'i ^^ '^^^ %_^^' ^^^ x^ .'^' ,0 o a '^, ^: .6 ■^^ '^ '^^ ^p <<\^' ^ : #^ "^ V °o cP- ■^aa^ \ V ^ ^ ^ ^ "^^ ^-^ v^ 0^ 1 - s^' ^"^ .4><^. '^^" 't O. ^%.- ^^ •^ <^^ V' "<'^- # ^ ^ K \ .r^^ * a ii ^ ^^ . . o ^ -^^ " ^£f%i. 11 M^]LA.]RAR{n)m^CE IDE STiVTElL^UKDl^STlBIE^ Jiostotv Carter ^v. Sendee. THE BIOGRAPHIES O? MADAME DE 3TAEL, A3VJ) MADAME ROLAND. BY MRS CHILD, AUTHOR OF ' HOBOMOK,' ' THE MOTHER'S BOOK/ &C BOSTON, PUBLISHED BY CARTER AND HEKDEE, 1832. .^ ' ^^ Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1832, By Carter & Hewdee, in the Clerk's office of the District Court of Massachusetts. //^4 PRINTED BY lis. R, BUTl'S K TO GEORGE TICKNOR, Esq., ^T^fs Uolume IS RESPECTFULLY AND GRATEFULLY INSCRIBED, BY THE EDITOR. PREFACE. The object of the Ladies' Family Library is to fur- nish a series of volumes, which will suit the taste, and interest the feelings of women. If this object be not attained, it certainly will not be for want of abundant materials. Biograpliy is so universally fascinating, that it was very naturally the first subject presented to my mind; and I believe I am not mistaken in supposing that the Lives of Madame de Stael and Madame Roland will prove unusually attractive, both on account of their own great qualities, and the very exciting historical events with which they are so intimately connected. The amount of labor bestowed upon succeeding volumes will vary according to circumstances ; but all will be prepared and arranged by the Editor, and will contain more or less of original writing. v^ Vlll The present volume has been no easy task ; partic- ularly the biography of Madame de Stael. It was necessary to consult many volumes, most of which contained but little ; and the orderly arrangement of this mosaic, together with the groundwork in which it was to be inlaid, required some patience. Madame Necker de Saussure has given a most eloquent sketch of Madame de Sta'el's character and writings ; bat she has passed lightly over events, and has furnished no dates. For much information, some of which could not have been obtained elsewhere, I am indebted to the very interesting Lectures on French Literature by Professor Ticknor, which the author had the kindness to loan me in MS. As Madame Roland had written an account of her- self, the materials for her biography were in a more compact form: It has, however, been necessary to abridge useless details, to add such information as could be gained from other sources, to arrange what was confused, and to explain the political relation of parties. I at first intended to include Madame de Stael and Madame Guyon in the same volume ; and I believe it was so advertised. The arrangement was accidental ^ IX and upon reflection, it seemed very incongruous to place together two characters so opposite, that, had they lived at the same period, they never would willingly have remained long in each other's presence. The spiritual Madame Guyon despised the world as heartily as the intellectual Madame de Stael loved it ; and by placing them in the same volume, readers who were interested in one biography, would have been com- pelled to purchase the other. This would have been too much like the merchant, who, wishing to dispose of a quantity of Bibles, sent them out with a cargo of warming-pans, with strict orders that none should be allowed to have a warming-pan unless he bought a Bible also. In the second volume, Madame Guyon will be asso- ciated with the pious Lady Russell, with whom she was nearly cotemporary. The following volumes are in preparation: Anec- dotes of the Wives of Distinguished Men — The Em- ployments and Condition of Women in Various Ages and Nations, intended to show the Effects of Chris- tianity on their Character and Situation — Memoirs of Lady Fanshawe, of Madame Larochejaquelein, Prin- cess Laraballe, &c. In order that the authenticity of facts related in the Ladies' Family Library may be easily tested, a list of the books in which they may be found will be given at the end of each article. The volumes will be handsomely printed, each containing a good engraving. As the series will be numbered upon the outside, and not upon the title-page, purchasers can make such selections as they choose, and have them bound in whatever order they think proper. MADAME DE STAEL MADAME BE STAEL lime semblc voir en elle une de ces belles Grecques, qui enchantaient et subjuguaient le monde. Elle a plus de talents encore que d' amour propre ; mais des talents si rares doivent necessairement exciter le de- sir de les deveiopper ; et je ne sais pas quel theatre pent sufBre a cette activite d' imagination, a ce caractere ardent enfin qui se fait sentirdans toutes ses paroles. Co7-inne- In a gallery of celebrated women, the first place unquestionably belongs to Anne Marie Louise Germaine Necker, Baroness de Stael Holstein. She was the only child of James Necker, the famous financier, (a long time the popular idol in France), and of Susanna Curchod, the daughter of a poor Swiss clergyman, who in the sequestered vil- lage of Grassy bestowed upon her as thorough an education as fell to the lot of any woman in Eu- rope. Gibbon, the historian, visited the father of Mad- emoiselle Curchod, and became a captive to her charms. He tells the story in his own Memoirs, where he informs us that, ' she was learned with- out pedantry, lively in conversation, pure in senti- 1 2 MADAME DE STAEL. ment, and elegant in manners : her wit and beauty were the theme of universal applause.' Gibbon prospered in his suit ; but such an obscure connexion was not agreeable to his father, who threatened to disinherit him if he persisted in it. He obeyed the parental command, like a dutiful son and a very philosophical lover ; and the young lady, on her part, seems to have borne the separation with becoming resignation and cheerfulness. After her father's death, Mademoiselle Curchod taught a school in Geneva ; where she became ac- quainted with M. Necker, the gentleman whom she afterwards married. He was a native of Geneva, and at that time a banker in Paris. The large fortune, which he afterwards acquired, had its origin in the following circumstances. The Old East India Company, consisting principally of nobility, were ignorant of business, and trusted everything to the abilities and discretion of M. Necker. By loaning them money at the enormous interest they had been accustomed to pay, and by forming a lottery to relieve them from embarrassment, he ob- tained at once more than seventy thousand pounds ; and Vv'ith this capital he became one of the wealthiest bankers in Europe. Thus Madame Necker, united to a man of un- common talent and eloquence, herself rich in in- telligence and learning, and surrounded by all the facilities of affluence, passed at once from the monotonous seclusion of her early life to a situa- tion as dazzling as it was distinguished. MADAME DE STAEL. 3 Their house was a favorite gathering-place for the fashionable and philosophical coteries of Paris, and foreigners of note always made it a point to be presented to Madame Necker. It has been said that her husband's rise as a politician was greatly owing to her literary assem- blies, which never failed to draw around them all the talented and influential men of the day. She wrote a book of Miscellanies, that obtained consid- erable reputation, especially in Germany. But all the honors paid to Monsieur and Madame Necker, however flattering at the time, were completely eclipsed in the glorious distinction of being the parents of Madame de Stael. This extraordinary being was born in Paris, in 1766. In her infancy, she was noticed for a re- markable degree of brightness, gayety, and free- dom. M. de Bonstetten (the correspondent of Gray the poet) tells the following anecdote of her when five or six years old. Being on a visit to his friend, M. Necker, then residing at Coppet, his country-seat, about two leagues from Geneva, he was one day walking through the grounds, v/hen he was suddenly struck with a switch, from behind a tree ; turning round, he observed the little rogue laughing. She called out, ' Mamma wishes me to learn to use my left hand, and so I am trying.' Simond says, ' She stood in great awe of her moth er, but was very familiar with her father, of whom she was dotingly fond. One day, after dinner, as Madame Necker rose first and left the room, the 4 MADAME DE STAEL. little girl, till then on good behaviour, all at once seizing her napkin, threw it across the table, in a fit of mad spirits, at her father's head ; then ran round to him, and hanging about his neck allow** ed him no time for reproof.' The caresses of her father, contrary to the more rigid views of Madame Necker, constantly encour- aged her childish prattle ; and the approbation she obtained perpetually excited her to new efforts 1 even then, she replied to the continual pleasantries of her father with that mixture of vivacity and ten- derness, which afterward so delightfully character- ized her intercourse with him. Madame Necker de Saussure, her relation and intimate friend, speak- ing of her early maturity, says, ' It seems as if Madame de Stael had always been young, and never been a child. I have heard of only one trait, which bore the stamp of childhood ; and even in this there is an indication of talent. When a very little girl, she used to amuse herself by cutting paper kings and queens, and making them play a tragedy ; her mother being very rigid in her religious opinions, forbade a play which might foster a love of the theatre; and Marie would often hide herself to pursue her favorite occupation at leisure. Perhaps in this way she acquired the only peculiar habit she ever had, that of twisting a bit of paper, or a leaf, between her fingers.' Through her whole life, the idea of giving pleas- ure to her parents was a very strong motive with her. She gave a singular proof of this at ten \ MADAME DE STAEL. 5 years of age. Seeing how much they both admir- ed M. Gibbon, the early lover, and afterward the cordial friend of Madame Necker, she imagined it was her duty to marry him, in order that they might constantly enjoy his agreeable conversation ; and she seriously proposed it to her mother. Those who have seen a full length profile of the corpulent historian will readily believe the child's imagination was not captivated with his figure. Madame Necker being anxious that her daughter should have a companion of her own age, invited Mademoiselle Huber, afterward Madame Rilliet ; the choice was decided by the intimacy of the fami- lies, and by the careful education of Mademoiselle Huber. This lady has written an account of their first interview, which will give an idea of the man- ners and habits of Mademoiselle Necker at eleven years old. At that time her father had just been appointed Comptroller General of the Finance of France. The friend of her youth, describing their introduction to each other, says, ' She talked to me with a warmth and facility, which was already elo- quence, and which made a great impression upon me. We did not play, like children. She imme- diately a^sked me about my lesson, whether I knew any foreign languages, and if I often went to the theatre. When I told her I had never been but three or four times, she exclaimed — and promised that we should often go together ; adding, that when we returned, we would, according to h^r usual habit, write down the subject of the dramas, 6 MADAME DE STAEL. and what had particularly struck us. She likewise proposed that we should write together every morn- ing. ' We entered the parlor. By the side of Madame Necker's chair was a footstool, on which her daugh* ter seated herself, being obliged to sit very upright. She had hardly taken her accustomed place, when two or three elderly persons gathered round her, and began to talk to her with the most affectionate interest. The Abbe Raynal held her hand in his a lonff time, and conversed with her as if she had been twentyfive years of age. The others around her were MM. Thomas, Marmontel, the Marquis de Pesay, and the Baron de Grimm. At table, how she listened ! She did not open her mouth, yet she seemed to talk in her turn, so much was spoken in the changing expression of her features. Her eyes followed the looks and movements of those who conversed, and one would have judged that she even anticipated their ideas. On every sub- ject she seemed at home ; even in politics, which at that period excited very great interest. After dinner, numerous visiters arrived. Every one, as they came up to Madame Necker, spoke to her daughter, indulging in some slight compliment, or pleasantry. She replied to everything with ease and gracefulness : they loved to amuse themselves by attacking her, and trying to embarrass her, in order to excite that little imagination, which already began to show its brilliancy. Men the most dis- tinguished for intellect were those who particularly MADAME DE STAEL. 7 attached themselves to her. They asked her to give an account of what she had been reading, talked of the news, and gave her a taste for study by conversing about that which she had learned, or that of which she was ignorant.' In consequence of Madame Necker's system of education, her daughter, at the same time that she pursued a course of severe study, was constantly accustomed to conversation beyond her years. The world must have somewhat softened the severity of Madame Necker's opinions : for we find that she of- ten allowed her daughter to assist at the represen- tation of the best dramatic p'eces. Her pleasures, as well as her duties, were exercises of intellect ; and nature, which had originally bestowed great gifts, was assisted by every possible method. In this way her vigorous faculties acquired a prodi- gious growth. At this period of her life, we find the following account of her in the Memoir of Baron de Grimm. ' While M. Necker passes decrees which cover him with glory, and will render his administration eternally dear to France ; while Madame Necker renounces all the sweets of society to devote her- self to the establishment of a Hospital of Charity, in the parish of St Sulpicius, their daughter, a girl of twelve years old, who already evinces talents above her age, amuses herself with writing little comedies, after the manner of the semi-dramas of M. de St Mark. She has just completed one, in two acts, entitled the " Inconvejiiences of the life 8 MADAME DE STAEL. led at Paris," which is not only astonishing for her age, but appears even very superior to her models. It represents a mother who had two daughters, one brought up in all the simplicity of rural life, and the other amid the grand airs of the capital. The latter is the favorite, from the talents and graces she displays ; but this mother, falling into misfor- tunes, from the loss of a law-suit, soon learns which of the two is in reality most deserving of her affec- tion. The scenes of this little drama are well con- nected together, the characters are well supported, and the development of the intrigue is natural and full of interest. M. Marmontel, \\ ho saw it perform- ed in the drawing-room at St Ouen, the country- house of M. Necker, by the author and some of her young companions, was affected by it even to tears.' In 1781, when her father published his Compte Rendu, Mademoiselle Necker wrote him a very re- markable anonymous letter, which he immediately recognised by the style. From her earliest youth she evinced a decided taste for composition. Her first attempts were por- traits and eulogiums, a style of writing which was then extremely popular in France, under the in- fluence of Thomas, the friend of Madame Necker, At the age of fifteen, she made extracts from the Spirit of tlie Laws ; accompanied by her own re- flections ; and at that time the Abbe Raynal wish- ed her to furnish, for his great work, an article on the Jlevocation of the Edict of Nantes^ , Her father was naturally averse to female au« MADAME DE STAEL. 9 thors, and nothing but her very decided excellence could have induced him to pardon her love of wri- ting. The sensibilities of her heart seem to have been as early and as fully developed as the energies of her mind. In 1781 her father removed from office amid the universal lamentations of the people, and retired to his residence in Switzerland. Paul of Russia and his princess were then travelling through Europe, under the title of Count and Countess du Nord. The royal pair visited M. Necker, at Coppet, and expressed their respect and esteem in terms so flattering, that Mademoiselle Necker burst into tears. The same warmth and susceptibility of character was shown in her ardent attachment for Mademoi- selle Huber ; and indeed we find proofs of it at every period of her life. The deep feeling and sombre richness spread over all her writings, was early manifested in her literary taste : 'That which interested her,' says Madame Rilliet, ' was always that which made her weep.' The health of Mademoiselle Necker could not endure the high pressure of excitement so constant- ly applied to her intellectual faculties. Before she ^ was fifteen years old, the physicians were obliged ^^ to order complete seclusion, and total abandonment of study. This was a subject of great regret to Madame Necker. She had indulged an unbound- ed ambition for her daughter ; and, according to 10 MADAME DE STAEL. her ideas, to give up great learning was to renounce all hopes of distinction. Having obtained exten- sive erudition by her own patient habits of mental labor, she thought every body could study as in- tensely and methodically as she had done. ' With her, everything was a study. She studied society, individuals, the art of writing, the art of talking — she even studied herself: all was reduced to a sys- tem, and details were elevated to great importance/ Her feelings, as well as her mind, were kept in rigid subjection to propriety and method ; and hav- ing obtained much by effort, she exacted much from others. Her husband once said of her, ' Madame Necker would be perfectly amiable, if she only had something to forgive in herself.' Such a character pre-supposes very little facility in varying her plans : when she found her daugh- ter's constitution could not sustain the rigid system she had marked out for her, she gave the work of education entirely into the hands of her husband. The freedom of spirit thus granted to Mademoi- selle Necker was probably the reason her genius afterward took so bold a flight. A life all poetry succeeded to her previous habits of study and restraint. Everything conspired to give abundant nourishment to her active imagina- tion. She had nothing to do but to run about the woods of St Ouen, with her young friend, Mad- emoiselle Huber. The two girls, dressed as nymphs, or as muses, declaimed poetry, made verses, and wrote dramas, which they themselves represented. , MADAME DE STAEL. 11 The power of profiting by her father's leisure was a great advantage to her at this period of her life. She never neglected an opportunity of being with him ; and his conversation was always her highest enjoyment. M. Necker was every day more struck with her wonderful intelligence ; and never did it show itself in such charming forms as when with him. She soon perceived that he had need of relaxation and amusement ; and in the gayety of an affectionate heart she tried a thousand ways to make him smile. Her father was never prodigal of his approbation ; his looks were ever more flattering than his words. He found it more necessary, as well as more amusing, to notice her faults than her merits. No incipient imperfection escaped his raillery ; the slightest tendency to pre- tension, or exaggeration was promptly checked. In after life, she often used to say, ' I owe the frankness of my manners, and the ingenuousness of my character, entirely to my father's penetra- tion. He used to unmask all my little affectations ; and I acquired the habit of believing that he could see into my inmost heart.' As might be expected, the extreme vivacity of Mademoiselle Necker was continually betraying her into sins against her mother's ideas of order and decorum. On this subject, she made a thou- sand good resolutions, but was always sure to forget them the moment she needed them. She could not restrain her exuberant fancy and overflowing spirits. Her soul was a full, bright stream, forever 12 M A D A M E D E S T A E L . deluging its banks, and rushing and bubbling over all impediments. Sometimes, with the intention of being very pro- per, she would sit demurely behind her father, at a distance from the company, that she might not interrupt conversation : but presently one intelli- gent man would be withdrawn from the circle, then another, then another, unt 1 a noisy group was formed around her : M. Necker smiled, involunta- rily, as her lively conversation met his ear, and the original subject of discussion was entirely deranged. The perfect friendship ajid boundless sympathy existing between Mademoiselle Necker and her father was not entirely agreeable to Madame Neck- er : she was slightly jealous of losing the first place in her husband's aifections. Had her highly- gifted daughter excelled in such qualities as be- longed to her own character, she would have been associated with all her attractions, and success would naturally ''have been attributed to her judi- cious care ; but the fact was, her daughter pleased by qualities exactly opposed to her own, and her success in society originated in a course of educa- tion directly contrary to her views. Mademoiselle Necker's character was, in many points, different from her father's, and decidedly marked by a higher ordei of genius ; but in the quickness of her perceptions and the promptitude of her wit, she resembled him much more than she did her mother.* We must therefore forgive the * M. Necker, though no one could have guessed it from ' M ADA ME DE STA tL. 13 workings of human nature in Madame Necker, if she could not always conceal her impatience when she saw her husband giving himself up so unreserv- edly to the enjoyment of a mind alike without a model, or an equal. When Madame Saussure ex- pressed surprise at the prodigious distinction of Mademoiselle Necker, her mother replied, ' It is nothing, absolutely nothing at all, to what I would have made her.' Through her whole life Madame de Stael was characterized by candor and amiability ; and these qualities never showed themselves more plain- ly than when reproved by her mother. Perhaps she gave too open and decided a preference to her more indulgent parent ; but she always cherished a profound veneration for Madame Necker. Though she had, from her earliest childhood, indulged in habits of quick and lively repartee, she was never known, in her most careless moments, to speak a disrespectful word of her mother. Madame Necker had two different kinds of in- fluence upon the character and destiny of her illus- trious daughter ; both of which tended to produce the same remarkable result. She transmitted to her ardent affections, a strong capacity for deep impressions, great enthusiasm for his writings, was full of humor, and apt to see things in a ludicrous point of view. He was rather silent, but made sly remarks and sharp repartees. He wrote several witty plays ; but thinking it beneath the dignity of a minister of State to publish them, he burnt them. — Simond. 14 MADAME DE STAEL. the grand and beautiful, and an ambition for wit, talent, learning, and all kinds of distinction ; but the rigid restraint she imposed upon her in early life, instead of inducing her own habits of strict discipline and self-control, produced a violent reac- tion. Madame Necker thought everything of de- tail and method ; and the exaggerated importance she attached to them was probably the reason that her dauD-hter thouc^ht nothincr of them. In Madame O ~ ~ Necker's mind all was acquired and arranged ; in her daughter's all was freshness and creation. To one the world was a lesson to be studied ; to the other it was full of theories to be invented. The mother's admiration was exclusively given to habits and principles acquired with care, and maintained with watchfulness ; while the daughter's warmest sympathies were bestowed upon generous impulses, and natural goodness of heart. In after years, when death had taken from Mad- ame de Stael the friend of her infancy, and when sad experience had somewhat tamed the romance it could not destroy, she appi^- ' *ed her mother's well-balanced character more h.-nly. ' The more I see of life,' she once said to Madame Saussure, ' the better do I understand my mother; and the ' more does my heart feel the need of her.' Mademoiselle Necker resided at Coppet from 1781 to 1787, when her father was restored to of- fice, and his family accompanied him to Paris, During her stay in Switzerland she wrote a sen- timental comedy, called ' Sophia, or Secret Senti- MADAME DE STAEL. 15 ments/ founded on a story of ill-directed and un- happy love ; published when she was twentyone years of age. Immediately after she came to Paris, she finished her tragedy of Lady Jane Grey, which has had considerable reputation. Soon after, she wrote, but never published, another tragedy, called Mont- morency, in which the part of Cardinal de Riche- lieu is said to have been sketched with great spirit. These early productions had prominent de- fects, as well as beauties. They were marked by that perfect harmony between thought and expres- sion which always constituted her most delightful peculiarity, in conversation or writing ; but her friends considered them valuable principally on account of the promise they gave of future great- ness. To the world they are objects of curiosity, as the first records in the history of an extraordinary mind. Her dramas were written in verse ; but she nev- er after attempted poetry, except some slight efibrt for amusement, ^j^ vigorous and rapid mind was a little impatient binder the trammels of French versification. In prose, she was not compelled to sacrifice originality and freedom ; and in throw- ing away her fetters she lost nothing but rh}'me, for her soul poured into prose all its wealth of poetry. Before her twentieth year, she v/rote the three Tales, which were not published till 1795, nearly ten years after. She herself attached very little 16 MADAME DE STAEL. value to these light productions. A treatise on the various forms of fiction, in relation to progressive degrees of civilization, is introduced as a Preface- Mademoiselle Necker's eloquent and fascinating style of conversation gave a vivid interest to the earliest productions of her pen. No one heard her talk without being eager to read what she had written. The portraits and impromptu sketches, which she made for the amusement of her friends, were handed about in parties, and sought for with avidity : even in these were discovered her charac- teristic acuteness of thought, and the harmonious flow of her animated style. Something of the atten- tion paid her at this time may no doubt be attribu- ted to her father's popularity and political influence. If she had attracted much notice in Switzer- land, before her mind had attained the fulness of its majestic stature, it will readily be believed that she excited an unusual sensation when she appear- ed in the brilliant circles of Paris. Her hands and arms were finely formed, and of a most trans- parent whiteness. She sel{^m covered them — confessing, with the child-like Irtinkness which gave such an endearing charm to her powerful charac- ter, that she was resolved to make the most of the only personal beauty nature had given her.* True, *Her feet are said to have been clumsy. This circumstance gave rise to a pun, which annoyed her a little. On some occa- sion she represented a statue, the face of which was concealed. A gentleman being asked to gtiess who the statue was, glanc* ed at the block of marble on which she stood, and answered * Je vols le pied de Sta&l,' (lepiddestal.) MADAME DE STAEL. 17 she had none of the usual pretensions to be called a handsome woman ; but there was an intellectual splendor about her face that arrested and rivetted attention. ' No expression was permanent ; for her whole soul was in her countenance, and it took the character of every passing emotion. When in perfect repose, her long eye-lashes gave something of heaviness and languor to her usually animated physiognomy ; but when excited, her magnificent dark eyes flashed with genius, and seemed to an- nounce her ideas before she could utter them, as lightning precedes the thunder. There was noth- incr of restlessness in her features ; there was even something of indolence ; but her vigorous form, her animated gestures, her graceful and strongly marked attitudes, gave a singular degree of direct- ness and energy to her discourse. There was something drama{ic about her, even in dress, v/hich, v/hile it was altoo;ether free from ridiculous exag- geration, never failed to convey an idea of some- thing more picturesque than the reigning fashion. When she first entered a room, she walked with a slow and grave step. A slight degree of timidity made it necessary for her to collect her faculties when she was about to attract the notice of a party. This cloud of embarrassment did not at first permit her to distinguish anything ; but her face lighted up in proportion to the friends she recognised.' ' The kindness and generosity of her disposition led her to mark the merits of others strongly on 2 18 MADAME DE STAEL. her memory ; as she talked, she always seemed to have present to her thoughts the best actions and qualities of each one with whom she conversed. Her compliments partook of the sincerity of the heart from which they came. She praised without flattering. She used to say '* politeness was only the art of choosing among our thoughts." ' — She possessed this art in an eminent degree. There never was a more shrewd observer of human na- ture, or one who better knew how to adapt herself to every variety of character. Sir John Sinclair, a celebrated Scotchman, mentions a circumstance which shows the kind of tact she possessed. When he visited her father's house, he found her seated at the instrument, singing that plaintive Highland air, so popular with his countrymen, * Maybe we return to Lochabar no more.' The following highly-colored portrait of her, though full of French enthusiasm, can hardly give us an exaggerated idea of the homage she received. It was written by a gentleman, one of her literary friends. * She is the most celebrated priestess of Apollo ; the favorite of the god. The incense she offers is the most agreeable, and her hymns are the most dear. Her words, when she wishes, make the dei- ties descend to adorn his temple, and to mingle among mortals. From the midst of the sacred priestesses there suddenly advances one — my heart always recognises her. MADAME DE STAEL. 19 ' Her large dark eyes sparkle with genius ; her hair, black as ebony, falls in waving ringlets on her shoulders ; her features are more strongly marked than delicate, — one reads in them something above the destiny of her sex. * Thus would we paint the muse of poetry, or Clio, or Melpomene. " See her ! See her !" they exclaim, wherever she appears ; and we hold our breath as she approaches. * I had before seen the Pythia of Delphi, and the Sybil of Cumse ; but they were wild ; their gestures had a convulsive air ; they seemed less filled with the presence of the god than devoured by the Fu- ries. The young priestess is animated without ex- cess, and inspired without intoxication. Her charm is freedom ; all her supernatural gifts seem to be a part of herself. * She took her lyre of gold and ivory, and began to sing the praises of Apollo. The music and the words were not prepared. In the celestial poetic fire that kindled in her face, and in the profound attention of the people, you could see that her ima- gination created the song ; and our ears, at once astonished and delighted, knew not which to ad- mire most, the facility, or the perfection. * A short time after, she laid aside her lyre, and talked of the great truths of nature, — of the im- mortality of the soul, of the love of liberty, of the charm and the danger of the passions. To hear her, one would have said there was the experience of many souls mingled into one : seeing her youth, 20 ' MADAME DE STAEL. we were ready to ask how she had been able thus to anticipate life, and to exist before she was born. I have looked and listened with transport. I have discovered in her features a charm superior to beauty. What an endless play of variety in the ex- pression of her countenance ! What inflexions in the sound of her voice ! What a perfect corres- pondence between the thought and the expression ! She speaks — and, if I do not hear her words, her tones, her gestures, and her looks convey to me her meaning. She pauses — her last words resound in my heart, and I read in her eyes what she is yet about to say. She is silent — and the temple resounds with applause ; she bows her head in modesty ; her long eye-lashes fall over her eyes of fire ; and the sun is veiled from our sight !' Such was Madame de Stael in the lustre of her youth — advancing with joy and confidence into a life, which promised nothing but happiness. She was herself too kind to admit any forebodings of hatred, and too great an admirer of genius in others to suspect that it could be envied. But alas ! though ' Some flowers of Eden we still may inherit, The trail of the serpent is over them all.' Such remarkable and obvious superiority could not be cheerfully tolerated by the narrow-minded and the selfish. Mademoiselle Necker might have been forgiven for being the richest heiress in the kingdom ; but they could not pardon the fascina- MADAME DE STAEL. 21 tion of talent, thus eclipsing beauty, and overshad- owing rank. The power of intellect is borne with less patience than the tyranny of wealth ; for gen- ius cannot, like money, be loaned at six per cent. Accordingly we find an extreme willingness to repeat anything to the disadvantage of Mademoi- selle Necker. Anecdotes were busily circulated about her early awkwardness, her untameable gay- ety, the blunders that originated in her defect of sight, and, more than all, the mistakes into which she had been led by her warm unsuspecting temper, and the tricks that had been practised upon her in consequence of the discovery of her foibles. — ' Envy, party-spirit, the strong temptation to be witty at the expense of such a person, have multiplied ill- natured stories, eagerly repeated even by those who courted her society, and whom she believed to be her friends ; thus giving, without intending it, the measure of their own inferiority, by the exclusive notice they took of such peculiarities of character as happened to be nearest their own level.'* Neg- lecting to make a courtesy, and having a little piece of trimming ripped from her dress, when she was presented at court after her marriage, — and her having left her cap in the carriage, when she visit- ed Madame de Polignac, furnished subjects of amusement for all Paris ! But she herself recounted her own blunders with such infinite grace and good-humor, that there was no withstanding her. Bad indeed must have been * Simond. 22 MADAME DE STAEL. the temper that could long resist the winning in- fluence of her amiable manners . ' When she ap- peared the most eagerly engaged in conversation, she could always detect her adversaries at a glance, and was sure to captivate or disarm them as the conversation proceeded. She had a singular de- gree of tact in guessing what reply to make to re- proaches that had not been expressed. She never al- lowed herself to be tedious, and she never indulged in asperity. If a dispute threatened to. be serious, she gave it a playful turn, and by one happy word restored harmony. Tn fact no one would have been encouraged in an attempt to disconcert or vex her ; for as she deeply interested while she amused her hearers, they would have cordially joined against the aggressor ; and could any one have succeeded in silencing her eloquence, he would have despair- ed of being able to supply her place.' M. Necker's wealth, and his daughter's extraor- dinary powers of pleasing, soon attracted suitors. Her parents were extremely ambitious for her ; and the choice was not decided without difficulty ; for she insisted upon not being obliged to leave France, and her mother made it a point that she should not marry a Catholic. We are told that she refus- ed several distinguished men. Sir John Sinclair, in his Correspondence, speaks of a projected union between the son of Lord Rivers and Mademoiselle Necker, and regrets that it did not take place, as it would have withdrawn her family from the vortex of French politics ; but I find no allusion elsewhere MADAME DE STAEL. 23 to this English marriage, and Sir John does not in- form us upon what authority his remark is founded. In her works, Madame deStael constantly express- es great admiration of England, and she chose to give her Corinna an English lover. Whether this taste, so singular in a French- woman, had any- thing to do with her early recollections, I know not. Her fate was at last decided by Eric-Magnus, Baron de Stael Holstein, a Swedish nobleman, sec- retary to the ambassador from the court of Stock- holm. He is said to have had an amiable disposi- tion, a fine person, and courtly manners | bat we are not told that in point of intellect he possessed any distinguished claims to the hand of Mademoi- selle Necker. Like a good many personages in history, he seems to have accidentally fallen upon greatness by pleasing the fancies of his superiors, or coming in contact with their policy. He was a favorite with Marie Antoinette, who constantly ad- vanced his interests by her patronage ; he was like- wise the bosom friend of Count Fersen, who at that time had great influence at court. The queen warmly urged his suit ; Gustavus IH. willing to please Marie Antoinette, and to secure such a large fortune to one of his subjects, recalled the Swedish ambassador, and appointed the Baron de Stael in his place, promising that he should enjoy that high rank for many years; and the lover himself, in order to remove the scru- ples the young lady had with regard to marrying a V 24 MADAME DE STAEL. foreigner, pledged his honor that she should never be urged to quit France. Sir John Sinclair tells us that M. Necker was supposed to favor the match in hopes of being restored to office through the influence of the dueen and Count Fersen ; but such a motive is not at all consistent with the character Madame de Stael has given of her father, who she says, * in every circumstance of his life preferred the least of his duties to the most important of his interests.^ She herself probably imagined the connexion might be of use to her beloved parents ; and her am- bition might have been tempted by her lover's rank as a nobleman and ambassador ; at least it is difficult to account in any other manner for her union witb a foreigner considerably older than herself, and with whom she had few points of sympathy in character, or pursuits ; it was a notorious fact that she was never over-fond of the match, and entered into the necessary arrangements with great coldness. She was married to the Baron de Stael in 1786, and the bridegroom received, on his wedding-day, eighty thousand pounds as her dowry. This union, like most marriages of policy, was far from being a happy one. Had Madame de Stael been a heartless, selfish character, such a des» tiny would have been good enough ; but they were indeed cruel, who assisted in imposing such icy fetters on a soul so ardent, generous, and affection- ate as hers. Nature, as usual, rebelled against the tyranny of ambition. We are told by her friends^, MADAME DE STAEL.' 25 and indeed there is internal evidence in most of her works, that her life was one long sigh for do- mestic love. When she became a mother, she used playfully to say, ' I will ybrce my daughter to make a mar- riage of inclination.' The impetuosity of an unsatisfied spirit gave a singular degree of vehemence to all her attach- ments ; her gratitude and friendship took the color- ing of ardent love. She was extremely sensitive where her heart was concerned ; and at the slight- est neglect, real or imaginary, from her friends, she would exclaim with bitter emphasis, * Never, never have I been loved as I love others !' When she was the most carried away by the ex- citement of society, and the impetuous inspiration of her own spirit, it was impossible for a friend to glide away unperceived by her. This watchful anxiety was the source of frequent reproaches ; she was forever accusing her friends of a diminution in their love. Madame de Saussure once said to her, * Your friends ' have to submit each morning to re- newed charges of coldness and neglect.' ' What matter for that,' she replied, 'if I love them the better every evening V She used to say, ' I would go to the scaffold, in order to try the friendship of those who accom.panied me.' Yet with all her extreme susceptibility of tender- ness and admiration, she was not blind to the slight- est defects. With her, character always passed under a close and rigorous examination ; and if 26 MADAME DE STAEL. she sometimes wounded the vanity of her friends by being too clear-sighted to their imperfections, they were soothed by her enthusiastic admiration of all their great and good qualities. Indeed she might well be forgiven by others, since her acute powers of analysis were directed against her own character with the most unsparing severity. The winter after Madame de Stael's marriage, her father was exiled forty leagues from Paris, and she was with him during the greater part of his absence. In the August following, 1788, he was recalled with added honors, and his daughter, of course, became one of the most important person- ages in France. But while she formed the centre of attraction in the fashionable and intellectual society of Paris, she did not relinquish her taste for literature. In 1789, she published her famous Letters on the Character and Writings of J. J. Rousseau. The judicious will not approve of all the opinions expressed in this book ; and perhaps she herself would have viewed things differently when riper years and maturer judgment had some- what subdued the artificial glare, which youth and romance are so apt to throw over wrong actions and false theories. ' It is, however, a glowing and eloquent tribute to the genius of that extraordinary man ; and the acuteness shown in her remarks on the Emilius, and the Treatise on the Social Con- tract, is truly wonderful in a young woman so much engrossed by the glittering distractions of fashionable life.' MADAME DE STAEL. 27 At first only a few copies were printed for her intimate friends ; but a full edition was soon pub- lished without her consent. The Baron de Grimm, who saw one of the private copies, speaks of it with great admiration as one of the most remarkable productions of the time. Before the year expired we find her involved in anxiety and trouble occasioned by the second exile of her father. His dismission from office excited great clamor among the populace, who regarded him as the friend of liberty and the people. This feeling was openly expressed by closing the thea- tres, as for some great national calamity. The consequence was an almost immediate recall : and Madame de Stael warmly exulted in the triumph of a parent, whom she seems to have regarded with a feeling little short of idolatry. ^ From the moment of his return, in July, 1789, to the period of his final fall from power, in Septem- ber, 1790, M. Necker was all powerful in France ; and Madame de Stael, of course, was a person of proportional consequence in the literary, philosophi- cal, and political society about the court, and in those more troubled circles from which the Revo- lution was lust besinnino; to s.o forth in its most alarming forms. Her situation enabled her to see the sources, however secret, of all the movements that were then agitating the very foundations of civil order in France ; and she had talent to under- stand them with great clearness and truth. She witnessed the violent removal of the kinar to Paris 28 MADAME DE STAEL. on the 6th of October ; she was present at the first meeting of the National Convention, and heard Mirabeau and Barnave ; she followed the proces- sion to Notre Dame, to hear Louis XVI. swear to a constitution, which virtually dethroned him ; and from that period, her mind seems to have re- ceived a political tendency, that it never afterward lost. ' In 1790, she passed a short time with her father at Coppet, but soon returned to Paris. ' She associated, on terms of intimacy, with Tal- leyrand, for whom she wrote the most important part of his Report on Public Instruction, in 1790. She likewise numbered among her friends. La Fay- ette, Narbonne, Sieyes, and other popular leaders.' When, amid the universal consternation, there could be no one found to shelter the proscribed vic- tims of the despotic mob, Madame de Stael had the courage to offer some of them an asylum, hoping the residence of a foreign ambassador would not be searched. She shut them up in the remotest chamber, and herself spent the night in watching the streets. M. de Narbonne was concealed in her house, when the officers of police came to make the much dreaded ' domiciliary visit.' She knew that he could not escape, if a rigorous search were made, and that if taken, he would be beheaded that ve'ry day. She had sufficient presence of mind to keep quite calm. Partly by her eloquence, and partly by a familiar pleasantry, which flattered them, she MADAME DE STAEL. 29 persuaded the men to go away without infringing upon the rights of a foreign ambassador. Dr Bollman, the same generous Hanoverian who afterward attempted to rescue La Fayette from the prison of Olmutz, offered to undertake the dan- gerous business of conveying Narbonne to Eng- land ; and he effected it in safety by means of a passport belonging to one of his friends. As Sweden refused to acknowledge the French Republic, the situation of the Baron de Stael be- came very uncomfortable at Paris ; and he was re- called in 1792, a short time before the death of Gustavus III, In September, 1792, Madame de Stael set out for Switzerland, in a coach and six, with servants in full livery ; she was induced to do this, from the idea that the people would let her depart more freely, if they saw her in the style of an ambassadress. This was ill-judged ; a shabby post-chaise would have conveyed her more safely. A ferocious crowd stopped the horses, calling out loudly that she was carrying away the gold of the na- tion. A gen-d^arme conducted her through half Paris to the Hotel de Ville, on the staircase of which several persons had been massacred. No woman had at that time perished ; but the next day the Princess Lamballe was murdered by the populace. Madame de Stael was three hours in making her way through the crowds that on all sides assailed her with cries of death. They had nothing against her personally, and probably did not know who she was ; but a carriage and liveries, in their eyes, war- 30 MADAME DE STAEL. ranted sentence of execution. She was then preg- nant ; and a gen-d^arme who was placed in the coach, was moved with compassion at her situa- tion and excessive terror ; he promised to defend her at the peril of his life. She says, ' I alighted from my carriage, in the midst of an armed multi- tude, and proceeded under an arch of pikes. In ascending the staircase, which was likewise brist- led with spears, a man pointed toward me the one which he held in his hand ; but my gen-d'arme pushed it away with his sabre. The President of the Commune was Robespierre ; and I breathed again, because I had escaped from the populace ; yet what a protector was Robespierre ! His sec- retary had left his beard untouched for a fortnight, that he might escape all suspicion of aristocracy. I showed my passports, and stated the right I had to depart as ambassadress of Sweden. Luckily, for me, Manuel arrived ; he was a man of good feelings, though he was hurried away by his pas- sions. In an interview, a few days before, I had wrought upon his kind disposition so that he con- sented to save two victims of proscription. He immediately offered to become responsible for me ; and conducting me out of that terrible place, he locked me up with my maid servant in his closet. Here we waited six hours, half dead with hunger and fright. The window of the apartment looked on the Place de Greve, and we saw the assassins returning from the prisons, with their arms bare and bloody, and uttering horrible cries. MADAME DE STAEL. 31 * My coach with its baggage had remained in the middle of the square. I saw a tall man in the dress of a national guard, who for two hours de- fended it from the plunder of the populace ; I won- dered how he could think of such trifling things amid such awful circumstances. In the evening, this man entered my room with Manuel. He was Santerre, the brewer, afterward so notorious for his cruelty. He had several times witnessed my fa- therms distribution of corn among the poor of the Fauyhourg St Antoine, and was willing to show his gratitude, * Manuel bitterly deplored the assassinations that were going on, and which he had not power to prevent. An abyss was opened behind the steps of every man who had acquired any authority, and if he receded he must fall into it. He conducted me home at night in his carriage ; being afraid of losing his popularity by doing it in the day. The lamps were not lighted in the streets, and we met men with torches, the glare of which was more frightful than the darkness. Manuel was often stopped and asked who he was, but when he answered Le Pro- cur eur de la Commune, this Revolutionary dignity was respectfully recognised.' , A new passport was given Madame de Stael, and she was allowed to depart with one maid-servant, and a gen-cVarme to attend her to the frontier. Af- ter some difficulties of a less alarming nature, she arrived at Coppet in safety. During the following year, her feelings were too 33 MADAME DE STAEL. painfully engrossed in watching the approaching . political crisis, to admit of her making any new literary exertion. She and her father having always strongly advo- cated a constitutional form of government, felt identified with the cause of rational freedom, and watched the ruin of the hopes they had formed with sad earnestness and bitter regret. They have been frequently accused by their po- litical enemies of having excited and encouraged the horrible disorders of the Revolution ; indeed the rancor of party-spirit went so far as to accuse Madame de Stael, — the glorious, the amiable Ma- dame de Stael ! -^ of having been among the brutal mob at Versailles, disguised as a Poissarcle. Noth- ing could in fact be more untrue than charges of this description. Zealous friends of the equal rights of man, M. Necker and his sagacious daughter saw plainly that a change was needed in the French government, and no doubt they touched the springs, which set the great machine in motion ; but they could not foresee its frightful accumulation of power, or the ruinous work to which it would be directed. The limited monarchy of England was always a favorite model with Madame de Stael. In her conversation, and in her writings, she has declared that the French people needed such a form of government, and, sooner or later, they would have it. Had the character of Louis XVI. been adapted MADAME DE STAEL. 33 to the crisis in which he lived, her wishes might have been realized ; but she evinced her usual penetra- tion when she said of that monarch, '"He would have made the mildest of despots, or the most con- stitutional of kings ; but he was totally unfit for the period when public opinion was making a transition from one to the other.' To save the royal family from untimely death was the object of Madame de Stael's unceasing prayers and efforts. Having been defeated in a plan to effect their escape from France, we find her during this agitating period, silently awaitmg the progress of events, which she dared not attempt to control ; but when Marie Antoinette was condemned to be beheaded, she could no longer restrain her agonized spirit. In August, 1793, heedless of the dancrer she incurred, she boldly published Reflections on the Process against the Q,ueen. ' A short but most eloquent appeal to the French nation, beseeching them to pause and reflect before they should thus disgrace themselves with the world, and w^ith posterity.' History informs us how entirely this and all other disinterested efforts failed to check the fury of the populace. The Revolution rushed madly on in its infernal course of blood and crime. With the death of Gustavus III. there came a change of politics in Sweden. The Baron de Stael was again sent to Paris, the only ambassador fi*om a monarchy to the new republic. Most of his old friends were proscribed, or imprisoned, and many 3 34 MADAME DE STAEL. of them had perished on the scaffold ; even the family of his wife did not dare to reside in France. To secure popularity in his precarious situation, he gave three thousand francs to the poor of La Croix Rouge, a section particularly distinguished for its republicanism. He could not, however, feel secure amid the frightful scenes that were passing around him ; and he soon hastened back to Sweden, where he remained until after the death of Robespierre, ^ For a short time, during those dreadful months, which have been so appropriately termed the Reign of Terror, Madame de Stael was in England ; and, what is remarkable, she was in England, poor ; for the situation of the two countries at that crisis prevented her receiving the funds ne- cessary for her support. She lived in great re- tirement at Richmond, with two of her country- men no less distinguished than Narbonne and Talleyrand, both, like herself, anxiously watch- ing the progress of affairs in France and hoping for some change that would render it safe for them to return. It is a curious item in the fickle cruelty of the Revolution, that these three persons, who during such a considerable portion of their lives, exercised an influence, not only on their country, but on the world, w^ere now deprived of their accustomed means af subsistence ; and it is wor- thy of notice, as a trait in their national cha- racter, that they were not depressed or discouraged by it. 'All they had, when thrown into the common stock. MADAME DE STAEL. 35 was merely sufficient to purchase a kind of carriage, which would hold but two. As they rode about to see the country, Narbonne and Talleyrand alter- nately mounted as footmen behind, breaking out the glass of the chaise, in order to carry on a con- versation with those inside. Madame de Stael has often said that in these conversations she has wit- nessed and enjoyed more of the play of the highest order of talent than at any other period of her life. Talleyrand came from England to the United States. Narbonne, if I mistake not, went to the continent ; and Madame de Stael ventured back to France, in 1795.' Her husband was again ambassador at Paris, where he remained, calmly receiving the al- ternate insolence and flattery of the populace, until 1799, when he was recalled by the young king, Gustavus Adolphus, All beneath the surface in France was, at that time, heaving and tumultuous ; but men had been so terrified and wearied v/ith the work of blood, that society was for a time restored to external stillness. *At such a period, a mind like Madame de Stael's had a powerful influence. Her saloon was a resort for all the restless politicians of the day, and she was once denounced to the Convention as a person dangerous to the state ; but her character, as wife of a foreign ambassador, protected her ; and she even ventured to publish a pamphlet on the prospect of peace, addressed to Mr Pitt and the French people, which contained remarks oppos- ed to the views of the reisfnins: demasosue. This 3 3 SO 36 MADAME DESTAEL. pamphlet was much praised by Mr Fox in the Eng- lish Parliament. The principal charge brought against her, by the Directory, was the courage and zeal with which she served the suffering emigrants : she would have been imprisoned on this account, had it not been for the friendly exertions of Barras. One day, an emigrant, whose brother was arrest- ed and condemned to be shot, came in great agita- tion to beg her to save his life. She recollected that she had some acquaintance with General Lemoine, who had a right to suspend the judgments of the military commission. Thanking Heaven for the idea, she instantly went to his house. At first he abruptly refused her petition. She says, ' My heart throbbed at the sight of that broth- er, who might think that I was not employing the words best fitted to obtain what I asked, I ¥/as afraid of saying too much or too little ; of losing the fatal hour, after which all would be over ; or of neglecting an argument, which might prove suc- cessful. I looked by turns at the clock and the General to see whether his soul or time would ap- proach the term most quickly. Twice he took the pen to sign a reprieve, and twice the fear of com- mitting himself restrained him. At last, he was unable to refuse us ; and may heaven shower bless- ings on him for the deed. The reprieve arrived in season, and innocence was saved !' In 1796, Madame de Stael was summoned to Coppet to attend the death-bed of her mother. She MADAME DE STAEL. 37 has given us a very interesting account of her fa- ther's unwearied tenderness toward his dying wife, in the Preface to M. Necker's MSS. published by her after his death. She remained to soothe her father under his severe affliction, for nearly a year. During this time, she wrote her Essay on ^ the Passions, divided into two parts : 1st, their Influence on the Happiness of Individuals ; 2d, on the Happiness of Nations. This work was suggested by the fearful scenes of the French Revolution, and probably could not have been written except by one who had witnessed the reckless violence and unnat- ural excitement of that awful period. It bears the marks of her peculiar strength, originality, and fer- vor; but it is accused of great metaphysical obscur- ity, and of presenting too dark and lurid a pic- (. lure of the human mind. Mr Jeffry, in a^ review of Madame de Stael, says, ' She always represents men a great deal more unhappy, more depraved, and more energetic, than they are ; she varnishes all her pictures with the glare of an extravagant enthusiasm.' This is undoubtedly just ; but it is excused by the peculiar circumstances of the times in which she lived, acting on her ardent feelings and power- ful imagination. No one but a witness of the French Revolution could have ranked a love of guilt and violence among the inherent passions of our nature. ^^ The second part, intended to embrace the prin- cipal object of the work, was never finished. We have already mentioned that Madame de 38 MADAME DE STAEL. Stael's affections were supposed to have small share in her marriage. The coolness of her feelings to- Avard the Baron de Stael was considerably increas- ed by his heedless extravagance. On his wedding- day he is said to have assigned all his ministerial allowance to his friend, Count Fersen ; and the princely dowry he received with his wife was soon nearly dissipated by his thoughtless expenditure. Such was the embarrassment of his affairs, that Madame de Stael thought it a duty to place herself and her three children under the protection of her father. Thus the projectors of this match met the usual fate of those, who attempt to thwart nature, and take destiny out of the hands of Providence : it not only made the parties wretched, but it did not even serve the ambitious purposes for which the sacrifice is supposed to have been made. Her separation from her husband was not of long continuance. Illness, and approaching age required a wife's attentions; and Madame de Stael, true to the kind impulses of her generous nature, immediately returned to him. As soon as he could bear removal, she attempted, by slow journeys, to bring him to her father's residence, that she and her children might make the evening of his days as cheerful as possible. It was, however, destined to be otherwise ; he died at Poligni, on his way to Coppet, May 9th, 1802. * Madame de Stael's Essays on the Passions led her mind to a series of inquiries, which ended in her celebrated Essay on Literature, considered in MADAME DE STAEL. 39 its relations with the Social Institutions. She devoted four years of severe labor to this work. It was begun at Coppet in 1796, and publish- ed in 1800. This great subject is divided into two parts : 1st, the Influence of Religion, Manners and Laws on Literature, with the reciprocal Influ- ence of Literature on Religion, Manners and Laws ; and 2d, the existing state and future prospects of all in France at the time she wrote. It is a bold and powerful review, by masses, of the relation of society to literature and of literature to society, from the time of Homer to the year 1789. The theory of the perfectibility of the human race, early struck the imagination of Madame de Stael ; and her efforts to prove this theory by the history of the world, and the progress of literature, has led her into difficulties, and mistakes in this important work ; it is, however, a beautiful whole , and deserv- edly placed her in the first rank among the writers of the age. * Immediately after the completion of this re- markable book, Madame de Stael went to Paris, where she arrived on the 9th of November, 1799 — the very day that placed the destiny of France in the hands of Bonaparte.' Her imagination seems to have been, at first, dazzled by the military glory of Napoleon. Lavalette was introduced to her at Talleyrand's, at the time when everybody was talk- ing of the brilliant campaigns in Italy. He says, * During dinner, the praises Madame de Stael lav- ished on the conqueror of Italy, had all the wildness, •v 40 MADAME BE STAEL. romance, and exaggeration of poetry. When we left the table, the company withdrew to a small room to look at the portrait of the hero ; and as I stepped back to let her walk in, she said, " How shall I dare, to pass before an aid-de-camp of Bona- parte !" My confusion was so great that she also felt a little of it, and Talleyrand laughed at us.' In her work on the French Revolution, she says, ' It was with a sentiment of great admiration that I first saw Bonaparte at Paris. I could not find words to reply to him when he came to me to say that he had sought my father at Coppet, and regretted having passed through Switzerland with- out seeing him. But when I was a little recover- ed from the confusion of admiration, a strongly- marked sentiment of fear succeeded. He, at that time, had no power ; the fear he inspired was caus- ed only by the singular effect of his person upon nearly all who approached him. Far from recov- ering my confidence at seeing him more frequently, he constantly intimidated me more and more. I had a confused feeling that no emotion of the heart could act upon him. He regarded a human being as a thing, not as a fellow-creature. For him nothing existed but himself Every time he spoke, I was struck with his superiority ; his discourse had no similitude to that of intellectual and cultivated men ; but it indicated an acute perception of cir- cumstances, such as the sportsman has of the game he pursues. He related the political and military Qvents of his life in a very interesting manner ; he MADAME DE ST A EL. 41 had even something of Italian imagination in nar- ratives which admitted of gayety. But nothing could overcome my invincible aversion to v/hat I perceived in his character. There was in him a profound irony, from which nothing grand or beau- tiful escaped ; his wit was like the cold, sharp sword in romance, which froze the wound it inflict- ed. I could never breathe freely in his presence. I examined him with attention ; but when he ob- served that my looks were fixed upon him, he had the art of taking away all expression from his eyes, as if they had been suddenly changed to marble.' Notwithstanding these feelings of fear and dis- trust, Madame de Stael seems to have been willing to produce an impression upon the First Consul. This might have originated in ambition to obtain the confidence of a man likely to possess so much political power ; or in vanity, slightly piqued by the indifference with which he treated her, in common with all other women ; for indifference was a thino- to which Madame de Stael was entirely unaccus- tomed. Sir Walter Scott tells us, that she once asked Bonaparte, rather abruptly, in the middle of a brilliant party at Talleyrand's, ' whom he considered the greatest woman in the world, alive or dead V * Her, madam, who has borne the most children,' replied Bonaparte, with much appearance of sim- plicity. Disconcerted by the reply, she observed, that ' he was reported not to be a great admirer of the fair sex.' ' I am very fond of my wife, madam/ 42 MADAME DE ST A EL. he replied, with one of those brief yet piquant ob- servations, which adjourned a debate as promptly as one of his characteristic manoeuvres would have ended a battle.' According to Bourrienne, this sort of abruptness towards ladies was nothing unusual in Napoleon. He tells us that he often indulged in such rude ex- clamations as the following, — ' How red your elbows are ! ' ' What a strange head-dress you wear!' ' Pray, tell me if you ever change your gown ! ' &LC. An anecdote Madame de Stael herself tells in her ten years' exile, betrays a wish that Bonaparte should a1 least be afraid of her talents. ' I was invited to General Berthier's one day,' says she, ' when the First Consul was to be of the party. As I knew he had expressed himself unfavorably about me, it occurred to me, that he might accost me with some of those rude expressions, which he often took pleasure in addressing to ladies, even when they paid court to him ; for this reason, I wrote a num- ber of tart and piquant replies to what I supposed he might say. Had he chosen to insult me, it would have shown a want both of character and understanding to have been taken by surprise ; and as no person could be sure of being unembarrassed in the presence of such a man, I prepared myself beforehand to brave him. Fortunately, the precau- tion was unnecessary ; he only addressed the most common questions to me.' In fact, to Bonaparte's habitual contempt of wo- MADAME DE STAEL. 43 men, was added some fear of Madame de StaeTs penetration, as well as her politics. ' He was dis- posed to repel the advances of one, whose views were so shrewd, and her observation so keen, while her sex permitted her to push her inquiries farther than one man might have dared to do in conversa- tion with another.' Besides all this, she was the only writer of any notoriety in France, who had never in any way al- luded to him or his government ; and, like her, he probably would have preferred sarcasm to silence. Moreover, Bonaparte, for a great man, had some very little feelings ; and perhaps he indulged some- what of jealousy toward one of the weaker sex, who in his own capital was such a powerful com- petitor for fame. He judged rightly when he supposed that her great abilities would all be exerted in opposition to his ambitious views. *' Her peculiar position in so- ciety brought her in contact with almost every per- son of rank and influence ; and this, united with her own uncommon sagacity, soon enabled her to discover his real character and intentions. From the moment she understood him, she became one of the most active and determined of his opposers.' In the beginning of his reign, when policy com- pelled him to be gradual in his usurpation of power, she was not a little troublesome to him. In the or- ganization of the new government, she is said to have fairly out-manoeuvred him, and to have plac- ed the celebrated Benjamin Constant in one of the assemblies, in spite of his efforts to the contrary. 44 MADAME DE STAEL. Bonaparte kept close watch upon her ; and his spies soon informed him that people always left Madame de Stael's house with less confidence in him, than they had when they entered it. Joseph Bonaparte said to her, ' My brother com- plains of you. He asked rne yesterday, "Why does not Madame de Stael attach herself to my gov- ernment 1 Does she want the payment of her fath- er's deposit ? I will give orders for it. Does she wish for a residence in Paris ? I will allow it her. In short, what is it that she wishes ? " ' Madame de Stael replied, ' The question is not what J ivishj but what I think.' She says, ' I know not wheth- er Joseph reported this answer to Napoleon ; but if he did, I am certain he attached no meaning to it ; for he believes in the sincerity of no one's opin- ions ; he considers every kind of morality as noth- ing more than a form, or as the regular means of forwarding selfish and ambitious views. ' Integrity, whether encountered in individuals or nations, was the only thing for which he knew not how to calculate ; his artifices were disconcerted by honesty, as evil spirits are exorcised by the sign of the cross.' A zealous friend of liberty, so clear-sighted to his views, and so openly his enemy, was of course a very inconvenient obstacle in the path of Napo- leon. Being anxious for a pretext to banish her, he seized upon the first that offered, which happen- ed to be the publication of a political pamphlet by her father, in 1802. On the pretence that she had MADAME DE STAEL. 45 contributed to the falsehoods, which he said it con- tained, he requested Talleyrand to inform her that she must quit Paris. This was a delicate office for an old acquaintance to perform ; but Talleyrand was even then used to difficult positions. His po- litical history has proved that no fall, however pre- cipitate, can bewilder the selfish acuteness of his faculties, or impair the marvellous pliancy of his motions : his attachment to places rather than per- sons is another, and stronger point of resemblance, between him and a certain household animal. An anecdote which has been often repeated is a good specimen of his diplomatic adroitness : Mad- ame de Stael, being in a boat with him and Mad- ame Grand, afterward his wife, put his gallantry to the proof by asking him ' v»^hich he would try to save, if they should both chance to fall in the water ? ' ' My dear madam,' replied Talleyrand, ' I should be so sure that you v»^ould knovv' how to swim.' His characteristic finesse was shown in his man- ner of performing the embarrassing office assigned him by the First Consul. He called upon Madame de Stael and after a few compliments, said, ' I hear, madam, you are going to take a journey.' ' Oh, no ! it is a mistake, I have no such intention.' * Pardon me, I was informed that you were going to Switzerland.' ' I have no such project, I as- sure you.' ' But I have been told, on the best au- thority, that you would quit Paris in three days.' Madam.e de Stael took the hint, and went to Coppet. 46 . MADAME DE STAEL. In the meantime, however, before she left Paris, she completed a novel in six volumes, under the title of Delphine, which was published in 1802. This work is an imitation of Rousseau's Nouvelle Heloise. Being written in the form of letters, it afforded facilities for embodying animated descrip- tions of Parisian society, and the sparkling say- ings of the moment. But things of this sort, ' like the rich wines of the south though delicious in their native soil, lose their spirit by transportation.' Delphine, is a brilliant and unhappy being, gov- erned by her feelings, and misled by her haughty sense of freedom. The reader at once suspects that, under a slight veil of fiction, the author is her own heroine : and though there are some intention- al points of difference, I presume that Delphine is a pretty correct portrait of Madame de Stael's im- petuous and susceptible character at the time she wrote it. ' This book has all the extravao;ance and immorality of the Nouvelle Heloise, but is inferior to its model in eloquence and enthusiasm.' In 1803, Madame de Stael ventured to reside within ten leagues of Paris, occasionally going there, to visit the museum and the theatres. Some of her enemies informed Bonaparte that she received a great many visiters, and he immediately banished her to the distance of forty leagues from the capital ; a sentence which was rigorously enforced. This severity excited the more remark as she was the first woman exiled by Bonaparte. A panegyrist of Napoleon has implied that she incurred his hatred MADAME DE STAEL 47 by persecuting him with her love ; that she was al- ways telling him none but an intellectual woman was fit to be his mate, that genius should unite with genius, &lc. This is unquestionably a fable. If she made such remarks to the hero, it could not have been with a view to herself; for he married Josephine several years before the death of the Baron de Stael. Her own account of her feelings towards Bonaparte is sufficiently frank and explicit to warrant our be- lief in its truth. Joseph Bonaparte, of whose uniform kindness Madame de Stael speaks very gratefully, interceded in her favor ; and his wife even dared to invite her to spend a few days at their country-seat, at the very time when she was the object of Napoleon's perse- cution. Bonaparte knew enough of Madame de Stael's character to be aware that an exile from Paris would be a most terrible calamity. The excitement of society was almost as necessary to her existence as the air she breathed ; reluctant to relinquish it, she lingered near the metropolis as long as she dared, before taking her final departure for Switzerland. Nothing could be more intimate and delightful than the friendship between M. Necker and his highly-gifted daughter ; but notwithstanding the happiness she enjoyed in his society, and the de- light she took in the education of her children, Madame de Stael sighed for the intellectual ex- citements of Paris. She had been so long accus- 48 MADAME DE ST A EL. tomed to society, that it became an indispensable impulse to her genius and her gayety. She reproach- ed herself for these feelings, and made strong efforts to become habituated to the monotony of a seclud- ed life. But she no longer seemed like herself. Madame de Stael, thus tamed, was no longer Mad- ame de Stael. Her father, conscious how much she needed the exhilarating influence of society, had always en- couraged her visits to Paris ; and now that she was exiled from the scene of so many triumphs and so much enjoyment, he strongly favored her project of visiting Germany. Accordingly, in the winter of 1803, she went to Frankfort, Weimar, and Berlin. At Frankfort, her daughter, then five years old, was taken dangerously ill. Madame de Stael knew no one in that city, and v/as ignorant of the Ian guage ; even the physician to whose care she entrust ed the child scarcely spoke a word of French Speaking of her distress on this occasion, she ex- claims, ' Oh, how my father shared with me in all my trouble ! What letters he wrote me ! What a number of consultations of physicians, all copied with his own hand, he sent me from Geneva ! ' The child recovered, and she proceeded to Wei- mar, so justly called the Athens of Germany ; and afterward to Berlin, where she was received with distinguished kindness by the king and queen, and the young prince Louis. At Weimar she writes, ' I re- sumed my courage on seeing, through all the diffi- culties of the language, the immense intellectual MADAME DE STAEL. 49 riches that existed out of France. I learned to read German ; I listened attentively to Goethe and Wie- land, who, fortunately for me, spoke French extreme- ly well. I comprehended the mind and genius of Schiller, in spite of the difficulty he felt in express- ing himself in a foreign language. The society of the Duke and Duchess of Weimar pleased me ex- ceedingly. I passed three months there, during which the study of German literature gave me all the occupation my mind required. My father wish- ed me to pass the winter in Germany, and not re- tarn to him until spring. Alas ! alas ! how puch I calculated on carrying back to him the harvest of new ideas which I was going to collect in this journey. He was frequently telling me that my letters and conversation were all that kept up his connexion with the world. His active and pene- trating mind excited me to think, for the sake of the pleasure of talking to him. If I observed, it was to convey my impressions to him ; if I listened, it was to repeat to him.' M. de Bonstetten, vv^lio used to see her corres- pondence with her father, says, ' The letters she wrote him had more spirit, ease, eloquence, and acuteness of observation, than anything she ever published.' It is deeply to be regretted that M. Necker, from motives of political caution, always burned these letters as soon as they had been seen by her most intimate friends. Madame de Saus- sure speaks of them as indescribably charming — full of striking anecdotes, and pictorial sketches. 4 50 MADAME DESTAEL. She says, ' Nothing could surpass them, but Mad- ame de Stael's first interYiews with her father, after she had been separated from him by a temporary absence. The deep emotion, which she tried to repress, lest it should excite him too much, spread itself like a torrent .over all her conversation. She talked of men and things — discussed governments — and described the effects she herself had pro- duced — with an eager joy, that continually over- flowed in caresses and tears. Everything she re- counted was made to bear some relation to him. The characters she portrayed were brought in lively contrast with his intelligence, his goodness, and his perfect integrity. However foreign the subject, it always conveyed some indirect eulogium, or some expression of tenderness, to her beloved father. What a paternal glory illuminated M. Necker's countenance as he looked and listened ! How joy sparkled in those eyes, which never lost the fire of youth ! Not that he believed her lavish praise — but in it he read his daughter's heart, and his own de- lighted in her prodigious endowments.' The same lady relates the following anecdote, somewhat laughable in itself, but interesting as a specimen of Madame de Stael's excessive sensibili- ty in everything that related to her father: ' M. Necker had sent his carriage to Geneva for the purpose of bringing myself and children to Coppet. It was evening when I left home, and the carriage was overturned in a ditch. No one was injured; but as it took some time to refit the MADAME DE STAEL. 51 carriage, it was quite late when we arrived at Cop- pet. Madame de Stael was alone in the parlor, anxiously awaiting our arrival. As soon as I be- gan to speak of our accident, she eagerly interrupt- ed me with, " How did you come ? " " In your fath- er's carriage." " Yes, yes, I know that — but who brought you ? " " Richard, the coachman." " Good Heavens ! " she exclaimed, " What if he should up- set my father ! " ' She rung the bell violently, and ordered the coachman to be called. The man being out of the way, she was obliged to wait a moment, during which time, she walked the room in great agitation. " My poor father !" she repeated, " what if he should be upset ? At your age, and that of your children, it is nothino; at all. But at his ag;e — and so large as he is — and into a ditch, too ! Perhaps he would have remained there a long time, call- ing, and calling in vain. My poor father." ' When the coachman appeared, I was very curi- ous to see how she would find vent for her strong emotions ; for she was proverbially very kind and affable to her domestics. She advanced solemnly toward him, and in a voice somewhat stifled, but which gradually became very loud, she said, " Rich- ard, have you ever heard that I have a great deal of talent?" The man stared in amazement. " I say," she repeated, " do you knov/ that I have a great deal of talent?" He remained silent, and confus- ed. ^' Learn then that I have talent, great talent — prodigious talent! and I will make use of the 53 MADAME DE STAEL. whole of it, to keep you shut up in a dungeon all your life, if you ever upset my father !" ' Alas ! this sacred tie, the strongest, perhaps, that ever bound the heartsof parent and child, was soon to be burst asunder. At Berlin, Madame de Stael was suddenly stopped in her travels, by the news of her father's dangerous illness. She hastened back with an impatience that would fain have an- nihilated time and space ; but he died before she ar- rived. This event happened in April, 1804. At first, she refused to believe the tidings. She was herself so full of life, that she could not realize death. Her father had such remarkable freshness of imagination, such cheerfulness, such entire sym- pathy with youthful feeling, that she forgot the difference in their ages. She could not bear to think of him as old ; and once, when she heard a person call him so, she resented it highly, and said she never wished to see anybody who repeat- ed such words. And now, when they told her that the old man was gathered to his fathers, she could not, and she would not believe it. Madame de Saussure was at Coppet when M. Necker died ; and as soon as her services to him were ended, she went to meet her friend, on her melancholy return from Germany, under the pro- tection of M. de Schlegel, her son's German tutor. She says, the convulsive agony of her grief was ab- solutely frightful to witness ; it seemed as if life must have perished in the struggle. Her friends tried every art to soothe her ; and sometimes for a MADAME DE STAEL. 53 moment she appeared to give herself up to her usual animation and eloquence ; but her trembling hands, and quivering lips soon betrayed the inter- nal conflict, and the transient calm was succeeded by a violent burst of anguish. Yet even during these trying moments, she displayed her character- istic kindness of heart : she constantly tried to check her sorrow, that she might give such a turn to the conversation as would put M. de Schlegel at his ease, and enable him to show his great abili- ties to advantage. The impression produced upon Madame de Stael by her father's death seems to have been as deep and abiding, as it was po^verful. Through her whole life, she carried him in her heart. She be- lieved that his spirit was her guardian angel ; and when her thoughts were most pure and elevated, she said it was because he was with her . She in- voked him in her prayers, and when any happy event occurred, she used to say with a sort of joy- ful sadness, ' My father has procured this for me.' His miniature became an object of superstitious love. Once, and once only, she parted with it, for a short time. Havino; herself found great con- solation, durino- illness, in lookino; at those beloved features, she sent it to her sick daughter, imagin- ing it would have the same effect upon her ; tell- ing her in her letter, ' Look upon that, and it will comfort you in your sufferings.' To the latest period of her life, the sight of an old man affected her, because it reminded her of 54 MADAME BE STAEL. her father ; and the lavishness with which she gave her sympathy and her purse to the distresses of .the aged proved the fervor of her filial recollec- tions. Though Madame de Stael's thoughts had al- ways been busy with the world, she was never destitute of religious sensibility. Conscious as she was of her intellectual strength, she did not at- tempt to wrestle with the mysteries of God. Her beautiful mind inclined rather to reverence and su- perstition than to unbelief No doubt, religion was with her more a matter of feeling, than of faith ; but she respected the feeling, and never suffered the pride of reason to expel it from her heart. There is something beautifully pathetic in the exclamation that burst from her, when her lit- tle daughter v/as dangerously ill at Frankfort : ' Oh, what would become of a mother, trembling for the life of her child, if it were not for prayer !' Her father's death gave a more permanent in- fluence to such feelings, If I may use the expres- sion, her character became less volcanic, while it lost nothing of its power. Anxious to be to her children what he had been to her, she spared no pains to impress them with what was excellent in his character. She fre- quently read with them moral and religious books. The writings of Fenelon afforded her great conso- lation and delight; and during the last years of her life, the, ' Imitation of Jesus Christ,' by Thom- as a Kempis, was her favorite volume. She was a MADAME DE STAEL. 55 most affectionate and devoted mother, and singu- larly beloved by her children. On this subject we have the testimony of her daughter, the Duchess de Broglie, who in talent and character is said to be worthy of her high descent. She says, ' My mother attached great importance to our happi- ness in childhood, and affectionately shared all our little griefs. When I was twelve years old, she used to talk to me as to an equal ; and nothing gave me such delight as half an hour's intimate conversation with her. It elevated me at once, gave me new life, and inspired me with courage in all my studies. She herself heard my lessons every day ; she would not procure a governess, even in the midst of her greatest troubles. She taught us to love and pity her, without ever diminishing our reverence. Never was there a mother who at once inspired so much confidence, and so much respect.' During the life-time of M. Necker, Madame de Stael remained in childish ignorance of all the common affairs of life. She was in the habit of applying to him for advice about everything, even her dress. The unavoidable result was that she was very improvident. Her father used to com- pare her to a savage, who would sell his hut in the morning, without thinking what would become of him at night. When her guide and support was taken from her, no wonder that she felt as if it would be absolutely impossible for her to do anything without him. 56 MADAME DE STAEL. " For a short time she gave herself up to the most discouraging fancies. She thought her fortune would be wasted, her children would not be educa- ted, her servants would not obey her, — in short, that everything would go wrong. But her anxiety to do everything as he would have done it, gave her a motive for exertion, and inspired her with strength. She administered upon his estate with remarkable ability, and arranged her affairs with a most scrupu- i lous regard to the future interests of her children. Her first literary employment after the death of her father was a tribute to his memory. ' She collected his MSS. and published them, accom- panied with a most eloquent and interesting memoir, full of the first deep impressions of her sorrow.' M. Constant, the celebrated statesman and writer, has said of this preface, ' Perhaps I deceive my- self ; but those pages appear to me more likely to lead one to a true knowledge of her character, and to endear her to those who knew her not, than her most eloquent writings on any other subject ; for her whole mind and heart are there displayed. The delicacy of her perceptions, the astonishing variety of her thought, the ardor of her eloquence, the weight of her judgment, the reality of her enthusiasm, her love of liberty and justice, her pas- sionate sensibility, the melancholy which often marked even her purely literary writings ; — all these are concentrated here, to express a single feeling, to call forth the sympathy of others in a single sentiment, Nowhere else has she treated MADAME DE STAEL. 57 a subject, with all the resources of her intellect, all the depth of her feeling, and without being di- verted by a single thought of a less absorbing nature.' When this occupation was finished, her desolate heart fed upon its own feelings, until she could no longer endure the melancholy associations inspired by everything around her. Her health as well as her spirits sunk rapidly under the oppression of grief. Her friends advis- ed new scenes and chancre of climate. Paris was still closed ao;ainst her : though M. Necker, with his dying hand, had written to assure Bonaparte that his daughter had no share in his political pam- phlet, and to beseech that her sentence of exile might be repealed after his death. Thus situated, her thoughts turned toward Italy. Sismondi accompanied her in this journey. They arrived just when the fresh glory of a southern spring mantled the earth and the heavens. She found a renovating influence in the beautiful sky and the balmy climate of this lovely land, which she, with touching superstition, ascribed to the in- tercession of her father. ' She passed more than a year in Italy ; visiting Milan, Venice, Florence, Rome, Naples, and other more inconsiderable cities, with lively interest and great minuteness of obser- vation. The impression produced by her talent and character is still fresh in the memories of those who saw her.' , She returned to Switzerland in the summer of 58 MADAME DE STAEL. 1805 and passed a year among her friends at Coppet and Geneva; during this period she began Corinna, the splendid record which she has left the world of her visit to Italy. This work was published in 1802, and perhaps obtained more ex- tensive and immeditate fame than anything she ever wrote. It was received with one burst of applause by all the literati of Europe. Mr Jeffry, in his review of it, pronounced Madame de Stael * the greatest writer in Prance, after the time of Voltaire and Rousseau ; and the greatest female writer of any age, or country.' *~ Like Rousseau and Byron, Madame de Stael wrote from the impulses of her own heart, and threw something of herself into all her fictions In Corinna, ' a child of the sun,' all genius and sen- sibility, forever departing from the line marked out by custom, and mourning over her waywardness as if it were guilt, vve at once recognise Madame de Stael herself, with all her sweeping energies and irresistible inspiration. This book is character- ized in an eminent degree by Madame de Stael's peculiar excellences, grandeur and pathos. As a national painting it is more fascinating than as a romance : Italy, in all the freshness of its present beauty, and the magnificence of its glorious recol- ^ lections is perfectly embabiied by her genius. Her eldest son, Augustus, Baron de Stael, was at this time in Paris, pursuing his studies prepara- tory to entering the Polytechnic school ; and after the completion of Corinna, Madame de StaeL, in MADAME DE STAEL. 59 order to be as near him as possible, went to reside at Auxerre, and afterward at Rouen, from whence she could daily send to Paris. She led a very re- tired life, and was extremely prudent about inter- meddling with politics ; those, who had anything to hope or to fear from the Emperor, did not dare to maintain any intercourse with her ; and of course she was not thronged with visiters, in those days of despotism and servility ; all she wished, was liberty to superintend the publication of Corinna, and to watch over the education of her son. But all this moderation and caution did not sat- isfy Bonaparte. He wanted to interdict her writ- ing anything, even if it were, like Corinna, totally unconnected with politics. She was again banish- ed from France ; and, by a sad coincidence, she received the order on the ninth of April, the an- niversary of her father's death. When she return- ed to Coppet, all her movements were watched by the spies of government, so that existence became a complete state of bondage. To use her own words, she was ' tormented in all the interests and relations of life and on all the sensible points of her character.' She still had warm and devoted friends, who could not be withdrawn from her by motives of interest, or fear ; but with all the consolations of fame and friendship, it was sufficiently inconven- ient and harassing to be thus fettered and annoyed. As a means of employing her mind, which, ever since the death of her father, had been strongly prone to indulge in images of gloom and terror^ 60 MADAME DE STAEL. Madame de Stael industriously continued the study of German literature and philosophy. Her ac- quaintance with M. de Schlegel and M. Villers (the author of an admirable book on the Reforma- tion, which obtained the prize from the French Academy,) afforded her remarkable facilities for perfecting herself in the German language. Her first visit had brought her into delightful compan- ionship with most of the great minds in North Germany ; but she deemed it necessary to visit the South, before she completed a work, which she had long had in contemplation. In company with her beautiful friend, Madame Recamier, she passed the winter of 1807 at Vienna, receiving the same flattering distinctions from the great and the gifted, which had everywhere attended her footsteps. She began her celebrated book on Germany in the country itself, and surrounded by every facility for giving a correct picture of its literature, man- ners, and national character ; as we have just stat- ed, she made a second visit, for the purpose of more thorough investigation ; and she devoted yet^two more years to it after her return ; making a period of about six years from the time of its commence- ment to its final completion. It is true, this ardu- ous labor was not continued uninterruptedly : she had in the meanwhile, made her visit to Italy, and written Corinna ; and while she was employed with her great work on Germany, she composed and played at Coppet the greater part of the little pieces, which are now collected in the sixteenth volume of MADAME DE STA EL. 61 her works, under the title of Dramatic Essays. At the beginning of the summer, of 1810, she finished the tliree volumes of Germany, and went to reside just without forty leagues from Paris, in order to superintend its publication. She says, ' I fixed myself at a farm called Fosse, which a generous friend lent me. The house was inhabited by a Vendean soldier, who certainly did not keep it in the nicest order, but who had a loyal good-nature that made everything easy, and an originality of char- acter that was very amusing. Scarcely had we ar- rived, when an Italian musician, whom I had with me to give lessons to my daughter, began playing upon the guitar ; and Madame Recamier's sweet voice accompanied my daughter upon the harp. The peasants collected round the windows, aston- ished to hear this colony of troubadours, which had come to enliven the solitude of their master. Cer- tainly this intimate assemblage, this solitary resi- dence, this agreeable occupation, did no harm to any one. We had imagined the idea of sitting round a green table after dinner, and writing letters to each other instead of conversing. These varied and multiplied feie5-d-^e^es amused us so much, that we were impatient to get from table, where we were talking, in order to go and write to one another. When any strangers came in, we could not bear the interruption of our habits ; and our penny-post al- ways went its round. The inhabitants of the neigh- boring town v.ere somewhat astonished at these new manners, and looked upon them as pedantic; 62 MADAMEDESTAEL though in fact, it was merely a resource against the monotony of solitude. One day a gentleman, who had never thought of anything in his life but hunting, came to take my boys with him into the woods ; he remained some time seated at our ac- tive, but silent table. Madame Recamier wrote a little note to this jolly sportsman, in order that he might not be too much a stranger to the circle in which he was placed. He excused himself from receiving it, assuring us that he never could read writing by daylight. We afterward laughed not a little at the disappointment our beautiful friend had met with in her benevolent coquetry ; and thought that a billet from her hand would not often have met such a fate. Our life passed in this quiet man- ner ; and, if I may judge by myself, none of us found it burdensome. ' I wished to go and see the Opera of Cinderilla represented at a paltry provincial theatre at Blois. Coming out of the theatre on foot, the people fol- lowed me in crowds, more from curiosity to see the woinan Bonaparte had exiled, than from any other motive. This kiiid of celebrity, which I owed to misfortune much more than to talent, displeased the minister of police, who wroie to the Prefect of Loire that I was surrounded by a court. " Certainly," said I to the Prefect, "it is not power that gives me a court." * On the 23d of September, I corrected the last proof of Germany ; after six years' labor, I felt great delight in writing the word end. I made a MADAME DE ST A EL. 63 list of one hundred persons to whom I wished to send copies in different parts of Europe.' The work passed the censorship prescribed by law', and Madame de Stael, supposing everything was satis- factorily arranged, went with her family to visit her friend M. de Montmorency, at his residence about five leagues from Blois. This gentleman could claim the oldest hereditary ranii of any nobleman in France; being able to trace back his pedigree, through a long line of glorious ancestry, to the first Baron of Christendom, in the time of Charlemagne. Madame de Stael says, ' He was a pious man, only occupied in this world with making himself fit for heaven ; in his conversation with me he never paid any attention to the affairs of the day, but only sought to do good to my soul.' Madame de Stael, after having passed a delight- ful day amid the magnificent forests and historical recollections of this ancient castle, retired to rest. In the night, M. de Montmorency was awakened by the arrival of Augustus, Baron de Stael, v/ho came to inform him that his mother's book on Ger» many was likely to be destroyed, in consequence of a new edict, which had very much the appearance of being made on purpose for the occasion. Her son, as soon as he had done" his errand, left M. de Montmorency to soften the blow as much as possi- ble, but to urge his mother to return immediately after she had taken breakfast ; he himself went back before day-light to see that her papers were not seized by the imperial police. Luckily, the proof- 64 MADAME DE STAEL. sheets of her valuable work were saved. Some further notes on Germany she had with her in a small portable desk in the carriage. As they drew near her habitation she gave the desk to her young- est son, who jumped over a wall, and carried it into the house through the garden. Miss Randall, an English lady, an excellent and much beloved friend, came to meet her on the road, to console her as much as she could under this great disappoint- ment. A file of soldiers were sent to her publish- er's, to destroy every sheet of the ten thousand copies that had been printed. She was required to give upherMSS. and quit France in twentyfour hours. In her Ten Years' Exile, Madame de Stael drily remarks, ' It v/as the custom of Bonaparte to or- der conscripts and icomen to be in readiness to quit France in twentyfour hours.' She had given up some rough notes of her work to the police, but the spies of government had done their duty so well, that they knew there was a copy saved ; they could tell the exact number of proof- sheets that had been sent to her by the publisher, and the exact number she had returned. She did not pretend to deny the fact ; but she told them she had placed the copy out of her hands, and that she neither could nor would put it in their power. The severity used on this occasion was as un- necessary as it was cruel, for her book on Germany contained nothing to give offence to the government. Indeed the only fault pretended to be found with it was that it was purely literary, and contained no MADAME DE STAEL. 65 mention of the Emperor or his wars in that coun- try.' The minister of police gave out, ' in corsair terms, that if Madame de Stael, on her return to Coppet should venture one foot within forty leagues of Paris she was aoood prize.' When arrived at Coppet, she received express orders not to go more than four leagues from her own house ; and t is was enforced with so much rigor, that having one day accidentally extended her ride a little beyond her limits, the military police were sent Al speed to brincr her back. If Napoleon fait ^i/tered that all the sovereigns of Europe were obUged ti combine to kesp one man on a barren island, Madame de Stael might well consider it no small compliment for one w^o- man to be able to inspire with fear the mighty troubler of the world's peace.* She was often informed by the creatures of gov- ernment that she might easily put a i end to the inconveniences she suffered, by publishing a few pa'-esin praise of the emperor ; but Madame de Statl, though her exile had cost her many, i-^^any hours of depression and anxiety, was too noble thus to bow the knee to a tyrant, whom her heart disliked, and her conscience disapproved. * Bonaparte dreaded an epigram, pointed against himself, more than he di-eaded ' infernal machines.' When he was told that no woman, however talented, could shake the foun- dation of his power, he replied, ' Madame de ~ t el carries a qviiver full of arrows, that would hit a man if he were seated on a r-iinbow.' 63 M ADAME DE STAEL. ¥/hen the prefect of Geneva urged her to cele- brate in verse the birth of the king of Rome, she told him that if she did such a ridiculous thing, she should confine herself to wishing him a good nurse. M. de Schlegel, who for eight years had been the tutor of her sons, wa& compelled to leave Swit- zerland. The best pretence the prefect could in- vent, on the spur of the occasion, was, that he was not French in his feeling, because he preferred the Phedra of Euripides to the Phedra of Racine. The real fact was, Bonaparte knew that his ani- mated conversation cheered her solitude, and that to deprive her of society was almost to deprive her of life. Few in this selfish world would visit one, who thus, ' carried about with her the contagion of mis- fortune ;' and she was even fearful of, writing to her friends, lest she should in seme way implicate them in her own difficulties. In the midst of these perplexities, her true friend, M. de Montmorency, came to make her a visit ; she told him such a proof of friendship would offend the emperor; but he felt safe in the consciousness of a life entirely secluded from any connexion with public aff*airs. The day after his arrival, they rode to Fribourg, to see a convent of nuns, of the dismal order of La Trappe. She says, ' We reached the convent in the midst of a severe shower, after having been obliged to come nearly a mile on foot. I rung the bell at the gate of the cloister ; a nun appeared behind the lattice opening, through which the MADA ME DE STAE L. 67 portress may. speak to strangers. " What do you want?" said she, in a voice without modulation, such as we might suppose that of a ghost. " I should like to see the interior of the convent." " That is impossible," she replied. "But I am very wet, and want to dry my dress." She immedi- ately touched a spring, which opened the door of an outer apartment, in which I was allowed to rest myself; but no living creature appeared. In a few minutes, impatient at not being able to pene- trate the interior of the convent, after my long walk, I rung again. The same person re-appeared. I asked her if females were never admitted into the convent. She answered, " only when they had the intention of becoming nuns." ' " But." said I, " How can I tell whether I should like to remain in your house, if I am not permitted to see it !" " Oh, that is quite useless," she re- plied, " I am very sure that you have no vocation for our state ;" and with these words she immedi- ately shut her wicket.' Madame de Stael says she knows not how this nun discovered her worldly disposition, unless it were by her quick manner of speaking, so different from their own. Those who look at Madame de Stael's portrait, will not v/on- der at the nun's penetration : it needs but a single glance at her bright dark eye, through which one can look so clearly into the depths of an ardent and busy soul, to be convinced tha\ she was not made for the solitude and austerities of La Trappe. Being disappointed in getting a.sightof the nuns, 68 MADAM C DE STALIL.. Madame de Statl proposed to her son and M. de Montmorency to go to the famous cascade of Bex, where the water falls from a very lofty mountain. This being just within the French territory, she, without being aware of it, infringed upon her sen- tence of exile. The prefect blamed her very much, and made a great merit of not informing the Emperor that she had been in France. She says she might have told him, in the words of La Fon- taine's fable, * I grazed of this meadow the breadth of my tongue.' Bonaparte, finding that Madame de Stael wisely resolved to be as happy as she could, determined to make her home a solitude, by forbidding all persons to visit her. Four days after M. de Montmorency arrived at Coppet, he was banislied from France ; for no other crime than having dared to offer the consola- tion of his society to one, who had been his intimate friend for more than twenty years, and by whose assistance he had escaped from the dangers of the Revolution. Madame Recamier, being at that time on her way to the waters of Aix in Savoy, sent her friend word that she should stop at Coppet. Madame de Stael despatched a courier to beseech her not to come ; and she wept bitterly, to think that her charming friend was so near her, without the pos- sibility of obtaining an interview : but Madame Recamier, conscious that she had never meddled with politics, was resolved not to pass by Coppet without seeing her. Instead of the joy that had MADAME DE STAEL. 69 always welcomed her arrival, she was received with a torrent of tears. She staid only one night; but, as Madame de Stael had feared, the sentence of exile smote her also. ' Thus regardless,' says she, ' did the chief of the French people, so re- nowned for their gallantry, show himself toward the most beautiful woman in Paris. In one day he smote virtue and distinguished rank in M. de Montmorency, beauty in Madame Recamier, and, if I -are say it, the reputation of high talents in myself Not only Frenchmen, but foreigners, who wish- ed to visit a writer of so much celebrity, were in- formed that they must not enter her house. The minister of the police said he would have a soldier's guard mounted at the bottom of the avenue, to arrest whoever attempted to go to Coppet. Every courier brought tidings of some friend exiled for having dared to keep up a correspon- dence with her ; even her sons were forbidden to enter France, without a new permission from the police. In this cruel situation, Madame de Stael could only weep for those friends, who forsook her, and tremble for those, who had the courage to remain faithful. But nothing could force from her one line of flattery to the Empsror. Her friends urged her to go beyond the power of her enemy ; saying, ' If you remain, he will treat you as Elizabeth did Mary Stuart ; nineteen years of m sery, and the catastrophe at last.' And she herself says, ' Thus to carry about with me the contagion of calamity, to be a burden on the 70 MADAME DESTAEL. existence of my children, to fear to write to those I love, or even to mention their names — this is a situation from which it is necessary to escape, or die.' But she hesitated, and lingered long before she determined to leave the tomb of her father, where she daily offered up her prayers for support and consolation. Besides, a new feeling had at this period gained dominion over her. At Geneva, she had become acquainted with Albert-Jean- Michel de Rocca, a young officer, just returned wounded from the war of the Spanish Peninsula, whose feeble health, united with the accounts given of his brilliant courage, had inspired general interest. Madame de Stael visited him, as a stran- ger who needed the soothing voice of kindness and compassion. The first v^'ords she uttered made him her ardent lover ; he talked of her in- cessantly. His friends represented to him the ex- trem.e improbability of gaining the affections of such a woman ; he rej.slied, ' I will love her so de^- votedly, that she crmnot refuse to marry me.' M. de Rocca had great elevation of character; his conversation was highly poetic ; his affections ardent ; and his style of writing animated and graceful :* his sentiments toward her were of the most romantic and chivalrous kind, — unbounded *ln 1809 he publi-hed Canvpagne de Walcheren et d'- Anvers. In 1814 he published a very interesting book, which was reprinted in 1817, called Memoire sur la guerre des Frangais en Espagne. He left a novel in MS. called Le Mai du pays ; I do not know whether it was ever printed. MAD A ME DE ST A EL 71 admiration was softened by extreme tenderness ; her desolate heart had lost the guardian and sup- port of early life ; his state of health excited her pity ; and more than all, he offered to realize the dream she had always so fondly mdulged — a mar- riao-e of love. A strong and enduring attachment, sprung up be- tween them, which, in 1811, resulted in a private wedding. The world, of course, will be disposed to smile at this union; but for myself, I would much more willingly forget her first marriage than her last. One originated in policy, and made her miserable; the other was sanctioned only by her own warm heart, and made her happy. In all things depend- ing on themselves, the sunshine of their domestic love seems to have been without a shadow. The precarious state of M. de Rocca's health was a source of sorrow, which she felt with a keenness proportioned to the susceptibility of her charficter. She watched over him with a patient, persevering attention, not a little remarkable in one to whom variety and activity were so necessary. When he was thought to be in danger, her anguish knew no bounds : she compared herself to Mar- shal Ney, when he expected sentence of death from one moment to another. In relation to this romantic affair, Madame de Stael was guilty of the greatest weakness of her whole life. Governed part- ly by a timidity, which feared ' the world's dread laugh,' and partly by a proud reluctance to relin- quish the name she had made so glorious through- 72 MADAME D E ST A EL, . out Europe, she concealed the marriage from all but her children, and her most intimate friends. On every account, this is to be eeeply regretted. ^ It makes us blush for an nsta ic of silly vanity in one so truly great ; and what is worse, the embar- rassing situation in which she thus placed herself, laid her ve y open to the malice of her enemies, and the suspicions of the world. Scandalous stories promulgated by those, who either misunder- stood, or wilfully misrepresented her character, are even now repeated, though clearly proved to be false by those who had the very best opportunities of i_observing her life. In her preference for the conversation of gen- tlemen, Madame de Stael had ever been as per- fectly undisguised, as she was with regard to all her other tastes rnd opinions; it was therefore natural that she should not be a general favorite with her '^ own sex, though she found among women many of her most zealous and attached friends. The intellectual sympathy, which p -oduced so many delightful friendships between herself and dis- tinguished men of all countries, was naturally attri- buted, by ladies of inferior gifts, to a source less innocent ; and to this petty malice, was added strong political animoijity, dark, rancorous, unprincipled, and unforgiving. They even tried to make a crime of her residence in England, with Narbonne and Talleyrand — as if thos^e days of tenor, when every man, woman, and child in France slept under the guillotine, was a time for even the most scru- pulous to adhere to the laws of etiquette. MADAME D E S T A L: L . 73 After her marriage with M. de Rocca, Madame de Stael, happy in the retirement of her now cheer- ful home, and finding consolation in the warm affection of her children, indulged hopes that the government would leave her in peace. But Bona- parte, who no doubt heard some sort of account of the new attachment, which had given a fresh charm to her existence, caused her to be threatened with perpetual imprisonment. Unable any longer to endure this system of vexa- tion, she asked leave to live in Ital), promising not to publish a single line of any kind ; and with some- thing of becoming pride, she reminded the officers of government that it was the author of Corinna, who asked no other privilege than to live and die in Home. But notwithstanding the strong claim which this beautiful work gave her to the admiration and indulgence of her countrymen, that request was refused. Napoleon, in one of his conversations at St Helena, excuses his uninterrup.ed persecution of Madame de Stael, by saying that, ' she was an am- bitious, intriguing woman, who would at any time have thrown her friends into the sea, for the sake of exercising her energy in saving them.' No doubt there was much truth in this accusa- tion. From her earliest childhood, Madame de Stael had breathed the atmosphere of politics ; and she lived at an exciting period, when an active mind could scarcely forbear taking great interest 74 MADAME DE STAEL. in public affairs.* She was an avowed enemy to the imperial government ; bat, though she spoke her mind freely, we do not hear of her as engaged in any conspiracies, or even attempting to form a party. At her Swiss retreat, when he was omnipotent in France^ and she was powerless, it certainly was safe to leave her in the peaceful enjoyment of such social [)leasures as were within her reach. The banishment of M. de Schleo-el. M. de Montmo- rency, and Madame Recarnier, his refusal to allow Madame de Statl to pass into Italy, and his oppo- sition to her visiting England, seem much more like personal dislike and irritation against one, whom he could not compel to flatter him, than they do like political precaution : he indeed overrated Madame de Stall's importance, ifhe supposed she could change the whole policy of government, in a country where the national prejudices are so strongly arrayed against female politicians, as they are in England. Whatever were Bonaparte's motives and inten- tions, her friends thought it prudent to urge imme- diate flight; and she herself felt the necessity of it. But month after month passed away, during which * Bonaparte once at a party placed himself directly before a witty and beautiful lady, and said very abruptly, ' Madame, 1 don't like that women should middle with politics.' — . *You are very right, General,' shg i-eplied ; 'but in a country where women are beheaded, it is natural they should desirs to know the reason.' MADAME DE STAEL. 75 time she was distracted with the most painful per- plexity between her fears of a prison, and her dread of becoming a fugitive on the face of the earth. She says, ' I e-ometimes consulted all sorts of pre- sages, in hopes I should be directed what to do ; at other times, I moi^e wisely interrogated my friends and myself on the propriety of my departure. I am sure, that I put the patience of my friends to a se- vere test by my eternal discussions, and painful irresolution.' Two attempts were made to obtain passports for America; but, after compelling her to wait along time, the government refused to give them. At one time she thought of going to Greece, by the route of Constantinople ; but she feared to ex- pose her daughter to the perils of such a voyage. Her next object was to reach England through the circuitous route of Russia and Sweden; but in this great undertaking, her heart failed her. Hav- ing a bold imagination, and a timid character, she conjured up the phantoms of ten thousand dangers. She was afraid of robbers, of arrest, of prisons, — and more than all, she was afraid of being adver- tised, in the newspapers, with all the scandalous falsehoods her enemies might think proper to invent. She said truly that she had to contend with an * enemy with a million of soldiers, millions of reven- nue, all the prisons of Europe, kings for his jailers, and the press for his mouth -piece ' But the time at last came when the pressure of circumstances would no longer admit of delay. Bonaparte was 76 M ADAM E DE STAE L. preparing for his Russian campaign, and she must either precede the French troops, or abandon her project entirely. The 15th of May, 1812, was at last fixed upon for departure ; and all the necessary arrange- ments were made with profound secrecy. When the day arrived, the uncertainty she felt seemed to her like a consciousness of being about to do some- thing wTong ; she thought she ought to yield her- self u}) to such events as Providence ordained, and that thf)se pious men were in the right, who always scrupled to follow an impulse originating in their own free will. She says, ' Agitated by these con- flicting feelings, I wandered over the park at Cop- pet ; I seated myself in all the places where my fatlier had been accustomed to repose liimself, and contemplate nature ; 1 looked once more upon the beauties of water and verdure, which we had so often admired together ; I bade them adieu, and recommended myself to their sweet influences. The monument that incloses the ashes of my fath- er and my mother, and in which, if God permits, my own will be deposited, was one of the principal causes of regret T felt at banishing myself from the home of my childhood ; but on approaching it, I almost always found strength, that seemed to me to come from heaven. I passed an hour in prayer before the iron gate, which inclosed the mortal remains of the noblest of human beings ; and my soul was convinced of the necessity of departure. I went once more to look at my father's study, M A I) A M E D E S T A E L . 77 where his easy-chair, his table, and his papers, re- mained as he had left them : •! kissed each vener- ated mark ; I took the cloik, which till then I had ordered to be left upon his chair, and carried it away with me, that I might wrap myself up in it, should the messenger of death approach me. When these adieus were terminated, I avoided as much as I could all other farewells ; I found it less pain- ful to part from my friends by letters, which I took care they should not receive until several days after my departure. ' On Saturday, the 2M of May, 1812, I got into my carriage, saying that I should return to dinner. I took no packet whatever : I and my daughter had only our fans. My son and M. de Rocca car- ried in their pockets enough to defray the expenses of several days' journey. On leaving the chateau, which had become to me like an old and valued friend, I nearly fainted : my son took my hand, and said, " Dear mother, remember you are on your way to England." Though nearly two thousand leagues from that goal, to which the usual road would have so speedily conducted me, I felt revived by his words ; every step at least brought me some- thing nearer to it. When I had proceeded a few leagues, I sent back one of my servants to apprize my establishment that I should not return until the next day. I continued travelling night and day as far as a farm-house beyond Berne, where I had agreed to meet M. de Schlegel, who had kindly offered to accompany me. Here I was obliged to 78 MADAME DE STAEL. leave my eldest son, who for fourteen years had been educated by my father, and whose features strongly reminded me of him. Again my courage abandoned me. I thought of Switzerland, so tranquil, and so beautiful ; I thought of her inhabit- ants, who, though they had lost political indepen- dence, knew how to be free by their virtues ; and it seejned 10 me as if everything told me I ought not to go. I had not yet crossed the barrier — there was still a possibility of retarninix. But if I went back, I knew another escape \\ould be impossible ; and 1 felt a sort of shame at the idea of renewing such solemn farevvelfs. I knew not what would have become of me, if this uncertainty had lasted much longer. My children decided me; especial- ly my daughter, who was then scarcely fourteen years old. I committed myself to her, as if the voice of God had spoken by the mouth of a child. My son took his leave ; and when he was out of sight, I could say, with Lord Russell, " The bitter- ness of death is past." ' The young Baron de Stael had been obliged to Jeave his mother, in order to attend to the interests of her fortune, and to obtain passports to go through Austria, one of whose princesses was then the wife of Na|)oleon. Everything depended on obtaining these passports, under some name that would not attract the attention of the police; if they were refused, Madame de Statl would be arrested, and the rigors of exile made more intolerable than ever. It was a decisive ^step, and one that caused her M A D A !\1 E DE ST A E L. 79 devoted son the most painful anxiety. Finally, he concluded to act, as he judiciously observes all hon- est men had better do in their intercourse with each other, — he threw himself directly upon the gene- rosity of the Austrian ambassador ; and fortunately he had to deal wdth an honorable man, who made no hesitation in granting his request. A few days after, Madame de Stael's younger son, w^ith her servants, wardrobe, and travelling carriage, set out from Coppet, to meet bis mother at Vienna. The whole had been managed wdth such secrecy, and the police had become so accus- tomed to her quiet way of life, that no suspicions were excited, until this second removal took place. The gens-iU amies were instantly on the alert ; but Madame de Stael had too much the start of them, and had travelled too swiftly to be overtaken. In describing her flight, she says, ' The moment I most dreaded was the passage from Bavaria to Austria ; for it was there a courier might precede me, and forbid me to pass. But notwithstanding my apprehensions, my health had been so much injured by anxiety and fatigue, that I could no longer travel all night. I, however, flattered my- self that I should arrive without impediment ; when, just as my fears were vanishing, as we approached the boundary line, a man in the inn, at Saltzburg, told M. de Schlecrel that a French courier had been to inquire for a carriage coming from Inspruck, with a lady and a young girl ; and had left word that he w^ould return to get intelligence of them. 80 MADAMEDESTAEL. I became pale with terror ; and M. de Schlegel was very much alarmed ; especially as he found by inquiry that the courier had been waiting for meat the Austrian frontier, and not finding me there', had returned to meet me. This was just what I had dreaded before my departure, and through the whole journey. I determined, on the spur of the moment, to leave M. de Schlegel and my daughter at the inn, and to go on foot into the streets of the town, to take my chance at the first house whose master, or mistress, had a physiognomy that pleased me. I would remain in this asylum a few days ; during this time, M. de Schlegel and my daughter might say that they were going to rejoin me in Austria ; and I would afterward leave Saltzburg, disguised as a peasant. Hazardous as this resource appeared, no other remained ; and I was just pre- parinsj for the task, with fear and trembling, when who should enter my apartment but this dreaded courier, vi'ho was no other than — M. de Rocca ! He had been obliged to return to Geneva to transact some business, and now came to rejoin' me. He had disguised himself as a courier, in order to take advantage of the terror which the name inspired, and to obtain horses more quickly. He had hurried on to the Austrian frontier, to make himself sure that no one had preceded, or announc- ed me ; he had returned to assure me that I had nothing to fear, and to get upon the box of my carriage until we had passed that dreaded frontier, which seemed to me the last of my dangers. In M A D A M E D E S T A E L . 81 this manner were my fears changed to gratitude, joy, and confidence.' At Vienna, Madame de Stael was obliged to wait some time for a Russian passport. The first ten days w^ere spent very pleasantly, and her friends there assured her that she might rest in perfect security. At the end of that time, the Austrian police probably received directions concerning her from Napoleon ; for they placed a guard at the gate of her house, and, whether she walked or rode, she was followed by spies. She was at this time in a state of great uneasi- ness ; for unless her Russian passport came speedily, the progress of the war would prevent her from passing into that country ; and she dared not stay in Vienna a day after the French ambassador, (v.'ho was then at Dresden,) had returned. Again she thought of Constantinople. She tried to obtain two passports to leave Austria, either by Hungary or Gallicia, so that she might decide in favor of going to Petersburg or Constantinople according to circumstances. She w^as told she might have her choice of passports, but that they could not enable her to go by two different frontiers without authori- ty from the Committee of States. She says, ' Eu- rope seemed to her like one great net, in w^hich travellers got entangled at every step.' She departed for Gallicia without her Russian passport ;" a friend having promised to travel night and day to bring it to her, as soon as it arrived. At every step of her journey she encountered fresh 6 82 MADAME DE STAEL. difficulties from the police^ all of which it would be tedious to relate. Placards were put up in all the towns to keep a strict watch upon her as she passed through : this was the distinction the Aus- trians conferred upon a woman, who has done more than any other mortal to give foreigners a respect for German literature, and German character. In passing through Poland, Madame de Stael wished to rest a day or two at Lanzut, at the castle of the Polish Prince and Princess, Lubomirska, with whom she had been well acquainted in Geneva, and during her visit to Vienna. The captain of the police, jealous that she intended to excite the Poles to insurrection, sent a detachment to escort her into Lanzut, to follow her into the castle, and not leave her until she quitted it. Accordingly the officer stationed himself at the supper-table of the Prince, and in the evening took occasion to observe to her son that he had orders to pass the night in her apartment, to prevent her holding communica- tion with any one ; but that, out of respect to her, he should not do it. ' You may as well say that you will not do it, out of respect to yourself,' repli- ed the young man : ' for if you dare to set foot within my mother's apartment, I will assuredly throw you out of the window.' The escort of the police was particularly painful to Madame de Stael at this point of her journey. A description of M. de Rocca had been sent along the road, with orders to arrest him as a French officer ; although he had resigned his commission, MADAME DE STAEL. 83 and was disabled by his wound from doing military service. Had he been arrested, the forfeiture of his life would have been the consequence. He had therefore been obliged to separate from his wife, at a time when he felt most anxious to protect her ; and to travel alone under a borrowed name. It had been arranged that they should meet at Lanzut, from which place they hoped to be able to pass safely into Russia. Having arrived there before her, and not in the least suspecting that she would be guarded by the police, he eagerly came out to meet her, full of joy and confidence. The danger, to which he thus unconsciously exposed himself, made Madame de Stael pale with agony. She had scarcely time to give him an earnest signal to turn back. Had it not been for the generous pres- ence of mind of a Polish gentleman, M. de Rocca would have been recognised and arrested. The fugitive experienced the greatest friendship and hospitality from the Prince and Princess Lu- bormirska ; but notwithstanding their urgent en- treaties, she would not consent to encumber their house with such attendants as chose to follow her. After one night's rest, she departed for Russia, which she entered on the 14th of July. As she passed the boundary-line, she made a solemn oath never again to set foot in a country subjected in any degree to the Emperor Napoleon; though she says she felt some sad misgivings that the oath would never allow her to revisit her own beautiful and beloved France. 84 MADAME DE STAEL. Madame de Stael staid but a brief space in Mos- cow ; the flames and the French array followed close upon her footsteps. At Petersburg she had several interviews with the Emperor Alexander, whose affairs were then at a most alarming crisis.* She remarks of Russia, * The country appeared to me like an image of in- finite space, and as if it v^ould require an eternity to traverse it. The Sclavonian language is sin- gularly echoing; there is something metallic about it; you would imagine you heard a bell striking, when the Russians pronounce certain letters of their alphabet.' The nobility of Petersburg vied with each other in the attentions bestowed on Madame de Stael. At a dinner given in honor of her arrival, the fol- lowing toast was proposed : ' Success to the arms of Russia against France.' The exile, dearly loved her country, and her heart could not respond to the sentiment : ' Not against France ! ' she exclaim- ed ; ^ but against him who oppresses France.' The toast thus changed was repeated with great applause. Although Madame de Stael found much in Russia to interest her, and was everywhere received with distinguished regard, she did not feel in perfect security ; she could not look on the magnificent * In a conversation concerning the structure of govern- ments, Madame de Stael said to the Emperor, 'Sire, you are yourself a constitution for your country.' ' Then, mad- am, I am but a lucky accident j' was his wise reply to her delicate and comprehensive flattery. MADAME DE STA EL. 85 edifices of that splendid capital, without dismal forebodings, that he, whose power had overshadowed all the fair dwellings of Europe, would come to darken them also. In September, she passed through Finland into Sweden. In Stockholm she published a work against Suicide, written before her flight from Cop- pet. The object of this Treatise is to show that the natural and proper effect of affliction is to elevate and purify the soul, instead of driving it to despair. She is said to have been induced to make this publication by the fear that she had, in some of her former writings, evinced too much admiration for this guilty form of courage. In Sweden, as in Russia, Madame de Stael was received with very marked respect. It was gener- ally supposed that she exerted a powerful influence over Bernadotte, to induce him to resist the en- croachments of Napoleon's ambition. If this be the case^ she may be said to have fairly check-ma- ted the Emperor with a king of his own making. Though Bernadotte had great respect for her opin- ions, she is said not to have been a favorite with him : he was himself fond of making eloquent speeches, and her conversation threw' him into the shade. Madame de Stael passed the winter of 1812 on the shores of the Baltic, and in the spring she sailed for England; where she arrived in June, 1813. Although her dramatic style of manners, and the energy of her conversation, formed a strik- ing contrast to the national reserve of the English, 86 MADAME DE STAEL. she was received with enthusiastic admiration: Her genius, her fame, her escape from Bonaparte, and her intimate knowledge of the French Revo- lution, all combined to produce a prodigious sen- sation. ' In the immense crowds that collected to see her at the Marquis of Lansdowne's, and in the houses of the other principal nobility of London, the eagerness of curiosity broke through all restraint ; the first ladies in the kingdom stood on chairs and tables, to catch a glimpse of her dark and brilliant physiognomy.' Madame de Stael has left some admirable de- scriptions of English society, and of the impressions made upon her mind, when she first entered that powerful country. But the principal object of her visit was not to observe the intellectual wealth, or moral grandeur, of England. — Through all her perils and wanderings she had saved a copy of her condemned book on Germany, and had brought it triumphantly to London, where it was published in October, 1813. ^ In this, which is perhaps her greatest work, Madame de Stael has endeavoured to give a bold, general, and philosophical view of the whole intel- lectual condition of the German people, among whom she had made what was in some sort a voy- age of discovery ; for the highly original literature of that country was then little known to the rest of Europe.' It was received with great applause in England, and afterward in France, where a change of government admitted of its being published the ensuing year. Sir James Mackintosh immediately MADAME DE STAEL. 87 wrote a review of it, in which he says, ' The voice of Europe had already applauded the genius of a national painter in the author of Corinna. — In her Germany, she throws off the aid of fiction ; she delineates a less poetical character, and a country more interesting by anticipation than by recollec- tion. But it is not the less certain that it is the most vigorous effort of her genius, and probably the most elaborate and masculine production of the faculties of woman.' Simond says, ' The main defect in her mode of composition, perhaps the only one, is an excessive ambition of eloquence. The mind finds no rest anywhere ; every sentence is replete with meaning, fully freighted with philosophy, and with wit, some- times indeed over-laden ; no careless expression ever escapes her ; no redundancy amid so much exuberance : if you had to make an abstract of what she wrote, although you might wish to render it clearer and simpler, you would scarcely know what to strike off, or how to clothe the thoughts in more compendious language ; so harmonious and so strong is hers. Yet she could compose in com- pany, and write while conversing.' But the fault most commonly found with Madame de Stael's books, and which will probably always prevent their being very popular with general read- ers, is obscurity. We never for a moment suspect her of vagueness ; we know there is a meaning, when we cannot perceive it. As Lady Morgan says, ' There is in her compositions something of the Delphic priestess. They have the energy of 88 MADAME DE STAEL. inspiration, and the disorder. Sometimes mystic, not always intelligible, we still blame the god rath- er than the oracle, and wish she were less inspired, or we more intelligent.' When Madame de Stael made her visit to Eng- land, Lord Byron was in the first lustre of his fame : V he had not then sunk into that depth of moral deg- radation, which afterward made his genius the hot- breathing of a curse upon a world that worshipped him. At first, the rival lions seem to have been disposed to growl at each other. The following extracts from Byron's letters and journal give a vivid picture of the terms on which they stood : St James's, July 8, 1813. * Rogers is out of town with Madame de Stael, who hath published an essay against suicide, which, I presume, will make somebody shoot him- self.' July 13, 1813. ' P. S. The Stael last night attacked me most furiously — said that I had no right to make love — that I had used * * * barbarously — that I had no feeling, and was totally insensible to la belle pas- sion, and bad been all my life. I am very glad to hear it ; but I did not know it before.' While Madame de Stael was in England she was deeply afflicted by the news of the death of her youngest son. Byron alludes to this event in an off- hand style, and judges her by rules that apply re- markably well to his own character. AIADAME DE STAEL. 89 August 22, 1813. ' Madame de Stael Holstein has losfone of her young barons, who has been carbonadoed by a vile Teutonic adjutant — kilt and killed in a coffee- house at Scrawsenhawsen. Corinna is, of course, what all mothers must be, — but will, I venture to prophesy, do what few mothers could — write an essay upon it. She cannot exist without a griev- ance — and somebody to see or read how much grief becomes her. I have not seen her since the event ; but merely judge (not very charitably) from prior observation.' Nov. 16. ' Today received Lord Jersey's invitation to Middleton — to travel sixty miles to meet Madame * * * ! I once travelled three thousand to get among silent people ; and this same lady writes oc- tavos, and talks folios. I have read all her books — like most of them, and delight in the last; sol won't hear as well as read.' Nov. 17. ' At Lord Holland's I was trying to recollect a quotation (as I think) of Stael's, from some Teu- tonic sophist about architecture. " Architecture re- minds me of frozen music," says this Macaronico Tedescho. It is somewhere — but where ? The demon of perplexity must know, and won't tell. I asked M and he said it was not hers ; but P r said it must be hers, it was so UkeJ y 90 MADAME DE STAEL. ~ , Nov. 30. * Received a very pretty billet from M. la Barronne de Stael Holstein. She is pleased to be much pleased with my mention of her last vv^ork in my notes.* I spoke as I thought — Her w^orks are my delight, and so is she herself, for — half an hour. She is a woman by herself, and has done more than all the rest of them together, intellectually. — She ought to have been a man. She flatters me very prettily in her note ; but I knojo it. The rea- son that adulation is not displeasing is, that, though untrue, it shows one to be of consequence enough, in one way or other, to induce people to lie, to make us their friend : — that is their concern.' Dec. 5. ' Asked for Wednesday to dine at Lord Holland's and meet the Stael : asked particularly, I believe, out of mischief to see the first interview after my answer to her note, with which Corinna professes herself to be so much taken. I don't much like it — she always talks of mi/self, or herself, and I am not, (except in soliloquy, as now) much enamour- ed of either subject — especially one's works. What the shall I say about Germany ! I like it prodigiously. I read her again and again, and there can be no affectation in this ; but unless I can twist my admiration into some fantastical ex- j pression, she won't believe me ; and I know by ex- * Byron, in his notes to the Bride of Abydos, then just pub- lished, called her the first female writer of this, perhapsof any age. MADAME DE STAEL. 91 perience I shall be overwhelmed with fine things about rhyme^ &lc, 6lc. Dec. 7. ' This morning received a very pretty billet from the Stael, about meeting her at Lord Holland's tomorrow. I dare say she has written twenty such to different people, all equally flattering. So much the better for her, and for those who believe all she wishes them, or all they wish to believe. Her being pleased with my slight eulogy is to be accounted for in several ways. Firstly, all women like all or any praise ; secondly, this was unexpect- ed, because I have never courted her ; thirdly, those who have all their lives long been praised by regular critics, like a little variety, and are glad when any one goes out of his way to say a civil thing ; and fourthly, she is a very good-natured creature, which is the best reason, after all, and perhaps the only one.' Dec 10. * Dined at Lord Holland's on Wednesday. The Stael was at the other end of the table, and less loquacious than heretofore. We are now very good friends ; though she asked Lady Melbourne whether I really had any honJiommie. She might as well, have asked that question before she told C. L. ' Oest un demon.' True enough, but rather prema- ture ; for she could not have found it out.' Dec. 12. * All the world are to be at the Stael' s to-night. v/ 92 MADAMEDESTAiilL. and I am not sorry to escape any part of it. I only go out to get me a fresh appetite for being alone.' Jan. 11, 1814. TO MR MURRAY. ' I do not love Madame de Stael, but depend upon it, she beats all your natives hollow as an au- thoress ; and I vv^ould not say this if I could help it.' Jan. 16. ' Lewis has been squabbling with Madame de Stael about Clarissa Harlowe, Mackintosh, and me. My homage has never been paid in that quarter, or we should have agreed still worse. I don't talk — I can't flatter — and I won't listen. Poor Co- rinne, she will find some of her fine speeches will not suit our fine ladies and gentlemen.' Feb. 18, 1814. ' More notes from Madame de * * unanswered — and so they shall remain. I admire her abilities, but really her society is overwhelming — an ava- lanche that buries one in glittering nonsense — all snow and sophistry. ' March 6. ' Dined with Rogers. Madame de Stael, Mack- intosh, Sheridan, Erskjne, &c, there. Sheridan told a very good story of himself and Madame Recamier's handerchief. She says she is going to write a bjg book about England — I believe her. We got up from table too soon after the women ; and Mrs Corinne always lingers so long after dinner, that we wish her in — the drawing-room.' MADAME DE ST A EL. 93 Jtjxe, 19, 1814. . ' The Stael out-talked Whitbread, was ironed by Sheridan, confounded Sir Humphry, and ut- terly perplexed your slave. The rest (great names in the red book, nevertheless) were mere segments of the circle. Mademoiselle * danced a Russ saraband with great vigor, grace, and expression.' The respect and admiration with which Madame de Stael was received by the best society in England was rather increased than diminished during her residence there. She had now been in most of the capitals of Europe, and in all of them had received a degree of homage never before paid to any wo- man who was not a queen. But all these flattering distinctions could not wean her affections from her beloved Paris. In the midst of the most daz- zling triumphs of her genius, her heart turned fondly toward France, and she was watching v/ith intense anxiety the progress of those great political move- ments, which afterward restored her to her country. Immediately after the entrance of the Allied Army into Paris, and the consequent abdication of Bona- parte, Madame de Stael returned to her native land. Notwithstanding the pain it gave her to see her country filled with foreign troops, she felt the joy of an exile restored to her home. She immediately resumed her high place in society: and the accu- * Probably Mademoiselle de Stael, afterward Duchess ds Bro^lie. 94 MADAME DE STAEL mulation of fame she brought with her threw ad- ditional brilliancy around a name, which had so long been illustrious. Louis XVIII. took great de- light in her conversation. He caused to be paid from the royal treasury the two millions of francs, that M. Necker had loaned to Louis XVI. A circumstance which occurred at this period of her life is remarkably interesting. A project was on foot to assassinate Napoleon ; and men were sent to Elba for that purpose. Madame de Stael, from her well-known dislike to the Emperor, and her acquaintance with political men of all parties, was the first one to whom the secret was confided. Accompanied by Talma, she immediately sought an interview with Joseph Bonaparte, informed him of his brother's danger, and even proposed to go to Elba in person. A patriotic friend, whose name is not yet revealed to the public, undertook the haz- ardous mission — he arrived in time, so that the two first who landed were arrested, and Bonaparte was saved. Madame de Stael passed the winters of 1814 and '15 in Paris, receiving the universal homage of the great men, then collected there from all parts of the world. But the shadow of her old and in- veterate enemy was suddenly thrown across this bright spot in her existence. On the 6th of March, 1815, Bonaparte suddenly landed in France. When Madame de Stael heard the tidings, she says, it seemed as if the earth had yawned under her feet. She had sufficient knowledge of the MADAME DE ST AEL. 95 French people to conjecture what reception Napo- leon would meet ; and having made a farewell visit to the king, with a heavy heart she returned to Coppet. Bonaparte, anxious to rebuild the power his own madness had overthrown, was particularly desirous to gain the confidence of the friends of rational liberty ; and among these his former persecution had shown of what consequence he considered Madame de Stael. He sent his brother Joseph with a request that she would come to Paris and give him her advice about framing a constitutional government. With a consistency very rare in those days of rapid political changes, she replied, ' Tell the Emperor that for twelve years he has done with- out me or a constitution ; and I believe that he has as little regard for the one as he has for the other.' Bonaparte gave O'Meara a very different ac- count. He says, ' I was obliged to banish Mad- ame de Stael from court.* At Geneva she became very intimate with my brother Joseph, whom she gained by her conversation and writings. When I returned from Elba she sent her son to ask payment of two millions, which her father had lent out of his private property to Louis XVI. and to offer her services provided I complied with her request. I refused to see him ; thinking I could not grant what he wished without ill-treatinor others in a similar * A gentle and comprehensive description of his system of petty persecutions! 96 MADAM EDE ST A EL. predicament. However, Joseph would not be re- fused, and brought him in ; the attendants not lik- ing to deny my brother. I received him politely, and told him I was very sorry I could not comply with his request, as it was contrary to the laws. Madame de Stael then wrote along letter to Fouche stating her claims, in which she said she wanted the money to portion her daughter in marriage to the Due de Broglie, promising that if I complied with her request, I might command her and hers; that she wouldhe black and white for me. Fouche urged me to comply, saying that at so critical a time she might be of considerable service. I answered that I would make no bargains.' It is impossible that the above statement should be true. In the first place, we have more reason to place confidence in the veracity of the open- hearted Madame de Stael, than we have in the word of Napoleon, who seldom used language for any other purpose than to conceal his thoughts ; secondly, in the beginning of his reign he did offer' to pay those very two millions, if she would favor his government, and at the very time of which O'Meara speaks, he again offered to do it ; thirdly, it is notorious that after his return from Elba he was extremely anxious to conciliate his enemies ; and lastly, the history of his vv'hole intriguing life makes us laugh at the pretence that he u'as incapa- ble of making bargains. At the close of the memorable Hundred Days, Bonaparte was a second time compelled to abdicate ; MADAME DE STAEL. 97 and Madame de Stael would have immediately re- turned to Paris, had she not felt such a painful sense of degradation in seeing the throne of France supported by a standing army of foreign troops : her national pride could not brook the disgrace of witnessing her country in the leading-strings of the Allied Powers J Fraiice thus situated, was in her eyes no longer ' the great nation.' She remained at Coppet during the summer ,^of 1815 ; but having fresh cause of alarm for the health of her husband, who had never recovered from the effects of his vv^ound, she revisited Italy, where they passed the winter. In the spring of 1816 they returned to Coppet. Lord Byron, who had then left England, in high indignation at the odium he had brought upon him- self, passed through Switzerland, during this year, in his way to Italy. Notwithstanding his former want of cordiality toward Madame de Stael, and his personal unpopularity at this period, he was received by her with a kindness and hospitality, he had not hoped to meet, and which affected him deeply. Y/ith her usual frankness, she blamed him for his conduct to Lady Syron ; and by her persua- sive eloquence prevailed upon him to write to a friend in England expressing a wish to be reconcil- ed to his wife. In the letters he wrote, during the few summer months he staid in Switzerland, he often speaks of Coppet and its inhabitants. He says, ' Madame de Stael wishes to see the Anti- quary, and I am going to take it to her tomorrow. 7 98 MADAME DE STAEL. She has made Coppet as agreeable to me as society and talent can make any place on earth. Bon- stetteu is there a good deal. He is a fine, lively old man, and much esteemed by his compatriots. All there are well, excepting Rocca, who. I am sorry to say, looks in a very bad state of health. Schlegel is in high force, and Madame de Staei is as brilliant as ever.' Of the Duchess de Broglie, Byron spoke in very high terms ; and in noticing her attachment to her husband, he remarked that, 'Nothing was more pleasing than to see the development of the domestic affections in a very young woman.' What a pity that virtue was not to him something more than a mere abstract idea of poetic beauty ! When it became evident that the Allied Powers did not mean to dictate the measures of the French government, Madame de Stail was again strongly tempted by the allurements of Paris. She return- ed once more, to become the leading-star in the most brilliant society in the world. ' Every even- ing her saloon was crowded with all that was dis- tinguished and powerful, not in France only, but in all Europe, which was then represented in Paris by a remarkable number of its most extraordinary men. Madame de Stael had, to a degree perhaps never possessed by any other person, the rare talent of uniting around her the most distinguished individuals of all the opposite parties, literary and political, and making them establish relations among themselves, which they could not afterward entirely shake off. There misrht be found Wellinston and MADAME DE STAEL. 99 Lafayette, Chateaubriand, Talleyrand, and Prince Laval ; Humboldt and Blucher from Berlin ; Con- stant and Sismondi from Switzerland ; the two Schlegels from Hanover ; Canova from Italy ; the beautiful Madame Recamier, and the admirable Duchess de Duras : and from England, such a mul- titude, that it seemed like a general emigration of British talent and rank.' It was iu conversation with men like these, that Madame de Stael shone in the fulness of her splen- dor. Much as we may admire her writings, in which she has so gracefully blended masculine vigor with female vivacity and enthusiasm, we cannot reahze the vividness of her fame, like those who saw her genius flashing and sparkling in quick collision with kindred minds. In powers of conver- sation she was probably gifted beyond any other human being. Madame Tesse declared, ' if she were a queen, she would order Z\Iadame de Stael to talk to her always.' — Simond says, -' That ambition of eloquence, so conspicuous in her writings, was much less observable in her conversation ; there was more abandon in v.iiat she said, than in what she wrote ; while speaking, the spontaneous inspi- ration was no labor, but all pleasure ; conscious of extraordinary powers, she gave herself up to the present enjoyment of the good things, and the deep things flowing, in a full stream from her own well- stored and luxuriant fancy. The inspiration Vv^as pleasure — the pleasure was inspiration ; and with- out precisely intending it, ^he was every eveninjof 100 MADAME DE STAiiL. her life, in a circle of company, the very Corinne she had depicted. It must not, however, be sup- posed that, engrossed by her own self-gratification, Madame de Stael was inattentive to the feelings of others ; she listened very willingly, enjoyed, and applauded ; she did more, often provoking a reply, and endeavoring to place her hearers in a situation to have their turn. "What Ao you think?" she would say with eager good-nature, in the very middle of her triumph, that you also might have yours. Upon the whole, Madame de Stael's hon" Jiommie was still more striking than her talents.' Madame de Saussure tells us that ' no one could understand the full measure of her power, except those who knew her in the intimacy of friendship. Her most beautiful writings, her most eloquent re- marks in society, were far from equalling the fascina- tion of her conversation, w hen she threw off the constraint of conforming to various characters, and talked unreservedly to one she loved. She then gave herself up to an inspiration, v/hich seemed to ex- ercise as supernatural an effect upon herself, as it did upon others. Whether the power was exerted for good or evil, it seemed to come from a source over which she had no control. Sometimes, in the bitterness of her spirit, she at one breath withered all the flowers of life, and probing the heart with red- hot iron, destroyed all the illusions of sentiment, all the charm of the dearest relations. Presently, she would yield to the control of gayety, singularly original in its character : it had all the graceful MADAME DE STAEL. 101 candor and winning credulity of a little child, who is a dupe to everything. Then she would abandon herself to a sublime melancholy, a religious fervor, acknowledging the utter emptiness of all this world can bestow.' The winter months at the close of 1816, and the beginning of 1817, were passed by Madame de Stael in Paris. This was the most splendid scene in the gorgeous drama of her life — and it was the last. ' The great exertions she made, evening after evening, in the important political discussions that were carried on in her saloon, — the labors of the morning in writing almost continually some- thing suited to the wants of the moment, for the Mercury, and other periodicals, — while at the same time, the serious labor of her great work on the French Revolution was still pressing on her, — all these together were too much for her strength.' Contrary to the advice of the physicians, she per- sisted in using opium, to which she had for some time resorted to stimulate her exhausted frame ; but nature was worn out, and no artificial means could restore its vigor. A violent fever, obviously the effect of the excitement under which she had so long lived, seized her in February. By the use of excessively violent means, it was thrown off; but though the disease was gone, her constitution was broken up. Life passed at first insensibly from the extremities, and then no less slowly retired from the more vital organs. In general, she suffer- ed little, and her faculties remained in unclouded 102 MADAME DE STAEL. brightness to the last. The interest excited by her situation proved the affection she had inspired, and of what consequence her life v/as accounted to her country. Every day some of the royal family were anxiously inquiring at the door, and every day the Duke of Wellington came in person to ask if there was no hope. Her most intimate friends (who have been often mentioned in the course of this memoir) were admitted into her sick chamber. She convers- ed upon all the subjects that were introduced, and took an interest in them all. If her conversation at this period had less than her usual animation, it is said to have had more of richness and depth,, The deadly paleness of her foRtures formed a touch- ing contrast with the dazzling intelligence, which never deserted her expressive countenance. Her friends placed a double value on every remark she uttered, and treasured it in their inmost hearts as one of the last efforts of her wonderful mind. Some of them indulged the hope that she might recover ; but she knew from the first that the work of death was begun. At one time, owing to a high nervous excitement, produced by the progress of her disease, the thought of dissolution was terrible to her. — She mourned over the talents that had made her life so brilliant ; over the rank and influence, that she could so usefully exercise ; over her children, whose success in the world was just then begin- ning to gratify all her affection and pride ; until those who listened to her trembled at the heart- rending energy, which her excited imagination MADAME DE STAilL. 103 gave to her expressions. But this passed away with the disease that produced it; and cahner feelings followed. She spoke of her death with composure and resignation to all except her daughter. " My father is waiting for me in the other world," said she, " and I shall soon go to him" By a great effort she wrote, with her palsied hand, a few affectionate words of farewell to her most intimate friends . Two days before her death, she read Lord Byron's Man- fred, then just published ; and expressed as clear and distinct an opinion on its poetry as she would have done at any moment of her life. The morning before she died, she pointed to these two beautiful passages, and said they expressed all she then felt: '■ Lo! the clankless cl^ain bath bound thee; O'er thy heart and brain together, Hath the word been passed — now wither ! "Oh, that I were The viewless spirit of a love'y sound, A living voice, a breathing harmony, A bodiless enjoy:nent — born and dying. With the blest tone, which made me ! " ' Late that night, as her daughter was kneeling by her bedside, she tried to speak to her of her ap- proaching dissolution ; but the last agony of a mother's heart came over her, and she could not ; she asked her to go into the next room, and then she became calm agiin. Miss Randall, her long- known and affectionate friend, whom she had al- ways wished to have w^ith her at the last moment, remained alone with her until morning. Once, as 104 MADAME DE STAEL. she revived from a temporary state of insensibility^ she said, " I believe I can realize what it is to pass from life to death : our ideas are confused, and v^^e do not suffer intensely. I am sure the goodness of God will render the transition easy." Her hopes were not disappointed. At about two o'clock she fell asleep ; and so tranquil was this last slumber, that it was only when at four o'clock she ceased to breathe, without any movement, or change of fea- ture, that it became too certain she would wake no more. She died on Monday, July I4th, 1817, at the age of fiftyone.' Her remains were carried to Coppet, and placed, as she had desired, by the side of hef- father. During her life-time, she had caused a beautiful bas-relief to be placed upon his monument. It represented a light celestial form, extending her hand to another figure, who looks back with com- passion upon a young female, veiled and prostrate before a tomb. Under these emblems are repre- sented Madame Necker, her husband, and their daughter ; the two first passing from this world to immortal life. M. de Rocca, whose fragile health had so often made Madame de Stael tremble for a life on which she leaned all her hopes, while her own existence was in the fulness of its vigor, was destined to sur- vive her ; but grief soon finished the work which illness had begun. He went to linger out his few brief days under the beautiful sky of Provence where a brother received his last sigh. He expir- MADAME DE STAEL. 105 ed in the night of the 29th or 30th of January, 1818, in his thirtyfirst year. Their only child was confided to the affectionate car^ of the Duchess de Broglie. Simond, in his tour through Switzerland, visited Coppet, soon after the death of Madame de Stael. He pays the following tribute to her memory : * Death has disarmed her numerous political ene- mies ; and the tongue of slander is silent. Her warm, generous, forgiving temper, her romantic enthusiasm, her unrivalled powers of conversation, her genius, are alone remembered. The place of this extraordinary woman is marked among the most eloquent writers of any age ; among the best delineators of human feelings and passions ; among the truest historians of the heart. She might not possess much positive knowledge ; some- times she spoke of things she did not thoroughly understand ; her imao-ination often took the lead of her judgment ; but her errors were invariably on the generous side, and still bespoke greatness of mind and elevated sentiment.' When Madame de Stael made a final arrange- ment of her affairs, a short time before her decease, she requested her children to declare her second marriage, and to publish her great work on the French Revolution, although she had not been able to complete it. The idea of finishing this book had been a favorite project, of which she had never lost sight from the time of her father's death, until the near approach of her own. Her first 106 MADAME DE STAEL. effort is to vindicate M. Necker's memory from the aspersions cast upon it by his enemies ; and to prove that his political conduct was ever influenced by the purest, most patriotic, and most consistent motives. She had remarkable opportunities for obtaining full and accurate information concerning the startling scenes of the French Revolution, and the causes which produced them ; and in describ- ing them, she has singularly combined the anima- ted and fervid eloquence of an eye-witness, with the calmness and candor of an historian. The im- partiality with which she speaks of Bonaparte, after all she had suffered from him, shows that she possessed true greatness of soul. Indeed, a forgiv- ing temper was one of Madame de Stai Ts prevail- ing characteristics. No injuries could excite her to revenge ; she resented for a moment, but she never hated. She was so fearful of being ungen- erous, that she was less likely to speak ill of her ene- mies, for the very reason that they were her enemies. There was but one offence, which she never par- doned ; and that was a disrespectful word of her father. In such cases, she never resorted to retali- ation ; but she maintained toward the individual a perpetual coldness and reserve. The envious and frivolous Madame de Genlis, who, to considerable talent united an excessive vanity, was always attacking her distinguished rival with bitter criticisms and sarcastic remarks ; but Madame de Stael was never provoked to retort by an unkind word ; she praised her when she couldj MADAME DE STAEL. 107 and when she could not, she was silent. When .Madame de Genlis, at last, spoke, unfavorably of Madame Necker, she exclaimed, ' Does she sup- pose, because I do not return her attacks upon my- self, that I will not defend my mother ! Madame de Genlis may say what she will of my writings ; and for myself, she may either love, or fear me. But I. will defend my dead mother, who has nobody else in the world to take her part. True, she loved my fath(H' better than she did me — and by that I know that I have all her blood in my veins ; as lonor as that blood circulates, she shall not be at- tacked with impunity !' Her friends represented to her that, as she was then exiled and persecuted, attacks on those she loved would only be multiplied by taking notice of them; and her indignation subsided, as rapidly as it had arisen. The fragments of the journal she kept after she left France have been published by her son and the Due de Broglie, under the title of the Ten Years' Exile of Madame de Stael. It is astonishing that she was able to observe so much of the countries through which she passed with rapidity and fear^ on her way to England. Madame de Stael wrote the articles Aspasia, Camoens, and Cleopatra, for La Biographic Uni- verselle. Her works were all collected and pub- lished in one edition by her children ; accompanied by a notice of her life and writings, by Madame Necker de Saussure. Such was the life of Madame de Stael — which lOS MADAME DE STAEL. through its whole course, more resembled a long continued and brilliant triumph than the ordinary r lot of mortals. Yet none of us would wish such a destiny for a sister, or a child. She herself had suffered so keenly from the envy and evil feelings which always darken the bright path of genius, that she exhorted her daughter not to follow in her footsteps. She talked freely to her children of the dangers into which she had been led by her active imagination and ardent feelings : she often quoted her motto to Deiphine, ' A man ought to know how to brave the opinion of the world ; a woman should submit to it.' Madame de Stael, with all her errors, deserves our highest respect and admiration. Her defects, whether as an author or a wonian, always sprung from the excess of something good. Everything in her character tended to extremes. She had an expansive freedom, a mighty energy of soul, which never found room enough in this small world of ours. ; Her spirit was impatient within the narrow bounds of time and space, and was forever aspiring to something above the destiny of mortals. If we are disposed to blame her eagerness for all kinds of distinction, we must remember that her ambitious parents educated her for display, and that she was endowed with talents, which made every eifort a victory. If there is much to forgive, there is more to admire ; and few will censure her, if none speak harshly but those who have had equal temptations. The most partial cannot deny that MADAME DE STAEL 109 she had many faults ; but they are so consecrated by unrivalled genius, by kindness, disinterested- ness, and candor, that we are willing to let the veil of oblivion rest upon them forever, and to remem- ber only that no woman was ever gifted v/ith a clearer head, or a better heart. NOTE. LIST OF "WORKS REFERRED TO. MS. Lectures on French Literature, by Professor Ticknor. Notice sur le Caractere et les Ecrits de Madame de Stael, par Madame Necker de Saussure. La Biograpbie Universelle. Simond'sTourin Switzerland. Sir John Sinclair's Correspondence. Memoirs and Correspondence of Baron de Grimm. Ten Years' Exile of Madame de Stael. Considerations on the French Revolution, by Madame de Stael. Moore's Life of Byron. '■ Lavalette's Memoirs. Sir Walter Scott's Life of Napoleon, O'Meara's Voice from St Helena. Edinburgh Review. Monthlj'- Anthology. Encyclopsedia Americana. J MADAME ROLAND • O, Liberie, que de crimes on commet en ton nom ! ' Manon- Jeanne Phlipon, afterward Madame Roland, was born at Paris, in 1754. Her father was an engraver, not particularly distinguishe.l in his art. He seems to have been a common-place character, fond of money, and vain of his superfi- cial acquaintance with the fine arts. His daughter tells us that ' though he trafficked with tradesmen, he formed connexions only with artists. He could not be said to be a virtuous man, but he had a great deal of what is called honor. He had no objection to selling a thing for more than it wa8 worth, but he would have killed himself rather than not pay the stipulated price of what he had agreed to purchase.' M. Phlipon married a very beautiful woman, with small fortune, but greatly his superior in intelli- gence and dignity of character. They had seven children ; of whom Manon-Jeaune was the second ; 112 MADAME ROLAND. all the others died in infancy. After being two years with a faithful nurse in the country, watched over by a very devoted god-mother, Mademoiselle Phlioon was brouo:ht home to her father's. Her J. o gentle and discreet mother soon gained an ascen- dency over her youthful mind, which she never lost. At two years' old, she describes herself as a ' little brunette, whose dark hair played gracefully on a face animated by a blooming complexion.' The young lady was full of spirits, active, and not a little obstinate ; yet Madame Phlipon had never occasion to punish her in any other way than by fixing her eye sternly upon her, and gravely saying, * llademoiseUe ! ^ ' Madame Roland, while writing her Memoirs, during the last days of her life, says — ' I still feel the impression made upon me by her look ; I still hear, with a beating heart, the word if3Iade7?ioiscIIe substituted, with heart-rending dignity, for the kind name of daughter, or the elegant appellation of Manon. Yes, Manon /* I am sorry for the lovers of romance : there is certainly nothing noble in the name, nor is it at all suited to a heroine of the lofty kind ; but as a istorian, I cannot dis- guise the truth. The most fastidious would have become reconciled to the sound of this name, could they have seen my mother, and heard it pronounced in her soft, affectionate tone.' But though thus easily swayed by Madame Phli- pon, the child often rebelled against the imperious or- * Synonymous with Molly. MADAME ROLAND. 113 ders of her father, and would never readily submit to anything of which she did not perceive the reason, u Anything like coercion made her as furious^as alion. Several times, she bit her father, while he was whip- ping her. When about six years old, it was one day necessary for her to take some nauseous medicine. At her mother's solicitation, she several times at- tempted to drink it, but turned away her head with loathing. Her father came in, and threatened her with the rod. This roused the native stubbornness of her character ; and from that moment she deter- mined she would not try to do as they w^ished. After a severe whipping, she attempted to throw the physic away. Her father, being very angry, a second time punished her still more severely. A violent uproar succeeded ; but the child was not subdued. Her father then promised her a third, and still more cruel whipping. Her cries and sobs suddenly ceased — calmly and firmly, she pushed the cup from her, and offered herself to the rod^ determined to die rather than submit. In relating this scene, she speaks of it as the first development of that heroic fortitude, which supported her through the horrors of the French Revolution. Her moth- er was, of course, dreadfully agitated : having persuaded her husband to leave the room, she put the little girl to bed, and left her, without saying a word. When the child had rested two hours, she returned, and, vv^ith tears in her eyes, entreated her to take the medicine, without occasioning her any further vexation ; the little girl, melted by her geii- 114 MADAME ROLAND. tleness, looked steadily in her face, and swallowed it at a single draught. , From that time, her father never undertook to punish her. He adopted his wife's system of mild- ness and reason, and tried to gain his daughter's affections by walking with her, teaching her to draw, and entering into kind conversations with her. Being the only child of parents in easy circum- stances, Mademoiselle Phlipon received a more careful education than was usually bestowed upon young ladies of her class in life. Her bright and active mind made rapid progress in everything she undertook. At four years old, she read so well that no further trouble was required, except to sup- ply her with books enough. A prize obtained from the priest, to whom she said her Sunday lessons, seems to have given an early impulse to her ambi- tion. Indeed it is evident that, from her infancy, she was considered, both by herself and her parents, as a very extraordinary little personage. She says, ' I learned everything it was thought proper to give me. I should have repeated the Koran, had I been taught to read it. I shall always remember a painter named Guibol, whose panegyric on Poussin obtained a prize from the Academy at Rouen. He frequently came to, my father's ; and being a merry fellow he told me many extravagant tales, which amused me exceedingly ; nor was he less diverted with making me display my slender stock of know- ledge in return. I think I see him now, with a figure bordering on the grotesque, sitting in jan MADAME ROLAND, 115 armed chair, taking me between his knees, on which I rested my elbows, and making me repeat the Athanasian Creed ; then rewarding my compliance with the story of Tanger, whose nose was so long, that he was obliged, when he walked, to twist it round his arm : this is not the most absurd contrast that might be exhibited.' Masters were employed ' to instruct her in writing, geography, music, and dancing; and a maternal uncle, who was an ec- clesiastic, complied with her earnest request to teach her Latin. Such was her quickness of ap- prehension, and her eagerness to learn, that every new subject of study was a feast to her. She used to rise at five o'clock in the morning, when every . one else in the house was asleep, and steal softly ' to a corner of her mother's chamber, where her books were deposited ; and there she studied and copied her lessons with such assiduity, that every- body was astonished at the progress she made.j She says, ' My masters consequently, became more affectionate : gave me longer lessons ; and took such an interest in my instruction as excited me to new efforts. I never had a master, who did not appear as much flattered by teaching me, as I was grateful for being taught ; or one v/ho, after attending me a year or two, was not the first to say that his instructions were no longer necessary — that he ought no longer to be paid, but should be glad of permission to visit my parents, in order to converse with me sometimes.' Mademoiselle Phlipon did not get along so fast 116 MADAME ROLAND. in her Latin, as in her other studies ; because her uncle Birnont was a social, merry priest, who much preferred a frolic with his lively little niece, 1o hear- ing her decline nouns and conjugate verbs. How- ever, to the imperfect knowledge she obtained from him, she attributes the singular facility she after- ward had in acquiring other languages. She says, * My studies completely occupied my days, which always seemed too short ; for I could never get through all I was inclined to undertake. I soon exhausted all the books the small family library contained. I devoured every volume, and began the same over again, when no new ones were to be obtained. Two folio Lives of the Saints, an old version of the Bible, a translation of Appian's Civil Wars, and a description of Turkey, written in a wretched style, I read over and over again. I also found the Comical Romance of Scarron ; some collections of pretended bon mots, on which I did not bestow a second perusal ; the Memoirs of the brave de Pontis, which diverted me much ; those of Mademoiselle de Montpensier, whose pride did not displease me ; and several other antiquated works, the contents, binding, and spots of which I have still before my eyes. Indeed, the passion for learning possessed me to such a degree, that having picked up a treatise on the art of Heraldry, I set myself instantly to study it. It had colored plates, with which I was diverted, and was glad to know the names of all the little figures they contained. My father was astonished when I gave him a spe- MADAME ROLAND. 117 cimen of my science, by making some remarks on a seal, that was not engraved according to the rules of art. On this subject, I became his oracle, nor did I ever mislead him. I also endeavored to learn a short Treatise on Contracts, which fell into my hands ; but it tired me so soon, that I did not get to the fourth chapter. In searching the house, I found a recess in my father's work-shop, where one of the young men in his employ kept his books. This discovery furnished me with a store of reading. I carried off a volume at a time to devour in my little closet, taking great care to put it in place as soon as I had done. In this way, I read a great many vol- umes of Travels, of which I was passionately fond ; some Plays, of second-rate authors ; and Dacier's Plutarch. This last was more to my taste, than anything I had seen ; not even excepting pathetic stories, which always affected me power- fully. Plutarch seemed to be exactly the intellect- ual food that suited me : I shall never forget the Lent of 1763,, at which time I was nine years of age, when I carried it to church, instead of the Exer- cise for the Holy Week. From that period, I may date the impressions and ideas which rendered me a republican without my ever dreaming of becom- ing one : I actually wept because I was not born a Spartan or a Roman ! ' About the same time she became captivated w^ith the waitings of Tasso and Fenelon ; some passa- ges of which excited and agitated her so much, that she says she would have plucked out her 118 MADAME ROLAND. tongue rather than have attempted to read them aloud. Her father, wishing to foster her propensity for serious studies, gave her Fenelon on female education, and Locke on the education of children in general. These books, intended for mature minds, would not have been read by many girls of her age ; but Mademoiselle Phlipon appears to have read them to some purpose, deriving from them habits of thought, and self-examination. She received instructions in engraving, as well as drawing ; and during childhood, her birth-day presents to relatives usually consisted of some pretty head drawn by herself, or a flower neatly engraved on copper, with a compliment written beneath. These things, however, were merely intended as innocent and delightful resources, during the many lonely hours, which the destiny of woman almost always imposes upon her. Her judicious mother did not wish to see her entirely engrossed in such employments, even for the sake of great excellence ; for she was aware that she should not contribute to her daughter's happiness, or usefulness, by making her an artist. With regard to dress, Madam Phlipon did as the parents of an only child are too apt to do. Madame Roland says, ' In her own dress she was plain, sometimes even negligent ; but I was her doll, and it was her great delight to see me fine. From my infancy I was dressed with a degree of elegance, that seemed unsuitable to my condition. The young ladies of that period wore long trains MADAME ROLAND. 119 to their robes, which swept the pavement as they walked. These trains were trimmed according to the taste of the wearer. Mine were of fine silk, of some simple pattern and modest color, but in price and quality equal to my mother's best gala suits. My toilette was a grievous business. My hair was papered and fi-izzed, and tortured with hot irons, and other barbarous implements used at that time, until my sufferings actually forced the tears from my eyes. Considering the retired life I led, some will ask for whose eyes all this finery was intended ? It is true, that my mother was almost always at home, and received very little company. Two days in the week, however, we always went abroad; once to visit my father's relations, and once,'which was on Sunday, to see my grandmother Bimont, to go to church, and to take a walk. My grandmother was a handsome woman, who at an early age had suffered an attack of the palsy, from which her understanding had sustained a permanent injury. From that time she had gradually de- clined into a state of dotage ; spending her- days in her easy-chair, either at the window or the fire-side, according to the season. An old servant, who had been forty years in the family, regularly gave me my afternoon's repast, as soon as I entered. When that was over, I grew dreadfully tired of the visit. I sought for books, but could find none except the Psalter ; and for want of better employment I read the French, and chanted the Latin, twenty times over. When I was gay, my grandmother would 120 MADAME ROLAND. often weep, uttering grievous cries, that frightened and distressed me ; and if I fell down, or hurt my- self in any way, she would laugh aloud. It was in vain to tell me all this was the effect of her disease ; I did not find it any more agreeable on that account. My mother considered, it a sacred duty to pass two hours listening to the old servant's garrulity. This was a painful exercise to my patience ; but I was forced to submit to it : one day, when I cried for vexation, and begged to go away, my mother, as a punishment staid the whole evening. She took proper occasions to impress it upon my mind that her assiduous attention to a helpless parent was a sacred and becoming duty, in \yhich it was honorable for me to participate. I know not how she managed it, but my heart received the lesson with emotion. Beside these regular family- visits, there were others paid on great occasions, such as new-year's day, weddings, christenings, &c, which afforded sufficient opportunities for the gratification of vanity. Those acquainted with the manners of what was then called the bourgeoisie of Paris, w^ill know that there were thousands of them, whose expense in dress (by no means inconsiderable) had no other object than, an exhibition of. a few hours, on Sun- day, in the Ttiikries ; to which their^ wives joined the display of their finery at church, and the pleas- ure of parading their own quarter of the town, be- fore their admh-ing neighbors. But my education afforded many strong contrasts. The young lady elegantly dressed for exhibition ~ MADAxME ROLAND. 121 at church and in the public walks on Sunday, and whose manners and language were perfectly con- sistent with her appearance, could nevertheless, go to market with her mother in a linen frock, or step into the street alone, to buy a salad, which the servant had forgotten. It is true, I was not much pleased with these commissions ; but I showed no signs of dislike. I behaved with so much civility, yet with so much dignity, that the shop-keepers always took pleasure in serving me first ; yet those who came before me were never offended. I was sure to pick up some compliment or other in the w^ay, which only served to make me more polite. The same child, who read systematic works, who could explain the circles of the celestial sphere, who could handle the crayon and the graver, and who at eight years of age was the best dancer in the youthful parties, was frequently called into the kitchen to make an omelet, pick herbs, or skim the pot. This mixture of serious studies, agree- able relaxations, and domestic cares, was rendered pleasant by my mother's good management, and fitted me for everything : it seemed to for bode the vicissitudes of my future life, and enabled me to bear them. In every place I am at home : I can pre- pare my- own dinner with as much address as Philo- poemen cut wood ; but no one seeing me thus en- gaged, would think it an office, in which I ought to be employed." Madame Phlipon was a pious woman, and of course earnestly endeavored to instil religious feel- IS'i MADAME ROLAND. ^ ings into the mind of her child. These maternal in- tructions, rendered doubly impressive by the solemn ritual of the Catholic church, soon kindled her ar- dent nature into a blaze of enthusiasm. She read with avidity the explanations of the church cere- monies, and treasured up their mystic signification in her memory. Again and again she studied the Lives of the Saints, and regretted those happy days when the persecuting fury of paganism conferred the crown of martyrdom upon courageous christians. Her active imagination invested the solitude and silence of the cloister, with everything grand and romantic. Before she experienced this state of mind, the idea of leaving her mother had been ex- tremely painful to her ; the least mention of it drew forth a flood of tears. Her friends, being aware of this feelino;, would sometimes amuse themselves by talking of the propriety of sending young ladies to a convent for a few years ; and smile to observe the sudden clouds, which quick sensibility would spread over her expressive coun- tenance. But now the state pf things was quite different ; all her thoughts were occupied with the idea of withdrawing from the world and its pleas- ures. One evening, being alone with her parents, she fell at their feet, and with a torrent of tears besought them to send her to a convent, that she might prepare for her first communion in a frame of mind suitable to the solemnity of the occasion This request affected her parents deeply ; and was immediately complied with. MADAME ROLAND. 123 After some inquiries into the character of the nu- merous convents, Mademoiselle Phlipon was con- ducted to the Sisterhood of the Congregation, in the Rue Neuve St Etienne. She says, ' While press- ing my dear mother in my arms, at the moment of parting with her for the first time in my life, I thought my heart would have burst ; but I was act- ing in obedience to the voice of God, and passed the threshold of the cloister, tearfully offering up to him the greatest sacrifice I was capable ofmak- ing. This was on the seventh of May, 1765, when I was eleven years and two months old.' ' In the gloom of a prison, in the midst of politi- cal storms, which ravage my country, and sweep away all that is dear to me, how shall I recall to my mind and how describe the rapture and tran- quillity I enjoyed at this period of my life ! What lively colors can express the soft emotions of a young heart endued with tenderness and sensibil- ity, greedy of happiness, beginning to be alive to the beauties of nature, and perceiving the Deity alone ! The first night I spent at the convent was a night of ao-itation. I was no 16na;er under the paternal roof I Vv^as at a distance from that kind mother, who was doubtless thinking of me with affectionate emotion. A dim light diffused itself through the room in which I had been put to bed, with four children of my own age. I stole softly from my couch, and drew near the window, the light of the moon enabling me to distinguish the ' garden, which it overlooked. The deepest silence 124 MADAME ROLAND. prevailed around, and I listened to it, if I may use the expression, with a sort of respect. Lofty trees cast their gigantic shadows along the ground, and promised a secure asylum to peaceful meditation. I lifted up my eyes to the heavens ; they were un- clouded and serene. I imagined that I felt the presence of the Deity smiling on my sacrifice, and already offering me a reward in the consolatory hope of a celestial abode. Tears of delight flowed down my cheeks. I repeated my vows with holy ecstasy, and went to bed again to taste the slumber of the elect. As it was evening when I came to the convent, I had not yet seen all my fellow boarders. ' Thirtyfour were assembled in one school-room. They were from the age of six to that of eighteen ; the older and the younger being divided into separate classes. There was so much of the little woman about me, that it was immediately judged proper to include me with the elder set. I accordingly became the twelfth at their table, and found my- self the youngest of them all. My correct mode of speaking, the sedate air Vvhich had become ha- bitual, and the tone of politeness rendered familiar to me by my mother's manner, bore very little re- semblance to the noisy mirth of my thoughtless companions. I inspired the children with confi- dence, because I never gave them a rude answer ; and the older girls treated me with respect because my seriousness procured particular attention from the nuns, while it did not lessen my desir^o oblige MADAME ROLAND. 125 them. Educated as I had hitherto been, it was not surprising that I was better informed than most of my class, though the youngest of them all. The nuns perceived they could derive honor from my education without taking any pains to continue it. I became the favorite of the whole sisterhood ; it was quite a matter of contention who should caress and compliment me. In addition to the convent studies, I still received lessons in music and drawing. The regularity of a life filled up with such a variety of studies was well suited to the ac- tivity of my mind, and to my natural taste for meth- od and application. I was one of the first at every- thing ; yet I always had leisure, because I was dil- igent, and did not lose a moment of my time. In the hours set apart for recreation, I felt no desire to run and play with the crowd, but retired to some solitary spot to read and meditate. With what de- light w-as I filled by the beauty of the foliage, and the fragrance of the flowers ! Everywhere I per- ceived the hand of Deity ! * A novice took the veil soon after my arrival at the convent. I still feel the agitation which her slight- ly tremulous voice excited in my bosom, when she melodiously chanted the customary verse, " Here have Icliosen my abode, and will establishit forever ? I can repeat the notes as accurately as if I had heard them yesterday ; and happy should I be, if I could chant them in America ! Oh God ! with what emphasis should I utter them now !* * It will be recollected that Madame Roland wrote her memoirs in prison, during the reign of Robespierre. 126 MADAME ROLAND. ' When the novice, after pronouncing her vows, was covered with a pall, under which one might have supposed her to have been buried, I was no longer myself — I was the very victim of the sac- rifice. I thought they were tearing me from my mother, and shed torrents of tears. * With sensibility like this, which renders impres- sions so profound, existence never grows languid. I have never found mine a burden, even in. the midst of the severest trials : and though not yet forty, I have lived to a prodigious age, if life be measured by the sentiment that has marked every moment of its duration. ^ I received my first communion at the festival of the Assumption, soon after I was placed at the convent. Prepared by all the customary means, by retirement, long prayers, silence, and meditation, I considered it as a solemn engagement, and the pledge of eternal felicity. It excited my imagina- tion, and softened my heart to such a degree, that, bathed in tears, and enraptured with divine love, I was incapable of walking to the altar without the assistance of a nun, who took me under both arms, and bore me to the sacred table. These demonstra- tions of a feeling entirely unaffected procured me great consideration, and all the good old women I met were sure to recommend themselves to my prayers.' During her residence in the convent, her parents came every Sabbath to walk with her in the Jardin du Roi. Although very happy among her young MADAME ROLAND. 127 companions, she never parted from her mother with- out tears. ' Yet,' she says, ' I returned from these excursions with pleasure to the silent clois- ters, and walked through them with measured step, the better to enjoy their solitude. Sometimes I would stop at a tomb, on which the eulogy of a pious maiden was engraved. " She is happy," said I to myself, with a sigh. And then a melancholy, not without its charms, would take possession of my soul, and make me long to be received into the bosom of the Deity, where I hoped to find that perfect felicity, of which I felt the want.' She remained with the nuns a year ; during which time she formed an intimate friendship with Sophia Cannet, whose family were allied to the nobility; this friendship continued through her life ; and she attributes her facility in writing to the constant correspondence which she maintained with this young lady, after their separation. Another friendship, equally permanent existed between her and a nun, many years her senior, called Saint Agatha. At the time Mademoiselle Phlipon left this peace- ful retreat, her father was engaged in parish affairs, that called him much from home ; and her mother, being obliged to superintend his business, could not watch over her daughter so continually as she deemed necessary ; it was therefore decided that she should reside for a time v/ith her grandmother Phlipon, and her great-aunt Angelica. Her paternal grandmother was a graceful, lady- 128 MADAME ROLAND. like matron, who thought a great deal of outward elegance, and refinement of manner ; aunt An- gelica was meek, affectionate, and pious. With these good old relatives Mademoiselle Phlipon pass- ed her thirteenth year, secluded from all intercourse with the world, save an occasional visit to her mother, or to her friends at the convent. An anecdote, which she relates at this time, serves y to show how early her republican mind began to be troubled by any assumption of superiority in rank. ' My grandmother one day took it in her head to visit Madame de Boismorel,v/ith whom she was remotely connected, and whose children she had partly educated. Great were the preparations in consequence ; and tedious was the business of dressing, which began at break of day. On en- . tering the mansion, all the servants, beginning with the porter, saluted Madame Phlipon with an air of respect and affection. She ansv/ered every one in the kindest and most dignified manner ; so far, all went well. But she could not deny herself the pleasure of pointing out her grand-daughter ; and the servants must needs pay fine compliments to the young lady. I had an uncomfortable feeling, for which I could not account ; but which I per- ceived to proceed, in part, from the idea that ser- vants might look at, and admire me, but that it was not their business to pay me compliments.'*'^ *Iike many republicans of maturer years, she seems, at this period, to have been anxious to level doion to herself, but not to level ujy. MADAME ROLAND. 129 We were announced by a tall footman, and walk- ed into the parlor, where we found Madame de Boismorel seated upon an ottoman, embroidering with great gravity. Her dress bespoke less taste than desire to display her opulence, and indicate her rank ; while her countenance, far from ex- pressing any wish to please, announced her claims to respect, and the consciousness of her merit. Rouge, an inch thick, gave her unmeaning eyes a much more unfeeling look than was necessary to make me fix mine upon the ground. " A, Mad- emoiselle Rotisset ; good morning to you !" cried Madame de Boismorel, in a loud and frigid tone, while rising to receive us. (''So my grandmother is called 3IadenioisdIe, in this house," thought I to myself) " I am very glad to see you, indeed. And who is this fine girl ? Your grand-daughter, I sup- pose 1 She promises to make a pretty Vv'oman. Come here, my dear. She is a little bashful. How old is your grand-daughter, Mademoiselle Rotisset ? She is a little brown, to be sure ? but her skin is clear, and will grow fairer a year or two hence. She is quite the woman already. I will lay my life, that hand must be a lucky one. Did you ever venture in the lottery, my dear?" '' Never, madam: I am not fond of gaming." "What an admirable voice ! So sweet, and yet so full-toned ! But how grave she is ! Pray, my dear, are you not a little of the devotee ?" " I know my duty to God, and I endeavor to fulfil it." "That 's a good girl. You wish to take the veil, don't you ?" "I do not \/ 130 MADAME ROLAND. know what will be my destination ; nor do I at pre- sent seek to conjecture it." " Very sententious in- deed ! Your grand-daughter reads a great deal, does she not, Madamoiselle Rotisset'?" " Heading, madam, is her greatest delight." " Ay, ay, I see how it is ; but have a care she does not turn author ; , that would be a pity indeed." The ladies then began to talk of the health and the follies of their family connexions. I took a survey of the apart- ment, the decorations of which pleased me much more than the lady to whom they belonged. My blood circulated more rapidly than usual, my cheeks glowed, and my little heart was all of a flutter. I did not yet ask myself why 7}iy gramlmotlier was not seated on the' ottoman, and why Madame de Eois- morel was not playing the humble part of my aunt Angelica; but I had the feelings, which naturally lead to such reflections.' After a year's residence with her grandmother, she returned home. She says, ' It was not without regret that I left the handsome streets of the Isle St Louis, the pleasant quays, and the tranquil banks of the Seine, where I was accustomed to take the air with my aunt Angelica, in the serene summer evenings. Along those quays I used to pass, without meeting a single object to interrupt my meditations, when, in the fervency of my zeal, I repaired to the temple to pour out my whole sou at the foot of the altar. Notwithstanding my love for my mother, I took leave of my aged relatives with a flood of tears. My grandmother's gayety MADAME ROLAND, 131 had given a charm to her qaiet residence, in which I had passed so many happy days. I was still going to reside upon the banks of the Seine ; but the sit- uation of my father's house was not solitary and peaceful, like that of his mother. The moving picture of the Pont Neuf y^xiq^l the scene every moment ; and literally, as well as figuratively, I entered the world, when I returned to my paternal roof. A free air a.nd an unconfined space still, however, gave scope to my romantic imagination. How many times have I contemplated Vv^ith tears of delight the vast expanse of heaven, audits azure dome, designed with so much grandeur, stretching from the gray east beyond the Pont-au-Change to the trees of the mall, and the houses of Chaillot, resplendent with the setting sun ! I know not if sensibility give a mare vivid hue to every object, or if certain situations, which do not appear very remarkable, contribute powerfully to develope it, or if both be not leciprocally cause and effect ; but when I review the events of my life, I find it diffi- cult to assign ta circumstances, or to my disposition, that variety and that plenitude of affection, which have so strongly marked every point of itsduration, and left me so clear a remembrance of every place at which I have been. ' Her passion for reading continued unabated ; and she seems to have been allowed to indulge it without control, or guidance. As her father's li- brary was very limited, she was obliged to borrow and hire books ; the necessity of returning them 132 - MADAME ROLAND. soon led to the habit of making copious extracts, and of forming abstracts of what she had read ; thus, as is often the case, privation became a bless- . ing. The Abbe le Jay, with whom her uncle Bimont boarded, gave her the free use of his libra- ry, which proved a great resource for her during his life-time ; a period of about three years. One of his brothers having ruined himself, the Abbe lost his senses, and died in consequence of a fall from his window. Mademoiselle d' Hannaches, a relative who had superintended his house for many years, went to board with Madam Phlipon after his death. Madame Roland says, 'This lady was tall, dry, and sallow; with a shrill voice; proud of her descent ; and tiring everybody with her economy and her pedigree. While she was accommodated in my mother's house, she was in- volved in an intricate law-suit concernins; her inheritance. I was her secretary. 1 wrote her letters, copied her dear genealogy, drew up the petitions, which she presented to the president and the attorney-general of the parliament, and some- times accompanied her when she went to make in- ^ terest with persons of consequence. I easily per- ceived that, notvi^ithstanding her ignorance, her stiff demeanor, her bad v/ay of expressing herself, and her other absurdities, respect was paid to her origin. The names of her ancestors (which she never failed to repeat) were attended to, and great pains were taken to obtain what she desired. I comparsd the honorable reception she met with. MADAME ROLAND. 133 to that given me, when I went with my grand- mother to visit Madame de Boismorel — a visit which had left a deep impression on my mind. I could not help feeling my superiority over Mad- emoiselle d'Hannaches, who, with her genealogy, and at the age of forty, was unable to write a line of common sense, or even a legible hand ; and it appeared to me that the world was extremely unjust, and the institutions of society highly absurd.' Her independent feelings seem to have been still more goaded by occasional visits to the family of Lamotte, connexions of her friend, Sophia Can- net. Proud, stupid, and intolerant, the various members of this family could not forbear making a show of condescension in admitting the daughter of an artisan to their acquaintance ; a condescen- sion which aroused her proud and ambitious nature to feelings of contempt, perhaps not unmixed with bitterness. She says, ' The opulent M. Cannet, seeing the success of a tragedy written by his kinsman Belloy, and calculating the profits, ex- claimed, in sober sadness, " Why did not my father teach me to compose tragedies ! / could have worJced upon them on Sundays and holidays .'" Yet these wealthy blockheads, these pitiful possessors of purchased nobility, these impertinent soldiers, these wretched magistrates, considered themselves as the props of civil society, and actually enjoyed privileges, which merit could not obtain. I com- pared these absurdities of human arrogance with the pictures of Pope, tracing its effects in the arti- 134 MADAMEROLAND. san, as proud of his leather apron as the king of his crown. I endeavored to think, with him, that everything was right ; but my pride told me things were ordered better in a republic. No doubt our situation in life has a great influence on our char- acters and opinions ; but in the education I receiv-' ed, and in the ideas I acquired by study, and by observation of the world, everything seemed to com- bine to inspire me with republican enthusiasm, by making me perceive the folly, or feel the injustice, of a multitude of privileges and distinctions. In ^ all my readings, I took the side of the champions of equality. I was Agis and Cleomenes at Sparta : the Gracchi at Rome ; and like Cornelia,! should have reproached my sons with being called nothing but the mother-in-law of Scipio. I retired with the plebeians to the Aventine hill ; and gave my vote to the tribunes. Now that experience has taught me to appreciate everything impartially, I see in the enterprise of the Gracchi, and in the conduct of the tribunes, crimes and mischiefs, of which I was not at the time sufficiently aware. When I happened to be present at any of the great sights of the. Capital, such as the entry of the dueen, the Princesses, &c, I compared with grief this Asiatic luxury and insolent pomp, with the abject misery of the debased populace, who prostra- ted themselves before idols of their own making, and foolishly applauded the ostentatious splendor, which they paid for by depriving themselves of the necessaries of life. I was not insensible to the MADAME ROLAND. 135 effect of magnificence ; but I felt indignant at its being intended to set off a few individuals, already too powerful, though in themselves deserving little regard. When my mother took me to Versailles, to show me the pageantry of the court, I liked bet- ter to look at the statues in the gardens, than at the great personages in the palace ; and when she asked me if I were pleased with the excursion, I replied, " Yes, if it terminate speedily ; but if we stay here a few days longer, 1 shall so perfectly detest the people I see, that I shall not know what to do with my hatred," " Why," said she, " what harm do they do you." — " They give me the feel- ing of injustice, and oblige me every moment to contemplate absurdity." ' It filled me with surprise and indignation to hear people talk about the dissolute conduct of the court during the lastyears of Louis XV. and of the im- morality which pervaded all ranks of the nation. Not perceiving as yet the germs- of a revolution, I asked how things could exist in such a state. His- tory taught me that the corruption of empires was always a prelude of decline ; and when I heard .the French nation lauo-hino- and sinffinu at its own misfortunes, I felt that our neighbors were right in regarding us as children. I became familiar with the English constitution, and strongly attached to English literature, though I at present knew it only through the medium of translations. I sighed at the recollection of Athens, where I could have en- joyed the fine arts, without being annoyed by the 136 MADAME ROLAND. sight of despotism. I was out of all patience at being a Frenchwoman. Enchanted with the gold- en period of the Grecian republic, I passed over the storms by which it had been agitated ; I forgot the exile of Aristides, the death of Socrates, and the condemnation of Phocion. I little thought that heaven reserved me to be a witness of similar errors, to profess the same principles, and to participate in the glory of jhe same persecutions.' A little anecdote, which Madame Roland relates, serves to show how her observing mind learned a lesson from the most trivial occurrences, and how adroitly she made them bear upon her favorite theo- ries. Being extremely fond of rural scenery, she persuaded her father to make excursions into the country on Sunday afternoons, instead of his usual walks in the Bois de Boulogne, or the gardens of St Cloud. On some occasions, they remained in the country until the next day. One night her father attempted to draw the curtains of his bed perfectly close, and pulled the strings so hard, that the tester fell down upon him, and covered him so completely that he could not move. The landlady, being call- ed, was greatly astonished, and exclaimed with much simplicity, ' Goodness ! How could this happen ! It is seventeen years since the bed was put up ; and in all that time it has never budged an inch.' Madame Roland says, ' The logic of our hostess made me laugh more than the fall of the tester. Often afterward, when I heard political arguments, I used to whisper to my mother, ' This MADAME ROLAND. 137 is as good reasoning, as that the bed ought not to have given way, when it had remained undisturbed for seventeen years.' Her intellect, ever restless, and confident in its ■ own energies, began to employ itself in a less profitable manner than idolizing the ancients, and fashioning imaginary republics. While residing with her grandmother, she read some of the con- troversial writings of Bossuet, and learned the argu- ments of unbelievers by his attempts to refute them. How often has infidelity stolen into the ■. youthful mind through a similar channel ! From that time she besjan to make religion a matter of speculation rather than of feeling — and when did reason, rejecting revelation, and relying on its own unassisted pride, make men wise unto salvation ! ' Our meddling intellect Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things We murder to dissect.'' With cold and arrogant reason for her guide, she passed, through various states of mind, into the dark and comfortless regions of utter scepti- cism. -4- The ardor of her character was such, that she always identified herself with the persons or parties of which she read. Thus when she first entered upon religious controversy, she became enamored with the austerity of the Jansenists, be- cause her frank temper could not abide the evasive and flexible faith of the Jesuits. When she studied 138 MADAME ROLAND. Descartes and Malebranche, she considered her kit- ten merely as a piece of animated mechanism per- forming its movements. When she became ac- quainted with the ancient sects of philosophy, she persuaded herself that she was a Stoic ; and tried various experiments to prove her contempt for suf- fering. Succeeding years brought before her notice the wild and wicked systems, which the French dig- nified with the title of Philosophy, at the period ^ when Anarchy was baptized with the blood of Liberty and took her name. Thus the influences aroraid Madame Roland served to increase the darkness brought upon her by the worship of her own intellect. She became a Deist ; and sometimes shared the Atheist's incredulity. I presume no one was ever able to be always an Atheist. Rea- son, — bewildered at her own work, and frightened at her utter loneliness, — still tries to grasp at some shadow of belief, even if it be as indefinite as a ' Principle of Agency.^ In vain have systems of philosophy been based upon the utter selfishness of mankind — in vain have they ridiculed our hopes of immortality. There is that within the human heart, — and it comes directly from God, — which will not suffer us ahvays to disbelieve in better influences than mere self-love, and in holier aspirations than the cravings of appetite. Men cannot live amonsi; their fellow-beino;s and doubt the existence of human virtue ; though perchance I they may choose to call it a ' sublime instinct,' MADAME ROLAND. 139 The fables and absurd ceremonies, with which the church of Rome had become loaded in the course of centuries, no doubt had their share in disturbing the early faith of Madame Roland ; but it is equally true that had she kept her heart in all humility, false doctrines, whether they took the name of philosophy or of religion, would have had no power to mislead her. She says, ' In my in- fancy, I necessarily embraced the creed that was offered me ; it was mine until my mind was suffi- ciently enlightened to examine it ; but even then all my actions were in strict conformity with its precepts. I was astonished at the levity of those, who, professing a similar faith, acted in a different way. * I attended church, because I would not for the world afflict my mother ; and even after her death I continued to do so, for the edification of my neighbor and the good of society. Divine service, if performed with solemnity, affords me pleasure. I forget the quackery of priests, their ridiculous fables and absurd mysteries — and see nothing but weak mortals assembled together to implore the aid of the Supreme Being. If I did not carry to church the tender piety of former days, I at least maintained as much decency and attention. I did not indeed follow the priest in his recital of the service ; but I read some christian work. I always retained a great liking for St Augustine. Assur- edly there are fathers of the church, w^hom a per- son may peruse wdth delight, without being a bigot' 140 MADAME ROLAND. ed Christian — there is food in them both for the heart and the mind.' It is evident that the remains of her early piety never left her entirely. Her guardian angels lin- gered around her, and she could not wholly shut out from her soul the light in which they dwelt. She says, ' It seemed to me as if I was dissecting nature, and robbing it of all its charms. Can the sublime idea of a Divine Creator, whose Providence watches over the world, and the immortality of the soul, that consolatory hope of persecuted virtue, — can these be nothing more than splendid chimeras ? In how much obscurity are these difficult problems involved ! What accumulated objections arise when we wish to examine them with mathematical rigor ! But why should the man of sensibility re- pine at not being able to demonstrate what he feels to be true ? In the silence of the closet, and the /dryness of discussion, I can agree with the atheist, or the materialist; but when I contemplate nature, my soul, full of emotion, soars aloft to the vivifying principle that animates creation, to the almighty intellect that pervades it, to the goodness that makes it so delightful to our senses ! And now, when immense walls separate me from all I love, I see the reward of mortal sacrifices beyond the limits of this life. How ? In what manner ? I cannot say — I only feel that so it must be. ^I have sometimes been overcome with emotion while my heart exalted itself to that supreme intel- ligence, that first cause, that gracious providence, MADAME ROLAND. 141 that principle of thought and of sentiment, ^ which it felt the necessity of believing and of acknow- ledging. " O Thou, who hast placed me on the earth enable me to fulfil my destination in the man- ner most conformable to the divine will, and most beneficial to my fellow-creatures :" This unaffected prayer, as simple as the heart that dictated it, has become my only one : never have the doubts of philosophy, or the excitements of the world, been able to dry up its source. Amid the tumults of society, and in the depth of a dungeon, I have pro- nounced it with equal fervorr In the most brilliant circumstances of my life I uttered it with transport; and in fetters I repeat it with resignation.' In these expressions we see glimmerings of bet- ter things than the scoffer's laugh, or the sceptic's sneer — and with the hope that Madame Roland's irreligion was more in her head than her heart, I will entirely dismiss a subject alike painful and unprofitable. Madame Roland did not entertain the com- mon, but very erroneous idea, that when she left school education was completed. After her return home, she continued to read and study, and never neglected an opportunity of learning any- thing. The various kinds of needlework, taught her by her grandmother, served to amuse the long evenings, during which her mother usually read aloud ; the advantage of this custom was doubled by her constant habit of writing down, every morn- ing, those passages, or thoughts, which had struck 142 MADAME ROLAND. her most forcibly the evening preceding. For some time, she continued to take lessons in music and dancing. Her father tried to persuade her to give some attention to engraving. He offered to share the profits, according to a book he wished her to keep ; but from a dislike of mercenary motives, or a v^ant of interest in the employment, she soon threv/ aside the graver in disgust. She says, ' Nothing was so insipid to me as to engrave the edge of a watch-case, or to ornament a bauble ; and I cared less about money to buy ribands, than time to read good authors.' Geometry became her favorite study, and for a time she applied herself to it with much industry ; but when she came to algrebra, she soon grew weary ; and her husband could never persuade her that there was anything attractive in reasoning by X and Y. For want of other books she studied several works on agriculture and economy, be- cause she could never be easy unless she was learning something. These habits, so different from those of her 3^oung companions, of course excited many remarks. Some called her a prodigy, others y a pedant; and her parents were again and again warned of the danger of her becoming a biue-stock- ing. An intelligent traveller, who visited at her father's, used to say, in a prophetic tone, ' You may do what you will to avoid it. Mademoiselle ; but you will certainly ^vrite a book : ' to v.'hich she would reply, ' Then it shall be under another name ; V for I would sooner cut off my fingers, than become MADAME ROLAND. 143 an author.' She says, ' I was fond of rendering an account of my own ideas to myself, and the interven- tion of my pen assisted me in putting them in order. When I did not employ it, I was rather lost in reveries than engaged in meditation : but with my pen I kept my imagination within bounds,, and pursued a regular chain of reasoning. Before I was twenty years old, I had begun to make some collections, which I have since auo-mented, and entitled The Works of Leisure Hours, and Various Reflections. I had nothing further in view than to have witnesses of my sentiments, which, on some future day, I might confront with one another, so that their gradations, or their changes, might serve at once as a lesson and a record. I have a pretty large packet of these juvenile works piled up in the dusty corner of my library, or perhaps in the garret. Never, howev^er, did 1 feel the smallest temptation to become an author. At a very early period, I perceived that a woman who acquires the ' title loses far more than she gains. She forfeits the affection of the male sex, and provokes the ■■/ criticism of her own. If her v/orks be bad, she is justly ridiculed ; if good, her right to them is dis- puted ; or if envy be compelled to acknovvledge the best part to be her own, her talents, her morals, and her manners, are scrutinized so severely, that the reputation of her genius is fully counterbalanc- ed by the publicity given to her defects. Besides, J happiness was my chief concern ; and I never knew the public intermeddle with the happiness 144 MADAME ROLAND. of any individual, without marring it. I know of nothing so agreeable as to be rated at our full worth by the people with whom we live ; nor any- thing so empty as the admiration of a few persons whom we are never likely to meet again. I know not what I might have become under the hands of a skilful preceptor. By applying diligently to some particular study, I might have extended some branch of science, or have acquired talents of a superior kind. But should I have been better or more useful ? I leave others to resolve the question ; certain it is, I could not have been more happy. I know of nothing to be compared to that plenitude of life, of tranquillity, of satisfaction, which I en- joyed in those days of innocence and study.' The following account gives us reason to suppose that her vanity was not wounded by her father's ap- preciation of her talents : ' As long as the fine weath- er lasted, we went on holidays to the public walks ; and my father regularly carried me to the exhibir tions of the fine arts, so frequent at Paris in those days of luxury, then called prosperity. He enjoy- ed himself much on these occasions, when he had it in his power to make an agreeable display of his superiority, by pointing out to my observation what he understood better than I ; and he was as proud of the taste I discovered, as if it were his own work. That was our point of contact — in those cases we were truly in unison. My father never lost an opportunity of showing himself to advan- tage ; and he was evidently fond of being seen in MADAME ROLAND. 145 public with a well-dressed young woman, whose blooming appearance frequently produced a mur- mur of admiration grateful to his ears. If any one accosted him, doubtful of the relation in which we stood to each other, he would say, "My daugh- ter" — with an air of modest triumph, which affect- ed me, without making me vain, for I ascribed it entirely to parental affection. If I spoke, he look- ed around to watch the effect of my voice, or of the good sense I might have uttered, and seemed to ask if he had not reason to be proud. I was sen- sible of these things ; and they sometimes made me more timid, without producing any awkward feeling ; it seemed incumbent upon me to make amends for my father's pride by my own modesty.' In the following account of her person the fear of imputed vanity seems to have been no restraint upon entire frankness : 'At fourteen years of age I had attained my full height. My stature was five feet and nearly four inches, English measure. My constitution was as vigorous as that of a prize- fighter ; my carriage w-as firm and graceful ; and my walk light and quick. My face had nothing striking in it, except a great deal of color, and much softness and expression. On examining each feature, it might be asked, "Where is the beauty ?" Not a single one is regular, and yet all please. My mouth is a little wide, — ■ you may see prettier everyday, — but you will see none with a smile more tender or engaging. My eyes are not very large, and the color of the iris is hazel ; they are 10 146 MADAME ROLAND,' sufficiently prominent, and are crowned with well- arched eye-brows, which, like my hair, are of a dark brown. My look is frank, animated, and tender, varying in its expression, like the affection- ate heart of which it indicates the movements : serious and lofty, it sometimes astonishes ; but it charms much more, and never fails to keep atten- tion awake. My nose gave me some uneasiness — I thought it a little too full at the end ; but taken with the rest, especially in profile, the effect is not amiss. My forehead, broad and high, — with the hair retiring, supported by a very elevated orbit of the eye, and marked by veins in the form of a T, that dilated on the slightest emotion, — was far from making such an insignificant figure, as it does in many faces. My complexion was rather clear than fair ; and the freshness of my color was frequently heightened by the sudden flush of a rapid circula- tion, excited by the most irritable nerves. I had a smooth skin, a well-turned arm, and a hand which, without being small, is elegant, because its long, taper fingers give it grace, and indicate address. My teeth are white and regular ; and I had the plumpness of perfect health. Such are the gifts, with which nature had endowed me. I have lost many of them ; particularly the fulness of my form, and the bloom of my complexion ; but those which remain still hide five or six years of my age, with- out any assistance from art ; people who are in the daily habit of seeing me will hardly believe me to be more than two or three and thirty. It is only MADAME ROLAND. 147 since my beauty began to fade, that I know what was its extent ; while in its freshness, I was uncon- scious of its value, which was probably augmented by my ignorance. I do not regret its loss, because I have never abused it ; but I certainly should not be sorry, provided my duty could be reconciled with my inclination, to turn the portion that re- mains to better account than my present situation admits. My portrait has been frequently drawn, painted, and engraved ; but none of these imita- tions gives a correct idea of my person.* My likeness is very hard to hit, because the expression of my soul is more strongly marked than the lines of my countenance. An artist of common abilities cannot represent this ; possibly he does not even see it. My face acquires animation in proportion to the interest with which I am inspired, in the same manner as my mind is developed in proportion to the minds with which I communicate. I am so stupid with some people, that upon perceiving my readiness with people of wit, I have thought, in the simplicity of my heart, that I was indebted to their cleverness. I generally please, because I am fear- ful of offending ; but it is not given to all to find me handsome, or to discover what I am worth. I can suppose that an old coxcomb, enamored of himself, and vain of displaying the slender stock of science he has been so long acquiring, might be in the habit of seeing me for ten years without suspecting *The cameo o' Lanfflois is said to have been least defective. 148 MADAME ROLAND. I could do more than cast up a bill, or cut out a shirt. It was not without reason that Camille Des- moulins was astonished that "a^ my age, and with so little beauty^' I still had what he calls adorers. I never spoke to him in my life ; but it is probable that with a personage of his stamp, I should be cold and silent, if not absolutely repulsive. He was wrong in supposing me to hold a court. I hate gallants, as much as I despise slaves ; and I know perfectly vv^ell how to get rid of a flatterer. What I want is esteem and good will ; admire me afterward, if you please ; but esteem and affection I must have, at any rate : this seldom fails with those who see me often, and who at the same time possess a heart and a sound understanding. My earnest desire to please, combined with my youthful bashfulness and the austerity of my prin- ciples, diffused a peculiar charm over my person and manner : nothing could be more decent than my garb, or more modest than my deportment ; though I aspired to nothing beyond neatness in my dress, the greatest commendations were bestowed upon my good taste.' She informs us that suitors came in crowds, like bees around a newly expanded flower, and says, ' I shall describe the rising of my lovers en masse, as is proper in these days when everything is done en masse.' Her Spanish music-master, her dancing- master (an ugly little Savoyard) three jewellers, and two young advocates, were all rejected. She came very near marrying a physician, strongly MADAME EOLAND. 149 recommended by her friends. It is no wonder that instances of domestic virtue and happiness were rare in a country in which matrimonial engage- ments were managed as she describes. She says, '^ The pecuniary arangements were made before I knew anything of the matter, and the hargain was \y absokitely conchaded when I first heard that a physician had entered the lists. The profession did not displease me ; it promised an enlightened mind ; but it was necessary to become acquainted with his person. We met for the first time, accide"ntally, as I supposed, at a house where we had taken shel- ter from the rain. My cousin, who had first pro- jected the match, was with us. She assumed an air of triumph, as if she would have said, '' I did not tell you she was handsome ; but what do you think of her ?" My good mother looked kind and pensive. Our hostess was equally profuse of her wit and confectionary. The physician chattered away, and made great havoc among the sugar plums ; saying, with a sort of school-boy gallantry, that he was very fond of everything sweet; upon which the young lady observed with a soft voice, a blush, and a half smile, that the men were accused of loving sweet things, because it was necessary to make use of great sweetness in dealing with them. The cunning doctor was quite tickled with the epigram. My father would willingly have given us his benedic- tion on the spot, and was so polite that I was out of all patience with him. The doctor retired first, to pay his evening visits ; we returned as we came ; 150 MADAME ROLAND. and this vv^as called an interview. My cousin, a strict observer of punctilios, so ordered it because, forsooth, a man, who has views of marriage, ought never to set his foot in a private house, where there is a daughter, until his proposals are accepted ; but when once that is done, the marriage articles are to be signed directly, and the wedding to follow immediately. The doctor, in the habiliments of his profession, did not please me ; I never, at any period of my life, could figure to myself such a thing as love in a periwig. My mother urged me to decide at once. " What !" I exclaimed, " On the strength of a single interview 1" " Not exact- ly that," she replied ; '' M. de Gardanne's intimacy with our family enables us to judge of his conduct and way of life ; and by means of a little inquiry, we shall easily come at a knowledge of his disposi- tion. These are the principal points. The sight of the person is of very little consequence. You have attained the proper age to settle in the world : you have refused many offers from tradesmen, and they are the class of people from whom your situa- tion makes it most likely that offers will come. You seem determined never to marry a man in business. The present match is suitable in every external point of view. Take care not to reject it too lightly." ' Thus urged. Mademoiselle consented to see the doctor at her father's house ; determined, however, in her own mind that no power on earth should make her marry him, unless she liked him. Luckily, she was saved all further trouble by a dis- MADAME ROLAND. 151 pute between her lover and his intended father- in-law. M. Phlipon thought more of money than any other consideration ; he was anxious that his daugh- ter should marry a thriving man of business. She exclaimed, ' Have I then lived with Plutarch, and all the other philosophers, to no better purpose than to connect myself for life with a shop-keeper, inca- pable of seeing anything in the same light as my- self! Tell me, papa, why you suffered me to con- tract habits of study ! I know not whom I shall marry ; but it must be one who can share my thoughts, and sympathize with my pursuits.' He replied, * There are men of business possessed of politeness and information.' * That may be ; but it is not of the kind I want.' ' Do you not suppose that M and his wife are happy! They have just retired from business, keep an excellent house, and receive the best of company.' ^ I am no judge of other people's happiness; but my own affections are not fixed upon riches. I conceive, that the strictest union of hearts is requisite to con- jugal felicity. I cannot connect myself with a man who does not resemble me. My husband must be my superior ; since both nature and the laws give him the pre-eminence, I should be ashamed of him if he did not really deserve it.' ' I suppose you want a Counsellor. But women are not generally happy with those learned gentlemen. They have a great deal of pride, and very little money.' ^ Papa, I do not care about such or such a profession. I y 152 MADAME ROLAND. wish to marry a man I can love.' ' But you per- sist in thinking such a man will never be found in trade. It is, however, a pleasant thing for a woman to sit at ease in her own apartment, while her husband is carrying on a lucrative trade. Now, there's Madame D'Argens —she understands diamonds as well as her husband. She can make - good bargains in his absence, and could carry on all his business perfectly well, if she were left a widow. You are intelligent ; and you understand that branch of business, since you studied the trea- tise on precious stones. You mio;ht do whatever you please, A happy life you would have had, if you could but have fancied Delorme, Dabrieul, or' — 'Hark ye, papa — I have discovered that the only v/ way to make a fortune in trade is by selling dear what has been bought cheap ; by overcharging the customer, and beating down the poor workman. I could never descend to such practices ; nor could I respect a man, who made them his occupation from morning till night.' ' Do you then suppose there are no honest trademen 1' ' I presume there are ; but the number is not large ; and among them I am not likely to find a husband, who will sympathize with me,' ' And what will you do, if you do not y find the idol of your imagination?' ' I will live single.' 'Perhaps that will not be so pleasant as you imagine. There is time enough yet, to be sure ; but ennui will come at last ; the crowd of lovers will be gone by ; and you know the fable.' ^Oh, I would take my revenge by deserving happi- MADAME ROLAND. 153 ness from the very injustice that would deprive me of it.' - ' Now you are in the clouds again. It is very pleasant to soar to such a height; but it is not easy to keep the elevation.' Not long after this conversation, a circumstance occurred, which gave her father a pleasant oppor- tunity of humbling what he considered her romantic ideas. I will relate it in her own words : ' I have already said that my judicious mother wished me to be as much at home in the kitchen, as in the drawing-room ; and at market, as in a public walk. After my return from the convent, I often used to accompany her when she went out to purchase household articles ; and as I grew older, she some- times sent me on such errands, attended by a maid. The butcher, with whom she dealt, had lost a sec- ond wife ; and found himself, while still in the prime of life, possessed of fifty thousand crowns. I was ignorant of all these particulars. ! only per- ceived that I was well served, and with abundant civility ;' and v/as much surprised at seeing this personage frequently appear on Sunday, in a hand- some suit of black, with lace ruffles, in the same walk with ourselves, and put himself in my mother's way; to whom he always made a low bow, without accosting her. This practice continued a whole summer. I fell sick ; and every morning the butcher sent to inquire what we wanted, and to offer any accommodation in his power. These pointed atten- tions began to provoke my father's smiles. Wish- ing to divert himself, he one day introduced me to 154 MADAME ROLAND. a woman, who came to demand my hand in the butcher's name. '' You know, daughter," said he, with great gravity, " that I make it a rule to lay no constraint upon your inclinations. I shall, there- fore, only state to you a proposal in which you are principally concerned." A little vexed that my father's good-humor should turn over to me the task of giving an answer, which he ought to have taken upon himself, I screwed up my mouth to parody his mode of expression. "You know, papa," I replied, " that I am very happy in my present sit- uation, and resolved not to quit it for some years to come. You may take any steps you think pro- per in conformity to this resolution." As I said this, I withdrew. * The respectable character of my mother, the ap- pearance of some fortune, and my being an only child, made the project of matrimony a tempting one to a number of persons, who were strangers to me. The greater part, finding it difficult to obtain an introduction, adopted the expedient of writing to my parents. These letters were always shown to me. My first opinion was always grounded upon the character of the epistles, without any regard to the statements they contained of the wri- ter's rank and fortune. I wrote the answers to these letters, which my father faithfully copied. When writing was in question, he was as tractable as a child, and sat down to transcribe without the least reluctance. I was much amused at the idea of g,cting the papa. I discussed my own interests MADAME ROLAND. 155 with all the gravity suitable to the occasion, and in a style of prudence truly parental. I caused my suitors to be dismissed with dignity, without giving room for resentment or hope. Where there was not a large fortune, either possessed or expected, my father easily approved of my refusal : but where one of those requisites was found, he was much concerned at my rejection of the proffered advan- tage. Here began to break out those dissensions between my father and me, which continued ever after. He loved and respected commerce, because he regarded it as the source of riches ; I detested and despised it, because I considered it as the foundation for avarice and fraud. ' My mother's health began to decline insensibly. She had a stroke of the palsy, v/hich they tried to make me believe was the rheumatism. Serious and taciturn, she every day lost a portion of her vivacity, and grew more fond of secluding herself from the world. She often lamented that I could not prevail on myself to accept any of the offers I received. One day in particular, she urged me, with melancholy earnestness, to marry an honest jeweller, who solicited my hand. " He has in his favor," said she, " great reputation for integrity, sobriety, and mildness of disposition. He has an easy fortune, which may become brilliant; and that circumstance makes part of the merit of a man, v/ho is not remarkable for his personal advan- tages. He knows that yours is not a common mind. He professes great esteem for you ; and will no V 156 MADAME ROLAND. doubt be proud of following your advice. You might lead him in any way you like." " But, mam- ma, I do not want a husband who is to be led ; he would be too cumbersome a child for me to take care of" — " Do you know that you are a very whimsical girl ? You would not like a master." — " I certainly should not like to have a man give himself airs of authority, because that would only teach me to resist ; but I am sure I should not like a husband whom it would be necessary to govern ; I should be ashamed of my own power." " I under- stand, you would like to have a man think himself the master, while he obeyed you in everything." ^' No. It is not that, either. I hate servitude, but empire would only embarrass me . I wish to gain the' affections of a man, who would make his happi- ness consist in contributing to mine in the way that his good sense and regard for me might dic- tate." — " My daughter, there would hardly be such a thing in the world as a happy couple, if happiness could not exist without such a perfect conformity of taste and opinions as you imagine." " I do not know of a single one whose happiness I envy." — '' But among those matches you do not envy, there may be some preferable to always living single. I may be called out of the world sooner than you imagine. Your father is still young; and you can- not imagine all the disagreeable things my fondness for you makes me fear. How happy should I be, could I see you united to an honest man, before I depart this life !" MADAME ROLAND, 157 ' The idea of such an event struck me with terror. I had never thought of losing my mother — a shiv- ering seized my whole frame — and as she tried to smile at my wild and eager gaze, I burst into a flood of tears. " Do not be alarmed," said she ten- derly ; '•' I am not dangerously ill ; but in taking our resolutions, we ought to c-alculate all possible chances. A worthy man offers you his hand ; you are turned of twenty, and cannot expect so many suitors as you have had for the last five years ; I may be suddenly snatched from you ; do not then reject a husband, who, it is true, has not all the refinement you wish, but who will love you, and with whom you can be happy." " Yes, mamma," said I, with a deep sigh, " as happy as you have been." My mother was disconcerted ; she made ■me no reply ; nor did she ever after open her lips to urge me on the subject of my marriage. The remark escaped me as the expression of an acute feeling will sometimes escape us, before we take time to reflect ; the effect it produced convinced me it was too true. ' A stranger might have perceived, at the first glance, that there was a great difference between my father and mother ; but even I had never fully calculated all she must have suffered. Accustom- ed to profound peace in the house, I could not judge the painful efforts it must sometimes have cost her to maintain it. My father loved his wife, and Vv^as tenderly fond of me. Not even a look of discontent ever broke in upon the good humor of 158 MADAME ROLAND. my mother. When she was not of her husband's opinion and could not prevail upon him to modify it, she always yielded her own without the least appearance of reluctance. It was only during the latter years of her life, that feeling myself hurt by my father's mode of reasoning, I sometimes took the liberty to interfere in the discussion. By de- grees, I gained a certain sort of ascendence, and availed myself of it with considerable freedom. Whether it were the novelty of my enterprise that confounded him, or whether it were weakness, I knew not ; but my father yielded to me more read- ily than to his wife. I always exerted my influence in her defence, and might not unaptly have been termed my mother's watch-dog. It was no longer safe to molest her in my presence ; either by bark- ing, or by pulling the skirt of the coat, or by show- ing my teeth in good earnest, I v/as sure to make the assailant let go his hold. But when we were alone, not a word was ever said, by either of us, in- consistent with the most perfect respect. For her sake, I could enter the lists even against her hus- band ; but when that husband was absent, he was no longer anything but my father, about whom we w^ere both silent, unless there was something to praise. I could perceive, however, that by de- grees he lost his industry. Ambition is generally fatal to all classes of men ; multitudes become its victims where one is crowned with success. My father was happy and prosperous, while he was sat- isfied with moderate sains : but the desire of mak- MADAME ROLAND. 159 ing a fortune engaged him in speculations quite foreign to his profession ; and that desire made him set everything at hazard. Parish business was the first thing that called him from home ; and saunter- ing abroad afterward became a passion. All public spectacles, and everything that was passing out of doors, attracted his attention ; connexions at the coffee-house led him elsewhere ; and the lottery held out temptations he could not resist. In pro- portion as his art was less exercised, his talents diminished ; his sight grew weak, and his hand lost its steadiness. These changes took place by de- grees. My mother grew very pensive, and could^ not always conceal her anxiety. I forbore speak- ing of what neither she nor I could prevent. I w^as careful to procure her every satisfaction that de- pended upon me. I sometimes consented to leave her, in order to persuade my father to walk with me. He no longer sou2:ht to have me wdth him : but he still took pleasure in attending me. I used to bring him back, in a sort of triumph, to that ex- cellent mother, whose tender emotions I could easily perceive, whenever she saw us both together. We W'Ore not always gainers by it ; for my father, that he might neither refuse his daughter, nor be dis- appointed of his pleasures, would first see me safe home, and then go out again, for an instant, as he said ; but he would forget the hour, and not return until midnight ; in the meantime we had been weeping in silence^' This was a sad prospect for a wife and mother MADAME ROLAND. sinking into the tomb faster than her anxious daugh- ter was aware of. Just before Whitsuntide, 1775, it was agreed that the family should take one of their customary excursions into the country. Ma- demoiselle Phlipon was troubled with a broken and uneasy sleep, during which she had an ill-omened dream, that seems to have made an impression on her mind quite inconsistent with the scepticism she professed. She thought she was returning to Paris in the midst of a storm ; and that, upon getting out of the boat, a corpse impeded her way. Terrified at the sight, she was endeavoring to ascertain whose body it could be ; when her mother laid her hand lightly upon her, and in her soft voice remind- ed her that it was time to rise for their excursion. The sleeper awoke much agitated ; and embraced her mother as fervently, as if she had rescued her from some real danger. The weather was fine, the little boat carried them safely to the place of des- tination, and the quiet of the rural scenery soon restored serenity to her mind. Her mother was better for the journey, and resumed something of her former activity. Mademoiselle Phlipon had promised her friend Agatha that she would visit the convent. Her mother intended to accompany her ; but being fatigued with previous exertion, she changed her mind at the moment of starting, and proposed to send the maid with her. Her daugh- ter then wished to stay at home ; but Madame Phlipon insisted that she should keep her promise to her friends at the convent ; and advised her to MADAME ROLAND. 161 take a turn in the Jardin du Roi, before she re- turned. The visit to Agatha was very brief. ' Why are you in such haste 1 ' asked th e nun. ' I am anx- ious to return to my mother.' ' But you told me she was well.' — ' She is better than usual ; but something torments me ; I shall not be easy till I see her ag;ain.' Her manner of taking; leave was so singular, that Sister Agatha begged to hear from her immediately. She hurried home, notwithstand-^ ing the observation of the maid that a walk in the Jardin du Roi would be extremely pleasant. A little girl at the door informed her that her mother was very ill. She flew into the room, and found her almost lifeless. She tried to embrace her child ; but one arm only obeyed the impulse of her will ; and with that she Vv'iped av/ay the tears, and gently patted her cheek in a vain effort to comfort her. She tried to tell how impatiently she had expected her ; but palsy tied her tongue and she could only utter uncouth sounds. As long as there was any demand for her activity. Mademoiselle Phlipon never lost her energy, or her presence of mind ; but when the priest came to administer the sacrament to the dying, and she attempted to hold the light, with her eyes riveted on her beloved parent, anguish proved too strong for nature, and she fell senseless on the floor. From this state she awoke to find that her mother was dead. Sorrow for a time made her perfectly delirious. During one of her fainting fits, they 11 162 MADAME ROLAND. conveyed her to the house of one of her relatives. For eight days she was unable to shed a tear ; she was often seized with strong convulsions, and the physicians thought her life was in great d. nger. At last, a letter from her friend Sophia made her weep ; and the alarming symptoms abated ; a re- newal of the fits was, however, for several weeks produced by any circumstanc that served to re- mind her of her loss. Her father tried to comfort her by telling her what a blessing it was that her mother had lived to educate her ; and that if she must lose one of her parents, it was better the one should remain, who could most benefit her fortune. This consolatory argument, so little suited to her character and condition, only served to aggravate her grief. She felt that her father never could understand her, and thaf she was entirely an orphan. Speaking of her mother, she says, ' The world never contained a better, or more amiable woman. Nothing brilliant rendered her remarkable, but everything tended to endear her, as soon as she was known. Naturally wise and good, virtue never seemed to cost her any effort. Her pure and tr n- quil spirit pursued its even course like the docile stream that bathes with equal gentleness the foot of the rock, which holds it captive, and the valley which it at once enriches and adorns. With her death concluded the tranquillity of my youthful existence, passed in the enjoyment of blissful af- fections and beloved occupations.' The relatives of Mademoiselle Phlipon tried to MADAME ROLAND. 163 cheer her spirits by inviting everybody with whom she was acquainted ; but she had so little power of attending to others that she sometimes appeared insane. If anything happened, however remotely, to remind her of her mother's image, she shrieked and fainted away. ' It is a good thing to possess sensibility, it is unfortunate to have so much of it/ said her friend, the Abbe Legrand. He had sa- gacity enough to perceive that it was wise to talk to her a good deal about her mother, in order that her mind might freely unburthen itself of a sub- ject alike interesting and oppressive. As soon as he thought she could fix her attention on a book, he brought her Rousseau's Heloise. It is not a volume I should have thought of selecting to afford consolation to a mourner ; but she says the inter- est with which she read it was the first alleviation of her sorrow. When she returned home, she found that her mother's portrait had been removed ; from the mis- taken idea that the vacant space it once occupied would be less painful to her than the image of her deceased parent. Her first care was to have it restored. Her excessive grief excited a good deal of at- tention. It was thought a very remarkable thing that filial regret should endanger the life of a young woman. Amoncf the marks of reo-ard she received at this time, the most flattering was from M. de Boismorel, son of the lady to whom she took such a dislike in her childhood. Her father, flattered 164 MADAME ROLAND. by M. de Boismorel's good opinion of his daugh- ter, could not refrain from showing him some of her writings, one day when she was absent. She was a good deal offended at this attack upon her private property; but was soothed by a very flattering letter from M. de Boismorel, offering the use of his library at all times. She says this was the first time her self-love was gratified by finding herself appreciated by one on whose judgment she placed a high value. A friendly correspondence continued between them during his life ; by means of which she was constantly acquainted with the novelties of the literary and scientific world. He advised her to commence author in good earnest, after hav- ing deliberately chosen the line of literature best suited to her taste. In answer to this proposition she r-epresented to him her disinterested love of study, and her aversion to appearing before the public. In this reply she wrote the following verses V Aux hommes ouvrant la carriere Des grands et des nobles talents, lis n'ont mis aucune barriere A leur plus sublimes elans. De mon sexe foible et sensible, lis ne veulent que des vertus ; Nous pouvons imiter Titus, Mais dans un sentier moins penible. Jouissez du bien d' etre admis A toutes ces sortes de gloire ; Pour nous le temple de m6moire Est dans les coeurs de nos amis. MADAME ROLAND. 165 These lines have been translated with something more of vigorous thought, though with less smooth- ness in the versification : To man's aspiring sex 'tis given To climb the highest hill of fame, To tread the shortest road to heaven, And gain by death a deathless name. Of well-fought fields, and trophies won, The memory lives while ages pass, Graven on everlasting stone, Or written on retentive brass. But to poor feeble woman-kind The meed of glory is denied ; ■ Within a narrow sphere confined, . The lowly virtues are their pride. ' Yet not deciduous is their fame, Ending where frail existence ends ; A sacred temple holds their name — The hearts of their surviving friends. M. de Boismorel had so high an opinion of his young friend, that notwithstanding the difference of rank, he cherished the wish of uniting her to his son, who was younger than she was, and being indolent and inconsiderate, seemed to need a de- cided and judicious wife. Mademoiselle Phlipon, however, did not take a fancy to this young sprig of aristocracy ; and her discreet friend had too much delicacy to make regular proposals to her father, which he knew she would be painfully urged to accept. Tha young lady, finding her parental home a 166 MADAME ROLAND. desolate place, did sometimes feel a sensation of melancholy, when she cast her eyes around upon her acquaintance without finding one at all suited to her taste. A young lawyer, who had once been rejected, renewed his visits ; and her romantic sensibility gradually invested him with powerful attractions. Her father, at first, made it a rule to stay in the room when any gentleman came ; but finding it very dull business to act the duenna, he shut his door against everybody, except those whose age and gravity rendered his presence unnecessary. Mademoiselle Phlipon wrote to her lover that it was her father's wish that he should discontinue his visits, but left him reason to conclude that they were by no means unpleasant to her. This ro- mance lasted but a short time. Her friend, Sophia Cannet, came to visit her ; and having met the young lawyer in the gardens of the Luxembourg, she pointed him out as a notorious fortune-hunter, who had proposed himself to so many only daugh- ters, that the heiresses had agreed to bestow upon him the title of lover, of the eleven thousand virgins ; this name had reference to a legend told in the convents, of the miraculous martyrdom of eleven thousand virgins. This account dispelled the illu- sions of sentiment. The young man, having form- ed an acquaintance with a girl reputed to have more fortune, troubled her no further for several months ; at the end of which time, he had the audacity to call and request her assistance in a literary project he had undertaken ; he was received MADAME ROLAND. 167 with a stinging contempt, which soon terminated his visit. This man was La Blancherie, afterward Agent of the Correspondence for forwarding the Arts and Sciences. After the death of her mother, Mademoiselle Phlipon was most affectionately attended by a be- loved cousin, named Madame Trude. This lady had a vulgar and brutal husband, entirely unworthy of her ; her unhappiness was considerably increased by his daring to entertain a violent passion for her cousin. As Trude had no children, and had some fortune, M. Phlipon was anxious to be particularly polite to him ; and this circumstance increased the embarrassment of his daucrhter's situation. She tried to bear with him for the sake of his worthy wife ; but his attentions at last became insupporta- ble. In plain terms she asked him to confine his visits to her father ; but she says if she had thrown him out of the window, he would have come back by the chimney. Sometimes, on Sundays, she sent away the maid, and fastened every door and win- dow, to be free from his interruptions ; and after walking round the house two or three hours, he would reluctantly retire. She used to manage vis- its to his wife, at the house of one of their aged relations. Although the dignity of her deportment prevented this man from ever saying anything offensive to modesty, yet his manners and conver- sation were so much at variance with propriety and good-breeding, that he was a perpetual torment to her. From these connexions her pride met with 168 MADAME fiOLAND. a severe trial; and the manner in which she con- ducted herself does credit to the strength of her chasacter. Madame Trude was compelled to leave home for a few weeks ; but her surly husband would not consent that she should leave his counter, unless Mademoiselle Phlipon would agree to take her place, in the middle of the day, when customers would be most likely to come in. Madame Trude begged her to accede to this proposition ; and she felt that the obligations she owed to her cousin's friendship rendered it a duty. Trude, highly de- lighted, and not a little proud, conducted with great propriety, and his wife was deeply grateful for the kindness. Thus Madame Roland says, 'In spite of my aversion to trade, it was decreed that, at one time in my life, I should sell watch-glasses and spectacles. The situation was not agreeable. I can conceive nothing more dreadful, to a person standing in an open shop, than the noise of car- riages eternally rolling along. I should soon have been deaf, as my poor cousin Trude now is.' At this period of her life, she had occasional glimpses of the great world, through the friendship of M. de Boismorel. His proud mother began to think her of more consequence than she had for- merly done ; and gave her occasional invitations to visit at her house. She sometimes complains that the company invited to meet them was better suited to her father than herself; but when she did meet with any of the nobility, she seems to have regarded them with all her early dislike. She says, MADAME ROLAND. 169 * The old marquises and antiquated dowagers cer- tainly talked with more importance than church- wardens and sober cits, but to me they appeared quite as insipid. — Madame de Boismorel, eulogiz- ed my taste in dress. " You don't love feathers, do you Mademoiselle ? Ah, how different you are from giddy-headed girls V " I never wear feathers, madam, because I think they would announce a condition in life, that does not belong to an artist's daughter, going about on foot." " But would you wear them if you were in a different situation ?" " I do not know whether I should or not. I attach very little importance to such trifles. I merely consider what is suitable to myself; and should be very sorry to judge of others by the superficial in- formation afforded by their dress." The answer was severe ; but its point was blunted by the soft tone of voice in which it was pronounced. I was like the good man, of whom Madame de Sevigne said that the love of his neighbor cut off half his words. A fondness for satire indicates a mind pleased with irritating others ; for myself, I never could find amusement in killing flies. I deserved the character given me by one of my friends, that though possessed of wit to point an epigram, I never suffered one to escape my lips.' Madame Roland gives an account of a visit to a wealthy family, which is interesting as it serves to show the state of things in France at that period. One of her connexions had married M. Besnard, who had been a steward in the family of M. HaU"» 170 MADAME ROLAND. dry, a rich financier. Old Madame Phlipon was highly offended at this marriagB ; but Madame Roland says, ' I esteem it an honor to be related to.M. Besnard ; and I should do so, if, with the same character and conduct, he had been a foot- man. In his attachment to his wife he showed the greatest delicacy of sentiment ; it is impossible to carry veneration and tenderness to a greater length. Enjoying the sweets of a perfect union, they live in their old age like Baucis and Philemon, attracting the respect of all who witness the sim- plicity and excellence of their lives.' As Mademoiselle Phlipon' s health was consider- ed precarious, the physicians advised change of air ; and it was agreed that she and her Aunt Angelica should visit M. Besnard, at Fontenay, near the Chateau of Souci. The family at the Chateau, hearing of their arrival called to see them. Madame Penault, — whose daughter had married Haudry's son, — allowed something of condescen- sion to mix with her politeness; while the con- sciousness of worth, and the doubt of its being perceived by others, gave unusual dignity to the artist's daughter. The strangers were invited to dine. Madame Roland says, ' Never was astonish- ment equal to mine, when I learned that we were not to dine at her table, but with the upper ser- vants in the hall. I was sensible, however, that as M. Besnard had formerly played a part there, I ought not to appear dissatisfied, out of respect to him. I thought Madame Penault might have MADAME ROLAND. . 171 spared us the contemptuous civility ; my great- aunt had the same opinion ; but to avoid giving offence, we accepted the invitation. It was some- thing entirely new to me to mix with those deities of the second order; I had no idea what chamber- maids were, when they undertook to give them- selves airs of consequence. They acted their su- periors well. Dress, gesture, affectation — nothing was forgotten. The caricature of fashionable man- ners superadded a sort of elegance, not less foreign to mercantile simplicity, than to the taste of an artist. It was still worse with the men. The sword of the steward, the attentions of the cook, and the gaudy clothes of the valet-de-chambre, could not atone for the vulgarity of their expres- sions, when they forgot their parts, or for the blun- ders they made when they wished their language to be elegant. The conversation \y3ls full of mar- quises and counts, whose titles seemed to confer grandeur on those who talked of them. Play fol- lowed the repast ; the stake was high ; it was what the ladies were accustomed to play for, and they played every day. I was introduced to a new world, in which were exhibited the vices, prejudices and follies of the fashionable world, — very little better in reality, notwithstanding its greater show. Young Haudry was a spoiled child of fortune, with an erect carriage, and the airs of a great man ; perhaps he was amiable among those he es- teemed his equals ; but I hated to come in his way, and always assumed an air of dignified re- /• 172 MADAME ROLAND. serve when he approached. I had heard of the origin of old Haudry a hundred times : He came from his village to Paris, and by raking together thousands at the expense of the public, found means to marry his grand-daughters to Counts and Marquises. I recollected Montesquieu's ex- pression, that ' financiers support the state, as the cord supports the criminal.' I could not help thinking that the government must be detestable, and the nation very corrupt, where tax-gatherers make their opulence a means of alliance with fami- lies, which court-policy affects to consider as ne- cessary to the defence and splendor of the kingdom. I little thought then, that there could be a govern- ment more horrible — a degree of corruption still more to be deplored. Who indeed could have im- agined it, before the days of Danton and Robes- pierre ? ' The dissipated habits of M. Phl-ipon were some- what checked by the death of his excellent wife ; but after a while they regained their ' power over him. In vain his daughter tried to render his home agreeable. Having few ideas in common with him, she proposed cards evening after evening, notwithstanding her aversion to the game ; but this, and all her other efforts, were of no avail. He had become attached to society as unsuited to the intelligence of his daughter as it had been to the refinement of his wife. In an ill-assorted marriage the virtue of one party may keep up an appearance of happiness, but inconveniences will, sooner or MADAME ROLAND. 173 later, result from a union defective in its very foun- dation. In France, the wife's fortune and her per- sonal effects are generally secured by the marriage- contract to her children, or restored to her re- lations, in case she dies childless. The relations of Mademoiselle Phlipon, being honest, confiding people, neglected to demand an inventory at the time of her mother's decease; and she felt a sense of impropriety in doing it herself At last his in- creasing profligacy made the step absolutely ne- cessary. At the risk of incurring his displeasure, she took the requisite means, and was enabled to se- cure to herself five hundred livres (about one hun- dred dollars,) a year ; this with a few articles of furniture, was all that remained of the apparent opulence in which she had been educated. It was the more necessary to reserve this pittance for her- self, as her father's unkindness increased in pro- portion to his irregularity of life ; he was even un- willing to pay the postage of her letters. In the midst of these trials, literature was a never failing resource and consolation. She saw scarcely any company except her aged relatives, and divided her time between her domestic duties and her books. She read the most celebrated of the French preachers, wrote criticisms on Bourda- loue, and herself composed a moral sermon, on the subject of brotherly love. She likewise wrote a dissertation on a subject proposed by the Academy of Besancon, — Hoio can tJie Education of 'Women he made to conduce to the Improvement of 3Ien ? 174 MADAME ROLAND. In this dissertation, she attempted to prove that a new order of things was necessary ; that it was useless to attempt the reformation of one sex by means of the other, until the condition of the whole species was ameliorated by good laws. She still continued her correspondence with Sophia Cannet, for whom she cherished unabated friendship. This young lady often mentioned in her letters a gentleman, who visited her father; she represented him as universally esteemed for his good sense and integrity, though he sometimes gave offence by severity bordering on sarcasm. Sophia had shown, him the portrait of her friend Mary (or Molly) Jane Phlipon, and had talked much to him of her talents and her virtues. ' Shall I never have a letter to this charming friend ? ' he used to say : ' I go every year to Paris — why do you not make me acquainted with her 1 ' In December, 1775, he obtained the desired commission. The letter of in- troduction was thus worded : 'You will receive this from the hands of M. Roland de la Platiere, the philosopher I have mentioned to you. He is an en- lightened man, of spotless reputation, who can be reproached with nothing but his too great admira- tion for the ancients, at the expense of the moderns, whom he undervalues ; and with being too fond of speaking of himself.' Roland was born of an opulent family, which had for several centuries been ennobled by offices, that they had not power to transmit to their heirs. This lasted as long as wealth enabled them to sup- MADAME ROLAND. 175 port all the outward signs of rank, such as arms, liveries, &c. But the fortune was wasted by prod- igality and bad management; and Jean-Marie Ro- land de la Platiere found himself the youngest of five brothers, with nothino; but his own enerories to rely upon. At the age of nineteen, he left the pa- ternal roof, friendless and alone. Being averse to commerce, and unwilling to enter the church, he made preparations to go out to India ; this project was prevented by an illness which would have made it death to venture on the sea. Having a relation who was an inspector of manufactures, he was induced to enter into that department of busi- ness, in which he soon distinguished himself by his activity and skill. When he first became acquaint- ed with Mademoiselle Phlipon, he was in the lu- crative office of Inspector General of Manufactures at Amiens. He divided his time between travellinor o and study. Taking great interest in all subjects connected with political economy, he wrote several pamphlets on commerce, the mechanical arts, the management of sheep, 6lc ; in consequence of which he belonged to several scientific societies. During his visits to Paris he had frequent opportu- nities of seeing Mademoiselle Phlipon, then in her twentysecond year, with a mind fully matured, and a person uninjured by time. His frank and in- structive conversation pleased her ; and he was de- lighted with her, because she was a good listener ; a faculty by which she says she gained more friends than by her facility in speaking. He had made a 176 MADAME ROLAND. ' tour in Germany, of which he kept a journal ; and this, with other manuscripts, he confided to the care of Mademoiselle Phlipon, when he departed for Italy in the autumn of 1776. She says, .. * These manuscripts made me better acquaint- ed with him, during the eighteen months he passed in Italy, than frequent visits could have done. They consisted of travels, reflections, plans of literary works, and personal anecdotes ; a strong mind, strict principles, learning, and taste, were evident in every page. Before his departure for Italy, he introduced me to his best-beloved brother, a Benedictine monk, who sometimes came to see me, and communicated the notes his brother trans- mitted to him. These notes were afterward pub- lished in the form of letters on Italy, Switzerland, Sicily and Malta. A friend, who had the care of printing them, injudiciously loaded them with Ital- ian quotations. This work, abounding m matter, wants only to be better digested to hold the highest rank among books of the kind. On M. Roland's ' return, I found myself possessed of a friend. The gravity of his manners and his studious habits in- spired the utmost confidence. It was several years - after our acquaintance began, before he declared himself a lover. I did not hear it with indifference, because I esteemed him more than any man I had yet seen ; but I had remarked that neither he nor his family were indifferent to worldly considera- tions. I frankly told him that I felt honored by his addresses, and that I should be happy to make MADAME ROLAND. 177 him a return for his affection ; but that my father was a ruined man, and his errors and debts might bring further disgrace upon those connected M^ith him. I was too proud to enter a family that might feel degraded by my alliance, or to make the gen- erosity of my husband a source of mortification to him. M. Roland persisted ; I was moved by his entreaties, and consented that he should make his proposals in form. As soon as he returned to Amiens, he wrote to my father, making known his wishes. My father thought the letter dry ; he did not like a son-in-law of such rigid principles He answered the letter in rude, impertinent terms. I wrote to M. Roland, telling him the event had jus- tified my fears respecting my parent, and that I begged him to abandon his design, because I did not wish to be the occasion of his receiving further affronts. I informed my father of this proceeding, and told him that he could not be surprised at my wish to retire to a convent. In order to satisfy his creditors, I left him my share of the plate. I hired a little apartment in the convent of the Congregation, and there took up my abode, with a firm resolution to regulate my expenses according to my little income. Potatoes, rice, and beans, with a sprinkling of salt and a little butter, varied my food, and were cooked with small loss of time. I went out but twice a week ; once to visit my aged relations ; and once to my father's, to look over the linen, and take away what needed mending. It was winter, and I was 12 178 MADAME ROLAND. lodged near the sky, under a roof of snow. 1 re- fused to mix habitually with the boarders ; devot- ing all my leisure time to my studies, I steeled my heart against adversity, and avenged myself on fate by deserving the happiness it did not bestow. My kind Agatha passed an hour with me every even- ing. A few turns in the garden, when everybody was out of the way, constituted my solitary walks. The resignation of a patient temper, the quiet of a good conscience, the elevation of spirit, which sets misfortune at defiance, the laborious habits that make time pass so rapidly, the delicate taste of a sound mind finding pleasures in the consciousness of existence and of its own value, which the vulgar never know,^ — these were my riches. I was not always free from melancholy ; but even melancholy had its charms. Though T was not happy, I had within me all the means of being so ; and I had reason to be proud that I knew how to do without the external things I wanted. M. Roland, sur- prised and afflicted, continued to write to me with constant affection, but expressing himself highly offended at my father's conduct. At the expiration of five or six months, he came to visit me and felt the flame of love revive on seeing me at the grate, where I still retained some appearance of prosperity. J He again offered me his hand, and urged me to re- ceive the nuptial benediction from his brother the prior. I entered into deep deliberation concerning what I ought to do. I could not help being sensi- ^/ ble that a younger man would not have waited so MADAME ROLAND. 179 long without endeavoring to make me change my resolution. I readily confess that this considera- tion dispelled all illusion from my sentiments. On the other hand, I considered that his perseverance was the fruit of mature deliberation, and proved his sense of my merit. Since he had overcome his repugnance to the disagreeable circumstances, that might attend the match, I was the more secure of his esteem, which I should not find it dijSicult to justify. Besides, if matrimony were a partnership, in which the woman generally undertakes to pro- vide for the happiness of both parties, was it not better to exert my faculties in that honorable con- dition, than in the forlorn and ascetic life I was leading in the convent ? ' They were married in the winter of 1779 - 80. She was twentyfive years of age, and he was nearly fortyseven. The following is M. Roland's portrait, by his wife. ' He was tall and negligent in his carriage, w4th that stiffness, which is often contracted by study. His manners were easy and simple, without possessing the fashionable graces ; he combined the politeness of a well-bred man with the gravity of a philosopher. Want of flesh, a complexion accidentally yellow, a forehead very high and thinly covered with hair, did not destroy the effect of a regular set of features, though it rendered them rather respectable than engaging. His smile was very expressive ; and when he grew animated in conversation, or an agreeable idea crossed his mind, his whole face was lighted up. 180 MADAME ROLAND. His conversation was full of interesting matter be- cause his head was full of ideas ; but it occupied the mind more than it pleased the ear, because his language though sometimes impressive, was always monotonous and harsh. In marrying him I be- came the wife of a truly worthy man, who con- tinued to love me more the better he knew me. Although married at a mature age, I fulfilled my duties with an ardor that was rather the effect of enthusiasm than of calculation. By studying my partner's happiness, I discovered that something was wanting to my own. I have never for a mo- ment ceased to consider my husband the most es- timable of human beings, as a man to whom I might be proud of belonging ; but T have often felt the disparity between us. He was more than twenty years older than myself; and this, combined with the ascendency of an imperious temper, constituted too great superiority. If we lived in solitude, I sometimes had disagreeable hours to pass ; if we mixed with the world, I was beloved by persons, some of whom appeared likely to take too strong hold of my affections. I immersed myself in study with my husband, to such a degree that my health suffered. Accustomed to have me share with him all his pursuits, he learned to think he could not do without me at any time, or on any occasion, ' We passed the first year of our marriage entirely at Paris, whither Roland had been sent for by the board of trade, who were desirous of making some new regulations concerning manufactures ; regula- MADAME ROLAND. 181 tions which Roland's principles of liberty made him oppose with all his might. He was printing an account of some of the arts, which he had written for the academy, and taking a fair copy of hia Italian notes. He made me his copyist and the corrector of the press. I executed the task with a degree of humility, at which I cannot help laughing when I recollect it; it seems almost irreconcilable with a mind so active as mine ; but it flowed direct- ly from my hearl. I so sincerely respected my husband, that I easily believed him to know every- i^' thing better than I could. At the same time, he was so tenacious of his opinions, and I was so afraid of a cloud upon his brow, that it was long before I had confidence enough to contradict him. '^ I was then attending a course of lectures on natu- ral history and botany. These were the only re- creations I enjoyed after the employments of secre- tary and house-keeper. We lived at ready-furnish- ed lodgings during our stay in Paris; and perceiv- ing that all kinds of cooking did not agree with my husband's delicate constitution, I took care to prepare the food that best suited him. We passed four years at Amiens, where I became a mother and a nurse, without ceasing to partake of my husband's labors. He had engaged to write a con- siderable part of the new Encyclopedia ; we never stirred from the desk except to take a walk out of the gates of the town, for the purpose of studying botany. Frequent sickness alarmed me for Ro- land's life. My cares were not ineffectual, and 182 MADAME ROLAND. they served to strengthen the tie that united us. He loved me for my boundless attention, and I was attached to him by the good I did him.' A letter from Madame Roland to one of her friends shows that she lost nothing of her republi- can zeal by associating with a husband, whose en- thusiasm for liberty was quite equal to her own. 'Dear Friend, — I inclose a letter from M. Gosse, from which you will learn how the combin-, ed forces of France, Savoy and Berne behaved when they took possession of Geneva. I was out of all patience in reading it. The very idea still makes the blood boil in my veins. It is clear Ge- neva was no longer worthy of liberty — we see nothing like the energy it required to defend so dear a property, or die beneath its ruins. I have only the greater hatred for its oppressors, whose in- fectious neighborhood had corrupted the republic before they came to put an end to its existence. Gosse tells me that the friend who was with him at Paris is of the aristocratic party. They hold no intercourse since the overthrow of liberty, lest their opposite tempers of mind should produce a disa- greeable altercation. I would have laid a wager it would have taken place. His friend is that M. Coladon, whom I used to call Celadon, whose only merit is that of being a pretty fellow. His servile air and supple demeanor bespoke him a slave at first sight. I would not give a cripple, of the same cast as Gosse, for a hundred of him. Virtue and MADAME ROLAND 183 liberty have no longer an asylum, unless in the hearts of a small number of honest men. A fig for the rest — and for all the thrones in the world ! I would tell a king so to his face. From a woman, it would only be laughed at ; but, by my soul, if I had been at Geneva, I would have died before they should have laughed at me.' In the early part of her union, M. Roland had required her to withdraw considerably from her in- timate friends ; but time gave him confidence in her auctions, and removed his fear of being rival- led. By his advice, she made a visit to her friend Sophia, early in the summer of 1783. A letter from this place breathes a more feminine strain than the preceding. The acknowledgment that ^ society was dangerous to her, because she met ob- jects likely to engross her affections, contrasts oddly enough with the sincere attachment to M. Roland expressed in the following epistle : an American , wife cannot understand such things. ' Sailly, near Corbie. * I do not know the day of the month. All I can tell you is, that we are in the month of June ; that yesterday was a holiday ; and that according to our reckoning here it is three o'clock in the after- noon. On Sunday I had a visit from my good man, who left me again yesterday evening. I have noth- ing to send in return for your news. I do not trou- ble my head about politics ; and I am no longer 184 MADAME ROLAND. in the way of picking up any of another kind. I can only entertain you with an account of the dogs that wake me, of the birds that console me for not being able to sleep again, of the cherry- trees that are opposite my windows, and of the heifers that graze before the door. I am under the roof of a friend, on whom I fixed my affections when in a convent at eleven years of age, with for- ty other girls, who thought of nothing but romping to dispel the gloom of the cloister. In days of yore, I was devout like Madame Guyon ; my companion was a little mystical also ; and our friendship was fed by the same sensibility that made us religious to distraction. After her return to her own part of the country, she made me acquainted with M. Ro- land,- by entrusting him with the delivery of her letters. Judge whether I ought not to love and cherish her for this ! This friend is lately married ; and I had some share in inducing her to do so. I am now visiting her in the country, which I have often represented to her as the abode best suited to a virtuous mind. I walk over her estate ; I count her poultry ; we gather fruit in the garden; — and we are of opinion that all this is well worth the gravity with which fashionables sit round the card- table — the necessity of passing half the day in the important business of dressing, — the prittle-prattle of fops, — &c, — &c. Notv/ithstanding all this, I feel a longing desire to return to Amiens, because only one half of me is here. My friend forgives me ; for her husband being absent, she is better MADAME ROLAND. 185 able to judge of my privations. We find it very comfortable to condole with each other ; but we perfectly agree in the opinion, that to be at a dis- tance from the dovecot, or to be there alone, is a very miserable thing. I am, however, to pass the whole week here. I do not know whether my health will be as much benefited as my good man hoped. I have laid aside all study for three days, without feeling any wonderful advantage. I was pretty well satisfied with the looks of our friend, when he was here ; but I dread his study as I dread fire. The week I have to pass here seems an eternity to me, on account of the mischief he may do himself while I am gone. Your description of your laborious life answers very little purpose. I do not pity you at all. In my opinion, to be busy is to be half-way toward happiness.' Having become engaged in a playful warfare with the same friend concerning the equality of the sexes, she thus writes : ' What is the deference paid by your sex to mine, but the indulgence shown by powerful magnanimity to the weak whom it pro- tects and honors ? When you assume the tone of masters, you make us recollect that we are able to resist you, and perhaps to do more, notwithstand- ing all your strength. Do you pay us homage 1 It is Alexander treating his prisoners (who are not ignorant of their dependance) with the respect due to queens. In this single particular, civilization goes hand in hand with nature. The laws place 186 MADAME ROLAND US in a state of almost constant subjection ; while custom grants us all the honors of society. We are nothing in reality ; in appearance we are every- thing. Do not then any longer imagine that I form a false estimate of what ive have a right to re- quire, or of what it becomes you to claim, I be- lieve that I will not say more than any woman, but as much as any man, with regard to the superiority of your sex. In the first place, you have strength, with all the advantage that it confers ; courage, perseverance, extensive views, and great talents. It belongs to you to make political laws, as well as scientific discoveries ; to govern the world, change the surface of the globe, be magnanimous, terrible, skilful and learned. You are all this without our assistance ; and this no doubt makes you our mas- ters. But without us, you would be neither virtu- ous, nor kind, nor amiable, nor happy. Keep then to yourselves glory and authority of all kinds. We desire no empire but over manners — no throne but in your hearts. I am sorry to see women some- times contend for privileges that become them so ill. There is not one of those privileges, even to the title of author, that does not seem to me ridic- ulous in female hands. To make one person hap- py, and to bind a number together by the charms of friendship, and by winning ways, is the most enviable destiny that can be conceived. Let us live in peace ; only recollect that to keep the high ground you stand upon in relation to woman-kind, I be cautious of making them feel your superiority. MADAME ROLAND. 187 The war in which I have engaged you for amuse- ment, and with all the fieedom of an old friend, would be carried on in a more serious manner by an artful coquette ; nor Vv'ould you leave the field without a Avound. Protect always, that you may submit when you please ; that is the secret of your sex. But what a pretty simpleton I am to be tell- ing you all this !' She thus describes her visit to the tomb of Rous- seau : ' The valley in which Ermenonville is situa- ted is the most miserable thing in the world. Black and muddy water ; no prospect ; not a single view of rich and cultivated fields ; low, marshy meadows, and woods in which you seem buried. The Isle of Poplars, in the midst of a noble piece of water, surrounded with trees, is the most agreeable and interesting spot in all Ermenonville, independently of the object that has so much attraction for thought- ful minds and feeling hearts. If Rousseau, how- eTer, had not given it celebrity, I doubt whether any one would have gone out of his way to visit it. We went into the master's room, which is no lon- ger inhabited, and in which Rousseau must have been buried alive without air or prospect. He is now more handsomely accommodated than he ever was while living. ' Our excursions have been delightful. But when I returned, poor Eudora did not remember her afflicted mother. I expected to be forgotten : but nevertheless I wept like a child. Alas ! said I to myself, I fare no better than mothers who do not 188 MADAME ROLAND. nurse their children though I deserve something better.* The little creature's affection for me was interrupted by the suspension of the habit of see- ing me. When I think of it, my heart is ready to break. My child has resumed her customary ca- resses ; but I no longer dare to believe in the senti- ment, from which they derived their value. I wish she were still an infant, and still depended upon me for her nourishment.' In 1784, Madame Holand accompanied her husband in a journey to England. Of this excur- sion, she says, 'Our journey gave us great satisfac- tion. I shall ever remember with pleasure a coun- try of which Delolme taught me to love the consti- tution, and where I have witnessed the good effects produced by that constitution. Fools may chatter, and slaves may sing ; but take my word for it, Eng- land contains men who have a right to laugh at us. I have to inform you for your satisfaction that Eudora knew us on our return, though we appeared to her as if in a dream. She kissed me with a kind of gravity mixed with affection, and then uttered a faint cry of surprise and joy at the sight of her father. She had been in great health during our absence ; but next morning, while run- ning about, she rolled down stairs in such a way that I thought her dead, and was little better than dead myself.' * In France it is very unusual for mothers to nurse their own children, except among the poorest classes — One very good reason why there is no such word as hom^ in the French language ! MADAME ROLAND. 1S9 After their return from England, Madame Ro- land went to Paris, to solicit letters patent of no- bility for her husband, who could not spare time from his accumulated literary labors to perform the journey himself It has been already said that Roland belonged to a family, whose nobility disappeared with their opulence. Having obtained an easy fortune, he was desirous of being reinstated in the rank of his ancestors. This application was afterward violent- ly blamed and ridiculed by his Jacobin enemies. Madame Roland requested certificates from the superintendents of trade in Paris ; but they, being jealous of Roland's long experience in a branch of administration which he understood much better than themselves, and differing from him in some of his opinions, — did not comply with her wishes in a manner entirely satisfactory. On this account the subject was set aside for a time, and was not afterward renew^ed. Knowing her husband's wish to be near his family, she asked and obtained for him, during her stay in Paris, the office of Inspect- or General of Commerce and Manufactures at Lyons. This change of residence does not seem to have contributed to her happiness. They pass- ed the winters at Lyons, and spent the summers at Ville Tranche, M. Roland's paternal abode. His mother and elder brother resided on the same estate. Madame Roland says of the former, ' She is rendered respectable by her age, and terrMe by her bad temper. My husband is passionately fond 190 MADAME ROLAND. of independence, and his elder brother is accustom- ed and inclined to domineer ; he is more despotic, more fanatic, and more obstinate, than any priest you ever saw. The parish of Thezee, two leagues from Ville Franche, in which is situated the Clos^' de la Platiere is a country of an arid soil, but rich in vineyards and woods. It is the last region in which the vine is cultivated, as you advance toward the lofty mountains of Beaujolois. We used fre- quently to go to this place in the autumn ; and after my mother-in-law's death, we spent there the greater part of the year. Here my simple taste was exercised in all the details of rural economy. I became the village doctor ; and was the more revered, because I bestowed assistance instead of requiring a revi^ard, and because the pleasure of doing good gave grace to my attentions. Honest countrywomen have come several leagues to beg me to save a life given over by the physicians. In 1789, my soothing cares saved my husband from a dreadful disease, when all the prescriptions of the doctors failed. I passed twelve days and nights without sleep, and six months in the uneasiness of precarious convalescence ; and yet Iwas not ill : so much does our strength and activity depend upon the heart.' The following letter from Ville Franche shows the nature of Madame Roland's occupations at this period of her life : * A tract of vineyard inclosed. MADAME ROLAND. 191 ' You ask me how I pass my time 1 On rising, I busy myself with attending upon my child, and my husband. I get breakfast for both, hear the little one read, and then leave them together in the study, while I go and inquire into the household affairs from the cellar to the garret. The fruit, the wine, the linen, and other details contribute to my daily stock of cares. We are obliged to be in dress at noon, as there is a chance of company, which the old lady is very fond of inviting. If I have any time left, I pass it in the study with my husband, in the literary labors I have always been accustomed to share with him. After dinner, we stay a little while together, and I remain pretty constantly with my mother-in-law till company comes ; in such cases I am at liberty, and go to the study to write. In the evening, the newspaper, or something better, is read aloud. Gentlemen sometimes join us in the study. If I am not the reader, I sit modestly at my needlework, taking care to keep the child quiet. She neyer leaves us, except when we have a formal repast for visiters. As I do not v/ish her to be troublesome, or to take up the atten- tion of the company, on such occasions she remains in her own room, or takes a walk with her maid ; and does not make her appearance till the dessert is finished. Sometimes, but not often, I take a walk with my good man and Eudora. Bating these tri- fling differences, every day sees me turn in the same circle. English, Italian, and music, in which I so much delight, are talents hidden under the ashes ; 192 MADAME ROLAND. but I shall know where to find them in order to instil them into my daughter's mind, as she grows older. The interest of my child, order in the things entrusted to my care, and peace among those with whom I am connected, constitute my business and my pleasure. This kind of life would be very austere, were not my husband a man of great merit, whom I love with my whole heart ; but with this datum, it is most delightful. Tender friendship and unbounded confidence mark every moment of existence, and stamp a value upon all things which nothing without them would have. It is the life most favorable to virtue and to happiness. I ap- preciate its worth, I congratulate myself on enjoy- ing it, and I exert my best endeavors to make it last. * Eudora, our little delight, grows, and'entertains us with her prattle. At this moment, she is put- ting out her little mouth, and trying to kiss me, after having received from papa a tap upon her fingers, which were overturning everything on the table. Although brought up alone, she is a perfect romp. Her violent animal spirits will need a strong mind to govern them. She has all the intelligence that can be expected at her age and can put up with anything, even dry bread, when doing penance. She begins to read well, and to leave other play- things for her needle ; amuses herself with making geometrical figures ; is entirely unfettered by dress ; sets no value upon scraps of gauze and ends of riband ; thinks herself fine when she has a clean MADAME ROLAND'. 193 white frock, and is told she is good ; and looks upon a cake given with a kiss, as the greatest of all rewards. I was just now greatly scandalized by hearing her utter a big oath. She gives our servant Claude as authority. What admirable aptitude ! She does not pass an hour in a fortnight with the servants ; and I never stir a step without her. She has a strong inclination to say and do the very contrary of what she is desired, because she thinks it agreeable to act for herself; but as she is sure to be repaid with interest, she begins to suspect that she might do better ; she gives herself as much credit for an act of obedience, as we should do for a sublime effort of the mind. I am her confidant upon all occasions ; and she is very much at loss what to do when we quarrel.' Madame Roland's letters do not always breathe the same spirit of contentment. In a letter from Clos de la Platiere, she says, ' I detest this place. We have killed a viper near the house, and Eudora may meet with that terrible reptile in some unfre- quented walk. My heart fails me at the thought. More things than one put us out of humor with this country-house. We have laid aside the idea of re- building it. If you hear of a snug box to be sold on the road to Lyons, pray let us know.' A few months after, she again writes, from the same place : ' I am still here, and shall probably remain some time. Economy guided us in our first resolution to live at Ville Franche ; but regard 13 194 MADAME ROLAND. for our moral and physical welfare made us change our minds. True my mother-in-law lives at as great an expense during our absence ; and stran- gers occupy our places at her table. What then ? Here we have liberty and peace. We no longer hear a scolding tongue from morning till night, or behold a forbidding countenance, in which jeal- ousy and anger are manifest through the disguise of irony, whenever we meet with any success, or receive any attention. With all my regard for you, I should not speak thus of my husband's mother, if he had not done so already. To confess the truth, these trials are more supportable than they were during the first two or three months. As long as I had hopes of finding a heart among the whim- sicalities of the most extraordinary disposition, I tormented myself in endeavoring to gain it, and was distressed because I could not. Now I see in a proper point of view a selfish, fantastical be^ ing, governed entirely by a spirit of contradiction, who never enjoyed anything but the power of tor- menting by her caprices, who triumphs in the death of two children, after she had steeped their souls in bitterness, who would smile at the death of .all of us, and who scarcely takes any pains to con- ceal her sentiments, I feel my distress converted into indifference, almost into pity ; and my fits of indignation and hatred become brief and unfre- quent. Here we can breathe a pure air, and indulge in confidence and tenderness, without any fear that the manifestation of such sentiments will irritate a MADAME ROLAND. 195 hard heart utterly a stranger to them. We cannot possess great blessings, without purchasing them at the expense of a few troubles. With such a husband as mine, and one so dear to me, this world would be a perfect paradise, if I had nothing else but sources of satisfaction." At another time, she says, ' I verily believe I am imbibing some of the inclinations of the beast whose milk is restoring me to health. I am growing asinine^ by dint of attending to the little cares of a piggish country life. I am preserving pears, which , will be delicious ; we are drying raisins and prunes ; are in the midst of a great wash, and getting up the linen ; make our breakfast upon wine ; over- look the people busied in the vintage ; rest our- selves in the woods and meadows ; knock down walnuts ; and after gathering our stock of fruit for the winter, spread it in the garret; after breakfast we are all going in a body to gather almonds. Throw off your fetters for a little while, and join as in our retreat ; you will find there true friendship, and real simplicity of heart.' Some time after, she says, ' As long as I remain- ed nailed to my desk in the study, you heard from me often and could judge of my way of life, per- haps of ray heart, by my correspondence ; but the people of our town looked upon me as a hermit, who could only converse wnth the dead, and who disdained all commerce with her fellow-creatures. I laid down my pen ; suspended my literary labors ; walked forth from ray museum ; talked, ate, danced 196 MADAME ROLAND. and laughed with all that came in my way ; and then my neighbors perceived that I was not an owl — nor a constellation — nor a female pedant — but a being both tolerable and tolerant ; while you, on the other hand, thought me dead. I am now about to resume solitude and study, and expect to hear you alter your note once more.' Having made a sceptical remark in one of her letters, she returns to the subject in her next, and says, ' I must confess to you that when I am walk- ing in peaceful meditation, in the midst of some rural scene, of which I relish the beauties, it seems delightful to me to owe the blessings I enjoy to a Supreme Intelligence : at such times, I believe and adore. It is only in the dust of the closet, while poring over books, or in the bustle of the ^ world, while breathing the corruption of mankind, that these sentiments die away, and a gloomy sort of reason rises enveloped with the clouds of doubt^ and the destructive vapors of incredulity.' The following letter is merely quoted as a sample of the sprightliness of her style ; I know not to whom it is addressed, nor to what it is a reply. ' Oh ! a great deal worse than giddy — why, you are inconsiderate, impertinent — I know not what. How can you expect me ever to pardon you for having made me lose my time in copying the most tiresome things in the world '? Copy ! / copy ! It is a degradation — a profanation — a sin against all the laws of taste. After this, it becomes you MADAME ROL'ANI). 197 well to go snuffing the wind, and strutting along — You, an interloper in the capital, whence I car- ried a great part of what was good for anything ! Do you not know that I have both pens and jour- nals upon my toilet, — moreover verses to Iris, — that I can talk of my country-house, of my domes- tics, and of the stupidity of the town at this season of the year 1 That I can pronounce sentence upon new books, fall in love with a work upon the re- port of the editor of the Parisian Journal, pay visits, talk nonsense, listen to the same, — and so on 1 Is not that the utmost effort of the wit and art of the elegant woman in the great world 1 Go your ways, young gentleman ! As yet, you are not clever enough for a persijlage, nor impudent enough for fashionable airs and graces. You have not even levity enough to encourage an experienced woman to undertake your education, without a risk of exposing herself Go your ways, young man — pick up insects, dispute with the learned about snails' horns, or the color of a beetle's wings ; but as for the ladies, you are good for nothing but to give them the vapors. Do you know that Massa- chusetts is a very barbarous name ? And that a man of fashion was never known to utter such a word when saying soft things to the fair sex? I heard of a lady who was so shocked at the sound of Transylvania, which was quite new to her, that she desired the impertinent speaker to leave the room.' From Lyons she writes, ^ My good man pro- 198 MADAME ROLAND. nounced a discourse before the Academy, that was much applauded. The subject was The Influence of the Cultivation of Letters in the Provinces, com- pared with their Influence in the Capital. There was a good deal in it concerning women, which several present had reason to apply to themselves ; they would tear my eyes out, perhaps, if they sus- pected I had any share in the composition. The secretary of the academy recited a poetic epistle, in which he congratulated our friend upon his re- turn to his country, accompanied by a help-mate^ of whom he spoke as — poets are apt to do. It is pretty certain this did not tend to recommend me to the favor of the women. They would fain have it in their power to criticise the discourse of an academician, whose wife was the subject of a pub- lic panegyric. When you know me to be in the country, you may show yourself as you are ; an original, or a censor ; if needs must be, you may be morose. In the country my stock of indulgence is inexhaustible ; my friendship forgives everything. But the company I see at Lyons puts me in good humor ; my imagination grows more lively ; and if you rouse it, you must take the consequences. I let no joke escape without sending it back with a sharpened point.' Of her father, she thus speaks : ' He neither married, nor made any very ruinous engagements. We paid a few debts he had contracted, and by granting him an annuity prevailed on him to leave business, in which it had become impossible for MADAME ROLAND. 199 him to succeed. Though suffering so much from his errors, and though he had reason to be highly satisfied with our behaviour, his spirit was too proud net to be hurt at the obligations he owed us. A state of irritated self-love often prevented him from doing justice, even to those who were most desirous of pleasing him. He died, aged upwards of sixty, in the hard winter of 1787.' In the course of the same year, Madame Roland accompanied her husband in a tour through Swit- zerland, where she became acquainted with several interesting persons 5 among them was the famous Lavater, with whom she afterward corresponded In passing through Geneva, she was filled with indignation at not finding a statue erected to the memory of Rousseau. After their return from Switzerland, they resided alternately at Lyons and at Clos de la Platiere. They were enjoying their accustomed mode of life in these places, when the flame of the Revolution first broke out. Roland and his wife at once kindled with popular enthusi- asm. Their imaginations had long been enamored of the ancient republics ; and they now fancied that the time had arrived for the political regene- ration of mankind. Extracts from her letters will best show her state of feeling at this time : ' Clos de la Platiere, 1790. ' In this place, I could easily forget public affairs ; contented with feeding my rabbits, and seeing my 200 MADAME ROLAND. hens hatch their young, I no longer think of revolu- tions. But as soon as I am in town, the insolence ^ of the rich, and the misery of the people, excite my hatred against injustice and oppression ; and I no longer ask for anything but the triumph of truth and the success of the Revolution. Our peasantry are very much discontented vi^ith the decree con- cerning feudal rights. We must have a reform, or we shall have more chateaux burnt. Prepara- tions are making at Lyons for a camp. Send us brave fellows to make aristocracy tremble in its den.' ^ ^ T? T? w TT W * Lyons is subjugated. The Germans and Swiss domineer by means of their bayonets, employed in the service of a treacherous municipality in league with bad ministers, and bad citizens. If we do not die for liberty, we shall soon have nothing left to do but weep for her. Do you say we ^dare no longer speak 1 Be it so. We must thunder then. Join yourself to such honest people as you can find, and wake the people from their lethargy !' * * ' Death and destruction ! What signifies your being Parisians ? You cannot see to the end of your own noses — or else you want vigor to make your assembly get on. It was not our representa- tives who brought about the revolution ; with the exception of a dozen or so, they are altogether beneath such a work: it was the ^eop/e, who are always in the right, when public opinion is proper- ly directed. Paris is the seat of that opinion. MADAME ROLAND. 201 Finish your work, then, or expect to see it watered with your blood. You are nothing but children. Your enthusiasm is a momentary blaze. If the national assembly do not bring two illustrious heads to a formal trial, or if some generous Decius do not strike them off, we shall all go to the — —together. The French are so easily seduced by fair appear- ances on the part of their masters ! No doubt one half of the assembly was moved at the sight of Antoinette recommending her son. A child is of great consequence, to be sure ! The salvation of twenty millions of men is at stake. If this letter do not reach you, let the base wretches, who open it, blush when they learn that it is from a woman; and let them tremble to reflect that she is able to make a hundred enthusiasts, who will make a mil- lion more.' ^ ^ 4^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 1791, ' I weep for the blood that has been spilt ; it is im- possible to be too sparing of the lives of our fellow creatures. Nevertheless, I am glad there is danger. I see nothing else capable of goading you on. It is impossible to rise to freedom, from the midst of cor- ruption, without strong convulsions. They are the salutary crisis of a serious disease. We are in want of a terrible political fever, to carry off our foul humors.' These and other letters, equally energetic, were rapidly circulated by her husband's political friends ; ■/^ 202 , MADAME ROLAND. and many of them found their way into the public journals, particularly the Patriote Frangois. Ro- land and his wife likewise wrote many articles, in favor of a new order of things, in the Courrier de Lyon. Madame Roland gave a description of the confederation at Lyons, May 30, 1790, in language so powerful and impressive, that more than sixty thousand copies of it were sold. In 1791, Roland was chosen, by the city of Lyons, deputy extraor- dinary to the Constituent Assembly ; the manufac- turers of that place were then in a wretched state, and twenty thousand workmen were starving. Madame Roland accompanied her husband to Paris, where they arrived on the 20th of February; they remained there seven months, in habits of close companionship with Brissot, Buzot, Robespierre, &c. Madame Roland says, ' I had been five years absent from the place of my nativity. I had watch- ed the progress of the revolution, and the labors of the assembly ; I had studied the characters and talents of its leading members, with an interest not to be easily conceived by those, who are unac- quainted with my ardent and active turn of mind. I hastened to attend their sittings. I was vexe to see that dignified habits, purity of language, and polished manners, gave the court-party a kind of su- periority in large assemblies ; but the strength of reason, the courage of integrity, the fruits of study, and the fluency of the bar could not fail to secure the triumph of the patriots, if they were all honest, and could but remain united.' At this period Mad- MADAME ROLAND . 203 ame Roland thought Robespierre an honest man, and a true friend of liberty ; though she says the kind of reserve, for which he was remarkable, even then gave her pain, — because it seemed like a fear of being seen through, or a distrust of the vir- tue of others. Of Danton, she says, ' No man could make a greater show of zeal in the cause of liberty ; but I contemplated his forbidding and atro- - cious features, and though I tried to overcome my prejudice, I could never associate anything good with such a countenance. Never did a face so strongly express brutal passions, and the most astonishing audacity, half-distinguished by a jovial air, and an affectation of simplicity.' As M. Roland's residence in Paris was a con- venient place of rendezvous, different members of the Assembly often met there. She says, ' This arrangement suited me perfectly. It made me ac- quainted with the progress of public affairs, in which I was deeply interested, and favored my taste for political speculation, and the study of mankind. However, I knew very well what part became a woman, and never stepped out of my proper sphere. I employed myself in working, or writing letters, without sharing in the debate. Yet if I despatched ten epistles in an evening, I did not lose a syllable of what they were saying ; and more than once I bit my lips, to restrain my impatience to speak. It distressed me that men of sense should pass three or four hours in light and frivolous chit-chat, with- out coming to any conclusion. Good ideas were ^ •■y 204 - MADAME ROLAND. started, and excellent principles maintained ; but on the whole, there was no path marked out, no fix- ed result, no determinate point, toward which each person should direct his views. Sometimes, for very vexation, I could have boxed the ears of these philosophers, whose honesty I daily learned to esteem more and more. Excellent reasoners, learn- ed theorists, were they all ; but being totally igno- rant of the art of managing mankind, their wit and learning were generally lavished to no end.' In September, 1791, Roland returned to Lyons, after having obtained all for that city that could be desired. The autumn was employed in the vintage ; and as one of the last acts of the Con- stituent Assembly had been the suppression of the office of Inspectors, it was determined that they should spend the winter in Paris ; where Roland intended to claim a pension for forty years' service, and where he could have greater facilities for con- tinuing his labors in the Encyclopedia. Before he left Lyons he established there a club similar to the Jacobin club at Paris. After the dissolution of the Constituent Assembly, a new body was im- mediately organized called the Legislative Assem- bly. * The party which obtained the ascendency in this Assembly was called the Gir-onde party, because some of its principal leaders came from the neighborhood of Bordeaux, which is watered by a river of that name.' Among the leaders were Roland and his wife, Condor cet, Brissot, ^c. The court, alarmed at the increasing strength of MADAME ROLAND. 205 the popular factions, thought to pacify the people by appointing Jacobin ministers. The aristocratic party would not have been sorry to have seen the dignity conferred upon men who were base enough to become their tools, or weak enough to be objects of derision. The patriots, anxious to avoid this snare, were very solicitous to choose persons of strong abilities and undoubted integrity. Under such circumstances their attention was fixed upon M. Roland. His own courage did not shrink from the arduous task, and his wife's ambition was grat- ified by a proposal that conferred so much distinc- tion. In March, 1792, he became Minister of the Interior. The Hotel formerly occupied by the Comptroller General of the Finance, was appro- priated to his use ; and Madame Roland presided over the establishment, that had been so splendidly fitted up for Madame Necker, in the days of her glory. When Roland first presented himself at Court, he dispensed with the usual costume, and appeared in the dress of the Jacobin club — a plain suit of clothes, round hat, and shoes fastened with ribbon instead of buckles. The king, and those courtiers who thought the salvation of the country depended upon etiquette, were greatly scandalized at this austere republicanism. The master of the ceremonies, stepping up to Dumouriez, and casting a look of alarm upon the new minister, exclaimed, * Oh, dear sir ! He has no buckles in his shoes !' Dumouriez, who enjoyed a joke, replied, with laughable gravity, ' Mercy upon us ! We shall all go to ruin !' 206 MADAME ROLAND. Louis XVI. was however very affable and con- ciliating in his manner toward the new members of the council. At first Roland was enchanted with his excellent disposition, and thought the monarch would grant everything that could be required for the good of the people. ' On my faith/ said he, ' if he be not an honest man, he is the greatest knave in the kingdom. Tt is impossible to be so hypo- critical.' To these expressions of confidence, Madame Roland replied, ' I cannot bring myself to believe in the constitutional vocation of a king, born and educated in despotism, and accustomed to arbitrary sway. If Louis is sincerely the friend of a constitution, which restrains his power, he must be virtuous beyond the common race of mor- tals ; and if he were such a man, the events that have led to the revolution could never have oc- curred.' The troubles on the score of religion in- creased daily ; and the preparations of the enemy, called for decisive measures. Roland urged upon the kiilg the necessity of a decree against the priest- hood, and the establishment of a camp in the sub- urbs of Paris. Louis did not positively refuse, but upon the plea of further consideration, he deferred them from day to day, until his sincerity was great- ly suspected. Roland remonstrated in the strong- est and most spirited manner. Thinking the pub- lic welfare was in danger, and that patriot ministers were bound to provide means for its salvation, he at last proposed to his colleagues that a letter should be written to the king, full of republican truths, ex- MADAME ROLAND. 207 pressed warmly and without disguise. The mem- bers of the council were afraid to hazard so bold a measure ; and Roland thought it incumbent upon his integrity and courage to step forward alone. This famous letter to Louis XVI. was written by v^ Madame Roland. It was placed in the king's hands on the 11th of June ; and the next day, the Min- ister of the Interior and his colleagues 'were dis- missed from office. Madame Roland, with her usual daring, advised that a copy of the offensive letter should be immediately sent to the National Assembly, that the cause of Roland's dismission might be known. This letter obtained prodigious popularity. The Assembly ordered it to be print- ed and sent to all the departments, accompanied with expressions of national regret at the discharge of the ministry. Roland became the idol of the patriotic party. After the dreadful catastrophe of the 10th of August, 1792, he was again called to the ministry by the triumphant faction. Of her way of life at this period, Madame Ro- land thus speaks : ' As soon as my husband was in the ministry, I came to a fixed determination neither to pay nor receive visits, nor invite any female to my table. I had no great sacrifice to make ; for, not residing at Paris, my acquaintance was not ex- tensive. Besides, I had never kept a great deal of company ; my love of study is as great as my detes- tation of cards, and the society of silly people affords me no amusement. Accustomed to domes- \ tic retirement, I shared the labors of Roland, and 208 MADAME ROLAND. pursued the studies most suited to my own partic- ular taste. The establishment of so severe a rule served to keep up my accustomed style of life, and to prevent the inconveniences, which an interested crowd is sure to throw in the way of people occupying im- portant posts. Twice a week I gave a dinner to some of the ministers, a few members of the Assem- bly, and other persons with whom my husband wished to converse. Business was talked of in my presence, because I had not the rage of interfering, and was never surrounded by new acquaintances, whose presence might excite distrust. From all the spacious apartments, I chose the smallest parlor for myself, and converted it into a study, by moving into it my library and desk. It frequently happen- ed, that Roland's friends, when they wanted to talk confidentially, instead of going to his apartment, where he was usually surrounded, would come to my room and ask me to send for him. By these means, I found myself drawn into the vortex of public affairs, without intrigue, or idle curiosity ; and as we had ever a perfect intercommunity of knowledge and opinions, Roland talked to me in private of political measures with entire confidence. During twelve years I shared in my husband's intel- ^'"^ jectual labors as I did in his repasts ; because one was as natural to me as the other. If any of his works met with aflattering reception, on account of any particular gracefulness of style, I shared his V satisfaction without remarking that it was my own MADAME ROLAND. 209 composition. Not unfrequently he brought himself to beUeve that he had been in a happier mood than usual when he had written a passage, which in reality proceeded from my pen. If an occasion occurred for the expression of great and striking truths, I poured my whole soul upon the paper. I loved my country. — I knew no interest, no passion, that came in competition with my enthusiasm for liberty. The language that comes directly from the heart is necessarily pure and pathetic ; and it was very natural that such effusions should be pre- ferable to the laborious teeming of a secretary's brain. Why should not a woman act as secretary to her husband, without depriving him of his merit ? It is well known that ministers cannot do every- thing themselves ; and surely it is better for the wives of statesmen to make draughts of letters, of official despatches, and of proclamations, than to employ their time in soliciting and intriguing first for oYiQ friend and then for another ; in the very nature of things one of these employments excludes the other. I make these remarks, because a great many people are willing to allow me a little merit, on purpose that they may deny it to my husband ; while many others suppose me to have had a kind of influence in public affairs entirely discordant with my turn of mind. Studious habits and a taste for literature led me to participate in Roland's la- bors vv'hile he remained a private individual ; my existence being devoted to his happiness, I applied myself to such things as best pleased him. If he 14 210 MADAME ROLAND. wrote treatises on the arts, I did the same, though the subject was tedious to me. If he wished to write an essay for some academy, we sat down to write in concert, that we might afterward compare our productions, choose the best, or compress them into one. If he had written homiUes, I should have written homihes also. I never interfered with his administration ; but if a circular letter, or an important state -paper, were wanted, we talked over the matter with our usual freedom ; and im- pressed with his ideas, and teeming with my own, I sometimes took up the pen, which I had more leisure to conduct than he had. Our principles and turn of mind being the same, my husband ran /no risk in passing through my hands. Without me, Roland would have been quite as good a min- ister ; for his knowledge, his activity, and his in- tegrity were all his own : but with me he attracted more attention ; because I infused into his writings ^ that mixture of spirit and gentleness, of authorita- tive reason and seducing sentiment, which is per- haps only to be found in the language of a woman, who has a clear head and a feeling heart. If my compositions could be of use, it afforded me great- er pleasure than it would have done to have been I known as their author. I am avaricious of happi- ness, but I do not stand in need of glory ; nor can I find any part to perform in this world that suits me, but that of providence. I allow the malicious to look upon this remark as a piece of impertinence, which it must somewhat resemble ; those who know MADAME ROLAND. 211 me will see nothing in it bat what is sincere, like myself. * I was generally so much occupied with the im- portance of the subject in which we were engaged, that my thoughts did not even revert to myself. Once, however, I recollect being diverted by a curi- ous coincidence of circumstances. I was writino- to the Pope, to claim the French artists imprisoned at Rome. — A letter to the sovereio;n Pontiff in the name of the Executive Council of France, sketched secretly by a woman, in her humble closet, appeared to me so strange a thing, that I laughed heartily when I had finished it. The pleasure of such contrasts consisted in their secrecy ; and that was necessarily less attainable when the eye of a clerk surveyed the hand-writing he copied. If those who found me out, had formed a right judgment of things, they would have saved me from a sort of celebrity to which I never aspired ; and instead of spending my time to refute their falsehoods, I might now be reading Montaigne, painting a flower, or playing an ariette. Household cares I never neg- ^ lected ; but I cannot comprehend how a woman of method and activity can have her attention engross- < ed by them. If the family be large, there are the greater number of persons to divide the cares ; noth- ino[ is wanted but a moderate share of vimlance, and a proper distribution of employments. In the different situations in which I have been placed, nothing has been done without my orders ; yet when I have had the most to superintend, I have 212 MADAME ROLAND. never consumed more than two hours of the day. People who know how to employ themselves, always find leisure moments, while those who do nothing are forever in a hurry. I have seen notable wo- men who were insupportable to the world, and to their husbands, by a fatiguing pre-occupation about their trifling concerns. I think a wife should su- perintend everything herself, without saying a word about it ; and with such command of temper, and management of time, as will leave her the means of pleasing by her good-humor, intelligence, and the grace natural to her sex. It is much the same in governments as in families ; those statesmen, as well as housewives, who make a great bustle about the difficulties they are in, are the very ones, who are too indolent, too awkward, or too ignorant to re- move them.' A life so full of changes as that of Madame Ro- land, of Course afforded striking contrasts. She tells us that one day as she was stepping out of the spacious dining-room which the elegant Calonne had fitted up-^r Madame Nedss^. she met a gray- headed gentleman, who bowed very low, and beg- ged her to obtain for him an interview with the Minister of the Interior. She afterward found that this gentleman was M. Haudry, whose relations had invited her to dine with their servants ; he had squandered his fortune in dissipation, and came to ask M. Roland to procure him a place in a man- ufactory. But situations the most elevated are often far MADAME ROLA ND. 213 from being the most enviable. Base and selfish men joined the popular party, ready to serve it for money, or to betray it the moment it became weak. Such men could not but clash with Roland, who was conscientious in his motives, and unyielding in his opinions. To this was added the immense ac- cumulation of labor devolving upon a public officer, in those distracted times, and the difficulty of find- ing men of probity and skill to assist him. Mad- ame Roland says, ' It seems as if France were des- titute of men ; their scarcity has been truly surpris- ing in this revolution, in which scarcely anything but pigmies have appeared. I do not mean, how- ever, that there was any w^ant of wit, of learning, of accomplishments, or of philosophy. These in- gredients ^vere never so common — it is the bright blaze of an expiring taper. But as to that firmness of mind, which Rousseau calls the first attribute of a hero, supported by that soundness of judgment, which knows how to set a true value upon things, and by those extensive views, which penetrate into futurity, altogether constituting the character of a great man, they were sought for everywhere, and were scarcely to be found. Before I became ac- quainted with public affairs I was as distrustful of myself as a novice in her cloister. I thought that men, who spoke with more decision than myself, were more able. It required the bustle of a rev- olution, and an opportunity to make comparisons among a crowd of distinguished men, to enable me to perceive that the bench on which I was standing 214 MADAME ROLAND. was not likely to break down with the throng. The conviction tended rather to lower my estimate of the species, than to elevate the opinion of myself.' The admission of Danton into the councils of government was, as Madame Roland had fore- seen, a source of perpetual vexation and distress to the true patriots. He had been admitted from ^ the bad political maxim, that an unprincipled man may be used as a tool, to bring about good purposes from wrong motives. Those who disliked his pro- ceedings, deemed it expedient to tolerate him, because he might prove a dangerous enemy. Self- ish and insidious, he availed himself of his posi- tion, and placed his vile creatures in almost every department. As his power increased, he showed more openly his dislike of Roland, who was too honest to be tampered with, and too fearless to be intimidated. They found Madame Roland had no weak side, through which her husband could be assailed, and they alike dreaded her frankness, her penetration, and her talents. It is hardly possible to suppose a situation more painful than that of an upright man in power compelled to witness abuses he cannot prevent, and to have the appearance of sanctioning the crimes his soul abhors, Roland's health was impaired by it. He was unable to eat or sleep. Yet he deemed it his duty not to desert his post so long as there was a chance of checking the tide of anarchy. The massacres of the 2d of September filled him with horror. He wrote a let- ter to_the Assembly, as famous as his address to the MADAME ROLAND. 215 king ; it proved that he alike detested the tyranny u of a monarch and the tyranny of a mob. The department of the Somme, in which Roland had long resided, elected him a member of the Convention ; in consequence of which, he thought proper to offer to the Assembly a resignation of his office in the ministry. This proposal produced a good deal of agitation. Many of the members were alarmed at the idea of taking from the helm a man of understanding and tried integrity. A motion was made, that he should be urged to re- main in office : upon which Danton observed, ' If we invite him, we must extend the invitation to Madame. I am well aware of the virtues of the minister ; but we have need of men, who can see without the help of their wives.' The resignation was not accepted ; and a crowd of members repaired to his house, beseeching him not to quit the ministry, — urging it upon him as a sacrifice he owed to his country. News was brought that his election as member of the Conven- tion was void, because it had been made in lieu of another, erroneously supposed to be null ; this cir- cumstance was known to Danton's party, but they endeavored to keep it concealed, until they could get Roland out of the ministry. Under these cir- cumstances, the Minister of the Interior resolved to remain at his dangerous post. The difficulties and perils of his situation increased daily. The Mountain Party, headed by Robespierre, Danton, and Marat, gained its awful ascendency. The in- 216 MADAME ROLAND. fluence of moderate and enlightened patriots was v"' an insufficient barrier against the ferocity of a law- less banditti. Roland and his party tried to stop the frightful increase of crime, and consequently were immediately branded by the fierce Moun- taineers, as conspirators against the liberties of France : they ridiculed the chimera of a Univer- sal Commonwealth, and a Convention composed of deputies from all parts of the world, and therefore they were denounced as vile corrupters of public opinion : they dared to say that Greece was com- posed of small confederate republics, and that the United States exhibited the best model of a good social organization — and they were immediately represented as federalists, men ambitious of su- preme power, the secret friends of England, &c, &c. The social dinners, which Madame Roland could not well avoid giving to public men, were repre- sented as sumptuous feasts, where she, like a new Circe, corrupted all who were unfortunate enough to partake of her banquet. On the 7th of Decem- ber she was called before the Convention to answer to certain accusations ; and the sincerity and elo- quence of her replies compelled her worst enemies to listen and admire. But in such times, innocence and talent could not produce any abiding effect. When artful politicians courted the scum of the populace, by cutting throats, drinking, swearing, and dressing like sailors, it was deemed sufficient villany to profess morality, and retain politeness. The friends of Roland, having ascertained that MADAME ROLAND. 217 desperate men were constantly lurking about his house, urged him to remove his famil}'. At one time, Madame Roland was convinced that it would be better for her to retire to Ville Franche, and leave her husband to effect his escape, (should such a step become necessary,) unencumbered by his wife and child ; but her prevailing feeling was to remain with him and share the worst fate that might befal him. Her friends told her she must leave Paris in disguise ; and the dress of a peasant girl was brought for that purpose. The sight of it aroused all her fortitude — she indignantly threw it aside, exclaiming, ' I am ashamed of the part you would persuade me to act. I will neither disguise myself, nor go out of the way. If I am to be murdered, it shall be in my own mansion. I owe my country an example of firmness, and I will give it. I can- not suppose there are wretches, who could be easily induced to violate the asylum of a man in public office ; and if there be men so depraved, the per- petration of such an act would be productive of beneficial consequences.' Madame Roland was, however, so well aware of her danger, that she never slept without a pistol under her pillow ; not to kill those who might come to assassinate them, but to defend herself from outrages, of which the Revolution afforded too many examples. The deadly hostility between the Girondins and the Mountaineers increased daily. The former are accused of wishing to establish an aristocracy of 218 MADAME ROLAND. ^'talent on the ruins of the aristocracy of rank; the latter were for levelling all distinctions, even to breaking dovi?n the boundaries betvi^een vice and virtue. The Girondins, conscious of upright mo- tives, were no doubt too stern and unconciliating toward their opponents, and too irascible in debate : but the" Mountaineers were a violent, reckless set -.y of demagogues, whose most proper appellation would have been the Hurra-Party. Having no re- gard for the courtesies of life, the principles of truth, or the decencies of language, they attacked their enemies in the most profligate and shameless man- ner. Placards were posted in the streets, in w^hich Roland was not only accused of corruption, but the dagger was still more effectually struck at his heart by open charges against his virtuous wife. At last, finding it impossible to allay the tempest, and weary of being the member of a council without energy, and of a government without power, Roland gave in his accounts to the Convention, and asked his dis- mission. His request was granted. Marat pro- posed that he should not be allowed to quit Paris. The ex-Minister of the Interior, relying on the ex- actness of his accounts, demanded a report on his administration ; but his enemies knew his integrity too well, to allow him such an advantage. His ruin was resolved upon, and his friends were too weak to prevent it. At the time of the insurrection of the 3 1st of May, an attempt was made to arrest him. Madame Roland thus describes the scene : MADAME ROLAND. 219 ' It was half after five in the evening, when six men armed came to our house. One of them read to Roland an order of the revolutionary committee, by the authority of which they came to apprehend him. " I know no law/' said Roland, " which constitutes the authority you cite to me, and I shall obey no orders proceeding from it. If you employ violence, I can only oppose to you the resistance of a man of my years ; but I shall protest against it to the last moment." — "I have no order to employ violence," replied the person, " and I will leave my colleagues here, while I go and report your answer to the council of the commune." ' Immediately it occurred to me, that it would be well to announce this circumstance to the Conven- tion with some noise, in order to prevent the arrest of Roland, or to obtain his prompt release, if this should be carried into execution. To communicate the thought to my husband, write a letter to the president, and set out, was the business of a few minutes. My servant was absent : I left a friend, who was in the house, with Roland ; and stepped alone into a hackney-coach, which I ordered to pro- ceed as fast as possible to the Carrousel. The court of the Tuileries was filled with armed men. I crossed , and flew through the midst of them like a bird. I- was dressed in a morning gown, and had put on a black shawl, and a veil. On my arrival at the doors of the outer halls, which were all shut, I found sentinels, who allowed no one to enter, or sent me by turns from one door to another. In 220 MADAME ROLAND. vain I insisted on admission : at length I bethought myself of employing such language, as might have been uttered by some devotee of Robespierre : *' But, citizens, in this day of salvation for our coun- try, in the midst of those traitors we have to fear, you know not of what importance some notes I have to transmit to the president may be. Let me at least see one of the messengers, that I may entrust them to him." ' The door opened, and I entered into the peti- tioners' hall. I inquired for a messenger of the house. " Wait tiirone comes out :" said one of the inner sentinels. A quarter of an hour passed away : I perceived Roze, the person who brought me the decree of the convention, which invited me to repair to the bar, on occasion of the ridiculous accusation of Viard, whom I overwhelmed with confusion : now I solicited permission to appear there, and an- nounced Roland to be in danger, with which the public weal was connected. But circumstances were no longer the same, though my rights were equal ; before invited, now a suppliant, could I ex- pect the same success ? Roze took charge of my letter ; understood the subject of my impatience ; and repaired to lay it on the table, and urge its be- ing read. An hour elapsed. I walked hastily backwards and forwards : every time the door open- ed my eyes were cast towards the hall, but it was immediately shut by the guard : a fearful noise was heard at intervals : Roze again appeared. — >■ ^' Well?" — " Nothing has been done yet. A tumult MADAME ROLAND. 221 I cannot describe prevails in the assembly. Some petitioners, now at the bar demand the two-and-twen- ty io be apprehended : I have just assisted Riband to slip out without being seen ; they are not willing he should make the report of the commission of twelve : he has been threatened : several others are escaping : there is no knowing what will be the event." — " Who is the president now ?" — " He- raut-Sechelles." *^ Ah ! my letter will not be read. Send some deputy to me, with whom I can speak a few words." — '' Whom?" — ''Indeed I have been little acquainted, or have little esteem for any, but those, who are proscribed. Tell Vergniaux I am inquiring for him." ' Roze went in quest of him. After a consider- able time he appeared. We talked together for ten minutes. He went back into the hall, return- ed, and said to me : " In the present state of the assembly, I dare not flatter you ; you have little to hope. If you get admission to the bar, you may obtain a little more favor as a woman ; but the con- vention can do no more good." — "It can do everything," exclaimed I; "for the majority of Paris seeks only to know what it has to do. If I were admitted, I would venture to say, what you could not, v/ilhout exposing yourself to an accusa- tion. I fear nothing ; and if I cannot save Roland, I will utter v/ith energy truths, which will not be useless to the republic. Inform your worthy col- leagues : a burst of courage may have a great effect, and at least will set a great example." — In fact, I 222 MADAME ROLAND. was in that temper of mind, which imparts elo- quence : warm with indignation, superior to all fear, my bosom glowing for my country, the ruin of which I foresaw, everything dear to me in the world exposed to the utmost danger, feeling strongly, ex- pressing my sentiments with fluency, too proud not to utter them with dignity, I had subjects in which I was highly interested to discuss, possessed some means of defending them, and was in a singular situation for doing it with advantage. " But at any rate, your letter cannot be read this hour or tw^o : a plan of a decree, forming six articles, is going to be discussed : petitioners, deputed by the sections, wait at the bar : think what an attempt !" — "I will go home, then, to hear what has passed ; and will immediately return : so tell our friends." — " Most of them are absent : they show themselves courageous, when they are here ; but they are de- ficient in assiduity." — " That is unfortunately too true." * I quitted Vergniaux : I flew to Louvet's : I wrote a note to inform him of what was going on, and what I foresaw. I flung myself into a hackney- coach, and ordered it home. The poor horses answered not the speed of my wishes. Soon we were met by some battalions, whose march stopped us : I jumped out of the coach, paid the coachman, rushed through the ranks, and made off. This was near the Louvre. I ran to our house, which was opposite St Come, in Harp -street. The porter whispered me, that Roland was gone into the land- MADAME ROLAND. 233 lord's, at the bottom of the court. Thither I re- paired, in a profuse perspiration. A glass of wine was brought me, and I was told that the bearer of the mandate of Sinest havinor returned, without be- ing able to procure a hearing at the council, Ro- land had persisted in protesting against his orders ; and that these good people had demanded his pro- test in writing, and had then withdrawn : after which Roland went through the landlord's apart- ment, and got out of the house the back way. I did the same to find him, to inform him of what I had done, and to acquaint him with the steps I meant to pursue. At the first house to which I re- paired, I found him not : in the second I did. From the solitariness of the streets, which were illuminated, I presumed it was late ; yet this did not prevent my design of returning to the conven- tion. There I would have appeared ignorant of Roland's escape, and spoken as I before intended . I was about to set off on foot, without being con- scious, that it was past ten o'clock, and that I was out that day for the first time since my illness, which demanded rest and the bath. A hackney- coach was brought me. On approaching the Car- rousel, I saw nothing more of the armed force : two pieces of cannon, and a few men, were still at the gate of th e national palace : I went up to it, and found the sitting was dissolved ! * What, on the day of an insurrection, when the sound of the alarm-bell scarcely ceases to strike the ear, when forty thousand men in arms sur- 224 MADAME ROLAND. rounded the convention only two hours before, and petitioners threatened its members from the bar, the assembly is not permanent ! — Surely then it is completely subjugated ! it has done everything, that it was ordered ! The revolutionary power is so mighty, that the convention dares not oppose it, and it has no need of the convention ! ' " Citizens," said I to -some sans-culottes collect- ed round a cannon, " has everything gone well ?" — " O wonderfully ! they embraced, and sung the hymn of the Marseillese, there, under the tree of liberty." — " What, then, is the right side appeas- ed ?" — '' Faith, it was obliged to listen to reason." — " And what of the committee of twelve ?" — " It is kicked into the ditch." — " And the twentytwo ?" — " The municipality will cause them to be taken up." — " Good : but can it '?" — " Is it not the sove- reign ? It was necessary it should, to set those b of traitors right, and support the common- wealth." — "But will the departments be vtell pleased to see their representatives * * * * — " What are you talking of ? the Parisians do nothing but in concert with the departments : they have said so to the convention." — " That is not too clear, for, to know their will, the primary assemblies should have met." — " Were they wanting on the 10th of August ? Did not the departments ap- prove what Paris did then ? They do the same now ; it is Paris that saves them." — " That ruins them rather, perhaps." ' I had crossed the court, and arrived at my hack- MADAME ROLAND. 225 ney-Goach, as I finished this dialogue with an old sans-culotte, no doubt well paid to tutor the dupes. A pretty dog pressed close at my heels : — "Is the poor creature your's?" said the coachman to me, with a tone of sensibility very rare among his fel- lows, which struck me extremely. — " No : I am not acquainted with him :" answered I gravely, as if I were speaking of a man, and already thinking of something else : " you will set me down at the gal- leries of the Louvre." There I intended to call on a friend, with whom I would consult on the means of getting Roland out of Paris. We had not gone a dozen yards before the coach stopped. " What is the matter ?" said I to the coachman. — '' Ah, he has left me ; like a fool ; and I w^anted to keep him for my little boy. He would have been highly pleased with him. Wheugh ! Wheugh ! Wheugh !" 1 recollected the dog : it w^as gratifying to me to have for a coachman, at such an hour, a man of a good heart, of feeling, and a father. " Endeavor to catch him :" said I, " you shall put him into the coach, and I will take care of him for you." — The good man, quite delighted, caught the dog, opened the door, and gave him to me for a companion. The poor animal appeared sensible, that he had found protection and an asylum : I was greatly ca- ressed by him, and I thought of that tale of Sandi, in which is described an old man, weary of his fellow creatures, and disgusted with their passions, who retired to a wood, in which he constructed himself a dv/elling, ofw^hich he sweetened the soli- 15 226 MADAME ROLAND. tude by means of some animals, who repaid his cares with testimonies of affection, and with a species of gratitude, to which he confined himself, for want of meeting with its like among mankind. * Pasquier had just gone to bed. He rose : I proposed to him my plan. We agreed that he should come to me the next day after seven o'clock, and I would inform him where to find his friend. I returned to my coach : it was stopped by the sen- try, at the post of the Woman of Samaria. "Have a little patience :" whispered the coachman to me, turning back on his seat : *' it is the custom at this time of night." — The serjeant came and opened the door. " Who is here ?" — *' A woman." — " Whence do you come ?" — " From the conven- tion." — " It is very true :" added the coachman, as if he feared, I should not be credited. — '' Whith- er are you going ?" — " Home." — " Have you no bundles?"— "I have nothing. See." — " But the assembly has broken up." — " Yes : at which I am very sorry, for I had a petition to make." — " A woman ! at this hour ! it is very strange : it is very imprudent." — '* No doubt it is not a very common occurrence : I must have had strong rea- sons for it." — "But, madam, alone?" — "How, sir, alone ! Do you not see I have innocence and truth with me ? what more is necessary ?" — " I must submit to your reasons." — " And you do well :" replied I, in a gentler tone : " for they are good." * The horses were so fatigued, that the coach- MADAME ROLAND. ' 227 man was obliged to pull them by the bridle, to get them up the hill, in the street in which I resided. I got home : I dismissed him : and I had ascended eight or ten steps, when a man, close at my heels, who had slipped in at the gate unperceived by the porter, begged me to conduct him to citizen Ro- land. — " To his apartments, with all my heart, if you have anything of service to him to impart : but to him is impossible." — ** This evening he will cer- tainly be apprehended." — " They must be very dexterous, who accomplish it." — " You give me great pleasure ; for it is an honest citizen who ac- cbsts you." — "I am glad of it :" said I, and went on, without well knowing what to think of the ad- venture.' While Madame Roland was at the Convention, trying to arouse her husband's irresolute friends, he made his escape to a neighboring house, where she had an interview with him after she returned. The officers who again came to arrest him, were much enraged. Roland, however, eluded their vigilance, and reached Rouen in safety, were he remained concealed till a week before his death. It seems probable that Madame Roland might like- wise have effected her escape, had she taken the resolution promptly : but heart-sick at the wretched condition of her country she valued life less than she had done in the proud enthusiasm of her patri- otic hopes ; and anxious to divert the fury of the populace from her husband, she made no effort to find a shelter from the storm. ' It would have cost v^ 228 MADAME ROLAND. me more trouble,' says she, * to escape from injus- tice than it does to submit to it.' The National seal was put upon their furniture. During this scene the rooms were crowded with the mob ; and the atmosphere became so filled with noisome ex- halations, that she was obliged to seek the window for fresh air. She was hurried away to prison on the charge of being an accomplice with the con- spirators against the liberties of France. An arm- ed force followed the coach ; and as it passed along some of the women among the populace cried out, * Away with her to the guillotine ! ' One of the com- missioners asked, ' Shall we close the blinds of the carriage ? ' Madame Roland replied, ' No, gentle- men. I do not fear the eyes of the populace. In- nocence should never assume the guise of crime.' The officer answered, ' Madam, you have more strength of mind than many men. You wait patient- ly for justice ! ' ' Justice ! ' she exclaimed ; ^ were justice done, I should not be here. But if I am des- tined for the scaffold, I shall walk to it with the same firmness and tranquillity with which I now go to prison. I never feared anything but guilt. But my heart bleeds for my country. I regret my mistake in supposing it qualified for liberty and happiness.' Having lodged her in the Abbey Prison, the Commissioners withdrew, leaving very severe or- ders with the keeper. Before they went, they took occasion to observe that Roland's flight was a proof of his guilt ; to which she replied, ' There is some- MADAME ROLAND. 229 thing so abominable in persecuting a man who has rendered such important services in the cause of liberty, whose conduct has always been so open, and whose accounts are so clear, that he is fully justified in avoiding the last outrages of envy and malice. Just as Aristides, and as severe as Cato, he is indebted to his virtues for his enemies. Let them satiate their fury on me — I defy its power, and devote myself to death. He ought to save himself for the sake of a country to which he may yet do good.' An awkward and confused bow was the only answer the officers thought fit to make. Neither promises nor threats could induce her to reveal the secret of her husband's retreat. Her constant reply was, ' I scorn to tell a falsehood ; I know his plans ; but I neither ought nor choose to tell them.' Eudora was left by lier mother to the care of the weeping domestics. ' Those people love you,' ob- served one of the Commissioners. * I never had those about me who did not,' she replied. She alone remained calm and proud, amid the most touching demonstrations of affection and distress. Soon after her departure, the kind-hearted Bosc, who had long been a friend to the minister and his wife, took upon himself the responsibility of providing for Eudora ; and immediately placed her with a worthy woman, who watched over her with truly maternal tenderness. By the kindness of the keeper and his wife, Madame Roland was made as comfortable as a 230 MADAME ROLAND. prisoner could be ; the woman expressed the regret she always felt when female prisoners were brought in ; adding, ' All of them have not your serene countenance, madam.' Madame Roland's '^first care was to arrange her little apartment with neatness and order. She had Thomson's Seasons in her pocket ; and she procur- ed Hume's History and Sheridan's Dictionary, in order to pursue her study of the English language. While she was making those peaceful preparations, the drums were beating, the alarm-bells ringing — and in the night she was continually awakened by the thundering voices of the patroles under her window, calling out, ' Who goes there ? — Kill him ! — Guard ! — Patrole ! ' Firm and unmoved in the anticipation of her own fate, her heart often bled at the thought of what her friends were suffering on her account ; particu- larly ' Roland proscribed and persecuted, and com- pelled to drink the bitter cup of his wife's imprison- ment.' By the connivance of the compassionate keeper several of her friends gained access to her. A favorite maid, who had lived with her many years, was willing to devote herself to her even unto death ; and through her she frequently conveyed her opinions and wishes to the political friends of her husband. By their advice she wrote an elo- quent Address to the National Convention, which concludes thus : ' Lastly, I demand of the Con- vention a report on the accounts of that irreproach- able man, who seems destined to give Europe a MADAME ROLAND. 231 terrible lesson of virtue proscribed by the blind- ness of infuriate prejudice. If to have shared the strictness of his principles, the energy of his mind, the ardor of his love for liberty, be a crime — then indeed I acknowledge myself guilty, and await my punishment. Pronounce your sentence, legislators ! France, freedomj the fate of the republic, and of yourselves, depend on your decision.' Two other addresses were written by the prison- er, to demand a statement of the crimes for w^hich she had been arrested, and to insist upon an open and impartial trial ; one was addressed to the Min- ister of Justice, the other to the Minister of the Home Department. Hearing that their section (that of Beaurepaire) had expressed sentiments highly favorable to Roland, she resolved to place herself under its protection. In her letter she says, * If the section think it not beneath its dignity to plead the cause of suffering innocence, it w^ill be easy to send a deputation to the bar of the Conven- tion to make known my complaints and to add weight to my arguments ; I submit this point to its wisdom ; I add no entreaties. Those who love justice do not need petitions ; and innocence and truth should never resort to supplication.' The section were desirous of affording protec- tion ; but their timid efforts afforded no barrier to the overwhelming power of the Mountain Party. Madame Roland, in the meantime, completely gain- ed the hearts of her keeper and their attendants, by her patient cheerfulness. She waited entirely 232 MADAME ROLAND. upon herself, because she preferred to be employed, and because she did not expect to find in a prison the scrupulous neatness which her habits required ; yet unwilling to deprive the servants of their cus- tomary perquisites, she frequently made them pres- ents. Her food was as simple as the repasts of an anchorite ; but despising useless economy the mon- ey saved in this way was distributed among her fellow-prisoners. The first five weeks were em- ployed in writing Historic Notices of the scenes, she had witnessed, and the characters with whom she had associated. The person to whom she in- trusted these documents was placed in great peril, and she was led to suppose that he had destroyed them to secure his own safety. The idea seems to have distressed her more than any of her previous misfortunes. She busied herself to repair the loss ; and as both sets of papers were afterward published with her memoirs, there is of course a good deal of repetition. Her friends, being aware of her passionate love of flowers, found means to send them to her fre- quently. She says, ' The sight of a flower always delighted my imagination, and flattered my senses, to an inexpressible degree. Under the happy shel- ter of my paternal roof I was happy from infancy with my flowers and books ; in the narrow con- fines of a prison with books and flowers, I can for- get my own misfortunes and the injustice of man- kind.' The jailer used to admire the pleasure she took in arranging her bouquets ; he often said to MADAME ROLAND. 233 her, ' I shall always call this room the Pavilion of Flora, in remembrance of you.' The next occu- pant of that apartment was her friend Brissot ; and the next was the celebrated Charlotte Cord ay. The promised examination was deferred. She says, ' However, I sometimes received visits from administrators with foolish faces and dirty ribands, some of whom said they belonged to the police, and others to I know not what ; violent sans-culottes , with filthy hair, who came to know if the prison- ers were satisfied with their treatment. They asked, " Is your health impaired ? Does solitude affect your spirits ? " — " No. I am well and cheer- ful. Ennui is the disease of hearts without feel- ing, and of minds without resources. All I ask is an examination, that I may know why I am im- prisoned." — '^ In a revolution there is so much to do, that there is not time for everything." " A woman said to King Phillip, ' if you have not time to do justice, you have no time to be a king.' Tell the sovereign people the same things ; or rather the arbitrary authorities by whom the people are mis- led." ' ' Madame Roland would never comply with the popular whim of substituting the word Citizen for the customary appellation of Monsieur. The Jac- obin officers, who came to look at her in her cage, were highly incensed at her obstinacy in accost- ing them with a title they had branded as aristo- cratic. On the 24th of June, two men came to inform 234 MADAME ROLAND. her that she was at liberty ; and before noon she bade farewell to the kind jailer and his wife. The following is her account of this cruel mockery : * I drove home to leave a few things there, intend- ing to proceed immediately to the house of the worthy people, who had so generously protected my daughter. I quitted the hackney-coach with that activity which never allowed me to get out of a carriage without jumping, passed under the gate- way like a bird, and said cheerfully to the porter as I went by, " Good morning, Lamarre ! " I had scarcely put my foot upon the steps, when two men who had followed me closely, called out, " Citoyenne Roland !" — " What do you wish ? " — " In the name of the law, we arrest you ! " — Those who have feelings, can imagine something of what I felt at that moment.' She asked permission to go to her landlord's house on some business ; and the officers followed her thither. Here she avowed her resolution of putting herself under the protec- tion of her section. Her landlord's son, with all the warmth and indignation of youth, immediately offer- ed to carry a message for her. He was afterward dragged to the scaffold for this act of generosity, and his father died of grief Two commissioners of her section came and attended her to the mayor's. She remained guarded in the anticham- ber, while the discussion went on with increasing warmth ; in vain she pleaded her right to be pres- ent at a debate of which she was the subject. But when a police-officer came to take her into custody, MADAME ROLAND. ~" 235 she set the door of the office wide open, and ex- claimed aloud, " Commissioners of the section of Beaurepaire ! T give you notice they are taking me to prison ! " '' We cannot help it^'' was the re- ply ; " But the section will not forget you ; you shall have a public examination." Noise and fury left no chance for reason to be heard : She was conveyed to the prison of Sainte Pelagie. The wing appropriated to females was divided into long narrow corridors, on one side of which were very small cells ; one of which Madame Roland occu- pied. Under the same roof, upon the same line, and separated only by a very thin partition, were murderers, and women of the town ; and in the morning, (the only time when the doors were open- ed) this scum of the earth collected in the corri- dors. Under such circumstances, Madame Roland, of course, confined herself very strictly to her cells; but the thinness of the partitions compelled her to hear the blasphemous and lascivious conversa- tion of these wretches. To make the state of things worse, the apartments occupied by the men had windows fronting the cells occupied by these aban- doned women ; and during the whole day she could not raise her eyes to the windows without witnessing some specimen of human depravity. Even in the remotest corner of her noisome cell she could not shut her ears against disgusting lan- guage. She says, ' Such was the dwelling reserved for the virtuous wife of an honest man ! Who can wonder at my contempt of life 1 Who cannot un- 236 MADAME ROLAND. derstand that death itself had charms. Such are the signs of liberty given by men, who, in the Champ de Mars, send up birds carrying streamers, to announce to the inhabitants of the upper regions the freedom and felicity of the earth.' The jailer's wife, impressed with the serene dignity of her manners, invited her to pass the days in her little parlor. A piano was brought, with which she sometimes wiled away the linger- ing hours ; and her friends still found means to cheer her with her favorite flowers. Hope, for a while, revived her patriotic zeal ; for the rising of several departments announced the indignation of the people, and threatened the overthrow of Ro- bespierre. She was not, however, suffered to enjoy the external means of comfort which had been offered her. The inspectors of the prisons severe- ly reprimanded the jailer's wife for her kindness, telling her it was her business to maintain equality. Thus Madame Roland was compelled to return to the fetid air of the corridor, sadly illuminated by a lamp, the smoke of which suffocated the whole neighborhood. True to the firmness and consistency of her char- acter, she comforted the jailer's wife by the cheer- ful resignation with which she submitted to the change. In the morning she read English in Thomson's Seasons, and Shaftsbury's Essay on Virtue, She then amused herself with drawing until dinner-time ; speaking of the pleasure she found in this employment, she urges the necessity MADAME ROLAND. 237 of acquiring accomplishments as a resource in soli- tude and sorrow. The afternoons she devoted to Plutarch and Tacitus. The latter inspired her with passionate admiration. She says, ' If fate had allowed me to live, I believe I should have been ambitious of but one thing ; and that would have been to write the Annals of the Present Age. I cannot go to sleep till I have read a portion of Ta- citus. It seems to me that we see things in the same light, and that, in time, and with a subject equally rich, it would not have been impossible for me to imitate his style.' It was some alleviation of her situation, that Robespierre filled the neighboring corridors with virtuous women ; like her, the victims of the most abominable tyranny that ever disgraced the earth. Some of these ladies were the wives of Roland's political friends. Their fortunes were confiscated to the nation, and they often suffered for the com- mon necessaries of life. Madame Roland beinsr unable to meet her few and simple wants, asked one of her former domestics to sell some empty bottles in her cellar, on which the seal of the na- tion had not been placed ; but a great outcry was immediately raised, and a guard placed round the house. Madame Roland remained in the cell of Sainte Pelagic until the 1st of October. Her friends wished to assist her in making her escape ; but she answered, ^ I have fixed my resolution to remain here and await my fate ; my flight would only exasperate my husband's enemies. 238 MADAME ROLAND. In prison, surrounded by dangers and alarms of every kind, hourly expecting a summons to the scaffold, she wrote her memoirs. Calumniated on all sides, she was naturally desirous that posterity should grant to her husband and herself the im- partial hearing, which their cotemporaries denied. She says, ' I shall exhibit the fair and unfavorable side of my character with equal freedom. He who dares not speak well of himself is generally a cow- ard, knowing and dreading the evil that may be said of him ; and he who hesitates to confess his faults, has neither spirit to vindicate, nor virtue to repair them. Thus frank with respect to myself, I shall not be scrupulous with regard to others. Father, mother, friends, husband — I shall paint them all in their proper colors ; at least as they appeared to me.' As these memoirs followed the current of her thoughts, without any order, they are naturally in- terspersed with apostrophes, and reflections, of which the following are a sample : *My much re- vered husband, grown weak and weary of thq world, and sunk into premature old age, which you preserve by painful efforts from the pursuit of the assassins — shall I ever be permitted to see you again, to pour the balm of consolation into your sorely bruised heart 1 — How much longer am I destined to remain a witness of the desolation of my native land, and the degradation of my country- men 1 Assailed by these afflicting images, I can- not steel my heart against sorrow : a few scalding MADAME ROLAND. 239 tears start from my heavy eyes ; and the pen, that passed so lightly over my youthful days, is suffered to lie idle.' ***** =;;^ ' Thou Supreme Being ! Principle of everything that is good and great ! Thou in whose existence I believe, because I must needs emanate from some- thing better than what I see around me — I shall soon be re-united to thine essence.' # # * * * * # 'All- whom heaven in its bounty has given me for friends, I beseech you cherish my orphan. A young plant violently torn from its native soil, where it would, perchance, have been withered, or bruised by the spoiler ; but you have placed her in a kind- ly shelter, beneath a reviving shade. May her vir- tues repay your care i * * * And she, my darling girl, cannot appear in the streets with her beautiful fair hair, and her youthful bash- fulness, but she is pointed at by hirelings, as the child of a conspirator.' ' Farewell, my dear child, my worthy husband, ' my faithful servant, and my good friends — Fare- well, thou sun, whose resplendent beams used to shed serenity over my soul, while they recalled it to the skies — Farewell, ye solitary fields, which I have so often contemplated with emotion — And you, ye rustic inhabitanis of Thezee, who were wont to bless my presence, whom I attended in sickness, whose labors I alleviated, whose indigence I relieved, farewell. — Farevv^ell, peaceful re- tirements, where I enriched my mind with moral 240 MADAME ROLAND. truths, and learned, in the silence of meditation, to govern my passions, and despise the vanity of the world. ' Splendid chimeras ! from vi^hich I have reaped so much delight, you are all dispelled by the horri- ble corruptions of this vast city. Farevt^ell, my country ! Sublime illusions, generous sacrifices, hope, and happiness, farewell !' While in prison, she wrote a very remarkable letter to Robespierre, from which I cannot for- bear taking an extract : — 'I regarded the first cal- umnies invented against me as contemptible follies ; but they have increased with effrontery propor- tioned to my calmness. * I have been dragged to prison, where I have remained nea,rly five months ; far removed from everything dear to me ; loaded with the abuse of a deluded populace, who believe that my death will be conducive to their happiness ; hearing the guards under my grated window divert- ing themselves with the idea of my punishmignt; and reading the offensive reproaches of writers who never saw my face. Yet I have wearied no one with remonstrances. Wanting many things, I have asked for nothing ; I have hoped for justice, and an end to prejudice, from the hand of time. I have made up my mind to misfortune — proud of trying my strength with her, and trampling her under my feet. It is not, Robespierre, to excite your compassion, that I present you with a picture less melancholy than the truth. I am above asking MADAME ROLAND. 241 your pity ; and were it offered, I should perhaps deem it an insult. I write for your instruction. Fortune is fickle ; and popular favor is liable to change. Contemplate the fate of those who have agitated, pleased, or governed the people, from Viscellinus to Caesar, and from Hippo of Syracuse to our Parisian orators ! Justice and truth alone remain, a consolation in every misfortune, even in the hour of death ; while nothing can shelter us from the strokes of conscience. Marius and Sylla proscribed thousands of knights, senators, and wretched men. Can they stifle the voice of history, which has devoted their memories to execration ? If you wish to be just, and attend to what I write, my letter will not be useless to you, and may possi- bly be of service to my country. Be that as it may, Robespierre, your conscience must tell you that a person who has known me cannot persecute me without remorse.' This manly letter was not sent to the monster for whom it was designed, because she feared it would do no good, and only serve to exasperate a tyrant * who might sacrifice her, but who could not degrade her.' The two following letters were written October 18th, 1793. * TO MY DAUGHTER. * I do not know, my dear girl, whether I shall be allowed to see or write to you again. Remember your mother^ In these few words is contained the best advice I can give you. You have seen me 16 242 MADAME ROLAND. happy in fulfilling my duties, and in giving assist- ance to those in distress. It is the only way of being happy. You have seen me tranquil in mis-^ fortune and confinement, because I was free from remorse, and because I enjoyed the pleasing re- collections, that good actions leave behind them. These are th6 only things that can enable us to support the evils of life, and the vicissitudes of for- tune. Perhaps you are not fated, and I hope you are not, to undergo trials so severe as mine ; but there are others, against which you ought to be equally on your guard. Serious and industrious habits are the best preservative against every danger ; and necessity, as well as prudence, com- mands you to persevere diligently in your studies. Be worthy of your parents. They leave you great examples to follow ; and if you are careful to avail yourself of them, your existence will not be useless to mankind. Farewell, my beloved child — you who drew life from my bosom, and whom I wish to impress with all my sentiments. The time will come, when you will be better able to judge of the efforts I make at this moment, to repress the tender emotions excited by your dear image. I press you to my heart. Farewell, my Eudora.' ' TO MY FAITHFUL SERVANT, FLEURY. ' My dear Fleury, whose fidelity and attach- ment have been so grateful to me for thirteen years, receive my embraces, and my farewell. Preserve the remembrance of what I was. It MADAME ROLAND. 243 will console you for what I suffer. The good pass on to glory when they descend into the grave. My sorrows are nearly ended. Think of the peace I am about to enjoy, which nobody can disturb, and do not grieve for me. Tell my poor Agatha that I carry with me to the grave the satisfaction of being beloved by her from my childhood, and the regret of not being able to give her proofs of my attachment. I could have wished to be of service to you — at least, do not let me afflict you. Fare- well, my poor Fleury — farewell.' The first of October witnessed the execution of the twentytwo deputies of the Girondins ; and soon after, Madame Roland was removed to the prison of the Conciergerie ; where she was placed in a noisome room, and compelled to sleep without sheets, upon a bed, which a fellow prisoner was good enough to lend her. Two days succes- siv'ely, she was called before the tribunal for exami- nation. On these occasions, she exhibited her usual fearless eloquence, and unbending courage, temper- ed with an extreme degree of caution in all that could implicate her husband, or friends. When asked whether she had any idea where Roland was, she answered, ' I know of no law which requires me to betray the dearest'sentiments of nature.' Upon which, the public accuser exclaimed that there was no end to her loquacity. She smiled serenely as she retired from the tribunal, saying, ' How 1 pity you ! I forgive the unworthy things you have 244 MADAME ROLAND. said to me. You believe me to be a great criminal, and are impatient to convict me ; but how unfor- tunate are those who cherish such prejudices ! You can send me to the scaffold ; but you cannot deprive me of the satisfaction 1 derive from a good con- science, nor of the belief that posterity will revenge Roland and me, by consigning our persecutors to infamy. In return for the ill you mean to do me, I wish you the same peace of mind that I enjoy, whatever may be its reward.' Being desired to choose an advocate for her trial, she named Chauveau. That night she wrote a defence,* which she intended to read before the tribunal : it is remarkable for its acuteness, elo- quence, boldness and power. But alas, of what avail was reason against such men as she contended with ! The trial was a mockery. ' Madame Roland was not allowed to speak ; and hired ruffians vomited forth the most atrocious calumnies before other ruffians — all the execrable tools of Robespierre. A man, who had served M. Roland about eight months, was the only one who dared to speak truth ; and he was soon after sent to the scaffold to atone for the crime.' ' Madame Roland went to the place of trial with her usual firmness ; but when she returned, her eyes were glistening with tears. She had been treated with so much bru- tality, and questions so injurious to her honor had been asked, that her grief and indignation burst forth together.' * This Defence is added at the end of the volume. MADAME ROLAND. 245 When her advocate came to concert with her the means of defence for the ensuing day, she lis- tened calmly, and drawing a ring from her finger, presented it to him, saying, ' Do not come to the tribunal tomorrow. It cannot save me ; and it may ruin you. Accept the only token my poor gratitude can offer. Tomorrow, I shall no longer exist.' At one time she procured opium and resolved to die by her own hand ; she wrote her will, and gave detailed directions concerning the educa- tion of her daughter, and the management of that small part of her fortune, which she vainly hoped the laws would protect from the power of her ene- mies. She wrote to the lady who protected Eudora, expressing a wish that she might be sent to the paternal estate in the country, ' there to wait for happier days ; to cultivate her faculties, and pre- pare to meet reverses without fearing them, as well as to enjoy prosperity without being ambitious of it ; according to the example of parents, who lived without reproach and would die without terror.' While in this frame of mind, she writes thus : * Two months ago I aspired to the honor of ascend- ing the scaffold ; for the victim was then allowed to speak, and the energy of a courageous mind might have been serviceable to the cause of truth. But why should I now expose myself to the brutal in- solence of a mob too much deluded to derive any benefit from my death V Being summoned as a witness concerning the 246 MADAME ROLAND. accusations against her political friends, she says, * I wish to deserve death by giving in my testimony while they live ; I am impatient for the summons ; for I am afraid of losing the chance. This induces me to change the purpose for which all was pre- pared when I made my will. I will then drain the bitter cup to the last drop.' When sentence of death was pronounced against her, she said to her judges, ' You have thought me worthy to partake the fate of the great and good men, whom you have murdered ; I shall try to carry to the scaffold the same courage that they have shown.' ' On the day of her execution, she was dressed neatly in white, which was chosen as a symbol of her innocence ; and her long black hair fell in ringlets to her waist. After her condemnation, she passed into the prison with a quick step, that seemed like joy, and indicated to her fellow-prison- ers, by an expressive gesture that she was condemned to die. Lamarche was her companion in misfortune ; and his courage was not equal to her own ; but on her way to the scaffold, she talked with such un- affected cheerfulness that she made him smile sever- al times. When arrived at the place of execution, she bowed before the statue of Liberty, and uttered the memorable words — ' Oh liberty ! loliat crimes are commitied in thy name !' The following description of her is taken from Roiuffe's ' Memoirs of a Prisoner ; or a History of the Tyranny of Robespierre.' Roiuffe was one of MADAME ROLAND. 247 her companions in peril : ' Well aware of the fate that awaited her, her tranquillity remained undis- turbed. Though past the prime of life, she was still a charming woman. She was tall, and elegant- ly formed. Her countenance was expressive ; but misfortune and long confinement had left traces of melancholy on her face, which tempered its natural vivacity. She had the soul of a republican in a body moulded by the graces ; and fashioned by a certain courtly style of elegance. There was some- thing more than the usual feminine expression in her large dark eyes, which were soft and full of mean- ing. She often spoke tome at the bars with the freedom and courage of a great man. Such republi- can language in the mouth of a beautiful French woman, preparing for the scaffold, was a miracle of the Revolution, for which we were not prepared. We all stood listening to her with admiration and astonishment. Her conversation was serious with- out being cold ; and she expressed herself with such a choice of words, such harmony and cadence, that the ear was never satiated with the music of her language. She spoke of her political friends with respect ; but without effeminate regret, and often lamented their want of firmness. Sometimes her sex resumed the ascendencv ; and we saw that she had been weeping at the recollection of her husband and her child. The woman who waited on her, said to me one day, '' Before you, she sum- mons all her courage ; but in her own room, she sometimes leans against the casement, and weeps 243 MADAME ROLAND. for hours together." This union of softness and fortitude rendered her the more interesting. She remained eight days at the Concie?'gerie ; and in that short time rendered herself dear to all the pri- soners, who sincerely deplored her fate.' Madame Talma, wife of the celebrated actor, was confined in the prison with Madame Roland. She says, ' she behaved with great heroism on her way to the scaffold, but the evening before, she was uncommonly agitated. She spent the night in play- ing on the harpsichord ; but the air she struck, and her manner of playing, were so strange, so shock- ing, and so frightful, that the sounds will never escape my memory.' The following account published in the Moni- teiir, a paper in the service of her most violent enemies, corroborates the account of her fortitude, though it chooses to ascribe her firmness to the most unworthy motives. ^ Roland's wife, — a ge- nius for great projects, a philosopher of well-worded billets, a queen of the moment, surrounded by mer- cenary writers, to whom she gives suppers, distri- buting favors, places and money, — was a monster in every point of view. The disdainful looks she cast upon the people, and the judges chosen by the people, the proud obstinacy of her replies, her iron- ical gayety, and the firmness, of which she made such a parade, as she passed from the Palais de Justice to the Place de la Revolution, proved that her heart cherished no tender and affecting remem- brance. Nevertheless, she was a mother ; but she MADAME ROLAND. 249 had sacrificed nature by her attempts to rise above it. Her desire to be considered a talented and learned woman led her to forget the virtues appro- priate to her sex ; and this forgetfulness, always dangerous, finally led her to the scaffold.' Here is a precious moral lesson from the satel- lites of Robespierre ! men, who had neither virtue, learning, nor any other quality, that dignifies human nature — whose characters present the most dis- gusting and awful combination of the beasts of the earth with the spirits of the lower regions. Madame Roland had faults, and, in some re- spects her opinions are only useful in teaching us what to avoid ; but it is not true that her talents led her to neglect the domestic virtues ; on this sub- ject, she thought wisely, and conducted admirably. The Hon< A, H. Everett, in his Lecture before the Massachusetts Charitable Mechanic Associa- tion, pays the following tribute to the memory of Madame Roland : — ' But the most interesting person among the Gi- rondins, and the one who may perhaps be consid- ered the leader of the party, was the celebrated Madame Roland. Though educated under cir- cumstances not favorable to improvement, she had by the mere force of her own talent, placed her- self on a level, in point of information and extent of views, with the highest minds of her own, or any other time. She co-operated actively with her husband in the discharge of the duties of his de- partmentj and although she shared, in no small de« 250 MADAME ROLAND. gree, the exaggerations and deltisions of the period, she nevertheless exhibited a sounder sense, and a more resolute humanity than any of her political associates. She made the strongest effort in par- ticular to prevent her friends from being carried away by the more violent party, into a co-operation with the measures that led to the trial and condem- nation of the unfortunate king. She wrote with an eloquence and manly vigor, which would have done honor to the best authors in the language.' The London Critical Review says, ' As a wo- man, Madame Roland must be admired for her fancy, her abilities, her fidelity, and her magna- nimity in suffering. She was, however, far from being exempt from the most common failings of her sex or nation. In any country but her own, in any situation but that of a proscribed and persecuted woman, she would have made a distinguished fig- ure in life ; for she was ambitious of distinc- tion, and her abilities offered the only justification of which ambition is capable. The objections to her character are common to her with most of the French writers and politicians of that period. They are philosophers without wisdom, and moral- ists without religion. They form theories which promise the duration of ages ; but their practice is the immediate feeling of the moment.' Madame Roland was executed on the 8th of November, 1793, just as she was entering her for- tieth year. The sentence of condemnation was thus worded : * The public accuser has drawn up MADAME ROLAND. 251 the present indictment against Manon-Jeanne Phlipon, the wife of Roland, heretofore minister of the interior, for having wickedly, and designedly, aided and assisted in the conspiracy which existed against the unity and indivisibility of the republic, against the liberty and safety of the French people, by assembling at her house, in secret council, the principal chiefs of that conspiracy, and by keeping up a correspondence tending to facilitate their lib- erticide designs. The tribunal, having heard the public accuser deliver his reasons concerning the application of the law, condemns Manon-Jeanne, Phlipon, wife of Roland, to the punishment of death.' Madame Roland had often said her husband would not long survive her. The news of her death at first deprived him of his senses ; which only re- turned to make him feel more acutely the extrem- ity of anguish and despair. At first he resolved to go to Paris, to brave the fury of the Convention by uttering a few bold truths, and then follow her he had so much loved to the scaffold. But as his pub- lic condemnation would involve the confiscation of all his property, he hoped to save his daughter from poverty by committing suicide. On the 15th of November he left his retreat, being resolved not to bring ruin^on his benefactors by betraying their generosity. Having wandered several leagues to- ward Paris, he stopped, leaned against a tree, and stabbed himself with a sword, which he had carried in his cane. In his pocket was this letter : 252 MADAME ROLAND. ' Whoever you may be, that find me in my last repose, respect my remains! They are those of a man who consecrated his whole life to usefulness, and who has died as he lived, virtuous and honest. May my fellow-citizens learn to entertain more humane and gentle sentiments; the blood which is flowing in torrents in my country dictates this advice : these massacres can only be instigated by the most cruel enemies of France. Indignation, not fear, induced me to quit my retreat. When I heard the fate of my wife, I no longer wished to live in a world so polluted with crime.' His request was not complied with ; the rage of party spirit heaped the most insulting indignities upon his corpse. His fortune was confiscated to the nation. In 1 795 Madame Roland's memoirs, accompanied by some detached notes and historic sketches, were published by M. Bosc, for the benefit of her orphan, under the title of An Appeal to Impartial Posterity; in two octavo volumes. In 1800 her works were all published, by her friend Champagneux, in three volumes : consisting of the Appeal to Posterity ; Works of Leisure Hours, and Various Reflections; A Journey to Souci, and Travels in England and Switzerland. It is a little remarkable that two women so much distinguished as Madame de Stael and Madame Roland should not have made the slighest allusion to each other in their writings. Madame Roland was twelve years older than her celebrated cotem- MADAME ROLAND. 253 porary, and died before she obtained very exten- sive fame ; this may naturally enough account for her silence. But though their different rank in "^ society would prevent them from being personally known to each other, Madame de Stael must have heard of Madame Roland — she must have known how eloquently she wrote, and how courageously she suffered. Perhaps, amid the confused accounts and wilful misrepresentations of that period she might have been led to confound the sincere but sometimes wild enthusiast, with the reckless and violent advocates of uproar and carnage. Madame de Stael being much admired and flattered by the higher circles of society, naturally detested the spirit which led the Jacobins to persecute the aris- tocracy, and to condemn thousands to death for the mere accident of their birth and fortune : Mad- ame Roland, from her different location, viewed society in a totally dissimilar light ; she seldom met any of the aristocracy without having her feel- ^ ings wounded, or her pride insulted, by their arro- gant pretensions ; hence her strongest and deepest prejudices were all arrayed against them. For op- posite reasons, perhaps these ladies were alike in- capable of judging fairly of the existing evils in society, or of forming an impartial opinion of each other's merits. "^ A stronger reason for Madame de Stael's silence, than mere party prejudice, may be found in the fact that Madame Roland spoke very contemptuously ^ of M. Necker's talents, integrity, and patriotism : 254 W A DAME flOLAND. she describes him as, a man of moderate abilities, of whom the world had a good opinion, because he had a great opinion of himself, and loudly proclaim-, ed it ; a financier, who knew only how to calculate the contents of a purse, and who was always talk- ing about his character, as profligate women talk of their virtue.'* Both Madame de StaePand Madame Rolahd are so much connected with political history, that the estimation in which they are held is still a matter of party spirit. Probably no advocates of Robes- pierre's misrule now exist to blacken the character of Madame Roland ; but the advocates of kings and nobles are very unwilling to allow that she had any merit, or deserves any applause. The ultra-royalists are not very partial to Mad- ame de Stael, because she wished to see the poM^er of the monarch restrained by a constitution; and as she disliked jacobinism quite as much as sh€ did tyranny, she pleased neither party, and was accused by both : in addition to this, the Bonapart- ists are quite willing to magnify all the imperfec- tions of a woman, whose very biography must cast a blot on the character of their hero ; they aver that she could not have been a true friend to free- dom, because she was the enemy of him who styled * All who liked a constitutional monarchy, or were early desirous of placing some limit to popular usurpation, were regarded hy Madame Roland, in the warmth of her zeal, as cold and seliish ; her censure and distrust fell upon La Fay- ette as well as upon M. Necker. MADAME ROLAND. 255 himself * the people's king' and ' the pacificator of Ejurope.' Madame de StaeFs appeal in favor of the Queen, and her sympathy with the proscribed nobility, among whom were some of her most intimate friends, has been brought forward as a proof that she was not sincere in her professed love of liberty. I do not pretend to judge of the correctness of her ' political tendencies, — for those who know more than myself might well hesitate to declare what form of government would have been best for France, at that distracted period, '■ — but I am sure that no true republican will like her less for her ready and active compassion : For myself, 1 care little whether she had the wisdom of statesmen in \y her head, so long as she had the kindness of woman in her heart. I respect and admire almost every point in Madame Roland's character. I love her for pre- ferring the beauties of nature, and the quiet happi- ness of domestic life, to all the glittering excitements of society ; I revere the strictness of her moral principles, the purity of her intentions and the perfect rectitude of her conduct ; I admire the vigorous activity of her mind, her unyielding fortitude, and her uniform regard for truth. I warmly sympathize with her enthusiasm for liberty, :^, her hatred of oppression, and her contempt for the insolence of rank — But I confess I am sometimes startled by the fierceness and boldness of her ex- pressions. I would have had her more compassion- ^'^ 256 MADAME ROLAND. ate toward that class of people, whose haughty condescension so well deserved her cool contempt. After all, iron-hearted consistency is a quality diffi- , cult to admire in woman. I might enlarge upon some other points, which qualify my respect for Madame Roland ; but I deem it more useful to ourselves, as well as more charitable to others, to dwell upon virtues to be imitated, rather than upon errors to be avoided. ' The times in which she lived were unnatural — " theories were corrupt — salutary restraints broken down — religion cast away as an idle toy fit only for the superannuated — the whole system of things , was diseased. — At such a crisis, how could ^er- feet examples be expected 1 I have endeavored to be an impartial biographer both to Madame de Stael and Madame Roland. In many respects, Madame de Stael reminds me of the highly gifted Athenian, — fascinating Pericles by her wit and eloquence — discoursing philosophy with Plato — inspired with genius — unable to live without the dangerous excitement of admiration — enjoying triumph — and very vain of her power. The latter presents herself to my mind under the image of a blooming Spartan damsel, — strong, ac- tive, and fearless — ambitious of sharing difficult, and dangerous enterprises — fearing death less than she scorned effeminacy — and boldly contending for the prize amid the warriors in the gymnasium. MADAME ROLAND. 257 DRAUGHT OF A DEFENCE, BY aiADAME ROLAND, IJVTEWDED TO BE READ TO THE TRIBIJTVAL.^ The charge brought against me rests entirely upon the pretended fact of my being the accomplice of men called conspirators. My intimacy with a few of them is of much older date than the politi- cal circumstances, in consequence of which they are now considered as rebels ; and the correspon- dence we kept up through the medium of our com- mon friends, at the time of their departure from Pa- ris, was entirely foreign to public affairs. Properly speaking, I have been engaged in no political corres- pondence whatever, and in that respect I might con- fine myself to a simple denial ; for I certainly cannot be called upon to give an account of my particular affections. But I have a right to be proud of them, as well as of my conduct, nor do I wish to con- ceal anything from the public eye. I shall there- fore acknowledge, that, with expressions of regret at my confinement, I received an intimation that *.Wdtten at the Conciergerie the night after her esami- nation. 17 258 MADAME ROLAND. Duperret had two letters for me, whether written by one or by two of my friends, before or after their leaving Paris, I cannot say. Duperret had delivered them into other hands, and they never came to mine. Another time I received a pressing invitation to break my chains, and an offer of ser- vices, to assist me in effecting my escape, in any way I might think proper, and to convey me whith- ersoever I might afterwards wish to go. I was dissuaded from listening to such proposals by duty and bj honor ; by duty, that I might not endan- ger the safety of those to whose care I was con- fided ; and by honor, because at all events I pre- ferred running the risk of an unjust trial, to exposing myself to the suspicion of gnilt, by a flight unwor- thy of me. When I consented to be taken up on the 31st of May, it was not with the intention of afterwards making my escape. In that alone con- sists all my correspondence with my fugitive friends. No doubt, if all means of communication had not been cut off, or if I had not been prevented by confinement, I should have endeavored to learn what was become of them ; for I know of no law by which my doing so is forbidden. In what agCj or in what nation, was it ever considered a crime to be faithful to those sentiments of esteem and brotherly affection, which bind man to man ? I do not pretend to judge of the measures of those who have been proscribed : they are unknown to me ; but I wdll never believe in the evil intentions of men, of whose probity, civism, and devotion to MADAME ROLAND. 259 their country, I am thoroughly convinced. If they erred, it was unwittingly ; they fall without being abased ; and I regard them as unfortunate, without being liable to blame. I am perfectly easy as to their glory, and willingly consent to participate in the honor of being oppressed by their enemies. I know those men, accused of conspiring against their country, to have been determined republicans, but humane, and persuaded that good laws were necessary to procure the republic the good-will of persons who doubted whether it could be main- tained ; which it must be confessed is more difficult than to kill them. The history of every age proves, that it requires great talents to lead men to virtue by wise institutions, while force suffices to oppress them by terror, or to annihilate them by death. I have heard them assert, that abundance, as well as happiness, can only proceed from an equitable, pro- tecting, and beneficent government ; and that the omnipotence of the bayonet may produce fear, but not bread. I have seen them animated by the most lively enthusiasm for the good of the people, dis- daining to flatter them, and resolved rather to fall victims to their delusion, than be the means of keep- ing it up. I confess these principles, and this con- duct, appeared to me totally different from the sentiments and proceedings of tyrants, or ambitious men, who seek to please the people to effect their subjugation. It inspired me with the highest es- teem for those generous men : this error, if an error it be, will accompany me to the grave, whither I 260 MADAME ROLAND. shall be proud of following those, whom I was not permitted to accompany. My defence, I will venture to say, is more neces- sary to those, who really wish to come at the truth, than it is to myself Calm and contented in the consciousness of having done my duty, I look forward to futurity with perfect peace of mind. My serious turn, and studious habits, have preserv- ed me alike from the follies of dissipation, and from the bustle of intrigue. A friend to liberty, on which reflection had taught me to set a just value, I beheld the revolution with delight, persuaded it was destined to put an end to the arbitrary power I detested, and to the abuses I had so often lamented, when reflecting with pity upon the fate of the indi- gent classes of society. I took an interest in the progress of the revolution, and spoke with warmth of public aff'airs : but I did not pass the bounds prescribed by my sex. Some small talents, a considerable share of philosophy, a degree of courage more uncommon, and which did not per- mit me to weaken my husband's energy in danger- ous times : such perhaps are the qualities, which those who know me may have indiscreetly extolled, and which may have made me enemies among those to whom I am unknown. Roland sometimes employed me as a secretary ; and the famous letter to the king, for instance, is copied entirely in my hand-writing : this would be an excellent item to add to my indictment, if the A ustrians were trying me, and if they should have thought fit to extend a MADAME ROLAND. 261 minister's responsibility to his wife. But Roland long ago manifested his knowledge, and his attach- ment to the great principles of politics : the proofs of them exist in his numerous works, published during the last fifteen years. — His learning and his probity are all his own ; nor did he stand in need of a wife to make him an able minister. Never were conferences or secret councils held at his house ; his colleagues, whoever they might be, and a few friends and acquaintance, met once a week at his table, and there conversed, in a public man- ner, on matters in which every body was concerned. As to the rest, the writings of that minister, which breathe throughout a love of order and of peace, and which lay down in the most forcible manner the best principles of morality and politics, will forever attest his wisdom, as his accounts will prove his in- tegrity. To return to the offence imputed to me, I have to observe that I never was intimate with Duperret. I saw him now and then at the lime of Roland's administration ; but he never came to our house dur- ing the six months that my husband was no longer in office. The same remark will apply to the other members, our friends, which surely does not accord with the plots and conspiracies laid to our charge. It is evident by my first letter to Duperret, T only wrote to him because I knew not to whom else to ad- dress myself, and because I imagined he would read- ily consent to oblige me. My correspondence with him could not then be concerted: it could not 262 MADAME ROLAND. be the consequence of any previous intimacy, and could have only one object in view. It gave me afterwards an opportunity of receiving accounts from those who had just absented themselves, and with whom I was connected by the ties of friend- ship, independently of all political considerations. The latter were totally out of the question in the kind of correspondence I kept up with them during the early part of their absence. No written me- morial bears witness against me in that respect ; those adduced only leading to a belief that I par- took of the opinions and sentiments of the persons called conspirators. This deduction is well found- ed : I confess it without reserve, and am proud of - the conformity. But I never manifested my opin- ions in a way which can be construed into a crime, or which tended to occasion any disturb- ance. Now, to become an accomplice in any plan whatever, it is necessary to give advice, or to fur- nish means of execution. I have done neither ; I am not then reprehensible in the eye of the law — there is no lavv^ to condemn me, nor any fact which admits of the application of a law. I know that in revolutions, law, as well as justice, is often forgotten ; and the proof of it is, that I am here. I owe my trial to nothing but the preju- dices, and violent animosities, which arise in times of great agitation, and which are generally directed against those who have been placed in conspicuous situations, or are known to possess any energy or spirit. It would have been easy for MADAME ROLAND. 263 my courage to put me out of the reach of the sen- tence I foresaw ; but I thought it rather became me to undergo it ; I thought that I owed the exam- ple to my country ; I thought that if I were to be condemned, it must be right to leave tyranny all the odium of sacrificing a woman, whose crime is that of possessing some small talent, which she never misapplied, a zealous desire of the welfare of mankind, and courage enough to acknowledge her unfortunate friends, and to do homage to virtue at the risk of her life. Minds, which have any claim to greatness, are capable of divesting themselves of selfish considerations ; they feel they belong to the whole human race ; and their views are directed to posterity alone. I am the wife of a virtuous man, exposed to persecution; and I was the friend of men, who have been proscribed and immolated. by delusion, and the hatred of jealous mediocrity. It is necessary that I should perish in my turn, be- cause it is a rule with tyranny to sacrifice those whom it has grievously oppressed, and to annihilate the very witnesses of its misdeeds. I have this double claim to death from your hands, and I ex- pect it. When innocence walks to the scaffold, at the command of error and perversity, every step she takes is an advance towards glory. May I be the last victim sacrificed to the furious spirit of party ! I shall quit with joy this unfortunate earth, which swallows up the friends of virtue, and drinks the blood of the just. 264 MADAME ROLAND. Truth ! friendship ! my country ! sacred objects, sentiments dear to my heart, accept my last sacri- fice. My life was devoted to you, and you will ren- der my death easy and glorious. Just heaven ! enlighten this unfortunate people for whom I desired liberty Liberty ! — It is for noble minds, who despise death, and who know how, upon occasion, to give it to themselves. It is not for weak beings, who enter into a compo- sition with guilt, and cover selfishness and coward- ice with the name of prudence. It is not for corrupt wretches, who rise from the bed of debauch- ery, or from the mire of indigence, to feast their eyes on the blood that streams from the scaffold. It is the portion of a people, who delight in humani- ty, practise justice, despise their flatterers, and resi)ect the truth. While you are not such a peo- ple, O my fellow-citizens ! you will talk in vain of liberty : instead of liberty you will have licentious- ness, of which you will all fall victims in your turns : you will ask for bread ; dead bodies will be given you ; and you will at last bow down your necks to the yoke. I have neither concealed my sentiments nor my opinions. I know that a Roman lady was sent to the scaffold for lamenting the death of her son. I know that in times of delusion and party rage, he who dares avow himself the friend of the condemn- ed, or of the proscribed, exposes himself to their fate. But I despise death ; I never feared anything but guilt, and I will not purchase life at the expense MADAME ROLAND. 265 of a base subterfuge. Wo to the times ! wo to the people among whom doing homage to disre- garded truth can be attended with danger, — and happy he, who in such circumstances is bold enough brave it ! It is now your part to see whether it answer your purpose to condemn me without proof, upon mere matter of opinion, and without the support or justification of any law. NOTE LIST OF WORKS REFERRED TO, Roland's Appeal to Posterity, Kotzebue's Travels. La Biographie Universelle. Critical Review. Lady's Museum. ERRATUM. Ou page 212, for ' stepping out of the spacious dining-room which the elegant Calonne had fitted up for Madame Necker,' read merely, ' stepping out of the Bpacious dining room which the elegant Calonne had fitted up.' I^ik <^w 'j: Deacidified using the Bookkeeper procesE Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide Treatment Date: ^p^^ r^ PreservationTechnologie; A WORLD LEADER IN PAPER PRESERVATIOf 111 Thomson Park Drive r.ranhprrv Tnwnshin. PA 160 - ■i>. ^ T> ^ ^^ A- ^ -^^ ^^4i^"; ^c. ^. ^^..^^ ^ ^ ■^ V" :%,. ^-^ ^^^^^; -0^ ^:^^y. v^^ c^. > A '•^v> .^•^' "^ - v^^ ^*i. \% >'•%/ P -^^ V .* ..^ X- v a\^ ^^ A'' ^^V' ^^ ^'^- ,^^ -c.. <^r S' '^^ A^ -r- ^