THE 
 
 PRIVATE JOURNAL 
 
 OF 
 
 MADAME CAMPAN, 
 
THE / rf 
 
 PRIVATE JOURNAL 
 
 
 COMPRISING 
 
 ORIGINAL ANECDOTES OF THE FRENCH COURT ; 
 
 SELECTIOKS TROM HER 
 
 CORRESPONDENCE, THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION^ 
 
 EDITED BY M. MAIGNE. 
 
 I'HILADELPHIA : 
 
 rUBLISHED By ABRAHAM SMALL. 
 
 1825. ^^ 
 
<> 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Having resided nearly five years at Mantes, oh 
 terms of iatimate friendship with niadame Campan, 
 and having been constantly with her during the pro- 
 gress of her malady, I made a promise to several of 
 her pupils, that I w-Md compose an account of her 
 last moments, as I felt that the mournful relation, 
 whilst it encouraged their sorrow, would be also 
 in accordance with my own just and profound re* 
 gret. 
 
 I have been for a considerable time deterred 
 from this undertaking, by the want of the requisite 
 leisure. When I proceeded, at length, to arrange 
 the notes I had collected, I found that they com- 
 prised a multitude of anecdotes, that appeared 
 curious, together with some interesting disclosures. 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 Madame Campan had seen and heard an amazing 
 variety of things. Her memory, powerful and ac- 
 curate, suffered nothing to escape her during so long 
 a period as from the end of the reign of Louis XV. 
 to the time when she retired to Mantes, (1816.) 
 From all this, her active and ready mind extracted 
 wonderful resources ; she was capable of discoursing 
 for hours without a moment's interruption to the in- 
 terest of the conversation,— in which, amusing re- 
 collections were mingled with the happiest flights of 
 fancy. The addition of a remarkable order and 
 clearness in her ideas, as well as a great deal of 
 natural character in her expressions, rendered her 
 society doubly charming, I can even declare that I 
 should have found it impossible to avoid retaining 
 any thing related by madame Campan. To write 
 down, therefore, at the conclusion of the evening, 
 what I had heard in the course of the day, was a 
 matter of no difficulty whatever j and I felt happy 
 in preserving, by my pen, the conversations of a 
 woman so deservedly celebrated. 
 
 From these Notes, carefully collected, the anec- 
 dotical portion of the present work is formed. The 
 reader will be aware that no methodical classification 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Vll 
 
 could be given to detached thoughts, recollections 
 suggested by the conversation of the moment, and 
 reflections called forth by the events of the day. I 
 have, consequently, given them just as I found them, 
 scattered amongst my papers. Sometimes madame 
 Campan herself is the speaker; at other times, her 
 conversations are related by me. In order to mark 
 the distinction in these two cases, inverted commas 
 are employed in the passages containing her own 
 words. 
 
 The only part of this small work, susceptible of a 
 somewhat regular form, is that in which madame 
 Campan's illness commences. Omitting such mat- 
 ters as would have no interest but for members of 
 the faculty, I have noted down, day by day, those 
 instances of discourse, when, even in the midst of 
 her sufferings, she excited our astonishment by her 
 courage. Her resignation afforded an edifying lesson 
 of piety, and threw a kind of charm over her last 
 moments ; while the sallies of her imagination were 
 intermingled with joyous or with touching remi- 
 niscences of the past. 
 
 The inedited Letters will give proof that she, who 
 
via PREFACE. 
 
 has succeeded so well in her Memoirs, and in her 
 Essay on Education, possessed equal ability to have 
 distinguished herself in the epistolary style. Those 
 which she wrote to her Son, exhibit, in an especial 
 degree, the frankness,^ the natural felicity, and the 
 charm of manner with which she was wont to unbo= 
 som herself in her Correspondence 
 
JOURNAL, &c. 
 
 About the end of December, 1815, I saw ma- 
 ilame Campan for the first time. She then resided 
 in Paris, in the Rue Saint Lazare. 
 
 The misfortunes with which she and her family 
 were just then visited, rendered her longer residence 
 in the French capital so unpleasant, that she resolv- 
 ed to retire into the country. Though this determi- 
 nation accorded with her slender fortune, yet she 
 was unwilling to withdraw herself too far from the 
 centre of public affairs. She wished still to be within 
 the sphere of the political events of the day ; and she 
 was also anxious that her family and numerous 
 friends might be enabled to visit her with facility. 
 She, therefore, made choice of the little town of 
 Mantes. Madame Maigne, whom she had educa- 
 ted, who had acted as her secretary at Ecouen, and 
 to whom she was tenderly attached, had resided at 
 Mantes for the space of three years ; a circumstance 
 which materially influenced madame Campan in giv- 
 ing the preference to that town, and I was sincerely 
 glad of it. About the beginning of April, 1816, she 
 came to fix her abode among us. 
 
 From that period to the time when she was snatch- 
 ed from us, I enjoyed the happiness of seeing her 
 B 
 
6 JOURNAL. 
 
 twice every day, and I always took leave of her with 
 increased regret; such was the delight which her 
 charming and varied conversation afforded me. 
 Madame la Marechale de Beauvan observed, that 
 no one knew better how to kill time than madame 
 Cam pan. 
 
 On her arrival at Mantes, she was so unwell that 
 she was scarcely able to eat ; for whenever she took 
 her meals, she was seized with a tingling and buz- 
 zing in her ears. This sensation, which deprived 
 her of all power of thinking or acting, sometimes 
 lasted for several hours. Madame Campan called 
 it her nightmare. " It is my enemy," said she, " it 
 " will kill me, for it will be seconded by apoplexy." 
 
 These attacks were renewed four or five times 
 every month ; and when they took place in the night, 
 they left a deep impression on her mind, and her 
 ideas took a melancholy turn. She would then be 
 angry with herself, and try to recover her former 
 cheerfulness, which she said had fled like a bird 
 from its cage. 
 
 " Certainly," said she, '« the main springs of my 
 " life are either worn out or rusty ; there is some- 
 " thing extraordinary in my present condition. My 
 *^« mental afflictions must have produced a severe 
 " shock on my physical faculties. I am perplexed 
 " when I endeavour to form conjectures respecting 
 '' my health. I leave the matter to you. 
 
 *' In my present condition I scarcely know myself. 
 *< My spirits are depressed ; my mind wanders ; and 
 *< my resolution flags before I can attain the object 
 «' I have in view. I cannot account for this. It 
 ^' would require a world of explanation to enable me 
 
JOURNAL. 7 
 
 * to understand it. The doctors, who have cures 
 ^^ for every thing, even for disorders of which they 
 '-^ are wholly ignorant, make a great display of skill, 
 ** and hold out hope by which they succeed in divert- 
 ^* ing me a little ; but they can do no more, and they 
 *^ are as much puzzled as I am. Poor human na- 
 *' ture ! If we knew our destiny, how much more 
 " wretched we should be than we really are." 
 
 The state of madame Campan's health, and the 
 turn of her reflections, naturally led her to relate to 
 us the following anecdote : — 
 
 " At the time when Mesmer made so much noise 
 " in Paris with his magnetism, M. Campan, my hus- 
 " band, was his partizan, like almost every person who 
 *^ moved in high life. To be magnetised was then a 
 " fashion ; nay, it was more, it was absolutely a rage, 
 " In the drawing-rooms nothing was talked of but 
 " the brilliant discovery. There was to be no more 
 " dying ; people's heads were turned, and their ima- 
 " ginations heated in the highest degree. To accom- 
 " plish this object it was necessary to bewilder the 
 " understanding; and Mesmer, with his singular 
 " language, produced that eflect. To put a stop to 
 '' the fit of public insanity was the grand difficulty ; 
 "and it was proposed to have the secret purchased 
 *< by the court. Mesmer fixed his claims at a very 
 " extravagant rate. However, he was offered fifty 
 " thousand crowns. By a singular chance, I was 
 " one day led into the midst of the somnambulists. 
 " Such was the enthusiasm of the numerous specta« 
 " tors, that in most of them I could observe a wild 
 " roiling of the eye, and a convulsed movement of 
 
8 JOURNAL. 
 
 * the countenance. A stranger might have fancied 
 ' himself amidst the unfortunate patients of Charen- 
 ' ton. Surprised and shocked at seeing so many 
 ' people almost in a state of delirium, I withdrew, 
 
 * full of reflections on the scene which I had just 
 ' witnessed. It happened that about this time my 
 
 * husband was attacked with a pulmonary disorder, 
 ' and he desired that he might be conveyed to Mes- 
 
 * mer's house. Being introduced into the apartment 
 ' occupied by M. Campan, I asked the worker of 
 ' miracles what treatment he proposed to adopt ; he 
 ' very coolly replied, that to ensure a speedy and 
 ' perfect cure, it would be necessary to lay, in the 
 ' bed of the invalid, at his left side, one of three 
 
 * things, namely, a young woman of brown complex- 
 « ion, a black hen, or an empty bottle. ' Sir,' said I, 
 ' * if the choice be a matter of indifference, pray try 
 « the empty bottle.' 
 
 *' JVI. Campan's side grew worse 5 he experienced 
 
 * a difficulty of breathing, and a pain in his chest. 
 ' All the magnetic remedies that .were employed 
 ' produced no effect. Perceiving his failure, Mes- 
 « mer took advantage of the periods of my absence 
 
 * to bleed and blister the patient. I was not inform- 
 ' ed of what had been done until after M. Campan's 
 < recovery, Mesmer was asked for a certificate, to 
 ' prove that t'he patient had been cured by means of 
 ' magnetism only, and he gave it. Here was a trait of 
 
 * enthusiasm ! Truth was no longer respected. When 
 ' I next presented myself to the Queen, their Ma- 
 
 * jesties asked what I thought of Mesmer's disco- 
 ' very. I informed them of what had taken place, 
 
 * earnestly expressing my indignation at the conduct 
 
JOURNAL. 9 
 
 *' of the barefaced quack. It was immediately deter- 
 *^ mined to have nothing more to do with him."* 
 
 Daring the consulate, Napoleon, one day after 
 dinner, stood leaning against the drawing-room 
 xhimney-piece, in a very meditative attitude. A 
 lady, one of his relatives, observing him, said : — . 
 " You look like a conspirator,'* " True," he replied, 
 " I am now conspiring against the monarchs of Eu- 
 rope. Time will show that a shrug of the shoulders 
 is sufficient to overthrow a bad political system." 
 
 A lady asked madame Campan during her resi- 
 dence at Mantes, to recommend her to a good con- 
 fessor. * Madame Campan mentioned her own, who, 
 she observed, was a man of intelligence and respect- 
 ability. '^ But, madame," inquired the lady, " is he 
 a reasonable man ?" — " Oh ! very much so," said 
 madame Campan, " he was one of the " court abbes." 
 -— ^^ Then he is just the man to suit me," said the 
 lady. 
 
 At the time when Napoleon was commander-ino 
 chief of the army of Italy, his sisters and youngar 
 brother, together with the children of Josephine, 
 were at school at St. Germain. During the summer 
 they occasionally paid a visit to Paris, accompanied 
 by Madame Voisin. One evening, to finish their 
 holiday, they proposed going to the theatre, and be- 
 
 • The following anecdotes, or reflections, are, as has already been 
 mentioned, put together without any regard to order. It WQuld^ indeed, 
 have been impossible to preserve any regular arrangement, 
 B 2 
 
10 JOURNAL. 
 
 ing shott of money, they were obliged to mount luto 
 the gallery. 
 
 Madame Campan, while she was at Mantes, fre- 
 quently dwelt on the extraordinary occurrences 
 brought about by chance : — " I was," said she, «' the 
 " instructress of a nest of kings and queens, without 
 " ever dreaming of such a thing ; and, indeed, it 
 *^ was very fortunate for all parties that we did not 
 " know it. Their education was the same as that of 
 " my other pupils. There was no distinction ob- 
 " served among them. When they quitted me, they 
 " were all possessed of an excellent stock of informa- 
 " tion, with the exception of one only, who, though 
 "gifted with a fine understanding, never evinced a 
 " willingness to learn. Had these young women 
 " been educated as queens, they would have been 
 "flattered instead of instructed. Being ignorant of 
 " their future destiny, they received the accompiish- 
 " ments of women of distinction, added to the more 
 " solid acquirements requisite to form good mis- 
 " tresses of families, which, indeed, should be the 
 "grand object of female education." 
 
 The reputation of madame Campan's establish- 
 ment spread beyond Europe ; and she obtained fxu- 
 pils even from Calcutta. While she was at the head 
 of the great establishment which she managed with 
 such success, her pupils, who were mostly the daugh- 
 ters ^wealthy individuals, annually got up 2^ fete in 
 honour of their governess. They allotted one day 
 in the year to the pleasure of testifying their affec- 
 tion for madame Campan, whom they all regarded 
 
JOURNAL. 11 
 
 as a second mother, for the sentiments with which 
 she inspired them, and as an excellent friend to 
 guide them in the path of duty« 
 
 The young ladies formed a subscription among 
 themselves, for the purpose of presenting to their 
 governess a feeble mark of their attachment. The 
 sum subscribed amounted to between 1,000 and 
 1,200 francs. On the day appointed for the purchase 
 of the present, madame Campan sent for the curate 
 of Saint Germain, and in the presence of her pupils, 
 addressed him as follows : — " Sir, I am full of gra- 
 " titude for the kind intentions of my pupils. The 
 "feelings by which they are animated, are so good 
 " and pure, that I conceive it to be my duty to apply 
 "the sum which they have collected to an obji;ct 
 " equally praiseworthy. I therefore request. Sir, 
 " that (with the consent of my pupils) you will dis- 
 " pose of the sum they have collected in apprenticing 
 " a female orphan of this town. Let the girl's con- 
 " nexions be poor, but respectable, and I should 
 *< wish the surplus of the money to be paid into the 
 " poor box.'* This act of benevolence was renewed 
 every year, while the establishment of Saint Ger- 
 main existed. " The mistresses of the Paris boarding 
 "schools," said madame Campan, «* shewed a wifih 
 "to imitate me in many points 5 but they never at- 
 " tempted to copy me in this." She frequently made 
 the following observation ; — " My pupils were my 
 " daughters, so long as they remained with me> and 
 " my friends, when they returned to their homes.'* 
 
 " At the period when the priests were again per- 
 " mitted to say mass during the revolution, the 
 
12 JOURN'AL, 
 
 " churches were found to have been stripped of every 
 '' thing. I provided some fine lawn for the church 
 *' of Saint Germain. At the time of the confirma- 
 " tion, I directed those of my pupils who were most 
 " abundantly supplied with money, to purchase a 
 " sufficient quantity of lawn, cambric, lace, &c. to 
 " make surplices and albes. After the religious ce- 
 " remony, they were left for the use of the church ; 
 ** and Saint Germain's was, at that period of my 
 " glory, one of the richest churches in France." 
 
 In a conversation which madame Carapan had 
 with Napoleon, he said :— " It is not the poor, but 
 the rich, who require to be looked after in a stare. 
 It is the higher ranks who demand attention. If 
 they were not reined in, they would pull down the 
 sovereign in no time. I hold them with a firm hand, 
 and keep them at a due distance, for they are full of 
 ambition. They are pleasant companions, but they 
 have keen appetites. The poor must be protected, 
 or they would be devoured. The higher orders have 
 every advantage in society. Their rank and wealth 
 protect them but too well. The power of the throne 
 is in the lower ranks, and all the dangers that threaten 
 it proceed from the great." 
 
 (The reader will be pleaged to recollect, that the paragraphs distin- 
 guished by inverted commas at the commencement of each line, are to 
 be ufiderstnod as containiDg the express words of madame Campan.) 
 
 "- In 1801, M. Dubreuil, a physician, and ma- 
 " dame i'Hopital, both inhabitants of Saint Ger- 
 '*main, were arrested and conveyed to the Temple ; 
 " the former for having felt the pulse of M. Talon's 
 " child, and the latter for having been visited by M. 
 
JOURNAL. 13 
 
 ♦^ Dubreail. Though the last-mentioned individual 
 " lived perfectly retired, his presence nevertheless 
 '• gave umbrage to the government. The police, 
 *' artful as it then was, could not find an excuse for 
 " putting him under arrest ; but as the principal could 
 >* not be got at, the accessaries were taken in his 
 ^' stead. 
 
 " M. Dubreuil, on being conducted to prison, 
 *' wrote to me, requesting that I would exert my in- 
 " fluence in his behalf. He could not, he said, guess 
 *' the cause of such a proceeding. I was much in- 
 « terested for M. Dubreuil, who was my physician, 
 " and my friend ; and I was the more astonished at 
 " his arrest, as I well knew his quiet inoffensive ha- 
 " bits and opinions. I immediately repaired to the 
 <'Tuileries. As soon as the First Consul beheld 
 " me he said, 'You have come to intercede for the 
 " inhabitants of Saint Germain. Your madame de 
 *' THopital is an intriguer.' ' I beg pardon, general, 
 " she might once perhaps have been reproached for a 
 " little levity; but surely that must be all over at the 
 «' age of seventy-eight. An intriguer she cannot be ; 
 " a little coquetry would perhaps be more to her 
 " taste, but she is blind. She receives company 
 " every evening, and through the fear of being 
 " thought impolite, she makes her courtsey even to 
 '* the absent. 
 
 '< When Napoleon was informed of the real cir- 
 " cumstances he grew angry, and said, in the pre- 
 " sence of Josephine : < a blind woman, seventy-eight 
 "years old, is always innocent of political offences. 
 *' The minister has committed an act of cruelty, un- 
 " worthy of my government. Had Fouche been 
 
14 * JOURNAL. 
 
 " plotting with my enemies, he could not have done 
 "better. He must be mad. I cannot permit such 
 " proceedings to take place under the sanction of my 
 " authority. It is my wish, that every act emanating 
 " from my power should be such as reason will ap- 
 *' prove. A government should be actuated by ex- 
 ** alted views and generous sentiments. The arbi- 
 " trary act that has just been committed, is worthy 
 " only of a sovereign's mistress, in a fit of passion, 
 " Matters must not go on in this way. The head 
 " of the State should never be biased by passion. 
 " History will record every thing, and what will be 
 " said of such conduct as this ? But what has the 
 " doctor done V « Why, general, he attended M. 
 " de Talon's child, and he has, for many years past, 
 <* daily visited his fellow prisoner in the Temple. 
 *' ' This business is almost incredible,' resumed Na- 
 '' poleon. ' A doctor may surely prescribe for my 
 " enemies as well as for my friends, without giving 
 " offence to the ministry. Medical professors are 
 " not, like the holders of government places, required 
 " to embrace a particular set of opinions. 
 
 '< Abuses like this degrade and compromit my 
 " authority. I must have some conversation with 
 «' the minister, and the prisoners shall be liberated.' 
 *' He rang the bell with violence, and sent for Fouche, 
 " who, if I may use. a vulgar expression, received a 
 " hearty dressing. However, the prisoners were* not 
 *' set at liberty until thirty hours after this conver- 
 «' sation ; such was the tardiness with which the mi- 
 " nister went through the formalities necessary for 
 «' procuring their release. One of Josephine's car^ 
 «* ria^es was sent to convey them from the Temple ; 
 
JOURNAL. 15 
 
 " on hearing whuh, madame de THopital exclaimed: 
 " are these madame Buonaparte's beauiitul white 
 " horses ? It matters very little, madam, whether 
 *< they be white or black, said M. Debreuil, peevish- 
 " ly, so as they draw us out of prison." 
 
 " Ministers, when offended,'' said madame Cam- 
 pan, ** are like pretty women ; they do not easily for- 
 *^ give. Their self-love is very susceptible. Their 
 <« places are given to them only that they may dis- 
 «* charge their functions reasonably and discreetly ; 
 *< but unfortunately, they cannot shake off vulgar 
 " weaknesses." 
 
 During the hundred days, Napoleon observed, 
 that nobility, inflated as it is with pride and ambi- 
 tion, is not a very manageable commodity. "In 
 1 806," said he, " the Emperor Alexander thought me 
 too happy in having none. The nobility was a trou- 
 ble of my own creating. I should have made a no- 
 bleman of every individual paying fifty francs of 
 taxes. This would have levelled a blow at the very 
 roots of the old nobility, and the new nobles would 
 have been less arrogant. My plans did not answer 
 the ends I had in view. I wished for splendour, and 
 I got nothing but vexation, through the avarice and 
 ambition of those whom I elevated.'' 
 
 " The counts of his making," added madame Cam- 
 pan, " were worth the counting ;^ they were the work 
 " of a master hand." 
 
 * Puns are not translateable, and it is therefore proper to give the 
 original, which is: — Les comtes de safagon, ne se croyaient pas de 
 contes pour rire, Ufaut convenir quHls sont diifait d^un gra7idhomme> 
 
16 JOURNAL. 
 
 " Napoleon observed, that if he coald fairly fight 
 public opinion, he should not fear it. But as it could 
 not be beat down by his artillery, he found himself 
 obliged to conciliate it by justice and equity, two 
 powers by which it is always to be won. To pursue 
 any other course, is to endanger wealth and distinc- 
 tion. It is impossible to imprison public opinion j 
 restraint serves only to irritate it." <' Public opinion," 
 added madame Campan, ^' may be compared to an 
 ** eel ; the tighter one holds it, the sooner it escapes." 
 
 Napoleon likewise said : — " Revolutions are bro't 
 about only by injustice. Where would be the motive 
 for them, if governments were guided solely by the 
 laws of equity ? All revolutions, past and to come, 
 must be attributed to injustice, and I defy the most 
 artful politician to assign any other cause for them. 
 In the object of the French revolution there was no- 
 thing to condemn ; all the mischief consisted in the 
 excesses committed by misguided men. It is neces- 
 sary to bear in mind these two facts, lest we should 
 confound justice on the one hand, and iniquity on the 
 other. What ! must a man trace back his pedigree 
 for fourteen centuries, before he can be deemed 
 worthy of respect ? Before the revolution, it was ne- 
 cessary to be a nobleman to hold a commission in the 
 army ; and to be connected with a great family to 
 obtain a bishopric. The revolution was brought 
 about by the nobility and the high clergy. That's a 
 fact of which I am thoroughly convinced." 
 
 Ambition, and other bad passions, are not to be 
 corrected by experience. The present soon plunges 
 the past into oblivion. 
 
JOURNAL. t7 
 
 Madame Campan often told me, she had heard 
 from Napoleon, that when he founded the convent of 
 the Sisters of la Charite, he was urgently solicited to 
 permit perpetual vows. He, however, refused to do 
 so, on the ground that tastes may change, and that 
 he did not see the necessity of excluding from the 
 world women who might some time or other return 
 to it, and become useful members of society. <' Nun- 
 neries,'' he added, *< assail the very roots of popula- 
 tion. It is impossible to calculate the loss which a 
 nation sustains in having ten thousand women shut 
 up in cloisters. War does but little mischief; for 
 the number of males is at least one twenty-fifth 
 greater than that of females. Women may, if they 
 please, be allowed to make perpetual vows at fifty 
 years of age ; for then their task is fulfilled." 
 
 " During the directory, the government had order- 
 " ed my chapel to be closed ; and some time after 
 " commissioners were sent to desire that the reading 
 " of the Scriptures should be suppressed in my school. 
 " I inquired what books were to be substituted in 
 <' their stead. After some minutes conversation, 
 " they observed : Citizeness, you are arguing after 
 " the old fashion ; no reflections. The nation com- 
 « mands ; we must have obedience, and no reason- 
 ** ing." 
 
 On the 19th of March, 1S15, a number of papers 
 were left in the King's closet. Napoleon ordered 
 them to be examined, and among them was found the 
 letter written by madame Gampan to l.ouis XVIII., 
 immediately after the first restoration. In this letter 
 she enumerated the contents of the port-folio which 
 Louis XVI. had placed under her care. When Na- 
 C 
 
18 JOURNAL. 
 
 poleon read this letter, he said : «< Let it be sent to 
 the office of Foreign AflTairs, it is an historical docu- 
 ment." 
 
 " Formerly people used to run after parchments j 
 " because, through them they knew they could obtain 
 " any thing. Now they run after money ; for they 
 «' find that a more certain means of getting at what 
 " they want. Chimeras are vanishing, and things 
 '« are appreciated according to their real value." 
 
 In a private conversation with Napoleon respect- 
 ing the establishment of Ecouen, madame Campan 
 suggested the necessity of having firemen, " Your 
 vigilance must suffice to prevent accidents," replied 
 Napoleon. « Yes, sire, in ordinary cases, certainly ; 
 but can I avert the fire of heayen?" "You are 
 right," said he, and three firemen were immediately 
 appointed for the establishment. He saw at once the 
 truth of the observation. The hint was sufficient. 
 He had not thought of the circumstance himself; but 
 with him justice prevailed over self-love. 
 
 Napoleon conversing one day with madame Cam- 
 pan, at the Tuileries, said : " I acknowledge no other 
 titles than those which belong to personal merit ; they 
 who do not possess such distinctions are truly unfor- 
 tunate. The men by whom 1 am surrounded have 
 won their titles on the field of honour. They have 
 given sufficient proofs of their merit ; true nobility 
 is in their mind, and no where else. I have espous- 
 ed no party. Merit determines my choice. I am 
 the patron of talent." 
 
* JOURNAL, 19 
 
 Having visited Malmaison, during the consulate, 
 madanie Campan was led to the following reflections: 
 << What singular chance has brought me from the 
 " Tuileries to this abode of pomp and splendour ? 
 *' But on looking around me, I perceive a duke of 
 *^ the old stock, M. de L=^**=^**, who seems to be 
 «' much more out of place than myself. I came in 
 " fulfilment of my duties as governess to the younger 
 " branches of the family ; but surely this duke has 
 *' no business here ! I could not help remarking," 
 added madame Campan, " that your people of qua- 
 " lity are made for slavery. Their backs are so flex* 
 <' ible that they are never so happy as when they are 
 " bowing." 
 
 Madame Campan often told me that she had made 
 the fortune of M. d'Aubier, who, at a certain period,, 
 proved himself grateful. 
 
 She informed me that madame Murat one day said 
 to her : " I am astonished that you are not more 
 awed in our presence ; you speak to us with as much 
 familiarity as when we were your pupils !'' " The 
 " best thing yo J^ can do," replied madame Campan, 
 " is to forget your titles, when you are with me ; for 
 '« I can never be afraid of queens whom I have held 
 " under the rod." 
 
 Talma and his brother-in-law dined with madame 
 Campan, on their return from Rouen, in 1821. SJie 
 was delighted at the idea of seeing and conversing 
 with so distinguished a man as Talma. Her coun- 
 tenance beamed with joy ; and the pleasure she an=" 
 
20 JOURNAL. 
 
 ticipated seemed in some measure to compensate the 
 privations to which political circumstances subjected 
 her. *< I still retain," said she, " a taste for the truly 
 " beautiful. In spite of all my misfortunes, my spi- 
 '* rits will be revived and refreshed to-day. I re- 
 " quire to be roused, now and then, from the dejec- 
 " tion into which events have plunged me. The 
 " most heroic courage would be incapable of bearing 
 " up against the shocks which I have undergone. 
 " But during dinner I shall involuntarily forget all 
 *' my calamities, so much do I love talent, and all 
 '< that is connected with it. I will banish from my 
 " memory the injustice of man, and the causes which 
 *^ have produced it. It is generous to forgive, and I 
 " feel that I possess that virtue ; but yet one cannot 
 *' remove the scar, nor avoid feeling an occasional 
 <* pang. These things are said to depend on elec- 
 *^ tricity, set in motion by unascertainable causes. 
 " There is no accounting for v,-hat may break the 
 " heart ; and even if it were possible to do so, the 
 " result would not be the less fatal." 
 
 During dinner, madame Campan turned the con- 
 versation on the art of elocution ; and Talma made 
 some remarks on the subject, whicll rivetted the at- 
 tention of all present. *' Good delivery," said he, 
 "is applicable to every class of composition. This 
 art notwithstanding the powerful effects it produces, 
 is but too much neglected in France. It is indeed 
 quite in its infancy with us. It forms no part of 
 education, and is never thought of in our academies* 
 Yet it presents so many advantages, that I cannot 
 conceive how it should be lost sight of. What effect 
 can even a clever speaker produce, without good de- 
 
JOURNAI^. 21 
 
 livery. He merely fatigues his hearers. I could 
 name several men of high merit in the legislature, 
 who are intolerable, on account of their delivery ; 
 and similar examples may be found in the pulpit, 
 and at the bar. The sermons and speeches of some 
 of our most celebrated preachers and advocates have 
 occasionally dissatisfied me, owing to a want of just 
 harmony, between their mental and physical powers » 
 When the mind of the speaker was deeply impressed 
 with the truths he was expounding, he would betray 
 no external signs of conviction ; no change would be 
 observable in his features, nor would his voice soften 
 into the accents of persuasion. In Paris, party spi- 
 rit establishes the fame of public speakers ; but peo- 
 ple of judgment form their opinions differently from 
 the loungers of the drawing-room. 
 
 " The difficulties which the actor has to surmount, 
 are greater than those which present themselves to 
 the public orator. The latter has to express only 
 his own ideas ; when he speaks in public, it is al- 
 ways in his own character. But the actor is obliged 
 to model his mind, and even his body, according to 
 the received notion of the character and manner of 
 the individual he has to represent. 
 
 " How else would it be possible to pourtray ve- 
 hement passions, enormous vices, and exalted vir- 
 tues, or to devclope the distinctive traits belonging 
 to different characters. The actor is obliged, as it 
 were, to seize the spirit of the individual he has to 
 represent, in order that he may produce a living 
 personification of one of whom no other trace remains 
 on earth, save a few lines recorded by the pen of 
 C 2 
 
'J.'2 JOURNAL. - 
 
 histoiy. This task, I may truly say, demands vast 
 perseverance and study, 
 
 "Any dissonance between the thought, the look^ 
 and the gesture, destroys the illusion and defeats all 
 chance of success. The countenance should be a 
 mirror, reflecting distinctly all that passes in the 
 mind ; the voice, that powerful medium for the com- 
 munication of impressions, should be clear, flexible 
 and sonorous ; capable of expressing every feeling 
 of the heart. The movements of the body should 
 follow the same impulse j and the spectator should 
 recognise, in the harmony of the representation, the 
 perfect identity of the individual personified." 
 
 After dinner the company, withdrew for a short 
 time, to the drawing-room, and Talma soon set out 
 for Paris. When he had taken his leave, madame 
 Campan : said " What vast labour it must cost to 
 " to reach the high degree of perfection which Talma 
 " has attained ! I admire his talent ; I am enraptured 
 " with it. In him art has been employed only to 
 *' perfect nature. What exquisite taste and justness 
 " of perception he evinces. The contemplation of 
 *' such an actor on the stage, affords a useful lesson ; 
 "it is a spectacle which must inevitably tend to ele- 
 *'vate and enlarge the mind. Nature is sparing of 
 «' such extraordinary actors ; the eighteenth century 
 *^ gave birth to Le Kain ; the nineteenth has hitherto 
 " produced none but Talma." 
 
 I was informed by madame Campan, that a female 
 relative of the Empress Josephine received a letter 
 from an uncle, residing at a distance from Paris, so- 
 liciting a place for one of his relations, with the re« 
 
JOURNAL. 23 
 
 mark that one was bound in honour and in affection 
 to remember 07»^V family, Madame Campan ob- 
 served, that Napoleon's heart was too full of family- 
 affection. He wished his relations to share the good 
 fortune which he himself possessed; and this great 
 ambition for his family gave umbrage to Europe, 
 Had he been an only son, his affairs would probably 
 have taken a different turn. 
 
 In 1814, when Massena was presented at court, or 
 when he went to take leave of the King, on depart- 
 ing for his command at Marseilles, the great per- 
 sonages by whom his Majesty was surrounded, 
 cleared but very narrow space for him to pass 
 through. He had no sooner delivered a few words^ 
 than he found himself without the circle. Massena 
 was continually alluding to the clever way in which 
 they cut him off, and separated him from the King; 
 •'When I was on the field if battle," said he, '*I did not 
 employ so much dexterit in making my prisoners." 
 " Courtiers," observed madame Campan, « have a 
 "paramount interest in rendering the person of the 
 "sovereign inaccessible, so that every favour may 
 "fall upon themselves. They are a class of men who 
 " very well understand their own interests. 
 
 " I have been accused," said madame Campan^ 
 " of having bedaubed myself with dirt in my inter- 
 " course with the Buonaparte family ; but indivi- 
 *' duals who had greater reason to be fastidious — for 
 "example, the Emperors of Austria and Russia 
 *' scrupled not to do the same. I say nothing of 
 " nearly the whole of the old noblese, who thought 
 -' themselves highly honoured in being permitted to 
 
-t JOURNAL. 
 
 '( pay their court at the Tuileries, la 1810, who 
 " could have foreseen the fall of 1814 T' 
 
 About the period of madame Marat's marriage, 
 and while she was yet at Saint-Germain, Napoleon 
 observed to madame Campan : " I do not like those 
 love matches, between young people whose brains 
 are excited by the flames of the imagination. I had 
 other views for my sister. Who knows what high 
 alliance I might have procured for her ; she is 
 thoughtless, and does not form a just notion of my 
 situation. The time will come, when, perhaps, sove- 
 reigns might dispute for her hand. She is about to 
 marry a brave man ; but in my situation that is not 
 enough. Fate should be left to fulfil her decrees." 
 
 A gentleman informed madame Campan, that one 
 of her pupils, who, when at school, was remarkable 
 
 for beauty and intelligence, had not turned out well. 
 Madame Campan was filled with amazement. " I 
 assure you,'' added her informant, " you would be 
 shocked ; you could not endure to look at her." — 
 *•' Good Heavens, sir, what has happened f" — " Why, 
 madam, she has grown frightfully ugly !" — " Thank 
 *' God it is nothing worse I how could you alarm me 
 *' so V 
 
 When relating this anecdote, she added, in a lively 
 tone : '* I never announced, in my prospectus, that 
 " my plan of education would defend beauty against 
 '•' the ravages of age.'^ 
 
 During a journey which madame Campan made to 
 Brie, in 1818, her health improved astonishingly, and 
 
JOURNAL. 25 
 
 she wrote to me as follows : " I now take my meals 
 "•' like any one else. Judge how my spirits are re- 
 «' vived by this fortunate change ! How powerfully 
 *' does privation excite desire ! How heartrly I rer 
 " lished the first piece of bread I was able to eat ; for 
 " I had not tasted any for three years before. My 
 " mind feels the influence of my improved bodily 
 " health. I seem to have entered upon a new txis- 
 " tence ; I breathe freely j in short, you would 
 " scarcely know me. This troublesome org^n, the 
 " stomach, certainly acts an important part iu our 
 " svstem. Since mine has been roused from its tor- 
 " por, every thing goes on well. I have recovered 
 " the functions of existence just in time. I felt the 
 " edifice tottering ; but it has received a prop, and 
 " hope will fortiiy it completely. I now forgive you 
 " for the long journeys which you prescribe to your 
 " patients. Send ihcm all to the mineral springs. 
 " A jaunt of thirty leagues, and the influence oJ new 
 « circumstances, physical and moral, have been my 
 " remedies. The experiment has proved successfuU'^ 
 
 On her return home, after an absence of two months 
 madam Campan was overjoyed at having recovered 
 her health, the treasure which she most dearly priz- 
 ed. " Men run after fortune," she often said j " but 
 " they should rather run after health, or the means 
 " of preserving it. Without health all becomes in- 
 " different j even the affections of the heart. The 
 " passions die of themselves ; ambition vanishes j 
 « and man left to himself alone, sinks concentrated 
 <' in his own weakness. He can do nothing for 
 *< others j nor others do any thing for him. It is the 
 
26 JOURNAL. 
 
 « that he may form a notion of his real condition. 
 *^ Every thing escapes him, even the means of self- 
 ** preservation, and all tends to sink into annihilation. 
 «< The apprehensive mind looks forward only to un- 
 " certainty ; the illusions of imagination disappear ; 
 <' and reason stops short before the impenetrable bar- 
 << rier of futurity. The ideas dictated by men, and 
 <* supported by brilliant fancy, eloquent language, 
 <* and powerful reasoning, lose their value. The 
 " mind is like a frail bark on the troubled sea, which 
 *' is tossed about at the mercy of the winds, and may 
 '« be drifted one knows not whither. But we must 
 " submit ; it is the law of necessity, and even philo- 
 <' sophy knows no other." 
 
 Madame Campan resumed her natural gaiety, and 
 she enjoyed the delight of pouring forth the feelings 
 of her heart on the bosom of friendship. To com- 
 municate to those about her, all that passed in her 
 mind, was to her more than a pleasure j it was an ab- 
 solute Eecessity, « I should be wretched," said she, 
 <* if I were obliged to be reserved. My mind is es- 
 <i sentially communicative. When I am compelled 
 <* to lock up my desk, I am always annoyed, though 
 ^* I try not to appear so." 
 
 After dinner, madame Campan used to assemble 
 around her a little party of friends. This she found an 
 agreeable recreation ; for time occasionally seemed 
 to linger with her. a A country life is not all 
 *' pleasure," said she, « one can breathe freely here, 
 " to be sure ; .one can walk in the garden, or in 
 " fine weather repair to IMagnanville, or the Corde= 
 
journat:,. 27 
 
 " liers ;* and on returning home, one's appetite is 
 " good, and one's dinner ready. All this is very 
 " agreeable. The physical health is admirable ; but 
 " the mind is not so well provided for. There is a 
 " want of mental aliment. One cannot be always 
 ** reading and writing; something else is requisite: 
 " the news of the day, and the visits of people 
 « who mix in the world. The want of these two 
 " things occasions the great vacuity. By way of 
 " compensation, or for the gratification of eager and 
 " boundless curiosity, some people collect the news 
 "of the neighbourhood. This is bad taste; and in 
 *' the end, the heart gets corrupted in the school of 
 ** gossiping." 
 
 Madame Campan continued to enjoy tolerably 
 good health, from 1818 to 1821. During that in- 
 terval she completed the arrangement of her affairs, 
 and lived in competency on her remaining income, 
 an annuity of about 12,000 francs. But just as she 
 was beginning to enjoy her retirement, a new mis- 
 fortune assailed her. She lost her son Henry. In 
 the beginning of January, 1821, he visited Paris, for 
 the purpose of seeing his family, and making himself 
 acquainted with the novelties in science and the arts, 
 for which he had a great taste. 
 
 A few days after his arrival in Paris, M. Campan 
 was seized with a catarrh. The disorder at first 
 appeared under the most favourable symptoms ; but 
 in the space of four or five days, so serious a change 
 took place that no hopes were entertained for his re- 
 
 • Promenades in the neighbourhood of Mante«. 
 
28 JOURNAL. 
 
 covery. He wrote to his mother only two days be- 
 fore his death. When madarae Campan was made 
 acquainted with the loss she had sustained, the shock 
 was the more severe, because she had scarcely been 
 aware of her son's illness. His unexpected death, 
 joined to the distress she felt at not having been with 
 him in his last moments, produced such an effect on 
 her that her health thenceforward visibly declined. 
 Her life became an uninterrupted interval of pain ; 
 her appetite was irregular, and her sleep was dis- 
 turbed by dreams of her lost son. She saw him 
 every where. If left to herself but for a moment, his 
 beloved image was constantly before her. " True 
 ** sorrow" said she, <* finds consolation in beholding 
 « the portraits of those who have been dear to us. I 
 " doubt the sincerity of grief, when the resemblance 
 '' of a beloved object is banished from the sight. In 
 '' this world, mourning is a duty : time does not fly 
 " so swiftly as to exempt us from the fulfilment of 
 *'it." 
 
 Soon after this misfortune, madame Campan wrote 
 to one of her friends, as follows : — << you knew the 
 "amiable son whose loss I deplore. Alas! our ha- 
 <« bits seem to be the result of a kind of mechanism, 
 " acting involuntarily. Henry was often absent from 
 " me ; and sometimes I fancy he is still in Paris. 
 " But the illusion vanishes, and I exclaim : No, he 
 " is not absent, but lost ! lost for ever ! Then, again, 
 " I think I shall soon rejoin him." 
 
 Such a remarkable change was observable in ma- 
 dame Campan's health, about three months after the 
 death of her son, that I found the only means of 
 
JOURNAL. 29 
 
 rousing her from her depression of spirits, and her 
 indifference to all that was passing around her, was 
 to advise her to travel. To this she consented, but, 
 at the same time, said : — " Amusement and change 
 " of scene cannot revive a system which has received 
 " a mortal wound. My heart beats only to keep up 
 " my affliction, and to fill me with a distaste of life. 
 " In my son I have lost every thing. I seem to 
 " breathe only from the effect of habit. Nothing in 
 " this world can afford me pleasure. The charm of 
 «* existence has fled from me like a dream. Every 
 " object around me is enveloped in a gloomy veil. 
 "« Courage may endure any thing, when the mind 
 " only is afflicted ; but it cannot bear up against the 
 " sufferings of the heart. May heaven preserve you, 
 '^ my friend, from the misery which oppresses me. 
 " You see merely the surface of my sorrow. God 
 " alone knows its full depth. To express what I feel 
 " is impossible. There is, after all, something plea- 
 " sureable in my sensations. I cherish my grief, and 
 " the idea of death has even a certain charm. To 
 " rejoin my son is my only wish." 
 
 One morning, about a fortnight before her depar- 
 ture, madame Campan observed, that an indurated 
 gland which ehe had in her left breast had become 
 harder and more painful than usual. The idea of a 
 carreer immediately came across her mind, and she 
 began to be continually harassed with the picture 
 she had formed of that terrible disease. The appre- 
 hension of no other disorder would have produced 
 any impression on her. All the usual remedies were 
 instantly applied; but they had not the eflfect of di- 
 minishing the svmptoms of the disorder, which, how- 
 D 
 
^^ JOURNAL. 
 
 ever, made no further progress. It had been pre- 
 viously arranged, that madame Campan should travel 
 into Switzerland, and it was now determined that 
 she should try the mineral baths of Baden. At the 
 period fixed for her departure, the weather proved 
 unfavourable, and she went to pass three weeks at 
 Draveil, with madame Lambert, her niece. 
 
 The pleasure which, in spite of her dejection of 
 mind, madame Campan enjoyed in course of this 
 journey, and during her visit to one of her illustrious 
 pupils; the change of air and different mode of liv- 
 ing, all tended to encourage a hope that, by a rigid 
 observance of the prescribed treatment, the disorder 
 might be checked in its progress, if it could not be 
 abated. But all our hopes were disappointed. On 
 her return to France, in October, she again visited 
 Draveil and passed six weeks there. Her medical 
 attendant advised her to submit to an operation, 
 which he assured her would effect her cure. Ma- 
 dame Campan cheerfully embraced the suggestion. 
 A consultation was held, and the doctors being una- 
 nimous in their opinions, the operation was determined 
 on. Madame Campan had derived considerable bene- 
 fit from her journey. She had recovered some portion 
 of her cheerfulness. She wished to live -for the sake 
 of her family,, of which she was now the natural 
 head, and she had justly acquired a right to be so. 
 She looked to her relations, and to madame Voisin, 
 for motives to induce her to cherish existence. This 
 favourable change in madame Campan's health took 
 place while she was visiting the Duchess de Saint- 
 Leu, at Constance. 
 
 Madame Campan looked forward with impatience 
 
JOURNAL. 31 
 
 to the moment, when, to use her own expression, 
 the troublesome stone was to be removed from her 
 garden. 
 
 It was determined that the operation should take 
 place at the beginning of December. On the day 
 preceding that fixed for its performance madame 
 Campan said to me : — " I regret that I have not 
 *' completely revised my Memoirs. It is my parti- 
 " cular wish that they should be printed immediately 
 " after my death. They contain a justification of 
 " the conduct I have pursued, and which has been 
 " so greatly calumniated. I shall prove, by undeni- 
 " able facts, how unjustly I have been treated. I 
 " can also prove that, while worthless men consulted 
 " only the dictates of their corrupt hearts, I devoted 
 " myself wholly to the interests of the august vic- 
 " tims of 1793. They abandoned their sovereign to 
 " a lawless and irritated party ; while they ought all 
 " to have sacrificed themselves to save their king. 
 '< They can never wash away the stain that is upon 
 " them. 
 
 " I have related, in my Memoirs, only that which 
 " I myself observed. 1 never trusted to the versions 
 <* of news-mongers. The only witnesses I consulted 
 " were my own eyes; and they were too v/ell expe- 
 " rienced to aflord me any reason to doubt their 
 '< fidelity. My narrative is simple and unvarnished. 
 " 1 he Memoirs will develope the plain truth. They 
 "are intended to furnish materials for history, and 
 *' the slightest shade may deceive the historian. I 
 " have fulfilled my task with all possible candour. 
 *' If I had written about the government, I should 
 *' have expressed my opinions with sincerity, I have 
 
32 JOURNAL. 
 
 " considered myself perfectly neutral in relating the 
 " facts recorded in my Memoirs. I should have 
 "wished once more to revise my treatise on. the 
 ^' Education of Young Females ; for that work I 
 " consider to be the source of any little reputation 
 " which I may hereafter enjoy. I think it may be 
 " a useful assistant to mothers. In the course of my 
 *' long experience, I have collected a certain stock 
 « of information, which I will endeavour to render 
 " profitable, if God should be pleased to grant me 
 *' time. 
 
 " But a truce with reflections, my dear doctor ; 
 t' the hour of battle has arrived. I feel that I am 
 *' in possession of all my strength of mind. I shall 
 " see what fortitude will enable me to bear ; and 
 "whether the pain I am about to suffer will be 
 " greater than my resolution. My courage enabled 
 (f me to remain at the Tuileries on the 10th of Au- 
 "gust. Neither the cries of distress, nor the sight 
 " of blood terrified me. I prescved all my courage, 
 " and I could even have given useful advice in the 
 *' moment of danger. Come, no more delay ; all is 
 '• ready. I am tired of speaking of this affair, as if 
 " it were an event of history." 
 
 February 4th. — During the operation, Madame 
 Campan's countenance became pale ; but its expres- 
 sion never altered ; her eye uniformly retained its 
 calmness. JNl. Heymes, a colonel of artillery, one 
 of the heroes of the old army, assisted the surgeon, 
 M. Voisin. The colonel confessed, that during the 
 most sanguinary battles, in which he had been en- 
 gaged, he had never experienced any thing equal to 
 
JOURNAL. 33 
 
 what he felt during the performance of the operation. 
 Madame Campan evinced some signs of pain ; but 
 she uttered no complaint. The placidity of her mind 
 never forsook her on this trying occasion. 
 
 10th, — I need say nothing of Madame Campan's 
 health, from the time the operation was performed, 
 until the 4th of March, the period when the catarrhal 
 affection appeared. I shall merely relate the con- 
 versations which I had with her every morning 
 during my visits, which were frequently prolonged 
 for a considerable time. On the sixth day after the 
 operation, when she was able to talk without pain, 
 she said to me : — « I still, my dear doctor, possess 
 ' a little remnant of existence ; and I feel happy in 
 
 * being able to live without bearing about me a token 
 ' of remembrance, that 1 am about to quit the busy 
 ' world. The consciousness of approaching disso- 
 ' lution renders one melancholy, and the remaining 
 
 « span of life becomes an uninterrupted interval of 
 ' pain. With a little exertion of reason, our minds 
 ' are soon made up. Since Nature has ordained that 
 ' we shall resign the place we occupy, to make room 
 ' for another, it is proper that she should dispose of 
 'our lives, independently of our agency. We do 
 » not give ourselves life ; it is merely granted to us 
 'for our use, and every imprudence by which wc 
 
 * endanger it, is more or less criminal. The sacri- 
 
 * fice of pain is soon over. It is an expenditure of 
 
 * feeling which we must resolve to perform ; it is 
 ' indeed a duty. This has always been my view of 
 ' the case. My conduct has never been influenced 
 ' by any other rule." 
 
34 JOURNAL. 
 
 «' After the 18th fructidor, I found that my only 
 *' means of subsistence was to turn my talent to some 
 *' account. I opened a school at Saint-Germain. 
 " The establishment succeeded beyond my hopes. 
 " I had undertaken every thing on an extended scale, 
 *' and engaged the best masters from Paris. Such 
 " was my success, that I may truly say, this was the 
 *< happiest period of my life. 
 
 " During this prosperous interval, about the year 
 
 '< 1801, when I was superintending the education of 
 
 "the sisters and daughter-in-law of the First Con- 
 
 " sul, a person called on me, and requested that I 
 
 «' would grant him a private interview, as he had 
 
 " some secret business to communicate. I answered, 
 
 " that I would very readily hear what he had to say, 
 
 " if he had come to me on family business ; or, I 
 
 "added, if he had come to solicit my protection, I 
 
 " would do all I could for him, as I knew no greater 
 
 ''happiness than that of rendering service to persons 
 
 *' who were deserving of it. He then said, that he 
 
 "had business of the highest importance to commu- 
 
 " nicate to me. In that case, sir, said I, keep your 
 
 *' secret to yourself, for if it should relate to politics, 
 
 ** I assure you, I shall make the government ac- 
 
 " quainted with it. JNly visitor then took his leave, 
 
 ** and 1 never saw him again. I have always con- 
 
 «' eluded that he was an envoy from abroad, and 
 
 *' that, as i had declined receiving the communica- 
 
 ♦< tions he had to make to me, those who sent him 
 
 " never forgave the offence. 
 
 <* The important services which I rendered to the 
 ♦' King and Queen, did not apparently obliterate the 
 = f recollection of my threat to the stranger. I men- 
 
JOURNAL. 35 
 
 "tion this, only as a probability. To this circum* 
 "stance I likewise attribute all the vexations I have 
 " experienced of late years, from the emigrants. 
 " The inveterate spirit that has been manifested, 
 *< must have had some cause of excitement. But I 
 " have forgotten all these things. 1 hey recur to 
 " my mind only like historical incidents. 
 
 <' I have always made it a rule, to avoid taking 
 " any part in government affairs, or court secrets; 
 "for, by meddling in such matters, one receives no- 
 " thing but contempt, if not something worse. A 
 " woman who is desirous of maintaining respecta- 
 " bility, should direct her attention to her own pri- 
 " vate affairs, and confine her political conversation 
 "to a few intimate friends. This has always been 
 " my rule. To pursue a different course, is only for 
 "those who are thrown upon a forlorn hope." 
 
 11th. — Next day, madame Campan related to me 
 the following particulars: — <♦ A few days after the 
 <' battle of Paris, the Emperor Alexander came to* 
 <« visit Ecouen, and he did me the honour to break- 
 <* fast with me. After shewing him over the esta- 
 "blishment, I conducted him to the park, the most 
 "elevated point of which overlooked the plain of 
 <• Saint-Denis. Sire, said I, from this point 1 saw 
 " the battle of Paris. If^ replied the Emperor, that 
 " battle had lasted two hours longer, we should not 
 « have had a single cartridge at our disposal. We 
 « feared that we had been betrayed ; for on arriving 
 "so precipitately before Paris, all our plans were 
 "laid, and we did not expect the firm rcsisiance we 
 "experienced. I next conducted the Emperor to 
 
36 JOURNAt. 
 
 " the chapel, and shewed him the seats occupied by 
 
 " le coiinetahle (the constable) of Montmorency, and 
 " la connetable (the constable's lady,) when they 
 ** went to hear mass. Barbarians like us, observed 
 " the Emperor, would say la connitable and le cotic- 
 ^^ table, 
 
 "The Emperor inquired into the most minute 
 " particulars respecting the establishment of Ecouen, 
 " and I felt great pleasure in answering his ques- 
 " tif^s. I recollect having dwell on several points 
 « which appeared to me to be very important, and 
 " which were in their spirit hostile to aristocratical 
 « principles. For example, I informed his Majesty 
 " that the daughters of distinguished and wealthy 
 " individuals, and those of the humble and obscure, 
 " were indiscriminately confounded together in the 
 "establishment. If, said I, I were to observe the 
 ^' least pretention on account of the rank cr for- 
 " tune of parents, I should immediately put an end 
 " to it. The most perfect equality is preserved ; 
 " distinction is awarded only to merit and industry. 
 *« The pupils are obliged to cut out and make all 
 *« their own clothes. They are taught to clean and 
 " mend lace ; and two at a time, they by turns, three 
 " times a week, cook and distribute victuals to the 
 <' poor of the village. The young females who have 
 " been brought up at Ecouen, or in my boarding- 
 " school at Saint-Germain, are thoroughly acquaint- 
 <' ed with every thing relating to household busi- 
 " ness, and they are grateful to me for having made 
 " that a part of their education. In my conversa- 
 " tions with them, I have always taught them that on 
 <' domestic management depends the preservation or 
 
JOURNAL. 37 
 
 <* dissipation of their fortunes. I impress on their 
 *< minds the necessity of regulating with attention 
 *' the most trifling daily expenses ; but at the same 
 " time I recommend them to avoid making domestic 
 '' details the subject of conversation in the drawing- 
 *< room ; for that is a most decided mark of ill breed- 
 •' ing. It is proper that all should know how to do 
 ^' and to direct ; but it is only for ill-educated wo- 
 « men, to talk about their carriages, servants, wash- 
 *' ing and cooking. 
 
 '< These are the reasons, sire, why my pupils are 
 " generally superior to those brought up in other es- 
 *' tablishments. All is conducted on the most sim- 
 " pie plan ; the young ladies are taught every thing 
 *< of which they can possibly stand in need ; and 
 " they are consequently as much at their ease in the 
 " brilliant circles of fashion, as in the most humble 
 " condition of life. Fortune confers rank, but edu- 
 " cation teaches how to support it properly. 
 
 <' The monarch seemed to be interested in this 
 « conversation. He observed many points of resem- 
 « blance between the Maison d'Ecouen, and the es- 
 *< tablishment which his mother had founded at St. 
 " Petersburgh : but this was not surprising, for both 
 " institutions had been planned on the model of St. 
 " Cyr. 
 
 " The post-master of Ecouen was in the court- 
 " yard at the moment when the Emperor, as he 
 " stepped into his carriage, told me he would send 
 *« some sweetmeats for the pupils. I immediately 
 " communicated to them the intelligence, which was 
 "joyfully received ; but the sweetmeats were looked 
 « for in vain. When Alexander set out for England, 
 
58 JOURNAL. 
 
 " he changed horses at Ecouen, and the post-master 
 " said to him : 'Sire, the pupils of Ecouen are still 
 *' expecting the sweetmeats which your Majesty 
 << promised them.' To which the Emperor replied, 
 "'that he had directed Saken to send them.' The 
 ^' Cossacks had most likely devoured the sweetmeats, 
 " and the poor little girls, who had been so highly 
 <« flattered by the promise, never tasted them." 
 
 12th — " Prince Talleyrand, in a remarkable speech 
 •"• which he delivered in the Chamber of Deputies, in 
 "1821, expressed, in a single phrase, the whole spirit of 
 "policy. «I know,' said he, ' where there is more wis- 
 " dom than in Napoleon, or Voltaire, or in any minis- 
 « ter, present or future; it is in public opinion.' I was 
 <f struck with the justice of these few words. They 
 « told more than a whole treatise on the subject. 
 *< What is the resting point of policy ? Public opinion. 
 *« Has it any other basis ? Surely reason admits of 
 <« no other. What should we think of the minister 
 f* who follows any other guide ? Silence may be 
 « commanded, it is true ; but events will run coun- 
 « ter to that command. Public opinion cannot be 
 <^ contraled. It must be followed, for it is al- 
 <« ways advancing. The brilliant light of the torch 
 " may be dimmed, but it camot be extinguished. It 
 ** is not to be found in the sneers of court ladies, nor 
 « in the breviary of the Jesuits. Observe the con- 
 «duct of a selfish politician : he seeks every oppor- 
 '< tunity to consult the favour of those in power. He 
 << is satisfied if he can give proofs of his devotedness; 
 *« no matter on what conditions." 
 
JOURNAL. 39 
 
 14th. — While madame Campan was at the head 
 of the establishment at Ecouen, some of the ladies, 
 appointed to superintend the different classes, com- 
 plained of certain regulations to which they were 
 subjected. Madame Campan said to them : " Per- 
 " mit roe, ladies, to inform you, that this establish- 
 ** ment was not founded either for the superinten- 
 " dant who is at the head of it, or for the ladies en- 
 ** gaged to assist her. It was instituted solely for 
 «' the pupils ; for if there were no pupils here, you 
 " and I would be useless." 
 
 " It is the same with subjects," said madame Cam- 
 pan, addressing herself to me, " if they did not exist, 
 " kings would be as useless on their thrones as I 
 ** should have been at Ecouen, if there had been no 
 " pupils there. Authority is merely a consequence ; 
 *' it emanates from the people, and cannot exist with- 
 " out them. When a king treats his subjects ill, he 
 " abuses the power which they have confided in him. 
 " Let a sovereign go to England, and he becomes a 
 " private man ; he loses his authority in the eyes of 
 " the English : but on his return to his own domi- 
 " nions, the nation invests him with the supremacy. 
 " That which is the mere gift of men, is declared by 
 '' bigots and parasites to be descended from heaven, 
 *' But knowledge is now so diffestd, that the empire 
 *' of fanaticism must end. By the help of reason, 
 " every one knows his duty." 
 
 " I have been asked, by many persons, whether 
 " I have not been engaged in writing Memoirs on 
 " Napoleon and his Court. My answer has been, 
 •< that this task is reserved for those v/ho lived in 
 
40 JOURNAL, 
 
 ^' his household, or who had frequent access to him, 
 ** that I had undertaken to describe the private life 
 " of Marie Antoinette, and that I should du no more. 
 *' I never made a single memorandum relative to the 
 ^< splendid and martial court, which Napoleon held 
 " at the Tuileries." 
 
 In the course of conversation with me, raadame 
 Campan also made the following remarks : — " Na- 
 " poleon's genius elevated him ; but his temper 
 «« proved his ruin. A restless, ambitious, reserved 
 <« and hasty temper, united with imperial power, was 
 '' naturally calculated to give offence te those who 
 "approached him. Human vanity is a delicate 
 *« string, which should be touched with the greatest 
 " caution. Napoleon conceived that his vast power 
 "exempted him from the forms which engage the 
 <( love of subjects, and call forth sentiments of at- 
 *f tachment. He seemed to think that he was suffi- 
 "cient to himself, and the many imperfections which 
 « he observed in mankind, rendered him somewhat 
 " misanthropic. This disposition caused him to feel 
 « the ingratitude of many persons, because he mor- 
 " tified their vanity ; and the vanity of the great, 
 " when it is once wounded, never forgives. He 
 *«knew how to govern his subjects, and Europe ; 
 « but he could never govern himself : so true it is, 
 " that all great men have a weak point. He was 
 *< brave, generous, and magnanimous, and prized 
 '^ glory beyond all things; but unfortunately, he 
 "could never conquer his passions. His luminous 
 " understanding had no influence on his temper. His 
 " genius gained him admirers ; but his neglect of 
 " forms made him entmies. His admirers were far 
 
JOURNxiL, 41 
 
 *''from his person, and his enen^ies were about him. 
 « A lady of the Innperial Court remarked, that Na- 
 ** poleon was a piece of patch-work, made up of parts 
 <* of a great and a common man. He wished that 
 << women should attend to their family affairs, and 
 « not interfere with politics. The influence of the 
 ^' mistresses of Louis XV. alarmed him. He thought 
 " women might be commanded like an army. He 
 *^ little knew their restless, insinuating, inquisitive 
 " and persevering spirit, and the direct influence they 
 '* exercise over their husbands. He did not seem to 
 " understand women ; they never relinquish their 
 " privileges." 
 
 16th.— As madame Campan was returning from 
 Switzerland, she paid a visit to a duchess, who had 
 been educated at Saint Germain, and who addressed 
 the following remarks to her : <* I never enjoyed so 
 much happiness as since I have returned to my coun- 
 try residence. I have forgotten my title since I have 
 retired hither, and 1 have not been the same creature 
 that I was before. My head was full of chimerical 
 fancies. The title of baron begins to disorder the 
 mind ; that of count produces a certain degree of im- 
 becility ; and a dukedom absolutely turns the brain. 
 I know not what effect higher distinctions produce; 
 but I suppose they complete the moral derangement. 
 This progression is exact, and the result positive. 
 All whom I have known to possess titles have expe- 
 rienced the same fate as myself. I pity them if they 
 have not had courage to resume possession of their 
 reason." 
 
 *' These observations," said madame Campan, 
 •■' shewed a justness of thinking, which pleased me 
 E 
 
42 JOURNAL. 
 
 " exceedingly. There appeared to me to be more 
 " philosophy in these few words, than I have met 
 " with in the arguments of most of the men who pro- 
 ** fess themselves to be the disciples of Socrates. 
 " What is there in a title ? It serves only to feed 
 <*and inflate human vanity. This system of distinc- 
 " tion,. which is the original sin of politics ; — this 
 *' food of vanity, so disgusting to the understanding, 
 "gives rise to pretensions of superiority over men 
 « who do not possess titles, or who only possess them 
 " in a lower degree. Can any thing be more absurd 
 « and ridiculous, than to suppose that the nick-names 
 <« of baron, count, &c. afford grounds for assuming 
 " advantages over other men ? This is madness, 
 "pure madness. On this subject, Mirabeau said: 
 «* ' two things are necessary to make a citizen a noble- 
 " man ; first, that he should declare himself to be so, 
 " and next, that those to whom he makes the decla- 
 '* ration, should be willing to believe him. Were it 
 " not for these two conditions, nobility would have 
 "no existence.' In the time of the Constituent As- 
 " sembly, this very just observation of Mirabeau's 
 "was repeated throughout Paris." 
 
 Madame Campan dined at the Tuileries in com- 
 pany with the Pope's nuncio, at the period when the 
 Concordat was in agitation. During dinner, the 
 First Consul astonished her, by the able manner in 
 which he conversed on the subject under discussion. 
 She said, he argued so logically that his talent quite 
 amazed her. 
 
 17th. — " I formerly," said madamc Campan, « en- 
 
jOUPwNAL. 43 
 
 ' joyed a high degree of court favour. When I was 
 ' in child-bed, previously to the birth of my poor 
 ' Henry, four couriers were waiting at my house in 
 ' Paris, to convey intelligence of my delivery to 
 
 * Versailles. One was sent by Louis XVI., one by 
 ' the Queen, one by monsieur, now Louis XVI IL, 
 
 < and one by the Princesses. Things have changed 
 ^< since then : such is the course of human afTairs. I 
 
 ' knew real happiness only at Saint-Germain ; and I 
 ' have enjoyed tranquillity only since I have lived at 
 
 < Mantes. 
 
 « I have frequently heard the attendants of priuce- 
 'ly personages cry out to the people, hats o£ 1 
 'This is a piece of folly. These marks of courtesy 
 ' should be inspired, not exacted. Confidence is 
 ' not purchased, it is given ; and in like manner, re- 
 ' spect should be given and not commanded. When 
 ' people are happy, they do spontaneously that, 
 ' which under other circumstances authority must 
 "compel. An experienced eye can judge with ra- 
 
 * pidity, it never takes a mistaken view of public 
 
 * opinion." 
 
 <« Good company operates, as it were, both by at- 
 •' traction and affinity," said madame Campan ; " woe 
 < to him who forsakes it : for he is out of his place 
 ' every where else, even in bad company." 
 
 18th. — " So long as reason is looked upon as se- 
 ^ dition, you will have among you the seeds of revo- 
 ' lution ; for reason can be regarded in this light 
 « only by a party who wish to reign without it. People 
 ^ cannot, now-a-days> live without the help of rea- 
 
44 JOURNAL. 
 
 *' son ; and if her empire be not restored, discussions 
 '.' will be constantly arising, and they may lead to 
 *< greater lengths than are expected. Fables are no 
 '' longer in fashion. Words can no longer be sub- 
 *« stituted for things. The cloak of hypocrisy can 
 *' no longer be employed to cover vice : the spirit of 
 " the age has stripped it off. This is very unfortu- 
 " nate for antiquated prejudices ; but they n^ust 
 " yield to circumstances. Errors which the progress 
 <* of information has banished for ever, cannot be 
 <« forced back upon the human mind at the point of 
 " the bayonet. Ambitious pretensions have now to 
 " contend with insurmountable obstacles ; they may 
 " yet do much mischief, but they must ultimately 
 << yield. Those who support them afe combating 
 ** against reason and truth, and they know it. They 
 ** colour their sophisms with a pretended wish for 
 " peace and tranquillity. The air of benevolence 
 <« which they assume is merely pretended. Therr 
 « hearts are the prey of ambition. They condemn 
 *« as revolutionary every thing which opposes their 
 «' views. The force of things presents the obstacle 
 ** of which they complain. I am not to blame be- 
 ** cause events have enlightened my mind; the events 
 « must be blamed for that. But why were these 
 *< events suffered to take place ? Because they could 
 <* not be prevented. Neither is it possible to pre- 
 «< vent the progress of reason. The men who would 
 << attempt to oppose it, have yet to begin their edu- 
 <^' cation ; and in order to acquire a good one, they 
 " should imitate the stock-jobbers, and follow the 
 " general impulse. If they contend against the 
 « stream, their ruin is certain. Obstinate people are 
 
JOURNAL. 45 
 
 *^ there looked upon as mad ; and proofs of their 
 " madness are soon acquired. Matters are speedily 
 <« settled there. It is a longer process in politics 
 " but the result is the same." 
 
 Madame Campan related to me a fact so extraor- 
 dinary, that I cannot refrain from recording it here. 
 The Marchioness de Forges, whose husband was 
 grand falconer, resided at Versailles, in the year 177B. 
 The Marchioness was pregnant and .during child- 
 birth some unpleasant intelligence was communicated 
 to her. If I recollect rightly, she was informed that 
 one of her houses had been burnt down. The pains 
 of child-birth immediately ceased, and the Marchio- 
 ness continued pregnant for the space of twenty-five 
 years. At the expiration of that period she died ; 
 and on her body being opened, the child was found 
 petrified. A few years previous to her death, the 
 Marquess de Crequi said to her, ia a drawing-room : 
 *' Madam I think you would do well to swallow a 
 tutor for your son ; his beard must be ber^inning to 
 grow by this time." 
 
 19th.— .The abbeB*** one day told madame Cam- 
 pan that, during his residence in Italy, he frequently 
 saw in the public streets monks of various orders, 
 mounted on chairs or planks of wood, preaching, or 
 holding conferences. When these conferences took 
 place in the churches, a Christ, as large as a child, 
 whose head was made to move by means of a spring, 
 was supported by one of the chorister boys, conceal- 
 ed within the pulpit. During these conferences, the 
 priests addressed the Christ, and inquired whether 
 E 2 
 
46 JOURNAL. 
 
 he would permit or forgive such or such things ; and 
 by help of the spring, which was moved by the boy, 
 the Christ bowed in token of assent, or shook his 
 head by way of disapproval, just as the priest thought 
 proper to determine. • 
 
 « When M. B^*^ told us this, I said ; never re- 
 *' peat such a story again. I cannot conceive that 
 <« the clergy would tolerate things of a nature cal- 
 *' culated to turn into ridicule the most holy of all 
 ** religions. ' These facts,' replied the abbe, ' are 
 <* well known to travellers. At Naples they make 
 " St. Januarius weep. I only relate what I saw. 
 
 " The abbe B*** was a roan of distinguished cha- 
 *< racter, and of great piety. The above conversation 
 " was brought about by some remarks relative to the 
 " conferences of the abbe Frayssinous, which made 
 ** a great noise at that time. Government did not at 
 *' first perceive the powerful impression which the 
 « talent of the preacher produced on the public mind. 
 " He rendered important services to our sovereign." 
 
 20th. — " On the day after the publication of the 
 *' ordinance for the expulsion of the Jesuits, M. Cam- 
 «' pan, my father-in-law, met Dr. Quesnay in the 
 <* grand gallery of Versailles, and saia to him : ' Well, 
 «< what think you of the Jesuits !' Hush ! my friend,' 
 ^' answered M. Quesnay, ' we must not raise the cry 
 '' of victory yet. Three days must elapse before a 
 <' dead man be considered as really dead ; these 
 *< wicked rogues may come to life again.' Forty 
 '* years afterwards the miracle dreaded by the doctor 
 « was fulfilled." 
 
 <* M. D***, who had been an attorney, and who 
 
JOURNAL. 47 
 
 " professed ultra principles, was an intimate ac- 
 «' quaintance of M. M***, a liberal. One day as 
 <t they were dining together, the conversation turned 
 " on politics, and each warmly supported his opin- 
 " ion. M. M''^** said to his friend, since I cannot 
 << convince you by the force of reason and facts, and 
 " since you persist in maintaining that past times 
 " were preferable to the present, I will assume my 
 " title of count which has descended to me from the 
 " year 1400, and when you come to visit me, I will 
 " order a cover to be laid for you in the kitchen, 
 " We shall then both be in our right places ; for, 
 " according to your system, I compromise my dig- 
 « nity by sitting at the same table with you. I shall 
 " be Monsieur le Comte^ having the honour to ride 
 " in the King's carriages, and you will be Monsieur 
 « le Procureur^ with humble countenatice, back bent, 
 " and hat in hand. You shall not enter my drawing- 
 " room till after you have have performed the cere- 
 " mony of attendance in the anti-chamber ; and you 
 " shall not seat yourself in my presence. Let us 
 " come to a right understanding on this point. It 
 " is generosity and pure attachment to principle, 
 *t that induce me to divest myself of one of "he high- 
 « est gratifications of pride and vanity ; for all men 
 " have their share of both. I make the sacrifice 
 *' which reason dictates to me as a duty. Who is 
 " the better for it ? You and all the plebeian class. 
 «« But if you persist in adhering to your principles, 
 '* you must explain your grounds for maintaining 
 <« them. Mine are already known. J am a loser, 
 " and you are a gainer. You are certainly influenc- 
 « ed by some after thought," 
 
48 JOURNAL. 
 
 Napoleon used to say, that sobrietv and continence 
 were indispensible qualities in a military man. Ma- 
 dame Campan quoted this observation, and added a 
 remark made by her nephew, Marshal Ney, when 
 in Spain, to another Marshal, who had a mistress : 
 *' Such an aide-de-camp as you now possess, will cost 
 your armv ten thousand men." 
 
 21st. — " The ultras would have attached them- 
 *' selves to the liberals, if the latter had gained the 
 « ascendency ; because they would still have been 
 " counted for something ; hut the liberals, by con- 
 <' necting themselves with the ultras, would only 
 " have strengthened them, without gaining the least 
 *« advantage in return." 
 
 A lady connecred with the establishment of Saint- 
 Dennis, told madame Campan that Napoleon visited 
 it during the hundred davs, and that the pupils were 
 so delighted to see him, that they crowded round 
 him, endeavouring to touch his clothes, and evinced 
 the most extra\agant demonstrations of joy. The 
 matron endeavoured to silence them but Napoleon 
 said. — ^' Let them alone, let them alone. This may 
 weaken the head, but it strengthens the heart." 
 
 One dav, during the Consulate, madame Campan 
 dined at IVIalmaison, and after the coffee had been 
 handed round, several members of public bodies ga- 
 thered about Napoleon, and tried to prevail on him 
 to distrust the Jacobins, as being a ver^* dangerous 
 set of men. After hearing what they had to say, 
 he replied : — '•' It appears to me, that you do not 
 
JOUKNAL„ 4b^ 
 
 rightly know what a Jacobin is. He is nnerely an 
 ambitious fellow, in search of a place. I shall, there- 
 fore, give places to the Jacobins and make them hold 
 their tongues. 
 
 *^ Do you know," said madame Campan to me, 
 " what the Ultras of the present day consist of ? I 
 <• will tell you. They are a set of men who are re- 
 " solved on procuring places, cost what they will, 
 " They care not what sacrifices they incur to obtain 
 « their ends. They are determined, at all risks, to 
 <f play their part in state affairs. To obtain a place 
 *( during the republic, it was necessary that a man's 
 " previous conduct should be the pledge of his princi- 
 *' pies. The ultra system requires pledges; but Napo- 
 *' leon looked only to merit. He extinguished parties* 
 ff There was no ground on which fools could evince 
 << dissatisfaction 9 and they were tired of raising par- 
 " ty cries." 
 
 22d. — " M, Brunier, the court physician, was call- 
 " ed to attend madame B***, at Versailles. That 
 <' distinguished lady was then far adavnced in life, 
 " and in a bad state of health. After considering 
 " her case, the doctor jokingly said ; « What can I do 
 << madam ? when the oil is exhausted, the lamp must 
 " die out,' < A physician,' replied the lady, * should 
 <' at least have sufficient sense and humanity ; to 
 « speak less plainly 1 do not want proverbs, but mere- 
 " ly consolation if there be no other remedy.' 
 
 " This same M, Brunier was physician to the chil- 
 « dren of the royal family j and during his visits to 
 <« the palace, if the death of any of his patients hap- 
 *< pened to be alluded to, he never failed to say * 
 « — * Ah ! there I lost one of my best friends. 
 
50 JOURNAL. 
 
 " Well,' said the Queen, < if he loses all his patients^ 
 <« who are his friends ; what will become of those 
 " who are not his friends ?' " 
 
 " A petition was drawn up, and addressed to the 
 " Queen, by the people of a corporation in the neigh- 
 <« bourhood of Paris, in which they prayed for the 
 *' destruction of the game which destroyed their 
 « farming crops. I was myself the bearer of this pe- 
 " tition to her Mtijesty, who said to me : — ' I will 
 '< undertake to have these good people relieved from 
 « so burthensome an annoyance.' She gave the do- 
 " cument herself to M. de Vermont, in my presence 
 " accompanying it with these words ; < / desire that 
 *' immediate justice be done to this petition.* An as- 
 " surance was given that her order should be attcn- 
 «' ded to. Six weeks afterwards, a second petition 
 " was sent from the corporation ; for the nuisance, 
 *« after all had not been abated. Thus ar^ sovereigns 
 *' deceived ! 
 
 " I am persuaded," added madame Campan," that 
 " if the second petition had reached the Queen, JM. 
 " de Vermont would have received a sharp repri- 
 « mand. She was always so happy when it was in her 
 << power to do good, that to deprive her of any thing 
 '« of the kind, was really an act of barbarity. 
 
 " Previously to the 10th of August, 1792, the 
 *< Queen frequently kept me by her bed-side, after 
 " she had retired, that we might talk over public 
 « events. Her Majesty, in taking a review of them, 
 " used to express a presentiment of their results. 
 " But, madame, said I, a door of escape from this 
 
JOURNAL. SI 
 
 " perilous place is pointed out to you — do not, then, 
 " I beseech you, continue here. ♦ History is busy 
 " with us/ replied the Queen, * we neither can, nor 
 <( ought to, accept the offers made to us. Were 
 " death itself the consequence, we cannot consent to 
 " be saved by the men who have possessed them- 
 " selves of our authority.' ' Madam,' said I, < his- 
 " tory will take her own course j only save yourself 
 " and family in the first place.' The page of history 
 «* was ever present to the mind of her Majesty : so 
 «' true is it that misfortune is not to be fled from." 
 Madame Campan was very much affected whilst 
 relating to me this conversation. 
 
 Madame Campan used to observe : « A man 
 " should be in the world what a good book is in a 
 « library, an object always seen with interest and 
 " pleasure, and from whose acquaintance wq never 
 « fail to gain something." 
 
 « From the situation in which the government has 
 *' placed the aristocracy, or the ultras, (for the terms 
 *' are synonymous) they are supported entirely by 
 " the people. Their feet rest on the shoulders of 
 ^( the plebeia»is. If the latter should move, the for- 
 «« mer would be thrown from their places, and redu- 
 ** ced to their proper level. This is the whole mys- 
 «■ tery. These gentlemen think of nothing but des- 
 " potism ; but do they wish it to be exercised over 
 'i themselves ? No, indeed, they are not such fools. 
 " For whom, then, do they want it ? If they were 
 <' themselves to be the victims of this much talked of 
 " despotism, they would, instead of favouring it, op- 
 
52 JOURNAL. 
 
 "pose it with all their might ; for the first wish of 
 " man is to say : I am free, I bow to no authority, 
 '« except the law. But they would employ despotism 
 <* to secure every advantage to thenvselves. Let eve- 
 *« ry citizen, who falls in with the ideas of the aris- 
 " tocracy, reflect that they are deluding him only to 
 ^( employ him as a tool. Let him only ask himself, 
 « when they get all they want, what will they give 
 " me ? He will soon find himself caught in their 
 " nets and will have no alternative but to be their 
 *' very humble slave. I have heard several distin- 
 " guished individuals complain of the resistance 
 <« their party has experienced, and I said to them ; 
 " You are preaching in favour of a saint, who is no 
 « longer the idol of the nation ; and even if the peo- 
 <* pie were to invoke him, every favour would be dis- 
 " pensed to you. People are too wise, now-a-days,^ 
 " to amuse themselves in praying for others. If it 
 " were not very much to your advantage, you would 
 " not pursue your object so perseveringly. Weie it 
 " not that the government lends you strength, you 
 « would,-in spite of your efforts, be hurled into the 
 " dust of the consulate ; thus, you see on what your 
 <* power depends. Even though you should succeed 
 " in completing the imprudent task youtiave begun, 
 «' you will have to wage continual war in order to 
 '« keep an enlightened nation in tutelage : this would 
 « be no easy matter. Parchments cannot change 
 " men's natures. Pretensions confer no moral or 
 *' physical quality, except folly. You wnsh to enjoy 
 " tranquillity at the expense of the liberties of the 
 «' people ; but they will never submit to that. The 
 " revolution has tried your cause, and your appeal 
 <« will be rejected." 
 
JOURNAL. 53 
 
 Madame Regnier, the wife of a law officer of Ver- 
 sailles, while talking in the presence of a numerous 
 party assembled at her own house, dropped some re- 
 marks which were out of place though not very im- 
 portant. Her husband reprimanded her before the 
 whole company saying: " silence, madam, you are a 
 fooK" She lived twenty or thirty years after this 
 and never uttered a single word, even to her children. 
 A pretended theft was committed in her presence, 
 in the hope of taking her by surprise but without ef- 
 fect ; and nothing could induce her to speak. When 
 her consent was requisite for the marriage of any of 
 her children, she bowed her head and signed the 
 contract. Such an instance of resolute obstinacy was 
 never known ; her vanity never forgave the affront. 
 She must have had her due share of self-conceit. 
 
 23. — M. de Beaumont, chamberlain to the Empress 
 Josephine, was one day at Malmaison, expressing 
 his regret that M. D.*^=^, one of Napoleon's gene- 
 rals who had recently been promoted, did not belong 
 to a great family. '^ You mistake, sir," observed 
 madame Campan, " he is of very ancient descent ; he 
 *« is one of the nephews of Charlemagne. All the 
 " heroes of our army sprang from the elder branch 
 " of that sovereign's family who never emigrated. 
 
 When madame Campan related this circumstance 
 to me, she added : «' After the SOth of March, 1814, 
 " some officers of the army of Conde presumed to 
 ^' say to certain French marshals, that it was a pity 
 << they were not more nobly connected. In answer 
 «' to this one of them said : ' True nobility, gentle- 
 <' men, consists in giving proofs of it. The field of 
 F 
 
54 JOURNAL. 
 
 *« honour has witnessed ours ; but, where are we to 
 " look for yours ? Your swords have rusted in their 
 '« scabbards. Our laurels may well excite envy ; we 
 " have earned them nobly, and we owe them solely 
 " to our valour. You have merely inherited a name. 
 <* This is the distinction between us." 
 
 Madame Campan used to say, *< Politeness is a 
 " coin which causes many imperfections to be over- 
 " looked. On leaving home, one should fill one's 
 '• pockets with it, in pieces of various values, so 
 " that it may be paid out in any requisite amount. 
 « He who provides himself with it only on particular 
 " occasions, will find that he has rarely any to use." 
 
 Madame Campan several times shewed me the au- 
 tograph copy of a letter, written by Louis XIV., to 
 his grandson, Philip V. of Spain. This letter, of 
 which I made a literal copy, is as follows : 
 
 " Versailles, August 20th, 1704. 
 " I am sorry to hear of the capture of Gibraltar ; 
 but I think it will be difficult for the enemy to fix 
 himself securely in a place destitute of any safe port 
 or road, and for which supplies can be obtained only 
 from the sea. It is important that you should prevent 
 the enemy from establishing himself in Castile, or 
 Estramadura ; he would defend, with his utmost 
 strength, the towns which he might take in those pro- 
 vinces. You must ascertain whether you can withdraw 
 troops from your frontiers, without too far reducing 
 the strength of your army ; and in that case you will 
 do well to form a detachment strong enough to re- 
 cover Gibraltar as speedily as possible. If you can- 
 
JOURNAL. OO 
 
 not do so, tins expedition must be deferred until an- 
 oiiier time ; and in the meanwhile, the marquess de 
 Villadareas, with the troops he commands and those 
 which you send him from Madrid, may pre\ ent the 
 further advance of the enemy. 
 
 ** Yon ask for my advice, and I send it you; but 
 the best counsel is useless, if it be not solicited or 
 followed until the mischief takes place. It is often 
 more easy to prevent than to remedy an evil, and I 
 regret to say, that I foresee strange perplexities if 
 you do not establish some kind of order in the ma- 
 nagement of your affairs. You have hitherto reposed 
 your chief confidence in incompetent or interested 
 individuals. I recommend you to get rid of Cava- 
 les. I recal Ozzy ; but on your part I experience 
 resistance and opposition to this measure. You see 
 the fruit of these men's labour, in the state of your 
 armies and fortresses, yet it appears to me, that their 
 interest wholly occupies you : and at a moment when 
 you should be engaged in the most enlarged views, 
 you are looking down on the cabals of the princess of 
 the Ursins, with which I am continually annoyed. 
 
 " I am convinced of your sincerity ; but if unfor- 
 tunately you should forfeit that virtue which natural- 
 ly belongs to you^ still I think that you love me, and 
 that you love the interests of your people too well to 
 deceive me. I therefore fully credit your assurance, 
 that you will really follow my advice. Profit, I en- 
 treat vou, by the counsel which I now offer you, and 
 wjiich is dictated by those feelings of friendship and 
 affection which I shall never cease, to cherish for you. 
 
 *' You cannot possibly succeed, while your affairs 
 continue in their present state of disorder. Appoint 
 
56 JOURNAL. 
 
 a wise and enlightened council. The Duke dc; 
 Grammont will name to you the individuals, who, in 
 my opinion, are competent to be raembtrs of it. Do 
 not delay calling them together, consult them on all 
 matters relating to war, finance, and general politics ; 
 avail yourself of their information and experience, 
 and issue no order v, ith w hich they are not previously 
 made acquainted. 
 
 " When I see this council v/ell established, I shall 
 feel more confidence in sending you the aid of which 
 you stand in need ; but until this measure be adopted, 
 I have but too much reason to consider the troops 
 which I send into Spain as lost. All that I do for 
 you appears to be useless j and though I earnestly 
 desire to support you, yet you will place it out of my 
 power to do so, if this disorder should continue. 
 Shew that Spain possesses a king and a council ; that 
 the sovereign authority is in your hands ; and that 
 the individuals who have abused your confidence, 
 are not the rulers cf the monarchy. 
 
 " I never recommended to your Majesty any thing 
 inimical to your real glory, and the interest of your 
 states. That you should labour to promote that 
 glory and interest is the only reward I ask for all I 
 do, and for all the affection I cherish towards you. 
 
 " (Signed} l.ouis." 
 
 <'• I have already requested that you will restore 
 the marquess de Rivas to ail his official functions. 
 I again repeat my request, because I conceive the re- 
 instatement of the marquess to be essential to your 
 interest; and I expect to ste ray solicitation com- 
 plied with, since you have expressed a willingness to 
 be guided by my advice.'' 
 
JOURNAL. 57 
 
 Madame Campan sometimes remarked that " cour- 
 " tiers belong to the person of their sovereign, as peo- 
 " pie belong to their native soil. Courtiers live on 
 " the sovereign, as people live on the land that gives 
 " them birth. 
 
 " Sovereigns," she added, " are never willing to 
 <* acknowledge the faults they have committed. They 
 " always seek and find an apology. But facts will 
 " not be viewed in this way by history ; no healing 
 " balsam will be applied there." 
 
 " When in Switzerland, in the year 1821, we met 
 " at our hotel two English travellers. They happen- 
 <' ed to dine in the same apartment with us, and 
 '< while we were seated at our respective tables, the 
 " younger of the two Englishmen said to his friend : 
 *< who are those two old women ? meaning Madame 
 " Voisin* and me. I stopped them short, by telling 
 " them, that I understood English, or heaven knows 
 '' what compliments they might have passed on our 
 " wrinkled faces at 69 ! I thought this was the wis- 
 '* est course. A woman's love of coquetry does not 
 <* decline with her charms : the merest trifle wounds 
 " her vanity. I was in the right, Voisin, was I not I 
 " said she, laughing. Those gallants would have 
 " treated us as rudely as time has done." 
 
 24th. — " On the 3d of June, 1811, Napoleon ac- 
 
 • Madame Voisin was connected with Madame Campan for the space 
 of thirty years, during which period she shared her good and bad fortune 
 ■with the tenderest affection. There have been few examples of such 
 profound attachment. Madame Voisin did not surviTe the loss of her 
 friend. 
 
 J 2 
 
58 JOURS'AL. 
 
 ^< companied by Maria Louisa and several person- 
 " ages of distinction, visited the establishment at E- 
 " coum. After inspecdng the chapel and the refec- 
 *« tories, Napoleon desired that the three principal 
 «' pupils might be presented Xo him. Sire, said I, I 
 " cannot select three, I must present six. He turned 
 " on his heel, and repaired to the platform, where, 
 " after seeing^ all the classes assembled, he repeated 
 " his demand. Sire, said I, I beg leave to inform 
 " your Majesty that I should commit an injustice to- 
 ** wards several other pupils, who are as far advanced 
 " as those whom I might have the honour to pre- 
 << sent to you. 
 
 " Berthier and others intimated to me, in a low 
 " tone of voice, that I should get into disgrace by my 
 <' non-compliance. Napoleon looked over the whole 
 <* of the house, entered into the most trivial details ; 
 '• and after addressing questions to several of the pu- 
 " pils: * Well, madam, said he, I am satisfied, shew 
 « me your six pupils." ' Madame Campan present- 
 ed them to him ; and as he stepped into his carriage, 
 he desired that their names might be sent to Ber- 
 thier. On addressing the list to the prince de Neuf- 
 chatel, madame Campan added to it the names of 
 four rrher pupils, and all the ten obtained a pension 
 of 500 francs. During the three hours which this 
 visit occupied, the Empress did not utter a single 
 word. 
 
 " If that great man," said madame Campan allud- 
 ing to Napoleon, " had not been surrounded by base 
 *' parasites, he might have been prevented fromcom- 
 ^ mitting many faults. On the day after his visit to 
 
JOURNAL. 59 
 
 *' Ecouen, a queen wrote to inform me that I did 
 " wrong in not immediately obeying the Emperor's 
 '< orders, and that my resistance might be attended 
 «' with unpleasant consequences. All bowed beneath 
 " the influence of his character and his authority ; 
 " they never seemed to understand that he was so 
 " much under the control of reason, to be unable to 
 '« resist solicitations that were just, however impor- 
 '< tunate. Courtiers are every where so afraid of 
 " losing their places, that they adhere to any thing 
 <i that may please or flatter the sovereign. To this 
 '« cause must be attributed all the political faults that 
 '< are committed, and which frequently bring about 
 ** the ruin of all parties.'* 
 
 25th.^ — During the Consulate, Napoleon one day 
 said to madame Campan : '^ If ever I establish a 
 republic of women, I shall make you First Consul." 
 
 Josephine having been invited, during the Consu- 
 late, to dine with a rich army-contractor. Napoleon 
 said : " I do not object to your dining with bankers, 
 they are merely dealers in money j but I will not 
 have you visit contractors for they are robbers of 
 
 money." 
 
 Madame Campan has many times told me that 
 marshal Ney, just at the moment when the battle of 
 the Moskowa was decided, sent to request of Napo- 
 leon the whole reserve of the guard. Napoleon in- 
 quired of the aide-de-camp whether the Russian 
 guard had yet engaged ; he was told that they had, 
 and had been beaten by the troops of the line, " In 
 
60 JOURNAL. 
 
 that case," replied he, «* it will be a finer thing to be 
 able to say, in the bulletin, that the battle was gained 
 without my reserve having been brought into ac- 
 tion." 
 
 Marshal Ney had n^ade this request with a view 
 to cut off the retreat of the Russians ; and had the 
 reserve marched forward, it is probable that nearly 
 the whole of their army would have been made pri- 
 soners, and that a treaty might have been arranged 
 on the field of battle. 
 
 It was a saying of Napoleon's, that if you but 
 scratched the skin of a Russian, you would instantly 
 discern the barbarian. 
 
 26th. — " How soon," said madame Campan, "par- 
 <' ties recognise and understand each other, without 
 'f interchanging a word. 1 do good ; for to me that 
 " is a necessity ; and it sometimes leads me even 
 *' beyond my means. During the time I have re- 
 " sided at Mantes, I have relieved the unfortunate 
 *< as far as lies in my power. Yet the ladies com- 
 «' posing the Benevolent Society, have not proposed 
 <* that I should become a member of it. In my 
 " aged and infirm condition, I should not have ac- 
 «' ceded to such a proposal. To give privately is 
 " more congenial to my feelings. But without car- 
 *< rying my pretensions too far, I think this little 
 <' mark of respect was due to me. However, I thank 
 *« them for havmg forgotten me ; it was a more 
 " happy thought to pay their court to a certain lady, 
 «' who assvimes the title of ^larchioness. Be that as 
 " it may, I love and esteem the ladies of the society. 
 
JOURNAL. 61 
 
 * who are highly respectable, and who deserve the 
 < gratitude of the poor of Mantes. I merely men- 
 ' tion the circumstance, because it arises out of a 
 political cause. I feel convinced that it is not oc- 
 f casioned by any feelings of personal animosity to- 
 ' wards me." 
 
 ifc 
 
 '•' The talent of madame de Stael," said madame 
 Campan, "gave her a masculine character. To si- 
 ** lence her, it would have been necessary, as I told 
 '< the empress Josephine, to give her a court dress 
 <' with a long train ; she would have sought no bet- 
 << ter. The man who persecuted her was at first her 
 '< hero J her brilliant imagination exalted him into 
 «< an idol. Napoleon feared her at home ; but she 
 <' did him a great deal more mischief abroad. Un- 
 *< der his own wing, he might have kept her in check ; 
 <' but when vexed and irritated, she avenged herself 
 « with the bitterness that might be expected from a 
 <' woman of superior talent wounded to the quick. A 
 <* woman who can write manifestoes is worthy of 
 " consideration ; indeed, policy renders it a duty to 
 <« respect her. When authority wounds and tor- 
 " ments persons possessed of high talent, it creates 
 « enemies sometimes more dangerous than those 
 <' whom it contends with. Napoleon one day inter- 
 '< rupted madame de Stael, in the midst of a profound 
 '« political argument, to ask her whether she had 
 '< nursed her children." 
 
 27th. — « At court," observed madame Campan, 
 '< wit has more influence than reason. Do you know 
 << why ? — Because wit is fed by pride, and reason by 
 
62 JOURNAL. 
 
 ** philosophy j and as there is always more of pride 
 " than philosophy in courts, reason must relinquish 
 " the supremacy. This is the cause of all the follies 
 <' that are committed in courts. 
 
 ** The old nobility will never sincerely unite with 
 <* the new. The reason assigned for this is, that the 
 " nobles are the children of the revolution ; they are 
 'f merely tolerated. The system by which they at- 
 <« tained their rank is declared to be illegitimate. It 
 *« is said that they have obtained their titles by revolt, 
 '« and must be kept at a distance. Countenance is 
 « indeed shown to a few, lest too great an outcry 
 « should be raised j but they are always treated with 
 <' a certain degree of reserve." 
 
 Madame Campan, when conversing on the subject 
 of the existing law of election, and the sort of aris- 
 tocracy created by it, observed, that it would neces- 
 sarily restore the law of primogenitureship, in order 
 to afford the government a powerful influence over 
 the electors of the great colleges. 
 
 Napoleon was relating, at the Tuileries, after his 
 return from Austerlitz, that he could have made the 
 two Emperors his prisoners in that battle : — " Why 
 did you not bring them with you," said a princess 
 to him— '< we could have entertained them with the 
 carnival." '< In sooth," was the reply, *< such prison- 
 ers are apt to create too«much embarrassment." 
 
 He said, on another occasion, that his conscripts, 
 when they quitted their homes, wore only the cloak 
 
JOURNAL. 6S 
 
 of courage ; but that after they had faced the enemy 
 once or twice, their hearts were filled with it. 
 
 28th.. — «' From the situation in which lam placed," 
 said Napoleon to madame Campan, *< I very much 
 pity all who are about me. Their characters are all 
 known to me ; and I could make a report of them 
 just as you report the conduct of the scholars under 
 your superintendance. Ambition is their ruling pas- 
 sion. All is right that promotes their advancement, 
 but all is wrong that tends to their retrogression. 
 Their pride is very elastic ; their ingenuity enables 
 them to lengthen or shorten it as circumstances re- 
 quire. But I keep them within due bounds. They look 
 only to themselves ; and they forget the nation which 
 is the first principle. What would they be without 
 it ? The favours of which I dispose, belong to the 
 people ; but the men who are enjoying them, would 
 not scruple to show their ingratitude to the nation 
 and to me, if temptation should present itself.'* 
 
 *< It must be confessed,'' said madame Campan, 
 <■< that he judged correctly." 
 
 Napoleon related, that a few days before the bat- 
 tle of Austerlitz, some agitation had prevailed, par- 
 ticularly in Paris. "The warmth of the court 
 party," said he, «' had fallen to temperate ; but on 
 hearing of my success, they rallied round me as if 
 they had been charged by the Cossacks. This is the 
 way of the world." 
 
 " The progress of information brought about the 
 *< revolution in France ; but our manners checked it. 
 
64 JOURNAL. 
 
 "If the light of information be extinguished, our 
 " manners are ready prepared for the restoration of 
 «« the old state of things." 
 
 <' If," said Napoleon, <' I created so many princes 
 and kings, it was that I might present to the world a 
 specimen of my power. I should have acted very 
 differently, but for the reverses I experienced at 
 Moscow. To have kept the English in subjection 
 for three or four years would have sufficiently an- 
 swered my views. I would have given liberty to all 
 nations, and directed their views to elevated and no- 
 ble principles. Honour should have been the basis 
 of all. But fate thwarted my plans : this was the 
 greatest calamity that could have befallen the nations 
 of Europe." 
 
 March 1st. — During the Directory, madame 
 Campan had a chapel in her school, where a priest 
 performed mass every day. The establishment was 
 perhaps one of the first in France. At this period, 
 the death of Robespierre had suspended the reign of 
 terror, though it was not near at an end. The police 
 had received intimation that mass was celebrated in 
 madame Campan's house, and some commissioners 
 from the government were sent to order the chapel 
 to be closed. When they presented themselves, 
 madame Campan said : *< Citizens, in my school 
 « principles of morality must be inculcated. If 
 ** you take away the Gospel, what would you substi- 
 " tute in its stead ? A code of religion is necessary 
 " for the preservation of morality, as a code of laws 
 " is requisite for regulating society. ( Citizeness,' 
 
JOURNAL. 65 
 
 «' replied the commissioners, < the nation has ac- 
 " knowledged the supreme being, and the immor- 
 " tality of the soul. Conform with those principles. 
 " Orders must be executed, and not commented 
 " on.' " 
 
 << The tranquillity which 1 have enjoyed at Man- 
 ** tes, during latter years, has made me drink up life 
 *< like a glass of luke-warm water." 
 
 2d. — Mole, the actor, after paying a visit to the 
 Duke de Fronsac, on New Year's day, met Fieury 
 on the stair-case. The latter inquired whether he 
 had been paying his court to Monseigneur ; :o which 
 Mole replied : " Yes, certainly ; it cost nothing. I 
 always fancy I am on the stage, when I lavish this 
 kind of incense. It is a part to be played like any 
 other." 
 
 «' How unfortunate are the men who surround 
 " sovereigns, when they obtain from them marks o£ 
 " favour and private confidence ! I am not only one 
 " who has paid dearly for this honour. Certain tra= 
 <' vellers, I know of, could tell the same tale.'* 
 
 The empress Josephine, at the time of her divorce 
 requested permission to proceed to the United States. 
 Napoleon informed her that he could not answer for 
 her safety in crossing the sea, <* Then yuur power 
 finds an obstacle," said she, " Would to heaven there 
 were seas to be crossed Tor the fulfilment of all your 
 wishes ! your glory would then beam for ever." 
 
66 JOURNAL. 
 
 M. Seguier, grand vicar of Mantes, asked madame 
 Campan for some information respecting the death 
 of the marquess de Favras. " The public papers of 
 << the time," said she, <^ heaped the most odious ca- 
 " lumny on Monsieur, now Louis XVIII. Unfor- 
 « tunate circumstances determined the death of the 
 " Marquess." 
 
 " Do you know," said madame Campan, " why po- 
 «« litical delinquents show so little indulgence in their 
 " disposition ? It is because they wish to hide them- 
 « selves behind their own declarations." 
 
 Napoleon remarked to madame Campan, during 
 the Consulate, " that he who possesses the key of the 
 French treasury may be acquainted with all that is 
 going on in the cabinets of Europe, which, he added, 
 is by no means a matter of indifference, at any time. 
 
 Napoleon used to say, " that indulgence should 
 descend from the throne : but that it does not so 
 readily ascend to it, since subjects only exercise that 
 virtue in proportion as they receive protection." 
 
 «' How would a monarch govern, if his subjects 
 « were all men of rank ? Would it be necessary to 
 <' make laws expressly for them, of a nature different 
 « from those to which other men are subjected ? 
 if Previously to the adoption of any measure, the 
 '« minister would take into consideration the over- 
 " weening pretention, pride and vanity of men, with 
 « old family parchments ; and after fairly weighing 
 « all their claims, he would plainly see their un- 
 
JOURNAL. 67 
 
 " founded presumption, in wishing to play dis- 
 •* tinguished parts, and usurp privileges which could 
 " not belong to them. He would be compilled to 
 " regard them as humBle individuals, and to treat 
 *< them accordingly. How would it be possible to 
 " frame a law to satisfy pride, vanity and pretention ! 
 " Men know how to appreciate themselves. They 
 " find that strength exists in masses. The sabring 
 " and cannonading of the revolutionary wars, have 
 <' taught them that armies may be commanded with- 
 « out a Turenne or a Conde.'* 
 
 From the time when madame Campan underwent 
 the operation, which was performed on the 5th of 
 February, her health continued in a very satisfactory 
 state until the Sd of March. During that interval 
 no change for the worse took place. On the 4th of 
 March, however, she was seized with a slight de- 
 gree of fever, and all the symptoms of a catarrhal 
 affection began to appear. The wound occasioned 
 by the operation was by this time nearly healed. On 
 the day on which this change first became observa- 
 ble, there was an expression of apprehension in 
 madame Campan's countenance, and she said to 
 me : " Well! it is a catarrh. Lose no time, if you 
 " wish to save me. I have strength to go through 
 " any thing, and my confidence is boundless. I have 
 " always dreaded this disorder. Pray do nothing by 
 " halves. In situations of difficulty, cool determi- 
 *' nation is necessary. One must intrench ont's un- 
 «' derstanding in a strong hold ; mine will not be 
 " easily besieged. I wish to have about me none 
 " but my good friends of Mantes, and my valued 
 
68 JOURNAL. 
 
 «' servants ; and if I should not survive, I shall have 
 *' the satisfaction of breathing my last in the arras of 
 " friendship." She had formed a correct opinion of 
 the nature of her disorder. 
 
 Feeling herselfsomewhat better in the evening, she 
 said to me: ''Notwithstanding this improvement, 
 " I do not feel quite at ease. Though I do not ex- 
 *f perience any serious alarm, yet if I could change 
 <' my situation I would ; bat that is out of ray power, 
 *^ and I am resigned, for I never suffered myself to 
 " murmur at fate. I calmly await what it may please 
 <' God to do for me. The invalid who torments 
 ** himself, creates a moral disease, which serves but 
 '* to increase that with which he is already assailed. 
 " The doctor has then two enemies to contend with. 
 *' If the disorder which the patient brings upon him- 
 " self could cure the physical malady, it would be 
 ** well to employ it as a remedy ; but on the con- 
 «' trary, it can only do mischief, and therefore I am 
 «' resolved to avoid it." 
 
 On the 6th the symptoms increased. Madame Cam- 
 pan's pulse became feeble and irregular j but her 
 mental energy continued unabated. After suffering 
 severely for a few nours, she thus addressed me : 
 •< I have survived a terrible crisis. Had it continued 
 " much longer, I think I could not have held out. I 
 <' felt my strength failing me. I tranquilly calcu- 
 *< lated the progression. It was a terrible trial, and 
 *♦ one which almost required the patience of a saint. 
 " I felt that my life was hanging on a delicate thread, 
 " ready to break ; as when oppressed with sleepi- 
 
JOURNAL. 
 
 69 
 
 «' ness we feel that we shall soon fall into a profound 
 « slumber. But in these two cases the sensations are 
 <« as you may suppose, different." 
 
 In the evening finding herself a little better, ma- 
 dame Campan asked me whether there were any 
 news in the journals. On my answering that they 
 contained nothing, she said : " They are in the wrong. 
 " They should do their duty, which is to make known 
 « the wants of the people, and to discuss the best 
 « means of satisfying them. The aristocracy pre- 
 " tends not to understand these wants, because they 
 " wish to encroach upon every right. They cloak 
 " their injustice under the words, firmness and de- 
 " votedness. But people cannot live upon words ; 
 " they require things. The politician who defends 
 »' the cause of the people, acquires a claim on the 
 " gratitude of mankind. This is truly noble devot- 
 " edness, particularly at the present moment, when 
 " power is waging a war in which generosity has no 
 <' part." 
 
 Madame Campan remarked, that the budgets of 
 States formed the spiritual part of them. 
 
 Napoleon used to observe, *< That if he had had 
 two such field-marshals as Suchetin Spain, he would 
 have not only conquered, but kept the Peninsula. 
 Suchet's sound judgment, his governing, yet concili- 
 ating, spirit, his military tact, and his bravery, had 
 procured him astonishing success. It is to be regret- 
 ted,'* added he, " that a sovereign cannot improvise 
 men of his stamp." 
 
 G 2 
 
70 JOURNAL. 
 
 " As for mutual instruction, I fear it will be gra- 
 " dually suppressed. This will shew that the minis- 
 ^' try wish to preserve ignorance, to enable them to 
 <« govern the more easily, according to the plan they 
 *^ have adopted. If information were to be generally 
 <« diffused among the people, government would have 
 <* to encounter many obstacles in the execution of its 
 «' measures. When attempts are made to enslave 
 <' the strongest party, all sorts of artifices are resort- 
 *' ed to. A government loves its people for the uses 
 '* that may be made of them, and not for their own 
 " sakes. The friendship of men in power is selUsh ; 
 *t there is nothing generous or noble in the senti- 
 « ment." 
 
 On the 7th the symptoms of madame Campan's 
 disorder had rapidly increased. The remedies which 
 were applied., afforded only temporary relief." The 
 patient was occasionally cheerful, and addressed all 
 about her in the most affectionate manner. She seem- 
 ed hippy in having us near her, and frequently pres- 
 sed our hands within her own. To madame Voisiu 
 she said : — '< My dear friend, I shall not die yet a- 
 <* while. Do not grieve thus. Two hearts like ours 
 <' are not so easily separated. We shall drive away 
 " the grim king of terrors ; shall we not, doctor? I 
 eagerly replied in the affirmative ; adding, that I 
 hoped soon to see her well again, and that her forti- 
 tude was a sure guarantee for her recovery. « Yes, 
 Voisin,'' she resumed, "we have suffered many ca- 
 *'lamides together. But even misfortunes have their 
 " end, and a few hours of happiness will make us 
 *i forget them. I love you as a sister. We were 
 
JOURNAL. 71 
 
 «' certainly formed for each other. Oar hearts are 
 f( knit together, and death alone can part us." She 
 pronounced these words without emotion, and in a 
 tone of the most cordial affection. 
 
 On the 8th, madame Campan said to me :— " I 
 " must try to make up for the bad night I passed. 
 " How long it appeared. Pain multiplies time araaz- 
 '^ ingly. Physical indisposition would lead us into 
 '< curious mistakes, if we had no clocks. Hours are 
 '' as long as years. The same effect is produced 
 " when the imagination and the passions are power- 
 " fully excited. In the first case the patient must 
 " look at his watch ; and in the second, hemustcon- 
 « suit his understanding. If that be not sound, it 
 " will yield to the impulse communicated to it. 
 ^i This is the cause of the errors into which even 
 <* sensible men frequently fall. Such is the weak- 
 " ness of human nature, that we may err even with 
 " the best intentions : for we are not always able to 
 *« contend against excited imagination and powerful 
 " passion. It is these things that determine our fate." 
 
 It afforded me the highest pleasure to listen to ma- 
 dame Campan ; yet I was fearful lest she might fa- 
 tigue herself? and therefore begged that she would 
 refrain from conversation. " That would do me 
 " more harm than good," she replied, «' I will talk 
 *' slowly and gently." 
 
 " The Bull's-eye party never forgave me for hav- 
 " ing enjoyed the confidence of the King and Queen, 
 <' and for having rendered others happy when it was 
 
f2 JOURNAL. 
 
 " in my power so to do. The ladies of that swarm 
 
 <« of flatterers were often unjust, and whenever the 
 " Queen did me the honour to consult me, I told 
 " her the plain truth, and assured her that a govern- 
 " ment cannot be respected when it is not guided by 
 "justice. I have seen men, who, without having 
 *' rendered any service to their country, or given 
 «' proofs of talent in any way, have had the effrontery, 
 «< on the strength of their ancient families, to solicit 
 «' places, which ought to have been given to men 
 ** who bad justly earned rewards by twenty or 
 «' thirty years of tried service. The Qaeen im- 
 « mediately threw aside these unreasonable peti- 
 «' tions, and forgot the recommendations by which 
 " they were backed. Her memory will be ever dear 
 <* to me. I never in my life saw so amiable and fas- 
 " cinating a woman. She had the mind of an angel, 
 " and the serenity of her temper was never ruffled. 
 " The calumny which was heaped upon her some- 
 •'* times rendered her sad ; but never called forth 
 *f any feeling of vindictiveness." 
 
 " If I had been a princess,"' said madame Cam- 
 pan, '* I should not have had all the Bull's-eye party 
 " against me ; but it was supposed that the situation 
 <* I held, and mv mere letters of nobility, did not 
 *< entitle me to enjoy the honour of the Queen's fa- 
 *• vour and friendship. This excited their envy; 
 '' but they paid dearly for their folly. There was 
 <* also another ground for their jealousy. They 
 " knew I was better than they were themselves." 
 
 On the 8th, madame Campan passed a quiet 
 
JOURNAL. 73. 
 
 nighty but there was no improvement in her symp- 
 toms. 
 
 *« I had good eyes," said she, " when I was at 
 " court, and I made good use of them. I never 
 *< trusted to my ears. I was always on my guard 
 <' against the impressions which they might lead me 
 '' to form. At Versailles, tale-telling and slander 
 " frequently assumed the place of truth. I therefore 
 <' suspended my judgment until my eyes were con- 
 '< vinced ; and this caution rendered me very confi- 
 " dent of what I really knew. My enemies have 
 " abused me sadly ; but when I am gone I hope my 
 " memory will be more respected than I have been. 
 " You cannot form an idea of the dangers with which 
 '< one is assailed in a court : the ground is so slip- 
 " pery that it requires the greatest care to keep a 
 *< iirm footing." 
 
 I mentioned to madame Campan what I had heard 
 respecting M, Bourdier, physician to the empvess 
 Maria Louisa : namely, that he had sacrificed his 
 peace when he accepted the disagreeable office. 
 These were his own words : " My dear doctor," 
 said she, *' ambition is the first principle of the men 
 '< who surround sovereigns ; pride and meanness 
 <« come next in order. The conduct of courtiers is 
 «' influenced solely by these three causes. If they 
 «' stoop down, it is to grasp at something ; and if 
 " they stand upright, it is to show their .importance, 
 «' They learn to act their parts, and they who evince 
 « most talent in the performance are most successful. 
 " They have to pocket many affronts, it is true ; but 
 *^ they are not over nice. At court, where favours 
 
74 JOURNAL. 
 
 " are so lavishly distributed, merit is either ad= 
 " vanced or kept back, according as it suits the in- 
 " terest of men in power. Those who possess in- 
 '* fluence, deliver their opinion, their partizans re- 
 '< peat it ; and in the course of a few days, the 
 "drawing-rooms pronounce the final -judgment. 
 " People who think differently are afraid of compro- 
 " mising themselves j and affecting a degree of ar- 
 *< dour which they do not feel, they make more 
 «' noise than the rest. Happiness never dwelt in the 
 " palaces of kings. Courtiers acknowledge this, 
 <* and here at least they may be believed." 
 
 On the night of the 9th, madame Campan was. not 
 quite so well as she had been the night before. In 
 the morning the symptoms were the same as on the 
 preceding day. Blisters had been applied ; and when 
 they were removed the places appeared discoloured. 
 After I had conversed with madame Campan for a 
 few. minutes on some important subjects, she asked 
 who had been sending to inquire after her. I told 
 her the names of the persons who seemed to feel 
 most interest respecting her. '' Their kindness," 
 said she, " touches my heart. Under happier cir- 
 <« cumstances I should have done much good at 
 « Mantes ; but I am here upon half pay. I must 
 " exercise a little philosophy, to enable me to forget 
 *' the past, and live content with the present; yet I 
 '« confess, I could not endure any very severe priva- 
 <« tion, my philosophy would murmur, or would, 
 " perhaps, forsake me altogether. But if new mis- 
 f' fortunes were to assail me, I should begin again 
 " to study how to bear them, and probably I should 
 
JOURNAL. 75 
 
 *f succeed well enough. With a little courage one 
 " may turn misery out of doors, when it comes to 
 *< pay us a visit." 
 
 11th. -—Madame Campan passed a bad night. We 
 looked with impatience for the arrival of M. Voisin, 
 who had returned home a few evenings previously. 
 In spite of the confidence which madame Campan 
 reposed in him, she did not seem at all affected by 
 his delayed visit. Her understanding controled her 
 feelings, and her presence of mind never failed her. 
 I was the more distressed by M. Voisin's delay, be- 
 cause I observed that the patient was getting gradu- 
 ally lower, that every remedy had failed, and that 
 nature was exhausted. 
 
 In spite of the patient's hopeless condition, for 
 hopeless we saw it was, on the second day of her ill- 
 ness, I felt that the presence of M. Voisin would be 
 of service to us. He was delayed for several hours, 
 having been obliged to attend the duke d'Angouleme. 
 I did not wish to have the responsibility entirely on 
 myself. At length, however, M. Voisin arrived, 
 and after examining the patient, he advised the con- 
 tinuance of the remedies which had been already em- 
 ployed. In course of the day, madame Campan, ad- 
 dressing herself to me, said : — »* You are doing all 
 <' you can for me, and I thank you. How soothing 
 " are your attentions, and how deeply dors your 
 " friendship move my heart." Then pressing my 
 hand, she added : — »* I cannot express the feelings 
 «' with which your kindness inspires me ! If I must 
 <' die, my mind is fully made up. It is useless to 
 <' contend with an adversary stronger than one's self. 
 
76 JOURNAL, 
 
 «' My patience and resignation will not fail me. 
 " Those who have known how to live should know 
 " how to die. In thus bidding adieu to my family 
 " and my friends, I feel a consolation in reflecting 
 " that I do not leave my son behind me. Had he 
 " survived me, he would have been wretched ; and 
 *« that thought would have distressed me at the pre- 
 " sent trying moment. Farewel, my good friend! 
 •tf I throw myself into the arms of Providence. That 
 <' is the invisible resting point, and the only one. It 
 <* is a great consolation, and the imagination, though 
 « startled, clings to it with pleasure. How gratify- 
 <' ing it is to be able, on the approach of death, to 
 <* abandon one's self cheerfully to an order of things^ 
 « of the existence of which there has never yet been 
 <' any mathematical demonstration. This rallying 
 ** point is indeed, a source of comfort." 
 
 (Madame Campan had fulfilled all her religious 
 duties before she underwent the operation.) 
 
 '< 1 love the simplicity of my religion," said she ; 
 «' I revere the faith in which I have been educated ; 
 <' but I hate all that borders on fanaticism. I quit 
 *' the scene of life after having witnessed many vi- 
 *' cissitudes ; and every thing seems to forbode that 
 <* France will yet be exposed to violent convulsions. 
 '•' Tranquillity will not be established until senti- 
 « ments of justice predominate, which they must 
 «' ultimately do, for truth has asserted her rights. 
 " The light so much detested, has penetrated every 
 *' where. It is criminal to think on politics without 
 *' having an eye to that public happiness on which 
 *' private happiness depends. The governments, of 
 ** Europe are at present guided by ideas and pieju- 
 
JOURNAL. 'J*J 
 
 " dices which are below the level of the age ; the 
 *< carriage is driven along old traces and it will not 
 " go smoothly until it reaches level ground. Power 
 ** should be centred only in the law ; it is misplaced 
 " any where else : it has no other resting place which 
 *' sound reason can acknowledge. Those who think 
 " otherwise are blinded by the dust of old parch- 
 " ments. They seem to forget that ruling by ordi- 
 " nances is out of date. People want something 
 '^ more substantial ; they will no longer submit to the 
 " caprice of a minister, without complaining. The 
 " time for that is gone by." 
 
 12th. — Madame Campan passed a bad night, and 
 was very ill during the day. 
 
 « Well, doctor," she said, addressing herself to me, 
 " I am going very fast, political events sometimes 
 " urge us on as rapidly. I fear your skill will be un- 
 " availing; my cure would indeed do you credit. I 
 " suffer but little ; yet death is advancing at a sure 
 « pace." I sought to encourage the patient, by as- 
 suring her there still was hope. " Yes," she replied, 
 " hope is very consolatory ; but when one sees a lit- 
 " tie way before one, something else is requisite. I 
 " feel no reason to cherish hope. My situation is 
 <* sufficiently evident, from the affectionate attention 
 ** and interest manifested by my friends. Poor Voi» 
 <' sin takes no rest \ if this should continue much lon- 
 " ger, she will be ill too. I am happy to think that 
 *"• my infirmities are not of a nature to offend those 
 " about one. I am deeply affected by the proofs of 
 *< kindness I receive. But let us talk of something 
 « else." 
 H 
 
78 JOURNAL. 
 
 Napoleon remarked, that in every branch of the 
 administration, he had met with men, who, with the 
 art of speaking well, possessed also, in an eminent 
 degree, that of doing ill ; whenever he discovered 
 such, he knew how to reduce them to their proper 
 place. 
 
 Mr. Monroe, who was the United States ambas- 
 sador in France, during the revolution, and after the 
 fall of Robespierre, said to madame Campan at Saint- 
 Germain : "Fortune is rolling down the kennel, and 
 any one may stop and pick it up.*' During a walk in 
 the wood of Saint-Germain, he was talking in de- 
 fence of his country, which he held to be finer than 
 ours : his daughter, who was but a child, a pupil in 
 the establishment of Saint-Germain, interrupted him 
 by saying : «' Yes, papa, but there are no streets in 
 America like those," pointing, at the same time, to- 
 wards the main road. '« Very true," said Mr. Mon- 
 roe, «* our nation may be compared to a newly-form- 
 ed household ; we are in want of many things, but 
 we possess the finest thing of all — liberty." 
 
 " Nations judge of the designs of governments, by 
 " inspiration or by instinct. In vain are assurances 
 '' given that such and such measures, apparently op- 
 «« pressive, were dictated by pure intentions. These 
 *' assertions receive just as much credit as a conquer- 
 *' ed country grants to the proclamations of the ene- 
 " my. Let governments respect the rights of their 
 " subjects, and they will experience less opposition." 
 
 13th. — The symptoms of madame Campan's disor- 
 
JOURNAL. - 79 
 
 der continued increasing ; but her mind retained all 
 its energy. 
 
 The patient passed a tolerably easy day. Her 
 cough was not violent ; but her strength gradually 
 wasted, and her pulse continued to intermit more and 
 more decidedly. 
 
 14th.— Madame Campan grew gradually weaker 
 and her countenance assumed a more unfavourable 
 expression. She observed the uneasiness manifested 
 by madame Voisin and madame Maigne, and she 
 said to them ;— <^ Come, no more grieving ; think no 
 « more about me ; you have done enough." In the 
 course of the day she tried to sing, in order to rally 
 their spirits. About noon she addressed me as fol- 
 lows : '< One ought to forget one's own distresses, 
 
 " and think on those which affect others. I am now 
 " a stranger to public events, having lately had so 
 « little opportunity of attending to them. But, 
 " friend, "she added, lowering her voice, " I must try 
 " to forget myself, and to withdraw my thoughts 
 " from every thing around me. I am assailed by 
 " too many painful ideas and fancies. Let us talk 
 « on politics, doctor, to avoid talking about ourselves. 
 <« Is there any disposition to improve the condition 
 « of mankind ?" I replied that *' 1 thought there 
 was." " I am rather incredulous on that point,'' 
 said she. *« To enter properly into the spirit of a 
 " people, it is necessary that their wants should be 
 " understood ; and hitherto I see no reason to be^ 
 <« lieve that the subject has claimed any attention, 
 i' But I hope I am deceived." 
 
80 JOURNAL. 
 
 15th. — The patient passed a bad night on the 14th. 
 She frequently spoke of her family, to whom she was 
 tenderly attached. When in good health, she her- 
 self often observed, that she had too much of a fa- 
 mily heart not to think of her relations. In the 
 morning I found her nearly in the same state as when 
 I left her on the preceding day. Her ideas still con- 
 tinued clear and profound. *< What think you," 
 said she, " of the men who bargain for their opin- 
 ** ions in the market of Paris ? Certainly they arc 
 " losing sight of their first duty. 
 
 " Morality and justice are now invoked. This is 
 « done to avenge thirty years of humiliation. Mi- 
 " Dorities, when once they gain the ascendency, 
 " never show any mercy to the majorities they super- 
 " sede. The fools and fanatics of parties are always 
 " the sport of the poHcy and ambition of plotters." 
 
 « I feel," said madame Campan, <<■ that my disso- 
 <« lution is fast approaching. Every thing seems to 
 *' be vanishing from me. However, my strength is 
 " not yet entirely gone, and I will tell you an anec- 
 ** dote. I was dining one day at Malmaison with 
 " the First Consul, when he noticed the snuff-box 
 « which I always carried with me, and taking it in 
 '< his hand he recognised the features of Marie An- 
 *t toinette," 
 
 *< Good, very good, madame Campan," said he, 
 « this reflects credit on you. I hate ingratitude. 
 " It must be very satisfactory to you to possess the 
 " image of that charming woman. They would have 
 <* ruined her in 1793 j but who would they not have 
 «« ruined ? Their hatred of birth and titles bordered 
 
JOURNAL. 81 
 
 " on madness. You would have died with her, I am 
 " sure, and I know you will die with her portrait be- 
 " side you." 
 
 "Doctor," added she, after a pause : « he spoke 
 « truly, as you see." 
 
 16th. — During the night of the 15th, madame 
 Campan was occupied in arranging matters of busi- 
 ness, and particularly in settling legacies on her do- 
 mestics. 
 
 When I visited her in the morning, the hand of 
 death was upon her. Her extremities were cold, and 
 her pulse had almost ceased to beat. " I wish to 
 make my last will," said she, " but I do not think I 
 can. Will you have the goodness to write for me ?" 
 I eagerly signified my readiness to comply with her 
 desire. " I must sign my name," said she, " though 
 I know it is not necessary. " My relations are all 
 " too honourable to fail in the fulfilment of my last 
 '< wishes." I must here note down an expression 
 which forcibly marked the goodness of her heart. In 
 bequeathing legacies to her domestics, Chenier and 
 Gent-vieve, who had served her with the most afiec- 
 tionate fidelity, she said to me ; « They have become 
 " my relations."* 
 
 Having signed her name with some degree of dif= 
 ficulty, she paused and said : '' It will be better 
 " to have a notary." Her own notary was immedi= 
 ately sent for, and she explained to him with the 
 greatest precision all that she wished to have done^ 
 
 * These two excellent servants are now in the household of Madame 
 Campan's niece. 
 
 U2 
 
82 JOURNAL. 
 
 The codicil was then presented to her for signa- 
 ture. Her hand tremble i, and she said with a smile : 
 *« It would be a pity to stop short on so pleasant a 
 « road." 
 
 Dissolution was fast approaching ; and every re- 
 viving remedy had failed. About 11 o'clock the pa- 
 tient turned her head towards the window, which 
 had been opened. The sky was clear and the air 
 refreshing. *< This," said she, " is the evening of 
 «« a fine day, which has been darkened only by a few 
 « passing clouds. I am glad that I was induced to 
 "visit Switzerland! I there passed two months of 
 «< unalloyed happiness***. She is so amiable and 
 '' our hearts were so perfectly in unison. 
 
 " My dear doctor, I am no longer of this world. 
 « We are about to part for ever. I should have had 
 " many affairs to settle j but heaven has been pleased 
 " to ordain otherwise." 
 
 I endeavoured to support madame Campan's cou- 
 rage J but alas, I found that my own deserted me. 
 She exerted all her remaining strength to talk to us, 
 in spite of all I said to induce her to refrain from 
 speaking. She remained silent for a few moments, 
 and then said : «*'/ must express my thoughts in spite 
 ** of every thing." Her mental faculties still retain- 
 ed all their energy. I had removed to a little dis- 
 tance from her bedside, and she called me back in a 
 tone of voice less gentle than usual. I hastened to 
 her ; and then reproaching herself for this little 
 mark of hastiness, she said : «< How imperatively 
 *^ one speaks when one has not time to be polite J" 
 
JOURNAL. 83 
 
 She read in our countenances that she had not 
 
 f^ long to live, in spite of the effort we made to conceal 
 
 our feelings. Her breathing becanie more and more 
 
 difficult J and about six in the evening she heaved 
 
 her last sigh. 
 
 Her excellent sister, madame Pannelier, was 
 among us at that sad moment. 
 
LETTERS 
 
 OF 
 
 seas>aie:b ©amipa;^- 
 
LETTERS 
 
 OF 
 
 MADAME CAMP AN. 
 
 Mantes, Jan. 4th, 1819. 
 Sir, 
 
 The commencement of the new year, will, I pre- 
 sume, have induced you to quit C* * * on a vist to 
 Paris. To see our relations and friends at the re- 
 newal of each succeeding year, is a gratification re- 
 quired by heart, as well as a law imposed by custom. 
 This is the time, when travellers on the journey of 
 life stop and rest, salute each other, and say to 
 themselves: Well! here is one year ended; how 
 shall we pass that which is just begun ? The fashion 
 of presenting sweetmeats at this season, is an alle- 
 gorical expression of our wish that the ensuing year 
 may glide away sweetly. The Romans used to give 
 away, at the commencement of the new year, little 
 pots of well-refined honey : but certainly our confec- 
 tioners in the Rue des Lombards exceed all that was 
 known to the ancients in the art of preparing these 
 little presents. 
 
 No doubt the society of the Prefect will afford 
 you useful and agreeable recreation. He is a man 
 of the world, and a man whose estimable qualities 
 render him beloved in his department. I should 
 
88 LETTERS or 
 
 conclude that he is very amiable in domestic life. 
 One always finds in the family circle, a justification 
 of the opinion formed of an individual by the ma- 
 jority of the public. You are reading M. Fer- 
 rand's Esprit de V Histoire. It is, indeed, an excel- 
 lent work : publicx opinion has pronounced this deci- 
 sion. Yet it is evidently written with a particular 
 view. All, or almost all, the results tends to prove 
 the superiority of old laws and customs ; a question 
 which I do not mean to dispute, but which is not to 
 be admitted as a positive principle. A country 
 changes in the progress of time, just as scenes change 
 in the course of a journey. 
 
 The reason why there is so much misunderstand- 
 ing at present is, that certain individuals persist in 
 speaking in the dialect of 1660, to a generation which 
 has adopted a new dialect. I would advise you to 
 study the pure and simple history of facts, without 
 suffering your mind to be influenced by the opinion 
 of any particular author. It should be your own 
 task to compare one age with another ; and to re- 
 flect on the follies, faults, and crimes of different 
 eras. For example, when history unfolds pictures 
 of popular fury, and describes the atrocities occa- 
 sioned by impiety or fanaticism, compare the mur- 
 ders of the Armagnacs and the Boarguignons, com- 
 mitted in the state prisons of Paris, with those per- 
 petrated on the 2d of September, 1792: — You will 
 find that the causes of crime vary, but that men are 
 always the same \ and you will see the horrors at- 
 tendant on popular violence, whether excited by re- 
 ligious or political fanaticism. If your thoughts be 
 directed to headlong enterprises of valour, the love 
 
MADAME CAMPAN. 89 
 
 of arms, the ambition which distinguish conquerors, 
 and the little which all their victories enable them to 
 bequeath to their descendants, you will find Alexan- 
 der, Charles XIL, and Napoleon, all on one line. 
 If you reflect on those hazardous undertakings in 
 which valour and wisdom must be counted for no- 
 thing, you will see that Saint Louis perished in a 
 foreign land, where countless numbers of brave men 
 forfeited their lives ; and that Napoleon lost his army 
 and his crown in a distant expedition : the one mo- 
 narch was sacrificed on a burning southern soil, and 
 the latter, amidst the snow of the north. If you look 
 back to those crimes which time renders daily more 
 and more odious, you may compare the massacre of 
 St. Bartholomew, and the scaffolds of Robespierre. 
 This is the true spirit oj history ; it is the study of 
 the foibles and passions of poor human nature. 
 Would you see how far men may carry the abuse of 
 unlawful power, read what the Maires du Palais did 
 with their kings. Would you judge how powerful 
 bodies of men may abuse their strength, look at the 
 conduct of the old feudal chiefs, who, clothed in 
 mail, descended from their strong holds, to lay waste 
 woods and plains, to fire villages, and make kings 
 tremble on their thrones. Would you contemplate 
 the abuse of popular power, that may be found in the 
 clubs of 1793, and under the furious and sanguinary 
 red cap of the Jacobins. Such is the true spirit of 
 history, I have not read this any where ; but I have 
 read many things which have suggested these ideas. 
 Whether priesthood or philosophy reign, one thing 
 only can govern and restrain the passions of mankind. 
 One thing alone can confer happiness on human na- 
 I 
 
90 LETTLR5 01 
 
 ture ; and this is a good system of laws, judiciously 
 
 administered by men inaccessible to influence, as well 
 as to corruption. To a professor of the law, there- 
 fore, how necessary is the study of history, combined 
 with the just contemplation of human actions. La- 
 bour perseveringly. You have made choice of the 
 finest path in the career of human life. 
 
 Accept every assurance of my sincere and tender 
 regard. 
 
 G. C. 
 
 P. S. I have just read over my hastily-written 
 letter. Do not suppose I am a female philosopher. 
 You will make a mistake if you do. I have always 
 revered the laws of my religion. But I have exer- 
 cised my powers of observation, and I wish to in- 
 duce you to do so likewise. That is all, I assure 
 rou. 
 
 Mantes, May 13th, 1821. 
 Sir, 
 I have received your kind and agreeable letter, 
 and I hasten to reply to it, as I am about to leave 
 Mantes, and to travel. Yes, to travel, in the proper 
 sense of the term, for I am going to Switzerland, 
 during the season, to take the waters of Baden, either 
 in the baths, or from the pump. I have been induced 
 to undertake this journey, by the affectionate solici- 
 tations of my good nieces, and by ibe advice of my 
 medical attendants. They assure me that this in- 
 tended visit to Baden will have the effect of restoring 
 
.MADAME CAMP AN. 91 
 
 my health, and furnishing my mind with recollec- 
 tions of scenes and individuals which may, hereafter, 
 not banish, for that is impossible, but at least help to 
 divert away the painful thoughts that continually 
 haunt me. I propose returning in September. At 
 the baths I expect to meet several ladies, formerly 
 my pupils, whom it will afford me great pleasure to 
 see again ; but I will never traffic for the tender re- 
 collections of friendship and the revered sentiments 
 of gratitude. 
 
 I thought that nobody would consider it worth 
 while to trouble their, heads about an old woman, 
 erased and cancelled from' every favour, though her 
 peace of mind is not disturbed by the consciousness 
 of having committed any wicked action. But I was 
 mistaken. It has been mentioned in several fami- 
 lies in Paris, that I am about to take up my abode 
 with my pupil, Hortense. This is absolutely false. 
 I am going only to Switzerland ; and I would not 
 willingly have my poor bones laid at rest in any other 
 country, save that which gave me birth. 
 
 Fate sometimes changes for the better, at the very 
 moment when it seems most hopeless. 
 
 Your remarks on the judicial magistracy are ex- 
 ceedingly just, profound, and well digested. But 
 you have looked only at the dark side of the picture. 
 Examined in the right point of view, that dignified 
 and useful profession will be found to be the very 
 first in the civil branch of the government, and it 
 should be uninfluenced by the advantages which the 
 military profession has in all ages laid claim to. 
 When poor, the magistracy are indeed much to be 
 pitied, and still more so are their families, who may 
 
m 
 
 LETTERS OF 
 
 not be excited by the noble sentiments v/ith which 
 they are themselves animated. They should call to 
 mind the venerable recollections inspired in the 
 church, by the bishops with wooden crosses, who for- 
 feited so much of their merit to the detriment of 
 religion, when their crosses came to be made of gold. 
 An upright and intelligent judge, wJio has pro- 
 foundly studied the law, and administers it impar- 
 tially, who never bestows a glance on the exterior 
 of him who appeals for justice, or who seeks to 
 evade it ; — a judge who sees only the important 
 balance which is placed in his hand ;— who, aware 
 that a grain of sand will turn that balance, is guided 
 only by God and his conscience, in casting that grain 
 of sand ; — who bears in mind only the two imposing 
 words, guilty or innocent ; — who knows that his go- 
 vernment has framed laws, which he is called upon 
 to administer, and that ke must not consult the 
 changes that may take place in that government, so 
 long as the code remains unchanged ; — a judge who 
 turns a deaf ear to the dangerous entreaties of beauty 
 bathed in tears, and who is not to be tempted by 
 gold, sees in his turn the warrior disarmed, submit- 
 ting to the sentence of the law, which it is his office 
 to pronounce. Such a man must be beloved and es- 
 teemed, whether he reside in a capital containing a 
 hundred thousand souls, or in a little town like Man- 
 tes. He reads the expression of respect in all eyes ; 
 he is the terror of the wicked, and the hope of the 
 just. To an honourable mind such a situation must 
 surely afford the highest happiness. 
 
 But I am making you read my scribbling, instead 
 of directing your attention to something of greater 
 
MADAME CAMP AN 
 
 93 
 
 utility to you, and of higher interest to all. Read 
 M. Guizot, on Justice, and on Political Influence. 
 I believe I have not given you the proper title of the 
 work. It was lent to me, and I read it from begin- 
 ning to end, without ever laying it down. I returned 
 it immediately, and I have forgotten the right title. 
 However, the subject is what I have mentioned, and 
 you may easily procure it. It will show you the 
 mischief which the sanguinary Jeffries caused in 
 England, by selling his judgments to despotic power. 
 Read also the Memoirs of the marquess de Ferrie- 
 res, on the Constituent Assembly. They are admi- 
 rable. I never for a moment quitted the scene of 
 the memorable events described by the Marquess^ 
 and I can truly affirm, that I have not, during the 
 last thirty years, seen any work on the subject, which 
 can bear a comparison with these Memoirs. They 
 afford an excellent clue for guiding the judgment 
 through the extraordinary series of events of which 
 they treat. Every one should make himself familiar 
 with these events. They will be studied by our 
 posterity, and placed on a parallel with the most re- 
 markable crises of ancient history ; and yet how 
 many young men of five and twenty enter upon the 
 world unacquainted with the course of those inci- 
 dents, the influence of which will long continue to be 
 felt. The marquess de Ferrieres writes in a singu- 
 larly pleasing and impartial style. The reader is led 
 from the king's palace to the chambers, and from 
 thence into the midst of popular commotions. When 
 it is necessary to report speeches, just so much of 
 them is given as serves to animate the interest with- 
 out breaking the thread of the narrative, The Mar 
 J 2 
 
^ 
 
 LETTERS OF 
 
 quess, who was a deputy of the nobility, retained 
 ' his place on the right hand side of the chamber. His 
 pure integrity, elevated sentiments, and correct turn 
 of thinking, qualified him to take the clearest view 
 of the great picture exhibited before him. He ob- 
 serves the faults of the right hand side of the assem- 
 bly, the ambitious advances of the left, and in short, 
 the errors of both parties, as though he were an un- 
 concerned spectator looking down from the roof. 
 
 This long letter, though an encroachment on your 
 time, will at least serve to prove to you that time and 
 misfortune have in no way diminished the tender in- 
 terest which my heart has ever cherished for you. 
 Let me impress upon your mind the necessity of 
 reading. Without it, any education however excel- 
 lent, will prove abortive. AH the learning acquired 
 in the best schools, is merely like the piece of canvas 
 stretched upon a work-frame : reading produces on 
 the mind the effect which variegated silks and wors- 
 teds impart to the canvass. A judicious course 
 of reading will even make amends for a d.- fective 
 education. But I miist conclude. Old age has the 
 advantage of having seen much! but it is apt to fall 
 into the error of saying too much. 
 
 Accept a thousand assurances of my regard. 
 
MADAME CAMPAN. 95 
 
 Draveil, June 18th, 1821. 
 
 My dear Edmund,* 
 
 You are now in Paris. Your mother, your dear 
 aunt, and your uncles, have contrived all sorts of 
 amusements for you during holiday-time. Holidays 
 are given to children as a reward for their industry ; 
 and on their return to school, good children shew 
 their gratitude to their parents by resuming their 
 studies with pleasure ; for in the meanwhile they have 
 grown a little older, and as the understandings of 
 young people are daily improving, they are every day 
 the better able to learn. 
 
 Little boys are shown many fine sights during their 
 holidays. They are taken to the Jardin des Plantes, 
 and there they are told : this tree was brought from 
 Japan, that from South America, that from India, &c. 
 Who brought those trees to France ? Men who sail- 
 ed over vast seas to procure these treasures for us. 
 Who cultivated them in our climate ? Men who have 
 devoted themselves to the study of every branch of 
 vegetable cultivation. 
 
 You will see the fine colonnade of the Louvre, the 
 Hotel of the Mint, the Palace of Louis XV., &c. 
 Who constructed those noble monuments ? 3Ien 
 who spent years in learning the science of architec- 
 ture, and who visited Italy to see and admire the mo- 
 numents which that country possesses. You will 
 see beautiful statues. Who sculptured the marble 
 so exquisitely, that the figures look like real flesh, 
 
 • Thi« letter vas addressed by Madame Campan to her son, after she 
 tiad left him Id Farie. 
 
96 LETTERS OF 
 
 and the draperies like real dresses. 3Ien whose ta- 
 lent has rendered their names immortal. You will 
 see fine paintings which represent the persons of great 
 heroes, and record their actions. All these things, 
 are the work of diligent Jlen, 
 
 You will perhaps be taken to the play, and may 
 see one of those tragedies which draw tears from our 
 eyes, and picture to us the misfortunes of kings, 
 princes, and heroes. Who are the authors of these 
 plays ? Men who pursued their studies diligently, 
 and whose minds were penetrated with the beauties 
 of the classic writers. But my dear Edmund 1 should 
 never finish my letter, were I to describe to you all 
 the beautiful and useful things for which we are in- 
 debted to human labour. A little boy who is capa- 
 ble of reflecting, should say to himself: — Wherever 
 I go I see the productions of genius and industry. I 
 am the beginning of a man ; and that I may hereafter 
 be able to leave behind me honourable recollections 
 in my dear coun!;ry, I must study as these illustrious 
 men studied, when they were like me, only the begin- 
 nings of men. Thus my dear Edmund, even while 
 we are amusing ourselves, we may learn somethmg 
 from what we see and admire. Your old and sincere 
 friend at Mantes, feels assared that your own under- 
 standing will lead you to make useful reflections. She 
 is better than she was, and hopes to pass the winter 
 with you and your mother, in her pretty house at 
 
 MaDtes. She sends her love to vou. 
 
 G. C. 
 
MADAME CAMPAN. 97 
 
 t 
 
 Zufich, July 2rth. 
 
 My DEAR DAUGHTER, 
 
 Ih'is letter will be a little volume, and it is wholly 
 for you. I have already written to the worthy doc- 
 tor, and I do not wish to excite any jealousy. You 
 see how vain I am ! I was to have visited the abbey 
 of Einsiedeln j but I caught cold in coming from Ba- 
 den to Zurich, and my friends whom 1 met at the 
 springs, together with the abbe Bertrand, set out on 
 their pilgrimage without me. They have just arriv- 
 ed, and they found the roads so exceedingly bad that 
 they are glad my cowardice induced me to renounce 
 the design of accompanying them. My old pupil 
 is devoted to the strict observance of her religious 
 duties : her misfortunes have made her feel the value 
 of the powerful consolation afforded by prayer, and 
 the hope of a happier world. It was he? Wian tO 
 
 confess and to receive the sacrament at the abbey. 
 She fulfilled her pious design ; but unfortunately 
 caught a severe cold. 
 
 1 could never have accomplished the pilgrimage 
 to Einsiedeln. The road extends over mountains 
 and rocks to the distance of three long leagues ; and 
 there are but two places at which travellers can rest. 
 The abbey is one of the most beautiful in existence ; 
 indeed it may be said to be the finest, the richest, and 
 the most frequented of any in Europe. It is calcu- 
 lated that a hundred thousand pilgrims repair thither 
 every year ; eighty thousand on foot and twenty 
 thousand in carriages. 
 
 It is no uncommon thing to see the whole inhabi- 
 tants of some of the villages in the catholic cantons 
 
98 LETTERS OF 
 
 of Switzerland, going in procession to Einsiedeln. 
 You, perhaps, expect to be spared the description of 
 the abbey ; but you mistake if you do. When I tra^ 
 vel I must relate all I see and hear of ; so have pa- 
 tience ', nothing will be omitted. 
 
 Einsiedeln, or our Lady of the Hermitage, is situ- 
 ated in the canton of Schweitz, nine leagues from 
 Zurich, and twelve from the French frontier. Me- 
 nard, Count of ZoUern, made choice of this roman- 
 tic spot as the site of a little hermitage which he built 
 for himself, and whither he retired and lived for the 
 space of thirty years in pious meditation, secluded 
 from all intercourse with mankind. The Count was 
 murdered at the hermitage, in the year 862, and the 
 place was deserted for twenty-five years after ; at 
 which time another hermit, named Ebenard, inspired 
 by pious resolution, retired to it. In course of time 
 the hermitage became celebrated, and in the year 906 
 the Emperor Otho founded the abbey of Einsiedeln, 
 which he endowed with the extensive surrounding 
 wastes, and also with some good lands, on the banks 
 of the lake of Zurich. From that time the property 
 of the abbey continued increasing, and in the fifteenth 
 century its revenues amounted to a million of francs. 
 At this peribd the abbot of Einsiedeln was made a 
 prince of the empire. The abbey has subsequently 
 lost a considerable portion of its landed possessions ; 
 but it still continues very rich. It is a truly magni- 
 ficent monument. I'he abbot's residence is a palace, 
 in which persons of rank and distinguished pilgrims 
 are received. I am truly sorry for not having visit- 
 ed Einsiedeln ; but the calash was dragged from rock 
 to rock, for the space of three hours, and the swelling 
 
MADAME CAMPAN. 99 
 
 in my breast, which is still occasionally painful, 
 might perhaps have been rendered worse, even 
 though I had incurred no more serious danger on 
 the journey. 
 
 My old pupil of Saint-Germain, who has now per- 
 formed this pilgrimage for the third time within the 
 last three years, happened to observe, on the table at 
 which I was writing, a memorandum containing a 
 list of persons to whom I wished to take some ob- 
 jects of piety, touched by the miraculous Virgin, who 
 is devoutly worshipped by the good catholics of 
 Switzerland. She carried the memorandum off by 
 stealth, purchased every thing I had set down, and 
 presenting them to me on her return. — .** here,^ she 
 said, «* I have executed the commissions for your 
 friends at Mantes." I am truly delighted with her. 
 Divested, as she now is, of her dazzling and too 
 evanescent splendour, she lives in a style of the ut- 
 most simplicity, relieving the wants of the poor, and 
 rendering herself beloved by all who know her. She 
 is exactly the woman which her interesting childhood 
 led me to expect she would be. She was my pupil 
 at the time when the fear of the executioner's axe 
 forced us all to be citizens of the republic : and I 
 formed her youthf.ul mind without the most remote 
 anticipation of the exalted and unhappy destiny for 
 which she was reserved. At length, however, the 
 vicissitudes of her life are ended ; and I am not a 
 little gratified to observe, that the religious princi- 
 ples which I instilled into the minds of my pupils, 
 the talents which I taught them to cultivate, afford, 
 under adversity, a source of consolation and amuse- 
 ment. These are the blessings of an education 
 
ICX) • LETTERS or 
 
 founded solely on the basis of religion ; and at the 
 same time embracing all that is calculated to form 
 the judgment and cultivate the mind. What re- 
 sources it affords in mature age, and in those cases, 
 unhappily too frequent, when interested society for- 
 sakes us, because they have no longer need of our 
 support, or because we are unable to offer them the 
 pleasures which wealth once placed within our 
 reach. 
 
 The waters of Baden have proved beneficial to 
 me j and the swelling in my breast is considerably 
 decreased. Switzerland is full of physicians, who 
 are reputed to be very skilful. I have consulted one 
 at Zurich, and another at Baden. Their opinions 
 corresponded with those of my medical advisers in 
 Paris, and with that pronounced by your husband ; 
 and I was gratified to find that in judging like 
 Frenchmen, they judged correctly. I hope soon 
 again to see my little abode in the Rue Tillerni, and 
 my drawing-room looking to the south. But alas ! 
 I shall never more behold that object whose loss my 
 heart incessandy deplores ! 
 
 I am lodged here at an excellent inn, the sign of 
 the Sword, where I have been confined to my room 
 through the fatigue I sustained during my journey. 
 The apartment is, however, superb. It was recently 
 occupied by the queen of Bavaria, who, with her 
 sister, princess Amelia, and the two young prin- 
 cesses, lodged at this inn during their stay in Zu- 
 rich. The rooms are fitted up in the most showy 
 style, after the Swiss fashion ; but, unfortunately, 
 the beds are wretched, being nothing but straw ma- 
 tresses. The inn is built on piles, and it is ap- 
 
MADAME CAMPAN. 101 
 
 proached by a prodigiously wide wooden bridge, 
 thrown across the lake, Zurich is an opulent city, 
 and is now full of bustle, for the Helvetic Diet is at 
 present sitting ; and the Landammans, Foreign Am- 
 bassadors, and Deputies, are continually moving 
 about. All this I have observed merely from my 
 window. But what a window it is ! The beautiful 
 and extensive prospect it affords has been painted 
 and engraved, and the prints are sold in all the book- 
 sellers shops in Zurich. I should have liked to en- 
 rich my magic lanthorn with a copy of this engrav- 
 ing ; but the charge of thirty francs forced me to re- 
 press my wish. Travelling is very expensive, and 
 if we did not resist the temptation of purchasing spe- 
 cimens of all the different productions of the coun- 
 tries through which we pass, we should not have 
 money enough left to pay for our horses. However, 
 I am collecting a few little articles, which may prove 
 useful or agreeable to my friends ; for it is gratify- 
 ing to enable them to say, she thought of me at Zu- 
 rich, at Basle, or at Baden. Even my dear Edmund 
 has been remembered ; but how could he be for- 
 gotten ? 
 
 Say every thing that is kind for me to dear Joseph 
 and his little companion ; and forward the enclosed 
 letter to madame Saint Phar. Present my compli- 
 ments to M. and madame Jerville, to the countess 
 de la Saumaise, and to M. and madame Meyer. Be 
 sure to remember me to M, Bouillon. His attention 
 to me at the moment when I was bereft of all I held 
 most dear, will render me grateful to him during the 
 remainder of my life. 
 
 Madame Voisin is very well ; but she has been 
 K 
 
10£ LETTERS, &:C. 
 
 forced to relinquish the use of the warm baths, after 
 a few trials. She was immediately attacked with a 
 disorder which the Swiss call the poupee. It is a 
 general eruption of the skin, produced by the warm 
 baths. The Swiss consider this poup6e as very fa- 
 vourable to the health ; but it is extremely inconve- 
 nient, and has a very ugly appearance. I have es- 
 caped it. Skilful physicians condemn the excessive 
 use that is made of the vr^rm baths her^ Many 
 persons remain as long as seven hours a day im- 
 mersed in the bath ; leaving it to go to dinner, and 
 returning again when the meal is ended. 
 
LETTERS 
 
 FROM 
 
 MADAME CAMPAK TO HER SOK, 
 
 NOTICE BT THE EDITOR. 
 
 The following letters contain the affectionate and 
 judicious advice of a mother to a beloved son^ on his 
 first entrance into life^ dictated by the wish to guide 
 him in the path of duty ^ and to zvarn him against the 
 dangers xvith xvhich youth is surrounded in its inter- 
 course zuith society . In this correspondence Madame 
 Campan mingles xvith her excellent instructions, her 
 recollections^ observations and opinions , respecting all 
 she formerly saw at the Court of France^ as zvell as 
 the interesting events xvhich occurred during the kit' 
 ter period of her lije. Her remarks on history^ on lite- 
 rature^ and on the drama^ are alxvays sensible andxvell 
 expressed. From the manner in xvhich all the xurit- 
 ings of Madame Campan have hitherto been received^ 
 it may confidently be anticipated that the correspon-- 
 
104 Xctice by the Ldiior 
 
 dence ncxv published^ will excite that interest which 
 can scarcely fail to be attached to letters -written by a 
 woman of distinguished ability, for the purpose of 
 forming the principles^ the understanding^ and the 
 taste of a son whom she tenderly loved. 
 
LETTERS. 
 
 23d Messidor, Year IX. 
 My beloved Son, 
 
 I addressed a few lines to you at Lyons ; but in my 
 perplexity, I forgot the name of Monsieur #***#*. 
 The individual whose name I unluckily substituted 
 for the right one, felt, I presume, but little respect 
 for a letter which would have afforded so much plea- 
 sure to my Henry. This at least will follow you to 
 Montpellier ; for you cannot receive it at Lyons. 
 
 You are now, my dear Henry, removed from my 
 fond care and instruction ; and young as you are> 
 you have entered upon the vast theatre of the world. 
 Some years hence, when time shall have matured 
 your ideas, and enabled you to take a clear retro= 
 spective view of your first steps in life, you will be 
 able to enter into my feelings, and to judge of the 
 anxiety which at this moment agitates my heart. 
 When first a beloved child, releasing itself from its 
 nurse's arms, ventures its little tottering steps on the 
 softest carpet, or the smoothest grassplot, the poor 
 mother scarcely breathes ; she imagines that these 
 first efforts of nature are attended with every danger 
 to the object most dear to her. Fond mother, calm 
 your anxious fears ! Your infant can, at the worst, 
 receive only a slight hurt, which, under your tender 
 care, will speedily be healed. Reserve your alarmsj 
 K 2 
 
106 LETTERS OF 
 
 your heart-beatings, your prayers to Providence ; for 
 the moment when your son enters upon the scene of 
 the world to select a character, which, if sustained 
 with dignity, judgment and feeling, will render him 
 universally esteemed and approved ; or to degrade 
 himself by filling one of those low and contemptible 
 parts fit for the vilest actors in the drama of life. 
 Tremble at the moment when your child has to 
 choose between the rugged road of industry and in- 
 tegrity, leading straight to honour and happiness ; 
 and the smooth and flowery path which descends, 
 through indolence and pleasure, to the gulph of vice 
 and misery. It is then that the voice of a parent, or 
 of some faithful friend, must direct him to the right 
 course. But good counsel, reiterated constantly in 
 the same tone, may prove wearisome to his ear ; 
 while a thousand varied voices, melodious as those of 
 the syrens, are tempting him to launch into the ca- 
 reer which must prove fatal to his happiness. We 
 are led into allegory in attempting to describe feel- 
 ings by which we are powerfully moved. In short, 
 my dear son, I implore for you the aid of experience, 
 that tardy but excellent instructress, and all 1 hope is, 
 that you may not pay too dearly for her lessons. 
 
 I left Paris on the 7th, at six in the morning. On 
 reaching home, I took a bath and lay down to rest in 
 my closet, on the bed in which you used to sleep. I 
 have not yet risen ; and I shall not leave this apart- 
 ment without a feeling of pain. 
 
 I shall write to you very often, for I wish to inform 
 you of all I do, so that you may see me, as it were, 
 reflected in a magic looking-glass. I shall address 
 you as the dearest friend I have, and inform you of 
 
MADAME CAMPAN. lOr 
 
 all my pleasures and my pains, my good and my bad 
 fortune. In like manner unfold your heart to me j and 
 you shall receive counsel when you stand in need of 
 it. How many things I have to say to you ! 
 
 Adieu ! my dear son j continue to love me ten- 
 derly ; act so as to reflect honour on me and secure 
 happiness to yourself. 
 
 P. S. — Send me, I conjure you, every particular 
 respecting your studies ; those which you are now 
 pursuing, and those upon which you are about to en- 
 ter ; and also on your public examinations. Sur- 
 rounded as you doubtless are, by thoughtless and 
 trifling companions, let your mother be the rallying 
 point of your mind and heart; the confidant of all 
 your plans. 
 
 I shall have sufficient interest to establish you in 
 the world, because I have maintained, and shall al- 
 ways preserve, a useful and respectable character 
 in society ; but I have not enough of that interest 
 called favour, to raise you to eminence, unaided by 
 your own exertions. 
 
 I approve of the sentiments you express for a wo- 
 man whom I esteem ; but experience convinces me 
 that people who are fond of receiving attention, and 
 who love personal importance without caring to do 
 much to deserve it, are generally content with soci- 
 ety inferior to themselves ; while on the other hand, 
 those who are stimulated by the laudable ambition 
 of rising in the world, seek to associate with their 
 superiors. You have done the reverse this winter; 
 but for so doing you have given me reasons, some of 
 which are plausible, while others I have shewn to be 
 insufficient and mappiicable. 
 
108 LETTERS OF 
 
 Without any design of lecturing you, I send you 
 these reflections, which occurred to me as 1 was 
 walking about my garden. Reflect well on them. 
 My duty is fulfilled in pointing out to you the course 
 you should pursue in this world. Soon, that is to 
 say, in a few years hence, the signal will be given 
 for my departure hence ; but when one has to leave 
 a son behind, life is always full of interest ; so true 
 it is that paternity or maternity prolongs the pe- 
 riod of our sojourn on earth. 
 
 1st Thermidor, Year IX. 
 Written in bed, at six in the morning. 
 Yesterday evening, my dear son, Lecomte and I 
 seated ourselves on the bench before my door, at the 
 hour when the postman arrives with the letters. I 
 hoped to receive one from Auxerre, but I was dis- 
 appointed ; and I sorrowfully returned to my closet, 
 with my hope deferred until this evening. My 
 abode is now less busy than usual. The absence of 
 all mv pupils, of madame Leftvre and my sister, ren- 
 ders the place as solitary as the most retired spot In 
 the country. But this tranquillity accords well with 
 the melancholy and regret occasioned by the absence 
 of my beloved son. I seated myself near the window 
 of my library, and gazed with pleasure on the beau- 
 tiful landscape which used to charm us both when 
 we weie together, a few months ago. From my 
 window I could also see the garden in which all the 
 happiest moments of your childhood were passed. 
 On reading this I know what affectionate recoUec- 
 
MADAME CAMPAN. 109 
 
 tions will rush upon your mind, and transport you 
 back for a time to your mother's home. 
 
 You do not know, perhaps, that at Coubertin I 
 took lessons in epistolary style, or I should rather 
 say, I there learned to cherish the natural feeling 
 which prompts us, when we write to those we love, 
 to enter into details relating even to objects the most 
 unimportant j for to the absent all is interesting that 
 serves to revive the recollections of former habits. I 
 received these lessons while I was patiently writing 
 letters for the peasant women, to send to their sons, 
 who had been called out by the requisition, to join 
 our armies. One of these letters, I remember, was 
 as follows : " I have to tell you, my dear Charles, that 
 " the great plum-tree in front of our house, is this 
 " year loaded with fruit ; that the hay-stack in the 
 '< little meadow is at least five feet higher than it was 
 *' last year ; that the great red cow has got a beauti= 
 " ful black-and-white calf ; and that your god-mo- 
 " ther, Marianne Colot, will soon be married to the 
 " farmer's son." 
 
 I used to trace these details with the pleasure 
 which is experienced by the landscape painter, 
 when he fixes on his canvass the simple feautures of 
 a rural scene ; and I was convinced that these sim- 
 ple epistles, Ucaciiptivc of purely natural sentiments 
 and pleasures, must present a charm to every feeling 
 heart. I will, therefore, my dear son, inform you of 
 every thing that concerns me. I shall often lead 
 you through my class-rooms, my cabinets, and my 
 gardens. In thus bringing you home to me, I shall, 
 in some degree, divert away the gloom which your 
 absence diffuses around me. I shall make you 
 
ilO LETTERS OF 
 
 think of your mother, whose thoughts are so fond- 
 ly fixed on you ; and I shall banish from your 
 susceptible, artless and inexperienced mind, any idea 
 that nvight lead you to ruffle the calm and regular 
 course of my life, and force me to mingle tears of 
 sorrow with those which I shed in regret for your 
 absence. 
 
 In the first place, I must tell you that the most 
 active repairs are going on in my house. The great 
 dining-room is being newly painted, and my four 
 class-rooms will, when finished, have an elegant ap- 
 pearance. I am getting the blue room newly papered, 
 as otherwise it would not have corresponded with 
 the others. Since I am the victim of envy, only be- 
 cause I am at the head of the first establishment for 
 female education in France, I must endeavour to 
 rise above the level whence I have been so unjustly 
 attacked. When the motion of the carriage-wheels 
 is impeded by ruts, the driver must make a powerful 
 effort to extricate himself from the difficulty. For 
 want of this useful energy, how many staffer them- 
 selves to sink beneath the weight of disappointments 
 and reverses, which, with a little resolution and per- 
 severance, might have been but transiently felt. 
 Never forget CTDubertin, and the bill of 400 francs, 
 which was all I posbcssed in the world, when I ar- 
 rived at Saint Germain. Reflect that this extreme 
 distress was the fruit of imprudence on the part of 
 your parents, rather than the result of the French 
 revolution. Do not sufl'er your family, of which 
 you are now the head, to sink again into a state of 
 degradation and embarrassment. Consider that while 
 you are raising your fortune on the honourable 
 
MADAME CAMP AN. Ill 
 
 bases of economy and industry, you have the advan- 
 tage of belonging to a family of old established re- 
 spectability, who enjoyed distinguished considera- 
 tion amidst a numerous court. One should never 
 cherish silly vanity ; but it is proper to know how to 
 appreciate advantages, which, though merely acci- 
 dental, will, if rightly viewed, stimulate us to the at- 
 tainment of personal and positive merit. 
 
 Learn to know the value of money. This is a 
 most essential point. The want of economy leads to 
 the decay of powerful empires, as well as of private 
 families. Lous XVL perished on the scaffold, for 
 a deficit of fifty millions. There would have been 
 no debt, no assemblies of the people, no revolution, 
 no loss of the sovereign authority, no tragical death, 
 But for this fatal deficit. States are ruined through 
 the mismanagement of millions, and private persons 
 become bankrupts, and end their lives in misery 
 through the mismanagement of crowns worth six 
 livres. It is very important that I should lay down 
 to you these first principles of right conduct, and 
 impress upon your mind the necessity of adhering to 
 them. Render me an account of the expenditure of 
 your money, not viewing me in the light of a rigid 
 preceptress, but as a friend who wishes to accustom 
 you to the useful habit of accounting to yourself. 
 
 The marriage of M***** is still in progress. He 
 is so extremely odd, that a few days ago I was al- 
 most tempted to send him about his business. He is 
 really verging on madness ; he does not know his 
 own mind for two moments running. However, the 
 idea of being married renders his intended wife 
 pleased with him. I hope he will be able to perceive 
 
112 LETTERS OJ 
 
 how much he gains in the possession of a meritorious 
 woman. * 
 
 1st Thermidor, Evening. 
 My neighbour, Lefevre, being alone, I went to- 
 day to dine with him, and to enjoy the beautiful 
 prospect which his house commands, taking Hen- 
 rietta Guillemot along with me. There, my love, I 
 received your letter, and with what delight did I 
 peruse it. I was much amused by your description 
 of the full-dressed ladies ; but one must not conceive 
 prejudices against people in the country, on account 
 of the singularity of their dress. Recollect that wo- 
 men may be intelligent, well educated and amiably 
 though they cannot consult fashionable oracles like 
 Leroi and mademoiselle Despeaux. 
 
 To-morrow morning my balcony will be finished. 
 . Present my remembrances to good M. Bastide, and 
 ^xny beloved Nina. Adieu, my dear Henry ; I send 
 you a thousand kisses. 
 
 13th Thermidor, Year IX. 
 Yesterday I looked most impatiently for a letter 
 from my dear traveller j but the messenger arrived 
 without bringing a line from you. I passed a very 
 uneasy night. I dreamed I saw you languishing in 
 sickness. Methought you had met with an accident ; 
 I knew not how ; but you were overwhelmed with 
 sorrow at the idea of being obliged to stop short in 
 
MADAME CAMP AN. llo 
 
 the career on which you have entered, and to re- 
 nounce a profession which requires health and ac- 
 tivity. The approach of day relieved me from these 
 painful feelings. On awaking, I reached your por- 
 trait, which is placed^ at my bed-side, and while I 
 gazed on it, my heart poured forth the anguish 
 which a fond mother feels in the absence of her be- 
 loved son. But these melancholy thoughts gradually 
 vanished, as the dawn of morning and the light of 
 reason approached, dispelling at once the shades of 
 night, and the clouds which enveloped my fancy. I 
 unfold to you, my dear Henry, all my inmost 
 thoughts and feelings, to enable you to see the place 
 you occupy in my heart, and to convince you how 
 entirely it depends on your conduct to render me 
 happy and contented, or to plunge me into the abyss 
 of affliction and regret. Happy the woman, who in 
 old age can say : " I am the mother of a worthy 
 man, a useful member of society ; and he, in his 
 turn, will be the parent of a line of offspring who 
 will never disgrace the honourable name they in- 
 herit." How am I distressed to observe so many- 
 young men of the present generation, condemned by 
 silly pride to a kfe of inactivity, which must inevit- 
 ably lead to ruin. I see the sons of illustrious fami- 
 lies disdaining to accept employments beneath their 
 former rank, and from aristocratic feelings, declining 
 to bear arms in defence of their country ; thus doom- 
 ing themselves to the sad alternative of prirading the 
 streets of Paris, or if they can afford it, oraiTcing on 
 horseback along the Boulevards, or in the Bois de 
 Boulogne. Within the circle of my acquaintance I 
 could enumerate, in the cast of the old nobility, sis 
 L 
 
114 LETTLRS or 
 
 K***'s, two B***'s,two M^**'s two G***'s, and 
 three N**=^'s, who are now sunk into absolute in- 
 significance, and plunged into disgraceful inactivity. 
 If the laws of equality have deprived them of their 
 privileges, the laws of honour should deter them from 
 pursuing a course which renders them useless to 
 their country. 
 
 12th Fructidor, Year IX. 
 My dear Henry, 
 Eight long days must elapse ere you can receive 
 this letter, in spite of my ardent wishes for its speedy 
 arrival. Oh! that I could give it wings, that it 
 might fly to my beloved child with the consolation 
 and encouragement which I trust it will impart to 
 him. The sensations you now experience, my dear, 
 are common to all young persons of susceptible feel- 
 ing, on their first separation from beloved parents ; 
 but you must banish this melancholy, which, if in- 
 dulged, w^ould degenerate into a weakness degrading 
 to your sex, and deprive you of reason, courage, re- 
 flection and activity. In the first place you must be 
 aware that you could not remain with me without 
 retarding the progress of your education, which 
 could only be properly pursued in Paris. A man 
 should seek to gain information by travelling, he 
 must encounter and endure misfortune j contend 
 agamst danger and temptation, and finally temper his 
 mind so as to give it the strength and solidity of the 
 hardest metal. All this cannot be effected in a se- 
 dentary life. It is a man's business to direct, to form 
 
:1IADAME CAMP AN, 115 
 
 and to defend his fortune ; it is a woman's task to 
 obey, and to attend to her family and domestic af- 
 fairs. The qualities suited to the female sex are so 
 unfitted to men, that tht^ir utter condemnation is pro- 
 nounced by the. term effeminate. 
 
 Consider that you have now attaine I the age, 
 when neither money, prayers nor tears could have 
 saved you from being sent as a soldier to distant 
 countries; where you must have carried heavy bag- 
 gage on your back, and have encountered death at 
 every step, not only on the field of battle, but amidst 
 the fatigue Avhich has proved fatal to thousands of 
 young men, who, like yourself, were nursed in the 
 lap of comfort and competency. Praise God, my 
 dear, instead of uttering complaints ; for without 
 any feeling of bigotry, this habit of addressing our 
 prayers and thanksgivings to a Power superior to 
 any on earth, tends to elevate and enlarge the mind, 
 to support us under affliction, and to render us hum- 
 ble and unassuming in prosperity. 
 
 Let me impress upon you the importance of at- 
 tentive application to business ; for that affords cer- 
 tain consolation, and is a security against lassitude, 
 and the vices v/hich idleness creates. Besides, as I 
 mentioned to you, in a letter which you must already 
 have received, you are at Marseilles, solely with the 
 view of completmg your commercial education. I^a- 
 bour, therefore, diligently, to form your st} le, and 
 your hand writing, and also to gain a knowledge of 
 arithmetic. Having accomplished all this, you shall 
 return and pass a few weeks with your mother, who 
 will rejoice to see you advancing in the career of 
 honour and prosperit\'. There is. a touch of apathy 
 
116 LETTERS OF 
 
 in your disposition ; and perhaps you will scarcely 
 believe me, when I assure you, that in this respect 
 my own character resembles your's. But the artifi- 
 cial strength which we exert from principle, and a 
 sense of duty, increases our stock of natural strength. 
 
 After t -ssing two or three months with me, it is 
 my intention to send you to England, where new 
 manners, a new country, and a language which you 
 cannot fail to admire, will afford inexhaustible sources 
 of pleasure to you. Once more, my dear Henry, I 
 implore you, make a good use of your time. Send me 
 the name of M*'^^^s chief clerk, and I will write 
 him a letter which will, perhaps, help to increase his 
 interest for you. Your second letter somewhat eased 
 my mind respecting the coolness of M***. How 
 can you have incurred his dislike ? A young man, 
 on whose character the plodding of business has yet 
 exercised no influence, is almost always sure to 
 please in society. You hinted, once, at some un- 
 pleasant conversation which occurred at table, and 
 you have said not a word more on the subject. Tell 
 me, tell your mother, without reserve, if any thing 
 has happened to vex you. 
 
 Your second letter is, however, consolatory. It 
 describes you seated in a good post-chaise, with a 
 travelling companion. How deeply am I interested 
 in this companion. Is he agreeable ? above all, is 
 he good ? Is he devoted to dissipation and idleness ; 
 or is he intent on the pursuit of advancement and 
 prosperity ? How anxious I feel to know this young 
 man's character. Let me have a minute account 
 of him. Be cautious how you form connexions ; 
 and hesitate not to break them off on the first propo- 
 
MADAME CAMPAN. 11*^ 
 
 sition to adopt any course which your affectionate 
 mother warns you to avoid, as fatal to your real hap- 
 piness, and to the attainment of that respect and es- 
 teem which it should be your ambition to enjoy. 
 
 My dear son, be a man, and steadily pursue the 
 strait and certain course which leads to honour and 
 happiness. It is not a smiling path j but at the jour- 
 ney's end every reward and indemnity will await 
 you. On the other hand, the career of vice is full 
 of seductive charms. It is strewed with flowers, and 
 smoothed by the fatal illusions of indolence and lux- 
 ury ; while the smiles of beauty, and the deceitful 
 favours of fortune, combine to intoxicate the unwary 
 victim, and to impel him onward to the brink of the 
 precipice whence he is hurled headlong, never to rise 
 again. 
 
 Your uncle is not here, and has no intention of 
 coming. This is a mere idle tale ; but I have no 
 doubt it was told you without any mischievous de« 
 sign. I must now bid you farewel. This is Sun- 
 day ; it is the festival of the Loges, and I have not 
 been able to write a line without twenty interruptions. 
 Adieu, then, my dear Henry, be prudent and dili- 
 gent ; be attentive in the discharge of your duty, and 
 join cheerfully in the recreations which are afforded 
 you. Adieu ! once more. How painful it is to 
 leave you ; but I will write to you often, very often 
 be assured of that. 
 
 Your nurse is here, and has delivered the letter to 
 me. Dr. and madame Lecomte send their love to 
 you. 
 
 L 2 
 
118 LETTERS or 
 
 14th Fructidor, Year IX. 
 3It dear Son, 
 I wrote to you yesterday, and this morning, and 
 with undiminished pleasure I take up my pen to ad- 
 dress you again. Your young heart feels the want 
 of a guide like your mother, and by continual cor- 
 respondence, I will endeavour to bring myself near 
 you. M. Audibert is at 3Iarseilles ; find out where 
 he lives, and give him the enclosed letter. It can- 
 not but be gratifying to you, to behold the face of 
 one whom you have often seen at Saint Germain, a 
 frequent visitor at your mother's house. Besides, 
 he will introduce you to some good families ; not 
 that you may have the opportunity of idly wasting 
 your time ; for you know too well that you are not 
 at Marseilles, and absent from me for the sake of 
 pleasure ; but these introductions will afford the 
 means of passing your leisure hours agreeably, and 
 will enable you to avoid the improper connexions 
 into which a young man is always liable to be led by 
 another young man, of whose character he is igno- 
 rant. How anxious I am to know something about 
 the companion of your journey. Is he well inform- 
 ed ? Is he industrious ? What are his habits and con- 
 nexions ? Answer all these questions, so important to 
 a mother, who knows all the influence of early friend- 
 ships. Alas! that I am not a man, since my only 
 child mast pursue the course which the education of 
 his sex indispensably requires ! How I wish that I 
 could travel with him, guide him and stimulate him 
 to the love of industry by my precepts, and above 
 all by my example. To me this would be second 
 
MADAME CAMPAN. 119 
 
 life ; the true enjoyment of existence. But the cares 
 required in infancy, and in the tender years of child- 
 hood, being once fulfilled, your nnother like all other 
 mothers, can do no more than give you good advice. 
 Oh ! may my counsel prove useful to my Henry, 
 and may I, like my sister, one day justly pride my- 
 self in the conduct of my son ! How happy shall I 
 be when the chorus of general approbation salutes my 
 ear ! Then I may sincerely say I have lived long 
 enough, and I may commence a new career of exis- 
 tence, to enjoy with you your happiness and prospe- 
 rity. My dear son, when you peruse these lines, 
 know that they come from the very bottom of my 
 heart ;^-ihat the unstudied phrases, which flow rapid- 
 ly under my pen, are dictated by the utmost warmth 
 of maternal affection, 
 
 I enclose a letter for M ^^'^, jun. Deliver it to 
 him immediately. This young man is said to be ra- 
 ther too much addicted to pleasure and company ; 
 but there is a wide distance between his condition 
 and your's ,; and while you are resolved to distin- 
 guish yourself by industry, application, and other 
 good qualities, there can be little danger uf your be- 
 ing led astray. Consider any kindness you may ex- 
 perience in the light of a favour, and not as an at- 
 tention due to you. A young clerk can have no 
 claim upon attention ; therefore divest yourself of 
 all such ideas. Before you write to me, read over 
 my letters ; they will serve to guide you in your an- 
 swers. The distance which separates us makes me 
 so anxious to hear from you, that I am distressed 
 when you neglect replying to any of my letters. 
 Tell me how you are accommodated with respect to 
 
12Q LETTERS or 
 
 board and lodging. You knovr r.zw my heart locgs 
 to know even' thing concerning you. Improve your 
 hand- writing, and attend assiduously to business. 
 Recollect that to whatever profession you might 
 have devoted yourself, whether a soldier, a lawyer, 
 a physician, a merchant, or a farmer, diligence is in- 
 dispensably necessary to ensure success. 
 
 I went to the Fair des Loges, where I was much 
 amused. Madame de **** took me with her, in an 
 e'c^rr: f ' eled carriage, where we rode at our 
 
 ease, a~ . ; rrfect safety. The populace were 
 very merry, but at the same time very orderly ; for 
 there was not the least disturbance. The fair was 
 graced by the presence of numerous Parisian beau- 
 ties, dressed aja grecque. The amusements varied 
 according to the different tastes and circumstances of 
 the parties who partook of them. There was one 
 group engaged io drinking, and at a little distance 
 was another, swallowing ices. One party was seated 
 on the grass^ feasting on a leg of mutton ; and others 
 were regaling themselves with chickens and savoury 
 pies. One was contentedly drinking a glass of 
 wretched wine, while his neighbour was refreshing 
 himself with an ice cream. All entertained thcm= 
 selves in the best way their means would permit; and 
 I was highly amused in contemplating the picture. 
 But the hand of equality, which is felt by all, diffused 
 intolerable clouds of dust, covering, without distinc 
 tion, the elegant rose-coloured shawl, and the huii: 
 ble blue cotton petticoat. 
 
 Adieu, my dear son. The sketch of this pleasant 
 rural scene must conclude my letter; but I cannot 
 fold it up, without once more giving you assurances 
 
MADAME GAMPAN. l2l 
 
 jf that ardent affection which must be visible in every 
 line I trace, and which I can never, for a moment, 
 
 cease to cherish for you. 
 
 24th Fructidor, Year IX. 
 My dear Henry, 
 
 I have not yet received the letter which you en- 
 trusted to the care of G**^. I have heard nothing 
 of his return ; and I presume that, without bestow- 
 ing a thought on me or Saint-Germain, he has made 
 a visit to Paris, to enjoy the pleasures from which 
 his brother withdrew him. 
 
 Your last letter very much pleased me, and in- 
 creased my impatience for that which was immedi- 
 ately to follow it. I observe that your ideas are 
 more accurately expressed, and more methodically 
 arranged, than in your former letters. From amidst 
 the tints which were confusedly mingled together on 
 your palette, you have selected the proper colours 
 for painting your sentiments and reflections with cor- 
 rect effect. I see you will be able to write welU 
 When you inform me of the manner in which you 
 arrange your time, I will send you some books, free 
 of carriage. In addition to the multitude of things 
 with which the well-informed man should store his 
 memory, it is necessary to direct attention to those 
 acquisitions which are most immediately condusive 
 to happiness ; and the art of writing with elegance 
 and facility is certainly one of these. I shall send 
 you a new edition of madame de Sevigne's Letters, 
 and of Cicero's Letters to Atticus, together with two 
 
122 LETTERS OF 
 
 Other volumes of the Epistles of that prince of ora- 
 tors, who excelled in the art of rivetting the bonds of 
 friendship by the charm of his correspondence, as 
 well as in the power of moving the feelings, and ex- 
 citing the admiration of his auditors in the senate. I 
 know that you cannot devote any great deal of time 
 to reading ; but you will easily see how much may 
 be done by a just distribution of your hours, I do 
 not disapprove of your occasionally enjoying a little 
 recreation, with the two companions who have shewn 
 such a wish to cultivate your acquaintance ; but do 
 not make yourself the slave of pleasure. Endeavour 
 to snatch a hw moments for the practice of drawing, 
 in which you have already made so much progress. 
 Never neglect to appropriate a certain portion of 
 your time to useful reading ; and do not imagine 
 that even half an hour a-day, devoted to that object, 
 will be unprofitable. The best way of arranging and 
 employing one's time is by calculation ; and I have 
 often reflected that half an hour's reading, every day, 
 will give one hundred and eighty hours reading in 
 course of the year. Great fortunes are amassed by 
 little savings ; and poverty, as well as ignorance, 
 are occasioned by the extra\ again waste of money 
 and time. My heart prompts me to give you counsel 
 on every point in which your future happiness may 
 be concerned. My affection for you, my dear Henry, 
 is still as actively alive as when, in your infancy^ I 
 patiently removed every little stone from a certain 
 space in my garden, lest, when you first ran alone, 
 you might fail and hurt your face on the pebbles. 
 Bui the snares now spread beneath your steps are 
 far more dangerous. They are strengthened by se- 
 
MADAME CAMPAN. 123 
 
 (luction, and the ardour of youth would hurry you 
 forward to the allurement; but that my watchful 
 care, and the confidence you repose in me, serve to 
 counteract the influence of this two-fold power. 
 Your bark is gliding near a rapid current ; but your 
 fond mother stands on the shore, and with her eyes 
 fixed on her dear navigator, anxiously exclaims, in 
 the moment of danger, " Reef your sails, mind your 
 *^ helm." Oh ! may you never forget, or cease to 
 be guided by these warnings, which come from my 
 very inmost heart. 
 
 28th Fructidor, Year IX. 
 My dear Henry, 
 
 I have just closed a packet of letters on which I 
 have been engaged since nine in the morning ; and 
 the sun is now sinking behind the mountain of Marly, 
 exactly fronting the windows of my library, whence 
 I am now writing to you. I am heartily tired, as 
 you may suppose, but when once I allow my corres- 
 pondence to get into arrear, I am obliged to doom 
 myself to a day's penance, in order to clear my desk. 
 It will be well if I retain my strength and activity a 
 few years longer, for your future good, and to se- 
 cure to myself a competency for old age, when the 
 pure and resigned heart tranquilly awaits the ap- 
 pioach of death, without, however, ceasing to feel 
 interested in the scene of life, while it is still tied to 
 the world by the bonds of affection. 
 
 You have now entered upon your labours diligently. 
 Advance steadily in your new career. You must 
 
124 LETTERS OF 
 
 submit patiently to the discipline of the common 
 soldier. Consider that in any profession, if you be 
 determined, you may one day or other enjoy the 
 fortune and distinction of those who are at the head 
 of it. Determination is every thing ; it is the vehi- 
 cle which constantly drives one forward without ever 
 retrograding. I have seen J**^, and I think him 
 very agreeable. In the first place he spoke of my 
 son, whom he had seen more recently than I had ; 
 this is always sure to please a mother ; and secondly, 
 he informed me that you were well in health, and 
 comfortably lodged. You must, by this time, be in 
 possession of a quarto volume of my letters ; and the 
 anxiety which has so much depressed me, ought to 
 be at an end. I cannot understand the cause of this 
 delay : you may judge of it from the date of my let- 
 ters, in which I have always been punctual. 
 
 Madame Lecomte is gone to Sussy, to be present 
 at the marriage qf Armandine. She will, however, 
 return this evening. Her absence has rendered my 
 duty two-fold ; and therefore this letter must be 
 brief. I hope to receive one from you this evening, 
 and to learn that you are no longer disturbed by ap- 
 prehensions respecting my health, which has been 
 uniformly good. Adieu my love I 
 
 8th Vendemiaire, Year X. 
 
 Probably, my dear Henry, I am the first governess 
 
 who ever ventured to say to a young girl of fifteen : 
 
 ** Miss, you are handsome, very handsome. I 
 
 « choose to be the first to address this compliment 
 
madAaMe cam pan. 1:jj 
 
 *' to you, because I shall add to it the assurance your 
 " beauty will soon decay. In the duration of human 
 <' life, beauty lasts no longer than the bloom of the 
 *' rose, which we see fading in the evening, while 
 <' we regret that we did not pluck it in the morning. 
 " You are handsome, 1 say again, but I add, with 
 •« equal truth, that you are silly, vain, giddy, igno- 
 '< rant, and somewhat unfeeling. Remember that 
 '< all these faults, instead of vanishing in a few years, 
 " like your beauty, will increase with age, and be a 
 «* torment to yourself, and to all connected with you, 
 ^* when your face will not retain a single handsome 
 *' feature." 
 
 This, my dear Henry, I said a few days ago to 
 one of my pupils, whose name, were I to mention it, 
 would add nothing to the force of the comparison 
 which I am about to draw. I shall, therefore, say 
 to my son, without the fear of inspiring him with 
 misplaced or dangerous vanity : «' You are clever, 
 *' my dear Henry, very clever. But let not this 
 ^' flatter you. Talent is almost always a fatal gift, 
 " when unguided by prudence and industry. When 
 «' it escapes from the control of reason and virtue, 
 " it is a flame which, destroying every thing within 
 *' its reach, and the thick smoke which it emits, dis» 
 ^* torts every object, and prevents us from seeing 
 *' the road to happiness, if the flame be not employed 
 '< to kindle the torch of reason, which can alone 
 '< guide and direct us. Libertines, spendthrifts and 
 *< gamesters, are almost all clever. My father used 
 <^ to say, that in France, talent was to be found every 
 *'• where ; but that like a bill of exchange, it was of 
 " no value unless endorsed by reason." 
 
 I like to use metaphors that are derived from 
 IVI 
 
126 LETTERS Oi 
 
 commerce, because it is my wish that all your ideas 
 should be directed towards the ol)ject which ought 
 exclusively to engage you. 
 
 After this long preamble, I shall tell you that talent 
 enables us to judge, to choose, and to foresee; but 
 that young people of your age, if guided merely by 
 hastily-conceived impressions, are continually liable 
 to fall into mistakes. The facility of embellishing 
 false ideas, and smoothing down sophisms, is one 
 of the unfortunate results of ill-directed talent. The 
 inconsequence of your reasoning sufficiently proves 
 this. 
 
 M. D^***'s parents, you say, are unfortunately 
 circumstanced. You know well that you may, with 
 a few exceptions, compare your own case with his. 
 He is closely engaged in occupations which will, in 
 a short time, render him master of all the knowledge 
 requisite in the management of an extensiVe com- 
 mercial concern. You yourself wish to possess this 
 information ; you feel it to be indispensably neces- 
 sary to your advancement ; but you shrink from the 
 exertion which the acquisition of it demands. You 
 must be aware, that a young man without fortune, 
 and who is entirely dependent on the fruits of his 
 mother's industry, should indefatigably pursue the 
 means of providing for himself. If you do not 
 anxiously look forward to the time when you may 
 say : " I live by my own labour," I shall, my dear 
 son, think you very inconsiderate, and I shall be 
 grieved to see you make so ill a use of your under- 
 standing. Remember, too, that it depends on your- 
 self to avoid any thing like ill treatment, since your 
 own conduct may, if you please, render you btloved 
 and esteemed. Surely you ought to have no cau^ 
 
MA I) AMU ca:\ii^an. 127 
 
 to sa)' ihey do not like me ; they are prejudiced 
 ngainst me. People who are rich, powerful or proud, 
 love to protect yourh ; it is only success or preten- 
 sion that create enemies : they will not be wanting 
 when you rise to prosperity. But an unsuspecting, 
 modest and industrious joung man, possessing the 
 advantage of premature experience, measures half 
 his way to advancement in life, at the age when he 
 naturally gains friends and patrons. 
 
 IMay your mother's precepts conduct you to happi- 
 ness ! Let me be the guide of your youthful years, 
 and with pleasure I shall hereafter say : " You no 
 ** longer require my care ; be in your turn the guar- 
 *< dian of my declining life." 
 
 Yes, my dear Henry I will send you my portrait, 
 painted jn the same manner as the doctor's likeness; 
 and you will read in my eyes the expression of tbe 
 love I cherish for you. 
 
 I shall write to M. A^=^** to-morrow, to request 
 that he will purchase you some books, for which I 
 will pay him when I see him here. If you are very 
 eager to get them, shew him this letter with a thou- 
 sand remembrances From me. A^*"^* leaves Grig- 
 non on the day after to-morrow. I will then send 
 you every thing you want ; but he has been, for this 
 month past, almost continually in the country. 
 
 The minister of the Interior dined with mr } ester- 
 day. All went oil as usual, with infinite compliments 
 and expressions of admiration. My professors will 
 be appointed, and all will have reason to be satisfied. 
 
 You must, by tb.is time, be possessed df whole vo- 
 lumes of my letters, every line of which breathes 
 expressions oi' the warmest maternal affection. I 
 
i28 LETTERS OF 
 
 once more reiterate my recommendation of assiduity, 
 
 industry, and prudence. There is some talk of peace 
 in Paris. What a happiness ! but the report has 
 been so often circulated, that we can place no reli- 
 ance on it. I am sitting in my library writing this 
 letter, and I enclose it in a kiss, which I send off on 
 the loveliest evening imaginable. Adieu ! 
 
 loth Vendemiaire, Year X. ^ 
 My dear Son, 
 I wrote only a few lines to you yesterday, just for 
 the sake of relieving your anxiety j and I am glad to 
 find that the receipt of a letter from your mother is 
 one of your greatest pleasures. You would wish to 
 hear from me every other day. For my part I en- 
 joy no happiness like that of corresponding with you; 
 and the consolation of sending you letters, which, I 
 trust, will prove useful to you, in some degree, les- 
 sens the sorrow occasioned by your absence. 
 
 I enclose two letters from your uncle ; I shed 
 tears as I perused them, I find that honourable 
 feelings of pride deter him from making certain ap- 
 plications ; and I must therefore make up my mind 
 never to see him more, or at least very seldom. The 
 absent are not thought of by a newly established go- 
 vernment : and the thousands of favours of which 
 they can dispose, would require to be doubled, to 
 satisfy the expectations of ail who have had a share 
 in securing our extraordinary triumphs. The ser- 
 vices of my brother are of older date than those of 
 any other indiv.dual now living ; and though it is 
 difficult to judge impartially where one's own inte- 
 
MADAME CAMPAN. 129 
 
 r-esls are so nearly concerned, yet I feel that the go- 
 vernment cannot be reproached for neglecting a man 
 who is out of sight, and whose services preceded the 
 period when the individuals, now in power, were 
 called upon to exercise their important duties. If 
 my brother were here, he would, I doubt not, be 
 speedily rewarded as a man who might be usefully 
 employed. But circumstances detain him elsewhere, 
 and the tender ties of a wife and three children have? 
 in some measure, naturalized him in a foreign coun- 
 try'. You, my dear Henry, will, I hope, one day^ 
 feel the power of these sacred connexions ; and the 
 affection which you cherish for your mother, shews 
 me what is to be expected of you in the characters 
 of husband and father. Virtues are linked to each 
 other ; and, unfortunately, vices are in like manner 
 chained together. How happy is he whose condu-ct 
 and attainments justly authorise him to enjoy the ti- 
 tie of an honourable and well-informed man. He 
 whose fortune is the fruit of his own labour, whose 
 tastes are well directed, and whose mind is free from 
 the influence of bad passions, certainly enjoys all the 
 felicity which belongs to mortal existence. I there= 
 fore conjure you, my dear son, to apply yourself ear= 
 nestly to business, to correct the little faults of your 
 temper. Indulge ev^ry enchanting dream of future 
 happiness, for this is not only a source of present 
 pleasure, but also a stimulus to future exertion. It 
 is right to cherish the illusions of imagination, when 
 they are directed to objects which tend to elevate the 
 mind. The soldier, whose bosom is fired by warlike 
 enthusiasm, may fancy, while sleeping in his bivouac, 
 that he is beneath the damask tent of the general-in- 
 chief J and he cannot conceive this idea, unaccom~ 
 isl 2 
 
130 LETTERS 01- 
 
 panied by feelings of exalted courage, and a sense of 
 the duties required in the high rank to which his 
 thoughts are directed. The young student in the 
 Universities of Leipsick and Gottingen, who patient- 
 ly pores over huge volumes, to make himselt familiar 
 with the law of nations, and who stores his memory 
 with the various treaties that have been concluded 
 between belligerent powers, never thinks of being 
 sent as ambassador to one of the great capitals of Eu- 
 rope, except on the supposition, that he has sur- 
 mounted all the difficulties that attend his progress. 
 So it is with the young clerk in a commercial house. 
 If he dream of possessing a house in the Rue Cerutii, 
 or in any other part of the Chaussee d'Autin ; if he 
 fancy himself the owner of an elegant country resi- 
 dence, a few leagues from Paris, he is forced to go 
 back to the point from which his imagination took 
 wing, and reflect that it is only by dint of regularity, 
 economy, intelligence and activity, that he can win 
 the confidence requisite to ensure his advancement. 
 Nature has given you a good letter of recommenda- 
 tion ; namely, the power of pleasing: but she has 
 endowed you with an unfortunate quality in your 
 suspicious disposition, and your readiness to take 
 offence. I will tell you a truth which you cannot yet 
 know, from your own experience ; and this is, that 
 a young man of sixteen has no enemies to fear,.-: 
 People feel a pleasure in advising, supporting and^ 
 protecting vouth. A man must be possessed of pow- 
 er before he is assailed by rivals and enemies. You 
 will have your's if you prosper in life. What will 
 become of you then, since you fancy yourself an ob- 
 ject of enmity, at an age when you must naturally 
 inspire kindness ? At present, any rivals you may 
 
MADAME CAMPAN. 1:31 
 
 have can only be on a level with yourself : they are, 
 therefore, young ; and in youth any malevolent feel- 
 ings, excited by ambition, are easily subdued by po- 
 lite and friendly attention's. Such sentiments are 
 more to be feared at a later period of life. 
 
 I must also advise you to be less hasty in pro- 
 nouncing your opinion of people. I do not like to 
 hear you exclaim so rashly that this one is a fool, 
 and the other a coxcomb. Form your own opinion, 
 if you please ; but do not give it utterance, until time 
 convince you that it is correct. How often will a 
 generous action compel you to repent having bestow- 
 ed the title of miser, on a man who may happen to 
 be somewhat parsimonious in his habits. A well 
 written letter, bearing proofs of infornnation and 
 judgment, may force you to acknowledge that a 
 timid young man, whom you may have beard awk- 
 %vardly stammering out a few words, is not the fool 
 which you presumed he was. In such casts, if you 
 keep your opinion to yourself, the mistake is soon 
 I'ectilied ; but if, on the contrary, you have promul- 
 gated your rashly-formed judgment, how can you 
 retract your indiscreet declarations in every quarter 
 where you may be sensible they must injure the in- 
 dividual to whom they relate. It is by reflections of 
 this kind, my dear Henry, that you must endeavour 
 to form your character, and to render yourself truly 
 worthy of esteem. 
 
 25th Vendemiaire, Year X. 
 Endeavour, my dear son, to discover the cause of 
 the coolness shewn by M***. I declare to you that 
 
132 LETTERS OF 
 
 I never spoke of the hope you entertain to any one, 
 except the doctor, who certainly is not the man to go 
 to Paris and make acquaintance with iM**=^, for the 
 purpose of relating to him a circumstance in which 
 he himself could feel interf^sted only through his re- 
 gard for you. Question yourself — have you com- 
 mitted any mischievous trick ? Have you suffered 
 any imprudent observations to escape you ? The les- 
 son which you received at Neuilly, on your first en- 
 trance upon the world, ought to have made a lasting 
 impression on your mind. Have you shewn any 
 aversion to business ? Have you been less diligent 
 than you should be ? Have you given offence to any 
 one ? Examine yourself closely, as if you were on 
 confession ; and your heart being innocent, and your 
 intentions pure, go straight to your friend and ex- 
 plain yourself to him. If you find you have been 
 in the wrong, shew that you have good sense and 
 candour to confess your fawlt ; for none but fools 
 refuse to acknowledge the errors they have com- 
 mitted. Do this, and be assured that he who at first 
 gave you so kind a reception, will not hesitate to for- 
 give you, and to restore you to that friendship which 
 is so essential to your present and future happiness. 
 I wish I were near you at this moment, to comfort 
 and encourage you. I have just received your letter, 
 and though my sight is very bad, I sit down to answer 
 it by candle-light. I fondly embrace you, my dear 
 boy. I am as anxious to have a letter from you, as 
 you are to receive this. I wish it could fly to you. 
 Adieu, m.y dear Henry. Be not downcast or impa- 
 tient. Let your conduct be correct, and continue to 
 love your mother, who adores you. 
 
MADAME CAMPAN, 133 
 
 10th Frimaire, Year X. 
 
 1 have just received your letters, dated the 29th 
 Brumaire, and the 1st Frimaire, I assure you, my 
 love, the melancholy tone in which you write has se- 
 riously distressed me. Whenever I understood that 
 M. Cachard was coming to Paris, I concluded that 
 you would be solitary and comfortless. As to my 
 wish, as to the happiness I myself should enjoy in 
 pressing you to my bosom, I banish the fond idea, 
 when I reflect that the journey would oblige you to 
 suspend, for the space of two months, your arithme- 
 tical lessons, which are so important in the occupa- 
 tions in which you are daily engaged, A prudent 
 mother, who looks to her son's real interests, wil- 
 lingly resigns herself to these sacrifices of affection, 
 
 I can very well conceive the enthusiastic spirit 
 which animated the Roman matrons. Had you en- 
 tered the army, I would have wished you to raise 
 yourself to distinction, at the hazard of your life. 
 In the commercial profession, it is necessary that 
 you should labour diligently in youth, to enable you 
 afterwards to live at ease, instead of being tied to the 
 desk to post your ledger in a heated counting-house. 
 Fortune helps us forward in the first step; but industry 
 enables us to attain the second. Fortune may favour 
 us again, it is true ; but if we trust to her aid alone, 
 we shall only go limping forward, and be in constant 
 danger of falling. I must certainly acknowledge, 
 that fortune has helped me in my establishment j but 
 at present I must depend on my own efforts. Yes, 
 in spite of my advanced age, I find it necessary to 
 exert myself more than ever, and zealously discharge 
 the duties of my situation. Never allow yourself to 
 be disheartened, my dear Henry. 
 
134 LETTERS or 
 
 While I write this letter, I am fitting in the place 
 which you say is so often present to you in idea. 
 My sister is seated before me, in the arm-chair next 
 the side-board. She has just broken open a letter 
 from Lucien, in which she reads the following pas- 
 sage :*— '< 1 he drum is now beating as the signal for 
 '* embarkation. We are all in the midst of confu- 
 ** sion. In an hour hence we shall be at sea, con- 
 ♦* signed to the chances of that uncertain element. 
 " You need not expect to hear from me WTthin less 
 '' than four months." INly sister is bathed in tears, 
 and I cannot rt- frain from weeping. Such, my son, 
 is the fate of mankind : when once the years of 
 childhood are past, we must prepare for laborious 
 exertions and painful vicissitudes. Learn to behave 
 like a man, since nature has placed you in that dis- 
 tinguished class of the human species. Do not de- 
 plore the want of friends of your own age. It is bet- 
 ter that you should have a friend older than yourself; 
 therefore cultivate the friendship of M. Cachard. 
 Your uncle's indifference for youthful companions 
 proved of great advantage to him. 
 
 Madame ***** is an excellent teacher ; just such 
 a one as I want. \Vrite to her on this subject. 
 
 Do not think about plays, or anything which may 
 distract your attention from business. Answer all 
 my questions punctually. Adieu, my dearest son, 
 my pride, my future happiness, adieu. 
 
 Vendemiaire, Year X. 
 This letter is endorsed in the hand writing of 
 madame Campan's son : Vertdtmiaire^ from iruj m' 
 ther. 
 
I^IADAME GAMP AN. l^J 
 
 My de \r Henry, 
 1 am very much pleased with what you tell me 
 respecting the intentions of M. Cachard, and the 
 continued marks of friendship which you receive 
 from M. Bastide. They both seem inclined to pro- 
 tect you against any unkind treatment. Profit by 
 the lessons you receive from the individual who has 
 been chosen by M. Bastide, and who, though haughty 
 and pedantic, nevertheless possesses a knowledge of 
 the particular branch of business which you are pur- 
 suing. It is most essential that you should acquire 
 information on a subject on which your prosperity 
 depends. At this moment I feel particular satisfac- 
 tion in looking forward to your future success ; for 
 my advanced age and the impediments which per- 
 sonal jealousy throw in my way, almost deprive me 
 of the hope of increasing my fortune. Indeed, it is 
 not unlikely that after all the fatigue and trouble I 
 have suffered, my old age may require the support 
 of filial affection. A vexatious circumstance, arising 
 out of the malevolence of the world, has just now 
 occurred to me. A lady of Lille, who has corres- 
 ponded with me about six months, being pleased 
 with the plainness and candour of my letters, and 
 with the account I gave her of my plan of education, 
 lately wrote to me as follows : *' At length I am pre- 
 •^ paring to depart for Saint-Germain, where I shall 
 '^ enjoy the pleasure of seeing the amiable and vir- 
 '< tuous woman, to whose care I am about to confide 
 <^ all I hold most dear. I shall have the happiness 
 '* of seeing the object of my tenderest affection, 
 " grated with every eatimable qualification of mind 
 '* and heart. I am now in the midst of all the con- 
 *•* fusion necessarily attendant on my approaching de- 
 
136 LETTERS or 
 
 <' parture from home ! but 1 am delighted at the 
 *« thought of becoming acquainted with so amiable 
 " a woman as you, &c.'' 
 
 The letter was filled with expressions of the warm- 
 est regard. The lady arrived in Paris, and having 
 got introduced to a set of people hostilav,^ me and 
 my establishment, she suddenly changed her mind, 
 alleging, among various groundless excuses, that her 
 income would not enable her to place her daughter 
 under my tuition, and she never even came to see 
 the woman whose letters, she declared, had com- 
 pletely won her heart. I have experienced so many 
 similar instances of malevolence from various quar- 
 ters, that I cannot help thinking society is now more 
 depraved than ever. But happily I am occasionally 
 rewarded by the approbation of the "real lovers of the 
 arts and education ; and by reflecting that the moral 
 prmciples which I inculcate in the minds of my pu- 
 pils, cannot fail to render them exemplary women, 
 whose conduct will reflect honour on my old age. 
 This is my greatest consolation, next to that of pos- 
 sessing a son, the only surviving remnant of a family, 
 whose situation at court, and the part which I was 
 there required to act, have, in a great measure, 
 caused, the numerous attacks with which I have 
 been assailed during life. Court favour is oftener a 
 misfortune than a blessing, owing to the envy which 
 it constantly excites. Make no mention of these 
 disclosures and complaints, which must be kept se- 
 cret, if we would not add to the triumph of the 
 wicked, and even promote their success. But it is 
 gratifying to unbosom one's feelings to a beloved 
 son, and thus to ease the burden that oppresses one's 
 heart. INI. Dubreuil also administers consolatioQ to 
 
MADAME CAMPAN, 137 
 
 me ; his pure philosophy enables me to bear up 
 against the many vexations to which I have been 
 exposed since the return of the priests and emi- 
 grants ; for within the last eight or ten months I 
 have been assailed with unusual severity. The party 
 spirit at present prevailing is sufficiently manifest, 
 from a recent article in a journal, written by an ec- 
 clesiastic. It is there observed, with all priestly 
 charity, that the restoration of the nunnery of Saint- 
 Thomas, at Saint-Germain, will doubtless do away 
 with those fashionable, showy, and impure establish- 
 ments, in which all the morality of education is de- 
 rived from romances. How lamentable it is to see 
 party spirit thus pervert the understanding, and un- 
 dermine every principle of justice ! I was first perse- 
 cuted by the philosophers, whose opinions bordered 
 on atheism, for having in my establishment respected 
 religious opinions, and maintained the observance of 
 pious worship, divested of monastic superstition ; 
 and I have since been tormented and calumniated 
 by intoUerant bigots, who in the name of a God of 
 peace, would consign to damnation all w^ho do not 
 profess the Catholic faith. The medium between 
 these violent opinions and sentiments is certainly the 
 course which true virtue and prudence suggest. 
 But there is no satisfying people who are controled 
 by furious passions. One must be content to endure 
 their hostility on all hands. I would not enter into 
 these details, my dear Henry, but because they may 
 enable you to form some just ideas respecting the 
 world on which you arp now about to enter. 
 
 V N 
 
138 LETTERS OF 
 
 14th Brumaire, Year XI 
 My dear Henry, 
 
 I will communicate to you all the reflections which 
 have at diflferent times occurred to me on the subject 
 of conscience. It is a matter which demands deep 
 consideration ; and I shall be glad if my ideas re- 
 specting it correspond with those which you have 
 yourself formed. 
 
 Conscience is one of the most extraordinary cir- 
 cumstances of our moral existence ; and the attentive 
 consideration of it, is alone sufficient to check impi- 
 ety. It is a divine sentiment, which always acts in a 
 way distinct and separate from our passions : it can- 
 not subdue them unaided by reason, but it never fails 
 to appeal to man, even at the moment when he is in- 
 fluenced by the delirium of passion. The old Catho- 
 lics, who borrowed from other religions the idea of 
 personifying the virtues and vices, represented con- 
 science and the passions as a good and a bad angel, 
 always opposed to each other, with respect to human 
 actions, though the operations of both are equally felt 
 by man. There cannot be a more correct image. A 
 writer of fairy tales has described a young prince, 
 whose guardian genius presented him with a ring, 
 enclosing conscience, which stung him whenever he 
 was about to commit a bad action.. The pious mo- 
 ralist contents himself with exhorting us to listen to the 
 voice of conscience: thus we say, conscience speaks, and 
 the expression is perfectly correct. What must be the 
 power of that inward voice when it is heard by the n)ur- 
 derer, about to imbrue his hands in the blood of his fel- 
 low creaturej or, when it appeals to the profligate, who 
 with the help of a few pieces of ivory, would sacrifice 
 his own and his wife's fortune, and deprive himself of 
 
MAUAME CAMP AN. 139 
 
 the means of educating and maintaining his young 
 family ! Conscience never leaves the guilty at rest, 
 though their crimes be unknown to all, save them- 
 selves. It banishes sleep from the down pillow ot* 
 the tyrant ; and not even the stillness of his curtain- 
 ed couch and carpeted chamber, can lull him to re- 
 pose. Tranquillity of conscience eases the anguish 
 of the man unjustly accused, and gives him fortitude 
 to bear unmerited punishment. Hypocrites fancy 
 they quiet their conscience by a temporary confes- 
 sion of their sins ; but the minister of God vainly 
 grants them absolution, if they be not resolutely de- 
 termined in future to avoid the snares of vice. Their 
 real conscience cannot surely be at ease. The truly 
 good and devout look for the reward of their purity 
 of conscience, in another and a better world. The 
 timid see the punishment of an evil conscience in the 
 torments of heil, and this terror has probably a salu- 
 tary effect on many. The truly honest man is not in- 
 fluenced either by the opinion^ of the world, or 
 by the hope of future reward, but by the con» 
 sciousness that he is acting right. This feeling 
 regulates his whole conduct, and if he scrupulously 
 obey the dictates of his conscience, he v^ill cer- 
 tainly be happy. This, my dear son, is all I 
 have to say to you on the subject of conscience. I 
 doubt not, my dear Henry, that while you have been 
 slumbering on your pillow, the voice of conscience 
 has sometimes addressed you thus : Come, my boy, 
 it is time to rise. The chief clerk is already at his 
 desk ; he will remark your indolence ; and remem- 
 ber, it is only by dint of activity and attention that 
 you can gain esteem. Your fortune depends on di- 
 iigence» Think on your mother, and on the happi<- 
 
140 LETTERS OF 
 
 ness which yoa good conduct will afford her. li 
 you do not actively exert yourself, you will have 
 ihe misfortune to see your parent doomed to labour 
 at that advanced age when she would require le- 
 pose Is not this what conscience has whis- 
 pered to you ? You see, my dear, I have considered 
 the subject in every point of view. 
 
 As to the sentiment by which conscience is ex- 
 cited, it must be ranked among those feelings which 
 are ever present in the mind, though we are unable 
 to account for them, and which have a useful influ- 
 ence on our happiness, if they serve to check our 
 presumption and arrogance. Man is the only being 
 who possesses a perfect knowledge of right and wrong; 
 and this consciousness he doubtless owes to, the su- 
 perior organization with which his Maker has en- 
 dowed him. But I have given you enough of mo- 
 rality. This letter might have been made the vehi- 
 cle of many metaphysical ideas ; but I have replied 
 to you with the plainness of a woman who has no 
 pretension to philosophy. 
 
 I will now tell you about the fine picture which 
 has recently been painted by the younger Guerin. 
 Proposals were made for purchasing it, to send 
 abroad ; but it appears that our government will not 
 suffer it to go out of France. It is, indeed, a picture 
 which reflects credit on the French school, and is 
 truly extraordinary, as the production of so yoimg 
 an artist. The day before yesterday, madame Louis 
 kindly sent her carriage and four to take me and 
 some of my pupils to see this admirable picture. We 
 afterwards dined with her, and at seven in the even- 
 ing 1 was home again, and seated on the sofa in my 
 closet, resting, after the fatigues of the day. I will 
 
MADAME CAMPAN. 141 
 
 give you a description of Guerin's picture, endea- 
 vouring to convey to you an idea of the impression 
 it produced on me. The composition is chaste and 
 simple, the colouring true to nature, the draperies 
 rich and elegant. A light grey back-ground repre- 
 sents the walls of the chamber of the palace in which 
 the scene is supposed to take place. On the right 
 are three columns, partly shaded by grey drapery, 
 suspended from the one to the other ; and in front 
 of this drapery is a superb couch, on which The- 
 seus and Phaedra are seated-, Theseus is looking 
 steadfastly at Hippolitus, against whom the accusa- 
 tion has just been made, and who occupies the left 
 of the picture. The head of Theseus is powerfully 
 expressive of indignation, mingled with the grief na- 
 tural to a father on discovering the guilt of his son. 
 His right hand, which is strongly pressed upon his 
 knee, indicates, by the powerful working of the mus^ 
 cles, the painful feelings which agitate his mind» 
 His left arm is thrown round the neck of his guilty 
 wife, and the hand, gently resting on the shoulder 
 of Phaedra, seems to denote the protection which he 
 afifbrds to the adultress, Phaedra, pale and languid^ 
 and her eyes swoln with weeping, has just delivered 
 the accusation. She holds in one of her thin, but 
 not withered hands, the sword of Hippolitus, which 
 seems to start out of the picture. Her constrained 
 attitude attests her compunction of conscience, and 
 the attentive spectator plainly perceives that she leels 
 herself unworthy to sit beside a husband whom she 
 has so basely dishonoured. Her agitation is observed 
 by the detestable (Enone, who. kneeling beside the 
 cotifieh, closes the picture on the right. This figure, 
 which seems a personification of vice, has her eyes 
 
 N 2 
 
142 LETTERS OF 
 
 fixed on the queen, on whom she glances a look of 
 encouragement, at the same time pressing her finger 
 to her lip in token of silence. The countenance of 
 Phsedra presents traces of former beauty. Her dress, 
 and her braided hair, which have been arranged by 
 the hands of her women, form a striking contrast 
 with the evident agitation of her mind. It is easy 
 to perceive that she feels no interest in these out- 
 ward decorations, and the spectator may almost 
 fancy he hears her say : — 
 
 "Que ces vains ornemens, que ces violes me pesent ! 
 *' Quelle importune main, en formant tous ces nosuds, 
 *' A prissoin sur mon front d'assembler mes cheveaux ?" 
 
 The opposite side of the picture is occupied solely 
 by Hippolitus : and here every thing is expressive of 
 innocence, tranquillity and purity of mind. The 
 youth who is standing before his father, is represent- 
 ed with the beauty of the Apollo Belvedere. It is 
 not exactly an ideal figure, though it is such a one as 
 is never seen in nature. His dress consists of a su- 
 perb lion's skin. He is resting on his bow, and 
 holding the leash of two beautiful grey-hounds, which 
 form an elegant group ; one lies sleeping at his feet 
 like an emblem of tranquillity and innocence. The 
 blush which suffuses the countenance of Hippolitus, 
 as well as the expression of his features, are pow- 
 erfully expressive of the shame he feels for the crime 
 of his step-mother, and the mingled feelings of con- 
 tempt and respect which compel him to remain si- 
 lent. He seems to say ;— 
 
 *' Approuvez le respect qui me ferme la bouche." 
 
 I forgot to mention, that between the figure of Hip- 
 politus, which, from its interest and completeness, 
 occupies one half the picture, there is a small antique 
 
MADAME CAMPAN. 143 
 
 table, on which are placed the helmet and sword of 
 Theseus. This part of the picture is exquisitely 
 finished. The drapery of Theseus is scarlet, trimmed 
 with gold ; that of Phaedra is a robe of fine linen, 
 and a mantle of a yellowish grey colour, resembling 
 in texture the beautiful Vigonia shawls, which are 
 at present so much worn by the ladies in Paris. 
 Having once seen this picture, one sees it for ever, 
 and in giving you this description of it, I have merely 
 traced out objects which are still visibly present to 
 me. Since it has been exhibited, the saloon has been 
 crowded beyond all conception. The works of the 
 old masters are not looked at. Not a glance is be- 
 stowed even on Duguet's picture, which is a pro- 
 duction of such superior merit, and which is now 
 rendered additionally interesting by the portrait of 
 the painter being hung next to it, crowned with lau- 
 rel by our young artists. The most laughable re- 
 marks are made upon Guerin's picture, by persons 
 who are attracted to the saloon, merely because 
 others go. A few days since, a man, examining the 
 figure of Hippolitus, said : — " I see nothing so won- 
 derful in this ; it is not at all like Saint-Phal." Tru- 
 ly it is not ; and this dissimilitude must embarrass 
 the actor, even more than it surprised the connois- 
 seur ; for Phaedra is acted every evening. 
 
 9th Ventose, Year XI. 
 My dear Henry, 
 You inform me that your attention to business has 
 called forth approbation. This at once reconciles 
 me to you j for I know I may implicitly rely on 
 
144 LETTERS or 
 
 your sincerity. — Let me but hear from the mouth of 
 jVI ##* these gratifying words ; " I am satisfied with 
 Henry ; he will do well." The music of Esther, 
 which all Paris has compared to the harmony of the 
 celestial spheres, was never listened to with more 
 rapturous delight than this assurance will convey to 
 your poor mother. 
 
 Think on my past misfortunes, and on my truly 
 unhappy marriage. Do not, I conjure you, deprive me 
 of the consolation which I am entitled to expect from 
 you, and which alone can soothe my heart. Let me 
 have to say I am the mother of an honest and res- 
 pected man, and I shall die happy. I was dis- 
 pleased with you ; but I am reconciled. Write to 
 me and tell me every thing. I will send you a long 
 letter to-morrow. 
 
 rth Floreal, Year XI IL 
 
 ******** 
 Now for your dissertation. Endeavour to pro- 
 cure 2L work which w^as the subject of much discus- 
 sion about thirty years ago. It is the production of 
 a woman of considerable talent, and of a singular 
 turn of mind, who was connected with Bertin ; the 
 Chevalier must therefore have known her. The 
 work is entitled Doubts on received Opinions. The 
 time-servers of the day joined in crying down this 
 feminine production, I dare say the edition which 
 was published in a small form, is now out of print ; 
 for every body was anxious to procure a copy of it. 
 The work concludes with a very well drawn parallel 
 between public and private education j and the au- 
 
MADAME CAMP AN. 145 
 
 thoress is decidedly favourable to the tbrmer. I was 
 very much startled on reading it ; for I then thought 
 that private education was the preferable plan, and I 
 found my opinions ably refuted. 
 
 Read what La Harpe says respecting the tutors of 
 Fabre d'Eglantine. Though he treats the question 
 of education only with respect to the mistaken system 
 of Rousseau, and the superficial ideas of society in 
 general, yet he makes some good observations on the 
 subject of colleges, and the salutary effect of public 
 education. Read also Marmontel's volume relating 
 to his college ; but I particularly recommend to you 
 the work which I first mentioned. 
 
 The power of education is to be your war-horse, 
 and you must make it pace about in every direction. 
 It consists in the necessity, the habit of overcoming 
 difficulties, which forms the character and ensures the 
 acquisition of information. This habit stimulates 
 the mind to solitary exertion, to reflection, and to 
 perseverance j and it inspires that emulation devoid 
 of jealousy, which animates the youthful heart with 
 the desire of triumphing by real merit. It shows 
 the impossibility of obtaining success by artifice, or 
 by any other means than labour. It discovers to us 
 our own weakness and the superiority of others, and 
 thus enables us to forma just estimate of our own 
 value. It serves to humble pride, without stifling 
 ambition ; and excites those self-exertions on bases 
 simply traced out, by which alone character can be 
 formed, and which are the sole source of true talent 
 and genius. We can obtain no real success t^^xcept 
 by our own individual efforts. It is this spirit of self- 
 exertion which confers the stamp of merit on all hu- 
 man productions. 
 
146 LETTERS OF 
 
 All that is done under the immediate guidance c 
 a master, must unavoidably bear traces of feeblenes- 
 which can never be concealed. . The work may be 
 highly polished and exquisitely finished ; but it can= 
 not be animated by the light of genius, and it will 
 consequently be tame and cold. The difference be- 
 tween works so produced and those that are invigo- 
 rated by solitary exertion, is similar to that which 
 exists between hot-house fruits and fruits of natural 
 growth. They may also be compared to the artificial 
 gems so ingeniously produced in the laboratory of 
 the chemist : they present not the brilliancy of the 
 diamond, which is formed in the bosom of the earth 
 without the aid of human art. If nature offers these 
 comparisons, all that is connected with art serves 
 but to demonstrate, still more evidently, that man 
 must be formed by himself alone, guided by proper 
 rules, and excited by the wish and the desire to suc- 
 ceed J but not constantly followed and supported by 
 a protecting hand. 
 
 The well instructed actor, who correctly seizes 
 the various intonations dictated by his master, may 
 enjoy temporary success ; but it is only by his own 
 personal labour that he can rise to the first rank of 
 men of talent. It is not repeating the parts of Aga- 
 memnon and Pyrrhus, even after Le Kain himself, 
 that will render him a great tragedian ; he must 
 carefully read Homer, iEschylus, Sophocles, and 
 Euripedes ; he must study human passions, and cal- 
 culate the efftcts to be produced by his various ges- 
 tures and modulations of voice. A painter, after 
 learning the first principles of design, and studying 
 the form of the human figure, is indebted to his own 
 studies for excellence in composition, style and co - 
 
MADAME CAMPAN. 147 
 
 louring. Labour, excited by emulation, is in all 
 cases superior to the best lessons that can be received 
 from masteis. 
 
 The spirit of emulation which exists in public 
 schools ; the day of triumph that is annually cele- 
 brated ; the prizes which are distributed as the 
 honourable rewards of merit; the tears of joy shed 
 by a fond mother ; all these things are remembered 
 with pleasure by the man in after life. Is there any 
 thing in private education to balance their advan- 
 tages ? 
 
 If private education be conducted on a rigid plan, 
 it becomes tyrannical ; for it is not assisted by the 
 punishment so sensibly felt on account of its publi- 
 city, or by that tacit chastisement arising out of the 
 privation of reward, which is attended by real mor- 
 tification, unaccompanied by any degrading feelings. 
 The private tutor is compelled to resort to incessant 
 reproof, and to accumulate the privation of little 
 pleasures connected with the common habits of life 
 and the recreations of society. Understanding, 
 judgment, and genius, all must suffer by this plan. 
 There is nothing great either in the reward or punish- 
 ment. A youth educated in the bosom of his own 
 family, gifted with natural endowments, and con- 
 signed to the care of an intelligent tutor, may cer~ 
 tainly make considerable progress in education ; but 
 the praises bestowed on him, will, to a certainty, 
 exceed his merits. Counting on a superiority, of 
 which he cannot competently judge, because he has 
 not had the opportunity of measuring himself with 
 others, and spoiled by extravagant fondness and flat- 
 tery, he will enter upon the world with unbecoming 
 confidence and assurance ; and he will have to do in 
 
148 LETTERS OF 
 
 society what he should have done in the progress oi 
 his education, namely, to serve an apprenticeship to 
 the superiority of others. Who were the tutors of the 
 illustrious men whose talents reflect honour on 
 France ? Who formed Corneille, Racine, Boileau, 
 Voltaire, Buffon, &c. They were educated in col- 
 leges. 
 
 Public education is most favourable to health, to 
 moral principle, and to the acquirement of those 
 useful habits which insure fortune and prosperity : in 
 short, it combines every advantage in forming the 
 character of a young man. His limbs are invigorated 
 by athletic games, he learns to be temperate, and he 
 relishes a simple meal with an appetite prepared by 
 exercise and regularity. He serves himself, and 
 therefore is not, in youth, the slave of those artificial 
 wants which swallow up fortunes, and create a thou- 
 sand idea^derogatory from the true dignity of man. 
 It is in the halls of colleges, amidst wooden tables 
 and benches, that pure friendship has raised her al- 
 tar ; and where she rivets those sacred compacts 
 which constitute the charm of existence, by soothing 
 our sorrows and augmenting our enjoyments. Hence 
 arise those sentiments which are founded on the per- 
 fect intimacy of simple and sincere hearts, and which 
 survive every vicissitude of fortune. Two boys, 
 who are seated on the same form at school, compo- 
 sing their themes ; who assist and advise without 
 injuring or imitating each other ; who are mutually 
 gratified by the rewards, and mortified by the re- 
 proofs they receive ; — these boys, will, in course of 
 time, enter together upon the world. The one is 
 perhaps favoured by fortune, and endowed with rank 
 and power, but still his friend is his first thought. 
 
MADAME CA-Mi'As. 149 
 
 The other may be the son of poor parents ; but the 
 distance which the laws of society seems to establish 
 between them, vanishes on the recollection of their 
 school-boy intimacy. Without losing the title of 
 friends, the one becomes the generous patron, and 
 the other the faithful and grateful protege; and their 
 respective situations are still more favourable to mu- 
 tual friendship, assistance and service. Feelings of 
 this kind engraven on youthful hearts, at a period 
 when pains and pleasures were shared in common 
 with each other, generally endure through life. 
 The young man, who from his childhood is sur- 
 rounded by the seduction and artificial forms of so- 
 ciety, can never enjoy the happiness of ^nowing and 
 choosing a real friend. 
 
 Friday, 2d Prairial, Year XI. 
 During the last three days, my dear Henry, I have 
 five or six times sat down to write the letter which I 
 am now about to send to you ; but I have had so 
 many visitors, and at such early hours, that I have 
 been continually interrupted. I must tell you about 
 Esther, which the journals are so full of at present. 
 The piece has been performed with the most decided 
 success, in spite of the censure which was poured 
 upon it by the critics, when after the death of madame 
 de Maintenon, who had forbidden its representation, 
 the Regent ordered it to be acted at the theatre 
 Fran^ais. On Sunday, Esther is to be performed 
 with great splendour at Saint-Cloud, before the 
 First Consul. With regard to the acting, I must 
 tell you, that Adile's performance was infinitely the 
 best during the first act j that the joy she evinced on 
 O 
 
150 LETTERS Oi 
 
 again beholding Elise, and her graceful manner of 
 delivering the prayer, were vastly superior to the 
 continued whining of mademoiselle Duchenois, who 
 carried the defect so far as even to weep while she 
 explained: <« jzur trois fois heureux T^ Was it 
 necessary that Racine should have written, O jour 
 six fois heureux ! to make her feel that the arrival 
 of Elise, in the palace of Ahasuerus, was a moment 
 of rapturous joy to Esther ; probably the only hap- 
 piness she had enjoyed since she herself entered it ! 
 The sublime Racine has contrived a most happy- 
 contrast, by making the imposing scene of Morde- 
 cai immediately precede the happy meeting of the 
 two young friends -, and the actress should at least 
 have seized the idea of the writer, who is so per- 
 fectly master of the art of painting opposite senti- 
 ments. After this criticism on the first act, I must 
 tell you, that the performance of mademoiselle Du- 
 chenois, in the second, and particularly in the third 
 act, was most astonishing, and that she left the young 
 pupil at an unmeasurable distance behind her. As 
 to her perpetual weeping, she has acquired that habit 
 through an unfortunate tradition of the theatre Fran- 
 ^ais, where the lachrymose style of mademoiselle 
 Sainval, the younger, has been transmitted to her 
 successors. Before the time of mademoiselle Sain- 
 val, who was a favourite with the public, our ac- 
 tresses did not certainly laugh in tragedy, but they 
 certainly did not weep at every line, and in moments 
 of dignity and courage, they never suffered tears to 
 flow. Lafon made the most of the part of Haman, 
 in spite of its defects, and the odious catastrophe 
 with which it concludes. It is, however, better de- 
 signed than the irresolute character of Ahasuerus 
 which Talma played well, excepting a certain want 
 
MADAME CAMPAV. 151 
 
 of tenderness in the love scenes with Esther. The 
 chorusses were less effectively performed than in my 
 establishment. The voices and dresses of the singers 
 seemed to be alike worn out. The young maidens 
 of Sidon, in odalisques of violet colour, blue, &c# 
 had a very bad effect. Uniformity of dress seems 
 to be naturally prescribed for the young Israelite 
 virgins assembled in the presence of Esther ; and 
 the rule observed at Saint Cyr, may be regarded as 
 authority for this idea. It is said that they will all 
 be dressed in blue, at Saint-Cloud. I hope I shall 
 have an invitation; it seems but just that I should. 
 The performance of Esther is to be continued at 
 the Theatre Fran^ais, and the intention of acting it 
 in my establishment, is favourable to that theatre, 
 and to Madame Vestris. The Publkiste has again 
 attacked my representation ; but its animadversions 
 are contemptible, and not dangerous when it says : — 
 " This new fashion of acting plays in boarding-schools 
 must be opposed." Let it be remembered, that Es^ 
 ther was written one hundred and ten years ago, for 
 this very purpose, and that it was always acted at 
 the Theatre of Saint-Cyr, where it has also been 
 performed since that time. I shall reply to these 
 sarcasms, by having the piece represented in my es- 
 tablishment next winter. 
 
 Dec. 16, 1806. 
 My DEAR Son, 
 You must surely suffer an interval of more than 
 four days to elapse between your letters. I have re- 
 ceived none dated December, and this is the 16th of 
 the month. A bulletin from the army is now looked 
 for as impatiently as a drop of r?iin in the scorching 
 
152 LE'iTERs or 
 
 heat of summer. Every one expects to find in it the 
 decree of his own fate, and that of Europe. But our 
 distance from the scene of hostilities necessarily re- 
 tards communication. I have been reading several 
 works relating to Poland, a country which cannot 
 but excite interest at the present moment. Indeed, 
 every nation in Europe successively demands atten- 
 tion ; and since the victories that have been gained 
 by our immortal emperor, I have materially added to 
 my information respecting the countries in which his 
 triumphs have been gained. I would advise you to 
 read books which treat of the conquered countries, 
 which are now about to undergo changes, or to be 
 completely regenerated. The first partition of Po- 
 land took place in 1775 ; and this circumstance was 
 unknown to the Cabinet of Versailles, through the 
 neglect of the French Ministers in foreign courts. 
 Cardinal de Rehan was at that time ambassador from 
 France to Vienna, and the partition of Poland was 
 concealed from him, a circumstance which did not 
 certainly reflect much credit on his diplomatic talents. 
 Other ministers, however, must have known what 
 ■was going on ; but it is probable that Louis XV., 
 conscious of the v/eakness of France at that period, 
 and controlled by his aversion for war, pretended to 
 be ignorant of the partition. At all events it was 
 not acknowledged by the French court. Before that 
 period Poland was bounded on the east by Russia, 
 on the south by Turkey, on the west by Germany, 
 and on the north by the Baltic. The climate is cold, 
 but the soil is singularly fertile ; producing such an 
 abundance of corn, that between twelve and fifteen 
 millions of bushels are annually exported. The pas- 
 tures are excellent, particularly in Podolia ,• and the 
 £^rass is so extremely high, that the cattle cannot be 
 
MADAME CAMPAN. 153 
 
 seen grazing. The country is flat, and contains 
 many forests of fir, oak and beech trees. Poland 
 produces great quantities of wax, and consequently 
 the honey is in an equal proportion. The horses are 
 handsome and swift. The elk is not uncommon in 
 the Ukraine ; it is a horned animal, having the feet, 
 skin, and hoofs of a stag, and the ears of an ass. It 
 must be an ugly creature. If you should go there, 
 I shall not expect you to take the trouble of bringing 
 me one home. Your uncle visited the salt-mines of 
 Wielitska, which are eight miles from Cracow. They 
 may be ranked among the curiosities of the country, 
 as well as the sources of its wealth. It requires some 
 courage to descend into them, for the mouths of the 
 mines are perpendicular pits of great depth, and they 
 are entered by means of a sort of seat attached to a 
 cord, which passes over a puUy, like the bucket of a 
 well. The galleries are of prodigious size, and are 
 supported at different intervals by beams of wood, 
 but more frequently by pillars of salt, whose surface 
 reflects the flames of the torches, the only light used 
 in these drear abodes. Houses, and even a church, 
 have been cut out of the salt. These mines annually 
 produce a sum equivalent to 2,400,000 francs. The 
 salt is of the same nature as that found on the sea of 
 Marmora. 
 
 The Sarmatians, or Sclavonians, were the first inha- 
 bitants of Poland. The authentic history of the 
 Poles reaches no farther back than 842, the era of 
 Charlemagne. Their first known king was named 
 Piast. Their first queen is said to have been a Dom- 
 browska, so that the general who now commands in 
 Poland, has reason to be proud of his name. The 
 introduction of Christianity in Poland could not have 
 been earlier than 992, or near the year 1000, 
 
 o 2 
 
154 LETTERS OF 
 
 The family of the Jagellons, Dukes of Lithuania, 
 ascended the throne in 1384, and kept possession of 
 it by hereditary succession till 1572. Two years 
 after, the throne became elective in favour of Henry 
 III., son of Henry II., and of Catherine of Medicis, 
 whose great renown, as well as the advantage of his 
 connexion with the houses of France and Valois, 
 procured him that honour. Voltaire, however, says 
 of this prince, on the occasion of his quitting Poland 
 to succeed to the throne of France, on the death, of 
 his brother Charles IX. : — 
 
 *' Ce n'etait plas ce Prince environne de gloire, 
 Aux combats des I'enfaoce instruit par la victoire, 
 Dont I'Earope, en iremblant, regandait les progres, 
 Et qui de sa patrie emporta les regrets, 
 Quand du Xord eionne de ses vertus supremes, 
 Les peuples a ses pieds mettaienl les diad^mes, 
 Tel btilie aa second rang qui s'clipse au premier, 
 Ec devieot lache roi d'mtrepide guerrier." 
 
 The crown which was thus given, for the first 
 time by election, to Henry of Valois, Duke of Anjou, 
 brother of King Charles IX., and who afterwards 
 became Henry III., and was assassinated at Saint- 
 Cloud, remained elective. 
 
 In 1683, John Sobieski compelled the Turks to 
 raise the siege of Vienna, and this, says the author 
 of the analysis which I have read, was the last effort 
 of Polish valour. Thus, a hundred and twenty-three 
 years after that event they will perhaps be roused 
 from their slumber by our great warrior : but as the 
 dispositions of nations are only lulled or awakened 
 by the tyranny, weakness, or power of their govern- 
 ments ; and as our imposing revolution revived in 
 us all the qualities ascribed by Ca£sar to the Gauls, 
 ihe people of Poland, if their movement be sincere, 
 may become excellent warriors. It may be remarked 
 
MADAME CAMPAN. 155 
 
 to their honour, that they have always conducted 
 themselves very creditably, whenever they have 
 sought to gather laurels under foreign banners. 
 
 Poland, which after the crown became elective, was 
 always enfeebled by internal contentions, was dis- 
 membered in 1773, in the reign of Louis XV. by 
 Russia, Austria, and Prussia. This first partition 
 was followed in 1795 by a second, which deprived 
 the King of his political existence. Previous to its 
 dissolution, the government of Poland was half mo- 
 narchical and half republican j and each election of 
 the King was a source of intrigue, and frequently of 
 civil war. 
 
 Poland contains a great number of towns, which 
 are, for the most part, very ill-built. The population 
 before 1773 amounted to eight millions five hundred 
 thousand inhabitants, of whom sixty thousand were 
 Jews. 
 
 The inhabitafits were divided into three classes, 
 the nobility, the citizens and the peasantry. The 
 latter were almost all the serfs of the nobility. The 
 Polish nobles enjoyed great privileges. They pos- 
 sessed the right of life and death over their serfs. 
 
 The nobility alone were allowed to hold lands ; 
 they alone voted for the election of the King, who 
 was obliged to take the opinion of the states for 
 peace or war, and for the levying of taxes. The 
 general assemblies were called Diets. The votes 
 were required to be unanimous, and the magnats, or 
 grandees of the empire, a title derived, as you will 
 immediately perceive, from the Latin, viagmis^ had 
 the power of throwing in a veto, which, though pro- 
 ceeding but from a single person, put a stop to the 
 results of the deliberations of the Diets; and the in- 
 dividual who had pronounced the veto, in order to 
 
156 LETTERS OF 
 
 escape the risk of being bribed, threatened or se- 
 duced, would throw himself across one of the best 
 horses in his stables, and gallop away from Warsaw 
 as hard as he could ride. What a constitution ! 
 Surely this is not to be restored ! Yet it met with 
 some very warm partizans in 1793 and 1794, when 
 the Poles wished to adopt a new one You know 
 that Charles XII., King of Sweden, succeeded in 
 placing on the throne Stanislas Leckzinski, the fa- 
 ther of the consort of Louis XV. ; but he was de- 
 throned shortly afterwards, and Augustus, of Saxony, 
 took his place. The dauphin, son of Louis XV., 
 and Maria Leckzinski, married the daughter of the 
 Elector of Saxony, who had dethroned the Queen's 
 father. Maria Leckzinski, notwithstanding her great 
 and sincere piety, never liked her daughter-in-law, 
 who afterwards became the mother of Louis XVI. ; 
 and the grand-father of that unfortunate prince, once 
 heard her make the following reply to a person who 
 solicited some prerogative for the Saxon minister at 
 the court :— •'' You would, perhaps, wish me to re- 
 ceive him as a family ambassador, but I would have 
 you know, that he will always be regarded in a di- 
 rectly opposite light by me. The resignation made 
 at the foot of the Almighty's throne, does not extend 
 to the thrones of this world below." At length, 
 when Augustus died, Russia protected the last Sove- 
 reign, Poniatowski, with whom the elective kingdom 
 terminated. This prince, who was a good-b jmr ured 
 man, fond of ease and enjoyment, formerly resided 
 at Paris, in the quality of a Polish gentleman ; and 
 from all that I have heard related of uim, he must 
 have been much such another man as Count Bielin- 
 ski. The house of madame Geoffrin, and her sup- 
 pers, though far from splendid, were at that time the 
 
MADAME CAMP AN. 157 
 
 endezvous of all the academicians and foreigners. 
 
 That lady, who has attached her name to the age of 
 Voltaire^ was the wife of a looking-glass manufac- 
 turer, and possessed no other attractions than her 
 fortune, and her taste for philosophers and scientific 
 men. 
 
 Poniatowski having spent his money rather too 
 freely, either at play or among the opera singers, 
 his creditors threw him into the Fort P Eveque^ a 
 prison for debt. Madame Geoffrin, as soon as she 
 was informed of this circumstance, paid the Polish 
 gentleman's debts, and released him. Poniatowski 
 was so grateful for this act of kindness, that when he 
 ascended the throne, he invited her to come to War- 
 saw, and received her like a mother. It is said that 
 he even carried his attentions so far as to have her 
 apartment fitted up in a similar manner to that which 
 she inhabited at Paris. Count Kasowski, the father 
 of our young pupils, was treasurer-general of the 
 crown, and he married mademoiselle Bielinski, who 
 was related to the King. Poniatowski remained in 
 this precarious and uncertain situation from 1793 
 until the dismemberment of his states in 1795. 
 About this time your uncle, being one day tired of 
 singing and playing to him all the airs of our comic 
 operas, took it into his head to put a stop to the 
 King's desire for music, by singing that song in the 
 opera of Theodore^ beginning-—*' s^il n^st pas Rot^ 
 pourquoi Vappeler Roi P^ — No man who had passed 
 his twenty-third year, would ever have hit upon such 
 a plan for abridging the concert. The King seemed 
 to take it amiss. He asked where that rhapsody 
 was taken from, but Genest got out of the scrape by 
 telling him that it was taken from Theodore a Venise^ 
 
158 LETTERS OF 
 
 an opera very much in vogue at the court of Ver^ 
 sailles. 
 
 I have just received a letter from M. D***, who 
 congratulates me on rour appointment, and tells me 
 that he is sure, from his knowledge of you, that you 
 will acquit yourself with honour ; these are his very 
 words. His letter is dated Posen, the 3d December j 
 and from my son I have not yet received any com- 
 munication bearing the date of December I This 
 circumstance adds to my grief. 
 
 The C**** are very much gratified by the inte- 
 rest which you feel in their son j perhaps he may 
 have gone to meet you at Berlin. 
 
 I hope my repetitions of all these old stories about 
 Poland may afford you some amusement. Oh ! you 
 are a sad fellow ; — are you ill ? or are you only lazy ? 
 You cannot, surely, be indifferent I 
 
 25th Feb. 180r. 
 M. A**^ has assured me, my dear son, that my 
 letters should go to you by the same courier as those 
 for M. E*****, and I have to reproach myself with 
 having neglected this precaution, notwithstanding 
 your recommendation. You must not, however, be 
 without a letter from me. To write to you is my 
 only consolation. A young roan of your age, ad- 
 vancing steadily towards the acquirement of a dis- 
 tinguished reputation, is a very dear object to the 
 heart of a mother, whose perfect happiness, or 
 misery in the decline of life, depends solely on the 
 conduct of her son. Continue to cultivate your 
 talents ; labour to perform the duty alloted to you, 
 and by the exercise of reason, divest your mind of 
 all the mistaken notions of youthful inexperience. 
 
MADAME CAMPAN. 159 
 
 For example, you cannot but perceive that economy 
 is the foundation of all fortune and prosperity, from 
 the quiet and frugal cottage, where a clean bed, a 
 full cupboard; and a cellar well stored with home- 
 made wine or cider, contribute to the health and the 
 enjoyment of the family, up to the very throne, 
 where the submission of the subject, the prosperity 
 of the country, and the stability of the crown, are 
 the fruits of order, and of an exchequer surpassing 
 the debt of the state. This, then, to a person of en- 
 lightened ambition, is the foundation stone on which 
 he must build his labours and his success. Reflect 
 maturely on this subject. The privations to which 
 we subject ourselves, having become a duty, result- 
 ing from calculation and reasoning, instead of incom- 
 moding us, afford, on the contrary, a source of satis- 
 faction. But it is not only necessary to regulate our 
 wishes, we must also practice economy and order ; 
 and this is only to be done by the habit of calcula- 
 tion, and a knowledge of the respective value of 
 money and provisions, or objects of the first neces- 
 sity. Though you have not attended to these sub- 
 jects at your outset in the world, from relying too 
 much on the profits of my establishment, yet, when 
 that resource is removed, and you feel the full ex- 
 tent of my affection, you will learn to economise 
 both from love to me and from a consideration of 
 your future welfare. You must establish your fa- 
 mily on a solid basis. Your great grandfather, who 
 made his own fortune, left 300,000 livres in money, 
 and 40,000 livres in plate and furniture behind him, 
 at his death ; your grandfather gained immense sums 
 in financial transactions, and in the offices which he 
 filled, but he squandered away his fortune in foolish 
 speculations and extravagant whims j your father 
 
ISO LETTERS OF 
 
 acquired nothing, and spent 300,000 livres, bequeath- 
 ing me a melancholy cypher to increase my anxiety 
 and affection for you. I have disengaged, but not 
 entirely withdrawn you, from this situation ; you 
 must assist me, as a reasonable husband would, and 
 it will be all for your own good. # * * * * 
 It appears, by yesterday's bulletin, that marshal 
 Ney displayed his skill and bravery in the affair of 
 the 9th. But what dreadful weather. I felt that 
 horrid snow falling on me yesterday as I read the 
 bulletin. Happily the Almighty watches over our 
 Emperor and our brave soldiers. God protects sub- 
 jects as well as kings: Jae exalts and humbles nations 
 at his will ; and I believe in my heart that he has 
 not looked favourably upon all the plans which tend- 
 ed towards the annihilation of our dear country, 
 however specious the pretexts of crowned heads may 
 have been. During fifteen years all their attempts 
 were confounded, reckoning from the period when 
 foreign powers, under the pretence of succouring an 
 unfortunate king, delivered him up to the fury of his 
 revolted subjects, and divided among themselves, in 
 anticipation, the finest part of his inheritance, to that 
 moment when, appearing to be all allied against the 
 principle of the independence of nations.— ,a doctrine 
 which, being adopted by the majority, spread with 
 great rapidity, and was about to fill Europe with re- 
 publics. The kings, however, one after the other, 
 betrayed the powerful individual who replaced every 
 thing on the ancient system of social order, and es- 
 tablished the security of their crowns. He after- 
 wards overturned them, but it was by force of arms, 
 and from the necessity to which they drove him of 
 opposing their bad faith. God will therefore con- 
 tinue to protect us in this great struggle, as he has 
 
MADAME CAMFAN. " 161 
 
 hitherto done ; and the moment of peace will be the 
 era of general happiness. I am at this moment read- 
 ing Bossuet's Discourse on Universal History, and I 
 am full of its sentiments, as you must perceive ; for 
 in that fine discourse, the force, clearness, and pre- 
 cision of which, impiety itself could not but com- 
 mend ; the able writer connects all the memorable 
 events of ages with the will of God, ennobling his 
 subjects and the principal actors on the stage of the 
 world, by that unbroken chain which moves armies, 
 overturns thrones, sweeps away nations, and the last 
 link of which is placed in Heaven, If this, in the 
 language of philosophers, is nothing more than a 
 beautiful illusion, it is at least better suited to the 
 elevation of great minds than their own sad realities* 
 The weather here is as disagreeable as possible. 
 The wind is very high, and the rain pours in such 
 torrents, that I am obliged to deprive myself of the 
 pleasure of visiting St. Leger and my garden, and 
 confine myself very involuntarily to my chamber, 
 and to my bergere. The works at St. Leger are 
 completed j it will be a charming place. I have in- 
 dulged myself in the whim of having a parquet-floor, 
 but 1 will dispense with useless alterations, if I find 
 it inconvenient to pay for them, and the sum I have 
 already spent will merely pass from one object to 
 another. St. Leger has increased in value from five 
 to six thousand francs, in consequence of what I have 
 done, otherwise I should never have meddled with 
 it. The place, in its present state, may be let at 1200 
 livres, though before, it could not have let at more 
 than 800. When properly furnished, it may let at 
 1500 livres, and may be valued at 24,000 livres ; 
 while my farm may be estimated at 40,000 livres. 
 P 
 
162 LETTERS 01 
 
 Here then are 60,000 livres ; and this is the whole 
 of our fortune. It is very little, very little indeed ; 
 yet we must respect it as the mite which may pre- 
 serve my son and me from the dreadful calamity of 
 ivanting the means of subsistence. 
 
 24th May, 1809. 
 My dear son, I wrote to you yesterday, and I now 
 write to you again to-day. I entertain for you a constant 
 feeling of tenderness and love which never leaves me. 
 But I am sometimes troubled with moments of anx- 
 iety and sadness, which prevent me even from sleep- 
 ing. You have taken up your lodgings on the banks 
 of a lake ! At first I was only alarmed on account 
 of your teeth ; but now I am seized with the idea of 
 your falling into a fever. The banks of the most ra- 
 pid river often produce this effect, and those of a lake 
 must be still more unwholesome. I was tormented 
 with this idea the whole night ; my dreams were full 
 of it, and I am still in a state of anxiety on the sub- 
 je t, I cannot think of the poor Queen's affliction 
 without feeling alarmed on your account. There 
 are two most critical points in the life of a beloved 
 son, first, that period of infancy when the daily de- 
 velopment of some amiable quality encourages the 
 anticipation of properties, perhaps of a higher and 
 more elevated character than those allotted to the 
 beloved object ; — secondly, when an only son, a son 
 like yourself, tenderly loved, has already attained 
 testimonials of- his good qualities and proper con- 
 duct, and when he is already in possession of hon- 
 ourable appointments. These are the two periods at 
 
f 
 
 MADAME CAMP AN. iG^i 
 
 which, if a mother should have the misfortune to lose 
 her son, she has nothing left but to die herself; and 
 the last supposition is, doubtless, the most heart- 
 rending of the two. There is a period when youth, 
 scarce yet removed from infancy, indulges in unrea- 
 sonable desires, and gives rise to an uncertainty re- 
 specting the character and fate of a child which may 
 serve as a ground for some consolation. He may, 
 perhaps, have erred, his parent may perhaps have 
 had cause to blush, and himself to grieve for his 
 misconduct. But when a son has already advanced 
 with a firm step, when he has deliberated on the ac- 
 quirement of esteem and honour, and when he knows 
 and pursues the road which leads to them, — when 
 his mother's ear has already been flattered with his 
 praises, her tenderness is converted into a transport 
 of happiness and delight. The least circumstance 
 then becomes an object of fear and anxiety, and that 
 lake is a dreadful source of alarm to me. There are 
 fevers in Germany : there are some now raging in 
 the army. Think of the short space that is left me 
 to live with you in this world. Think of your mo- 
 ther, and ascertain whether the situation you have 
 chosen is a healthful one. Inquire of the inhabitants 
 what sort of summers they have, and whether they 
 are not troubled with fevers or distempers. The in- 
 experience of youth seeks only for solitary and ro- 
 mantic spots, while more experienced age first dis- 
 covers whether the place is habitable. In eleven days 
 you will learn my anxiety, in twenty-two I shall have 
 your answer. In the mean time, I invoke the pro- 
 tection of Heaven, from the very bottom of my heart ! 
 You have of course read the speech of M, dc 
 Fontanes, on the reception of the remains of Fre- 
 
164 LETTERS OF 
 
 derick the Great. It met with the highest success. 
 Adieu, my dear son ; remember that in you my ex- 
 istence is prolonged ; that the thought of you carries 
 me up to 1836, 1840, and thinking of your chil- 
 dren makes me look forward to 1852, 1900: re- 
 member, too, that the idea of our descendants teaches 
 us to love posterity ; to form more determined views 
 for the happiness and glory of our country : and to 
 cherish virtuous and laudable ambition ! If the sect 
 of materialists who see Nothing beyond their earthly 
 remains, be highly reprehensible, not less so is the 
 crowd of selfish bachelors who exclaim, reasonably 
 enough, indeed, as far as regards themselves, " with 
 us the world is at an end !" Their ambition must be 
 sublime, if they direct it towards humanity in gene- 
 ral, or else entirely personal, detestable and selfish, 
 if they cherish it only for themselves. For my own 
 part^ if my son were no more, I should wish to end 
 my existence with him, not possessing any of those 
 great resources which are available to men in a mass, 
 nor any of those feelings by which they connect all 
 around them with themselves. Oh ! the bank of 
 that horrid lake quite frightens me out of my senses, 
 you see. I send you an embrace, and I hope, when 
 it reaches you, it will find you well. 
 
 26th Angust, 1807. 
 The Queen's arrival is at length announced for 
 this evening or to-morrow. It is to be hoped she 
 will relieve me from the painful situation in which 
 I have so long remained. The E***=5^ said he would 
 appoint me, but he has appointed no one. They are 
 
MADAME CAMPAN. 165 
 
 hastening forward the works at Ecouen, and there 
 is every reason to hope that my lot will soon be de- 
 termined. M. de Lac***** is a good and worthy 
 man, and not without talent. What will he say of a 
 woman who will unaffectedly devote the whole of 
 her experience to the management of her establish- 
 ment I The more he may have been misled by the 
 false reports which have been made of me, the more 
 pleased he will be to find that I do not deserve them. 
 The Prince is celebrating his marriage. I am 
 also anxious about the Queen's arrival, that I may- 
 have the opportunity of forwarding your business. 
 Councillors of State are now appointed to organise 
 the government. You must have patience a little 
 longer ; but think, in the mean time, of how much 
 you can do by yourself and for yourself. Reflect 
 on the misery produced by a total want of fortune j 
 and let industry, regularity and economy form the 
 bases of your future happiness, and that of your chil- 
 dren ; — may they, as well as yourself, be happier 
 than your mother. She has made, as far as her sex 
 would permit, every effort to put you forward in the 
 world. Learn to satisfy your natural judges, and 
 do not forget that they are, and ought to be, preju- 
 diced against the too rapid advancement of youth. 
 It has been ever so. Among men in office, a young 
 man must have passed his six or seven-and-twentieth 
 year before he can acquire any consideration. Peo- 
 ple are as little satisfied with those who have passed 
 their fiftieth year, and they consider both the former 
 and the latter incapable, unless where precocious 
 talents are joined with modesty in the young, or 
 where the old can boast of so brilliant and usciul a 
 p 2 
 
166 LETTERS OF 
 
 career that their characters must silence all remarks 
 upon their years. 
 
 I have meditated more on the world than would 
 be supposed, from the natural turn of my mind. It 
 may be asked, why have you not succeeded better ? 
 Because I have always been placed in an equivocal si- 
 tuation, and held a rank inferior to the sort of cele- 
 brity which my education and the favour I have met 
 with presented to my imagination. Nothing is more 
 difficult than to make a brilliant station in life out of 
 one that has no claim to eminence. If I had been 
 born rich, and had been married to a man of high 
 consideration in the world, my existence would never 
 have been tormented but by natural events. If you 
 obtain~the approbation of your employers, you are 
 in this happy situation, with the exception, indeed, 
 of your want of fortune. This is the only evil. 
 
 I see they have commenced an attack on the audi- 
 tors. This is probably occasioned by jealousy rather 
 than by any blame attached to them. They have not 
 been sufficiently on their guard against the rivalry 
 of place. Take care to come off with as little injury 
 as possible, from this little contest. It gives me, 
 however, great uneasiness. Write to me oftener. 
 
 2d January, 1809. (O. S.) 
 This is the second day of a new year, my dear son, 
 JLet us spend it well, that is to say, well employed. 
 That is always gratifying. I assure you I often say 
 so to myself. Yet I am sometimes seized with little 
 fits of idleness. Then I feel a pleasure in retiring 
 t9 my closet and reclining on my bergere, with my 
 
MADAME CAMPAN. 167 
 
 little fire screen in my hand. But all of a sudden, an 
 inward monitor exclaims : " examine your classes, 
 you will find something to amend j you can correct 
 by word of mouth which is the true mode of educa- 
 tion ; and you ought to practice it ; it is your duty. 
 Your establishment is the only means of your exis- 
 tence, and that of your son j come, get up, main- 
 tain your professional reputation ; that is the only 
 way to overcome your enemies." I then rise and 
 proceed to the examination of my pupils. You 
 see that we must exercise self-command at every 
 age ; and yet may I not be said to have attained that 
 at which a female, particularly, may expect a little 
 repose ? — Reason with yourself in the same way ; 
 recollect that though I have saved you from misery, 
 I have not been able to make your fortune, which 
 though I had laid its foundation during the old sys- 
 tem, was undermined by your father, and sapped by 
 the revolution, when I had passed my forty-second 
 year. Tell me how you get on with your drawing. 
 You ask me questions, and you do not tell me a syl- 
 lable of what interests me most. I will now give 
 you as good an account as I can of all that is going 
 on here. I had a delightful concert last Thursday. 
 Plantade and Bonezi displayed the perfection of vo- 
 cal excellence. Mademoiselle Carceux is no longer 
 a scholar, she is a great genius. Madame Laval also 
 played on the harp at my house ; she performs on 
 that instrument at least as well as d'Alvinac, and is 
 a good piano-forte player besides. She will enter my 
 establishment in the monih of July. This lady, 
 ^vhen in London, earned an annual income of thirty 
 thousand francs. This is a well-known fact; but her 
 husband not having any profession to support him- 
 
168 LETTERS OF 
 
 self, they spent thirty-five thousand between them, 
 which of coarse threw them into dtbt ; for living in 
 London is extremely dear, and indeed, wherever 
 economy and system are neglected, people are sure 
 to exceed their income. She therefore prefers, for 
 the future, to leave her husband to seek his own for- 
 tune, and to come and live with me. She is a bril- 
 liant acquisition to my establishment. My concert 
 was attended by the Princess Yabolowska, and her 
 family, and several other persons of very high con- 
 sideration among the old nobility. Every one was 
 delighted with the entertainment. It is thus that I 
 maintain my establishment, which otherwise would 
 constantly suffer from the attacks of jealousy and 
 slander ; but it is also by such means that I find my- 
 self in arrears at the end of two years, without so 
 much as fifty louis to lay by. This is hard to strug- 
 gle against, but perhaps I shall derive benefit from 
 it in the end. Unfortunately I am ten years too old. 
 Esther^ and La Roster e are to be performed on 
 the 12th and 13th cf February. We must not ne- 
 glect to observe Lent this year, or we should incur 
 the displeasure of the clergy, who are corapletelv re- 
 established. Adele will play the part of Esther bet- 
 ter than she did last year. M. de Lally dined with 
 12S to-day, Madame Gamot, and her husband Cle- 
 mence and ^L Dubreuil, were also of the party. M, 
 de Ijally read to us, after dinner, an act of his tra» 
 gedy of the Earl of Strafford, He recites amazingly 
 well ; and his piece is rendered highly interesting 
 from the circumstance of its describing a great revo- 
 lutionary crisis, such as we have just experienced. 
 Strafford was the minister and friend of the unfortu- 
 nate Charles L, and the revolutionists of the period. 
 
:madame campan. 169 
 
 who were called round heads, or levellers, sent him 
 to the scaffold before that unfortunate monarch. The 
 principles of these conspirators were absolutely the 
 same as those of the Jacobin sect. M. de Lally will 
 be in Bordeaux in the course of a fortnight. I told 
 him his daughter had grown very stout, but not to 
 the extent in which you have described her to me» 
 
 I have been twice asked to supper at Malmaison, 
 in the course of this month. # # # # There 
 was dancing. I took with me Adele and two young 
 girls, who are dependant on the First Consul. I do 
 not introduce young women, arrived at a marriage- 
 able age, into high life, though I have no doubt I 
 shall be accused of doing so. However, the great 
 point is to take care not to deserve reproach. 
 
 Write me longer letters, and oftener. I am better 
 pleased with your hand-writing. Avoid young peo- 
 ple, and bad company ; let me know how you em- 
 ploy your time. Adieu, my dear Henry j do not 
 be idle. 
 
THOUGHTS 
 
 ON 
 
 i^iDW©^^sa;©^<a 
 
 THE AUTHOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 More than twenty years of my life, occupied 
 solely in the education of youth, have led me to ob- 
 serve the diversity of a great number of characters, 
 and to judge of the methods which most generally 
 succeed in "bringing up children well. 
 
 My work will be destitute of the attraction of those 
 fictions almost always united to plans of education ; 
 and the quantity of details which I have to place 
 under the eyes of my readers, gives me some uneasi- 
 ness. I also fear allowing myself to be led away by 
 my partiality for those innocent and graceful beings, 
 an amiable crowd of whom has surrounded me for so 
 many years, and to whom I have owed so many de- 
 lightful moments. Sometimes I fear that a certain 
 tediousness, the first and melancholy infirmity of 
 age, will lengthen my subject, in spite of me ; but 
 then I recollect that I dedicate my work to my for- 
 mer pupils, now become mothers of families ; that in 
 
ITS, THE author's preface. 
 
 doing them homage of the fruits of a long expe= 
 rience, I speak to them of their dearest affections-— 
 and I take courage. 
 
 As mothers, as wives, and as sisters, women have 
 the greatest influence on the destiny of men. The 
 worthies in the time of chivalry, made them the 
 stimulus and aim of their high feats of arms ; under 
 absolute monarchies, their charms even extended 
 their influence over the fate of empires, and too often 
 the boudoir of a favourite became the council-cham- 
 ber of kings. In a constitutional government, in 
 which the wisdom of the sovereign, and the under- 
 standings of his people, promulgate laws and cause 
 them to be executed, the education of women should 
 be directed to a useful and more praiseworthy ob- 
 ject. The enlightened understanding of the present 
 age deprives them of the advantage of governing by 
 the sole power of beauty ; a solid education must 
 now render them capable of appreciating the talents 
 and virtues of their husbands, of preserving their 
 fortune by a wise economy, of partaking of their ele- 
 vation without ridiculous ostentation, of consoling 
 them in disgrace, of bringing up their girls in all the 
 virtues which ought to be inseparable from their sex, 
 and directing the early years of their boys. Their 
 names will figure less in history : and, for their hap- 
 piness, they will supply still fewer subjects for ro- 
 mances ! A sentiment truly national will lead them 
 to regard their own homes as the only theatre of 
 their glory, and public morals will then soon show 
 the immense steps made by social order towards a 
 better state of things. 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 
 
 SECT. I. 
 
 Nature generally gives to a mother the desire 
 and power of suckling her infant ; but circumstances 
 may happen to prevent it. If her constitution be 
 weak, if she have experienced the slightest attack oi 
 any cutaneous disease, she ought to fear h^ing too 
 little milk, or to apprehend communicating to her 
 child the malady from which she has suffered. The 
 station which her husband fills, the levity of dispo- 
 sition which often accompanies the first years of a 
 youthful marriage, or even a too lively sensibility, 
 may prevent her from entirely fulfilling the functions 
 of maternity ; she should, therefore, in all these 
 cases, cease to pretend to it. 
 
 Happy the discreet, free, and healthy woman, who can 
 accept and fulfil the duties which nature has imposed 
 on her ! She will not have to- divide with a stranger 
 the first caresses of her infant ; it is she alone whom 
 he will call by the sweet name of mother, his first 
 smile will be for her, and nature has made this first 
 smile the sweetest reward of the sufferings and cares 
 of maternity. In doing that which is right, more 
 than one happy result follows. The young mother, 
 who devotes herself to her infant, will inspire, when 
 scarcely out of its childhood, a veneration which is 
 not always granted in maturity. 
 
 A mother who nurses, should renounce fetes and 
 late hours, she should fly the town, and breathe the 
 
174 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 
 
 vivifying air of the country. She should be steady, 
 seek new strength in daily exercise, and repress the 
 inequalities of her character j finally, she should 
 take care of herself, not only for herself alone, but 
 for the infant who draws his life from her bosom. 
 
 It is at present very rare to meet with women who, 
 in charging themselves with the nursing of their chil- 
 dren, are not aware of the importance of this sacred 
 task ; but when Emlle appeared, the new and pre- 
 cious ideas which this work brought to light, were 
 adopted With as much exaggeration as fickleness ; 
 and it Was fashion, accompanied by all its follies, 
 which caused females to return to the duties of na- 
 ture J the use of cradles became general, the taste of 
 artificers was exercised in ornamenting them ; it was 
 an indispensable article in a boudoir, and I believe 
 that some silly women had empty ones placed on the 
 front of their carriages, to give themselves in the 
 Bois de Boulogne the interesting air of young nurses. 
 
 At this period, every female nursed her children ; 
 it signified little whether they had milk or not j they 
 liked to nurse ; it was their whim. By another ca- 
 price, they weaned at a wrong time, or neglected the 
 nursery to go into the world. It is impossible to 
 number the criminal follies which this maternal rage 
 caused among the Parisians. During the hard win- 
 ter of 178S, on coming from a ball, one of my friends 
 offered to conduct me home ; it was four o'clock in 
 the morning ; I entered the carriage precipitately, 
 and was surprised at hearing the cries of an infant, 
 and seeing, by the light of the flambeaux, a nurse 
 asleep, with my friend's child upon her knees. I 
 exclaimed, for the cold was at twelve degrees ; but 
 to re-assure me, this tender mother showed me wrap- 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 175 
 
 pers, and a bowl of water, and told me that she had 
 twice quitted the ball-room to suckle her infant. This 
 litde girl died of weakness, at five years of age. 
 
 As soon as the nursling has attained his fourth 
 month, he likes to be carried in the arms, to have 
 change of place, and to be softly lulled on the knees. 
 He suffers from dentition ; the open air soothes him ; 
 repeated songs calm him ; and night, as well as day, 
 he requires the same attentions. His mother cannot 
 always pay them to him ; she cannot yet regulate 
 the seasons of presenting the breast to him ; he de- 
 mands it daring the night. After satisfying him, 
 she has need of sleep. The choice of a nurse re- 
 quires great attention, many women are, however, to 
 be found, accustomed to the service required by the 
 child in the cradle. All peasant-women from their 
 tenderest youth are accustomed to carry children. 
 
 Nature has placed in our sex a touching attraction 
 towards the age of infancy. Women, young or old, 
 never see an infant without feeling an emotion that 
 men cannot know ; a nurse, therefore, can be found 
 without much difficulty. 
 
 But as soon as the child learns the names of the 
 objects which strike his sight, as soon as the first 
 ideas are united to the words successively imprinted 
 in his memory, his education commences. The in- 
 fluence of first ideas cannot be calculated ; no habit 
 contracted, no principle already established, effaces 
 them ; they engrave themselves without obstacle, 
 and for ever, in these new minds. The choice of a 
 governess is therefore much more difficult than that 
 of a nurse ; this choice is even one of the most im- 
 portant things in education. A scrupulous attention 
 is required in selecting a governess ; we should be 
 
176 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 
 
 assured of the parity of her manners, of the extent 
 of her knowledge, and of the superiority of her 
 talents ; and it is right to do so ; but the governess 
 ought to have to do with children whose age renders 
 them already proper to judge of her. Without hav- 
 ing to fear any censure, a governess may engrave, at 
 leisure, on the minds of children, the falsest and 
 most fatal opinions. We have seen them, unknown 
 to the parents, create a despotism in their chamber ; 
 it is the aim of almost all. There they perhaps ill- 
 use the child, who is petted in the saloon ; there 
 truth and falsehood may be at their entire disposal. 
 If a careless or dissipated mother has once believed 
 the false report of the governess, and the child 
 has been unjustly punished in consequence of the 
 bad character of her who governs it, the chamber 
 of the instructress becomes a kind of mansion, 
 decidedly separated from that of the parents ; the 
 terrified child will betray nothing of what passes 
 there, it will be the victim of caprice, the witness of 
 disorder, and for fear of not being believed, will per- 
 haps be guilty of falsehood to conceal it. 
 
 All these inconveniences, which a judicious and 
 vigilant mother overcomes without difficulty, are 
 more to be feared on the part of those governesses 
 who pretend to some knowledge. One should be 
 preferred, who will allow herself to be directed, and 
 in whom docility takes the place of education ; but 
 then care should be taken that she have no vulgar 
 habits, and that she communicate not to the child 
 popular manners and expressions. 
 
 The mother who would not suffer her children to 
 draw their nourishment from the breast of a stranger, 
 will not suffer these first ideas, so durable, to be de- 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION, 177 
 
 veloped in them by a woman without education ; 
 after being the nurse, she will be the governess of 
 her children, and will not be assisted by other wo- 
 men, except in tiresome details, and by yielding her 
 place at short intervals. It is in the chapter dedi- 
 cated to this mother, truly a mother, that I collect 
 all that experience has taught me on the education of 
 the earliest infancy. 
 
 SECT. II. 
 
 Children are free in their first movements, as in 
 their first desires of acting. Follow with your eye 
 the timid steps which they endeavour to make alone, 
 and if they approach any dangerous articles of fur- 
 niture, take care not to warn them of these by crying 
 out, which is the surest way of rendering them fear- 
 ful or awkward. If they hurt themselves, be cool, 
 and mildly stay their tears ; tell them with a re-as- 
 suring voice, you zvalked too quickly ; you did not 
 look before you. There is nothing to hope from a 
 mother silly enough to beat the table against which 
 her daughter has struck herself; from a mother who 
 induces the child to imitate her, and engenders the 
 most blameable anger, in the place of an useful re- 
 mark. 
 
 This imprudent mother, doubtless, will not fail to 
 promise the child, when he is carried reluctantly to 
 bed, that he shall return directly. If by a too weak 
 tenderness a mother falls into such sad errors, there 
 is no ignorant peasant but can take her place ; this 
 mother will only engender in the mind of her child 
 the idea of deceiving in his turn. Will this dispo- 
 sition to falsehood be produced by nature ? No, it 
 it will be the inevitable result of this first year of 
 (^2 
 
1 1 b THOUGHTS ON EDUC ATIOS. 
 
 education : of which, owing to their inexperience, 
 
 youDg mothers are not sufficiently convinced of the 
 importance. Respect for truth should be observed 
 in the most trivial things ; and when a mother plays 
 at hide and seek with a child of a year old, she can 
 amuse her daughter, and obtain her innocent bursts 
 of laughter as well, by saying, I see her do longer, as 
 by crying, she is lost ! Where is she gone ? 
 
 A child of a year old rapidly developes so much 
 intelligence, that it is very certain its first year, 
 though condemned to silence, has been in a great 
 measure employed in observing. See it at six months 
 recognise its mother, or its narse ; a little time after, 
 it will shew its father, its sister^ It cries, the breast 
 is presented to it, it smiles, it kicks its little feet in 
 token of satisfaction. At other times it cries ; it is 
 taken out of the house, it breathes the pure air of 
 gardens ; and the smile which suddenly succeeds 
 its tears says to you: It is that which I wanted. 
 When we make ourselves so well understood, we 
 must already understand. In leaving very young 
 children free to act, the greatest care must be taken 
 to foresee all accidents ; these cares do not render 
 them timid and fearful, they are not able to judge 
 of them. The edge of knives, and the points of 
 scissars, may be removed ; windows, chimneys, 
 wells, or basins may be surrounded by gratings : the 
 curiosity natural to children, their inexperience,^- 
 ought to prevent you from trusting to their intelli- 
 gence and obedience. An imprudent mother will 
 content herself with saying to her daughter : I for- 
 bid you to go to the td^t of the river. The litde 
 girl goes there, and says, I did not go. The mother, 
 who suspects the truth, says another time : Do net 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 179 
 
 go to the edge of the river, there is a wolf. And 
 though disobedient and lying, the little girl becomes 
 docile, solely by the effect of a ridiculous terror. 
 What value will she henceforth attach to the word 
 of her mother ? 
 
 SECT. III. 
 
 From its earliest years the idea of bed, and that 
 of sleep, should be united in the mind of a child. 
 Take it up as soon it is awake : a morning walk, 
 its breakfast, the enjoyment of its favourite toys, 
 songs, and gaiety, should animate the first mo- 
 ments of the day ; make it to like the instant which 
 gives it to the action of life. Montaigne says : "It 
 is good to fatigue children a little, towards the end 
 of the day, and to make them take a quarter of an 
 hour's rest before they are put to bed ; the fatigue 
 brings on sleep, and the rest renders the sleep calm ; 
 they require being watched night as well as day.'' 
 Learned physicians are occupied with the melan- 
 choly habits that bed causes children to contract. 
 Let a mother carefully conceal the cause of the 
 watchfulness which she exercises on this delicate 
 subject : she should never pronounce more than the 
 words propriety and impropriety. 
 
 The child will not seek other motives for the care 
 that is taken to make it sleep with its hands out of 
 bed, and sometimes even with gloves on ; for you will 
 tell it, that it puts its hands to its face, that it eats 
 with its hands, and therefore they ought to be kept 
 in order. If necessary, children may also be made 
 to sleep in very long and wide gowns, tied at the ex- 
 tremity by means of a drawing. 
 
 By the use of cold baths, the night inconveniences 
 
ISO THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 
 
 to which children are necessarily subject, are easily 
 overcome j we should also, in good time, take the 
 precaution of awaking them at fixed hours. With 
 these cares the most complete propriety may prevail 
 at the age of two years. If the inconveniences are 
 prolonged beyond this time, they proceed from the 
 weakness of the constitution, and it is then the affair 
 of the physician. It would be as barbarous as useless, 
 to use rods to cure this inconvenience, for the child 
 that is beaten is indeed awake; but as soon as he 
 sleeps he forgets that he has been whipped. 
 
 Children of a very lively disposition are disposed, 
 from the age of three or four years, to be tormented 
 with visions before they sleep. The terror which 
 ^. they experience at them is not blameable ; they see, 
 9 or think they see, an infinite number of grotesque or 
 frightful figures crowd before their eyes. How can 
 we require them to render an account of these kinds 
 of waking nightmares ? In this case, without pun- 
 ishing them unjustly, or condescending to their weak- 
 ness, we should endeavour to overcome it, not by 
 leaving them alone, and in the dark, but by taking 
 proper care, without letting them know that it is with 
 the intention of calming them. 
 
 Children know not danger, how should they know 
 fear ? It is true a sudden noise affects their delicate 
 nerves, but in all other cases, far from being alarmed 
 at noise, they like it ; their first pleasure is in mak- 
 ing it, and the sound of an harmonious instrument 
 ^ pleases their senses less than the roll of a drum. They 
 all like horses, v/hy should they fear a mouse ? Ob- 
 serve further, that a white mouse enchants even those 
 who are frightened at a grey one : it is, that from 
 imitation they almost always derive the principle of 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 181 
 
 fear. Take away the example, banish the word, and 
 they will be preserved from a weakness troublesome 
 in a woman, and contemptible in a man. Darkness 
 inspires children with a sort of natural fear : they 
 should be accustomed to it very young, conducted, 
 without affectation, into dark places, and sent in the 
 dark to fetch whatever playthings they wish to have ; 
 or taken out to play on dark nights. However, care 
 should be taken not to punish them by shutting them 
 between two doors, or in a dark closet. 
 
 If it thunders, pay no attention to this phenome- 
 non, and continue your occupation ; during the con- 
 tinuance of a storm, keep away equally from your 
 children people whom fear induces to pray, or 
 make signs of the cross, and those who, permit- 
 ting gross and irreligious pleasantries, deceive the 
 reason of children. A false idea is as hurtful to them 
 as the example of a weakness. 
 
 It is deceiving yourself to think of guarding a 
 young child against popular errors, by explaining 
 them to him ; the better way is to leave him ignorant 
 of them. If you speak to him of ghosts, or wolf-men^ 
 (loup-garous) whatever precaution you take to make 
 him conceive the folly of these imaginations, he will 
 only see the marvellous ; and the remedy, unskilfully 
 applied, will be worse than the evil. A child who 
 is forced to remain seated, cannot, like us, have re- 
 course to dreams of the imagination ; he, therefore^ 
 consoles himself for this constraint by biting his nails, 
 squinting, and a thousand other bad habits. Heavy 
 children also, who are sedentary through inclination, 
 seek, in these bad habits, a means of animating their 
 feeble existence. We should leave a free course to 
 the activity of some, and excite that of others^ 
 
182 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 
 
 The impatient desire of expressing themselves 
 leads children to forge easy words ; for a short time 
 this habit must be tolerated. 
 
 Vices, those melancholy diseases of the human 
 heart, may be engendered in the cradle j that of jea- 
 lousy sometimes makes afflicting ravages. Jealousy 
 is produced from a sentiment of self-love, placed in 
 the heart of man by divine providence, as a means 
 of preservation. Reflection, and love of our neigh- 
 bour, direct and balance this self-love ; but in the 
 youngest children it often becomes the cause of a vi- 
 olent jealousy, which sometimes carries them to the 
 grave, and always injures the happy development 
 of character. This jealousy can only have for its ob- 
 ject the cares and caresses of a mother 5 and the fore- 
 sight oPparents should preserve the child from this 
 melancholy disposition. You should never say to 
 him : " Your mamma will soon give you a little bro- 
 ther or sister, you will be no longer the pet ; she 
 will be occupied with the little new comer, as she is 
 with you." And who can be sure that a child trust- 
 ed to imprudent servants, has not heard such con- 
 versation, and has not been thus prepared to envy 
 and hate almost from its birth, the friend that nature 
 has bestowed. In the first moments of its birth, the 
 immobility of an infant causes only astonishment in 
 its elder brother j but when he sees this infant press 
 the bosom of which he has a recollection, and smile 
 at its mother when caressed, the poison of jealousy 
 takes root in his breast. A prudent mother should 
 then not only continue the cares which he was accuse 
 tomed to receive from her, but she should be more 
 assiduous ; she should even lavish more cartsses on 
 him. When the new-born child begins to grow, s. 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 183 
 
 that its features may be distinguished, we should 
 avoid comparisons with those of an elder brother or 
 sister ; we should not say, he will be the handsomest 
 she will be the prettiest. We too often forget that 
 we are understood by the very youngest children. 
 This fancy for comparing the physical advantages of 
 children is so general, that there is no person who 
 has not seen a thousand examples of it. And the in- 
 tellectual faculties are compared with the same in- 
 discretion. This one, says a mother, describing her 
 children, has more recollection than the others ; the 
 youngest has astonishing address, my eldest daugh- 
 ter loves study, her sister v/ill learn nothing, if 3^ou 
 have made all these remarks, keep them to yourself, 
 they will be useful to you in the choice of the seve» 
 ral methods to be employed to direct various charac- 
 ters ; but communicate them not to strangers, and 
 still less to your children. The present moment al- 
 ways occupies us too exclusively in education ; we 
 should continually have the future in view. Cherish 
 by skilful and tender attention, not only the health, 
 but the happiness of your children ; it exists in the 
 union of families ; this union alone mitigates the 
 troubles of life, and redoubles its enjoymtrnts. 
 
 The dress of children should be absolutely alike; 
 a play-thing should never be given to the eldest with» 
 out having one for the youngest. In turning all your 
 attention to re-assuring an elder child on the fear of 
 seeing your tenderness directed towards a new-born 
 infant, prevent him from considering himself too su- 
 perior to the new comer. As the latter developes its 
 faculties, and begins to act, suffer it not to be accused 
 of all the mischief which is done, nor permit the 
 eldest to say : It is the baby who has spoiled this^ 
 
184 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 
 
 who has broken that. Talk of the ignorance of the 
 infant, engage the eldest to instruct and guide it, to 
 become its protector and its friend, but never its ac- 
 cuser. 
 
 If the useful precaution to preserve a child from 
 jealousy have been neglected, or if an alHicting tem- 
 per have rendered it vain, there exists but one remedy 
 to overcome in it this terrible sentiment ; perhaps 
 even to save its life — this is to take away the new- 
 born infant entirely. 
 
 *< Further, consider," says Fenelon, *« how from 
 this age children seek those who flatter them, and 
 avoid those who restrain them ; how they know 
 whether to cry or to be silent, to obtain that which 
 they desire ; how they already possess artifice and 
 jealousy." " I have seen a jealous child," says St. 
 Augustine, *< he could not yet speak, and already with 
 apaleface and infuriated eyes, he regarded the infant 
 who sucked with him/'* The following anecdote 
 will illustrate this observation. 
 
 A celebrated physician of Paris was called in by 
 the father of a family ; he saw a pretty little girl 
 languishing and getting thin, v/ithout any person be- 
 ing able to tell the cause. The little invalid is brought 
 into the presence of the doctor ; she enters the cham- 
 ber of her mother ; he sees her throw a fierce and 
 sinister look on a child of four months old, which her 
 mother was suckling. Take the little girl back, said 
 the doctor immediately, I know the cause of her ill- 
 ness ; she shall be cured. He then directed the mo- 
 ther to establish her nursery in a distant chamber, to 
 go to her infant to give it suck, and to keep it en- 
 tirely out of the sight of the little invalid, with whom 
 * Fenelon " De i-Eflucation des filles." 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 185 
 
 she should occupy herself exclusively. For two 
 years this direction was scrupulously followed ; at 
 the end of that time they announced to the eldest 
 sister that they were going to give to her a pretty 
 little girl, whose friend and protectress she should 
 be, and who would play with her ; this made her ex- 
 pect her impatiently. These two sisters, whom I 
 knew, loved one another tenderly, and the eldest 
 owed to the enlightened understanding of an able 
 observer, not only her cure, but the happiness of all 
 her life. 
 
 To educate children, it is first necessary to have a 
 plan fixed, to follow it with a perseverance partaking 
 of obstinacy, and not to make any modifications until 
 we have deeply considered them. It is difficult to 
 distinguish occasions in which we must persevere, 
 and those in which modifications must be admitted. 
 To persevere is necessary, reason shows it ; but on 
 the other hand, domestic education is always an at« 
 tempt ; and where is the father, where is the mother, 
 who has founded either on books or advice, a plan 
 of education proper to be followed in every point ? 
 Errors of education are not reparable, they strike 
 home. 
 
 The plan once adopted, a perfect accordance be- 
 tween the father and mother is the first basis of edu-» 
 cation. All is lost, if either Be once blamed in the 
 presence of their children. The contradictions of 
 grandfathers and mothers are also much to be feared ; 
 their tenderness for these little beings, whose present 
 happiness occupies them exclusively, always partakes 
 of weakness ; they want courage in regard to prepa- 
 rations for a future which they will not enjoy ; and 
 children are singularly clever in observing all that 
 R 
 
186 THOUGHTS OS EDUCATIOX. 
 
 concents them. If any punishments are going for- 
 ward, the penetrating eye of the child who should 
 suffer, will quickly distinguish the shrug or the sigh 
 of his grandmother, the frown of his father; — and 
 the power of his mother, who would punish him, 
 will hare already lost its force. If it be of conse- 
 quence to repress before children the slightest signs 
 of disapprobation, still more ought we to avoid dis- 
 cussing in their presence any points relative to their 
 education. 
 
 This would be giving them too high an idea of 
 their importance ; it would also lead them very natu- 
 rally to discuss themselves the law which ought to 
 govern them; then to revolt against this law ; finally 
 to prefer that of their friends, whose opinions testi- 
 fied the most indulgence, and to detest the other* 
 The inconveniences v.hich arise from this habit are 
 very numerous. We should entirely concead from 
 children the springs by which they are made to act. 
 
 Habits contracted in intancy may influence the 
 remainder of life ; this difficulty exists in the epoch 
 of which I treat ; but another is joined to it. The 
 same children whom you bring up to virtue, will 
 soon arm themselves with an opinion ; they will be 
 no longer beings blindly subservient by their weak- 
 ness, and deprived ot" discernment; they will soon 
 be endowed with judgment, and their father and 
 mother are the first whom they will judge. 
 
 At those moments in which a young couple con- 
 templdte with delight the first fruit of iheir loves, an 
 impossing and respected friend should approach them,* 
 and showing them the intant w nose eyes arc still shut 
 against the light, in whom life is only manifested by 
 iaarticuiate sounds, he should say ; " You are about 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATI^, 187 
 
 to crtait to yourselves a judge ; before four years 
 have passed, this child will know a part of your 
 weakness, and how to profit by it. At twenty, it 
 will have pronounced on your vices or virtues. 
 Throughout its life it will attribute its fauUs to you, 
 or pay you the homage of its gratitude. Its respect 
 or its censure will pass forward to its descendants ; 
 this infant will represent you to all posterity." Who 
 among us, has not learned from his father to attribute 
 to ancestors, more or less distant, the origin of his 
 elevation, and of his fortune, or the cause of his de- 
 gradations and misfortunes ? 
 
 A mother who charges herself with the first edu- 
 cation of her son, doubtless finds this advantage in it 
 dear to her heart— *the power of watching at the same 
 time the progress of his body and of his mind. 
 
 Until the age of seven years, a boy may be guided 
 by maternal hands j after that he should be taken 
 away. The austerity of study, violence of diver- 
 sions, and of exercise, all that is necessary in the 
 education of men, to temper their minds more 
 strongly, will incessantly wound the exquisite sensi- 
 bility of a mother. 
 
 But the fruit of early years is not lost ; the man 
 returns to his first friend ; he likes all his life to make 
 her his guide, and in the midst of the quicksands of 
 the world, in listening to his mother, he regains the 
 docility of his infancy. It is easy to an observant 
 eye to remark in men, whose earliest years have beea 
 intrusted to an educated and wise mother, a particu- 
 lar urbanity, a greater inclination to hear reason, and 
 that respect and attention to females, which always 
 denote the man of good company. 
 
 The education of children commences at three 
 
188 THOUGHTS O^ EDUCATION, 
 
 years of age : from that time their memory is formed, 
 and is capable of receiving the first instructions. Be 
 very careful of these first years of life, you will have 
 less trouble when those arrive in vt^hich their educa» 
 tion should be more extended. 
 
 In ordinary undertakings or constructions, men 
 examine with care the bases or foundations of them, 
 whilst childhood is often delivered up to the caprices 
 of relations or servants, and to the foolish idea that 
 these early years are of little importance, and that it 
 will be time to repair faults of character when reason 
 begins to be developed. They forget that the birth 
 of passions precedes that of reason, and that time is 
 given them to strengthen. Too often, for instance, 
 you see parents grant or refuse their children that 
 which they ask, not on account of the justice or ex- 
 travagance of the desires which they have formed, 
 but merely following their personal inclinations. If 
 they have met with a fortunate incident, they are in 
 a good humour, and grant indiscriminately all that 
 they ask them j if, on the contrary, any trouble, any 
 disposition to melancholy excite their temper, they 
 refuse even useful things. How do children then 
 act ? They bound themselves no longer to knowing 
 whether their demand is reasonable ; they are' solely 
 occupied in the care of j^scovering the disposition of 
 xn\nd of their parents, and they are consequently led 
 to reflections which degrade, in their eye, those who 
 refuse or grant, and which incline them to artificial 
 calculations. Who among us has not heard very 
 young children say to one another : **- Do not ask 
 my governess for that, she is in a bad humour, and 
 will not let us have it ;" or, <' Mamma is very lively 
 this morning, we can ask her to let us have what we 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 189 
 
 want." Parents must not, however, accustom chil- 
 dren to separate their interests from that which af- 
 fects them. A mother should say to her daughter : 
 I am ill, or, something gives me much pain, do not 
 make a noise, nor fatigue me with foolish questions; 
 I am not able to answer you ; then the little girl will 
 take a sensible part in the sufferings of her mother ; 
 she will no longer say : " Mamma refuses me be- 
 cause she is angry," she will say, '« Mamma is ill^ 
 and I must not teaze her." If any happy event 
 make the heart of a father or mother joyful, they 
 should tell it to their children, they should endeavour 
 to grant them the thing which they desire, an agree- 
 able walk, or a little party with their young friends ; 
 they should divide every thing in common with their 
 children, joy or sorrow. In fixing these soft family 
 chains, they will sow in their hearts the most precious 
 social virtues. 
 
 In general, the occupations, duties and pleasures 
 of the world employ a great deal too much of the 
 time of mothers of families. They talk not enough 
 to children. It is useless to fatigue their attention 
 by insignificant words, too often repeated ; they pro- 
 duce no effect. If a mother live with her children, 
 if she observe them carefully, they will of themselves 
 indicate to her the moment for speaking to them 
 with effect. Play often fatigues them ; they then 
 come to her, and crossing their little hands, seem to 
 fix all their attention on the tales which they desire 
 and solicit. If the mother profit by this disposition, 
 she will for ever engrave on their young hearts the 
 truest notions and the most useful maxims. If she 
 tells them a story, let it be a moral tale ; and accus- 
 tom them in good time to distinguish the recital of 
 R 2 
 
4 
 
 190 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION; 
 
 a fact, which really happened, from an agreable fic- 
 tionj tell them this is called a historr, because the fact 
 IS true, but this is only a tale invented to amuse yoli. 
 Authors never deceive as to the species of their 
 tales ; they know that they would not be valued, if 
 they dared to deceive ; for truth alone merits the 
 esteem of men. When children begin to read, you 
 will tell them, look at the title of this book, you read 
 the word history; open that, you will find tales; 
 you are therefore aware, even before you read them, 
 that one is a true recital, the other a pure invention, 
 composed to amuse. If you relate a thing which 
 happened to yourself, your sister, or your governess, 
 you repeat a history ; change the least circumstance, 
 and it is a story. If you had wit enough to composi 
 a tale like Beauty and the Beast, or Prince C^eriy, 
 though there w^ere neither Beauty, Beast, nor Prince 
 Cherry, that would not be blameable, because you 
 commenced by saying that you tell a tale* How 
 many various and precious things may be conveyed 
 ioto young minds by a mother who appreciates the 
 utility of such conversations with her children ! Not 
 only does she form their judgment, but she con- 
 structs the precious foundation of piety, charity and 
 goodness. Observe, might she say, this little girl, 
 belonging to the gardener, — ^she is very pretty, she runs 
 as quickly as ) ou do, she is very clever, it is she who 
 catches the finest butterflies in my garden, to give 
 them to you j she knows how to make charming 
 nosegays ; she is beloved by her mother as I love 
 you ; she has a heart like yourself, it beats with joy 
 when her mo:hcr returns from market, or from the 
 fields, as your's does, when I return from a place to 
 which 1 could not take you. What, therefore, is the 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. l9l 
 
 difference which exists between this little girl and 
 you ? Her stays and peuicoat are of coarse worsted 
 stuff, your frock is of very fine muslin ; (hat is be- 
 cause God has made her parents poor and your's 
 rich ; but it is God who gives riches, and tnkes them 
 away ; God can therefore deprive us of our fortune, 
 and give it to the father and mother of that little girl. 
 
 While appreciating the usefulness of conversing 
 with children, we must not, however, answer all their 
 questions : they often ask things on which it is 
 thought necessary to deceive them, which is always 
 very wrong ; we also conclude by rendering them 
 importunate. We should explain to them all which 
 they can conceive, and when they ask improper 
 questions, say to them, this is above the comprehen- 
 sion of >our age. 
 
 Children often ask questions for the pleasure of 
 talking ; they ask an explanation which has been al- 
 ready given to them ; we should be content with re- 
 calling it to their recollection, and not again replying ; 
 they then take the pains to think, and it operates in 
 them a little movement which brings to their memory 
 that which has been already told them, and shows 
 them the utility of reflection. W^hen we are well ac- 
 quainted with the degree of their intelligence, we 
 may also exercise their minds in qualifying those 
 idle questions which they ask on things which they 
 can themselves explain ; tell them to think for a mo- 
 ment, and they will answer themselves. This deci- 
 sion will discover to them that one moment of reflec- 
 tion will suffice to satisfy their curiosity. 
 
 Love, confidence, respect and fear, are the senti- 
 ments with which we should inspire children j these 
 sentiments are placed in the order in which it is of 
 
Il2 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 
 
 consequence to develope them. In ancient educa- 
 tion, children were only inspired with fear; in mo- 
 dern, we are occupied much too exclusively in making 
 them love us. It is true, ihat respect and fear rarely 
 produce confidence and love ; but love, without fear 
 and respect, is supported merely on all which flatters 
 the desires of childhood ; and this love drops with 
 age. It is a slight flame, which a breath may ex- 
 tinguish ; but nourished by esteem and respect, it 
 increases with the years, and guides the first steps of 
 youth much more surely than fear aloae, from which 
 the passions can easily disengage themselves ; whilst 
 an afl"ectionate heart is drawn towards duty by the 
 fear of afflicting beloved parents. 
 
 The most important thing is to teach children to 
 keep pace with the development of their reason ; 
 seek not to obtain premature flowers which will pro- 
 duce no fruit. 'Rousseau has thundered against lit- 
 tle prodigies. '' The masterpiece of a good educa- 
 tion," said be, "is to make a reasonable man; and 
 we pretend to bring up a child by reason— it is be- 
 ginning at the end." But the just wrath of this great 
 philosopher has thrown him into another extreme — 
 he has not sufficiently felt that it is necessary to rea- 
 son with what little reason the child possesses ; that 
 far trom allowing i'S faculties to sleep, far, also, from 
 rousing them, it is good to follow the development 
 step by step, and to hasten them as nature shows her- 
 self prodigal or parsimonious towards it. 
 
 Ihe most essential thing is to imprint on their 
 memorv the meaning of words ; it is aiding the de- 
 velopment of their judgment. Words, according to 
 Condillac, are essential to the knowledge of things ; 
 they are algebraic signs, which serve for the solution 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 193 
 
 oi all problems. The heavy and silent, whom we 
 instruct not, experience no intellectual development, 
 'I'o form the judgment of children we must there- 
 fore enlarge their vocabulary ; and in this opinion, 
 (which accords not with that of Rousseau) we see 
 that memory is a mechanical power necessary to be 
 formed before the perfect judgment of things, 
 
 A child brought up by its mother should labour 
 to please her, and should rejoice when it sees her sa- 
 tisfied ; this inducement, well managed, may have 
 great results. I would say, further, that we must 
 be careful of lavishing promises and menaces ; if we 
 announce with emphasis a long promised reward, if 
 we threaten a long time before we punish, we lower 
 the value of our favours or punishments ; promise, 
 threaten, but very rarely. Education consists as 
 much in what is to be done as in what is to be said. 
 
 The orders given by a mother are the result of 
 her reflections ; she should therefore express them 
 with coolness ; they will be followed without cha- 
 grin. Why should she not at times make use of the 
 absolute expression of her will, to command the 
 child to do any thing which is agreeable to it, to 
 send it to play or to walk ? It will prove the means 
 of separating the idea of constraint from that of obe- 
 dience ; but in all c^ses, agreeable or severe, the 
 order should be irrj^vocable. 
 
 It is the habit of obedience which forms the cha- 
 racter. Knowledge, wit, talents, genius, these pre- 
 cious fruiis of study or of nature, are too often spoil- 
 ed by faults of character. The habit of obedience 
 takes away nothing from courage, generous indepen- 
 dence, or the firmness of resolution in man ; for I 
 am supposing that we never make the child bend ex- 
 
194 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 
 
 cept to reason j and this salutary habit destroys a 
 vague, rebellious spirit ; prepare it thus to respect 
 the laws, to submit to necessity, finally, to be resigned, 
 the most powerful consolation in misfortune. But it 
 is particularly useful to women to know how to obey ; 
 this is the true source of their happiness ; a father, 
 a mother, a husband, dispose of their whole life, and 
 they have moreover to bear with submission the yoke 
 of kindness and complaisance. 
 
 A child, used to correction, weeps when it is pu- 
 nished, but it is in rage and not in repentance ? all 
 its faults increase j he hates study and cherishes ha- 
 tred and malice ; you would conquer it ; you ex- 
 haust yourself in severe or barbarous inventions, and 
 you only harden it. 
 
 Woe to the mother, if, in a moment of impatience, 
 forgetting that the child which she rears is her own 
 offspring, she strikes it in order to correct it. If an- 
 ger at first frightens a child, it becomes accustomed 
 to it J it goes so far as to preserve its composure, 
 while you lose your's, and at the moment in which 
 you punish it for a fault, it perceives a vice in you. 
 If, besides, physical endurance be the only thing on 
 which a mother founds the success of her correction, 
 the most noble qualities have already flown from the 
 young heart which she wrnild form to virtue. The 
 body, which we strike, in the hope of correcting the 
 soul and mind, will be accustomed to blows, and the 
 punishment must be prolonged. A father or mother 
 could then no longer approach their child to caress it, 
 without seeing it raise its arm to shield the cheek 
 which they would kiss.* 
 
 • The common and shortest way of coiTecting children, is by punis' 
 ments and ihe rod, almost tl:e ouiy remedy known or used Lv sevtia! 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 195 
 
 It is a barbarous folly to expose a child, who is 
 about to be punished, to the ridicule of his compa- 
 nions. I'he secresy of punishments is, on the con- 
 trary, very useful in private education ; it doubles 
 the effect of the pain inflicted ; it causes a proper 
 modesty. In humiliating a child, we run the risk 
 of debasing it in its own eyes, and discouraging it. 
 Always respect in it the noble dignity which belongs 
 to man. Punishments are continually used in edu- 
 cation, which do much more harm than they repair. 
 
 For example, the practice of shutting up children 
 when we would punish them, is a dangerous custom ; 
 if it be in a dark place, as I have already said, you 
 render them fearful. The impression alone that so- 
 litude makes upon them in a closed up chamber, 
 may become fatal j their imagination carries them 
 away, you know not whither ; it may conduct them, 
 perhaps, to some vice, perhaps to some actof phrenzy, 
 A woman once related to me, that having been shut 
 up by her governess, and seeing from the place in 
 which she was, her young sisters, playing and run- 
 ning in a garden, despair seized her, and the door 
 was opened by chance at the instant in which she 
 
 of those who are charged with the education ofyouth. But this remedy 
 often becomes a more dangerous evil than those which lh^-y would 
 cure, if it be used unsLasonnbly, or without ip. asurt; ; for besides that 
 the punishments of which we here speak, i\i.ii i? to say, the rod and the 
 whip, have something in them indecent, low, and servile ; i hey cannot 
 of themselves remedy faults ; und ic j,- not lik^^ly that a correction 
 should become useful lo a child, if the shame of having done wrong have 
 not morepoweron its mind 'ban even be pain. Besides, these pu- 
 nishments give it an incu'able aversion to things which we should endf-a- 
 vour to make it like: tL. v ct"an<;e not the leinper, and do not reform 
 nature, but mereh repress it for a time, and only cause the passions to 
 burst foith v.ith more violence when they are at liberty. Th'ey often 
 abuse the mind, and harden it in evil ; for a child who has not sufficient 
 liorour to be sensible to reprimand, accustoms himself to blows, and, 
 like a slavf htars with punishment — (llollin, 'Vaite des Etudes, edi- 
 tion de M. Le Tronne, vol. xxviii. pages 268-269,) 
 
196 THOUGHTS OX EDUCATIO:,. 
 
 was going to precipitate herself from a height of 
 twenty feet. I will quote two melancholy examples 
 of threats of too severe punishment. A little girl, of 
 nine or ten years of age, who came with her parents 
 to pass the week of Corpus Christi, in a country- 
 house near Paris, was tempted to take a watch be- 
 longing to one of her young friends, and yielded to 
 this criminal desire. The watch was sought for, 
 and found ; the thief was discovered ; and the in- 
 dignant parents forced her to follow the procession 
 of Corpus Christi, with a writing, bearing the words 
 The stealer of the -watch. The culprit, confounded, 
 submitted to the terrible punishment. She returned 
 with her parents without uttering a word, or shed- 
 ding a single tear ; and crossing a court met a ser- 
 vant, and said to her : Adieu, Marianne, I am dis- 
 honoured ! then entering a wood, in which there was 
 a piece of water, threw herself into it. 
 
 A few years ago, a merchant of Paris threatened his 
 son, aged ten years, with a very severe punishment, 
 if, at the end of another week, he again brought a 
 note of blame from a schoolmaster, to whom he went 
 as day scholar. Saturday arrived ; the note of the 
 master was still worse than the preceding ones. The 
 child went as far as Gros-Caillou, undressed him- 
 self, folded up his clothes, put them on the edge of 
 the river, and, en his great coat, which contained his 
 things, he placed the fatal billet of the professor, on 
 which he wrote : " I dare not present this bad note 
 to papa, I would rather die." What virtues would 
 be developed in young hearts, so susceptible as this, 
 of a praiseworthy shame and lively repentance, if 
 providence granted them parents capable ol directing 
 the primary years of their existence. 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. i97 
 
 There arc, moreover, imprudent punishments, 
 which without being so melancholy in their effects, 
 favour one fault instead of destroying another. If, 
 for instance a child has read badly, and that to pu- 
 nish him you make him eat his bread without sweet- 
 meats, you are far from inspiring him with a taste 
 for reading, you have only mortified his appetite. A 
 little girl has made her hem wrong, she has scrawltd 
 her copy ; her mother (and there are too many such) 
 will tell her with emphasis, that she shall not put on 
 her new frock, or that she shall go out without her 
 necklace ; this is the best lesson in coquetry that the 
 little girl can receive. Instead of this, read the les- 
 son anew, make her re-commence the copy, or the 
 hem, and destine the hour of recreation to this work. 
 If you punish the child during a repast, deprive 
 it not of food ; make it take its accustomed dinner in 
 the same room with yourself, at the same hour, but 
 at a separate table ; deprive it of a sensual pleasure, 
 and it will attach the more value to it j deprive it of 
 honour and you make it feel the value of honour. It 
 is of consequence to distinguish well in children the 
 things which are to be corrected from those which 
 we are wrong in wishing to repress, such as the in« 
 considerate noise and importunate games of .vhich 
 they are never tired ; but when they submit not to 
 the command of ceasing these diversions, and con- 
 tinue them with obstinacy, it is the disobedience 
 which we punish, and the punishment is ju'^tly ap- 
 plied. Punishments to be useful must be rare : mul- 
 tiplied and repeated, they produce more than one 
 bad effect ; for children have a wonderful facil.ty in 
 turning thf^m into ridicule. We fear to render chil^ 
 dren avaricious, by rewarding their good conduct 
 S 
 
198 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 
 
 with money. Instead of depriving yourself of this 
 means, is there not a method of ennobling it ? Give 
 money to your children, but on condition that in their 
 turn they give it to the poor, they will then know 
 the most noble use of it, without yoar having occa- 
 sion to teach it them. In private education we 
 should in general be very sparing of compliments ; 
 children cannot be compared to others, more ad- 
 vanced, without being disposed to believe them- 
 selves little wonders, particularly when strangers 
 are weak enough to praise them. We should also 
 banish punishments which are known to others than 
 the parents ; proper vanity and shame are sentiments 
 which in young hearts should be equally preserved. 
 The only manner of imbuing children with the salu- 
 tary fear of public opinion, is to" exaggerate the care 
 which we take to render their wrongs a family se- 
 cret ; a tribunal is more fearful from its privacy. 
 We must preserve their earliest years from the in- 
 fluence of che world, which spoils all. Applaud that 
 which is good ; grant a maternal kiss as a recom- 
 pense ; these very simple means will suffice to direct 
 children, who are neither over indulged nor severely 
 treatrd. 
 
 In children, as in grown persons, anger is uni- 
 formly excited by resistance. We should not, how- 
 ever, always give into all the caprices of the child : 
 but a refusal, made with coolness, and always irre- 
 vocable, provokes their wrath but slighdy. It is im- 
 portant not to excite in them de^res which cannot 
 be satisfied, a precaution which is seldom taken by 
 governesses. They show a watch to a young child, 
 ^nd make it tick in its ear ; it asks for it, and they 
 immediately shut their hands, and putting the watch 
 
rFIOUGIlTS ON EDUCATION. 199 
 
 behind them, say, that they have it not. The child 
 is vexed at not having the object of its desires, is 
 angry at being deceived, cries ; and thus they give 
 it both a lesson in passion, and an example of false* 
 hood. Soon, like its nurse, it will conceal an object 
 which it wishes not to give up, and like her, it will 
 affirm that it has it not, for children are mirrors 
 which reflect all actions. 
 
 If the pupil grows up without your being able 
 wholly to repress the heat of its character, use little 
 punishment, address yourself to its reason, fortify 
 the only power which can repress this fault ; remem- 
 ber, above all, that anger is contagious : be not con- 
 fident in yourself, and oppose only a calm and dig- 
 nified resistance to the transports of which you are 
 witness : when the crisis is over, you can apply the 
 remedy. 
 
 If the knowledge of good and evil be natural iri 
 man, it is in cultivated and enlightened man ; it is a 
 knowledge which children cannot, certainly, possess. 
 Instruct your pupil, therefore, of that which you for- 
 bid ; fear not repeating that which you have already 
 said, and do it in a mild and imposing manner. If 
 in early play it breaks some china and you chide it, 
 you may expect it to break much more, and never 
 allow that it did so : if for the first sweetmeats it 
 may steal, you punish it, it may still pilfer : but in 
 the hope of escaping punishment, it will tell a false- 
 hood. 
 
 Fear may engage a child to falsehood, if you say 
 to it, with a menacing voice, I should like to know 
 who broke this ? the poor little culprit will cry, It 
 was not I. A child who is not unnecessarily inti- 
 midated, becomes confiding ; its mother then reads 
 
200 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 
 
 its young heart, she studies it, and sees what she 
 ought to rectify. Besides, by encouraging confi- 
 dence, she has already banished dissimulation and 
 lalsehaod ; but this confidence, so precious, should 
 be merited. If you deceive your pupil, it would 
 soon cease to believe you ; and soon deceive you in 
 return. To deceive a child, to appease its anger or 
 its tears — what a futile advantage ! and how dearly 
 is it purchased ! It is, however, done every day. A 
 mother tells her daughter that she is going out j the 
 child weeps ; the mother adds, that she will return 
 directly, and the tears are arrested ^ but the mother 
 returns not, and in future the little girl will cry ob- 
 stinately and incessantly, every time she sees her 
 mother preparing to go out. On a similar occasion, 
 I have seen a mother put her snuff-box in the hands 
 of her daughter, saying : You know that I cannot 
 remain long without snuff, and you know that 1 shall 
 soon return, because I leave you my box as a pledge. 
 The child was calmed by receiving a pledge. What 
 a shameful guarantee of truth ! 
 
 Children will sometimes tell you, unnecessarily, 
 and through pure carelessness, a thing which is not 
 true ; learn to distinguish this sort of falsehood, and 
 use not severe chastisement to repress it. A thou- 
 sand opportunities of punishment will present them- 
 selves to you. For instance, the child will say to 
 you : I am thirsty, I am hungry, and you will reply, 
 that you do not believe it, that it has already deceived 
 you ; and such, you will add, is the fate of those who 
 depart from truth, — when they do speak it ihey are 
 not believed. Do not make a jest of this kind of 
 punishment, but let your pupil feel the want from 
 which she suffers ; never ask a child if what it says 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 201 
 
 is true : begin by believing it, and let it perceive 
 your surprise, your grief and anger, when you dis- 
 cover that it has deceived you. 
 
 Activity of imagination, and the desire of occupa- 
 tion lead certain children to forge tales : it is this 
 disposition of mind which produces impostors. The 
 history of impostors would furnish an useful and in- 
 teresting collection ; they are found in all classes of 
 society. Young peasants have invented cheats, 
 which have thrown their province into disorder : 
 other impostors have kindled wars and usurped 
 thrones. A woman, led by a criminal audacity, has 
 become in our days the pretended friend of a queen 
 of France, though the noble sentiments and dignified 
 habits of this princess, since so unfortunate, render 
 the tales of this intriguer as impossible as they are 
 improbable.^ We should therefore endeavour to 
 stifle in its birth the dangerous vice of false inven« 
 tion. People who are not of necessity placed at the 
 door, seldom have the fault of listening there. A 
 child will not listen outside its mother's chamber, 
 when it has a certain place near her in the inside | 
 and whilst nothing is said but what may be heard, 
 there is no occasion to banish it. Have a care how 
 you engender the failing of curiosity, by yielding for 
 your convenience to the habit of sending away chil- 
 dren without precaution, when you would speak of 
 things of which they should be ignorant. 
 
 As soon as they begin to read writing tolerably, 
 they will take a great pleasure in exercising this new 
 talent ; we should watch the use which they make of 
 
 • See in the Memoirs of Madame Campan the details relative to the 
 affair of ihe necklace. 
 
 % 2 
 
202 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 
 
 it: we cannot too soon teach them that discretion 
 which forms the security of society. 
 
 We put a letter, close sealed, on a table, with the 
 address underneath ; the child takes it up and wishes 
 to read it ; we should teach him, that when a letter 
 is placed thus, it signifies that it is not intended that 
 the address shall be read, that they are uneducated 
 people who indulge a similar curiosity; that we 
 should never seek to know any more than has beerl 
 confided to us ; that if we find a letter open on the 
 ground, we should merely read the address, and re- 
 turn it to the person who has lost it, without read- 
 ing the contents: that we should never approach 
 people who are conversing in an under-tone, that we 
 should not obtain by surprise the secrets of any per- 
 son, and that we should always respect those whose 
 confidence we receive. 
 
 There is also a species of curiosity which manifests 
 itself by embarrassing questions ; we should know 
 how to answer so as to calm the imagination of chil- 
 dren, rather than excite it. As soon as they reflect, 
 they wish to know how they came into the world. 
 We cannot long satisfy this curiosity, by telling them 
 that boys are found under a cabbage, and girls under 
 a rose tree. At six years of age, a very lively little 
 girl rej)lied to her mother : «^ iVIy Ave-Maria has 
 taught me where childen are placed before they are 
 born." I have always answered this question with 
 success, by saying, that the birth of children was a 
 very shocking surgical operation, and that almost all 
 mothers risk their life in giving it to their children ; 
 the word surgical alarms them, and calms their im- 
 agination. They knov*- very well that we do not ex- 
 plain to them the manner in which an arm or a leg 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 203 
 
 is cut off, a thing which they often hear spoken of; 
 they therefore ask no more, and the idea that their 
 birth has put the life of their mother in danger, 
 softens them, and renders her still more dear to them. 
 
 By these principles, thus engraved in very young 
 minds, we cure children of curiosity, and makt tht^m 
 observe the prt-cious laws of delicacy, too often ne- 
 glected by people who may not however descend to 
 the low curiosity of the vulgar. 
 
 If I speak of theft, (be not offended at the word) 
 a long experience has taught me that the desire of 
 appropriating to themselves that which belongs to 
 others, is too often engendered in the mind of the 
 youngest children, and afflicting examples prove that 
 the shameful vice has been found in the most dis- 
 tinguished classes of society. It is by teaching chil- 
 dren the respect which they owe to the property of 
 others, that you keep from them the fatal temptation 
 to deprive them of it ; delay not, therefore, to inspire 
 them with this salutary respect. 
 
 Before a child can speak to you and understand 
 you, it has a language, which it uses to express its 
 desires ; it weeps, it cries, and extends its arms to- 
 wards the desired object. 
 
 If this object be not of a nature to be given to it, 
 say : It is papa's, it is mamma's. You will thus aid 
 the first words which it does already, or soon will 
 pronounce, to prepare its mind for the knowledge of 
 thine and mine. You will soon say, while shewing it its 
 play thmg: Fhis is your's, and by degrees it will learn 
 that the plaything of its brother does not belong to 
 it. If the horse belonging to one of its playfellows 
 be finer than its own, and tempt it, say not, to con- 
 sole it, that its own is the finest, — confess the truth. 
 
204 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION* 
 
 But if it would appropriate to itself the thing which 
 tempts it, prevent it from doing so. Mothers, know 
 how to resist the tears of your children ; those early 
 tears which imprudent v/omen stop, with a com- 
 plaisance that may one day cause themselves to shed 
 very bitter ones. 
 
 If you have perceived in your young pupil an af- 
 flicting propensity to theft, apply all you cares to the 
 destruction of this inclination before increasing age 
 strengthens it ; but learn to distinguish whether this 
 dawning vice be accompanied by others ; for if the 
 object of your tenderness manifests a soul naturally 
 inclin'^d to evil, the whole system of your education 
 should assume a severer aspect. Without being 
 more lavish of punishments, you should be more 
 sparing of caresses ; your least words, your most in- 
 different actions, should be calculated for the effect 
 they will produce on the child. The object then is 
 not to conduct it in the path of virtue,, but to bring 
 it back to it. Do you perceive a ray of hope, does 
 some change appear to crown your efforts ? do not 
 suffer this salutary moment to escape : profit by it, 
 do not lavish praises, perhaps premature ; above all, 
 do not rev/ard the child, (tor it has only not done 
 wrong) but shew it yourself, and let all around you 
 manifest the satisfaction which you experience. Let 
 it read in your eyes, and guess in your smile, the 
 alleviation of pain which it causes you. 
 
 A mother may see destroyed every evening in 
 her parlour the happy results of the morning. The 
 anxiety of the triflers who visit her is to find a sub- 
 ject of conversation to pass away the quarter of an 
 hour which they devote to her. They see a child ; 
 they notice it, caress and question it, and praise its 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 205 
 
 cleverness; if there were no child, they would no- 
 lice the lap-dog. How many mothers have I seen, 
 who, knowing the world, justly appreciated the sickly 
 and perfidious eulogies thus lavished, and yet by an 
 unconquerable weakness, suffered their children to 
 be so praised. 
 
 Some act still more injudiciously, by quoting them- 
 selves the profound reflection, or the witty reply 
 that their child has made. The child will one day 
 say : Mamma tell the lady what I said this morning. 
 
 A foolish vanity equally inspires those ridiculous 
 mothers, who make a parade of the education which 
 they bestow, and interrupt a conversation to annoy 
 themselves about some nonsense of their pets, or to 
 answer their idle questions. That mother, who is 
 the most usefully occupied with her duties of go- 
 verness, is the mother who occupies others the least 
 with them. 
 
 SECT. IV. 
 
 As soon as a child can pronounce distinctly, teach it 
 to pray to God ; to learn to thank him for his bene- 
 fits, and to love him. You will explain to it how he 
 must be feared, when you begin to teach it the Cate- 
 chism. 
 
 We meet many parents who would systematically 
 retard the moment in which we teach children the 
 name of God, his power, and the worship which is 
 due to him. They d(jubiless ought to postpone 
 the instruction given in the Catechism, on the ex- 
 istence and attributes of the Divinity ; but as to 
 the love of God, placed though indistinctly in the 
 heart of all men, whatever the nature of their belief, 
 it should be developed in children as soon as they are 
 
'206 THOUGHTS OX EDUCATION. 
 
 capable of admiration, love and gratitude. Say to a 
 child that it is to God that it owes the tenderness of 
 its paaents ; let it pray night and morning for the 
 preservation of their health. Let the prayer be short, 
 bui suffer it not to be muttered ; say it with the child, 
 and instil that feeling, that sentiment which pene- 
 trates to the heart, and is engraven thereon for ever. 
 Show God in all the beauties of nature ; say that it 
 is he who ornaments the ground with flowers, who 
 covers it with fruits ; that the fine roses, the deli- 
 cious grapes, are presents of his bounty ; that he 
 makes the waters flow, and turns the harvests yel- 
 low. Make your pupil admire the sun, so beautiful, 
 and so brilliant, that he cannot look on it ; teach him 
 that God placed it in the heavens to warm the earth 
 and nourish it. Thus explain to him all things which 
 strike his view, and ought to astonish it. You will 
 thereby not only instruct, but you will dispose him to 
 direct his own attention to objects which successive- 
 ly appear before him. The habitual reading of the 
 works of the immortal Fenelon, will facilitate to a 
 mother the means of giving lessons so important. 
 
 The love of God thus engraven in the hearts of 
 children, we must not delay instructing them in the 
 first truths of their religion : they are contained in 
 the usual prayers. About the age of six years, reli- 
 gious instruction, thus instilled in infancy, through 
 the natural phenomena at which man ceases not to 
 be astonished, becomes the most solid basis which 
 can be given to articles of faith. 
 
 Be careful of saying to a child that there are wick- 
 ed poor ; conceal your opinion of these unfortu- 
 nates, too often reduced by their vices to beg their 
 bread; they are the images of nudity and suffering, and 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 207 
 
 that is enough. Shut not an opening heart to this 
 touching impression : let it be softened by seeing 
 half-naked children and old 'people covered with rags; 
 they ask bread, let the child give it to them. Let it 
 have an allowance from its earliest years destined 
 to this pious use, and let it be thus accustomed to 
 take the part of the poor. If it asks you why God gives 
 not bread to these poor people ? answer, that if riches 
 are not equally divided in the world, to repair this 
 misfortune, God has placed in the heart of man sen- 
 sibility, and the desire of assisting his fellow crea- 
 tures. 
 
 Finally, when a child gives alms to an old person, 
 make it accompany this gift with a testimony of re- 
 spect ; say to it, give to this old man because he is 
 poor, salute him because he is old. Useful precepts 
 may be contained in few words. 
 
 Men are born with a disposition to imitate the ac- 
 tions of others ; we should therefore be continually 
 careful not to give to children the slightest example 
 of the cruelties which are constantly exercised on ani- 
 mals. A mother should carefully keep her children 
 from the sight of these barbarous scenes, which oc- 
 cer every moment, and particularly in the country, 
 for the wants and supplit^s of the household. Never 
 let them assist at the cruel death of a pig ; let them 
 not see the kitchen-maid y^lunge a knife into the 
 throat of a chicken or a pigeon : let them not be wit- 
 nesses to the cruelties employed by the huntsman to 
 train his dogs. 1 would proscribe those cruel diver- 
 sions in which a child takes pleasure in torturing 
 an insect. iVIoreover, children should never be 
 amused by the pains taken by unfortunate birds to 
 draw up their seed and water. 
 
208 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 
 
 Bring up children to tell the truth, you will there- 
 by make sincere men ; render them compassionate, 
 they will become brave without being cruel : tastes 
 change, bat principles are permanent. 
 
 SECT. V. 
 
 Communication with domestics should be as rare 
 as possible j children can only lose by it ; to sepa- 
 rate them entirely would be impossible ; it is there- 
 fore very necessary to teach children to behave well 
 to them. Repeat often that their faults arise from 
 the misfortune of not having received an education, 
 and that they are more to be pitied than blamed ; 
 this equitable idea is rarely met with in the minds of 
 grown up men, therefore place it in good time in 
 those of children j make them perceive, that if we 
 have the right of speaking haughtily, and in their 
 presence, of the faults of our servants, the silence 
 which respect imposes on them deprives them not of 
 the right of complaining of us in places where opi- 
 nions and judgments are often formed, which become 
 diffused, and sully our character. 
 
 Forbid children all familiarity with servants ; the 
 best disapprove of it themselves, and will serve nei- 
 ther the haughty man, who will not address a single 
 word to his servants, nor him who forgets himself by 
 putting himself on an equality with them. Gifts do 
 not always obtain the attachment of domestics. The 
 most estimable have a feeling of their good qualities, 
 and will not be unjustly offended. How many women 
 load their femraes^de-chamber with favours, and 
 yet cannot attach one to them ! 
 
 When a young girl approaches the age of ten 
 years, w^e should be particularly careful to watch her 
 
Thoughts on education, 209 
 
 communications with the female servants, and ren . 
 der them as rare as possible. With the old she will 
 forget what she owes to their age, and the length oi 
 their service ; she will play with the young, treat 
 them sometimes with familiarity, sometimes with 
 impertinence, and contract the dangerous habit of 
 confiding to them family secrets, of which they 
 ought to be ignorant. Women have great need of 
 being early and wisely directed in their conduct to- 
 wards those who serve them. Sensibility of heart, 
 delicacy of health, sedentary life, the details of house- 
 keeping, the toilet, and travelling, materially connect 
 the mistress of a house with her female servants. 
 Bounty without familiarity, reprimands given with 
 coolness, testimonies of satisfaction for things which 
 merit it, — these fix and attach women who deserve to 
 be valued ; they feel their own worth : like ourselves, 
 they have their own self-love, and like not to be de- 
 graded in the eyes of the world. 
 
 SECT. VI. 
 
 Why should a little girl be complimented on her 
 toilet? We should confine ourselves to praising her 
 for being properly dressed. Sufficient attentian is 
 not paid to the coquetry which is infused into girls j 
 whilst we should constantly direct their self-love to- 
 wards a taste for propriety, the attraction of which 
 surpasses, in all eyes, the brilliancy of the richest 
 apparel. When a mother ornaments her child 
 with rich embroideries or laces, she acts neither 
 for the happiness of the present nor that of the fu- 
 ture, but merely gratifies her own vanity. Simple 
 clothes, a straw hat, a veil, and gloves, all clean, and 
 in good order, should be the apparel of a little girl. 
 T 
 
^10 THOUGHTS O.V EDUCATIOK. 
 
 However rich her parents may be, ther will act with 
 wisdom, and make her feel very little privation, in 
 allowing her nothing more ; fine things only incom- 
 mode children, and occasion them anger. "True 
 grace,*' says Fenelon, *• depends not on a vain and 
 affected apparel. It is true that we ought to consult 
 propriety, adaptation and health, in the clothes ne- 
 cessary to cover our bodies ; but, after ail, these 
 stuffs which cover us, and which we may render 
 convenient and agreeable, can never be the orna- 
 ments which bestow^ true beauty."* 
 
 SECT. VII. 
 
 Teach children their sports, but do not make use 
 of amusements invented to facilitate their first studies : 
 these surprise their memory, destroy their intelli- 
 gence, and prevent them from application. We must 
 not merely consider the pleasure of a first success, 
 but prepare lor others. The best of all methods is 
 to have the letters of the alphabet printed upon 
 cards ; place them on the ground, and name them to 
 the child, who finds them out, and brings them to 
 you, naming thtm : we thus save the disagreeable- 
 ness of remaming in one place before a little book. 
 After the wants of eating and sleeping, that of mo- 
 tion is necessary to children ; we should therefore be 
 careful how we restrain it ; we should even pro- 
 mote it« 
 
 Vexations given in first lessons produce, in some 
 children, a distaste for all instruction; we should 
 lead them by the most insensible steps to the habit of 
 fixing their attention. 
 
 • CEaTrea chslsies de Fcneloa, de I'EttoBilioQ des FiUes. 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 211 
 
 As soon as children find pleasure in reading, they 
 suspend their play, bring, themselves, their little 
 book, and like an occupation which has not been pre- 
 ceded by tears ; we should fix an hour in the morn- 
 ing for reading, and carefully keep to the book which 
 interests them. This will accustom children to much 
 regularity in the employment of their time. By this 
 we also inspire them with a desire to finish a reading 
 commenced. 
 
 After the first progressive lessons of the Abbe 
 Gauthier, make them read the Contes cfun genre 
 nouveau. The author of this charming work has 
 kept himself anonymous, but has made a most useful 
 present to mothers and children ; all is simple and 
 adapted to the most youthful capacity. 
 
 To make them read these tales which have charm- 
 ed the primary years of life, from our grandmothers 
 to ourselves, me must wait until children know very 
 well that the dog does not speak, that it barks, that 
 the horse neighs, and the ass brays : they will then 
 iaiigh at the wolf, dressed as a woman and laid in 
 the bed of the grandmother of little Red Riding 
 Hood. Prevent servants from telling them these 
 tales ; for they will not wait until their judgment is 
 sufficiently formed to hear, without alarm, the words : 
 ^' The better to eat you my child ;" children will 
 laugh at hearing these words, but they will not be 
 the less frightened at them. 
 
 Never allow more than one book at once, and do 
 not accustom children to the vague desire of chang- 
 ing their reading; it is placing words and things in 
 their memory without order, and which bear no fruit. 
 Perseverance teaches itself, and we know of what 
 utility it is in studies, and in all the transactions of 
 
il2 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATIO.V. 
 
 life. Bisides, children are very much disposed to 
 re-commence the readiog of a book, the words of 
 which have been explained to them, and which they 
 can read more easily j they like repetitions. Who 
 has not heard them ask their grandmother to amuse 
 them with the recital of a tale which they have heard 
 five or six times before ? 
 
 Give not to your pupils little works extracted from 
 ancient history, in which are repeated the actions 
 and names of Socrates, Alcibiades, Caesar, and Cato, 
 when they should only know those of Abraham and 
 Moses. Order, in the communication of history, 
 aids the development of mind, and is the most natu- 
 ral method of teaching it. 
 
 It is of importance to choose reading analagous to 
 the tastes and dispositions of children ; they then 
 find a real attraction. Observe the different sensa- 
 tions which they experience while reading tales in 
 which wicked children are justly punished. Do not 
 say to them, what a wicked boy that is ; leave theni 
 to make the remark. Do not say of the story which 
 should move their sensibility, how touching I leave 
 them to be moved ; and if some precious tears mani- 
 fest the emotion of a young heart, learn to conceal 
 the share which its sensibility has in producing your 
 own. Avoid kading childhood to feign this touch- 
 ing quality ; its only merit is sincerity ; and nature 
 in children is the most precious of all qualities. 
 
 SECT. viir. 
 
 With a hundred counters of ivory we may give 
 the first lessons in arithmetic. The idea of numbers 
 is essential to the development of intelligence. A 
 child has already acquired correctness in its idea? 
 
'THOtJGIlts ON Et)UCATXON, 213 
 
 when it has attained that of great and small numbers, 
 and does not say a hundred for four. Throw one, 
 two or three counters on the floor, the child picks 
 up, and counts them j shew it thus how to count an 
 hundred j then give it two counters, it places them ; 
 give it two others, and it counts four ; and so on. 
 7wo and two make four ^ is a very simple axiom, to 
 a cultivated capacity ; but until the age of six or 
 seven years demonstration alone can make it well 
 conceived : and thus simple addition may be taught. 
 The child places five counters, you make it take 
 away one, and ask it how many remain ? it finds 
 four; and learns, that from five take one, and there 
 remains four. Here you have given it the first lesson 
 of simple subtraction. As the child counts, trace 
 before it the figures which answer to the numbers 
 which it names ; teach it to know ihem, and to make 
 them on a slate. But never suffer those games which 
 throw some attraction on study ; keep steadily to the 
 pencil, the pen, and counters, until your lessons are 
 ended. 
 
 In teaching several children at once, we must ex» 
 pect to meet with some who have much difficulty to 
 conceive ; we should conceal ihis from them as much 
 as possible, and assist them a little more than the 
 others, that they may not lose the emulation which 
 proceeds from competition. Idleness is a general 
 defect ; it has its attractions ; we should do away 
 with them ; it is always ready to console the child 
 who is discontented with himself ; success and emu- 
 lation disengage the intelligent child from it, while 
 discouragement plunges the dull one headlong into it. 
 
 At the age of six years, without being fatigued by 
 premature efforts, a child may attain a very satisfac^ 
 t2 
 
:214 THOUGHTS OS EDUCATIOX^ 
 
 tory degree of intelligence. The time between this 
 and the seventeenth year, is of great importance in 
 the course of education. 
 
 We should then be incessantly occupied, not in 
 forming their reason, but in extending their judg- 
 ment. Reason is a result ; it is not to be taught, but 
 must be incited to grow. 
 
 SECT. IX. 
 
 At seven years of age the indispensable separation 
 takes place ; a mother places her son in the hands of 
 men, and remains charged with tbe education of her 
 daughters. The future destinies of these will de- 
 pend entirely upon the enlightened attentions and 
 examples which she will give them. 
 
 If she is neat, she will continually shew them the 
 use of being so; if she is domestic, she will make 
 them contract the precious love of ckez sot. The 
 English have a distinct word for this interior so- 
 journ, and pronounce it with a sentiment of respect, 
 which reminds us of the penates and lares of the an- 
 cients. Every virtuous French female experiences 
 this exclusive attachment that a woman should feel 
 :or her abode, and should depart from it as unwil- 
 lingly as English ladies quit their dear home. 
 
 There is no boarding-school, however well conS 
 ducted it may be — no grand national establishment^ 
 however wisely it may be organised^-no convent, 
 whatever may be its pious rule, that can give an 
 education comparable to that which a daughter re- 
 ceives from her mother, when she is well informed, 
 :\nd finds her sweetest occupation and truest glory 
 n the education of her daughters. But we may also 
 iffirm, that the education of the most obscure can- 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 215 
 
 vent, of the most middling boarding-school, is pre- 
 ferable to that given by an ignorant and dissipated 
 mother. She is continually repeating that she should 
 be miserable if she trusted her daughter in strange 
 hands ; and suffers her to grow up among servants, 
 in an ill regulated house j receiving ill-given lessons 
 from able professors, dearly paid for ; and almost al- 
 ways interrupted by all the details which consume 
 the morning of a woman of the world — yet such a 
 woman would educate her daughter ! 
 
 Can two such opposite educations have but one de- 
 nomination ? the first is maternal education, the se- 
 cond is merely education at home. 
 
 Mothers so little capable of bringing up their 
 daughters, believe they obviate all difficulties by tak- 
 ing a governess into the house. But to be usefully 
 assisted in a duty, they should be able to fulfil it. If 
 these mothers take any part in the education which 
 they cause to be given, it is merely to blame and 
 chide unreasonably ; sometimes they discourage the 
 pupil : sometimes, without consideration for the go- 
 verness, they change her, and exhaust the sensibility 
 of their daughters by the successive presence of wo- 
 men who are by turns praised as superior beings, to 
 whom they owe friendship, confidence and submis- 
 sion ; and denounced as valueless persons who are to 
 be got rid of. 
 
 When a mother, having delicate health, or perceiv- 
 ing the inferiority of her own information, decides 
 on procuring a governess, she should repose on the 
 person whom she has chosen, all the responsibility of 
 her important undertaking. Nothing can regulate her 
 more, or inspire her with more emulation. At liberty 
 as to the manner of her instruction, let her subject her 
 
216 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION'. 
 
 pupils to an examination on all the branches of their 
 education in the presence of their parents, once every 
 three months. Let a mother exercise a just watch- 
 fulness on the conduct of her girls, on the means 
 used to make them follow and like employment ; she 
 is then satisfied as to the conduct of the governess, 
 and informed of the reality of her talents. A gover- 
 ness should be freed from all the cares of servitude ; 
 let her attend to the health and the dress of children, 
 let her assist at their rising, and going to bed ; but 
 let a servant wait upon them. If children think 
 they see a kind of nurse in their governess, her pow- 
 er is destroyed. She should be treated as is a mo- 
 ther, who takes the trouble to instruct her child. 
 Parents, however, should not go so far as to procure 
 pleasures for a governess, of which her pupil does 
 not yet partake. She should not figure in a drawing- 
 room in an evening, when her pupil is not there : a 
 few hours of distraction can only render more pain- 
 ful the cares which are continually required in child- 
 hood ; and an instructress by labour and study should 
 cultivate the acquirements which she should teach. 
 
 Never let the least disapprobation be addressed 
 to a governess in the presence of her pupil ; a mother, 
 when she finds any thing to blame, should repress it 
 even in the expression of her countenance. The 
 youngest little girl, if she attends to it, will discover 
 in her features the proof of her dissatisfaction ; and 
 if she once believes that her governess has been found 
 fault with, she will incessantly try to throw blame on 
 her, and will no longer feel for her either fear or re- 
 sepct. Let all remarks to be made be confined to 
 private conversations ; and after this, behave so as 
 to defy the curious penetration with which the little 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 217 
 
 '^\v\ examines the features of her governess, to dis- 
 cover if there are the slightest traces of grief: the 
 property of seeing every thing belongs to the early 
 years of life. 
 
 SECT. X. 
 
 Well directed in all the branches of her education, 
 a girl may unite to agreeable talents the practice of 
 the duties belonging to a mistress of a family. Ta- 
 lents, even in the eyes of their most severe censors, 
 acquire an incontestable value, when a young person 
 possesses them without conceit, and sacrifices to them 
 no duty or convenience ; when she considers them 
 merely as an ornament to more essential qualities, 
 and sees in them only a means of diffusing a charm 
 over domestic life. 
 
 Let us not give way to a belief of the impossibility 
 of uniting, in a girl perfectly educated, accomplish- 
 ments and duties, which general opinion falsely deems 
 incompatible. I am withheld from describing too 
 particularly a maternal education carried to this high 
 degree of perfection ; but I know a girl, of eighteen 
 years of age, who expresses herself as well in English 
 and German as in her own language ; who is ac- 
 quainted with all that composes an extensive and so- 
 lid education ; has the greatest execution on the pi- 
 ano-forte, and particularly possesses the true talent 
 in music, that of reading it at sight ; and who paints 
 heads and landscapes in oil, so well as to find it a 
 useful resource against great reverses of fortune. 
 To these arts she unites the greatest skill in all the 
 works of her sex, from the simple seam to the art of 
 making artificial flowers ; and yet this union of dif- 
 ferent talents so little destroys her taste for the mo- 
 
£18 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 
 
 dest occupations of the household, that when in the 
 country she makes cheeses, preserves, and light con- 
 fectionary ; she interests herself in the details of the 
 kitchen, overlooks the farms, informs herself of all 
 that relates to the cultivation of the earth ; visits 
 the poor of the village, and assists, and causes them 
 to be taken care of when in sickness. In the evening 
 she entertains the assemblies in the drawing-room 
 with the rare talent of reading well ; singing also 
 with taste, or playing on the piano, to the dances of 
 her young friends. A sincere piety and attractive 
 modesty are the solid foundations of so many advan- 
 tages, owing to the most virtuous of mothers. I'his 
 amiable girl possesses them as an ornament bestowed 
 upon her, and never permits a compliment on her ta- 
 lents and qualities to be addressed to any but to her 
 from whom she derived them. In reading this de- 
 scription of her whose name must not be condemned 
 to the melancholy honour of publicity, you will only 
 see an ideal portrait ; whilst all who know her, struck 
 with the fidelity of the resemblance, will not confound 
 it with those models of perfection which figure in 
 works of education to excite the emulation of youth. 
 Will it be feared that this young girl, brought up 
 to divide her time equally between the duties of piety, 
 the occupations of her sex, and solidly acquired ta- 
 lents, may be induced to signalise herself among v.'o- 
 men of levity ? Let us suspend for a moment the 
 sentence pronounced too lightly against accomplish- 
 ments J let us inform ourselves of the kind of edu- 
 cation which frivolous women have received ; let us 
 inquire if they know how to profit by the pains taken 
 in their youth ; and we shall discover that they are 
 the most superficial, the least educated, the most en- 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION, 219 
 
 nuyees of their sex, who plunge with the greatest 
 blindness into the whirlpool of pleasure. " The ig- 
 norance of a girl," says Fenelon, " is the cause of 
 her ennui, and of her not knowing how to employ 
 herself innocently. Arrived at a certain age, if she 
 has never applied herself to solid occupations, she 
 can have for them neither taste nor esteem j all that 
 is serious appears dull to her, all that demands a 
 steady attention fatigues her. The inclination for 
 pleasure, which is strong during youth, the example 
 of persons of the same age, who are immersed in 
 dissipation, all serve to make her fear a regulated 
 and occupied life. In this early stage she wants ex- 
 perience and authority to manage any thing in the 
 house of her parents, and knows not even the im- 
 portance of application ; particularly if her mother 
 has not taken care to make her remark things in de- 
 tail. If she is of distinction, being exempt from 
 manual labour, she will sew a few hours in the day, 
 because it is said, without knowing why, that it is 
 proper for women to do so; but this is often only 
 a feint, and she will not accustom herself to steady 
 occupation. 
 
 " In this situation, what will she do ? The com» 
 pany of a mother, who watches her, chides her, and 
 believes that to bring her up properly she should 
 pardon nothing — who makes her bear all her ca- 
 prices, and always appears overwhelmed with domes- 
 tic cares, constrains and discourages her. She is 
 surrounded by flattering women, who, seeking to in- 
 sinuate themselves by base and dangerous complai- 
 sance, obey all her caprices, and instruct her in all 
 which can render her disgusted with propriety : 
 while piety appears to her a tiresome occupation, 
 
220 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 
 
 and a confirmed enemy to all pleasure. In what^ 
 then, will she employ herself? In nothing useful. 
 And thus inapplication becomes itself an incurable 
 habit. "^ 
 
 Women are formed for sedentary life ; it is at 
 home that tbev find true happiness ; the wisest in- 
 cessantlv repeat this truth. Yet experience, that 
 school of maxims, also teaches us that ennui drives 
 happiness even from the abode which should be its 
 dearest asylum, and often leads women imprudently 
 to believe that they will regain it abroad. Why do 
 we see so many more vvell-manDged houses among 
 people constantly engaged in anxious occupations ? 
 It is because ennui never takes a seat between the 
 husband and wife ; that they never reserve a place 
 for it at their family repast, that moment of repose 
 and enjoyment to people of the lower classes. Form 
 the judgment of women, that they may be usefully 
 consulted on the interests of the family, and may 
 Inow how to appreciate the education, the great 
 works, and valorous exploits of their husbands j to 
 acknowledge their just superiority; to satisfy them 
 by their spirit of order, charm them by their sweet< 
 ness, and know how to amuse them by their accom- 
 plishments. Let the purity of their religion, morals 
 and modesty, be certain pledges of constancy and 
 honesty ; and then the power and happiness of wo- 
 men will not be solely owing to the fleeting attrac- 
 tions of youth and beauty. What husband, attracted 
 by so many good qualities and charms, can seek 
 abroad for amusements which never equal the charm 
 of his own home ? This image of a woman, formed 
 
 • Fenelon De I'Edacation des filles. 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 221 
 
 for her own happiness, and that of all who belong to 
 her, is here traced as a nnodel which all sensible and 
 enlightened mothers should hold up to their daugh- 
 ters. 
 
 How, without injuring the health of a young per- 
 son, can we instruct her perfectly in her religion, 
 form her judgment, and unite several perfectly-ac- 
 quired talents to a solid education ? I repeat, by a 
 judicious division of the various things taught, and 
 by the proper employment of time. 
 
 The true pronunciation and familiar idioms of a 
 foreign language can only be learnt from a native. 
 At the age of five years, the young prrson whom I 
 have already quoted had an English nurse j some of 
 her relations wishing her to learn German, six years 
 afterwards they sent to Berlin for a German fe.jiale, 
 who was charged with waiting on her, and teaching 
 her the language. Acquired by speech alone, these 
 two languages were afterwards taught by rules, and 
 the reading of their best authors j and time did all 
 the rest. Regularly retiring at ten o'clock, and 
 rising at six, the day of a young girl is composed of 
 sixteen hours ; five hours given to rising, the toilette, 
 meals and recreations, there remain eleven to be em- 
 ployed in different studies. The holidays of Sunday 
 and Thursday are indispensable in an education thus 
 precisely cultivated. 
 
 Method, and the regular employment of time, are 
 not the only advantages possessed by public over 
 maternal education. A valuable emulation reigns ia 
 schools, which cannot be introduced into private edu- 
 cation without fear of changing the nature of it. In 
 a class, it is always accompanied by a generous sen 
 
 U 
 
222 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 
 
 timent j in a family it produces only rivalries, jea- 
 lousy, and sometimts hatred. 
 
 Self-love is the only sentiment awakened in classes 
 by the rewards or punishments distributed by the 
 mistress ; the praises, reproaches, aud ehidings of a 
 mother who instructs several children, excite, in less 
 enlightened minds, a secret jealousy of that maternal 
 tenderness on which their future so much depends. 
 Children rarely see the cause of their faults, an4r al- 
 ways seek that of their disgrace in unjust preposses- 
 sions. 
 
 Amongst a great number of young girls, who are 
 on a par in the degree of their instruction, several 
 are found of the same age ; free from all troublesome 
 rivalrv, they yet contend, and are solely occupied 
 with the desire of arriving first at the desired point. 
 
 In a family, the different ages and incompetent 
 methods, give not the same causes for emulation, 
 and furnish not to the parents such exact points of 
 comparison. 
 
 In a class, young girls admire and cherish their 
 rivals ; in the paternal mansion, there are none who 
 experience not the first sentiments of that jealousy, 
 of which their sex is so susceptible. If a v/ell-in- 
 formed and amiable young person is quoted to them, 
 if this model of perfection, with which they are con- 
 tinually teazed, offers the least scope for criticism, 
 it is seized with eagerness, and the most troublesome 
 disposition of the mind takes the place of a noble 
 and generous sentiment. 
 
 Let the resource of emulation, therefore, be left 
 where it will produce the most happy results ; but 
 let regular methods for the employment of time be 
 observed in private as in public education. Let the 
 
rilOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. tl23 
 
 same hours bring the same duties, as strictly as if the 
 clock struck the entrance and exit of the classes, 
 their recreations, and recal to occupation, 
 
 SECT. XI. 
 
 The study of sacred history should be the first in 
 order ; it for ever imprints epochs and eras on the 
 memory ; it traces the line of chronology to its ori- 
 gin, and thereby gives children an idea of universal 
 history. 
 
 Why make the world commence with Romulus 
 or Pharamond ? We should commence with God, 
 who created this world. 
 
 To favour justness of conception— to the lessons of 
 sacred history we should join the first notions of geo- 
 graphy. The best way is this : make use of a globe 
 of a sufficiently large diameter j the world there 
 presents itself under the form in which we acknow- 
 ledge it; whereas the two great circles of the map 
 placed close together, are not intelligible to very- 
 young childreti. Oo the globe we should first show 
 them the spot on which God placed the first man, 
 the division which the sons of Noah made between 
 them J then turning to the maps in the Atlas of the 
 Bible of Sacy, or those of the Abbe Lescui, we 
 should trace the march of the Israelites, and the es- 
 tablishment of their tribes. In like manner, we should 
 follow the mission of Jesus Christ upon the earth ; 
 nothing is more interesting than to see a child thus 
 explain as the first lessons of history, these primitive 
 foundations of our religion. 
 
 When the divisions of the globe have become fa- 
 miliar to the pupil, make it understood that the four 
 quarters of the world, drawn on separate maps, are 
 
'224: TKOUGMTS ON ZDUCATIQN. 
 
 SO only to render them more easy to be studied in 
 detail. 
 
 Europe should be £rst taught, with care. We 
 should commence by making them acquainted with 
 France ; with the help of a good Geographical Dic- 
 tionary, composing for thtm a journey through the 
 French territories. The child follows with a wand 
 the route of this journey, stopping at towns, telling 
 iheir topographical situation, monuments ancf es- 
 tablishments, the names of celebrated men whose 
 birth-place they are, and their particular productions, 
 commerce, and industry. This minute geography 
 much amuses the pupils, and I have met in the 
 world with females, who still remember the pleasure 
 they had in my youthful classes, in saying, that 
 Rouen produced the best apple-jellies, and Verdun 
 the best sugar-plums. 
 
 For the comprehension of history, and for present 
 utility, France should afterwards be taught, by pro- 
 vinces and departments j the pupil, with a small 
 wand, alternately designates and explains the rela- 
 tion of departments with provinces. The use of se- 
 parate sheet maps, placed on a desk during the les- 
 sons, is preferable to that of an adas. Dissected 
 maps are only an ingenious plaything ; children very 
 quickly seize the pieces formed to unite, and com- 
 pose the whole of them, like dissected engravings ; 
 fcilowing only that which the sight indicates, and 
 wiihout deriving from it any solid instruction. 
 
 SECT. XII. 
 
 The first part of grammar should be taught by 
 making children learn the verbs by heart. Occa- 
 sionally , Ussoos which successively illustrate acquire 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 225 
 
 rules, are preferable to those which are taken from a 
 book. We may easily compose these examples ; a 
 useful maxim, a moral precept, contained in a small 
 compass, will double the utility of these lessons. A 
 book, from which only a single page a day is writ- 
 ten, however well chosen, will not serve for the in- 
 struction of children ; they are too volatile to join a 
 thread so often interrupted. Faults should be cor- 
 rected by explaining in what they depart from given 
 rules ; each lesson should occupy two days, and 
 when six of them in illustration of the rules have 
 been completed, they should be recommenced. 
 
 SECT. XIII. 
 
 Ought talents to be given to women ? This ques- 
 tion alone has caused a great number of writings, 
 discussions and criticisms, and is not yet properly 
 settled. However extended may be the education 
 of your daughters, if their judgment be proportion- 
 ately cultivated, there is nothing to fear ; and even 
 when they have perfected any one of their talents to 
 a degree meriting celebrity, fear nothing, if you have 
 taught them, at the same time, how much it costs to 
 be celebrated. 
 
 Accomplishments spread a great charm over life; 
 they animate solitude, complete happiness, and con- 
 sole grief; but it is at home that they become useful, 
 and charming ; elsewhere they may become danger- 
 ous. Yet you may say, will a decayed gentlewo- 
 man, who has no resource bat in her talents, be to 
 blame if she seeks a profitable celebrity ? If accom- 
 plishments are the ornamen-s of the rich, they are 
 the riches of ihe prsor. The situation of this female 
 has changed, and that which she knows, becomes a 
 
22G THOUGHTS ON EDUCATIGI?. 
 
 laudable resource j but she should always respect 
 decorum ; and if she possesses true talents, she will 
 know how to render them known, without having re- 
 course to an inconvenient publicity. 
 
 For myself, I should make a powerful objection 
 to the cultivation of the arts. I think I have re- 
 marked, that they destroy the development of 
 thought ; the prodigious time w^hjch they demand 
 to acquire them, is doubtless the cause. The en- 
 thusiasm which they inspire, also, often exalts a 
 young imagination, and in females this is not the 
 least hurtful result. It is the duty of a wise mother 
 to calculate their effects as they are produced ; she 
 should guide the inclinations of her pupil, sometimes 
 towards reflective studies, which calm, while they 
 direct the vague and rapid flight of thought; and 
 sometimes she should employ her daughter in more 
 amusing labours ; for excess of austerity is also to 
 be feared. 
 
 The subdivision of time in the several occupations 
 of children, merits, in general, a daily and continual 
 attention ; it is by that we obtain harmony in the 
 whole of an education. I would have a young girl, 
 accustomed to pass from her dancing lesson to the 
 cares of the house, to handle alternately, and with 
 equal pleasure, the needle, and the pencil; but I 
 would, above all, banish from the mind of a mother, 
 the foolish and dangerous self-love which makes her 
 lavish praises on her children. It is there that the 
 wisest of mothers fail, for the snare is placed by ma- 
 ternal tenderness. Of what use are their efforts to 
 form young girls for domestic cares, if it is for a^ 
 gavotte or a rondo that they receive their applauses? 
 How will the pupil comprehend that all her pride 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 227 
 
 should one day repose on the well-filled duties of an 
 economical wife, an industrious mother, when re- 
 wards, caresses and praises are lavishrd upon the 
 slightest success in the arts? when drawings, either 
 mediocre or finished by her master, are displayed 
 with admiration to the eyes of her parents and 
 friends ? 
 
 The study of the amusing arts, notwithstanding, 
 requires some emulation. Let it be given in the 
 family ; let relations and some of those friends who, 
 for the charm of private life, always augment the 
 number, be rendered, several times in the year, judges 
 of the progress of a young girl sufficiently happy to 
 recognise the world in an intimate circle. Expose 
 not this young and modest flower to the notice of 
 numerous assemblies. 
 
 It is very easy for a mother to cause to be said, 
 by the parties who compose her small and chosen 
 circle, that which she thinks of the progress or ne- 
 glect of her daughter in the cultivation of her talents ; 
 this judgment, mingled with just compliments, will 
 be of the greatest use to her in private education. 
 Indiscriminate praises can only have bad results ; a 
 girl brought up alone, or with her sisters, however 
 little she may be praised, soon thinks herself a pro- 
 digy. She has not near her any point of comparison 
 which can enlighten her, as to her true merit : those 
 who surround her praise her ; how can she help be- 
 lieving them ? To remedy this inconvenience, you 
 will, perhaps, think of uniting your pupil to some 
 girls of her own age, and make them contend with 
 each other. Leave, I repeat, to public education the 
 means which are peculiar to it; emulation is there 
 useful and powerful ; elsewhere you will obtain only 
 
228 THOUGHTS ON' EDUCATION-. 
 
 rivalry and jealousy. Educated by her mother, a 
 girl should study to please her, and rejoice when she 
 succeeds ; this stimulus alone, when well managed, 
 produces great results. 
 
 SECT. XIV. 
 
 Children's balls are in fashion, and fashion is a 
 monarch ; it is therefore only to some prudent mo- 
 thers that I would indicate the danger of them. 
 
 In education nothing should be hastened, even in 
 the most essential things. Should we hasten to in- 
 spire the desire of pleasing by figure^ dancing and 
 the toilette, in children who have so little need of 
 display to amuse them ? Must they be prematurely 
 introduced into brilliant circles where they contract 
 vices ? Should a simple amusement render the toilette 
 of a young girl an object of elegant consideration r 
 3Ioiher5 deceive themselves in the cares which they 
 thus prematurely cultivate, and mistake their vanity 
 for maternal tenderness. 
 
 Besides, who knows whether some young dancer 
 mav not address to his partner those flattering 
 speeches, of which she ought to be ignorant, until 
 she can appreciate them r Do we believe that pas- 
 sions are so very tardy in developing themselves in 
 men ? I have seen a duel engaged in by two rivals 
 of fourteen years of age, for a beauty of twelve. And 
 this same event, which is often occasioned by meet- 
 ings of children of the two sexes, has furnished ma- 
 dame de Genlis with the subject of one of the come- 
 dies of her charming * Theatre d'Education.' 
 
 Accomplisriments shoulu not form the basis of the 
 education of girls ; but the first lessons in dancing 
 and the piano should be given at about the age of 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 229 
 
 seven years. Youthful limbs can place themselves 
 more easily according to rules, which add to the 
 graceful embellishments, and render them so natural, 
 that the fruit of lessons can no longer be distinguish- 
 ed : it is also very certain that the development and 
 health of children gain much, when they contract in 
 good time the habit of holding themselves up, and 
 walking gracefully. 
 
 The piano-forte requires a long and painful me- 
 chanical study ; this study is well adapted to an age 
 in which the judgment cannot be employed in more 
 useful occupations. The pliant fingers of childhood 
 accommodate themselves to this exercise ; more ad- 
 vanced, they acquire a rigidity which refuses to do 
 so. All persons who have a true knowledge of this 
 instrument, have begun to take lessons at the earliest 
 age ; yet, I have remarked, that it is proper to wait 
 until the hand can nearly reach an octave on the 
 keys, without which, children contract the habit of 
 making their hand spring forward, which they get 
 rid of with great difficulty. 
 
 We now possess fixed and excellent methods for 
 the instruction of the piano-forte. The rules for 
 fingering are no longer uncertain, as they were thirty- 
 years ago, before the school of the Conservatoire of 
 Paris, where almost all celebrated professors are 
 formed. 1 he instructions of M. Adam, and other 
 works founded on the same rules, are generally 
 adopted ; and a pupil, in changing her master, is no 
 longer exposed, as formerly, to the necessity of aban- 
 doning habifs already contracted, to re-commence 
 the study of fingering of another master. 
 
 We should not require children to study princi- 
 ples alone, which would be fastidious even to a rea- 
 
230 THOUGHTS OK EDUCATION. 
 
 sonable person ; they cannot study willingly unt;: 
 they begin to know some airs which please them, 
 and attach them to it. During the first year, they 
 should have a lesson every day ; these lessons need 
 be repeated only three times a week, when the pupil 
 has advanced a little. The hour of instruction ought 
 to be Hxed like that of a lesson, and the mother 
 should be present ; for in attention consists all the 
 utility. 
 
 To play at sight is the desired point in music. 
 We possess but an imperfect talent, when memory 
 alone places under our fingers some very difficult 
 and brilliant sonatas, es^'cuted without that feeling 
 which forms the perfect knowledge of harmony. 
 Yet we should not cause the sonata or rondo, already 
 learnt, to be suddenly abandoned : it is not only 
 agreeable to the parents, but it is useful to the scho- 
 lar, to have always (to make use of a technical ex- 
 pression,) one or two pieces under the fingers, which 
 she can play. Without boasting of the talent of her 
 daughter, a mother should accustom her to play as 
 soon as she is asked, in the presence of friends capa- 
 ble of entering into the views of parents by applaud- 
 ing the happy results of study? without lavishing 
 those eulogies which arouse sell-love. To tremble 
 through timidity, is to deprive yourself of all power 
 in a species of accomplishment in which the hand re- 
 quires to be unagitated by any impression of the 
 nerves. We should ver)' early conquer this trouble- 
 some habit, and prevent the return of it. I have 
 known young persons seized with such timidity 
 at the age in which reflection developes self-love, 
 that after charming society by the display of a very 
 fine talent, they have suddenly lost the power of 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 231 
 
 playing before any person. The position of the 
 hands in playing the harp renders the trrmbling still 
 more probable and troubleson^e than on the piano. In 
 singing, the inconvenience is stiil worse ; the first 
 effect of fear is to alter, by confining, the organs of 
 the voice. The habit of playing on the piano, at the 
 first invitation of a mother, also prevents that mania 
 of bad taste, which consists in causing yourself to be 
 assailed with repeated entreaties, so fatiguing in ge- 
 neral to those who take the trouble to make them, 
 that the pleasure they receive very seldom repays 
 the ennui and impatience of a too prolonged atten- 
 tion. 
 
 The numerous hours that a young girl employs in 
 the study of an instrument would be much to be re- 
 gretted, if they aid not procure for her a genuine 
 talent for life. Nature often refuses organs favour- 
 able to the art of music, but she rarely distributes 
 these gifts by halves, and we may be certain that the 
 little girl who sings correctly the air of the day, and 
 has already some agreeable tones in her voice, is per- 
 fectly organised for its acquirement. It is evident 
 that her ear is just, since she retains a series of va- 
 ried tones, and that she has the proper organ, since 
 she can repeat them. The ear may sometimes be 
 just, without the voice being yet developed, and that 
 is sufficient. Children themselves shew the degree 
 of their musical organisation by the greater or less 
 eagerness with which they listen to instruments, or 
 dance, or march in time, when they hear country 
 dances or marches played. 
 
 Why should we make a musician of a child, when 
 we have not remarked in her any of these evident 
 signs ? Other accomplishments may replace with 
 
23£ THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 
 
 advantage that for which nature has not fitted her ; 
 and in every thing we should submit to her laws, 
 and not comply too easily with the desires which 
 children express. "^ 
 
 We hear it said every day, that a young person, 
 as soon as she is married, shuts her piano, which be- 
 comes merely a useless piece of furniture ; that is 
 true, when it recals only the melmcholy recollection 
 of a culture without fruit. If, by means of repeated 
 lessons, severe chiding and tears, she is able to play 
 some sonatas, which have never contributed to her 
 pleasure, nor that of others, is it not very natural 
 that she should free herself from this constraint, as 
 soon as she can follow her inclination ? When a 
 young woman, at the time of her marriage, can ac- 
 company herself at sight, and after singing a seleC" 
 tion of agreeable airs, can transform her piano into 
 an orchestra, she animates the gaiety of a well-as- 
 sorted union ; at the same time, her talent will con- 
 tinually procure her the means of occupying and 
 pleasing herself, and most certainly, she will not ne- 
 glect it. 
 
 SECT. XV. 
 If you cause your pupil to contract early the habit 
 of occupying herself with domestic arrangements, if 
 
 * I will observe, on this subject, that when we wish children to learn 
 many things, we shonld practice the art of making them ask for the roas- 
 ters whom th -y drs.pe to have ; an<l whf n they deraaml them, we should 
 say that we only coMsent, on condition that they promise to persevere 
 in the new study which they have chosen ; because, there is weakness, 
 and cor.sequentiy shame, in renouncing a thing which they vohintarily 
 undertake-. Without this kind of artifice, children, to whom we wish 
 to give a v/ry extensive instruciion, wdi find themselves ove-loaded with 
 studies, and will regir-l rh-m with tnucli disgust. There i* no oecasiorx 
 tor this sti'atageia in olijec-.s or inswuction which are absolutely necessa- 
 ry, or considered >o, hs Lain f'l'- inen, history, geogra; hy, &cc. ; but it 
 must be empk-vt-d in hH things in which it is not shameful to be iguo- 
 I'ant. (Lecons d'une Governante a seseleves. ) 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 233 
 
 you inspire her with a taste for country affairs, she 
 will cultivate private life, and will be preserved from 
 the too common fault among women of fortune, 
 that of appreciating a house merely by the beauty of 
 a drawing-room, or the elegance of a boudoir, and 
 gardens by the good taste of gay pavilions and ar- 
 bours, where ennui nevertheless quickly assails thenio 
 
 We should risk rendering the instruction of a 
 young girl nugatory, if an orderly and continually 
 observed method did not make the hours, destined 
 for the care of the household, regularly succeed 
 those devoted to sedentary studies and lessons j let 
 every thing have its stated time, and we shall find 
 time to attend to every thing. 
 
 Habits are to be feared ; we are accustomed to be 
 prodigal, as well as economical ; it is therefore, indis- 
 pensable to carefully teach a girl the value and use 
 of money, before we repose in her sufficient confi- 
 dence to trust to her the expenses of he'r maintenance. 
 For one or two years we should make her add up 
 the articles of her expense ; after which, let her 
 reckon, and distribute herself the sums destined for 
 their discharge. 
 
 Reflections often arise from that which meets the 
 eye j and without having a love for money, its prompt 
 dispersion causes a sort of regret and inspires the 
 desire of sparing it. Let not a mother fear to ren- 
 der her child avaricious ; this vice belongs not to 
 this age, which generally gives way to prodigality. 
 Wants are so multiplied, industry is so employed, 
 that under a thousand seducing forms superfluity 
 takes the form of necessity. A young woman, oil 
 entiering the world, ought incessantly to repress her 
 desires by the precious habit of cconomv. it is par- 
 X 
 
234 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 
 
 ticularly essential to trust a girl to pay herself the 
 different masters who attend her ; she will then 
 better appreciate the expenses of her education, and 
 will feel the necessity of profiting by them : and 
 every thing which exercises the judgment, forms it. 
 Lessons of economy are too often confined to vague 
 recommendations to be sparing, and to reiterated 
 complaints of excessive expense, which never fail to 
 teaze youth without forming it. It is one of those 
 things in which proofs are every thing, principles 
 nothing. How important it is for girls to learn from 
 their mother how great a share women may have in 
 the preservation or ruin of the fortune of their fa- 
 mily ! and that they should know from her that the 
 division of duty between man and wife gives to one 
 the care of acquiring, and to the other that of pre- 
 serving. 
 
 The epoch of the first communion doubtless leaves 
 salutary impressions ; but a mother will be much de- 
 ceived if she is ignorant that every step towards the 
 perfection of reason is accompanied by new tenden- 
 cies to folly. She ought to expect this, and follow 
 the development with patient attention. 
 
 SECT. XVI. 
 
 The best ed ucated and handsomest little girl, ar- 
 rived at the age of twelve years, will pass over a 
 space of four years, during which, her graces, her 
 mien, and even her features, will lose a great part of 
 their charms. Her growth, however regular it may 
 be, will produce restlessness, — ^^and the most false rea- 
 sonings will take place of her childish docility. 
 
 During the course of these four years, a mo^er 
 will remark in her daughter the dawnings of a desire 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 23.> 
 
 to please ; she will imitate all which her unformed 
 taste will represent to her as agreeable. If one of 
 her companions, older by two or three years than 
 herself, and who has obtained seme notice in the 
 world, has the misfortune to lisp, she will do the 
 same ; if a woman, quoted for her acquirements, has 
 any fault in her gait or carriage, she will imitate this 
 natural imperfection, and fancy that she has acquired 
 one of her accomplishments. She will never fail to 
 follow the most ridiculous fashion. With patience 
 and mildness we must make her blush at aii these 
 errors ; and above all, alv/ays prevent her from al- 
 tering her voice or pronunciation. Nothing gives 
 stronger prepossessions against the character of a 
 woman than a lisping and affected speech, by which 
 she at once announces the ridiculous and constant ef- 
 forts which she makes to please, in disguising her 
 natural v oice. A correct pronunciation, a choice of 
 pleasing expressions, form the greatest charm of con- 
 versation. Happy are they, who to these can unite 
 wit, address and taste, without ever preferring them 
 to nature ! 
 
 This is an age of impertinent repartees, even to- 
 wards the most respected persons. These repar- 
 tees often partake of a vivacity of mind which reason 
 has not yet conquered. When they are not accom- 
 panied by traits of malignity, they need give no un- 
 easiness with regard to goodness of heart. These 
 light inequalities will disappear with the desire of 
 pleasing, and the need of being lov^ed. 
 
 Great care should be taken to prevent girls from 
 reading romances at an age when the judgment is 
 not yet formed, and the first ideas are excited by 
 vague sensations ; a mother should have courage to 
 
236 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 
 
 renounce it herself. I say courage, because there 
 exist many which she may regret not reading ; but 
 would she not have much more to regret, if she 
 preserved not her daughter from the attraction of 
 this reading, which may sometimes, without danger, 
 charm the leisure of a formed mind, whilst it conveys 
 the most melancholy disease to the ideas aad mental 
 formation of a young person r A mother should 
 therefore totally forbid this kind of reading. Should 
 she say to a girl of fourteen, there are your books, 
 and here are mine; what inconveniences would pro- 
 ceed from such a division ! 
 
 Can we flatter ourselves with making a girl read 
 with interest the history of Greece and Rome, with 
 placing the less brilliant facts of modern history in 
 her memory, if she can find a thousand times greater 
 pleasure in reading Mathilde in the Desert, Corinne 
 in Italv, and the Heroines of Walter Scott, in the 
 ISIoantains of Scotland ? These works have not only 
 this inconvenience, that we must forbid the reading 
 of them J they have the additional danger of moving 
 the heart and mind, by sentiments produced from the 
 power of love, by thwarted inclinations and imagi- 
 nary events, which the talent of the author envelopes 
 with a deceitful appearance of truth. The necessity 
 of producing great effects, constrains romance wri- 
 ters to overcharge the description of vice and virtue* 
 Like a false map of geography, those productions, 
 instead of guiding, mislead the first steps of a young 
 girl. Shall we say that there aie romances, the mo- 
 rals of which are so pure that they may be read with- 
 out danger ; in which vice is always punished, and 
 "virtue rewarded ; in which we contemplate fine and 
 noble characters ? Argjuments favourable to this 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. £37 
 
 kind of reading are supported on errors j love is 
 never banished from it: all the favoured lovers are 
 handsome, brave, sincere, and faithful. So seducing 
 a picture strikes the imagination of a 3'oung girl j 
 from this moment she seeks in the world the chime- 
 rical image of the heroes whose adventures she has 
 read ; and if, which happens but too often, the hus- 
 band destined for her offers no resemblance to this 
 cherished image, it also too often happens that when 
 married, she is so unfortunate as still to seek it. 
 
 Romance reading has further the inconvenience of 
 exalting sensibility* To prevent so precious a gift 
 of nature from becoming hurtful to happiness, sensi- 
 bility should be formed vvith judgment, otherwise 
 every thing is carried to the extreme ; we no longer 
 appreciate, we admire; no longer approve, bat boast; 
 no longer love, but adore ; the most common events 
 appear instances of strange good fortune, or of a 
 dreadful calamity. 
 
 True sensibility is allied to goodness and com- 
 passion, and thus enters the region of the heart ; ex- 
 aggerated, it belongs to that of imagination ; it will 
 lead a young girl of fourteen to confound expres- 
 sions of filial tenderness with those of a sentiment 
 v;hich her heart anticipates. This unnatural sensi- 
 bility misleads women on the most holy points of 
 pious duties ; they pass the bounds prescribed to 
 their sex in all which relates to the Catechism ; we 
 have seen some, whose exalted minds borrowed the 
 forms of a lively eloquence, and who seemed to wish 
 to unite the government of religious ideas to the 
 power of their charms. Was it not a woman who 
 drew on Fenelon the thunders of the church ? If 
 sensibility, directed by imagination alone, could prc^ 
 
238 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 
 
 duce similar errors, with what care should a mother 
 forbid her daughter the reading of works in which 
 piety, respectable in its principle, is lost in the lan- 
 guage of mystification? Immutable and sublime 
 truths lose nothing by simplicity of expression ; their 
 triumph is in touching the heart and astonishing the 
 reason ; to embellish is to weaken them. 
 
 SECT. XVII. 
 
 I write for the world, and in the hope of being 
 useful to it ; I will not be more severe than it is it- 
 self, I even believe that moral health is better pro- 
 moted by a degree of prudence, wisely combined, 
 than by severity without reflection. 
 
 The soul is formed, nourished, and grows like the 
 body ; different lessons of morality should, therefore, 
 be given to it in proportion as it becomes capable of 
 receiving them. 
 
 After forbidding a girl to read any sort of romances, 
 at eighteen years of age her principles being consoli- 
 dated, I would have her mother make her read some 
 of those works which depict our great errors and 
 misfortunes. 
 
 A mother, before she marries her daughter, should 
 conduct her into the world, make her acquainted 
 with its pleasures, and study to render her politeness 
 benevolent. 
 
 Let her accustom herself to listen with interest, 
 to speak little, and to reply with grace. A young 
 person should be full of rep:ard to elderly females, 
 amiable to the young, equally polite to all men, but 
 more occupied with those of mature age. Young 
 people are npt to discern the effect which their pre- 
 sence produces ; it is their most habitual study ; em- 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. X' 39 
 
 barrassment and blushing evince it no less thatisim^ 
 pering and artificial gaiety. A calm and polite ease 
 keeps them within the bounds of respect much more 
 than affected prudery. 
 
 It is not of men alone, but very much of them- 
 selves, that young girls should be made afraid. If 
 you represent all men to them as perfidious, ungrate- 
 ful monsters, and some young man discovers to them 
 a pure and regulated mind, they will immediately be 
 smitten by this phcenix ; make them rather fear their 
 own weakness ; teach them that the forgetfulness of 
 modesty may, in a single instant, lower them in the 
 eyes of men ; that they are generally distrustful of 
 the virtues of our sex ; that they incessantly study 
 the impression which their presence may make on our 
 senses ; and that to obtain their esteem, we must 
 know how to govern the impression. 
 
 Let the dress of a girl be simple, but very precise 5 
 propriety should be its greatest ornament, and the 
 good taste of her mother will keep extravagant and 
 transient fashions from her toilette. 
 
 The day after an evening passed in the world, 
 the conversation of a mother with her daughter 
 should consist of valuable lessons on the errors which 
 she has remarked, on faults v/hich she herself com- 
 mitted, as well as on all things which have justly 
 merited praise. 
 
 To praise the talents and accomplishments of 
 others, and to find pleasure in making them valued, 
 is the surest method of pleasing and being praised in 
 your turn. Praise, however, should wear a character 
 of modesty. An eulogium which should seem to 
 say, my superiority appreciates you, will wound as 
 much as indifference, or any air of criticism. In ge» 
 
240 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 
 
 neral, let a mother form her daughter to observe, 
 and not to criticise ; we make remarks to ourselves, 
 we criticise to others. 
 
 Honoured be the mother, who, in bringing up her 
 daughter, is not actuated by the sole desire of ren- 
 dering her fascinating, and who sees not exclusively 
 in the superiority of her talents a means of establish- 
 ing her! To forntt her judgment, and enlighten her 
 mind, is to secure a durable happiness. Accustomed 
 to place in the first class of her duties all those which 
 relate to piety, modesty, decorum, and useful know- 
 ledge, she will cherish her home, and cause order 
 and economy to reign there. To these qualities let 
 her unite knowledge without pedantry, talents with- 
 out pretension, and grace without affectation ; she 
 will then be wise without vanity, happy without wit- 
 nesses, content without admirers, and a good wife, 
 a good mistress of a house, and a good mother of a 
 family. 
 
OF PUBLIC EDUCATION. 
 
 SECT. I. 
 
 Education, that important subject, has not ceased, 
 at all times, and in all civilised countries, to rouse the 
 most sensible hearts, and to occupy the wisest govern- 
 ments ; yet, this so often debated subject seems still 
 undetermined. In France, opinions are almost as 
 divided on education, as on the best forms of govern- 
 ment. Some think that men separated from the 
 world, devoted wholly to their personal studies, aiid 
 finding no food for a praiseworthy ambition, but in 
 the progress of their pupils, are the only persons ca- 
 pable of educating youth : others maintain, that men 
 tried by the labours, pains, pleasures and dangers of 
 society, knowing all the duties of citizens, and all 
 the emotions of paternity, are more proper to instruct 
 and form youth. Sometimes we countenance classical 
 studies alone ; sometimes the disposition or views 
 cf^ chiefs of empires, lead them to give great en- 
 couragement to the arts and sciences ; sometimes we 
 aamit of accomplishments in the education of young 
 men ; sometimes we reprove them. Some say, that 
 to be wise, and consequently happy, men of the 
 lower classes have need of instruction ; that a culti- 
 vated judgment renders them more docile to the 
 voice of reason, more disposed to a reflective obe- 
 dience, which produces the sentiment of personal 
 dignity, love of their country, and respect for thp 
 
242 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 
 
 laws. Others deny all these ideas, and would coniine 
 education to a small number, and bound that of the 
 mass to the mere instruction of religion. When 
 questions so grave, and so much beyond my under- 
 standing on the education of men are still debated, 
 how can we wonder that the culture of women has 
 scarcely occupied the attention of governments ? 
 
 It is only within the last fifty years that any atten- 
 tion has been paid among us to the education of fe- 
 males ; the progress of this part of instruction was 
 not remarkable, until near the crisis of the French 
 revolution. Twenty-five years before this last epoch, 
 most girls passed no more than a year in a nvonas- 
 tery,. and this year was devoted to a profound study 
 of the Catechism, retirement and the first communion. 
 This retirement freed parents from the embarrass- 
 ment and inconvenience of conducting, or causing 
 them to be conducted, to the public Catechism of the 
 parishes ; but we had for a long time abandoned the 
 custom of leaving girls to the age of eighteen behind 
 the grates, whence they issued, without knowing how 
 to write two words of their own language. I fear 
 not being taxed with unjust prejudices against the 
 ancient education. On the table on which I am 
 writing, lies the discourse of the immortal Fenelon, 
 on the education of girls, and I there read these 
 lines: " Teach a girl to read and write correctly ; 
 it is shameful, but common, to see women who have 
 wit and politeness, unable to pronounce clearly tllat 
 which they read : they either bawl, or sing ; instead 
 of which they ought to read with a simple and natu- 
 ral, but firm and easy tone. They are moreover very 
 ignorant of orthography, and the manner of forming 
 and joining their letters in writing. Accustom them. 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 243 
 
 at least, to make their lines straight, to render their 
 characters neat and readable ; a girl should also be 
 acquainted with the grammar of her own language." 
 By the little which Fenelon requires, it is easy to 
 judge of the little that was known. Without vanity, 
 I believe I may flatter myself with having given more 
 variety and extent to instruction. 
 
 As to the sacred duties of religion, the efforts, 
 which, in the establishmt-nts confided to my care, 
 I have had the happiness to devote to this immuta- 
 ble basis of all virtues, confirm the sincerity of my 
 opinions. In 1795, in those unfortunate times in 
 which religion, the centre of all public morality, was 
 annihilated, the establishment that I formed in the 
 town of Saint-Germain consisted only of three pupils, 
 when I associated in my labours a nun of the order 
 of St. Thomas ; she was charged solely with the in- 
 struction of religion, whilst I gave my attention to 
 all the other branches of education. Some years af- 
 terwards, when a happier time restored to the French 
 the free exercise of their religion, I caused a chapel 
 to be built, and established an almoner to direct spi- 
 ritual instruction. My chapel was consecrated; 
 several bishops volunteered to officiate in it ; and as 
 the great duties of religion might there be fulfilled, 
 the pupils were no longer obliged to quit the pre- 
 cincts of the house. 
 
 SECT. II. 
 
 There are very few schools in which children are 
 well fed ; there are even some in which they are not 
 sufficiently so ; this is not merely a fault in the heads 
 "of these establishments, it is a crime. Purity of 
 blood, strength of body, and the future health and 
 
240 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 
 
 comfort of youth, are too often compromised by the 
 avarice or carelessness of teachers. 
 
 It is shameful to hear iDcessantly so many artless 
 complaints, on a point so essential. Scholars often 
 murmur at the sight of the loathsome food which is 
 served up to them, revolt in their refectories, and 
 become disorderly, through a cause which their su- 
 perior does not duly consider. Excellent bread, 
 good meat, and well-seasoned vegetables, served with 
 propriety, suffice to satisfy scholars. The appetite 
 of youth has not occasion for made dishes- Rich 
 parents would obtain particular attentions by paying 
 higher terms, which it should be the duty of masters 
 of schools to rei'use. The children of the rich should 
 proceed, without distaste, from the most sumptuous 
 table to that of their school ; and those who, at 
 home, are not accustomed to good living, should 
 not lose, at school, the habit of a sobriety conforma- 
 ble to the mediocrity of their fortune. The true, 
 the precious level of equality should prevail in 
 schools ; there, alone, society admits of it. At the 
 table of a school, the children of a peer of France, 
 and those of its farmers, should be equally treated. 
 The laws of society are not those of the school ; 
 scholars acknowledge no other superiority than that 
 which is the fruit of exertion. Why engender pride 
 or envy in their hearts r The study of history will 
 teach them the high price attached to valour and 
 eminent talents ; the world will acquaint them with 
 the personal or hereditary advantages which will 
 form their just recompense ; they will know how to 
 arrive at them, or to submit to see them possessed 
 by others. Bat it is dangerous to make minds ex- 
 perience the consequences of these political distinc- 
 
THOUGHTS OiN EDUCATION'. 241 
 
 tions, which are not yet enlightened by the knowledge 
 of the laws of society. In early youth, as in the 
 primary years of life, these impressions are deep 
 and often resist the power of reason. We are assur- 
 ed that people who have signalised themselves, in 
 the most melancholy manner, at the bloody epoch of 
 our revolution, revenged their school affronts while 
 boursierst^ in great Parisian colleges, because des- 
 serts were granted only to boarders paying for them ; 
 and that the mere sight of fruit, given to the son of a 
 nobleman, whose exercise or translation they have 
 written, to save him from the most shameful punish- 
 ment, kindled in their hearts the first sentiments of a 
 hatred which the injustice of the world increased, 
 and carried to the most criminal excess. 
 
 However this may be,— without fear of being de- 
 ceived, parents may consult and listen to the children 
 themselves, on the article of food. They are sin- 
 cere, when they live united ; their judgments are 
 equitable, and they are willing to do justice to 
 schools, where they are well treated. Parents should 
 not therefore require a preference for their children ; 
 but on this important article should complain loudly 
 for all ; their complaints then become more praise- 
 worthy and generous, and impose a more salutary 
 fear on the masters. 
 
 It is a blameable and dangerous custom to give 
 children money to spend in eatables. The choice of 
 provisions bought by servants, who think only of 
 how they can rob the scholars, is always bad ; and 
 these illicit repasts are also made at irregular and in- 
 jurious hours. Schools will always be badly or- 
 
 • Scholars that have pensions in colleges — or sei'vitors, 
 
 y 
 
242 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 
 
 gan'ised while such an abuse exists ; it introduces 
 gluttony and fraud. 
 
 If the health of a child requires a particular break- 
 fast, let the mistress of the house be charged by the 
 parents to procure it, and let her give it openly, as 
 following the order of a physician. A jelly, a cup 
 of chocolate, or a piece of fowl, will not then excite 
 more jealousy than a basin of barley water or asses 
 milk. If the child of a nobleman is endowed with a 
 strong constitution, we should be cautious of con- 
 senting to procure it these delicacies ; if the child 
 whose parents have only a small fortune, is in a state 
 of health which requires cares of this nature, let 
 them be furnished at the expense of the school. To 
 organise all which is capable of abuse, is the means 
 of making it disappear. 
 
 The expenses of great establishments for educa- 
 tion are considerable j the profit which estimable 
 masters derive from it is very small ; cares main- 
 tained for a great number of years, end in the at- 
 tainment only of a moderate fortune. 
 
 SECT. III. 
 
 Religion, morality, instruction, accomplishments, 
 
 and assiduous watchfulness, reiterated counsels on 
 all which relates to the character, studies and beha- 
 viour of pupils, compose the cares which should in- 
 cessantly occupy a good schoolmistress. 
 
 A regulation is not difficult to compose ; the dif- 
 ficulty is, to make it attended to, and, above all, to 
 maintain it. The great guiding rule of mistresses 
 ought to be the maintenance of all that ensures the 
 execution of a difficult system, which bends them 
 selves as well as their pupils, and of which experi- 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 243 
 
 ence alone, and their own sound discernment, may 
 successively demonstrate the utility. Frequent in- 
 spections, increasing attentions, and an indefatigable 
 perseverance, are remedies which should be opposed 
 to the inevitable inconvenience of relaxed attention. 
 The stronger the organisation, the easier the execu- 
 tion of a regulation becomes. 
 
 The writer of these remarks has undergone all the 
 experience which successively suggests the variety 
 of discipline indispensable in large assemblages of 
 children. Twenty-five pupils formed the school 
 which she established at Saint-Germain ; three 
 months after, she had fifty ; at the end of the year 
 she collected a hundred ; and concluded, by having 
 to direct the education of three hundred girls. At 
 her entrance into a new career, her zeal was unassisted 
 by experience. An unforeseen incideiic prescrlbci! 
 to her the necessity of making her pupils enter or re- 
 tire from the different pursuits in which they were 
 united, agreeably to an arrangement made, to pre- 
 vent the least confusion. At the termination of a 
 repast, some dancing dogs were admitted into the 
 court of the house ; the desire of seeing the childish 
 spectacle made them crowd towards the door ; a 
 young pupil fell ; the vivacity of youth prevented 
 them from noticing her ; several passed over her, 
 and wounded her grievously. From this moment 
 they walked two by two, and in time. At their en- 
 trance into chapel, the dining-room, and other places 
 of assembling, the scholars curtseyed at coming in 
 and going out. These reverences were not only of 
 use in calming their impetuosity, but contributed to 
 the uprightness and good carriage of the body. We 
 obviate many dangerous consequences by preventing 
 
-44 THOUGHTS ON ZDUCATION, 
 
 ^aces in the house ; let them be reserved for garden 
 musements. There prisoners base, and the ambi- 
 :on of first reaching a goal, are exercises as salutan,' 
 
 as useful to the development of youth, and as suitable 
 
 to young girls as to boys. 
 
 The sound of the bell equally calls mistresses and 
 
 •pupils to their duties. This bell, which regulates 
 sing, dressing, prayer, and the class entrance, is one 
 
 of the great advantages of public education j it sub- 
 
 'ects to the empire of necessity : and it is much 
 r have learnt how to be commanded. This method 
 ..ves all time lost in irregular preparations for pas- 
 :Dg from one duty to another, which should be 
 voided as much as possible. The bell, the hammer 
 nd the rattle, have important parts to play in public 
 iucation. That which saves words to the masters, 
 
 .— ,w«— — ri — ^' •«"**/ ^* 2 
 
 malice, and preserves more dignity to professors. In 
 free schools of the people, where the numbrr of mas- 
 ters is not proportioned to that of the scholars, the 
 •others of the Christian doctrine make use of a te- 
 - graphic instrument, which transmits various gene- 
 ?J orders. In a more extensive instruction, the 
 masters must speak but merely to teach ; the rest is 
 under the government of discipline. 
 
 The bell for rising should sound twice, at five mi- 
 .vjtes interval. This bell should ring three times in 
 ;he evening ; on entering the dormitory, undressing, 
 and five minutes after they are in bed. Evening 
 prayer should take place in the chapel, or in the re- 
 spective classes. The overseer of each bed-room 
 should have her bed elevated several feet, and placed 
 so that she can see all the beds of the schohirs. In 
 large establishments, it is well to make a servant 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 245 
 
 sleep near each bed-room in case of accident, to be 
 ready to give assistance in the night. 
 
 I insist, that a dormitory, to be well regulated, and 
 to obtain order and silence, should not contain more 
 than from five-and-twenty to thirty beds. If the el- 
 der pupils are together in chambers, let the number 
 of beds always be uneven, that a teacher may sleep 
 near them. 
 
 The hour of rising, from the 1st of April to the 
 1st of October, should be fixed at six ; from the 1st 
 of October to the 1st of April, at seven. Why make 
 girls rise with the light ? the day fully employed is 
 sufficient for all studies. To force young people to 
 follow customs which are not observed in the world, 
 is to give them naturally a pretence for disengaging 
 themselves from it sooner. In abusing an useful 
 habit, we may fall into the opposite extreme. 
 
 Every pupil ought to have her number on all 
 things destined for her use ; not only her linen should 
 bear the first letters of her name, and her number^ 
 but every thing belonging to her bed should be mark- 
 ed with her name at full length. Let this name, 
 written on a ribbon, be pasted on every article com- 
 posing her dress, in the crown of her hat, her gloves, 
 &c. &c. We should accustom girls never to use 
 any things but their own. We too often see women, 
 very indifferent to this delicacy, permit themselves 
 to borrow and make use of the apparel of others | 
 and we should prevent youth from contracting even 
 the least blameable habits. 
 
 In boarding-schools, the linen is generally chang- 
 ed on Friday or Saturday evenings. The person 
 charged with the care of it should place on the bed 
 of each pupil the linen intended for her. This iincB 
 
 y2 
 
246 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION, 
 
 should be confined by a stout strap of white tape, on 
 vhich the name and number of each scholar is 
 marked. A buckle of steel is attached to this strap, 
 which afterwards confines all the soiled linen, in its 
 turn ; and a minute is then sufficient for a servant, 
 famished with a basket, to remove, without confound- 
 ing it. A similar buckled strap should be given to 
 rach pupil to contain her towel, comb, brushes, &c. 
 
 Attentions to propriety of person cannot be too 
 multiplied. We should not allow the hair to grow 
 until after the twelfth year. In France, girls do not 
 generally attain any rank in society until their 
 eighteenth year ; and hair preserved with care for 
 six years, has then become its proper length j cut re- 
 gularly until the age of twelve; the roots become 
 stronger, and it is not so subject to come off on the 
 slightest attack of fever. In schools, we have some- 
 times great difficulty in prevailing on a mother to sa- 
 crifice a fine head of hair, cherished from the cradle, 
 but enlightened on a demonstrated fact ; they at last 
 consent, and propriety, on a most essential point, is 
 secured by this sacrifice. 
 
 The face, neck, hands, and feet should be paid the 
 greatest attention to. To a dormitory, of from 
 nve-and- twenty to thirty beds, there should be six 
 foot pans, and every morning the feet of six chil- 
 dren, according to their numbers, should be washed, 
 which secures them a foot bath ever)- five days, llie 
 hands and teeth should be washed every morning, 
 the face and neck in the evening, before retiring to 
 rest. The sudden impression of the air on the face 
 which has just been washed, is unfavourable to tbc 
 ikin. 
 
 After rising, prayer should be said in common. 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION, 247 
 
 the epistle and gospel read aloud ; as to the class 
 which can only spell or read with difficulty, one of 
 the elder class should be appointed every week to 
 perform this duty. 
 
 The class should be entered at ten o'clock ; writ- 
 ing, grammar, lessons in history and geography, oc- 
 cupy them until one o'clock ; drawing from one to 
 three ; dinner takes place at th;!t hour, and an hour 
 of recreation follows it. In the dining-room a scholar 
 should mount a pulpit, and repeat grace, and the 
 customary prayers ; a blow from a hammer, struck 
 by the overseer, makes all sit down, and prescribes 
 silence j dinner eaten, the pupil in the pulpit reads 
 the grace ; the reader is chosen from a number of 
 elder girls, made to attend to the service of the tables 
 and distribute the bread ; they should be served after 
 the others. Grace said, the pupils retire class by 
 class, at a signal which is given to them ; they cur- 
 tesy at the door, and should not quit their regular 
 walk until they reach the garden or their class. 
 
 Silence only can guarantee the means of teaching 
 many children together. A practice of the boarding- 
 schools of Geneva, which are generally esteemed^ 
 assists much to obtain silence in class and the refec- 
 tory. Mistresses should be furnished with a wooden 
 ruler, which they give to the first who articulates a 
 single word ; but she who receives it, has in her turn 
 the right of giving it to the next who disturbs order« 
 Recreation should occupy an hour ; the evening 
 should be employed in sewing, or in lessons of music, 
 Thursday the employment of the classes is suspend- 
 ed ; mstructions in accomplishments? rtrading and 
 sewing occupy this day j the recreations of which 
 should be longer« 
 
248 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATlOiN. 
 
 Discipliae should increase in proportion to the 
 number of scholars ; nothing ought to be neglected ; 
 the eye of the mistress should penetrate every where, 
 that regularity may be observed in the slightest af- 
 fairs. 
 
 Emulation forms the strength of public education ; 
 it there prevails in young minds, directs them to- 
 wards that which is right, and communicates no 
 stain to the generous sentiments of the heart and 
 soul ; there alone rivalry produces not jealousy, we 
 learn to rejoice in the happiness and glory of others, 
 and friendship redoubles our enjoyments. 
 
 Children incapable of being excited by emulation, 
 learn that rewards are the fruit of labour ; knowing 
 that they have done nothing to obtain it, they judge 
 themselves, and if their hearts have not experienced 
 generous emotions, it is seldom they are tainted with 
 the odious sentiment of envy. 
 
 Female boarding-schools have existed in England 
 since the reform of monasteries. They have set me 
 the example of establishing, every year, before the 
 holidays, an inspection made in the presence of the 
 parents of my pupils, and such friends as they choose 
 to bring with them. Books were the prizes given 
 for all works and accomplishments, dancing excepted. 
 Dancing appeared to me useful, for the ease, grace, 
 and dignity that it gives to the carriage, but I never 
 made its advantages consist in a perfection quite in- 
 compatible with the principles of a wise education. 
 The pupil who best made a shirt, was rewardt=d like 
 her who made the best drawing, or replied with the 
 greatest correctness to the questions of the masters 
 on history and geography. The study of literature 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 249 
 
 was confined to the knowledge of different kinds, in 
 which they exercised poetry and eloquence. 
 
 This assemblage, of more than a hundred young 
 girls, the beauty of some, and the interest which 
 they inspired in the midst of a quantity of works pro- 
 duced by their hands, and proving the useful employ- 
 ment of their time, formed almost too seducing a 
 sight. The inspections in my establishment termi- 
 nated by a concert, never by a ball. 
 
 A great number of girls' boarding-schools being 
 established in Paris, this competition excited rival- 
 ries, which, indeed, in some of these houses violated 
 the laws of good taste and good manners. They 
 raised stages, and crowned the pupils to the sound of 
 trumpets, instead of recompensing with the simple 
 gift of a book. Inspections, terminated by theatrical 
 representations, ballets were introduced, and inno- 
 cence appeared in the costume of opera dancers. In 
 the provinces this v,'as carried istill firrther ; and to 
 procure a name, mistresses of schools boasted of 
 salles de spectacle. The pages of journals were filled 
 with accounts of the inspections of girls' schools, 
 and all the cares which I took to preserve my estab- 
 lishment of Saint-Germain, from this publicity, were 
 ineffectual. 
 
 In 1807 government forbade this custom ; it did 
 well. For it had degenerated into abuse, and in es- 
 tablishments where decorum was respected, the spec- 
 tators of these touching scenes were not worthy to 
 be so, since they mistook the sentiments which ani* 
 mated young hearts filled with innocence. 
 
 The regulation of the imperial house of Ecouen, 
 established the privacy of ancient convents. The 
 princess protectress, and the high chancellor of the 
 
250 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 
 
 Legion of Honour could alone assist at the inspec- 
 tions, as judges of the progress of the pupils. They 
 gave no prize, the ambition of passing from an infe- 
 rior class to one more elevated ; the view of a pile of 
 sashes of different colours ready to be distributed, 
 were alone sufficient to excite their zeal, and make 
 all hearts palpitate. These examinations took place 
 four times a year, and the hope of advancement was 
 incessantly cherished. An engraven card, orna- 
 mented vi^ith a vignette, representing all the attributes 
 of study and labour, from the spindle to the pencil, 
 was the pledge of content as to the success of their 
 studies, and also carried contentment to the bosom 
 of families. 
 
 I was always pleased at seeing that privacy di- 
 minishes nothing of the most praiseworthy emula- 
 tion ; and that on judgment days the scholars expe- 
 rience the same emotions in the cloistered interior 
 of Ecouen, as* if their parents and friends were wit- 
 nesses to their triumph. To incline to the right way, 
 the happy purity of this age has no occasion for the 
 approval and suffrages of the world ; youth merits 
 the honour of dispensing with it as a judge. It was 
 there that I learned still more the power of a gene- 
 rous emulation. I have, however, met with syste- 
 matic people much opposed to these means ; and we 
 may, and ought to suppress them in private educa- 
 tion, where there is no concurrence, and where the 
 satisfaction of their parents should be the children's 
 only recompense. But in public education, emula- 
 tion is as necessary to the success of youth, as is the 
 influence of the sun to the productions of the earth. 
 
 It would be very wrong in schools to recompense 
 only superiority of instruction and talent. The most 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION?. 251 
 
 flattering and eminent reward should be reserved for 
 qualities which compose the social virtues. 
 
 Submission, mildness, order, propriety, maternal 
 attentions from the eldest pupils towards their young- 
 est companions, politeness and regard to their teach- 
 ers, and kindness to servants, composed the whole of 
 the good qualities required in my establishment of 
 Saint-Germain, to obtain the prize given to good 
 character. This prize was an artificial rose, worn on 
 Sundays and holidays, by the pupil who obtained it. 
 The number of votes which become necessary to pre- 
 vent this public homage, rendered to goodness and 
 sweetness, from being granted unjustly, appeared to 
 me to be as in the world the result of a general and 
 perfectly free opinion. I established a scrutiny to 
 obtain it. Four vases were placed on a table in the 
 midst of my eldest class ; the names of four candi- 
 dates, chosen from each class by the overseers and 
 teachers, were written on the vases j the ladies and 
 scholars who had already obtained the prize, brought 
 their votes, the directress had only the right of 
 choosing among the candidates namedr A servant 
 belonging to the children traversed the room, shewing 
 her white favour, and saying, " This is for her who 
 is good to those who serve her, who chides nobody, 
 and knows how to return thanks." 
 
 During the eight first years of the establishment 
 of this prize, it produced the happiest results in my 
 classes. This reward was given every three mouths. 
 The day after, I invited the former successful can- 
 didates, and the five new ones to a private breakfast. 
 When a pupil who entered the house very young 
 passed through the various classes, and obtained the 
 rose in all, the last was given to her in a porcelain 
 
252 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATIOX. 
 
 vase. The only ornament of this vase was the date 
 of the day on which she received it, written in letters 
 of gold. 
 
 No person was invited on the days on which I 
 gave the rose. Bat finally, parents became so anx- 
 ious for their daughters to obtain it before they left 
 school, that for the two or three last years, this ho- 
 liday became a day of grief, excitement mingled with 
 it ; at each nomination of the successful candidates, 
 tears and sobs were heard on all sides j they wept 
 at not having the desired majority. Friends united 
 their tears to the weeping and sobbing of the chil- 
 dren, and in one of these melancholy scenes, I had 
 the grief of seeing a young girl of sixteen faint away 
 on learning that she had lost the prize, and remain 
 thirty hours in the most alarming lethargy. 
 
 I felt that I must suppress, in this prize, a quality 
 which acted too highly on young hearts. In large as- 
 semblages, all which excites nervous emotions is 
 dangerous ; an involuntary imitation renders them 
 contagious. At this time I was appointed to super- 
 intend the Imperial House of Ecouen, and I was 
 careful not to transport thither my scrutiny and roses. 
 Pupils \^ho distinguished themselves by the same 
 union of good qualities, were simply named by the 
 ladies of twelve classes, and the reward, granted 
 twice a-year, was the plantation of a tree in the parkj 
 an inscription attached to each of these trees bore 
 the name of her who planted it, and the date of the 
 day on which she obtained that honour. 
 
 The greatest punishment to a pupil at Ecouen, was 
 the loss of her sash. The founder of this establish- 
 ment ordered that the scholar who should be guilty 
 of a serious wrong, should be thus degraded in the 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 2jo 
 
 middle of the court-yard, in the presence of all the 
 house. One only time I had to pronounce this pu- 
 nishment. The three hundred scholars, fifty ladies, 
 and the servants, formed a square in the interior 
 court of this fine gothic building ; the pupil was con- 
 ducted to the place in which the cross of the Legion 
 of Honour is drawn in pavement of black marble. I 
 arrived, and took off her sash ; I felt that she re- 
 quired support; her legs trembled, and she f'ainted 
 in my arms. 1 suppressed the ceremony which ren- 
 dered this punishment so grievous, — as I modified 
 the prize granted to character which had a too great 
 value attached to it. The eyes of spectators, when 
 there is a great number, possess an incalculable pow- 
 er. I have quoted these instances, to shew how the 
 wisdom of the instructress should manage the sensi- 
 bility of early age. They should be neither exalted 
 by reward, nor too much humbled by punishments. 
 
 The mosi general punishment at Saint-Germain, 
 as at Ecouen, was that of dining apart at a separate 
 table, which was called the wooden table, solely be- 
 cause it had no cloth. I never saw so simple a de- 
 nomination produce so great an effect. The scholar 
 punished, was served like the others, but she ate not, 
 and passed her dinner-time in tears. A ticket, 
 placed in a frame, indicated the fault which merited 
 this punishment. They were not condemned to it, 
 unless they had received twelve bad tickets in the 
 course of a month. Each bad ticket was composed 
 of twelve bad points. Good tickets led to advahcc'- 
 ment on the card of satisfaction. To put down faith- 
 fully the good and bad points, the teachers possessed 
 a little book, which they were never without. One 
 good point effaced two bad. The ladies were charg- 
 Z 
 
254 THOUGHTS OX EDUCATION. 
 
 ed to shew pupils their situation on the book twice 
 a-week. The first few days were always terribly 
 overcharged with bad points. Their eyes then 
 opened, and the following were retrieved by good 
 ones. The book taken out of the bag, and the 
 pencil prepared, produced as much impression as the 
 sight of the ancient ferula or hammer. For twenty 
 years I made use of this simple means to govern my 
 classes. In continually offering youth the means of 
 repairing their errors, we ar^ certain of inspiring 
 them with generous intention. I must observe, that 
 it requires an incessant attention and watchfulness, 
 to cause so simple a routine to be executed. Almost 
 all mistresses would rather chide and exclaim ; but 
 I found that silence and the sight of the book alone, 
 were of more effect than words. 
 
 Every week the scholars w^ere placed according to 
 to the extent of their knowledge of grammar. The 
 four who remained constantly at the head of their 
 study-table for three months, at the first examina- 
 tion were certain of being passed into a superior class. 
 Th^re are few subjects on which a certain advance- 
 ment excites not a great emulation. I have, not- 
 withstanding, seen several remain for two successive 
 years in the lowest place in their class, without mak- 
 ing the slightest efforts to advance from it; I left 
 them invariably to themselves, but I never abandon- 
 ed them. 
 
 Rewards are due to pupils who distinguish them- 
 selves ; friendly counsels, advice on the means of 
 extricaiing themsflves from a shameful sit«Rtion, 
 should be perscveringly given to timid, idle and fri- 
 volous children, in whom a tardy development often 
 leads to unexpected reflection. 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION, SJjf 
 
 1 have seen in my classes several changes, so un- 
 expected and complete, that they appeared almost 
 miraculous. But these changes seem less surpri- 
 sing in the eyes of persons used to distinguish in 
 children variety of dispositions and characters. A 
 young girl remained fur three years in the lowest 
 place in her class. Her carelessness was remarked in all 
 her actions; she was always illcombed, and ill dressed, 
 and tookherdancinglessons regularly without any one 
 perceiving that she derived the slightest advantage 
 from them. On the day on which she completed her 
 fourteenth year, this girl entered the breakfast- roon\ 
 very carefully dressed, exhibiting a different carriage, 
 and an entirely novel expression in her countenance 
 A few days afterwards, I understood that her atten- 
 tion to her lessons was unremitting, that there was 
 not a word of reproach to her on her conduct. Ac 
 the end of a month, she was raised three places, and 
 in less than a year, she was ranked with honour 
 among the most advanced pupils. Propriety, good 
 behaviour, and decorum, were all maintained with- 
 out the slightest return to bad and long contracted 
 habits. I consulted several physicians on so sudden 
 a change ; they attributed it to a more rapid circu- 
 lation of the blood, caused by the development of 
 this age, and to the salutary impression on her mind, 
 which the idea that she had entered her fifteenth 
 year had made. 
 
 As long as I live, I shall preserve the touching 
 and melancholy recollection of a charming girl, whom 
 I brought up from the age of eight years. Perfectly 
 intelligent, but slow — at the age of eleven she spelt 
 as at four. I took particular pains with her reading 
 lesson ; I chose interesting books ; her heart was 
 
256 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 
 
 touched J but even in wetting the pages of Paul and 
 Virginia with her tears, she spelt syllable by syllable. 
 I continued her education, and the studies of gram- 
 mar, writing, elocution and music. I made her re- 
 cite all the fine scenes of Racine, and no longer made 
 her read aloud. Her progress was satisfactory in 
 all the branches of her education. Finally, at the 
 end of two years, I ordered her to mount the pulpit, 
 lo read during dinner. She took the book, and at- 
 tracted general attention by the correctness of her 
 reading ; nobody ever recited the part of Esther with 
 more noble, touching, and varied expression : and 
 throughout her life, unfortunately too short, the just- 
 ness of an enlightened spirit, joined to a most pious 
 and elevated soul, placed her among the number of 
 women to whom socitty rejoices to render a public 
 and general homage. What is this barrier raised by 
 a fearful imagination ! Others will examine and de- 
 clare, but this is certain, that it rather requires to be 
 gently turned, than forcibly leaped over. 
 
 In public education, the days should be occupied 
 by an uninterrupted course of duties and amuse- 
 ments. Practice the art of introducing powerful in- 
 citements to emulation ; in pleasures, as in labour, 
 let all amusements serve to the development of the 
 mind, as to that of the body. Abandon not the choice 
 of games to the will of children j they will introduce 
 a license with which they would be quickly fatigued; 
 but let the appearance of liberty be maintained ; 
 pleasure exists not without it. Propose a new game; 
 choose and teach innocent pastimes : bring the remi- 
 niscences of your youth to assist the amusements of 
 childhood, as you give to its occupations the expe- 
 rience of your studies. I will mention the methods 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 237 
 
 which I employed, merely with a view of being use- 
 ful to people who devote themselves to cares which 
 have occupied me for more than twenty years. Let 
 rewards be united to important duties, as to the most 
 simple occupations. 
 
 In religious ceremonies, pupils with whom the 
 music masters were satisfied, were chosen to sing the 
 anthem, or at great solemnities, to execute motetti 
 or chorusses. The altar of my chapel at Saint-Ger- 
 main was without the balustrades. Among the scho- 
 lars who prepared to make their first communion, the 
 chaplain chose those who best answered the Cathe- 
 chism, to hold the cloth on communion days j the 
 youngest possessors of the rose presented the conse- 
 crated bread at the ceremony of the dedication of 
 my chapel. Those who had obtained good tickets 
 were the only ones selected to go first in the pro- 
 cession, and strew flowers on the path of the Holy 
 Sacrament, on the festival of Corpus Christi. To 
 grant these honourable functions to pupils distin- 
 guished for their good conduct, is to unite, in the 
 eyes of all, religious duties to social virtues. 
 
 On Thursday I had always a concert ; children 
 who could execute the most trifling piece on the pi- 
 ano-forte were listened to with as much interest as 
 the clever scholar, who rapidly ran over the keys. 
 The reward of both was f qually six good points, re= 
 gistercd in the bo<ik of the music mistresses ; among 
 whom, as among their pupils, these inspections ex- 
 cited an emulation, which quickly produced me great 
 success in this part of education. 
 
 Seats placed in a particular order, and two more 
 lamps lighted in a class — and behold a fete for happy 
 youth 1 On Sunday they anced to the piano -, this 
 
 2)2 " i 
 
258 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 
 
 instrument has now become the habitual orchestra ia 
 
 friendly parties. Br causing the music and dancing 
 to be well executed, this amusement usefully con- 
 firmed the lessons in both these accomplishments. 
 
 In winter, at Saint-Germain, when snow and ice 
 prevented the scholars from walking, and out of door 
 amusements, I passed the hours of recreation, in 
 making them repeat the tragedy of Esther. In like 
 manner, I made them learn some of the comedies of 
 madame de Genlis, in French, English, or Italian ; 
 her theatre having been translated into both these 
 latter languages. The exact pronunciation of French 
 is obtained by reciting verse ; and nothing familiar- 
 ises us with the use of foreign languages so much as 
 repeating dialogues, and dramatic scenes in them. 
 
 The reward of these exercises, at once useful and 
 amusing:, svas a representation of Esther. It alwavs 
 took place on Monday or Shrove Tuesday, and was 
 repeated instead of the balls and amusements of the 
 Carnival. This chef d'ceuvre of Racine, composed 
 for the royal house of St. Cyr, was represented by 
 pupils for three successive winters. Racine has so 
 perfectly calculated the effect of his flowing and pom- 
 pous lines, recued by pure and innocent voices j and 
 the part of Esther was so well performed by the girl 
 who undertook it, that this piece excited a species of 
 interest which it necessarily loses in public theatres. 
 These representations were spoken too much of; 
 everv bodv wished to see them, and it was found bad 
 to admit any other spectators than the inmates of 
 ihe house. I thought to tread the most noble and 
 honourable path, but I was misuken ; moralists of 
 the present time are still more severe than those of 
 the age of Louis XIV. Public opinion will be obey- 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 259 
 
 td ; I suppressed these representations. I must, 
 notwithstanding, mention a circumstance which was 
 evident to me ; it is not a blameable vanity, much 
 less a dangerous coquetry, which leads young girls 
 to distinguish themselves in these exercises. 1 he 
 idle, heavy, and inconsequential — all, in short, who 
 were unfortunately too disposed to deliver them- 
 selves up blindly to the vices of the world, never me- 
 rited the honour of playing the parts of Esther, Elise, 
 and Ahasutrus. In acknowledging that it is equally 
 wise and right to suppress for ever all theatrical re- 
 presentations in girl's schools, I owe this tribute to 
 the virtues of youth, and it is with great satisfaction 
 that 1 render them this homage. 
 
 Di\ision into the classes is indispensable; a hun- 
 dred pupils seem to indicate four classes of five-and- 
 twenty. 
 
 With regard to children from six to eight years 
 of age, they are wholly occupied in the lowest class 
 in learning to read, to form the first characters of 
 writing, and in fables selected from those which are 
 most calculated for childhood. It is evident, as J. J, 
 Rousseau observes, that children comprehend imper- 
 fectly the most simple things ; but in proportion as 
 their understanding is formed, it recalls that which 
 thev learnt in their most tender age. Samplers, 
 hemming, and overcasiing, should occupy children. 
 Reading lessons should be short and repeated. To . 
 teach five-and-twenty children to read and write 
 quickly, three mistresses are indispensable. 
 
 Learning by heart is the surest way of knowing 
 the dates and great events of history. 1 have tried 
 argumentative reading, followed by extracts, made 
 
60 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION'. 
 
 iv ihe pupilis. Those who pursued this method were 
 not highly successful. 
 
 To facts learnt by heart, we should unite the care 
 of interrogating scholars on the things thus acquired, 
 obliging them to construct phrases themselves, with- 
 out confining them to those learnt, which they may 
 abridge. What signifies it whether they repeat their 
 lesion word for word, if they relate the facts clearly, 
 and the precise date is fixed in their memory ? 
 
 Extracts are geiierally dry and uninteresting, it is 
 true ; yet they may be ot use ; but even then, they 
 can only be compared to canvass mounted on a frame: 
 rcaJiBg will give the facts more at length ; which 
 in the same manner may be compared to the shaded 
 silks which cover the surface of the canvass. 
 
 We should keep ^wa\ from classes the numerous, 
 we may say innumcrabic, works composed for the use 
 of youth. Whatever mav be the purity of the mo- 
 rals which they contaia, thev always coosist of little 
 amusing stories, ar.d their charm prevents a taste for 
 more serious reading. Books of history, and even 
 Telemachus, will be seldom read by a young person 
 who possesses Ade'e et Theodore^ and Les Feil/eii du 
 Chateau^ &c. From this numerous libiary, composed 
 for children in France, England and Germany, I se- 
 lect onlv stories written frr the earliest age, abiidg- 
 ments of natural histor\ , and travels. \Vhat I here 
 submit is the resul^of experience. 
 
 SECT. IV. 
 
 It is necessary to bring up youth to the order and 
 cares Vrhich prepare uomen for the duties of house- 
 keeping. I have remarked that the most useful 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION, 261 
 
 thing is to give them the care of their drawers ; but 
 you must request the honour of having a key. 
 
 In France, little girls are scarcely able to assume 
 these cares before the age of twelve or thirteen} to 
 deliver them to them sooner, is to make them con- 
 tract a habit of disorder, which ceases in time to an- 
 noy them. Until thirteen, the arrangement of others 
 should strike them, and give them a taste for order. 
 Visits to the drawers of the elder scholars should be 
 made in the most unexpected manner, that the mis- 
 chievous foresight of youth may not guard it against 
 surprises. — The chemises, frocks, and stockings of 
 scholars, from six years old to twelve or thirteen, 
 should be in the foul press, and their parcels of clean 
 linen given to them twice a-week. Others, from 
 thirteen to the time of their departure, should re- 
 ceive it, count and set it down, collect it and tie it 
 up ; and carry the keys of their drawers or trunks at 
 the end of a little chain, attached to their girdle. 
 
 To take care of your things early, and to keep 
 them in order, is a valuable habit to contract ; and 
 to this end we should deprive the richest children of 
 the services of domestics. I know very well, that 
 arrived at the moment of having such, they will dis- 
 engage themselves from all those little duties which 
 oftctn annoyed them, and for which they received 
 chidings and reprimands ; but their liking for order 
 will be established, they will not bear to see confu- 
 sion among their clothes, which will be better sewed, 
 &c. and we know, generally, that we can neither com- 
 mand nor judge well, except in a situation, or in re- 
 gard to an art, of which we have practised or studied 
 the rules. Finally, if the inconstancy of fortune, ex- 
 amples of which have been so multiplied in our days, 
 
262 THOUGHTS OX EDCCATIOX. 
 
 precipitates a woman from the state of competeDce 
 or riches, which she eDJoyed, into total destitution, — 
 accustomed to order, economy, and propriety, she 
 will never fall into the horrors of miserv : if onlv a 
 humble pallet retnaios to her, it will be decent. 
 
 For several years I have seen women whom for- 
 tune had equally ill-treated ; and I have remarked 
 the diflPtrence which in similar situations was estab- 
 lished between the autcmatoos, accustomed from 
 their infancy to be followed, served and dressed, 
 and those whcm a better education secured from the 
 disorders of poverty. 1 entered the hovel of a Creole, 
 formerly pcssessirg four hundred thousand livres 
 a-year, a lady of the old court, and who, perhaps, in 
 her youth attracted all eyes in the gallery of Ver- 
 sailles, by the richness of her apparel and jewels, 
 and embalmed the air as she walked with the per- 
 fcmes of which she made use. This female I saw, 
 old, ugly, and dirtj, lodged in a little attic in Paris. 
 Time had brough: on her age and wrinkles, and chese 
 'defects were added to her ugliness, and the disgust 
 which her person and habitatioo inspired. She was 
 dressed in diny linen, and a gown full of slits ; her 
 skin was discoloured with dirt, and her bed showed 
 that she slept in it without taking the pains to make 
 it. A table in the middle of the room ^ as covered 
 with dishes and bottles, ^hich had remained from 
 the precedmg da>'s dicner ; a cup, in which she was 
 going to take her chocoljte,she had put on the table 
 with htr false hair, combs, and a broken bottle which 
 contained a Hale huile antique^ a laste for fashion 
 never quitting women who consider neither their 
 age cor their situation in the wcrid. I have also 
 seen, with the delightful sentiment which unites with 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 263 
 
 humanity, a woman ruined by the multiplied events 
 of our revolution, resist the approaches of misery by 
 honourable effort, abandon the eclat of luxury, but 
 still observe the greatest propriety. Her chamber 
 contained little furniture, and there was not a single 
 article which possesst:d any value ; yet I remained 
 with pleasure in her modest dwelling. A deal table, 
 well kept, surpassed in appearance the woods of the 
 Indies which have not been so carefully attended to ; 
 white curtains, a well swept floor, sprinkled with 
 fresh water — and some vases, containing flowers 
 newly gathered, still perfumed the air which she 
 breathed ; the work-basket, placed near the straw 
 bed of the proprietor of this simple dwelling, united 
 to present to all eyes the invaluable advantage of in- 
 dustry and arrangement. Formerly rich, she now 
 lived upon the labour of her hands ; and I have car- 
 ried her very fine embroideries, which were quickly 
 executed, and imagined, with that good taste which 
 so much enhances the value of work. 1 hese two 
 ictures which I have drawn, are most scrupulously 
 true. 
 
 The scholars of £cou..'n, arrived at the age in 
 which we begin to value education, learned why I 
 obliged them to keep their clothes in order, and 
 to sweep their rooms; and far from reproaching 
 me with the punishments which alSicted them in 
 their youth, they thanked me for this salutary cus- 
 tom. It mvist be confessed though the cares of a 
 house cannot be acquired by practice in a school ; 
 we can only give the theory, and form the judgment 
 on thib important subject; the wisest instituiions can- 
 not remedy this inconvenience. It is with her pa- 
 rents alone, that a girl can give herself to the details 
 
264 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 
 
 necessary to be known, to keep a house ; and the 
 sage foresight of a mother, in confiding cares to 
 youth, is essentially to be consulted. 
 
 Madame de Maintenon, in requiring the inmates 
 of St, C.r to go in procession to fetch their dishes, 
 and place them with their own hands on the table of 
 the refectory, at the dinner hour, surely had it in 
 view only to diminish the pride of young girls of 
 distinction, educated in this superb establishment. 
 To carry dishes ready cooked frum one place to ano- 
 ther, can teach nothing in the administration of 
 household affairs ; and how many things must be 
 learnt, to keep even a poor, not to mention a compe- 
 tent or opulent house ! 
 
 To make their beds, sweep their chambers and 
 class-rooms, even to do the service of the table, are, 
 I think, things which we should oblige pupils to un- 
 derstand ; their frocks and linen should also be all 
 made by themselves. I have tried to teach my girls 
 to wash and iron ; I even thought, one year, of 
 making them pickle vegetables for winter, make pre- 
 serves, &c. But I quickly repented of trusting 
 muslins to their hot and ill managed irons, and 
 fruits, sugar, &.c. to their inevitable desire to taste. 
 I do not say that they cannot be employed in these 
 sorts of things : I represent with truth that which I 
 tried, and in which I failed of success. I think, 
 that this kind of instruction cannot be given until 
 eighteen. 
 
 Accomplishments employ an immense time, and 
 an education must be commenced very early for a 
 pupil to possess them in an eminent degree, and at 
 the same time have her mind, heart and memory 
 cultivated. It is distressing to think, that whole 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 265 
 
 hours must be perseveringly employed to teach per- 
 forming perFecily on the harp and piano ; yet I can 
 boast of obtaining great success with all scholars 
 who remained with me eight or ten years. All who 
 only remained two or three, departed with some ac- 
 quirements, but they were still far from giving a just 
 idea of the whole of my plan of education. Un- 
 finished and finished educations, are in the propor- 
 tion of forty five to fifty, which must necessarily 
 prevent justice being done to an establishment in 
 which parents, because they pay, generally shorten 
 the time of instruction as much as they can. The 
 institutions of princes are alone exempt from these 
 serious inconveniences. 
 
 SECT. V. 
 
 We often meet with happy visionaries, who, in 
 their dreams, pursuing the beau ideal vnoYoWy as well 
 as physically, think that youth should be actuated 
 by the love of right alone, and blame all rewards 
 granted in classes ; surely their eyes are shut to the 
 actions of men, — for emulation, the hope of rewards 
 and honours, have never failed to lead them to great 
 actions. 
 
 Young ladies' boarding-schools in France, owing 
 to the spirit of rivalry produced by a great competi- 
 tion, have perhaps, carried the pomp of their exami- 
 nations too far ; but the severe critics of our papers 
 on this abuse are also carried too far ; it was easy to 
 repress it by a single hint from the ministry charged 
 with public instruction, and we should not have 
 given to foreigners every false idea of these estab- 
 lishments in which interest, combined with principle, 
 generally causes religion and mt3rality to prevail. 
 A a 
 
266 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 
 
 In every institution I had great difficulty in main- 
 taining the moderate degree of my punishments. 
 IVlusic mistresses, impatient at a sonata badly played, 
 wo< Id often wish to apply my greatest punishment 
 for th'fs offence, which was, to dine alone at a table 
 without a cloth, that for this simple reason bore the 
 imposing denomination of the -wooden table. I op- 
 posed Eiyself to these desires, and acquired from 
 some the character of a very weak instructress. 
 
 Punishments in ancient French monasteries were 
 so unreasonable, that a single example may give a 
 just idea of them. I wish I could transmit the fol- 
 lowing anecdote with the siin])le ^nd noble grace 
 which the marechale de Beauvau imparted to every 
 thing she related; it was from her I heard it. 
 
 Educated at Port-Royal, the marechale de Beau- 
 vau, daughter of the duke de Rohan Chabot, then 
 six years of age, in this house found herself asso- 
 ciated with the daughters of the most illustrious fami- 
 lies in France. One of them was so unfortunate as 
 to steal a piece of six francs j she was only five years 
 old. Animated by the strong desire of eradicating 
 for ever the principle of so base a vice, the nuns as- 
 semt^led, and condemned the young boarder to be 
 hanged. A pulley is fixed to the ceiling of an apart- 
 ment, a basket is suspended to it by means of a cord 
 and the little girl is soon drawn up to the ceiling j 
 the nuns and scholars marched under the basket, 
 singing a De Profundis ; the marechale de Beauvau 
 passing in ber turn, raised her head, and cried to 
 her com.panion, Es tu morte P Fas encore, replied 
 the little unfortunate, through the reeds of her bas- 
 ket. Thirty years after this ridiculous and blame- 
 able scene, the marechale often met with the little 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 267 
 
 girl that was hanged, then a duchess at the court of 
 Versailles, and never failed to accost her with 
 £s tu morte ? to have the pleasure of still hearing her 
 artless Pas encore* 
 
 How much mischief is there in such a punishment ! 
 Who would believe that at that time the good Rol- 
 lin was writing tales for the scholars of Port-Royal ? 
 (these stories unfortunately are lost.) Assuredly he 
 did not make the laws. 
 
 If punishments are made use of, they should be 
 appropriated carefully. A single child is gt^nerally 
 punished enough for a whole class. The art of pu- 
 nishing with judgment is wanting in preceptors-^ go- 
 vernesses, and even passionate parents, who conclude 
 by striking their children, and often by giving mis- 
 chievous blows to those who are most dear to them.=^ 
 Rewards given with perseverance and equity, gra- 
 dually acquire the highest influence, and in schools 
 honour tokes part in them. I have, however, learnt 
 by experience, that when a recompense is so marked 
 as to attract the notice of the zvorld^ it attains too 
 great a value. I v/ould not, therefore, recommend 
 as a reward of character, the use«of the rose, as given 
 in my establishment every three rnctnths, by result 
 of a oener. 1 scrutiny. 1 his reward of good charac- 
 ter, or mildness, had too much effect ; girls of four- 
 teen or fifteen, nc*^ obtaining it, and fearing to dis- 
 
 * I have ali-e«f1y said, that ihej (preceptors) should never be actnate(i| 
 by passirjii, teniper, or ca|)rice. This is ntnf of llie grentest ditccls in 
 mait-.MS of education, bi-caiise it never t'scapes the ptnetrating eyes ot" 
 scliol^rs, liut rituiers ail ihtr good q'.aliiies of the luasler aliuosi nuga- 
 tory, while II tnkes away nearly all .authority from his ailviee and re- 
 inoristiarice. What is still more vexatious, those- who are th-.- most 
 passiOiiate, are the least awar- of it, and wdl oltf-n -receivi- with a baii 
 gr;ice ihe cominuiiicalii-ns o: I'lose who warn ihcm of it ; which is, how- 
 ever, pti haps thu kindest office a friend can do thorn. (lioilio, Traite 
 des Etudes.) 
 
268 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 
 
 please their parents, or be removed from the esta- 
 blishment, melted into tears, or fainted ; and on the 
 
 dav oi this distribution, laces were cut in all corners 
 of my principal class-room. 
 
 So great a sensation excited in young hearts ap- 
 peared to me to be dangerous, and I became alarm- 
 ed at it. 
 
 It should at least be remarked, that I have shewn 
 no undue enthusiasm in my institutions, I think 
 that the prize of mildness and good character may 
 be identified with that which is due to pre-eminence, 
 since these qualities are found naturally united ; do- 
 cility and equality of temper being the true steps 
 which conduct youth to success. If we meet with 
 a voung person of great sweetness of temper, but 
 without capacity, we should discover some particu- 
 lar manner of rewarding her. 
 
 rivis. 
 
 
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