowed himself at last to be persuaded to remain till the arri- 
 val of his Aladdin and Hakon Jarl, so that she might acquire 
 a better appreciation and knowledge of his poetical talents. 
 He had sent for the two books, and, when the packages ar- 
 rived a few days afterward, the warm encomiums which she 
 bestowed upon him, conciliated him entirely, and he no longer 
 thought of his departure.
 
 PRINCE AUGUSTUS AT COPPET. 439 
 
 He intended to pass the winter in Italy. Madame de Stael 
 represented to him that it would be better for him to stay with 
 her and learn Italian, and then to cross the Alps imthe spring, 
 when he would be familiar with the language. We easily allow 
 ourselves to be persuaded to do that which we like to do. So 
 he gladly remained with her, and accompanied her and all her 
 guests to Geneva, where he took dancing lessons in order to 
 waltz with the fair ladies of that city. 
 
 A constant whirl of dinner and supper-parties, theatrical 
 performances and concerts, entertained them here. Madame 
 de Stael recited poetry and lectured ; and the pedantic women 
 of the republic gazed again in surprise at the brilliant comet 
 whose orbit they were unable to follow, and whose passage, 
 therefore, caused them to shake their heads. 
 
 Benjamin Constant had now at length completed his transla- 
 tion of Wallenxtein. He had imitated Racine's style and pecu- 
 liarities in arranging this tragedy, and was now anxious to learn 
 the reception with which his production would meet; for he 
 was tired of being eclipsed by Schlegel's literary celebrity; 
 and, destitute as he was of productive talents, he had to content 
 nimself with translating one of Schiller's plays. He therefore 
 appointed an evening on which he intended to read his transla- 
 tion to his friends at Geneva. 
 
 The encomiums which were bestowed on him seemed to him 
 by far too cold. He forgot that what he had written was a 
 mere translation, and that the genius of the author had en- 
 grossed the thoughts of his audience as he read the book. So 
 the applause with which the translation was received did not 
 content him, and he gazed with sullenness and dissatisfaction 
 upon the audience. 
 
 It is very disagreeable for a talented man to play a secondary 
 role by the side of a celebrated lady. At the outset of his
 
 440 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 career, Constant had created too great a sensation; he had 
 then been admired too much as an orator, to be satisfied 
 with a slight measure of incense bestowed upon him in the 
 field of literature, where he was not in his proper element. 
 The longer his friends now talked about the drama, the more 
 distinctly did he perceive that he was not the author, but 
 only the translator ; and this added greatly to his disappoint- 
 ment. 
 
 For a long time past he had been dissatisfied with his 
 position, and scarcely been able to conceal his mortification. 
 But the reading of his translation of Wallenstein caused him to 
 come to a sudden determination. 
 
 Madame de Stael had no idea of what was passing in his 
 breast. She was engaged in rehearsing a musical performance 
 which she had arranged, and did not notice his absence imme- 
 diately. The superb music which Shulz had composed to 
 the lyrical parts* of Racine's Athalie, was to enchant Ochlen- 
 schlager's ears before he left them ; for he saTd that nothing 
 moved him more profoundly than these heart-melodies of the 
 North, as he called them. She did not notice, therefore, thai 
 Constant was absent ; and when he did not make his appear 
 ance in the evening either, she thought it was owing to a whim, 
 such as often made him sullen and morose. 
 
 Occupied as she was with Ochlenschlager alone, she did not 
 even think of sending for him. When all the guests had left 
 the house, the Northern poet asked her to write a few lines in 
 his Album. She wrote as follows : 
 
 "J'introduis pour la premiere fois le Franfais dans ce Uvre; 
 mais bien que Gotlie Vait appele une langue perficte, fespere, mon 
 cher OehlenscMdger, que vous croirez d mon amitie pour vo-us et d 
 ma mve estime pour Pauteur ff Axel et Vallborg." 
 
 They then parted in the most cordial manner, and did not
 
 PRINCE AUGUSTUS AT COPPET. 441 
 
 see each other for many years afterward, until an accident 
 caused them to meet again for a short time. 
 
 When Benjamin Constant did not make his appearance on 
 the following day either, Madame de Stael sent a servant up to 
 him to inquire why he kept his room all the time ; and now 
 she was informed that he could not be found anywhere, and 
 that he had not touched his hed at all last night. 
 
 This news surprised her greatly. She revolved in her mind 
 all that had happened and had been spoken of for the last few 
 days, but she was unable to find anywhere a key to his sudden 
 disappearance, and to divine whither he might have gone. 
 
 Messengers were sent out after him in all directions, but they 
 did not find him. She wrote to Madame Recamier and to M. 
 de Montmorency in order to ask them if he had gone to them ; 
 she made inquiries in Paris, but no one was able to give her 
 any information about him. 
 
 In the meantime she returned to Coppet, and hoped that he 
 would surprise her here one clay ; but she waited in vain for his 
 re- appearance. She was deeply afflicted at his prolonged ab- 
 sence. What could have induced him to leave her in this 
 manner her who had sacrificed everything to him ! She 
 was at a loss to comprehend his conduct. 
 
 Literary employment was again her only consolation for the 
 disappearance of her old friend. It was only in devoting her- 
 self to this occupation with more zeal and energy than ever 
 before, that she found forgetfulness and tranquillity. But her 
 nights, during which her agitation made her sleepless, and 
 when no occupation diverted her thoughts from the subject 
 which she was anxious to forget, were exceedingly painful to 
 her. So she had to resort again and again to the remedy 
 which gave her a few hours of artificial repose, and slowly 
 take the poison that was to hurry her to a premature grave.
 
 442 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 Spring had meanwhile drawn to a close, and already she 
 commenced mourning for Constant as if he had died. One 
 day, however, an acquaintance told her that he had met, and 
 conversed with, M. Benjamin Constant de Rebecque, who had 
 been accompanied by a lady, on the road between Lucerne and 
 Interlachen. 
 
 Madame de Stael was utterly unprepared for this intelli- 
 gence. She felt as if something was torn in her breast, and fell 
 senseless to the ground. 
 
 When she awoke to consciousness, the outbursts of her grief 
 were so terrible, that her friends began to tremble for her life. 
 He lived while she mourned for him ; he lived and deceived 
 her ! That was more than she was able to bear. This thought 
 broke her heart 
 
 She ordered her carriage, begged Schlegel to take care of her 
 children, and set out without informing her friends whither she 
 was going, or when she would return. The fact was that she 
 did not know it herself; she had not yet fully made up her 
 mind whither to wend her way. She wanted to go in search 
 of him, no matter where he might be ; and she Avas at a loss to 
 know whither he had gone. 
 
 She took the route which the above-mentioned acquaintance 
 had indicated to her, but she did not find a trace of him. At 
 length, several days afterward, she reached Interlachen at 
 setting-in of dusk. The snow-clad summit of the Jungfrau 
 was already shrouded in clouds ; in the western horizon some 
 purple streaks were still to be seen; the air was cool, although 
 it was in midsummer ; and the place was as deserted as if no 
 strangers ever wended their way to it. 
 
 Madame de Stael wrapped herself in a warm shawl, and 
 walked alone through the streets. She was not sure that she 
 would find her faithless friend here, but something in her heart
 
 PRINCE AUGUSTUS AT COPPET. 443 
 
 made her restless ; her eyes wandered about as if in search of 
 somebody, and as if she would recognize him in every 
 passer-by, and see him step forth from behind every tree. 
 
 There was a light in a low-roofed villa which illuminated the 
 street through the open windows. Thither she wended her 
 way ; she did not know why ; whether it was a foreboding, or 
 fate. In short, an irresistible power drew her thither. 
 
 A gentleman and a lady sat opposite to each other at a table 
 in the room. They seemed to be engaged in an animated con- 
 versation. Suddenly the lady rose, approached him, leaned on 
 his shoulder, and imprinted a tender kiss on his forehead. 
 
 A shrill, piercing cry under the window startled her sud- 
 denly, so that she gave a violent start. The gentleman had 
 turned deadly pale at the sound of this voice, and glanced 
 about in terror and confusion. He then took a sudden resolu- 
 tion, and hastened out of the room. 
 
 He found Madame de Stael lying in a swoon under his 
 window. 
 
 Several persons who had heard the cry, rushed from the 
 house. The strange lady was lifted up ; and as Madame de Stael 
 used to recover immediately from such powerful emotions, so 
 she was now again in a few minutes erect and restored to 
 consciousness. 
 
 She gazed long and mournfully at Constant. " So you were 
 here, Benjamin, " she said in her deep, sonorous voice. " Here, 
 then, I was to go in search of you, and find you in such com- 
 pany ? Alas ! I had a foreboding that you would desert me so 
 perfidiously one clay ! " 
 
 " Let me escort you to your rooms, Germaine, " he replied, in 
 an undertone, deeply moved by her words. " There I will 
 explain everything to you. Pray follow me." 
 
 He offered her his arm, and, leaning on it, she walked slowly
 
 444 MADAME DE STAEI/. 
 
 to her hotel. Not a word passed between them on the way 
 thither. Both made an effort to compose themselves, and call 
 to mind that with which they might upbraid one another. 
 Constant tried to find new subterfuges with which to justify 
 Ms conduct, but it was not easy for him to do so this time. 
 
 They parted company hi a very unpleasant state of mind, at 
 an advanced hour of the night. 
 
 He felt that he could not convince or rather deceive Madame 
 de Stael. She refused to believe that Count Hardenberg had 
 requested him to accompany his niece on a trip to this water- 
 ing-place, and that he had concealed it from her, inasmuch as 
 lie had felt convinced that her jealousy would prevent her from 
 permitting him to comply with the Count's request. 
 
 But the lady whom Constant had left at the villa had like- 
 wise been greatly surprised and alarmed at this nocturnal ad- 
 venture. Upon his return to her, he called upon her to confirm 
 his statements, to avoid Madame de Stael as long as she was 
 at Interlachen, and, even if he should accompany her at her 
 departure, quietly submit to this step, and patiently await his 
 return. 
 
 She passed a sleepless night. 
 
 In the morning she was dressed long before Constant was 
 about, and on her way to Madame de Stael, without informing 
 him of her intention. She caused herself to be announced to 
 her as Madame de Rebecque, and was admitted ; for Madame 
 de Stael was no less anxious to see the strange lady, than the 
 latter was to have an interview with her. 
 
 The fair daughter of Germany stood before her, pale and 
 grave. In a voice tremulous with emotion, she begged her to 
 tell her why Constant was afraid of informing her of the rights 
 which she had in regard to him. 
 
 " Rights ! " cried Madame de Stael, turning red and pale.
 
 PRINCE AUGUSTUS AT COPPET. 445 
 
 " Rights 1 Mon Dieu" She stopped short. She felt only 
 too painfully that she had no rights to him. 
 
 " He wants me to conceal from you that I am his wife," added 
 the other. 
 
 "His wife!" exclaimed Madame de Stael. " Impossible I 
 What should I be, then I " She trembled. 
 
 "Here is the proof," said the stranger, showing her the wed- 
 ding ring. " We were married on the 5th of June." 
 
 " That is dreadful I " exclaimed Madame de Stael. " Dread- 
 ful ! How do you come to belong to him, when he has been 
 mine for many years past, and is to remain mine ? " 
 
 " You will not leave him to me ? " 
 
 " Never I What claims do you have to him ? His love ? It 
 has belonged to me for many years 1 The benediction of the 
 Church ? But I I oh, dreadful treachery 1 How could you 
 take him from me ? " 
 
 " All is clear to me now, suddenly all, all ! " said the other. 
 " His irresolution, his seeming fickleness all, all. I knew 
 him long before his eyes ever fell on you, and he was engaged 
 to marry me long before you ever heard his voice. Year after 
 year went by, and still he deferred the moment when he was to 
 belong to me. And now he comes at last, redeems his word, and 
 is about to leave me again ! I shall not submit to this dis- 
 grace. I shall rather end my life here at your feet ; with this 
 intention I came to you ; he must either be mine, or I cease 
 standing in your way." 
 
 So saying, she quickly seized a glass standing near her, threw 
 something into it, and swallowed the contents before Madame 
 de Stael was able to prevent her from so doing. 
 
 " For God's sake, what have you done ? " cried the latter in 
 dismay, and hastened to her in order to snatch the glass from 
 her hand ; but it was already too late.
 
 446 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 " You have got rid of your rival," cried the poor lady, with 
 much resignation, and sank into a chair, where she looked for 
 her speedy dissolution. 
 
 At this moment Constant rushed breathlessly into the room. 
 " What has happened here ? " he exclaimed, wildly, glancing 
 now at one, now at the other. 
 
 " Send for a doctor 1 " cried Madame de Stael, perfectly be- 
 side herself. " She has taken poison ! She is dying 1 For 
 God's sake, quick ! " 
 
 Upon hearing these words, Constant rushed away like a 
 madman. A physician arrived in a few minutes, and for- 
 tunately succeeded in saving her. The unfortunate lady was re- 
 stored to a life in which she was to enjoy but little happiness. 
 The inconstancy of her husband was an incessant source of 
 trouble to her. 
 
 Reassured and cooled down after this terrible catastrophe, 
 all three of them were in a conciliatory mood, and Madame dc 
 Stael, kind and generous as usual when her heart spoke and 
 her passion was silent, deeply pitied the poor lady, and assured 
 her of her own accord that she would not encroach upon her 
 rights, and that Constant should belong to her alone. Having 
 comforted her in this manner, and bidden Constant a concilia- 
 tory farewell, she returned alone to Coppet. 
 
 She arrived there in a sad state of mind, kissed her children, 
 and locked herself in her room. 
 
 This journey to Interlachen was an epoch in her life. A 
 mere fickleness she would have gladly forgiven, for she knew 
 the human heart, and was aware that even the strongest will is 
 not always able to regulate its pulsations. This was the reason 
 why she did not count upon any attachment which was not 
 strengthened by the voice of duty. 
 
 But treachery treachery toward her most sacred feelings
 
 PRINCE AUGUSTUS AT COPPET. 
 
 treachery where she looked for fidelity-treachery where she 
 had a right to expect sincere and durable friendship-that was 
 too bitter a disappointment. She was not equal to this trial. 
 It violently shook her faith in human nature. 
 
 And yet, despite his unworthy conduct, she could neither 
 hate nor despise the man who had sinned against her in this 
 
 manner. 
 
 She knew his character; she knew that he suffered mosi 
 consequence of his treachery; she pitied him sincerely, and 
 lamented his weakness. 
 
 With deceit in his heart, he had met her so many years witl 
 an open forehead, and she had trusted him! She herself was 
 so candid, how could she suspect that he was false ? 
 
 She did not want to see him any more. "God! God! 
 Grant me forgetfulness ! " she prayed, in order to get rid of her 
 
 poignant grief. 
 
 Suddenly there was a low knocking at her door. She did 
 not hear it. It was repeated again and again. It was at an 
 unseasonable hour of the night. It was past midnight. At 
 last she opened the door with her own hand. 
 
 Benjamin Constant, deadly pale and perfectly beside him elf, 
 
 stood before her. 
 "Is it you, Benjamin?" exclaimed Madame de I 
 
 dismay. 
 
 He sank at her feet. 
 
 " Forgive me, or I shall die here. Be my friend again, or I 
 have lived enough," he cried, passionately. 
 
 "For God's sake, do not trouble me any more," exclaimed 
 Madame de Stael, angrily. " I have suffered enough through 
 you. Your sight re-awakens my whole grief. Stay now with 
 her to whom duty attaches yflu." 
 
 " I shall not do so unless you forgive me, Germaine. I shall
 
 448 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 not do so without having heard from you a word comforting 
 me, and causing me to appear less hateful to myself. I shall 
 not do so without receiving from you a glance restoring my 
 courage and tranquillity to me. I shall remain on my knees 
 before you, Germaine, until your hand lifts me up ; and I shall 
 die here, if you turn from me inexorably 1 " 
 . " I do not hate you, Constant," said Madame de Stael, weep- 
 ing gently. " I do not shut my door against you. I only want 
 to forget how deeply you have offended me ; and then then 
 I shall hold out my hand to you, and be reconciled to you." 
 
 She burst into loud sobs, and buried her face in her hands. 
 Constant crept close up to her, pressed the hem of her dre.ss to 
 his lips, and called her by a thousand fond names, shedding 
 tears all the time. 
 
 " Go now ! " she said, imploringly. " I can say no more. I 
 forgive you," she added in a low voice. 
 
 " God be praised ! " he cried, as if animated with fresh hope, 
 kissed her feet, and rushed out of the room. She gazed after 
 him. Had it been an apparition, or had she really seen him ?
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE SICK HERO. 
 
 A Totnsro man, descended from a noble family, had excited 
 the liveliest interest among the ladies of Geneva, by the fame 
 of his heroic deeds, the contrast of his age with his tottering 
 step, the pale complexion of his prepossesStog face, and his 
 feeble health. 
 
 Wounds which he had received in the Spanish war threat- 
 ened him with a premature death. They had confined him to 
 his bed for a long time, and he had not risen from it until quite 
 recently, with a faint hope of ultimate recovery. 
 
 Madame de Stael listened sympathetically to the account of 
 his fate and of his present sufferings. She asked herself if he 
 would exchange his physical pain for the trials imposed upon 
 her heart, and a low voice hi her breast whispered to her that, 
 compared to her, he was still the happier of the two. Admi- 
 ration, praise, and sympathies were bestowed upon young 
 Rocca ; but no one suspected her sufferings ; only the silent 
 midnight hour was the confident of her complaints. 
 
 To a woman it is humiliating to be betrayed and deserted ; 
 and the compassion to which she is entitled, wounds her 
 heart. 
 
 She could forgive Constant's offense, but not forget it; her 
 heart continued bleeding. 
 
 One day, when she was walking out alone, she saw the sick 
 young man who attracted so much attention, pacing up and
 
 450 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 down in the sun. She stood still and looked thoughtfully 
 after him. 
 
 " He is very young yet," she murmured to herself, her eyes 
 filling with teai-s, "and is already to renounce the joys of 
 life." 
 
 When he turned now, and was about to pass her again, she 
 laid her hand on his arm, looked at him compassionately with 
 her fine dark eyes, and said gently, in her deep, sonorous 
 voice: 
 
 " Hope, hope on, poor sufferer ; God is great. Your youth 
 may surmount a great deal ; your wounds will heal, and will 
 then be proud ojpaments. But when the heart is wounded in 
 its inmost depth, time brings no relief, and all is irretrievably 
 lost Console yourself with the thought that there are still 
 greater sufferings than those which weigh you down." 
 
 So saying, she turned from him and went on her way ; but 
 the young patient remained standing, as if riveted to the spot, 
 and gazed after her until she had disappeared from his view. 
 
 " It was her," said a voice in his breast ; " it could be no one 
 but her ; she alone is able to utter such words, and cast such 
 glances on me." 
 
 Her words still vibrated on his ear. Waking, dreaming, he 
 heard and saw her alone. She engrossed all his thoughts. All 
 he wished for, was to meet her again ; all he hoped for, was to 
 hear her voice once more, and to bask again in the sunshine of 
 her eyes, which had rested on him so sorrowfully and sympa- 
 thetically. 
 
 " But," he was asked, " what could you, a poor invalid, be to 
 her? Of what could you talk with her? She takes no inter- 
 est in anything but politics and literature; what could you 
 offer to this highly intellectual and cultivated lady ? " 
 
 "A heart beating warmly for her."
 
 THE SICK HERO. 451 
 
 " Who tells you that she cares for that heart ? " 
 
 " She is unhappy, and has need of the consolation of love. 
 Je Vaimerai tettemeni qu'ettejinirapar m'Spouser," replied Rocca, 
 half angry at the obstacles thrown in his way. 
 
 His friends laughed at his presumption, and informed Mad- 
 ame de Stael of what the young invalid had said in regard to 
 her. 
 
 She listened to them mournfully. If it should comfort his 
 oppressed soul, why should this consolation not be granted to 
 him ? She herself was so unhappy, so weary of suffering 
 her life was so lonely, so monotonous, and she felt how a per- 
 son in such moments of loneliness might grasp at a straw. 
 
 " We have something in common both of us are sufferers," 
 she replied, and sent word to him that she would be glad to see 
 him. 
 
 The young officer made his appearance, trembling with hap- 
 piness. Fresh life coursed through his veins since he saw her ; 
 his pulse beat more impetuously, and he felt that he must 
 recover. 
 
 Madame de Stael perceived this impression with heartfelt 
 joy. "Happiness is such a rare flower," she said; "may it 
 bloom to him through me ! " 
 
 She now continued her work on Germany with fresh courage. 
 Since a new flame warmed her heart, she was able to work 
 again, and she looked forward to the completion of her book 
 toward the close of the winter. 
 
 In order to superintend the publication of the work, she 
 wished again to move closer to Paris, and pass beyond the 
 bounds of the forty leagues which had been set to her. A 
 dangerous step ! 
 
 So she repaired to France in the spring of 1810, and took up 
 her abode in the ancient chateau of Chauinont-sur-Lojre, which
 
 452 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 Cardinal d'Amboise, Diana cle Poitiers, Catherine cle Medici, 
 and Nostradamus had inhabited before her. The present 
 owner of this romantic building was in America, and upon 
 his return she removed to the neighboring estate of Fosse, 
 which offered to her plenty of room, but very little comfort 
 beside. 
 
 Madame Recarnier visited her here, and cheered her solitude 
 by her warm friendship. As soon as Madame de Stael set foot 
 on French soil, her state of mind underwent a marked change. 
 The very air seemed to produce a salutary effect on her ; or 
 was it only the thought that she was again hi her native 
 country, and no longer in exile, which cheered her so visibly ? 
 
 The environs of Fosse were monotonous, and it was so far 
 from Paris that her Parisian friends could visit her but very 
 rarely. So she was confined to her domestic circle ; she and 
 her companions amused themselves by music and singing ; 
 Madame Recamier played on the harp, an Italian music-teacher 
 on the guitar, and Madame de Stael and her daughter sung, 
 often in the presence of the whole population of the village. 
 
 Every now and then she made secret trips to Paris, her 
 negotiations with her publisher rendering personal interviews 
 with him almost indispensable. 
 
 One day, at the very moment when her carriage drove up to 
 his door, she was suddenly met by Benjamin Constant. Joy 
 and surprise animated his glance, while he tried to read in her 
 face what reception he would meet with at her hands. 
 
 Madame de Stael held out to him her hand with her amiable 
 frankness. " I hope you are happy, " she said ; " that is mora 
 important than anything else." 
 
 "Without you? Never!" he exclaimed, passionately. "As 
 the flower has need of the sun, so I have need of the light of 
 your eyes, and of the flashes of your genius, to enjoy my life,
 
 THE SICK HERO. 453 
 
 and arouse my soul to energetic action. I can no longer live 
 
 without you." 
 
 " And your wife ? " 
 
 " She is here, and knows that I am in search of you. " 
 
 He followed her into the house. He told her in a desperate 
 tone that he would throw himself under the wheels of her 
 carriage if she refused him permission to accompany her. So 
 she yielded at last 
 
 " You are foolish," she said ; " but how am I to prevent you 
 from following me ? Comment aefdcher contre dautres que ceux 
 qiCon aime ? " 
 
 " That is a harsh remark ! " exclaimed Benjamin Constant, 
 looking at her in surprise. 
 
 " But, I hope, it is true; at all events, if it is not, it deserves 
 to be true, " she replied. 
 
 After attending to her business, she wished to pay a visit to 
 Henrietta Mendelssohn, who was an intimate friend of Schle- 
 gel; and in whom she, therefore, took the liveliest interest. 
 Henrietta Mendelssohn lived in a villa on the Richter, where 
 she educated a number of little girls belonging to the most 
 aristocratic families. Accompanied by Constant, she now re- 
 paired to this quiet, shady villa, to pass a few hours with the 
 talented and interesting teacher. 
 
 This secluded life, the resignation with which she performed 
 her task, her gentleness and modesty, made a singular im- 
 pression on a lady whose whole nature had always longed for 
 intercourse with the outer world, and who, despite all her long- 
 ing for happiness, had never been able to reach it. She was 
 not very talkative to-day. She sat absorbed in grave and 
 gloomy thoughts about her immediate future. 
 
 Constant did all he could to cheer her up. But his conversa- 
 tion etonnante was wasted on this occasion.
 
 454 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 When they left the villa, he urged her to tell him what de- 
 pressed her so much. 
 
 " How can you ask that question," she said, reproachfully. 
 "I have no home on earth. I do not belong anywhere; and 
 no one belongs to me. No one shares my lot, and bears pros- 
 perity and adversity with me. I am dying of the loneliness 
 of my heart." 
 
 She intended to bid him farewell, but he did not permit it. 
 Nothing, he said, could prevent him from accompanying her, 
 returning with her to Fosse, and spending there some time 
 with her. She accepted this offer without manifesting any joy, 
 and, in so doing, yielded only to his pressing supplication. 
 
 On the 23d of September she corrected the last proof-sheet 
 of her work on Germany. .With heartfelt joy she added to it 
 the words, " The End;" so little did she anticipate the new 
 persecutions which it was to occasion to her. She cheerfully 
 drew up a list of one hundred persons to whom she intended 
 to send it, forwarded it to her publisher, and then went to the 
 estate of M. de Montmorency, situated five miles from Blois. 
 Overjoyed as she was to meet this dear friend of hers again, 
 she walked with him in the shade of the magnificent forest 
 surrounding his chateau, enjoyed the splendid weather, lin- 
 gered at the vestiges of historical events, in which the place 
 abounded, owing to the battle of Fretteval, between Philip Au- 
 gustus and Richard the Lion-hearted, and yielded to the gen- 
 tle peace and tranquillity with which the scenery filled her 
 heart. 
 
 When they returned to the chateau, she went to her room 
 aud wrote to Bonaparte : 
 
 " Sire : I take the liberty of sending my work on Germany 
 to your majesty. If you will take the trouble to read it, I be- 
 lieve you will find that it is the production of a thoughtful
 
 THE SICK HEKO. 455 
 
 mind, matured by time. Sire, twelve years have elapsed since 
 I have seen your majesty, and am in exile. Twelve years of 
 adversity chastens every character, and fate teaches resigna- 
 tion to those who suffer. 
 
 " On the eve of embarking for England, I beg your majesty 
 to grant me an interview of half an hour. I believe I am able 
 to communicate to you matters of interest to you, and for this 
 reason I pray you to grant me this favor previous to my de- 
 parture. 
 
 " In this letter I shall confine myself to one point, namely, 
 a statement of the reasons which induce me to leave the con- 
 tinent in case your majesty should not permit me to live at a 
 villa so close to Paris that my children might remain with me 
 there. 
 
 " The displeasure of your majesty is so injurious to those 
 who incur it, that I cannot make a step in Europe without 
 feeling its effects. Some are fearful of compromising them- 
 selves by seeing me; others consider themselves Romans in 
 disregarding these fears. The simplest social relations become 
 services which a proud mind cannot accept. 
 
 " Among my friends are some who have shared my fate 
 with incredible magnanimity ; but I have also seen the most 
 ardent affections recoil from the necessity of living with me in 
 the solitude ; and for eight years past my life has been divided 
 between the fear of imposing sacrifices, and the grief to see 
 them made. 
 
 " It is, perhaps, silly of me to give the master of the world a 
 detailed account of my impressions ; buj that which subjected 
 the world to you, Sire, was your genius, which penetrates and 
 dominates everything. In your wonderful knowledge of hu- 
 man nature, your majesty understands both its highest and 
 most delicate strings.
 
 456 MADAME BE STAEL. 
 
 "My sons have no prospects of a brilliant career; my 
 daughter has reached her thirteenth year ; in a few years she 
 will preside over a household of her own ; it would be selfish 
 in me to compel her to pass her youth at the obscure places to 
 which I am exiled. So I should have to part with her, too. 
 
 " Such a life, therefore, is intolerable, and I am unable to 
 find any relief on the continent. What city could I select 
 where the displeasure of your majesty would not be an insur- 
 mountable obstacle both to the success of my children, and to 
 my personal tranquillity ? 
 
 " Your majesty is, perhaps, not aware of the anxiety with 
 which most of your functionaries look upon exiles. I could 
 communicate to you in regard to this point details which must 
 certainly be contrary to your instructions. 
 
 " Your majesty has been told that I long to return to Paris 
 for the sake of the Museum and of Talma ; this is a pleasant joke 
 on exile that is to say, the calamity which Cicero and Boling- 
 broke have pronounced the most intolerable of all ; but if I 
 love the masterpieces of art, for which France is indebted to 
 the conquests of your majesty if I love those beautiful trage- 
 dies in which the struggles of heroism are portrayed, can you 
 find fault with me for it, Sire ? 
 
 " The happiness of men depends on the character of their 
 individual qualities ; and if heaven has endowed me with 
 talents, do I not possess an imagination which requires the 
 enjoyment of the fine arts and of dramatic literature ? 
 
 " So many persons ask of your majesty all sorts of real 
 benefits, why should I blush to ask of you friendship, poesy, 
 music, paintings, the whole ideal world, which I may enjoy 
 without detracting from the reverence due to the sovereign of 
 France ? " 
 
 The Emperor Napoleon frequently read at the breakfast-table
 
 THE SICK HERO. 457 
 
 novels or other literary productions of the day ; and all books 
 that displeased him, he instantly flung into the fire-place by his 
 side ; such was also the fate of the work on Germany, which 
 Madame de Stael had sent him. * Scarcely had he read half 
 an hour in it, when he threw it into the flames ; and, as it 
 blazed up, he ordered the police to hasten to the publisher and 
 destroy the whole edition In the same manner; at the same 
 time, the authoress was to be informed that she must leave 
 France in the course of three days. Such was the answer to 
 her mild and conciliatory letter. 
 
 Her friends hardly dared to inform her of the new blow that 
 had befallen her. Finally, M. de Montmorency broke the 
 dreadful news to her as delicately as possible. She burst into 
 bitter tears. 
 
 Her last hope was gone. She gave way to her despair. 
 What remained to her now ? 
 
 She returned to Fosse, where gensd'armes had already sur- 
 rounded her house. They were to seize even her manuscript, 
 in order to destroy every vestige of her work. Vain endeavor ! 
 She gave them an imperfect copy, and saved the whole manu- 
 script. 
 
 Whither was she now to wend her way but to America, the 
 land of liberty? Ships were ready to set sail for the New 
 World. But few days of preparation were necessary, and she 
 asked permission to remain in France until she was ready to 
 embark. The short delay was granted to her, but at the same 
 time the ports where she would be permitted to embark were 
 named to her, and thus the Government thwarted her intention 
 to go to America by way of England. Without landing in 
 England, and meeting her friends who lived there, she had 
 not the courage to embark for the other hemisphere ; and as 
 
 * "Memoirs of Constant, Napoleon's Valet-de-Chambre." Vol. IV. 
 20
 
 458 MADAME DE STAEI,. 
 
 she had to choose between America and Coppet, she finally de- 
 cided in favor of the latter. 
 
 She passed the winter in a mournful state of mind. Even 
 literary employment was wanting to her, inasmuch as she had 
 not the heart to write anything after the fate which had be- 
 fallen her last work. Her strength was paralyzed, the wings 
 of her mind drooped, her nights were sleepless, and the only 
 remedy by which she was able to alleviate her sufferings and 
 to give a seeming slumber to her tearful eyes, was the constant 
 use of opium. Blow after blow struck her now, and bowed 
 her deeper and deeper. 
 
 In the first place, Schlegel was ordered to leave Switzerland, 
 because the Emperor disapproved of his views on literature, 
 and was especially angry with him for having preferred the 
 Phaedra of Euripides to that of Racine. 
 
 This was ridiculous ; but what other reason could be alleged, 
 as long as the true one his attachment to Madame de Stael's 
 family had to be concealed ? So she had to part with the 
 friend to whose presence she had been accustomed for eight 
 years past ; slie had to give him up at a moment when his loss 
 was doubly painful to her. 
 
 Next, it was Mathieu de Montmorency's turn. He was not 
 the man to desert his friend in the days of her adversity ; he had 
 already repeatedly spent some time with her ; he now hastened 
 again to Coppet, and was exiled in consequence. Madame de 
 Stael was in despair at the punishment inflicted on her gen- 
 erous friend. She uttered piercing cries of grief, and refused 
 to be comforted. She resorted again to strong doses of opium, 
 in order to allay the gnawing pain of her thoughts, and obtain 
 momentary forgetful ness. 
 
 When she awoke to consciousness, M. de Montmorency tried 
 to impart to her the tranquillity which he acquired by seeing
 
 THE SICK HERO. 45 'J 
 
 the hand of God in all events ; but prayer proved ineffectual 
 in healing the wounds of her heart. The thought that a friend 
 had to suffer for her sake, was intolerable to her, and rendered 
 life itself burdensome to her. 
 
 A letter from Madame Recamier, announcing her speedy ar- 
 rival at Coppet, rilled her, not with joy, but with terror. 
 What if she should likewise incur the Emperor's displeasure 
 by this act of friendship ? 
 
 Upon her arrival, Madame de Stael implored her not to 
 remain at Coppet. Vain endeavor ! Her beautiful friend re- 
 fused to pass her door, and she received Madame Recamier with 
 streaming tears, and fearful of the consequences in which this 
 step might involve the beautiful lady, in the walls of thia 
 chateau, where her arrival had so often been greeted with 
 heartfelt joy. 
 
 Already, early next morning, Madame Recamier left Cop- 
 pet again, but her speedy departure was of no avail ; she was 
 banished from Paris. 
 
 " Madame de Stael," said the Prefect of Geneva, " leads an 
 agreeable life at her home; her friends and acquaintances 
 come from distant points to visit her, and the Emperor is de- 
 termined not to suffer this any longer." 
 
 She had never published a word of praise in regard to Na- 
 poleon ; that was her crime. She would have even now re- 
 stored liberty to herself and her friends by bestowing encomi- 
 ums on the Emperor ; but she refused to do so. 
 
 It was suggested to her to celebrate at least the birth of the 
 King of Rome, but she declined acting upon this suggestion, 
 too, saying she did not know what to say about it, except that 
 she wished the little King, with all her heart, a good wet- 
 nurse. 
 Napoleon was intent on fovcing her to undergo this humilia-
 
 460 . MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 tion, and her persistent refusals incited him to fresh persecu- 
 tions. The world bowed to him, and this woman dared to bid 
 him defiance ! More friends of hers were exiled, and all who 
 approached her incurred the displeasure of the Emperor. " He 
 who is not for me," he said, "is against me; he who visits 
 Madame de Stael is my enemy." Gensd'armes watched the 
 long alley leading to Coppet ; they stopped all guests, and took 
 down their names. Finally no one could venture any longer 
 to go to her, and she looked forward to the time when she 
 would be entirely alone with her children a prisoner in her 
 chateau. Her imagination depicted to her the most frightful 
 calamities. She fancied that her children, too, would be taken 
 from her, and that she would at last suffer the fate of Mary 
 Stuart. She felt that she must flee, and was determined to do 
 so ; but whither ? 
 
 At this trying time, the gloom of which was heightened by 
 her passionate temperament, which knew no resignation, there 
 remained to her but one source from which she drew consolation ; 
 it was the passionate love of the pale, sick Rocca, who was 
 bent from the very first on compelling her, by the ardor of his 
 attachment, to bestow her affections on him. No dangers de- 
 terred him from staying with her ; he was determined to re- 
 main, even though all should flee her ; and he pledged himself 
 to share her lot, even though it should be the scaffold. Upon 
 hearing such protestations, she shook her head mournfully. 
 
 " You are determined to do what you cannot do," she said; 
 "you must succumb to force; every hour, every minute, can 
 bring you the order to leave me for ever ; and what then ? " 
 
 " Give me the right to stay with yon," he cried, imploringly. 
 " Enable me to meet the tyrant's agents at the moment of dan 
 ger, with the letter of a law which imposes on me the duty to 
 stand by your side as a protector in adversity and death."
 
 THE SICK HEKO. 401 
 
 She understood him, and, surprised at the proposal, was 
 silent But the anxiety caused by her perilous position, the 
 sense of loneliness which had weighed her down for so many 
 years, and the desire to be loved, which became more and 
 more intense since she had been compelled to part with all her 
 friends, finally induced her to yield to his pressing supplica- 
 tions. This led to new embarrassments and many unpleasant 
 conflicts ; but she had found a friend upon whom she could 
 count in an emergency. This conviction did her good, and de- 
 termined her to go to England, though by a circuitous route, 
 passing through none of the States friendly to Napoleon. 
 
 Madame de Stael to Madame Eecamier. 
 
 " I bid you farewell, dear angel of my life, with all the ten- 
 derness of which my heart is capable. I recommend Augustus 
 to you ; may he see you and meet me again ! You are a 
 heavenly creature. Had I lived near you, I should have been 
 only too happy ; but fate carries me away. Adieu." 
 
 With these lines, she took leave of her friend, whom she was 
 not to meet again until during the Restoration.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE FLIGHT. 
 
 MADAME DE STAEL hastened from land to land, from city to 
 city, without getting rid of her despondency. Her journey 
 led her by way of Vienna to Moscow ; she passed through 
 regions entirely foreign to her, and almost impassahle. She 
 visited the ancient city of the Czars, and the brilliant St. Peters- 
 burg; everywhere she met with the most cordial reception, 
 and her genius created here, too, a great sensation ; but what 
 escaped further and further from her, was tranquillity and 
 happiness. 
 
 The exile and fugitive now bore in her breast a worm gnaw- 
 ing at her heart. For the first time of her life she kept some- 
 thing secret ; she concealed her emotions and a step which she 
 had taken. She had the utmost difficulty in doing so ; and it 
 was only the thought of the illustrious name she bore, that 
 caused her to impose this sacrifice on her ambition. 
 
 She was accompanied by her full-grown daughter, from 
 whom she wished to conceal her union with Rocca. 
 
 A son who had reached the age of manhood, sat opposite to 
 her. How could she have confessed to him that her longing 
 for love, for the happiness of a union with a beloved husband, 
 had induced her to bestow her hand upon a young man who 
 was not even on a footing of equality with her as far as rank 
 and social position were concerned ? 
 
 While she was thus compelled to carefully watch over her
 
 THE FLIGHT. 
 
 463 
 
 words, nay, over the expression of her face, lest she should 
 betray her secret, her eyes perceived in the distance the pro- 
 gress of the French armies, which almost followed in h 
 footsteps, and filled her here, too, with uneasiness, so that she 
 was at a loss to know whether she should go from Moscow to 
 Constantinople, or to St. Petersburg. 
 
 Her solicitude for her daughter caused her to go to St Peters- 
 burg, and she left behind the city of the Czars, which was abou 
 to be laid in ashes. 
 
 At St Petersburg, too, she stayed but a short time. She c 
 not gaze but mournfully upon this fast improving city ; for her 
 imagination depicted it to her devastated by French arms, and 
 by the horrors of a war for which France paid by far too dearly 
 with the lives of her sons. 
 
 Sweden, the native country of her husband, offered 
 more tranquil and secure asylum; and so she hastened, after a 
 two weeks' sojourn, from St. Petersburg to Stockholm, whe 
 8 he felt safe again for the first time in many months. 
 
 She was intimately acquainted with Bernadotte. She shared 
 his love of France, and deplored with him the misfortunes 
 which her country, under the usurper's scepter, had brought 
 upon Europe. Her heart bled at the disasters of the French 
 army, whose wretched remnants, a prey to the most horrible 
 Bufferings, were now fleeing back to their native country. 
 
 Here, in Stockholm, she wrote her easay on Suicide, which 
 she dedicated to the Crown Prince of Sweden. 
 
 In the spring of 1813 she went to England, just after the 
 armistice had been concluded between Napoleon and the Allied 
 Powers. The Emperor was in Dresden ; he was still able, to re- 
 main the sovereign of France, and rule over territories extend- 
 ing to the Rhine, and embracing the kingdom of Italy. It was 
 doubtful, however, if England would accede to such a treaty.
 
 4G4 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 Madame de Stael landed in June on the green shores of Albion. 
 She rode from Harwich to London, a distance of seventy miles, 
 as through aland of promise; gentle heights, alternated with 
 fertile plains, in which were to be seen, along the whole road, 
 villa after villa, surrounded by magnificent gardens and parks. 
 Everything on which her eyes fell, indicated prosperity. No- 
 where was to be seen a hovel of wretchedness, or a figure dressed 
 in rags ; the very cattle in the fields shared this general pros- 
 perity. And yet the French journals had asserted, again and 
 again, that that country, weighed down as it was by its public 
 debt, was destitute of the elements of vitality. 
 
 Madame de Stael had always been an ardent admirer of the 
 English constitution, and, during her sojourn in that country, 
 she learned to attach a still higher value to it. She familiarized 
 herself with all public institutions ; she attended the sessions of 
 the courts ; she listened to the proceedings of Parliament ; and 
 all that she heard and saw, added to her admiration of the coun- 
 try and its inhabitants. She called the English constitution un 
 beau monument de Vordre social, which Providence had vouch- 
 safed to Great Britain, that other nations might not only 
 admire, but also imitate it. 
 
 Public opinion is all-powerful in England; it is the real 
 ruler of the country. Hence, popularity is the goal to which 
 everybody aspires, and emulation often produces the most pro- 
 digious strength. The enthusiasm with which a whole people 
 greeted the deed of an individual, the thundering applause of 
 the multitudes, the cheers of thousands upon thousands, de- 
 lighted Madame de Stael. The funeral of Nelson, and the re- 
 ception of Wellington, seemed to her the ideal of popular ap- 
 plause bestowed upon glory. 
 
 "Ah ! quelle enivrante jouissance que celU do la popularite ! " 
 ehe exclaimed, believing that there was no greater happiness
 
 THE FLIGHT. 465 
 
 than that of receiving such applause. She met with a brilliant 
 reception. Her genius was ardently admired, and no one here 
 took umbrage at the interest which she took in politics, 
 women of England have always paid attention to that whi 
 en-rossed the thoughts of the men, so that Madame de S 
 was here in her proper element. She was distinguished by tl 
 women, esteemed by the men, and not a voice was raised 
 charge her with unfeminine conduct. 
 
 Even Schlegel had formerly often complained that too muc 
 attention was devoted to politics in her **, while he took ir 
 terest in nothing but literature. She therefore regretted 
 he had remained with Bernadotte, in Stockholm, and did not 
 witness her triumph in England, which would have convm 
 him that he had been mistaken. 
 
 However, scarcely had her soul derived fresh elasticity and 
 vitality from these cheering impressions, when a new and 
 crushing blow befell her. Her second son, who had remained 
 in Sweden, was killed there in a duel. She loved her children 
 dearly and the destruction of such a young and promising lite, 
 filled her with despair. As usual, she was unable to bear t 
 cruel bereavement with fortitude; and to soothe her grief, si 
 resorted again to opium. 
 
 On the 31st of March, the Allies had made their entry into 
 Paris the Emperor of Russia and the King of Prussia heading 
 the columns of their troops. Madame de Stael was now at 1 
 erty to return to her native country, on whose soil she was 1 
 set foot in a mournful state of mind, and amidst sadly alte 
 circumstances. 
 
 She had profited by her sojourn in England to publish her 
 work on Germany, the manuscript of which she had 1 
 with her iVom Coppet. Amidst the clang of arms, it could not 
 attract the attention which was afterward bestowed upoi 
 20*
 
 406 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 and for the time being, she had to content herself with the 
 satisfaction of having saved it. 
 
 She landed at Calais. For ten years she had been exiled 
 from this soil for ten long years. She joyfully set foot on the 
 French shore, and her heart throbbed more rapidly at the 
 thought that she was now again at home, and that she had spent, 
 and might spend yet, so many happy days in this country. She 
 was again animated with bright hopes. 
 
 But painful impressions were soon to lessen this first flush of 
 
 joy- 
 Prussian uniforms met her eyes as soon as she had landed, 
 and the town itself was occupied by foreign troops. She 
 grieved deeply at this state of affairs. Although the invaders 
 had humiliated her personal enemy, the disgrace of her country 
 prevented her from gloating over his misfortunes. She deeply 
 lamented the fate of France, and said that only a foreign tyrant 
 could have exposed her to calamities to which her native 
 rulers, no matter how deplorable their weakness might have 
 been, would never have subjected her. 
 
 Her heart weighed down by such thoughts, she continued 
 her journey. The nearer she came to Paris, the more painful 
 grew her emotions at the sight of the vast masses of troops 
 from all countries of Europe, which were assembled in the en- 
 virons of the capital. They were encamped around the church 
 of St. Denis, where the ashes of the French Kings reposed, 
 and desecrated this hallowed soil by singing their native hymns 
 on the grave of St. Louis. 
 
 At last she reached the gates of Paris. But was she awake, 
 or had a dismal dream captivated her reason? Such was the 
 question which she asked herself as she rode through the streets 
 of the city, where she saw so many foreigners, as if France had 
 ceased to exist. The Louvre and the Tuileries were occupied
 
 THE PLIGHT. 467 
 
 by Prussian soldiers, and she had to suffer the humiliation of 
 submitting to the decrees and orders of foreigners. 
 
 " Tai un chagrin rongeur sur cette France, que faime plus qw 
 jamais" she had said in exile. " Je sens distinctement que je ne 
 puts mvre sans celte France." 
 
 And now she had returned to France and to Paris, and 
 sighed at the thought that it did not offer her what she had ex- 
 pected to find there ; for she was too ardent a patriot to be in- 
 sensible to the humiliations which her country was compelled 
 to undergo. 
 
 In St. Petersburg, Madame de Stael had repeatedly conversed 
 with the Emperor Alexander. She was glad to meet him again 
 in Paris, and, still engrossed as she was with admiration of the 
 English constitution, she told him that she congratulated his 
 subjects on being governed by him so well without such a 
 fundamental law. He gave her the well-known answer: 
 
 " Je ne suis qu'un accident keureux, Madame." 
 
 She now looked around for her old friends, the companions 
 of better and happier days. What had become of all of them ? 
 
 Benjamin Constant had quietly lived at GOttingen, while 
 she had traveled through the world ; he had collected there, 
 materials for his great work on the religions of the nations. 
 Since he had been unable to accompany Madame de Stael, whose 
 wonderful genius attracted him again and again with magic 
 force whenever he thought he had emancipated himself from 
 her influence ; since he had been compelled to part with her, 
 the sweet joys of his domestic life had contented him, and he 
 passed his days in cheerful intercourse with the distinguished 
 men, such as Villers, Goerres, Kreutzer, and Heyne, whom he 
 met in the small university town. 
 
 Here he wrote, in the midst of the remnants of the grand 
 army of the poor mutilated soldiers who passed through the
 
 468 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 quiet town after the disasters of the Russian campaign, and 
 amidst the booming of the cannon of Bautzen and Leipzig, 
 his famous book, U Esprit de Conquete et de F Usurpation, which 
 created the greatest sensation at that period. 
 
 Of Madame de Stael he had received no other news than 
 such as the newspapers contained; for the governments did not 
 respect the secrets of the mails ; her letters were opened ; and as 
 she was well aware of it, she took good care not to write to 
 her intimate friends. 
 
 Besides, her relations with Rocca had widened the gulf be- 
 tween her and Constant. She was unwilling to confess to the 
 latter that she had adopted the obscure and sick young man as 
 her protector and friend ; she was clear-sighted enough to per- 
 ceive the humiliating side of this union, and she was afraid 
 lest Constant should discover in her letters what she wished to 
 conceal from him. 
 
 No sooner had Benjamin Constant heard that she was about 
 to return to Paris, than he left GSttingen, hastened to Coppet, 
 where he joined her eldest son, Augustus, and went with him, 
 in Bernadotte's suite, by way of Brussels to Paris. 
 
 A few days after his arrival, he published in the Journal des 
 DebaU of April 21, 1814, an article on the Restoration, whose 
 leading idea was the neutrality of the royal power, and by 
 which he laid the foundations of the new parliamentary oppo- 
 sition. 
 
 A new field now opened to his activity ; a new life dawned 
 upon him ; his enthusiasm awoke, and his writings and 
 speeches bore witness to the ardor with which he glowed for 
 the glory and honor of France. In this frame of mind he ar- 
 rived one morning, at the house of Madame de Stael, who was 
 engaged in her toilet, and had her hair dressed at that moment. 
 
 She met him in deep emotion.
 
 THE FLIGHT. 469 
 
 His appearance had undergone a marked change since they 
 had last seen each other ; nor had she remained the same. Al- 
 though time had dealt more gently with her than with him, 
 she had inwardly grown much older than he. 
 
 M. de Rebecque was now forty-seven years old ; so he was 
 at the height of his physical and intellectual strength. His 
 head was bald, his hair gray ; and his eyes, which had once 
 looked so bright and hopeful, were deeply buried in their 
 sockets. Only his enthusiasm had not left him, and with it ho 
 hopefully looked forward to the new era which he thought was 
 dawning upon France ; in this point he and Madame de Stael 
 agreed once again before life parted them for evermore. 
 
 She now presented to him the pale, grave Rocca, of whose 
 existence Benjamin Constant knew nothing. The sick young 
 man cast on him a searching glance, which Constant met 
 in the same spirit; but neither of them uttered his secret 
 thoughts. 
 
 Madame de Stael met M. de Montmorency, too, in Paris, 
 where he had lived for some time past under the surveillance 
 of the police. Their friendship remained as cordial as ever, 
 though their political views differed more and more. Mont- 
 morency shortly after wnt to Ghent, in order to lay the wishes 
 of the Royalists before Louis the Eighteenth. Madame de Stael, 
 on her part, was still an ardent lover of liberty, and advocated 
 her political principles with as much zeal and eloquence as 
 before. 
 
 Madame Recamier had traveled abroad since Napoleon had 
 exiled her, and she had not yet returned to Paris. Madame de 
 Stael wrote to her: 
 
 " PABIS, May 20, 1814 
 
 " I am ashamed to be without you in Paris, dear angel of my 
 life. Inform me of your plans. Shall I meet you at Coppet,
 
 470 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 where I intend to spend four months ? After so many suffer- 
 ings, I build my sweetest hopes on you." 
 
 Narbonne was the only intimate friend whom she was not to 
 meet again. Having entered the service of Napoleon some 
 time ago, he had first been appointed Governor of Raab, and in 
 1813 he had died of typhoid fever at Torgau. 
 
 The Restoration meanwhile progressed very rapidly, and 
 Madame de Stael dreamed afresh of u constitutional kingdom. 
 Although she was in feeble health, she yielded to these hopes 
 with all her ardent zeal, while Benjamin Constant earnestly 
 warned her against overtaxing her failing strength. His activ- 
 ity as a journalist was perfectly incredible, and his energy and 
 perseverance increased with the obstacles which he had to sur- 
 mount
 
 CHAPTER XVIL 
 
 THE EAGLE AT THE TOTLERIES. 
 
 MADAME DE STAEL had returned in autumn, after a brief 
 sojourn at Coppet, to Paris, which the Allied Powers had left in 
 the meantime. She hopefully looked forward to the winter, 
 rented a fine house on Rue Royale, and opened her salon to ft 
 brilliant society of the capital. In spite of her feeble health, she 
 would not and could not do without the enjoyments of 
 life - hence, she resisted her sufferings to the best of her power, 
 and'concealed from her friends her disease, which was not vis, 
 ble in her appearance. 
 
 Her friends had never seen her sick, and therefore believed 
 that she was now, too, in good health. Heat and cold and 1 
 change of the seasons had never produced any injurious eftect 
 upon her. It had never been necessary for her to devote any 
 attention to the preservation of her health, and her menta 
 restlessness had even rendered it needless for her to take regu- 
 lar exercise She never knew nervous weakness, and 
 fore did not believe in it. '< Sauraispuetre malade comme une 
 aulre " she said, " ri je n'avais pas mincu la nature physique 
 Bui even though she had been able to overcome slight i 
 positions by the strength of her will, she could not stem in this 
 manner the disease now preying upon her. No will is able 
 overcome sleepless nights. 
 
 . She was now in the midst of a new world in that city c 
 Paris for which she had pined so long. A Bourbon sat o; 
 the throne, and slowly destroyed all her precious dreams.
 
 472 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 Festivals were given in Paris. Madame de Stael had to in- 
 troduce to the brilliant society of the capital her only daughter, 
 to whom she wished to secure a home of her own. Albertine 
 de Stael was to marry a man whom she loved, and she became 
 Duchess de Broglie. 
 
 Her son Augustus, a grave young man of excellent character, 
 did not stay a long time in Paris, inasmuch as the quiet life of 
 Coppet was more agreeable to him. 
 
 Rocca lived w ith her, but never appeared by her side in 
 public. He submitted to this incognito which she imposed 
 on him, in order not to betray to her children the weakness 
 of which she had been guilty. The pale, sickly man played 
 the part of a faithful friend of the family ; the world, however, 
 contemplated him with a malicious smile. Madame de Stael 
 did not take any notice of it. She was conscious oflTo wrong ; 
 and his love, whose warmth consoled her hi all gloomy hours, 
 and animated her with fresh hope and courage, was worth more 
 to her than the sneers of the world. 
 
 Madame Recamier had now returned to Paris. She had al- 
 ways been a friend of the Bourbons, upon whom she looked, in 
 her piety, as the rulers of France by the grace of God, and so 
 her house became the rendezvous of the Royalists. 
 
 Madame de Stael differed with her friend on this point ; but 
 the respect which she always entertained for genuine convic- 
 tions, prevented her from opposing her otherwise than with the 
 warm words of her own convictions, and their friendship did 
 not suffer in consequence. 
 
 It was, however, soon to be put to a new test. Benjamin 
 Constant, hitherto an ardent adherent of the constitutional 
 party, whose principles he had advocated for fifteen years past, 
 suddenly kept away from the soirees of Madame de Stael, and 
 society asked hi surprise why he did so. He himself evaded
 
 THE EAGLE AT THE TUILERIES. 473 
 
 in confusion all inquiries on this subject. But fame did not 
 keep silent, and was not long in informing Madame de Stael 
 of the cause of his desertion. 
 
 An ardent passion for her beautiful friend had suddenly 
 seized him. The grave, bald-headed man loved her with the 
 ardor of early youth, and basked only in the sunshine of her 
 eyes. He had known her for many years past, without being 
 enamored of her ; and now, when earnest life had ripened hi?, 
 mind, and so many grave events counseled moderation to him^ 
 he suddenly forgot the whole world, and threw himself at hei 
 feet, and obeyed her slightest wishes. His attachment to Mad- 
 ame de Recamier silenced his hatred of the Bourbons, and it 
 was her spirit which caused him to denounce Napoleon ii 
 unmeasured terms. 
 
 Madame de Stael regretted the course which her formei 
 protege pursued. She was indifferent to his love, but she 
 could not but resent his defection from his party. She pun- 
 ished him for it by instructing her banker not to make any 
 more payments to him on her account. This step filled Ian 
 with intense indignation. 
 
 Thus approached the year 1815. 
 
 Early in the morning of the 6th of March, Madame de Staet 
 was informed that Bonaparte, her enemy, had landed on the 
 shores of France. This intelligence threw her into the utmost 
 consternation. 
 
 She knew what consequences would arise from this event ; 
 she thought the earth must open under her feet and swallow 
 her up at his approach, so dreadful was the thought of his 
 return to her. She tried to pray, but her lips refused to open. 
 Her imagination conjured up before her all the terrors of 
 hell, and filled her with boundless despair. She was unable 
 to regain her composure; and the dreadful anguish which
 
 474 MADAME DE STAEI/. 
 
 she suffered during these days, gave the death-blow to hef 
 health. 
 
 She hastened to Madame Recamier. The hour of danger 
 and her terror made her forgetful of the obstacles which had 
 lately arisen between them. The terror of Napoleon's name 
 united the two friends again. 
 
 She found Madame Recamier engaged in reading a letter 
 which she had just received from Benjamin Constant. It read 
 as follows : 
 
 " Pardon me for embracing this opportunity to molest you ; 
 but it is only too agreeable to me. My fate will be decided in five 
 or six days ; for although, to conceal the interest you take in 
 me, you refuse to believe it, I am convinced that Marmount, 
 Chateaubriand, Laine, and I, are the four men in France whose 
 lives are in the most imminent danger. Hence, it is certain 
 that, unless we defeat him, I shall in a week hence either be 
 exiled, imprisoned, or shot. Grant me as much time as possi- 
 ble during these two or three days previous to the battle. In 
 case I should die, it would do you good to have vouchsafed 
 such kindness to me, and you would certainly regret having 
 refused my last prayer. My attachment to you is such that a 
 mark of indifference on your part would be more dreadful to 
 me than my death-warrant four days hence. Did you like my 
 article, and did you hear what was said about it ?" * 
 
 " Poor Benjamin ! " said Madame de Stael, as she returned 
 the note to her beautiful friend. " His attachment to you, which 
 is by no means inexplicable to me, mon ange, has caused him 
 to lose his head. But what will become of us ? Shall we stay 
 here, or flee ? Mon Dieu ! Mon Dieu ! " 
 
 Her beautiful friend tried to calm her. The Royalists did 
 not believe in the possibility of Napoleon's return to Paris, 
 * Mduioires de Chateaubriand.
 
 THE EAGLE AT THE TUILERIES. 475 
 
 and she shared their opinion. Hence, she was indifferent to 
 the apprehensions of Benjamin Constant, and she availed her 
 self of her influence over him to cause him to attack the re 
 turning Emperor in more and more unmeasured terms. 
 
 But Madame de Stael refused to take the same hopeful view 
 of the future. She passed three days in an agony of suspense. 
 At last, on the 9th of March, when it was rumored that the 
 telegraph had brought no news from Lyons, inasmuch as a 
 cloud had obscured the view, she knew what kind of a cloud 
 it was. Was she to flee the city ? 
 
 On the same evening she went to the Tuileries to wait on 
 Louis the Eighteenth. She found him seemingly in good 
 spirits ; but the uneasiness hidden under his calm air, did not 
 escape her. 
 
 The walls of the Tuileries were still decorated with the 
 eagles of Napoleon ; they had led him to many a victory, and 
 her forebodings told her that they would not yet be faithless 
 to him. 
 
 From the Tuileries she drove to a soiree, in order to hear 
 what the Parisians hoped and feared. Here she found the 
 company engaged in the merriest conversation, and her anxi- 
 ety was derided. One of the ladies said to her, sneeringly: 
 
 " Quoif Madame, pouvez-vous craindre que les Fran$ais ne se 
 battent pas pour leur roi legitime contre un usurpateur ? " 
 
 These words seemed to her preposterous. Much as she hated 
 Napoleon, she could not share the silly opinion that an army 
 which he had led to so many victories, should forget the glory 
 of these years, and suddenly be actuated by the principles of 
 legitimacy. 
 
 No more did she believe in the possibility of a constitutional 
 empire, and she smiled at Napoleon's efforts to mislead Paris 
 by liberal measures.
 
 476 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 " Quiconqiie est loup, agisse en loup, 
 (Test leplus certain de beaucoup" 
 
 she said, shaking her head, when her friend proposed to her to 
 join his party. She advised those who wished to serve him, 
 to lend him their swords, in order to keep the foreign armies 
 from the frontiers of France, and through their patriotism to 
 regain the respect of Europe. She was too high-minded to con- 
 sult her personal interests at this juncture, and looked with 
 contempt on the men who now served a Bourbon, and now a 
 Napoleon. 
 
 Benjamin Constant was to find out in a very unpleasant man- 
 ner how little he could do without the advice of this lady. 
 When he heard that Napoleon had reached Paris, he was panic- 
 struck, and thought only of his personal safety ; the courage 
 on which he had prided himself before Madame Recamier had 
 been a self-deception ; he trembled cowardly in the face of the 
 danger ; and to save his threatened life, he hastened to the 
 American Embassador, Mr. Crawford, whom he implored to 
 grant him an asylum. The Embassador helped him to make 
 his escape ; but no sooner had he left Paris, than he regretted 
 what he had done ; he had to return to the lady whom he 
 loved ; he could not bear a separation from her, and returned to 
 his place of concealment. 
 
 General Sabastiani met him there, and persuaded him to sup- 
 port the new Government, and Benjamin Constant was weak 
 enough to accept the position of Counselor of State under Na- 
 poleon. 
 
 No sooner had he taken this step, than he rued it ; but he 
 could not retrace it. He was ashamed to meet Madame de 
 Stael ; he was ashamed to look Madame Recamier in the face ; 
 and, to obtain forgetfulness, he became a gambler.
 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE LAST DREAM OF LIFE. 
 
 THE Hundred Days were past. Napoleon had signed his 
 abdication on the 5th of July, 1815, and sailed on the Bellero* 
 pfion for St. Helena. Madame de Stael had witnessed these 
 momentous events from afar. Despite her hatred of Napo- 
 leon, she could not forgive France for permitting the foreign 
 troops to invade her, and she mourned over this new humilia- 
 tion heaped upon her country. 
 
 Last year's events had taught her what might be expected 
 of a Bourbon. The egotism of Louis the Eighteenth, who 
 cared only for his own comfort, disgusted her. She built no 
 hopes on the second Restoration, because the foreign powers 
 had forced it upon France on their own terms ; hence, the de- 
 parture of her greatest enemy almost left her cold, and she 
 sadly looked forward to the developments of the future. 
 
 At the beginning of the winter, she returned to her magnifi- 
 cent house in the Rue Royale. Benjamin Constant was no 
 longer in Paris. Having performed the undignified task which 
 the Chamber had intrusted to him, in commissioning him to 
 implore the clemency of the foreign powers, he had, to escape 
 from his remorse and confusion, gone to England, where he 
 issued his novel Adolphe and his Recollections of the Hundred 
 Days. Poor Constant ! He had become the sport of circum- 
 stances, and had lost faith in himself. 
 
 Weighed down by the apprehension that he might never be
 
 478 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 permitted again to set foot on the soil ot France, he tried to 
 write a justification of his conduct; and this paper, combined 
 with Decazes' intercession, finally caused the Government to 
 consent to his return to Paris. 
 
 Madame de Stael pitied him, although her compassion was 
 not free from indignation. She saw how grievously she had 
 mistaken his character; how few of the virtues with which 
 her imagination had adorned him, he possessed in reality ; how 
 she alone had made a distinguished man of him ; and how 
 contemptible had been his course since he had emancipated 
 himself from her influence. 
 
 Her sleepless nights gave her much time for reflection, and 
 caused her to see many things in a new light. She prayed a 
 great deal, not in words which she had learned by heart, but 
 in thoughts full of faith in the immortality of those whom God 
 had created. She had never dabbled with metaphysics, nor 
 with subtle investigations into the objects and intentions of 
 God in creating the world. "J'aime mieux Voraison dominicale 
 gue tout cela" she said. 
 
 She loved life ; she did not wish to give it up ; she did not 
 look forward to death with a heart full of resignation. Her 
 breast heaved many a deep sigh as she felt the fatal progress 
 of her disease. " Poor human nature!" she said. "Ah! 
 What is life ? What are we ? Our existence resembles that 
 gobelin tapestry whose front does not exhibit the woof, while 
 the reverse shows all the threads. The secret of our life on 
 earth consists in the connection of our faults with our suffer- 
 ings. I never committed a wrong which did not result in suf- 
 j fering." 
 
 Rocco never left her now. He read to her, comforted her, 
 cheered her up, and his love surrounded her with a tender 
 solicitude which she constantly acknowledged with fervent
 
 THE LAST DEE AM OF LIFE. 
 
 imtitude Her children, tenderly as they were attached to 
 her, had before them the future with all its hopes and interests ; 
 but'liocco's life was bound up in hers. 
 
 She had renewed her social relations ; she received a large 
 circle of acquaintances ; she was visited by all the distinguished 
 foreio-ners who nocked to the French capital after the second 
 Kestoration,andno one suspected her intense sufferings owing 
 to the wonderful control which she exercised over herselL 
 " After her sleepless nights, she rose at a late hour, and did not 
 receive her friends until toward nightfall. In the morning si 
 sat neatly exhausted in her room ; the pale Rocca sat opposi 
 to her ; and she listened to him with eyes half closed as he read 
 to her her letters and the papers. 
 
 "You are exhausted," she would say to him now and 
 " Cease reading ; it tires you too much." 
 
 I do not feel tired as long as I am with you," he replied, 
 W ith a glance of tenderness, which brought tears to her eyes. 
 
 Oh, Rocca, if I should lose you t " she exclaimed, gazing at 
 him with an air of tender anxiety. 
 He shook his head incredulously. 
 
 What animates me, keeps death away from me," he , ud, 
 serenely. An immortal fire glows in my veins." 
 
 She sighed. " Would that I had met you at an earli. 
 she exclaimed, in a low voice. 
 A beautiful young lady entered the room. 
 "Pardon me for disturbing you, dear mamma,' she s 
 There is in the ante-room a gentleman whom you reft** 
 admit because his name was not announced to you correctly. 
 He complained to me about it, when I passed him, and . 
 sure you would regret not having seen him." 
 Well, who is it? " asked Madame de Stael, impatie 
 " Ochlenschlager."
 
 480 MADAME 1)E STAEL. 
 
 " Ah ! Is it be ? I shall certainly be glad to see him. Pray 
 invite him for to-night, and excuse me for being unable to re- 
 ceive him immediately. Nine years ago, my friends could visit 
 me at all hours ; but now I have to try to find an hour when I 
 may be able to receive them. Ah ! Poor human nature ! " 
 
 " You will get better," said Rocca, consolingly. " Next 
 spring you will recover your strength." 
 
 " Say no more about it, Rocca. My daughter looks very well 
 to-day, does she not? I hope she is happy. I have procured 
 her another lot than that which fell to my share. I have 
 warned her against the dangers of fame and politics; she was 
 not to imitate in any manner the example I had set her. I did 
 not want her to undergo the same sufferings which had befallen 
 me. <Tai assez de moi en moi, et je veux qu'on me renvoie autre 
 chose que ma wix. We must educate our children for life, and 
 not try to deceive them. I always told them the truth, and 
 never misled them. To become happy, they had to stand oil 
 firm ground, and look forward to their future with unclouded 
 eyes. I never concealed my faults from them, but always 
 pointed out to them the evil consequences arising therefrom. 
 This produced the most salutary effects. My frankness touched 
 them. ' Si vous aviez de* torts, non seulement fen serais mallieu- 
 reuse, mats fen aurais des rewords] I said to them. I was un- 
 able to bear my exile. I did not set them an example of cour- 
 age and resignation. Fortunately, I have to suffer for it. Ah, 
 Rocca, how sad it is that our passions should darken our mind 
 and mislead us so grievously. Pauvre nature humaine ! " 
 
 " You could not help it," replied Rocca. " It was your 
 nature." 
 
 He comforted her thus in her own words. But she replied : 
 
 " To yield to one's nature is weakness. I should have re- 
 sisted it. It was Rousseau who misled me. Now it is too
 
 THE LAST DREAM OF LIFE. 481 
 
 late. But I only was weak. I never was bad and vicious. I 
 strove only for the good, and never injured anybody save my- 
 self; that is my consolation." 
 
 " Nature had endowed you with extraordinary gifts, and had 
 therefore to exempt you from the ordinary rules. I should be 
 loth to see you resemble other women." 
 
 She sighed. 
 
 When OchlenschlEger appeared in her salon in the evening, 
 lie found Madame de Stael surrounded by a brilliant circle of 
 guests, and no one suspected the efforts which she had to make 
 in order to play her part for a few hours. The Northern poet 
 had to elbow his way through the crowd up to the sofa where 
 ehe sat, her head covered with a turban. 
 
 " Ah, Ochlenschiager," she merrily exclaimed, holding out 
 her hand to him. " I hope you have brought your youngest 
 child with you ? You do not appear here as a stepfather ? " 
 
 The stiff Northerner could not adapt himself so suddenly 
 to the nonclialance of her manner ; she acted as if he had left 
 her only yesterday, while he could not cross the long interval 
 without a certain ceremoniousness. He looked at her in sur- 
 prise. 
 
 " Speak ! speak ! I wish to hear if you have forgotten your 
 French," exclaimed Madame de Stael. " We are going to per- 
 form some proverbs, llfaut renouer la phrase interrompue." 
 
 She then introduced him to Alexander von Humboldt, whom 
 he had seen in Berlin ten years ago, and now met here so unex- 
 pectedly. Augustus William Schlegel greeted him soon after. 
 But, owing to the throng, no continued conversation was possi- 
 ble. Madame de Stael invited Ochlenschiager to dine with 
 her on the following day. Our poet was unable to find his 
 shoes on that day, and arrived, therefore, at seven, and not at 
 six. Madame de Stael sat at a small round table with her 
 21
 
 482 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 daughter, the Duchess de Broglie, and two elderly ladies. A 
 seat had been reserved for OchlenschlSger. While the poet 
 tried to make up for the time which he had lost, Madame de 
 Stael congratulated him on the celebrity which he had ob- 
 tained in the North. 
 
 " What is the North compared with the earth ? " he replied, 
 alluding to her fame. 
 
 She inquired about Werner, and chatted gayly about the past 
 and present, the new productions of literature, and the suc- 
 cesses of their common acquaintances, till the hour of his de- 
 parture. Rocca and Schlegel did not make their appearance. 
 
 Madame de Stael now felt that her strength was fast ebbing 
 away. Great as was her self-control, her will often was power- 
 less, and she would then exclaim, " Pauvre nature humaine ! " 
 Her physicians were at a loss what to advise her. The balmy 
 air of Pisa had not given her any relief, and she was soon 
 unable to receive her friends in the evening ; she had to keep 
 her room, and often her bed. 
 
 Chateaubriand visited her one morning, and was surprised to 
 hear that she could no longer leave her couch. Only a few 
 days ago he had dined with her, and had not suspected that 
 she was so very sick. She received him now in a dark room ; 
 supported by cushions, she sat in her bed, and held out to him 
 her emaciated hand with her old cordiality. 
 
 It was so dark in the room that he was at first scarcely able 
 to see her. When he had stepped close up to her, he perceived 
 on her cheek the flush of the fatal fever which was preying 
 upon her, and which could no longer be checked. Even in. 
 this gloom, a ray from her fine eyes met his face, and she said 
 to him kindly : 
 
 " Son jour, my dear Francis, I am sick ; but that does not 
 prevent me from loving you."
 
 THE LAST DREAM OF LIFE. 483 
 
 He took her hand and pressed it in deep emotion to his lips, 
 for be felt that he would not often see her again. 
 
 When he looked up, he perceived on the other side of the 
 bed a pale form resembling an apparition ; and upon fixing his 
 eyes on the figure, he discovered that it was Rocca. With 
 hollow cheeks, dim eyes, and his features distorted with grief, 
 the poor man gazed mournfully upon his sick friend, and 
 seemed hardly to belong any longer to life. Not a syllable 
 fell from his lips. He silently returned the greeting of the 
 Visitor by slightly nodding his head; he then arose and left 
 the room noiselessly. He flitted past like a shade, casting a sig- 
 nificant glance on the sick lady, who returned it. He probabry 
 wished to caution her against aggravating her fever by engag- 
 ing in an animated conversation; at all events, Chateaubriand 
 thought that this was his intention. 
 " You must husband your strength," he said to Madame de 
 
 " You should do so for the sake of your friends." 
 She smiled gently. 
 
 "I cannot do so," she said; "I have always been true to 
 myself, sincere, frank, and sad; fai aim* Dieu, mm ptre et la 
 l&ertt" 
 
 " God will preserve you to us for a long time ; for he knows 
 how little we can do without you," replied Chateaubriand. 
 
 "Ah, my dear Francis, it would be hard for me to die with 
 such a wealth of love in my heart. I should not like to be 
 separated from Albertine, neither here nor there. Ah, a 
 daughter ! You have no idea how dearly I love my daughter 
 iny dear Francis ! " 
 
 "But you do not think that you are in danger?" he asked 
 in surprise. "At your age ? And with your strong constitu-' 
 tion ? " 
 
 "Why not? Mm ptre m'attend sur Vautre lord. When-
 
 484 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 ever I think of God, I must think of my father, too. I have 
 asked Schlegel to write down all my sentiments on this sub- 
 ject. I have tried to imagine the manner in which we shall 
 pass from life to death, and I am convinced that God in His 
 mercy will render it easy for us. Our ideas grow confused, 
 our pains cease, and we are no more. That, is my idea of 
 death. With a last thought of all whom we love, we are there 
 already. Is it not so ? " 
 
 " Let us not think of it," said Chateaubriand, soothingly ; 
 and, in order not to weary her, he left her with the promise 
 that he would soon repeat his visit. 
 
 A few days afterward, he received from her an invitation to 
 dinner. He would scarcely trust his eyes. Could she have 
 recovered so speedily ? It was hardly possible. 
 
 When he arrived at her house, she was not in the salon. 
 Like all patients in that state of decline, she was at times mis- 
 taken as to her condition, and believed herself to be quite well. 
 None of her friends believed that her life was in danger. The 
 lively interest which she took in everything that concerned 
 them, whenever her fever abated, misled them. At the dinner- 
 table, Madame Recamier asked M. de Chateaubriand what he 
 thought of her friend's condition ; he gave an evasive answer ; 
 for he himself did not suspect that he had already seen her for 
 the last time. 
 
 Madame de Stael had removed to a house on the Rue Neuve 
 des Mathurins ; but the change had not done her any good. 
 She could not sleep in the night time, and her strength de- 
 clined more and more. Her hand was already unable to trace 
 legible characters ; her mind could no longer conceive clear 
 thoughts; her life was fast ebbing away. 
 
 Her children were assembled round her bed ; a grateful 
 glance of love rewarded their faithful attachment. The pale
 
 THE LAST DREAM OF LIFE. 485 
 
 Rocca fixed his eyes on lier as if unconsciously. She faintly 
 wrung his hand yet, as if to console him for his loss, which, she 
 knew full well, he would not survive. 
 
 Benjamin Constant, his arms folded on his breast, stood like 
 a marble statue, at some distance from her couch. Since he 
 had acquired the conviction that he would lose her for ever- 
 more, both his love for Madame Recamier and his ambition 
 had died away. He wrote no more books, he made no more 
 speeches, he no longer took any interest in political affairs. 
 Grief silenced all other emotions in his breast. The impending 
 death of his friend aroused all his generous feelings. It 
 was not until now that he felt what Madame de Stael had been 
 to him, and he believed he could no longer achieve any- 
 thing without her applause. He stood before her in somber 
 silence, counting the years since he had known her, and 
 since she had directed his steps with so much generosity and 
 devotedness. And now he was to live without her for ever- 
 more ! He was scarcely able to restrain a loud outburst of his 
 grief. 
 
 Madame Recamier sat in an arm-chair in a distant corner of 
 the room, her face buried in her hands, and Benjamin Con- 
 stant did not vouchsafe a glance to the beautiful lady. 
 
 Augustus William Schlegel appeared every now and then 
 on tiptoe, and asked in a whisper how she was. This was 
 the only interruption of the profound silence, amidst which 
 the hands of the clock alone indicated the progress of time. 
 Thus the still hour of midnight approached, and Madame 
 de Stael ceased to breathe. She had passed away with de- 
 vout faith, and in the hope that, by the side of her heavenly 
 Father, she would meet her own father, and bask again in his 
 love. 
 
 Her children looked after her, heart-broken and in despair.
 
 486 MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 The roses had just disappeared, when her remains arrived, in 
 a carriage hung in black, and accompanied by Schlegel and 
 Augustus de Stael, at Coppct, where they were to be interred 
 in the mausoleum which she had erected to her father. It 
 was built of black marble; and a bas-relief, the design of 
 which she had drawn herself, surmounted the door. There 
 she had knelt, weeping, at the coffins of her parents, who 
 held out to her their hands from heaven. How often had 
 she walked in the bosquet where it stood ; how often had 
 she sought there consolation in mournful hours ; how often 
 had she prayed there alone ! Now she was to find repose 
 there for evermore. 
 
 The members of the municipality of Coppet carried her coffin, 
 as a p*roof of their love and respect for her ; the whole council 
 of Geneva attended her funeral. The Duke de Noailles had 
 hastened from his neighboring estate of Rolle, to Coppet, and 
 all her friends and relatives arrived from far and near, to pay 
 the last honors to her. At her grave there was read a sermon 
 written by Necker, and the thought that her own father thus 
 took part in the funeral of his child, made a deep impression 
 upon all mourners. 
 
 Her will was then read. It contained a request to her chil- 
 dren to inform the world of her union with Rocca, and to treat 
 the little boy, whom she had born to him, as a member of their 
 family. 
 
 The bystanders heard this clause in surprise. Benjamin 
 Constant turned deadly pale ; his eyes shot fire, and he looked 
 defiance at poor Rocca for a minute ; but then his eyes fell on 
 the coffin, and he left the room with a deep sigh, and disap- 
 peared for a long time. 
 
 Rocca, however, had remained perfectly apathetic. He 
 had lost her ; what were the affairs of this world now to
 
 THE LAST DEE AM OF LIFE. 487 
 
 him ? He went to his brother in Provence, and died shortly 
 afterward. 
 
 Augustus de Stael became proprietor of Coppet. Here he 
 led a calm and grave life, devoted to the welfare of humanity, 
 until his premature death, by which the name immortalized 
 by his mother became extinct. 
 
 Natura lafece e poi ruppe la stampa. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 STEKEOrrPED BT DENNIS BRO'S * CO., AUBURN, H. T.
 
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