ADDITIONAL
lMEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH,
BY
A. DE  LAMARTINE,
AUTHOR OF
*1PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE OF THE REPUBLIC," "MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH," "RAPHAEL"
"THE HISTORY OF THE GIRONDISTS," &c., &c.
NEW  YORK:
HARPER & ]BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,
8 2;QI.FF iF F  i ST.








ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.
PREAMBLE.
M. GIRARDIN,                            sacrifice was useless. It was in vain that I
WHEN, my dear Girardin, I address to you published these fragments of my holiest rememthe third volume of the'ptes and confessions, brances: the time purchased by what was paid
which the public have been pleased to call Con- for them did not suffice to provide for me until
fidences, I can not but feel distressed. What I I had reached the threshold of that door where
had foreseen has been realized. When I ex- all sorrows are forgotten. My home is about
posed my life, I had ceased to think of it. This to be sold, and I have not even the satisfaction
journal has been received with favor, with in- of having saved my garden.  Strange footsteps
dulgeane, and even with interest, and, if I may will efface those of my father and mother.
believe the nameless strangers who have writ- God is God, and sometimes HE ordains that the
ten to me, has been approved even by critics. wind shall tear up the oak a hundred years old,
The stern and rude critics, however-the men and sometimes man is required to dig out his
who will not yield until we weep-who find in own heart.  We must yield to Him, and above
our ink the materiel of the bitterness of their all things attribute to Him prayer and benesarcasm, never forgave the open-heartedness of diction.
a soul of twenty years-they have, or have pre-   Now that the critics have finished talking
tended to have believed, that I sought only to about me, and that I acknowledge my crime
find miserable celebrity in the ashes of my own and distress, may. I make any excuse to indulheart: they have said that, by an anticipation  gent and impartial readers?
of vanity, I wished to enjoy, and, while I was    To ascertain this I have but One question to
living, gather the sad flowers which would grow  propound to you and to the public, which has
above my own tomb.  They cried out that my deigned to look over these Confessions.  This
interior sentiment was a profanation; they pro- is the question:
tested against the unvailing of a soul-at all   Have the pages I have published injured me
confidences being made known; they prated or others in the minds of those who have read
about venality in relation to holy things, and them?  Is there a man alive, in the recollection
about poetic simony, saying that I sold the very  of whom a single suspicion, even an unfavorable
soul to save the roof which sheltered my cradle. idea. injurious either to himself,' his family, or
I read and heard in silence all the comments on his tomb, has been created by these Confessions?
this matter, about which you had been informed  Perhaps my mother's heart, in heaven, became
long before the public. I said nothing.  What saddened-my father's manly soul lost respect
could I say?  Appearances were against me. in the minds of his descendats! Has Graziella,
You alone were aware that these notes had  the precocious flower, dried up by her own youth,
long been in existence, shut up in my rosewood received aught but a few tears from the young
desk with the ten volumes of my mother's diary, girls of Portici?  Has Julie, the worship of my
that they were never intended to be published, young enthusiasm, lost any thing in the mind of
and that I had bitterly protested against the those who know her name?  Is she not pure
very idea of publication-that I had refused a to them as she is to my own heart?  Have my
king's ransom for these scraps, which had no teachers, the pious Jesuits of Belley, the name
real value, and that once-and for that I shall of whom I do not love, but the virtue of whom
never forgive myself-under the influence of I venerate; have the earliest friends I harthe fatal necessity of parting with my poor vested, Virieu, Vignet, the Abbe Dumont, any
household, which was so dear to me, and holier reason to complain?  If they were to return to
thanr my Confessions, I preferred to publish these earth again, would they say I 1i  misrepreConfessions rather than to distress old and faith- sented their noble natures, discolored their
ful servants, by selling their homes and vine- features, or misplaced them in life?  I appeal
yards. With one hand I received the price of to my readers: would one single shade of all
the Confessions, and with the other paid it out those departed ones call on me to efface a sinto buy a little time.                       gle line? Many of those of whom I have spoken
That is the crime I expiate.              yet live, or have sisters and children alive —
Well, let critics rejoice even to satiety. This have I humiliated any of them?  Had I done




iv                                  PREAMBLE.
so, I should have learned it from them. This from door to door the story of which, not unis not the case. I have embalmed only pure frequently, the actors and historians are one
memories.  The pall in which I wrapped them  and the sanme?  Does the character of a thought
was humble, but it was pure.  The modest make it a crime for us to publish it?-a vulgar,
names I gave them  were neither sullied nor critical, skeptical dogma will do no injury when
dishonored.  No love can make any charge announced distinctly, in your opinion: a low,
against me: no family can charge me with cold thought, without intimacy, that is to say,
having profaned its name.  Memory is a holy to which your own heart can make no palpitathing, because it is mute, and must be touched tion, which has no echo in the breasts of other
ever with piety. I should never have consoled men, will in its revelation violate no modesty;
myself if, in this life, I had uttered about that a pious, ardent idea, kindled at the hearth of
other existence, which can make no reply, one the heart or heaven; a bu::iing sentiment ejectword derogatory to those absent ones we call ed by the explosion of the volcano of the soul;
the Manes. I would even be unwilling that a an utterance made by the awakening soul, its
careless word, inimical to any thing, should re- tones of distress and truth; the accent of other
main to attack any of those who some day may cries in which our own time and futurity symbe remembered when I am forgotten. Posterity pathize; a tear, especially a tear not glorified
is not the sewer of our passions, but the urn of like those falling on your palls of parade, a
our memories: it should preserve only per- briny instead of an inky tear, is a crime, a disfumes.                                      grace, an impropriety in your opinion.  The
My Confidences have therefore given no one meaning of this is that, what is cold and artitrouble, and injured no one, either living or ficial is innocent in the artist, but that feeling
dead-I am wrong: they have injured me, but and warmth are unpardonable in the man. The
me alone-I described myself as I was: one of meaning of this is, that an author's modesty
those persons so common among the children consists in unvailing the false, not at all in
of women, formed not from one clay, hardened exhibiting the real.  Show me your mind, if
and purified like the stuffs of which heroes are you have any, but dare not to attract my soul
formed, like the material of saints and sages, to your own, that is unworthy and criminal.
but of the rude fragments which enter into the   But say you, "though in the main you are
composition of weak and passionate man; with right, you do not know how to express yourself.
high aspirations and feeble wings, vast desires It is true there are mysteries, nudities, parts of
eand little capacity to reach the point to which the soul which, though not disgraceful, are delithey seek to soar. I had a mixture of the sub- cate and sensitive.  There are profundities, perlime ideal and vulgar real, of a burning heart, sonalities, and folds of sentiment and thought, the
of mental delusions and tears; human statues unfolding of which would be horribly painful.
attesting, by the very diversity of the elements of An honest and natural conscientiousness would
which they are composed, the mysterious weak- not permit us to unvail them without a feeling of
nesses of our poor nature, and in which are violated modesty."  There is, I agree with you,
found, as in the metal of Corinth after its con- an indiscretion of the heart; I have cruelly exflagration, traces of all the liquefied metals which perienced its existence myself. When, for the
were there hardened and confounded-little gold first time, I wrote some poetical dreams, some
and much lead. I, however, repeat I have in- too full exhibitions of my sentiments, I read
jured no one but myself.                    them to my truest friends, yet my brow was
But, said they, the nudities stripped of senti- suffused with blushes and I could not conclude
ment and life offend that virginal purity of heart them.  I said, "No, I can go no farther.
of which bodily purity is only an emblem in the You must read that."  "What," said they,
human mind.  You exhibit yourself without a " are you afraid to read what you are about
vail, yet you do not blush-who are you?    to publish to all Europe?"  " No," said I, " I
Alas! I am  like yourself, a poor writer- can not explain myself. I am not ashamed to
that is to say, one who thinks for the public-  let the public read this, but I feel an invincible
I am what-except in genius and virtue-were repugnance to reading it to only two or three
Saint Augustine, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Cha- friends."
teaubriand, and the countless men who have   They did not understand me, nor did I know
silently examined their own hearts and proudly what I meant. We discussed the matter toreplied, that their dialogue with themselves was gether, and the real theme of our talk was the
interesting to their century.               whimsicality of the human heart. Since then I
The human heart is one instrument, but yet have always experienced the same repugnance
every heart has not the same chords; and to at reading to a single person what I had no inall eternity new notes will be discovered, a disposition any one person should read-and
means of the constant increase of the thoughts what it required no effort to publish and submi
and canticles of creation.  Whether we wish to the world-after much thought I came to the
or not, it is our duty, poets br prose-writers as conclusion that this apparent repugrance was
we may be, to originate new rhapsodies in the in reality a perfectly logical part of our nagreat song of man in praise of God. Why ture.
then accuse me and accuse yourself? are we   Why is this so?  A friend is some one, but
not of the great family of Homerides, singing the public is no one-a friend has a face, the




PREAMBLE.                                         v
public has not-a friend is a being before us, reading a letter not directed to him. You have
the public is invisible, a creation of our thought a personality, and are not the public. What
-a friend has a name and the public is anony- have you to do with me?  I did not speak to
mous-a friend is our confidant and the public you, who have nothing to say to me, and I nothis a fiction-I blush before one, because he is ing to answer to you.
human; I do not before the other, because it is   Thus thought Saint Augustine, Plato, Socrates,
ideal-when I speak and write to the public, I Cicerp, Bernardin de Saint Pierre, Montaigne,
feel myself as free from all human susceptibili- Alfieri, Chateaubriand, and all the great men
ties as if I spoke and wrote in the presence of who have confided to the world the palpitations
God, or in the desert.  The world of man is a of their own hearts.  Real gladiators of the
desert: we see it, and are aware of its exist- human Colosseum, who do not appear in the
ence, but know it only in the mass. As an in- contemptible comedies of sentiment and style,
dividual it does not exist. This shamefacedness fit only to amuse the academy, they strove and
of which you speak, being self-respect in the died really on the stage of the world, and wrote
presence of another, from the moment no one on the sand, with the blood of their own veins,
exists separate from the multitude, where is the their names and the faults and agonies of the
motive for it?  Psyche blushed when the god human heart.
advanced with a lamp to examine her beauti-   Having said this, I take up these notes as I
ful person, but if his thousand rays were con- find them, and I blush at but one thing in the
centrated on her from the top of Olympus, this presence of critics. That is, that I have neither
personification of female beauty would not blush the soul of Saint Augustine, nor the genius of
in the presence of all heaven. This is a perfect Jean-Jacques Rousseau to merit, by such holy
image of an author's modesty in the presence of and touching indiscretions, the forgiveness of all
a single hearer, and of his freedom before all tender souls, and the condemnation of the prudthe world. You accuse me of unvailing a mys- ish minds, which take every expression of the
tery before you; you have no right to do so. I soul to be an obscenity, and vail the face when
do not know you. I have personally confided the heart is mentioned.
nothing to you, and you are like a rude person                  A. DE LAMARTINE.








BOOK I.
JI~~~.           1 to languish and fold my wings in the nest whence
I was anxious ever to escape.
~* ^ *c    *~ *~  *    *~      * On this occasion I was so crushed by grief,
WHEN this first passion of my life had thus that I experienced a kind of fatal resignation to
evaporated, and left only the dazzling effect of the idea of entering and never again leaving
a vision and a species of worship, I wandered the house in which I was born, and in which I
for a long time like a blind man who has lost hoped to die. I was satisfied that my heart
sight of heaven, and has no care on earth. The had exhausted in these fifteen months of love,
greater portion of this time I passed in Switzer- delirium, and sorrow, all the pleasure and grief
land, on the lakes of Geneva, Thoun, and Neuf- of a long life; and that I had nothing more to
chatel, in bad health and solitary, lingering do than to merge for months in the ashes of my
nowhere longer than a week.  My mother, heart recollections of Julie, and that the angel
who was aware of the cause of my chagrin, whom  my thoughts had followed to another
sent me from time to time a little sum, un- world, would soon call me to her to shorten our
known to her family, from the money allowed separation, and commence an existence of endher for domestic expenses. She was aware less love. The certainty consoled me, and made
that grief evaporates only in the pure air, and me bear with patience and indifference the short
that mental fevers are like those of the body, interval between her departure and our meeting
only cured by a constant change of place. She again. Why, said I to myself, should I comwas afraid of monotony, and of that uniformity mence what must be so speedily interrupted?
of scene and idleness, which was more annoying What differs it whether I drag out here or else
than the grief of home, and my life at Macon. where the last hours of a life, which was ex
In the interim, autumn was approaching, and tinguished in her tomb, and never can be re
she did not know how to explain my absence kindled?
in the eyes of my father and uncles. It was
necessary that I should return.                                   III.
With these thoughts of discouraged, yet con
II                      tented satisfaction, I approached Macon.  1
I returned by way of Lyons. I embarked on soon saw the high, truncated towers of its old
board one of the bo.ts which at that time made cathedral, painting themselves on the vault of
the ascent and descent of the Saone, and were heaven, and the thirteen regular arches of the
dragged, like sleighs on the surface of the water, Roman bridge reaching across the river like a
by horses galloping across the plains which caravan, fording it with unequal distances bebordered it.                                  tween the several spans. The bell of the boat
Extended on the deck, between bales and called on the passengers to go on or from the
valises, I looked at the top of the mast, which deck. On the quai idlers were seen to glance
marked the undulations on the sky, like a black over the parapet for a moment to see the boat
needle advancing by an insensible movement pass through the narrow and foaming span of
over the chart of my life. From time to time I the arch, and also a few groups of relations
was aroused by the hoarse voice of the master and friends who hurried to the bank to meet
of the boat, as he called out the names of little and to embrace the passengers a moment or
villages on the bank, and asked the travelers if two sooner, as they stepped from the platform on
any of them wished to disembark. I recognized shore.
the names, so familiar to my ear, of the charm-   Salutations were given and received, as they
ing villages on the Saone, the river on the banks who landed, and those who had come to meet
of which I was born. I saw the islands over- them, moved on with the heart, gesture, and
grown with willows and rushes, and herds of voice, from the very foot of the mast to the top
cattle swimming to them to feed on their long  of the quai. It might be seen by the ray of joy
grass, showing only their white muzzles and which lit up the face, by the impatience of the
black faces above the water; the beautiful mount- gait, by the moistened eye, what was the deains of Beaujolais and Maconnais, which in the gree of intimacy, relationship, or love, which
rays of the setting sun, seemed blue as the united hearts still separated by some short waves.
waves, and to move like a sea, the bank of I looked in the groups on the quai for some face
which was concealed by the swell. On the I knew, but in vain. No one expected me at
right I saw the green meadows of Bresse, strewn any given time. At last just as I,.with my
over with white flocks, and terminating in a valise under my arm, was about to land, I felt
fog, which gives them the effect of a Hollandish my legs embraced, by the paws and caresses
landscape, or Chinese horizon, unbounded except of a dog, who, like that of Ulysses, had in the
by thought.                                   distance felt and become aware of nay coming,
These prospects, which in my childhood I had and devoured me amid the indifference of others.
seen so often again and again, weighed heavily    I recognized my father's old pet, a setter
on my heart, and awoke in me a sensation of named Azor, who had for fourteen years been a
great ennui. I was born for action, and destiny member of the family, and who had met me on
has ever dragged me back, in spite of myself, my return from college. It was the same awi



ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.
who seven years before had rescued me ed with pearly teeth, regular, sound, and white
the annoyance of my Ossianic conversation until the very day of his death. His lips turned
Lucy. I kissed him, and gave him one of down almost at a right-angle, and gave him an
straps of my valise, to keep him from run- expression of intrepidity when they were closed,
- between the legs of the travelers. As and had an exquisite and graceful expression;or was there, my father could not be far away. when they relaxed into a smile. His chin seems soon as we were on shore, the dog pointed ed supported by firm muscles. His cheek was
at his locality to me, leading me by the strap rather thin than full, and seemed composed of
o a shady walk overhung by lindens, and fibres covered with an epidermis, colored with
strewn with stone benches, not far from the generous and boiling blood. The shape of his
place of debarkation. It was my father's wont face was neither oval nor round, but almost
to come thither at all risk when the boats passed square, like the warlike races of the Jura.
the city. He had called my name two or three His eyes were of a chqgeable-olor, and brilltimes to Azor, pointing out the quai. The iant; they were shaded; by thiS heavy brows,
faithful servant had understood him, and accom- with a tendency to meet averbhis nose whenever
plished his mission. He led me home.        the forehead was corrugated hand-hen formed a
My father at that time was but sixty-two or thick, dark arch across hiswhOl4face. He had,
three years old, and appeared in all the glory in fact, the noble ideal of the'hhad of a soldier,
and majesty of life. He rose from his bench apparently modeled by nature-or habit-for milil
when he heard the merry barking of Azor. He tary command.
was nearsighted, and with his glass to his eye,   This habit of command was revealed lyevry
looked toward the quai —to see if the dog was attitude. He bore his head erect, heliAlffidfll
bringing him back his son. I hurried to him, in a person's face, and saluted with    i
and fell in his arms. As he embraced me, his without pride. His limbs were soupi
voice was somewhat moved, and his eyes moist, firm, slow, and regular, as if wliea   iwlt e
but there was a manly firmness even in his ten- the drum and trumpet, yet modulated'e ^toim
derness. He wore his old uniform of captain of and distance of his steps. His clothes f bluhe;
cavalry, and would have fancied himself degrad- and of severe type, never exhibited any luxury.
ed by confessing any feminine emotion. He was He wore no brilliant colors, there was no abanoneof those men possessed of a human respect for don, no negligence in the folds. He showed
their own powers, who distrust their own virtues, every where the punctuality of the uniform.
and who, while they repress the exterior signs His buckled shoes were not heavy enough for
of their sensibility, preserve it in virginal purity his feet, and by his walk it might be seen that
until their old age.                        he still fancied he had to lift up the heavy horseThis habitof his stern and austere nature man's boots he had worn so long; and that he
always created a kind of coldness between him  missed the troop-horse. A soldier and a horse
nd myself, which might lead to error in a never passed that he did not pause, and with his
cursory examination.  We loved each other glass look at the animal and the man.
severely, as men should love; he with dignity,   Camps to him were a country, discipline a
and I with respect. The father should always virtue. The sword, the horse, the saddle, the
be the father, and the son the son. His tender- uniform, were perpetual objects of his ambition,
ness was hidden behind authority, and the dis- his recollection, and his contemplation.  He
tance which must ever intervene between the pitied without despising all other professions of
time which passed before I became a young human life. All trades the object of which is
man, and he an old one. Our roles then changed; gain alone seemed vile, and he considered one
he suffered himself to be loved, and I loved alone led to honor, that which required blood to
him. Between us there was little display of be shed for one's king and country. There was
sensibility.                                nothing, it seemed to him, between the soldier
IV.                     and the peasant. The rest of the world he regarded as the noble Poles do the Jews on their
I looked at him as I walked on, a little behind estates, as a nomade, usurious, and mercantile
him, from fear and respect. My father was then class between the people and themselves. He
in full manhood; though tall, I was a little lower was the beau-ideal of the country-gentleman,
than he.                                    the father of his family, a sportsman, agriculNothing of his stature had yielded, nor did it, turist, and friend of the people, as he had been
until he was eighty-seven years old. He bore of the soldier. Such was my father's exterior.
his years as a sturdy oak of our mountains bears
its countless leaves, which decorate, but never                  V.
bend it; or rather, his years guided him straight   His regiment, for many of his comrades lived
and firm toward the destination given him by in the city, and the people in good society,
his God. His face, though without that delicate called him Le Chevalier Lamartine. The rest
beauty of feature and expression of detail, which of the world knew him as Monsieur de Prat.
characterizes the human countenance, had that That was the name of a family estate in
massive beauty, inducing one to pause and say, Franche-comte, the designation of which my
" There is a noble type of humanity, there is a grandfather had conferred on my father to disbody worthy of a divine soul, and fit to be called tinguish him from his brothers.  My mother
a temple of God."                           was never called any thing but Madame de Prat,
The brow was not elevated enough to permit and I bore that name in my childhood, until the
the imagination to have a very exalted flight. death of my eldest uncle, to whom alone beIt was large, straight, and well defined, as those longed the family name.
of the Romans of the Scipios' days. The nose   When my father brought me home from the
was small and regular, the mouth open and fill- boat, with a kind of pride of paternal affection,




ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.                                       9
he went through the longest and most crowded did not satisfy her. She wanted also to make
streets of Macon.                            them happy.
It was the hour of the day when people of   My father understood this, and though with
leisure went out after dinner at sunset, to breathe regret and with great econoiy, he resolved to
the freshness of the air from the river as they leave his vineyards, his dogs, and his game of
walked along the quai, or sate under the trees piquet, at night with the curate and his neighon the river bank. Here and there he met some bor, atd-to fix himself at Macon, at least for the
of his old regimental friends, or relations, and spring and winter of every year.
city acquaintances.  They stopped him, and he   He was, like every new proprietor, proud of the
introduced me. He seemed proud of the atten- house he had bought. Scarcely had I entered
tion I excited as I passed the doors of the houses it, than he took me from the garret to the cellar
and shops. He was glad that his son-returned and explained to me all its advantages.
from his travels, tall as   \ hwas, and rather pale   The house yet exists-but since my father's
-attracted so much attention by his appear- death and the dispersion of the family, no longer
anc, his resemblance to my mother, and that ours. It was in the upper portion of the city which
melancly expression, which gives a 4iud of I have described in the commencement of this
mysterjOb the face. He was evidently flattered. story. Before the Revolution, it had belonged
Unknkwn' to me, he loitered, and sought to to a patrician family of the Maconnais, with
meet as many people as possible. He prolonged which we had been very intimate. The name
his conversations. In the windows we passed I of the family was d'Osenay.
heard the people say, "Here is the Chevalier   Its main facade was toward a steep street, at
Lamartine and his son. Come, look!"  I bore the base of which were a number of trees, reachall this parade, and all their salutations, from  ing from the great square of the hospital on which
respect to my father. I burned, however, with were generally to be seen the children of the city,
anxiety to be at home.                        their nurses, and the old men of the better class..At last we reached home; the dog having A lintel of black marble wonderfully carved, anpreceded, and announced me by his jumps and nounced a sentiment of art and architectural
barking. As I entered the door I was clasped luxury. This door opened into a large vestibule,
in the arms of my mother and my two sisters. deep, dark, damp, and gloomy. At the end of
She could not but grow pale and shudder when the vestibule were seen the first steps of a stairshe saw how much anguish and my long suffer- way, lighted up by a light which shone from
ings had made my face and features thin. My above, like that which illumines the convent of
father had remarked only the well-developed GRANET, the painter of interiors.  On the right
form of my early manhood. My mother, at a and left of the vestibule were four doors, opening
glance, had read my very heart. The eye of into store-rooms, wood-halls, kitchens, and vast
woman is clear-sighted, and penetrates the cellars, beneath which yet were caves, wells,
depths of the soul of him, on whom it is fixed and vast fire-places for domestic purposes, but
only for a second. What must, therefore, be its were only lighted by basement windows half on
power when the object is a son, a very ray of a level with the ground.
their souls?                                   The stairway of yellow stone, had evidently:~<^~~~~~ ~~been built by an old man. So slight were the
VI.                      steps and so gentle the inclination, that I used to
spring up them four or five at a time. They
While I had been absent a change had taken were like the scarcely perceptible ladders of
place in the habits of the family. My father, at the Vatican and Quirinal of Rome which seem
the solicitation of my mother, had from his sav- to regulate their marble ascent by the power of
ings contrived to purchase a house in Macon, the old and aristocratic. After having ascended,
where he passed half of his time. My sisters a half flight of these steps, one stood in front of
had reached the age, when it was necessary for a large window and a yet larger door opening
them to receive lessons from teachers of both into a court-garden. This restricted garden was
sexes, in the accomplishments and arts of pleas- inclosed by a curtain of rose bushes and apricot
ing, which are necessary to women of a certain trees growing on espaliers. In the centre was
class, the lives of whom  otherwise would be an arbutus tree surrounded by a white thorn,
one series of idle hours. The time was come which from age and cultivation had grown to
when they should be introduced into what is look like a forest-tree. Little pathways, borcalled society; a system of mutual contributions, dered by bushes and shrubs of every kind, surwhere the new-comers are themes of care and rounded and penetrated each portion of the ga'attention, and where relationship, family, habits den. The extremity of the garden was decorated
of life, and neighborhood association, are re- with frames and trellices of wood amid which my
marked until fortune or casualty involves a dis- sisters induced their doves to build, and by a little
position of their future life.               fountain which played into a marble basin, and a
Beautiful and modest, yet from  their small statue of Love, the dolphin of which poured forth
fortunes unable to attract from the distance de- nothing but dust. and no other foam than spiders'
sirable husbands, my mother thought justly webs. Above the garden-walls were seen only
enough that young men of their own rank the red tiles and the iron grated roofs of some
would not seek them  out in the solitudes of houses inhabited by artisans and a convent of old
Milly. She was unwilling that they should nuns. This monastic aspect of the garden, though
bloom and decay, without displaying the chaste open to the sun gave it all the silent character
charms of their beauty to some one. She thought of a Spanish cloister.
that maternal duty required her to seek out                       VII
suitable matches for her daughters. To eduoate them in the way of life, religion, and virtue,   On my return from the garden and on going




10                ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.
up the new stair-way, I found myself on the tered without a religious admiration and a kind
great landing-place of the first story. Three of cold shudder. My mother had sanctified the
great folding doors with high entablements were whole room by a prie-Dieu of dark wood, and an
there, two of which opened to the right and left, ivory Christ, which glittered in a recess from
opposite to each other.                      which the sun was always shut out. There
Through the first there was an entrance into was also a beautiful oval picture of the Virgin
a large passage with carved pannels, painted in presenting the child Jesus to his cousin, painted
water colors. This was the great entry of the by Coypel, and copied in paste by one of her
house, the ante-chamber of the saloon, the draw- sisters, Madame de Vaux.
ing-room, the school-room  for the drawing,   Behind this cabinet were two or three small
music, and dancing masters of my sisters, and rooms, with several beds, for my sisters.
the work-room in which the house-maids did up   My father having shown me through all these
their washing. The furniture consisted of a great rooms, took me into the second story. It was
stove, in a recess, an oval table for meals, dressing composed of large empty rooms, perfect repetitables, buffets, a piano, two harps, and consoles tions of those below. He then opened that desfor writing, drawing, and sewing. A clock of tined for myself. It was above his own, and
boule, in an ebony case, with shells of arabesque, was lighted by two windows opening on the
surmounted with a statuette of Time brandishing garden. An alcove for my bed, a cabinet for
his scythe, struck also in the room the melan- study opposite to the hall of the Muses,'a good
choly notations of the hours, which youth never light, the silence of the garden, a large arc of
listens to.                                  the horizon in the distance-for I was a little
Through the next door one passed into a room  above the roofs of the convent-made this chamlarger and more carefully decorated. An old ber of my youth a solitude at once secluded and
and high chimney of marble richly carved by select. By way of decoration or ornament, there
the sculptor's chisels, the base of which was were only two panels carved in biscuit above the
expanded in acanthus leaves, and gave access door. One of them represented young girls lookto a fire-place large and ample enough to ad- ing at each other in the mirror of a fountain, and
mit a whole trunk of an oak. My father's arm- decking themselves with the flowers which grew
chair stood opposite the chimney; there were on its brink. The other represented young boys
other chairs covered with red Utrecht velvet, a toying with animals, and contending with-a goat
large round table stre wn with books, a few  they had bound by the horns.
stools covered with green velvet, large red stools   Durng the many lovely hours I passedin this
with waxed feet, a ceiling richly gilt, but black- room, I had time to study out the ideas which
ened by the smoke of half a century, green cur- the architect had intended to express by these
tains at the two windows opening on the street, two ovals. It was evidently the room intended
were the only ornaments of the saloon. Fire for children, the gyneceumn of the family, which
was never kindled there until just before the had first occupied it.  I thanked my father,
family sate down to dinner, which was prepared whom I had never seen so kind and sociable,
at two o'clock. The room opposite that was the and took possession of the room which he had
one occupied by a rich aunt, a sister of my father, caused to be prepared for me. After supper I
of whom I shall speak by-and-by. She was called went to see the other members of the family,
Mademoiselle de Monceau.                     who received me with more coldness. I reOn returning to the landing-place of the first turned and sank to sleep, dreaming of the sad
floor we turned to the left into my father's room. mischance which had brought me back to MaIt was a vast apartment, darkened, however, by con, to look into the hollowness of my own heart
the black walls of a convent, which overhung and to contemplate the inactivity of my life.
the garden, and shut out the sky. On the right,   A tender and gentle voice awoke me just as
from the still larger room of my mother, one a ray of the morning sun slid over the convent
descended by three steps to a glazed door which roof, into the room in which, as I said, my beC
opened into the garden. The sun shone into it had been placed.
from morning to night. A wing added to this
side of the house bore the poetical appellation                  VIII.
of the Cabinet of the Muses. In it my mother   I turned on my elbow, and saw my mother
used to write, and it was an oratory in which draw near to and sit on a chair by my bedside.
her daughters said their prayers with her, when She wore a long dressing-gown of brown silk,
she wished for a moment to separate herself and reaching to her neck, and fastened around the
them from the constant distractions of a young waist by a cordon of plaited silk of the same
and numerous family, and more numerous rela- color, the tags of which reached almost to her
tionship.                                    feet.
The wood-work of this cabinet was carved   Her long black hair, in which scarcely more
from the ceiling down, and formed ten niches, than a half-dozen' white threads were visible,
in each of which was a console. On each of floated over her shoulders. They were the few
these stood a statuette of one of the nine Muses, tresses which had escaped from confinement as
with mythological attributes. The tenth con- she lay on her pillow, and yet preserved the imtained a wooden statue of Apollo. Above the pression of its plaits. Her eyes seemed wearied
door, elegantly carved, was a representation of out by want of sleep, and her cheeks, naturally
Jupiter descending from heaven and opening the pale, had that feverish discoloration which
curtains of Danae, who lay terrified at his thun- rushes from a disturbed soul to the very surder. Every figure was thickly covered with oil face, at the approach of any trouble or emotion.
painting, and the light gray varnish gave them  Her lips she sought to make smiling, that my
an appearance of coldness and deathwhich chilled awaking might not receive the impress of sorthe imagination. My young sisters never en- row) yet a visible contest, reaching almost to




ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.                                      11
sorrow, hovered about her lips. Her words, al- have not been granted," added she, ceasing to
ways sonorous and vibratory, like the chords of speak of God, and turning her head aside with a
the heart, had a brief, broken rhythm, somewhat motion which for the first time in my life I had
out of tone, only natural to her in the keen ago- ever seen, a kind of revolt of resignation.
ny of sufferings greater than her resignation.   "Oh, no: vainly did I pray, and rise before
She passed her right hand through my hair, day to visit the church, that I might be present
kissed me on the forehead, on which I felt the at the altar with the servants before the work
cold drop of a tear fall. She spoke to me thus: was begun, at that sacrifice which seems the
most efficacious because it is the first and the
~I'~x~.            one most wrapped in darkness. ~ I have obtained'You have, then, returned, my poor boy." nothing; I will not, however, weary, but like
She then kissed me again, and resumed, " You Saint Monica who prayed in spite of her prayers
have returned. You know my happiness con- not being granted, yet did not become impatient
sists in having you with us; yet, though I love at thy slowness.  Finally she obtained what
you more than I do myself, I can not conceal she asked for, a saint instead of a son, a guide
that I am sorry to see you again at home-I am  instead of a disciple, a child of God instead of
terrified-what will you become here? Alas!" one from her womb."
said she, "how have you returned to us?  How    She paused for a moment as if to pray in silence.
pale you are! How sad you seem! and what dis- I saw this was the case by the quivering of her
satisfaction with life and youth did I see yester- lips, the droopng of her long roseate eyelids. I
day on your features! who would have said that was overcome, calmed, and resigned beforehand
I should see my child at the age of twenty-two to what I foresaw she was about to say.
so withered in the sap of his heart, and with his   "On your very arrival, my child," said she,
face overclouded with I know not what grief!" " and for this purpose, contrary to my inclination,
When I heard these words I sprang up with I have cut short the sleep which you needed so
a bound, as if I thought my mother had been much yesterday, you must know what you are
wanting in regard for that sorrow which I re- to expect here in the family, that you may subspected a thousand times more than I respected mit to fortune; that you may prepare to bear
myself.                                       much, to suffer much; to languish; and that you
"For Heaven's sake," said I, clasping my may not by contention alienate your father's
hands, and in a tone of the deepest supplication, heart which also suffers, though he would not con" do not speak with disdain of a sorrow, the fess it, and those of the other members of the famcause of which you never knew, and which will ily on which, cold as they are, we do and must for
eternally bend my heart before a holy remem- the future depend. This is the situation of things:
brance. Were you aware-?"                       " Our restricted fortune has been yet more con" I wish to know nothing," said she, placing tracted by your education, your travels, and your
her beautiful hand over my lips. "I know that errors. I do not reproach you with them. You
she has deprived me of my son, and that God know if my tears were golden, they would fall
has borne her away from a love which could not only in your hands. The purchase of this house,
be blessed by me, since it could not be sanctified indispensable to the education and marriage of
by Him. I pity her; I pity you; I pardon and your sisters; the saving of the little marriage
pray for her, though unknown. I love her in portions we must lay up in advance for them one
God and in yourself. I will never speak of her; after the other; and the unproductiveness of the
there are things of which a mother should be vineyard, which for the last few years has not met
ignorant, being unable to approve of them in our expectations, have forced your father to lessher conscience, nor expel them from the heart en his expenses. His life is painful. These menof her son, lest it should grow chill and hardened tal torments, this forced economy, have altered the
toward her. Let us speak of it no more-let us serenity and grace of his character. He is afraid
never mention it."                           that the children to whom he is so devoted will
This tender respect for my feelings, which be without fortune. He sometimes thinks this
sacrificed neither her maternal dignity nor con- numerous family, in which he took so much pride
science, touched me, and I kissed her hand. She when they were young, a reproach. I am obliged
continued, with more freedom and openness. One constantly to remind him of that divine providence
might see, in the fullness of her voice, that hence- which prepares seed for every insect, and berries
forth the delicate subject was laid aside, and that for every nest.
she suffered her tenderness only to dictate her " For some time, to lessen his uneasiness and
words.                                        diminish his anxiety, to expand our daily means,
"What do you intend to do?" said she; "and I have undertaken at all hazards to keep the
how do you intend to bear the-burden of this house for the small sum of four thousand francs
empty, monotonous, and idle career, the more which he pays me quarterly. To this he adds
exposed to guilty passions, because it has not the corn, wood, hay, vegetables, and the little proexcitement of duty and the busy obligations of ducts of the garden, and that part of Milly which
activity?  I tremble and wake all night long is not planted in vines. This does not suffice to
when I think of it. Have I, oh, God! given pay the servants, the bills of your sisters' teachbirth to a son adorned with some of the most ers, and their and my toilets-modest as they may
precious gifts, and whom I intended to educate be; at the same time keeping up the propriety
to be admired, and a glory to thee, only to see and family elegance I must maintain, not accordthy very gifts and his high powers turned against ing to our fortune, but our social rank.
him in the inactivity and the obscurity of a use-   "God has given me in our neighbor, kind
less life?  Thou knowest that I would pour out Madame Paradis, a sister and a friend who is
my blood, as I have my milk, to make him a man willing to share with me not only the enjoyments
after thine own heart. My prayers, however, but the troubles and embarrassments ofmy family,




12                ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.
She is the invisible hand of Providence in all our are the revelations of these various vocations,
difficulties. She is untrammeled, a widow, with- which, when compressed in the minds of those
out relations, and though not rich is in comfort- in whom they manifest themselves, produce a
able circumstances, considering that she is alone slow suicide of the divine fac.. ties; that the
and economical. Whenever she sees a trace of legitimate passions of the mind, if repressed,
care on my brow she wishes to participate in it. become guilty; and that passions which are reShe measures friendship only by its sacrifices, pressed must explode.  My passions and tears
yielding wine like a vine, and fruits like an or- produced nothing but sarcasms against me. I
chard. She takes pleasure in lending me what could do nothing but submit to the will of God.
I need on unforeseen emergencies, for secret I could only regret and languish. Alas! all
expenses which are beyond my means.  By that a mother can do to soften that exile I will.
means of her generosity I have supplied, without I shall suffer more than you will from your inthe knowledge of your father, the insufficiency activity and the loss of your happiest years, on
of the sums given me for you. With the money which, as you well know, I had based all my
received from this perfect friend I have paid for hopes, my happiness, and my maternal pleasure.
many of your faults, unknown to the family. No I will pity you, for I understand you. I shall
trouble of mine does she fail to guess, no diffi- receive and keep in my heart the sad confidences
culty is there from which she does not extricate of your aspirations, which were so natural, but
me. Twenty years ago I loved her from feeling, which have been so disappointed. I shall seek
and she has now from gratitude acquired a right -I will pray to God, and he vIll hear me, to
to be of the family. She is the angel of inex- open to you a more extensive horizon, more
tricable difficulties, placed by the Almighty as worthy of you. I, however, beseech you, my
a sentinel to protect us by her tenderness. Every child, confess such things only to me, and snake
morning when I open my window, and look into no exhibition of sadness, nor of dissatisfaction at
her balcony, if there be a frowif on my face she your present life, either in your countenance or
hurries to remove it. Ah, my child, remember your words. Above all, do not let your poor
Madame Paradis has been a ray of divine Prov- father know of your thoughts. You would make
idence to your mother!                        him unhappy, yet would not alter the condition
"When things are thus restricted, you will of our fortune. He, as well as I do, suffers
understand that your poor father could not furnish from our wants and your idleness. Because,
the means of subsistence, especially as he had no however, of his love of his children, and his
profession and no income except what he derived anxiety about their prospects, he is forced to
from his estate. He has even been forced, though deal carefully with his brothers and sisters, who
in doing so he was wanting in justice to yourself, are richer than he is, and who possess all the
to reduce by one half the pension of twelve fortune 4of the family.  He submits to their
hundred francs allotted for your support and ideas, as he can not induce them tc yield to his.
your expenses. You know how economical and Do not distress him by seeing your ennui: do
how scrupulously just he has ever been. Do not not embitter, by disputes and quarrels, those on
even seem to suffer. but yield to this unavoidable whom we depend to advance both yourself and
retrenchment. I will do all I can, and Madame your sisters. Live quiet and idle for a year or
Paradis will aid me.                         two, and I will pray so devoutly to God, that
"Hitherto I had hoped that your father's family the hearts of your uncles and aunts will be
would understand the necessity of your youth melted. God will grant my son a career of
for action, and that it would make the necessary activity-a field of glory and honor wide enough
sacrifices to sustain you for a few years in di- even to satisfy a mother as anxious for the sueplomatic or administrative functions.  I have cess of a son as I am.
been able to accomplish nothing. It was in    "This is what I sought to say to you," added
vain that I reasoned, begged, conjured, and she, rising from her chair, and blessing me both
wept. In vain did I humiliate myself before with her eye and her hand. She then said, with
them, as it is glorious for a mother to pray for more kindness of tone, and with a more tender
her son. All was vain. They would not even accent, something about God, the faith of my
think of it. They are kind and tender; they childhood, and the purity of heart to be recovlook on you as their son, and the person who, ered by repentance; of the peace of mind which
when they are dead, is to inherit their patri- is derived only from heaven; of resignation and
mony. Their tenderness, however, only looks into the mute, invisible and most perpetual sacrifice
the distance, and entirely disregards the present. next that of Christ. The victim always renewThey are old, and can not transport themselves ed is ourself; and the one who rewards us, and
from their century into our own. They can not is ever present, is God. At last she fell on her
remember they were once young as you; they knees at the foot of my bed, and prayed for
can not remember that a young man who has a while. Then with silent footsteps she withthe paternal home, roof, table, and patronage, drew. I thought that an angel had come to
has yet other desires which reach beyond the visit me, and for a long time after her departure
walls of the little city of Macon. All this sort I stood motionless, with her words ringing in
of thing they look on as the chimeras and fanta- my ears, and her kiss on my brow.
sies of a diseased mind, and have no idea beyond the monotonous career of life in the street                   X.
of our little village. A few walks every day, a   At a late hour I arose, and, having gone to
game of boston, and every once in a while a speak to my father, thanked him for the pleasmarriage of convenance, make up the winter. ant room he had assigned me. It was Sunday,
The summer they pass on some old dilapidated and the bells of the only church then at Macon
estate. In vain did I say, that God gave differ- were ringing to call the faithful to the ten
eat vocations to different natures; that aptitudes o'clock mass.




ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.                                      13
I went out, and with the crowd proceeded to   She had five daughters, and for a moment
the porch of the church. There I met a few  they stood grouped around her, like a family
relations and family friends, who spoke to me, group modeled by one of the greatest painters
and with whom, during the ceremony, I chatted and sculptors, Nature and Chance. Theircharm.
beneath the trees. When the mass was over, ing, yet very different faces, harmonized by
the crowd departed, and passed in groups before what is called the family air, and by similarity
me. It was, so to say, a family-review. The of dress, were a little in the back ground against
gentry, citizens, and artisans in their festival the dark portal of the church, the arches of
attire, were all confounded in God's presence. which made it somewhat dark. One might have
It is well known that in villages and small fancied them a band of the angels of morning,
towns, on this day and hour of the week, people coming out of the darkness to mingle with the
approach and, without any formal acquaintance, day, of which they were at once emanations
talk with each other. On the street, the square, and decorations. The slowness of the motion
the porch of the church, people exchange salut- of the crowd, the frequent stoppages on the
ations with each other, and sometimes a short side-walk, gave me time to look at their aniconversation ensues. At this time and place, the mated faces. For the first time I then saw all
people of leisure, the inquisitive, and young men of them at once, since the older ones had left the
who seek to exchange a glance with the other convent. I could not refrain from participating
sex, who during the rest of the week are invis- in the general murmur of approbation at this
ible, stand in groups or in a line, and see pass, family bouquet, with which I was so nearly
and follow with a murmur of admiration, the related.
young women, the beauty of whom is the glory    The eldest of my mother's daughters was
and fame of the province.  Mechanically I only eighteen, and was named Cecile. Her
looked, as every one else did, but had no choice splendid form would have been as tall as my
or preference, at the crowd which left the church, mother's, if the extreme modesty of her nature
distributing, each to each, the holy water. I had not induced her to look down, and to shrink
was waiting for my mother.                    from admiration, as another would have done
She was one of the last who came out, for from  shame. She thus looked habitually on
she always prolonged her prayers as much as the ground.
possible, leaning over her seat, with her eyes   Her features, which were like those of my
cast down, to pray more devoutly, and to invoke father's family, were rather bold than graceful,
more blessings on her children. On this occa- and more calculated to produce a first impression she had prayed more than usual, for she sion than a second. The ensemble was dazzling,
had prayed for me.                            the bold lines struck the observer, while the
expression was ravishing. The characteristic
XI.                      of the face was goodness of heart. I can not
The spring sun fell on the damp stones of the describe the radiation of splendor in which she
door. The calm light of morning mingled on seemed to float. Nothing was discernible but
the portico with the light of the tapers, and the charm. Imperfections of detail disappearthese two illuminations were united on my ed entirely, especially when she was a little
mother's face, as nature and Christian grace removed from  the eye. She had size, unity,
perpetually harmonized in her heart.  She be- and grace, the three chief points of female
gan to smile on those of her acquaintances, beauty in the eyes of those who do not analyze.
the glances of whom  she met as they stood She, therefore, was the popular beauty of the
between the church-door and the street. Her family; the one whom people preferred, and
lips yet bore the impression of the last thought whom  they loved most to see in the street.
of God which entered her mind previous to the The people of the city knew her name, and spoke
dispersion of the crowd. Paleness and traces of her with pride to strangers, when she was at,of the tears shed in the morning, were com- church or walking,  Passers-by turned round
pletely effaced, beneath the peace she found in to look at her. The shops, walls, and very
communion with heaven, and in the flush which pavements were in love with her. She had no
the heat of the church and excitement of prayer suspicion of this, and her only coqu'etry was
cast over her. The steps which were covered simplicity and timidity, her habit of blushing
with poor women, children, and old men, kept increasing from the prolonged childishness of
my mother as it were on a pedestal, where all her heart.  Her charm was nature, her characcould see her.                                ter impulsive, her wit ready, prompt, and infantIn the height and elegance of her stature, ine, but often surprising from its very naivetg.
in the flexibility of her neck, in the pose of her She had no taste for art; she learned quickly, but
head, in the delicacy of her complexion, which was incapable of continued efforts, so that she
blushed at being observed, like a young girl of bothdelighted and distressed her teachers. Even
fifteen. in the purity of her features, the silken then, it was evident that she was formed more
softness of her hair, which glittered beneath her for the hearth-side than for the world. She was
hat, she exhibited the radiance of the glance and a vine to bear fruits not flowers; one of those
smile, the invincible attraction which is the mys- women predestined to intoxicate us, not by the
terious compliment of true beauty, she seem- barren perfumes of mind, but to make fruitful,
ed but twenty years of age, for that was the to give birth to and to watch over a rich gendate of her impressions which she had main- eration.
tained in virginal purity. Between her daugh-   The name of the second was Eugenie. She
ters and herself, there was the difference sep- was a year younger, and leaned on her elder
arating the branches from the fruit; the look sister as if her frail, lithe form needed someembraced them together and did not disunite thing to rest on in the breeze, which met her
them.                                        at the door, and in the gaze of all this multitude.




14                ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.
Her appearance was entirely different, being her. All around swore no living man was pure
like Ossian's phantoms in the noon-day splendor. enough to replace the book at her bosom, and
She was an animated shadow, an impalpable that love of one so pure would have been profan.
form, with blue eyes, large and deep, like the ation.
sea, whence light seemed to rush from afar as   Between my two other sisters and Suzanne,
from a mysterious dream. Her face was oval there was a much greater distance of age. One
and Scotch-like, her features delicate, and the might have fancied there had been a longer in.
perfection of its features was ideal. She had terval between them, or that death had borne
a pensive expression about her mouth, deli- away one of my mother's children. Their two
cate lips, a grave expression, and long silken young brows, instead of reaching Suzanne's, did
yellow hair falling in tresses over her face. Her not come to her shoulders. There seemed sevappearance was Norwegian almost. Her mind eral steps wanting.
and heart corresponded. More advanced than
those older than she was, artistic, she grew pale                 XII.
at the story of a heroic action, at beautiful   The one of my sisters who stood next to Supoetry, or the sound of music. She was sensi- zanne was named Cesarine. She was sixteen,
tive to a degree that was almost painful, poet- a year older than the next. Nature, however,
ical, musical, and literary.  Shut up in herself had not formed her to arise so flexible and ma.
and living in worlds of her imagination, she was jestic as the two first stems. More developed,
less pleasing to the multitude, more watched but less tall, she was one of the plants which
and looked after, like flowers that love the shade, become mature too early. Nothing in her
by the curious and passionate.  She would recalled the young girl of our climate, and the
have been most attractive to men of the north. temperate blood of our family.  Something
This too was her fate. At that time the pre- southern and warm characterized her beauty.
cocious expansion of her powers, the poetry and Her hair'of dark chestnut, was less silky to look
melancholy of her mind, made her resemble me at, but in fact was as soft as that of her sisters.
far more than her sister did.  We were two It seemed to have been burned by the sun of
reflections of the sun, which fell, one cold and Naples or Spain. Her eyes were of so dark
manly on my brow, and became virginal and a blue that they seemed black, and were covered
feminine on hers.  She was admired but -not with longer lashes than I ever saw on any wo.
popular. She was thought to be disdainful be- man except in Asia. Her brow was made low
cause of her superiority.                    by hairs which approached, perhaps, too nearly
Next to these two sisters, of equal size, but of to her eyes, as my own did. Her nose was
such different characters, was a third almost as straight, short, and a little less prominent than
large, though but fifteen years old. She stood those of the rest of our race. Her lips a little
a little back with the youngest. Her name more chiseled, exhibited when she smiled, teeth
was Suzanne. In relation to her all agreed. pearly white and regular, and yet smaller than
There was neither argument nor dispute in all those of the rest of the family. Her skin was
the city, but one enthusiastic admiration of her not so fair nor so white, and bore the reflection of
wonderful beauty. Hers was purity of outline and that internal fire, which romance gives to the
the virginity of the Madonnas of Raphael, or the faces of Judith or Sophonisba, in the " Charity of
body of a Psyche of Phidias. She was a model Scipio."  Her flesh was not coarse, but was
for a Christian virgin, chaste, pure, and virginal like velvet in its freshness and vitality. Her
as was ever given to the ecstasy of the most voice also had a more metallic and masculine
passionate adoration of the deified woman. Peo- tone than her sisters'. One might have fancied
ple in church used to call her the altar-piece, she would have spoken Dante's language, with
because in the choir, there was a saint by the accent of Sienna or Florence.  She seemed
Megnard which resembled her. Her form, real- to be a fledgling of Italy, cast by chance into a
ly too angelic for a child of earth, had but two Gallic nest; a creature of the Italian winds,
characteristics-beauty and piety. She was evi- which had crossed the Alps; a ray incrusted in
dently not made to be loved by man, but one of the warmth of Sorento or Portici, exiled to the
those beings shown to humanity.  She was a north. Her beauty was different from that of
chorister of his supernatural temple, a constel- Suzanne, and though more dazzling, was, per.
lation of heaven, one of those beings we see but haps, inferior to it in perfection.  It took the
may not touch. She had already an instinct and heart by storm. Other faces might be conteminnate presentiment that it was her only voca- plated calmly.  This inflamed like a furnace.
tion to meditate on and adore God. She was All said that at the time of her complete developan impersonation of living prayer. My mother ment, when she would radiate into the souls of
could not keep her from her knees. She had men, she would be one of the beauties, predes.
at too early an age inhaled her own aspirations tined to fire the heart and dazzle the eyes-one
to the infinite. This aspiration had borne her of those beings on whom it is fatal to look. At
from earth, whence it was impossible to recall this time her character seemed to promise to
her.                                         fulfill all of these auguries.  She had that sud.
Just as Suzanne left the church, which was den attractiveness, the rebellion and fire of those
her real home, she turned back to glance once Italian hearts before an element of passion suffi.
more at the choir and altar, to say farewell to cient to use up that flame is found. Some were
the tabernacle. She looked down, lest if her afraid that in the end she would give her mother
eyes met those of the crowd which were fixed much trouble and difficulty. These apprehen.
on her, some portion of her fervor might evapo- sions were vain: all the fire of her youthful
rate. Her hands held over her bosom a book heart died out; an inclination opposed and overof prayers, in a case of black velvet. Volatile come by the family, a marriage of reason and
glances became serious when they rested on duty, previously contracted in obedience to foroed




ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.                                      15
orders; illness and death in a foreign land, were                 X
the destiny of my young sister.  Cesarine was
but a tear shed on burning coals. I will remem-   Though I was aware, when I-passed beneath
ber her as long as I live.                    the peaceable and sombre vestibule of my faJust then she gave her hand to the youngest ther's house, of what we experience when we
among us-a sister yet a child, named Sophie. enter the sanctuary, the door of which separates
She had a face like those from the banks of the us from the crowd, crushed as I was by sadness,
Rhine, with pale blue eyes E pd light hair. She I was too young not to grow weary very soon
had a gentle, sensitive, and thoughtful expres- of this asylum which was too narrow for my
sion. She continually turned her face and looked wings, and too monotonous for my mobility.
toward my mother, to obey the orders she Yet I was at first only aware of pious submis.
sought to divine from her glance. Tenderness, sion, of that gentle inoculation of my mother's
ingenuousness, and obedience constituted her heart which diffused itself from her like an in.
character, and all of them  are virtues. My visible shadow. I made a retreat for myself
mother worshiped her, as all women do their in the silence of my own room, and in study,
first and last child, the one who first comes to following the example of those I saw around
their knees to be told who is their mother, and me.
the one who recalls to them  that they were   Such was my father's house, and of such eleyoung. This weakness of my mother would ments was the rest of my family composed.
have spoiled Sophie, had it been possible to
abuse her goodness.  God had not, however,                        XV.
mingled a single imperfection in the clay of   My father, mother, sisters, and myself did not
this child vouchsafed to my father's old age. constitute the whole of our family. I have al.
She was the personification of the innocence ready said that my father had purchased a town.
of the family.  Her very accent and voice house, to enable him to complete the education
betokened it as much as her subsequent destiny of his daughters. In that house we lived, but
did.                                          in another and more elevated part of the town
was the hotel of our name, the hereditary manXIII.                     sion of the family, in which my grandfather had
My mother, involuntarily had looked around lived, and which was now the home of my
for me, that she might be able to deck her- father's eldest brother, and of two unmarried
self with all her happiness at the door of the sisters, also older than he was. The house was
house of that God to whom she was indebted tall, vast, and noble, both in its aspect and site,
for every thing. I passed through the crowd preserving some remnant of the ante-revolutionand joined her and my sisters. My father was ary appearance it had possessed previous to
waiting for us at a little distance. We all re- those days when ruin had struck such households,
turned together to our home, accompanied by a and their inhabitants had been proscribed. A
few family friends who met us in the street. massive door, a long and large vestibule, led to
The crowd stood aside, and murmured a faint a grand stair-way. There were a rez-de-chausadmiration at the appearance of my mother in see, a series of reception rooms, dining and
the midst of this cortege she had made for her- drawing rooms, magnificently paved with marble,
self. She was Niobe, before her sorrows, on with carving and gilding above the doors, which
the banks of the Saone. In every eye I read were painted and glazed in arabesque.  All
cordiality, and an inward invocation of blessings these rooms opened into a court-yard garden,
from the whole populace, on this good and holy like those of the houses of Naples and Seville,
woman. I walked alone a few steps behind on which painters had drawn magnificent landthis band of young sisters, the golden hair of scapes. On the first story there was a more
whom I saw floating over their robes of the modest drawing-room, the one most frequently
same color and fashion. The spectacle of a used, and the rooms of the principal members
father and mother leading by bonds of tender- of the family. The second story rooms were
ness this choir of animated souls, from the house almost naked, and were appropriated for old
of prayer to their home, where all were so happy, devotes of the family, retired servants, who,
loving, and good; to see friends, relations, however, were provided for at the hotel-to
neighbors, artisans, and servants all smiling at friends, and a few guests who from time to time
this magnificence of nature so developed in a visited my uncle and aunts. Such was the
family universally beloved, made an ineffaceable house; and such is it now, almost in spite of the
impression on me. I compared, involuntarily deaths and various changes which have made it
perhaps, this innocence, purity, serenity of my my own.
mother and her daughters, the majesty of my    On the street, it was separated from the court.
father, and the consciousness of having dis- yard and stables by an open space in which
charged the obligations of duty and love in the there was a well, the chain of which was all the
circle of all living affections which had from our time going up and down. From the windows
very cradle enfolded our house, with the evap- on the first story might be seen, only a hundred
orations, the delirium, satiety, and want of paces removed, the tops of several groups of
pleasure which I had met with in my early life. lindens, planted in a park where the old ramparts
I could not but become aware, that if God has of Macon had been. Beyond was the noble, but
infused delirium in our dreams, he has infused vast facade of a hospital constructed according
peace and tranquillity in real life. A virtuous and to the desigus of the architect of the Pantheon.
affectionate family is a branch of the tree of life. Here we saw invalids and convalescents taking
When the branch is torn from the trunk, it is the air, and warming themselves in the sun.
swept by the tempest into the whirlpool of pas- In front of the hospital, a few old men, and
sion.                                         children sporting in the sand of the place-d'arnes.




16                ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.
Behind it were seen the green acclivities of a double right of age and service, assumed this
number of hills, divided into plantations and power and authority in the family. Before long
gardens. This was the horizon from its win- his merit won for him the reputation of a man
dows. It sufficed to make the imagination fruit- of the greatest importance, both in Francheless, and to crush every thing that the eyes de- Comte and Maconnais, in which our principal
light in. It was like the house of a Castilian estates were situated. In a few years he had
noble in some petty Spanish town, without, how- established order in my grandfather's affairs, and
ever, the artistic and religious solemnity of the a good system of agriculture; he had produced
old cathedrals and mosques of that country.  regularity in the receipts and expenses, and supWe never entered it without a certain feeling pressed useless luxury in regard to servants and
of RESPECT.                                  horses. He accommodated or gained all the
XVI.                     law cases, wrote out memorials which he read
himself or caused to be read before the ParliaThe eldest brother of my father lived in this ments of Dijon and BesanFon. This he was
house during the half of the year. He and his enabled to do in consequence of his possessing a
sisters owned it. He was the only one who was knowledge of the laws, a taste for business, a
called by the family name. The eldest of the mental quickness rarely found, the habit of
sisters was called Mademoiselle de Lamartine; writing, and the gift of speaking well.
the second Madame la Countess de Villars, from    Joined with these exertions to aid and assist
her rank as countess and an estate in Franche- his father were the most general and profound
Comt6 my grandfather had given her.          scientific studies. He used to visit Buffon, who
My uncle was then about sixty only; he was was then at Montbord, writing his Natural Hisbroken with age, in consequence of a feeble tory. He was lie with Daubenton, the assistconstitution and precocious diseases. His sight ant of the great naturalist. He did not either negwas bad and he trembled when he walked. He lect literature, which Voltaire had made the
had nothing of the strong, souple, military car- vehicle of philosophy.  Our estate of Saintriage of my father. He was of medium stature Claude, near Ferney, had made him acquainted
and his limbs were thin. He stooped a little, with the man of society. He did not think
from a habit contracted from looking at the about every thing precisely as Voltaire did;
ground, and from passing long hours over his but a similar disposition led him to admire that
books. Though the constitutional and liberal exquisitely good sense which expressed an idea
ideas of 1789 animated him; though he had been with the precision that figures express numbers.
a friend and disciple of Mirabeau, he wore, with He himself aspired to reform the ideas of the
exactness, the aristocratic costume of the ancient human mind, which were centuries behind the
regime. He wore shoes with diamond buckles, age. With the nobility he insisted on the infesilk stockings, short clothes buckled at the knee, a riority of the clergy as a political, and even prowaistcoat with long flaps and pockets full of prietory portion of the nation. As a country
snuff boxes, chains, and rings, which hung down gentleman he did not like the Court, and wished
his thigh. He wore his cravat around his neck for institutions to remove the nation from the intight as collar, wore his hair a l'aille de pigeon fluence of the intrigues of the ante-chambers and
a queue, pomatum and powder which he scattered saloons of Versailles. As a philosopher and a
around him at every word. His features, were man of education he wished merit and character
originally pure firm and fine, as if he had been to be at least equal titles to power with family.
made of marble. His lips were almost constantly In a word, he belonged to that vast and almost
closed by fixedness of thought. His color was universal opposition which, during the last years
pale and transparent, and he had delicate hands of the old monarchy, presaged and sought to
veined as the portraits of Vandyke, which he moderate the revolution. He did not seek to
resembled much. I have a perfect engraving overturn the rich, but to regulate the State. He
of him in my memory, for he was one of those I was in heart agreater republican than he thought
had most time to observe in life, and who in my himself, for his critical and reforming mind,'aniT
youth gave me more trouble than pleasure. He his proud and absolute character, made it diffiwas the personification of the severity, and often cult for him  to submit to any pre-ordained
of the contradiction of my destiny, though he superiority.  He was a constitutionalist, but
always sought to be a second father and provi- perhaps would have been more revolutionary,
dence to me.                                  had not his habits been those of the aristocracy,
as was the case with La Fayette and MiraXVII.                     beau.
He was the very contrast of my father,
and of a character altogether different from                     XIII.
mine.                                           At the very commencement of the Revolution
Though educated at the military school, and his talents attracted attention to him, and -h
like other young nobles of his day, having served was elected by the nobles to the Estates of Burfor a time in the light-horse of the guard of gundy. He was spoken of for the States-genLouis XV., his sedentary and studious habits and eral. His infirmities, however, attacked him
his position as eldest of the family, destined to early, and made him object to the role assigned
marry young, and to possess all the property of him. He would certainly have become famous
the name, soon brought my uncle home. More in the.ssemblee Constituante-if not as an oraeconomical, regular, and laborious than my grand- tor, for he had neither voice or nor enthusiasmfather, who was an agreeable but extravagant as an organizer and reformer among such men
man, consequently in spite of his fortune always as Thouret and Chapelier, who were persons
in difficulties, he had acquired a vast ascendency of action, meditation, and preparation. His mind
over him. He had naturally enough, by the did not burn, but always enlightened.  He could




ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.                                      17
not sit in any deliberative body without being able results. The military despotism  of the
seen.                                        Empire oppressed him and made him indignant.
XIX.                     The triumph of armed force over his ideas and
rights, the government to which no reply could
Though his disposition was cold and austere, be made, the concluding argument of law, jushe had a long and durable attachment.  My tice, and philosophy announced at the cannon's
grandfather and grandmother had prevented mouth, the autocracy of police replacing discushim  from  marrying the object of his devo- sion in the land of Voltaire, Montesquieu, and
tion, and he refused to accept another. Thus Mirabeau, to him were intolerable.  This he
it happened, that though rich, and the favorite did not disguise. He had been offered a seat in
son of' a family in danger of becoming extinct, the legislative body, and had been sounded in
he was at forty unmarried.  When he reached relation to the senate: he refused every thing.
that age, and saw that he was in bad health, he He would have sate on the little bench of the
looked before and behind him, and came to the opposition with Cabanis and Tracy. He would
conclusion that his journey was too short to ad- not, like them and their friends. bow down bemit of his attaching to himself the cortege of a fore tyranny, only for the purpose of discovering
wife and children. He therefore determined to its impotence, decline, and fall, at the same time
permit his two sisters, almost as old as himself, that his opinions involved him in comnplicity with
to take care of his household, that he might give the general servitude.  He preferred to remain
himself up to his tastes for independence, leisure, free and irresponsible in his retreat. When the
and study..                 emperor came to Macon, in 1809, and remained
The object of his affection I used often to there for a few days, he had a conversation with
meet in the drawing-room of the house. She him, in the presence of Monsigneur de Prat,
was a relation, a sister of the famous Marquis Archbishop of Malines, and a few gentlemen of
de Saint-Hirurge, celebrated for turbulence and the imperial court. The emperor was dissatisdemagogism in the early scenes of the revolu- fied with the conversation.  " What do you wish
tion. He was one of the hurricanes of Mira- to be?" said he, at its close.  " Nothing, sire,"
beau loosed on the people, like Camille Des- replied my uncle. The emperor turned away
moulins, Danton, and Santerre, in the Palais with a look of anger. He distrusted those who
Royal, or Faubourg Saint-Antoine, when some did not ask for any thing, because it satisfied
great manifestation was required.  The mar- him they wished to keep their souls free.
quis was not ferocious.  He was not even a
Jacobin, but only excitable, and an agitator.                    XXI.
He loved action and noise for themselves alone.   Such was the redoubted and almost absolute
He was a celebrity of the public squares, with head of the family. He controlled public opinthe voice of Stentor, the frame of a giant, and ion by the high and just consideration with which
the bearing of a madman. I saw him  once: hewas surrounded. He controlled his sistersby
when I was a child, come on horseback to our the affection, respect, and obedience they paid.
house. He was with a Polish adventurer, in a He controlled my father by means of his age,
strange costume, also mounted. He was re- superiority of fortune, and that old habit of obeceived coldly, and dismissed scarcely politely. dience to their elder brothers which cadets reHe had become a great royalist. He never ceived as a command of God. The old regime
was a terrorist, and declaimed madly against looked on them as destined to govern the family
the murderers of Louis XVI., the queen, Madame absolutely. He managed my mother by the maElizabeth, and so many thousands of innocent ternal care she had, and should have, in the
persons. His bearing, gesture, and insane looks, prosperity of children who'depended on him.
were impressed on my childhood's memory. He naturally wished to govern especially mySome time after he became mad, at least, people self, the only son of the family capable of persaid so, for Bonaparte locked him up in Charen- petuating his name.
ton, where he died.
His sisters, good, pious women, were a touch-                  XXII.
ing contrast to his opinions, morals, and turbu-   Until then, as a child or youth, I had few oclence. Robbed of their asylum in the convents, casions to feel the direct weight and attrition
they lived all three of them in a small house of his will on mine. When at college or travelwhich belonged to them, and was next door to ing, this had only been reflected on me through
my grandfather's. The youngest of these ladies, my mother's mind. Now, however, we were to
my uncle had wooed. She was gentle and grace- meet, he with absolute authority, and I with the
ful, and in her face was seen the reflection of independence of youth. Never, in one family,
love, chilled but not extinguished by time.   and so closely connected together, were there
two natures more unlike than those of the uncle
XX.                      and nephew.
The excesses and crimes of the Revolution    He was a thinking man, I a dreaming boy.
had visited my family, as it did all the households He acted from consideration, I spoke from imof the noblesse and bourgeoisie of Macon. He pulse. He was cold and I warm. He was a
had been imprisoned with his father, mother, man of study, I a creature of inspiration. Ho
and sisters. The scaffold came near sweeping was economical and I prodigal. He was restrictthem away.  The horror he felt at the madness ed to the narrow and well-regulated horizon of
and crimes of the populace had not altered his a province, city, and family, while I soared on
love of liberty and notion for constitutional insti- wings large as the world. He wished to make
tutions, whether under a monarchy or well-or- me like him; nature had formed me like my
dered republic.  He lamented the Revolution, mother, in another mould and of another metal.
but did not curse it either in principle or prob- He placed a value only on science, and I on
B




18                 ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.
sentiment.  To express all in a few words, he her children.  My aunts were good, but they
was a mathematician, I was, or might be a poet. were idle, and consequently particular.  They
How could the Arabic numeral and the flame loved and even venerated my mother.  They
be combined? -                                looked on us as their own children, and thereEvery mutual effort served only to separate fore expected all the obedience and duty of maus more and more.  He remained precise, icy, ternity.
and motionless, I evaporated and became like   I had nearly forgotten to describe them, which
wind.  Though we loved we could not under- would make a great lacuna in this family gallery.
stand each other.  He was my master, and if Let me do so.
he sometimes became impatient at meeting a    The eldest of my aunts was Mademoiselle
nature often involuntarily rebellious, at beingl Lamartine.  Her character was rather angelic
subject to his form of mind, I could only rebel in than feminine.  She had been her mother's pet,
silence, and mutely curse that family mischance and mistress of the house while my grandmother
which brought into contact two natures every lived. She had been the teacher of her younger
thing else would separate. He froze me, I blis- sisters, the mediatrix for her brother, and adored
tered him.  We suffered and made each other by all.  Though very beautiful until she was
suffer, not intentionally, but because we could twenty-eight or thirty, she refused to marry,
not help it.                                   that she might be the attendant of her mother
as long as she lived.  She had shared her captivity, and attended on her.  When her mother
Often there resulted dissatisfaction and mutual died, she was toQ old, and the Revolution had
repulses, which made his day uncomfortable proscribed the only man she ever loved purely,
and my life hard. My mother went to and fro as her soul could love. She attached herself to
between him and me to adjust matters.  My her eldest brother, to whom she confided the
father maintained neutrality, as if he was afraid administration of her property.  She was misof his own vivacity, which possibly might have tress of his house, and governed his servants as
offended or made his brother angry.  His mil- she had been used to do. She presided over the
itary character: which was open and quick, had distribution of his charity, and passed her whole
more analogy to me.  He would often have time in devotion, calm  and mild, but sensible
thought me in the right, but he would also have and exalted almost as St. Theresa's.  She was
respected, for my own sake, the authority and slight, pale and languid, with good eyes, and a
sovereignty of the head of the family. He then smile which always hung on her lips.  The
used to go to the chase, and referred all troubles transparent vail of devotion to, and love of holy
to my mother for solution.                     things was ever on her lips, and she never laid
It was my uncle's wish that I should remain aside religious ideas except to  gratify her
at Macon, like a young girl in a provincial brother.  She passed at least half of the day in
boarding-school, to make me study under his the churches, at the foot of the altar.  The pale
directions the sciences, in which I felt the least yellow glare of the altar-lights seemed permainterest: physics, natural history, chemistry, nent on her face.   She was a picture of
mathematics, and mechanics.  Then to devote Christian contemplation.
myself, on one of his domains, to agriculture    The other. called, as I have said, Madame de
and domestic economy, until, as people then Villars, was of a more manly character than
said, my youth should have passed away. He most men, more heroic than most heroes, and
then wished me to marry and become a shoot of impetuous and exacting as a hurricane.  In the
that more or less fertile growth ofhumanity, no main she was generous and frank, swallowing
head of which is taller than the other, in a re- memories as the sand does water, and always
mote province.  Against such a destiny I have willing to repair, by a prodigality of kindness
nothing to say, as it is the most natural and on one day, the consequences of that vivacious
happy. Would to God it had been my lot. humor she had been unable to repress.  People
Each one, however, has his fate already decided slightly acquainted with her loved her, because
by nature when he is born. Such a lot was not they did not feel the consequences of her whims.
mine, though my uncle could not read that it Those who were in close contact feared her,
was in my eyes.  That is all.                  being always in contact with her whims. So to
say, she was like a coarse skin covering a beauXXIV.                      tiful form-such a woman is only to be admired
The life we led at Macon, in the circles of at a distance.
our household family and society, was monoton-  - In her youth she was not so handsome as her
ous, regular, and restricted, like a monastic cir- sister, but was more lively and better instructed.
cle expanded to the dimensions of a little city. With those of the preceding generation she was
Such a life would have stagnated the very notion famed for her good sense, and she had a kind of
of the Alpine cascades, I had recently visited, or coquetterie which was yet pleasant. She always
have produced an explosion in the breast of a controlled the drawing-room, and directed conyoung man ill at ease, and in need of air, activ- versation. When it languished she infused a
ity, and exercise.                             new vivacity into it, like those theatrical perI secluded myself in my room with my books sons who, by their questions, make grand and
and a dog until dinner was announced at noon- eloquent replies necessary.
day. After dinner, all of us went to the great
drawing-room  of the family hotel.  There we                       XXV.
found our uncle and aunts drawing, reading, and    When she was fifteen years old she was ensewing after dinner.  This was the hour I so rolled in the chapter of canonesses, of which she
much dreaded, when my mother received re- was a member. This is a kind of mundane conmonstrances and reproaches for every fault of vent, which does not permit marriage, but re



ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.                                         19
cognizes the influence of society.  Her vows, de Villars obstinately and positively. My mothin a moral point of view, were forced.          er, who was distressed on our account, often beIn her heart she never ceased to protest came angry.  I sided resolutely and positively
against the half monastic constraint of this celi- with my mother, and protested against their
bacy, to which she had been condemned before oppression.  They then began to explain and to
the age of discretion.  When the Revolution  excuse themselves.   The women would exthrew open the convent doors, and abolished all change a few tears and a few caresses, and they
female canonicates, it was too late.  She was parted half reconciled, to repeat on the next
more than thirty, and her vows were irrevoc- day exactly the same scene of recrimination
able.  She cursed them in her heart, but kept and reconciliation.  Thus was a mother, a wothem, rather from  honor and virtue than from  man of intellect, proud and hearty, forced to
religion.  During the ample leisure of her con- humiliate herself every day for the interest and
vent life, she had read with great attention  future of her children.  For us, and especially
many philosophic works, which passed easily  for myself, had she to submit to these attacks.
enough through the gratings of these half-clois- Later, this whim, which, after all, was but the
ters.  She had in this way contracted the habit idleness of three unoccupied friends, and too
of reasoning with herself, among other things, great a solicitude in relation to their kindred,
in relation to her faith, in spite of the dogmatic repaired the little injuries inflicted on my mother
resolution with which she sought to convince and myself, by kindnesses which made us look
herself of the power of Divine will. This wish on our uncles and aunts as second parents.
to trust faith to prescription, and this necessity                  XXVI
of argument, strangely contrasted with her position as a secularized nun.  In the morning she    After such rude conversations, lasting an hour
entertained opinions which she argued against or two, the minutes of which we counted on the
at night.  Her mind was a ceaseless scene of face of the chimney clock, the hands of which
strife between doubts she refuted, and faith that crawled over it so slowly that they seemed to be
she repelled. Her rebellious spirit was an ever- paralyzed, my mother returned home with her
elastic steel spring which, though bent by all daughters, to be present at the lessons they
the power of mind, resumed its original form. received from their masters; or to receive the
This internal contest, which lasted for ninety  almost constant visits of the many persons of
years, embittered her temper.  She often found  Macon, who preferred her graceful entertainit impossible to believe, and subsequently had ment to the more sumptuous hospitality of the
grievous remorse. Her misfortune was, that she family hotel.  My father went to play chess,
belonged neither to the skeptical nor to the draughts, or boston, at the house of some old
faithful.                                       dowager, or some retired officer, who, since the
The situation of her own mind did not make emigration, had like himself, found a home at.
her at all indulgent in relation to religious cere- Macon. I used to retire to my room; or, sad
monies, sermons, fasts and abstinences to be and melancholy, walked in the rear of the hospital,
kept, and religious books to be read.  She had  where there was an expanse of fields.  Thence
all the stern trickery of a doctor or casuist even  one saw the roofs of the city, the banks of the
in the ordinary conversation which took place Saone, and prairies, vast almost as the steppes
every evening in my uncle's salon.  This con- of the Danube, between Servia and Hungary,
versation was often made by her mortifying and  or like the country between the Jura and the
humiliating to my mother, to whom  shetread Alps; those Alps, from which I could no more
lectures, made allusions, reproaches, and some- detach myself, than a prisoner could from the
times bitter irony on trifling matters.  Some- wall, on the other side of which, he had been
times the subject was that feeling of worship  happy, loving, and free.
which our mother sought to make pleasant                           XVI.
rather than fearful to her daughters. Again she
would sneer at their too careful dress, and the    During these walks, when my heart was opextravagance of my father's household, which, pressed with sadness and ennui, nothing occurred
they said, exceeded his means.  Sometimes she to diversify their monotony.  I had neither the
objected to our reception of too plebeian per- excitement of a true country life, nor that deep
sonages, and the impure books of education we and profound solitude, instinct with the security
read.  Again she would object to the too great of forest life.  There were neither woods, water,
tolerance of the opinions which she practiced- nor trees; all wore the impress of a faubourg,
of the weakness of my father and mother in re- and nothing in nature is more melancholy or
lation to me.  She found fault with my many devoid of enchantment.  It was not a country
trips to Paris, and my long excursions into other then, but park-like; where people go not to
countries, to which she appropriated more than  seek for, but to escape from a thing.  Thence
she could afford.  My mother heard with a one might see the roofs of Macon, of which, at
smile, but with impatience.  She forbore, with  this period of my life, I had a perfect horror, bea truly superhuman patience, to comment on cause they represented my captivity.  Only at a
this daily examination of her conscience by her later period did they become dear to me; as the
sisters and brother-in-law.  She refuted their representatives of my father, mother, sisters, and
allegations with grace, humility, and mildness. the place where I was born.  I never met any
If a single word more keen and offensive than  one, but a few women from the barracks, with
usual aroused her, contradiction became ex- brazen faces, who were gathering violets from
cited, irritated, and heated.  The three antago- the field, or thorn flowers from  the bushes.
nists always united against her were, in fact, but Since that time the odor of violets, and the
one voice, which my uncle spoke authoritatively, snowy perfume of the primrose, the two pre.
Mademoiselle de Lamartine mildly, and Madame cursors of spring, have been unpleasant, both to




20                ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.
the sight and smell, because they always recall   There was a second and more ancient noblesse,
those sad promenades, and those women follow- not illustrious, but composed of six or eight pureed by drunken workmen and idle soldiers. The ly local families, which sought to equal the
country immediately around Macon is very like magnificence of the bishop, and which was call.
many districts in Lombardy, near Mantua, the ed the noblesse of the court.
birth-place of Virgil. Both are instinct with   There was also a proprietory and idle bourimmensity, uniformity, majesty, light, and weari- geoisie, living from their incomes, and paying
ness. These properties characterize both places. no attention to commerce, or the liberal profesI can say of this portion of my youth, that I sip- sions. It was as old or older than the noblesse.
ped to the very dregs of all the beauty and per- This bourgeoisie, mingled with the nobility,
fection of the country. How often have I not visited the same chateaus and salons, had the
reproached nature that I was not born at Naples, same opinions, and the same pleasures. A title
in Switzerland, in Savoy, in Auvergne, Dauphiny, and a preposition constituted all the difference
Jura, or Brittany. Each of these have a pro- of class.
found physiognomy, and a varied character.
How delightful therefore, was it to me, to leave                XXIX.
the platitudes of Macon, for the true-hills of the   The Revolution having dispersed, ruined, imMaconnais, like those immortal Arqua eminen- prisoned, or made all this emigrate, the wrecks
ces, where Petrarch lived and died. There is collected after the Reign of Terror, the DirecMilly my home.  I always hated cities and tory, and Consulate. The Count of Montreueil
adored the mountains of Macon.               alone had paid his head for his immense fortune
XXVII.                    and his name. The bishop had been forced to
depend on the alms of the faithful, and lives
The little city of Macon is situated in a most under the roof and at the table of one of his an,
unpicturesque country, on a river the water of cient servitors. He was as resigned and serene
which seems neither to murmur nor to move. in want as he had previously been magnificent
At this time, however, it was the home of a and profligate.
population, gentle, amiable, graceful, and spirit-   The canons and abbes lived on small pensions
uel, really able to rival the most refined and they received from the government, and on as.
educated circles I have since met with in Europe. sistance granted them by their families. The
It was a French Weimar, a Gallic Florence, a emigres, who, when they left France for the
centre of good taste, elegance, leisure, art, litera- army of Conde, were generally young, found in
ture, science, and especially of society and con- the houses of their fathers fortunes it had been
versation. Chance had collected all these ele- impossible to confiscate.  The bourgeoisie had
ments at Macon, during the few years between lost only one year of liberty in prison. Its propthe commencement of the Revolution, and the erty was untouched, and its manners were as
beginning of the century. It was, so to say, an they had been before'89.  Luxury revived.
alluvium of the old regime, and of old society, left They began to build, to plant, to give-entertain.
on the banks of the Saone. It was thus formed. ments in town and country, dinners and balls.
In 1789 there was an immensely rich episco- The time during which they had been dispersed
pate at Macon, the occupant of'which, presided and annoyed, seemed to restore to social life all
over the States, and collected in Macon, and the novelty and freshness of a property lost for
assembled in his episcopal palace, all the nota- a time and found again.
bilities of the province. The last bishop was   Thb character of the inhabitants of this part
rather a man of intelligence and luxury than of of the country was admirably adapted to this
religion. His house was the centre of delicacy, kind of life. The basis of the whole was benevgallantry, elegance, and literature.  He was olence. Their character was mild as the cliarbiter clegantiarum.  He spent his whole in- mate. There isno heat, no fire, but grace, idencome, four hundred thousand livres, in luxury tity of thought, equality of humor, and a kind of
and entertainment. He surpassed all the noblesse relationship between families, which adorns the
of the country in display, and it sought to rival, country. The whole country seemed to be one
and would have surpassed him.                family, the members of which were occupied
There were also two chapters of noble canons in making life pleasant to themselves, and agreewho had large revenues derived from canonicates, able to others. It was a kind of Faubourg of
priories, prebends, constituting a large portion St. Germain-without its proud names, its prejuof the budget of public worship. These canons dice and pride-banished to a remote part of a
generally belonging to the chief families of the remote province.
city, province, and country around, were idle,
rich, fond of amusement, and always ready to                     XXX.
make themselves conspicuous.  There was a    A  drawing-room  was thrown open every
permanent garrison in the church, composed of night, sometimes in one house, sometimes in
abbes of every age and deportment, who crowded another, to receive this large and elegant comthe chateaus and drawing-rooms.              pany.  Gaming-tables attracted all except a
There were also two families of the old nobility few tardy ones, who came after the niatches
who controlled every thing, and lived like prin- were made, and who muttered to each other a
ces.  One there was, that of the Comte de few isolated remarks as they stood by the fireMontreueil, which never went to court, but place. There were a few young girls also who
spent six hundred thousand livres a year at sat behind their mothers, and chatted together
Macon. They had a hundred horses in the as they did at the convent or at church. A constables, a theatre, and a band, the musical stant silence lasted through these games of whist
pcvers of which, were equal to those of the one and reversis. The play, moderate as it was, bent
pa i by the Conde at Chantilly.              every brow, excited every heart of man and




ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.                                      21
woman to an almost grotesque degree, and entertainments as a perfect model of a society,
which found a rest only in muttered words, and and the principal figures of that coterie, who
expressions of face and gestures, which were sat around the fire-place, have remained, as it
now radiant, and then despairing. They never were, petrified with their costumes, physiognoplayed for more than five sous a corner, but mies, gestures, tones, attitudes, and characterisman is so passionate a being that he becomes ties, both in my memory and my sight.
interested even in puerilites when he can not                   X
devote himself to important matters. Besides                    XXXI
play at these soirees was one of the traditions   There was in that coterie an old and venerable
of old times, a:id carefliLy observed on thy: abbe with a red wig, a long and intelligent
account. The playing had the serious tone of a parchment-like face, and a hanging under lip;
duty, or good society, requiring man and woman he had a commanding eye, and a voice which
both to participate in it, under the penalty of seemed to talk as if the whole century had
being considered badly educated and useless. started from some library and spoke with the
The religious services of church were not gone accent of a dusty quarto. He was known as
through with more solemnity-one was dispirit- the Abbe Sigorgne, and previous to the Revolued if they were neglected; esteemed, and sought tion had exerted a high and almost sovereign
after, if they were observed. I knew five or six control of the priests of the diocese. I have
men of the most ordinary capacity, of whom  forgotten the name and nature of his duties.
people never spoke but as they would of great He had written much, among other things, a
artists, because they played boston and rever- work called "The Christian Philosopher," which
sis so scientifically.  On the strength of this yet has reputation among theologians and semreputation they lived and died very comfortably. inarists.  He was immensely learned about
My mother and aunts did all they could to en- things that are now considered most uninterestcourage me to deserve this reputation, and to ing, such as heraldry and canon-law, questions
make myself useful to families by making an in- of ecclesiastical casuistry and logic. He also
complete table full. They failed. Though oblig- paid great attention to the natural sciences,
ing in my disposition, I never would withstand chemistry, etc. At that time priests were not
the insufierable ennui of handling for two hours at all like those of to-day. They belonged to
the same cards, without any horizon to my the world. Those of the present day are merely
mind and heart, but the abominable figures of priests, and perhaps it is best that they are so.
kings, queens, and knaves, and the constant The Abbe Sigorgne had always devoted his
heaping up of tricks, for no other purpose, when evenings to society, even when he devoted the
the hand was played out, than to begin again, whole of his mornings to the church.' He had
and continue until the clock set my mind free. been abroad, and had lived a long time at Paris.
My patience, good-will, youth, and appearance He had been a Doctor of the Sorbonne, and had
were all lost.  This made people look at me frequented the salons of Madame Dudeffant and
with disfavor; especially the old women, who Madame Geoffrin. He had been acquainted
presided with such majesty over the world of with the writers and philosophers of the 18th
eards, did so. Their faces were icy and forbid- century.  His acquaintance with Diderot and
ding to me. The necessity of accompanying my Dalambert had exerted no bad influence on his
mother and sisters to their houses, became a religious opinions. He spoke of them without
complete punishment to me, though I always hatred, but they could not persuade him from
abridged   by escaping as soon as they began his convictions. His character was like that
to play.                                      highly tempered steel from which every thing'~XXXI.~ slides without injuring the temper. He had
^'~XXXI.  ~         maintained a correspondence with Voltaire, and
There was one saloon where cards were there was a printed correspondence with Rousnever introduced, and which was opened every seau, in which the philosophers of Geneva and
evening to a small number of intimate friends. Macon had argued in the presence of the public
This was my uncle's, whither I went at evening with talent, politeness, dignity, and mutual eswith more pleasure than during the day. I met teem. The consequence of this was that the
there a small political, literary, and scientific Abbe Sigorgne enjoyed high consideration both
coterie, far less stagnant than the ordinary tone in the province and the country. Of his controof the city, in relation to the city ideas and versy with Rousseau the abbe was very proud,
times.  My uncle, who was a man of varied and it was no trifling glory for one so orthodox
knowledge, and who was fully acquainted with to have disputed with Rousseau, even if he was
all the modulations of society, was the centre of worsted. His virtue as he grew older became
the Solons. Women never made their appear- more conspicuous: for mere love of science, he
ance there; eight or ten men came there every gave gratuitous lessons every morning tkyoung
day, attracted by love to each other, and their persons of promise. M. Matheu, the nline of
affection for the master of the house. There whom yet does honor to science and to his counwas also the attraction which brings together try, was one of his pupils. The Abbe Sigorgne
people of consonant tastes.  Nothing drew to- in spite of his eighty years spoke always with
gether the persons who met there but a reciproc- kindness-that grace of old age which is pleasant
ity and conformity of tastes, opinions, studies, as the freshness of youth. If one is timidity,
and perfect freedom of conversation. Ordinar- the other is condescension, and both interest
ily all the eminent and amusing men in any us. He was listened to with deference, and his
grade of society met there.,The only aristoc- conversation was like a printed book, divided
racy was that of intellect and taste. During and distributed like a sermon. It smacked of
my wanderings as a traveler, a diplomatist, a the professor who was in the habit of being
litterateur, and author, I always think of those listened to. With h1s instruction he, however,




22                ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.
mingled a variety of anecdotes relating to the lived with two old maids who were as whimsical
men and women who had been famous in the as he was. No one ever entered their house, the
last century, well calculated to excite interest. blinds of which were always closed, or saw their
He also aroused attention by quoting poetry and garden, which was inclosed by walls. As I rode
would-be witticisms which have adhered to my along a little path which was near the house,
memory like the famous verses of Malebranche. and looked up, I saw these three civilized savages
It is almost impossible to make a learned man sitting together with their animals around them,
understand that poetry is not mere rhyme. The or plucking grass for the goat and reading
Abbe Sigorgne, who died a long time after, left aloud in some garden walk. There was an in.
his name to the street of the town in which he expressible mystery about the household. Were
died. When one leaves no children, it is some- they related?  Was there a liaison? Were they
thing to be godfather to stores.             members of some religious sect?  Not even
XX~XIII~   ~     the most curious of their neighbors could ever
XXXIII.                   gess.
guess.
Another abbe, named Bourdon, was at my   The name of the old man was Valmont. He
uncle's every night. An abbe of the court, an rarely spoke, but when he did, it was with a
old Grand Vicar, and a gourmet and man of maturity of comprehension of subjects, and with
society during the earlier parts of his life, during an elegance of language, which as soon as he
his long emigration he had many strange ad- opened his lips attracted attention. He did not
ventures.  He had frequented the drawing- conceal from me that he had been employed on
rooms of the Cardinal Bernis, of Madame de high diplomatic missions by the ministers of
Pompadour, far more than he had the halls of Louis XV.; and possibly by the king himself,
the Sorbonne. He was large, short, fat, and who had a diplomatic corps separate from that
gouty. His face was as agreeable as it was in- of his ministers stationed permanently in Contellectual, partaking more of that of the worldly stantinople, Italy, and especially in Russia and
abbe than of the priest who for the sake of Prussia.
his faith had been martyrized during a revolu-   He described the Great Frederic as well as
tion. Age, however, and the decorum of emi- Voltaire and the philosophers of Potsdam could
grations, and the spoliation of his benefices gave have done. Never did conversation fall on this
him gravity and decorum. This he never for- king and his court that Monsieur de Valmont did
got except in the heat of conversation and the not make it interesting and enrich it by the
kind of inspiration inspired by society and good strangest and rarest stories of its private life.
cheer. Then all his recollections of Paris, of He was a living chronicle of the private suppers
the court, of great names, of illustrious exiles, of the King of Prussia, of the Babylonian omens
poured forth from his memory. People remem- of Catharine the Great, and even of the morals
bered that fifteen or twenty years before he had of the seraglio. Of the political affairs of France
been one of the abbes most sought after in those and of foreign countries he never spoke. We
drawing-rooms of Versailles and Paris in which were at the crisis when religious and aristocratic
he then lived. The devotees did not like him  ideas were in a state of reaction against those
because they thought him a remnant of the old of the French Republic.  One might read from
priesthood, scarcely fit to be produced in the his face, from his silence and half repressed smile
new. His character, his habit, his official or- when conversation took this direction, that he had
thodoxy, tested by persecution, forced them to adhered to the philosophy of his youth, and that
be silent, and won for him at least the sem- in his own mind he pitied the commencement of
blance of veneration.  He was fond of me, and I the nineteenth century, which refused to take
was never weary of hearing him  describe a advantage of what it had inherited from  the
world, from which the Revolution had drawn eighteenth, and could not distinguish between
the curtain, and of which he had been one of the reason and impiety, religion and servitude.
shrewdest and most careful observers.           He was listened to with interest, but with a
One man, a mystery to all, and even to my certain degree of distrust. A few persons cenuncle, who received him regularly, came con- sured my uncle for permitting in his private
stantly to his house. He was old, but greenly circle, such free remarks on the government,
old-the age of whom none could guess. His and were afraid that he was secretly paid by
face was like a triply sealed will. His eyes the government of Bonaparte, the dark tyranny
seemed to open to enable him  to watch the of which was well known. His death proved
thoughts of others rather than suffer his to be that these suspicions were vain, for I saw him
read. His attitude was painful and constrained, die in the hospital of Macon on a pallet with all
It was easy to see that he was not at ease in a his fortune, and a white dog on a chain at the
society superior in fortune and education to that foot of his bed. My uncle went to see him, to
in which he had been born. He seemed natur- offer him a home and assistance. M. de Valally f6nd and susceptible, though like the Athe- mont refused all offers with tears of gratitude,
nian Cynic who came to see Plato, he trode on but with the proud dignity of a Stoic. He, howthe proud carpet of the master with a yet haugh- ever, as I was the youngest, asked me to take
tier pride. His whole passed life was an enigma, care of the animal who remained with him to
for no one knew either his country or his family. the agonies of death. He was then near death,
People only knew that in the winter he lived in and died the next day.
a bad neighborhood of Macon, and in an humble
house without any society but a dog, a goat, and                XXXIV.
a few books. The goat fed him, the dog amused    One of the most remarkable men identified
him, and the books amused him. When the with this society was a gentleman of Franchewinter was gone he went to a little village of Comte, who had married a lady of Macon; his
the Maconnais mountains called Bussieres, and name was M. de Larnaud. He was of colossal




ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.                                      27
all the pleasures of my life, and all its sorrows better, " the justice of love, the very gospel I
he shared.                                   preach to you, in fact and appearance. If you
The last time I was at Macon I did not see will not hear me, look at her. Her grace is so
him. My name and those of his wife and two beautiful that through her you may understand
children had been mingled in his last sighs. the grace of God."
While death thus bore away one of my last   This curate, was the priest of Bussieres, the
friends, on the soil where I was born, adversity Abbe Dumont, the type of Jocelyn. He was not
rooted from the sand of weak hearts some friend- pious as my mother was, but his virtue was enships I had fancied might be permanent.      thusiastic as hers.
XL.                                         XLII.
All these amusements, however, while my   The two villages near Milly, to which my
father and mother were at Macon, did not suf- mother used to go, were Bussieres and Pierrefice to do away with my melancholy sadness clos.  The ancient and picturesque castle of
and the insupportable ennui which the walls of Pierre-clos was inhabited by a count, the lord of
a city, and especially a melancholy one, al- all that gorge as far as Saint-Point. He was
ways impressed me with. I hate cities with all like Walter Scott's characters, in a country
my soul, as southern plants do the damp walls decidedly Scotch. He was an ignorant, rude,
of a prison. In them  my life never seemed and uneducated man. Adomestic tyrant, though
complete, my sufferings were always multiplied good enough in the main.  He was haughty
by fear, by the concentration of eyes, thought, and stern to his old vassals, who early in the
and steps, in those vast collections of eyes, Revolution sacked his domain. He had no idea
voices, noise, and mud. In a thousand pages I of the progress of events, and was even ignorant
might analyze and justify the impression thus of what an idea was. He was an impersonaformed of cities, those receptacles of darkness, tion of the eighteenth century, whimsical and
dampness, impurities, and vices, misery and bizarre in costume as in manner, and terribly
egotism, which the English Cowper completely afflicted with the gout which made his manner
expressed when he said in one verse,         yet more austere. He was, however, fond of
"God made the country, man the town."  society; a gourmand, and voluptuous, keeping
open house, and entertaining not only his neighXLI.                      bors, but all persons who had suffered in the
At last the time came when with my mother royalist cause, either in consequence of emigraand sisters I was to go to our asylum, Milly. tion, civil war, or the persecution to which the
We all sympathized together when we returned aristocracy was subjected. He had early lost
to those old walls, to that garden, to that mount- his wife, and now  his family consisted of a
ain gorge, to those paths and little meadows, younger brother who was a kind of steward of
almost overshadowed by willows, and to the the house, an elder and widowed sister who was
rivulets with their many dams and mills.     as strange as he was, but was witty and amusEvery thing restored peace to my heart, the ing. She was called Madame de Moirade. She
clear sky, the fresh air, the quivering leaves, had in the vast and vacant drawing-room of her
and the murmuring waters contributed to do so. brother, a sort of moving tent hung around with
My mother, happy and delighted as we were in curtains to keep out the cold. When cards were
the garden walks, gave perpetual vent to that introduced she used to lift up the curtains, and
sensitive and lyric poetry which ever echoed in have the tent placed near the table. There' she
her heart, or which was rather her second soul, would sit all day, for cards were played from
so full was she of piety and adoration.       eight in the morning until noon, the hour for
She there resumed her meditative habts, dinner. After dinner they used to play until
which had been interrupted by society and char- four, when all would walk along the high terity, which occupied a great portion of her time races which overlooked the meadows and fieldS.
when she was at Macon. She there filled out The owner of the castle, by means of a speaking
the lessons my sisters had received, by the aid trumpet, would give his orders to his hinds and
of books, of globes, and casts from old statues. laborers who were scattered over his domain.
She visited with her daughters the rich and After supper, cards were again resumed. Thus
poor. She used thus to while away the weary passed the year. There were but two books in
after-dinner hours either in the garret or cellar the house. One was the Report of M. Neckar, a
in reading or in conversation with a few country tedious financial expose, intended to serve as a
neighbors who came to see her. Sometimes text to the States-general, and the other was an
she used to make little excursions with us. almanack, placed on the mantle-piece.  With
The whole neighborhood was kind and animated. these books the count educated his two sons and
A general kindred existed among us, one might five daughters.  One of the two sons had emihave said, she had poured out the simplicity, grated, and was at this time thirty-six or forty
candor, and grace of her heart over all the years of age, the second, with whom a passion
region. She was a large item in the large bar- for the chase, and vicinity, made me intimate
mony of hearts which expanded whenever she afterward, was about twenty-five. Two of the
appeared. All difficulties became reconciled daughters were married, and the three younger
before her, the very angel of peace. Anger in ones were the attractions of the house. They
the mind of another distressed her almost as were all very pretty, though their beauty was
much as if she had felt it arise in her own heart. very various in character. Their father loved
She was never happy until all difficulties were them, and never doubted that their name and in,.
whiled away. The country people thought her heritance would cause them to be sought after.
the very "justice of peace and friendship." The He, to them was not only a father but a God,
curate was wont to say she was something served and adored even in his ill-humor. The




28                ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.
son was an excellent rider, and brave as a knight- saddles. This was before the time when there
errant, the only virtue expected from his family were any wheel vehicles in our mountain gorges.,by the old count. His mind would have been Fields, irrigated by a pretty stream, and a pleassuperior had it been educated. He was the true ant grove reached almost the windows of the
hero for La Vendee, and I liked him. At the house on the side from  the road.  A double
time I speak of; he was in love, without his flight of steps led into the garden. All betofather's consent, with a young person of rare kened wealth and simplicity.
beauty, whom he afterward married, and who    When I was a child the family was composed
was beautiful enough to, be the heroine of many of the father, who had been in old times the prinromances.  She was the daughter of a general cipal steward of the Abby of Cluny: he wore
who had recently been famous, and had con- habitually the dress of his profession-a coat of
tributed much to the pacification of La Vendee. white cloth, with long skirts, gaiters of the same
Bonaparte had exiled him to an estate he pos- color, reaching to the knee; a mother and twensessed in Burgund,'.the castle of Cormantin, ty children, all of whom, at the beginning of the
the splendid rsience of Marshal d'Uxelles. century, were alive.  A comfortable income,
This place was eight leagues from Cormantin. and kind dispositions made each of the sons disThe young lover had a beautiful Arab horse tinguished. Some of the daughters were marnamed Eclipse, which must have cost half of his ried, and came occasionally with their children
fortune. When his father had finished his after- to visit the old nest, which then became filled
supper game, which the young man always with activity and noise. Four girls had not
played with him, he would escape, saddle his married, and lived with the father, mother, and
horse himself, lest the secret of his absence should brothers.  These young women were very inbe revealed by some of the servants; and hasten timate with my mother. Though brought up
to Cormantin through the dark mountain roads. in the country, family tradition, and association
He would fasten the horse to one of the park- with their brothers, who brought every year the
rails, hurry beneath the shadow of the walls, to aroma of the society of Paris and Lyons home,
look on his mistress, to win one glance from her, had made them polished, and had given them
to snatch a flower thrown from the window, and the air and manner of the higher classes. They
amid the wind and snow which often hid both united the most aristocratic beauty, ideas, and
words and sighs. He then would leap over the language with rural simplicity; one might have
inclosure and hurry back so fast as to reach the fancied them to have been born in courts. The
castle of Pierre-clos, before dawn. At seven youngest of this family yet lives, and at an ado'clock he would be in the drawing-room, vanced age has preserved the susceptibility and
having thus passed over sixteen leagues on one grace of youth. I have often observed that a
horse, between the rising of the sun and moon, good heart is one of the great supports of life.
and for the purpose of suffering one sigh of his Love does not only create but preserve: hatred,
heart to evaporate. I have often met him my- on the contrary, gnaws and destroys. Madeself as I was returning home during the delicious moiselle Couronne (her name) to me is a record
autumn nights, riding so rapidly that the feet of engraven on my heart, recalling my mother
his noble white horse made fire fly from the road. and sisters, as they used to wander through the
Such deep love deserved reward. The old garden of Bussieres, admiring the plants they
count having been informed by a game-keeper loved so well to cultivate.
of his son's nocturnal expeditions, forgave him a    One of the sons, M. de Vaudran, a man of
passion, which had so much beauty to excuse it. great merit, about that time returned to the
They were married. The young Countess Ida paternal roof. He used to talk with my father
de Pierre-clos,celebrated through the whole coun- on the philosophy of the Revolution, which he
try for her beauty and talent, made the castle of loved for its reforms, and hated for its excesses.
Cormantin the home of art and pleasure. I be- It had deprived him of the pleasant life he led
came one of her husband's most intimate friends, as secretary-in-chief to jI. de Villeuil. Being
being a constant guest at her beautiful home. unoccupied at Bussieres, and having saved no
and passed such happy hours there during my part of his fortune but his books, he taught me
youth, that the castle which is now the property to write. To him I am indebted for being able
of others is at once sad and dear to me.     to trace thought legibly, and even for the faculty
of impressing on the external something of the
XLIII.                    light and tenor of my thought. I think of the
Another family in the neighborhood which hand which taught my own its skill, as often as
was yet dearer to us, was very intimate with I trace a harmonious line.
us. The Bruys had sometime before been made
illustrious in the literary history of the world, by              XLIV.
the young poet Leon Bruys, to whom I dedicated    I often accompanied my mother to the neigh.
pot long since my Recollections. In real life we boring houses. The melancholy which filled
sometimes find families which even romance my heart forbade me to enjoy society as I used
would not dare to invent. The Bruys were of to do.
that kind, and were linked to us by so many as-   I was fond of the friendship of the curate of
sociations of family and neighborhood, that they Bussieres, the history of wlom I have told-in
seemed almost like my own. They lived in a Les Confidenes, and became every day fonder
pleasant citizen-like house, near Bussieres, the of him. There is no stronger tie to join two
parish to which Milly belonged, on the banks of hearts than an uniformity of suffering.  Every
the high road which leads to the Saone. The day I used to pass two or three hours in his garhouse is old, and at the front door on the road den, and during the rest of the time wandered
yet exist three stone steps which used formerly through the mountain thickets, or amid the wilto enabl ladies to reach the height of their lows of the valley. I gradually imbibed from




ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.                                      29
the fresh air sufficient internal elasticity to lift was the second daughter of M. de Forbin,
up my heart from its burden of memory, and to Madame de M -, then a child, but already
express in verse the troubles which overcame pointed out by universal admiration. I saw all
me. At that time I wrote my Meditation to this, as it were, through a cloud. I did not either
Lord Byron; fragments of the poems of whom, dance or play, and joined no group to utter any
translated in various papers, reached Milly, and of those commonplaces, which are a poor apolseven or eight of the Meditations in the first ogy for conversation. I distressed my mother,
and second volumes of this book.*  When my and astonished every body, by my abstinence
father, who was fond of poetry, but could cor- from all that animated the house.
prehend no excellence but that of Racine, Boileau, and Voltaire, heard the notes which must                 XLVI.
have seemed strange indeed to disciplined ears,   Gladly then did I see spring return, to put an
he was amazed, and for a long time hesitated end to all this pleasure, by the pious observif he should find fault with or approve of the ances of Lent. To escape from Macon, I made
verses of his son. His heart was bold, but his a visit to another uncle, who lived in Upper Burmind was timid: he feared that family affection gundy, and was delighted thus to escape from
and pride would influence his judgment in such the gossips of a little town, who were anxious
an affair. When, though, he heard the Medita, to know every thing, and who explained matters
tion to Lord Byron, and that On the Valley as we they knew nothing of.
sat one evening by the hearth side, he felt his   I left for the Chateau of Ulcy, one of my
eyes grow moist and his heart full of joy. He grandfather's old houses, which my second uncle
said,'- I do not know if this be good or not, for had received.  I loved him better than any
I never heard any thing like it. I can form no other of the family. This was the Abbe Laopinion of it, having nothing to compare it with; martine, and I have spoken of him in my First
I will say, however, that it fills the ear, and Book-I told how nature made him a man of the
satisfies the heart."  Gradually he became used world and of liberal ideas, and how his birth
to the new notes of modern poetry, for he was made him a priest. I told how he had lived in
too sensible to let pride overcome his judgment. Paris and at court, passing his time while he
Whenever I had written one of my Meditations waited for episcopacy, in the saloons of the pretor Harmonies, but a few of which have been tiest and least austere of the beauties of the
printed, I read him the parts with which I was Court of Louis XV. How, though very indifbest pleased, and which did not reveal the bleed- ferent as to religion, he had persisted in wearing wounds of my heart. What was an appeal ing the dress of his order until he had nearly
to God by my heart I have scarcely ever finish- undergone a martyrdom, in his care rather for
ed, and rarely published. Though the public honor than piety.  I told how he hAd returned
should be an abstract being, before whom one from the galleys of Rochefort and the dungeons
should not blush as before a friend, there is a of Paris, and taken advantage of his freedom and
certain atmosphere of modesty, and a thin vail fortune, to shake off the bonds of the priesthood,
we are never willing entirely to tear aside.  to live alone, a philosophic agriculturalist, in
Thus in town and country I passed away forests where his trees and herds never called
autumn and winter. My mother and sisters, a him to account for apostasy.
sad poetry, and the divine fancies which radiated    His chateau, one of the largest and handsomfrom  my mother's brow  around  the whole est of the province, was situated in a labyrinth
hearth, enlightened me: I was downcast and of dark mountains, sombre gorges, and monotosad, but not enervated.  My soul was flooded nous woods, which form that highest table-land
with tears, and ennui added to my inspiration, of Burgundy, near Semur and Dijon. It was
One glance from my mother opened my heart, four or five leagues from any town. in a country
and spread before me a horizon of hope and stern and wild. It was the Siberia of France,
consolation.                                 and sad as the Polar regions, and inhabited only
by herdsmen and wood-cutters.  One might
~X L~v^.walk for hours without seeing aught but trees
I passed a tedious winter at Macon at home and herds. The very horizon was a uniform and
and in entertainments at other houses. Of this unvarying line, like the top of a glacis, straight
movement my mother's house was the centre, as a tightened cord. It was monotonous as the
for she was the very soul of virtue, grace, good country between Cairo and the Red Sea was
deeds and enjoyment. It, however, distressed me before the trees became ashes, and the rock,
more than the monotony of the summer. To lava.
gratify her I showed myself at all these reunions    On a narrow table-land where these gorges
Yet there was an atmosphere of isolation around meet, rises the Castle of Ulcy, the very picture
me. Strangers, young women, and young men of an abbey. Through the tall oaks its front of
shrank from  my silent reserve. People asked elegant balustrades was seen, and its fifteen
whence came this distaste for beauty, the world, large windows with iron and gilded balconies,
and society, which darkened the face of one appeared as if Italian architecture had been
young as I was. What was but a heart shrink- exiled to the land of the Druids. The peasants
ing within itself was attributed to pride. I used say this chateau was built for the stars, they
to meet women remarkable for their elegance alone being able to see it. It is half an hour's
and charmris, and many young people since be- walk from the village road. It was a magnificome famous for mind and beauty. Of these cent hermitage, a magnificent contrast between
character and place. Vast gardens had been
formed amid the woods. These were not and
* These Cotfidences appear to be intended by Lamar- could never be leveled, but followed the undulatine as a general preface to a collected edition of his  ouder theu
works.                                       tions of the ground, here ending and there




30                 ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.
reaching between the hills and gorges, covered    C'est moi qui, couche sous les voutes,
with rock, and half hidden by the fallen leaves.    Que ces arbres courbent sur toi,
Fourteen springs, dripping from the stern rocks,    Voyais, plus nombreux que ces gouttes,
had been gathered in long subterraneous reser-    Mes songes flotter devant moi.
voirs, and here and there fell in fountains into  L          t              
stone vases covered with green moss, and             hrizn tromp       e  t age
Ja~.~~~ 1 1           IX~ J      ~Brillait, comme on voit, le matin,
spread into pools of oval, square, round, and     L'aurore dorer le nua e
irregular forms. In one of them there was a          r            r e   c h e 
boat, which I loved to loosen and suffer myselfr en  h n.
to drift among the willows. This fountain with    Plus tard, battu par la tempete,
its eternal bubblings, is called that of the Beech,    Deplorant l'absence ou la mort,
from a tree a century old, which covers one-    Que de fois j'appuyai ma tte
eighth of an acre with its branches and shadow.    Sur le rocher d'oi ton flot sort!
This is the spring about which, after a long        ans mes mansachant mon  sa
absence I wrote, when I returned one day to see          reg    s ss t 
it, these verses                                  Je te regardals sans te voir,
it, these verses' 
it, these verses:                                Et, comme des gouttes d'orage,
Mes larmes troublaient ton miroir.
XL VII.
Mon oemur, pour exhaler sa peine,
LA SOURCE DANS LES BOIS.                 Ne s'en flait qu'a tes echos,
Source limpide et murmurante                   Car tes sanglots. chere fontaine,
Source limpide et murmurante
6Qui, do la fente du rocher,                   Sembla r6pondre a mes sanglots.
Qui, de la fente du rocher,
Jaillis en nappe transparente                  Et maintenant, je viens encore,
Sur l'herbe que tu vas coucher;                Mene par l'instinct d'autrefois,
Le marbre arrondi de Carrare,                  Ecouter ta chute sonore
Oui tu bouillonnais autrefois,                 Bruire a l'ombre des grands bois.
Laisse fuir ton flot qui s'egare               Mais les fugitives pensees
Sur l'humide tapis des bois.                   Ne suivent plus tes flots errans
Ton dauphin verdi par le lierre                Comme ces feuilles dispersees
Ne lance plus de ses naseaux,                  Que ton onde emporte aux torrens.
En jets ondoyans de lumiere,                   D'un monde qui les importune
L'orgueilleuse ecume des eaux.                 Elles reviennent a ta voix,
Tu n'as plus, pour temple et pour ombre,       Aux rayons muets de la lune
Que ces hetres majestueux                      Se recueillir au fond des bois.
Qui penchent leur trone vaste et sombre        Oubliant le fleuve ou t'entralne
Sur tes flots ddpouilles comme eux.            Ta course que rien ne suspend,
La feuille, que jaunit l'automne,              Je remonte de veine en veine
S'en detache et ride ton sein,                 Jusqu'a la main qui te repand.
Et la mousse verte couronne                    Je te vois, fille des nuages,
Les bords uses de ton bassin.                  Flottant en vagues de vapeurs,
Mais tu n'es pas lasse d'eclore,               Ruisseler avec les orages
Semblable a ces cceurs genereux                On distiller au sein des fleurs.
Oui, meconnus, s'ouvrent encore                Le roe altere te devore
Pour se repandre aux malheureux.               Dans l'abime ou grondent ses eaux;
Penche sur ta coupe brisee.                    Ou le gazon, par chaque pore,
Je vois tes flots ensevelis                    Boit goutte a goutte tes cristaux.
Filtrer comme une humble rosee                 Tu filtres, perle virginale,
Sur les cailloux que tu polis.                 Dans des creusets mysterieux,
J'entends la goutte harmonieuse                Jusqu'a ce que ton onde egale
Tomber, tomber, et retentir                    L'azur etincelant des cieux.
Comme une voix melodieuse                      Tu parais! le desert s'anime;
Qu'entrecoupe un tendre soupir.                Une haleine sort de tes eaux.
Les images de ma jeunesse                      Le vieux chene elargit sa cime
S'elevent avec cette voix:                     Pour t'ombrager de ses rameaux.
Elles nminondent de tristesse.                 Le jour flotte de feuille en feuille;
Et je me souviens d'autrefois.                 L'oiseau chante sur ton chemin,
Dans combien de soucis et d'aes,               Et l'homme a genoux te recueille
O toi que j'entends murmurer!
O toi que j'entends murmurer                   Dans l'or ou le creux de sa main.
N'ai-je pas cherche tes rivages                Et la feuille aux feuilles s'entasse,
Ou pour jouir ou pour pleurer?                E* fidele au doigt qui t'a dit:
A combien de scenes passees                    CJule ici pour l'oiseau qui passe!
Ton bruit reveur s'est-il mele?               Ton flot murmurant l'avertit.
Quelle de mes tristes pensees                  Et moi, tu m'attends pour me dire:
Avec tes flots n'as pas coule?                Vois ici la main de ton Dieu!
Qui, c'est moi que tu vis nagueres,            Ce prodige que ange admire,
Mes blonds cheveux livres au vent,             De sa sagesse n'est qu'un eu.
Irriter tes vagues legeres                     Ton recueillement, ton murmure
Faites pour la main d un enfant.               Semblent lui preparer mon coeur;




ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.                                          31
ULamour sacre de la nature                   either genius or instinct are required to govern
Est le premier hymne a l'auteur.             a household.
A chaque plainte de ton onde                   My uncle was the kindest of all the family,
Je sens retentir avec toi                    and also the most affectionate of them all. He
Je lne sais quelle voix profonde             was willing neither to wish, resist, nor command.
Je De sais quelle voix profonde                                                    o.
Qui l'annonce et le chante en moi.           He only wished to please.  All responsibility he
laid at the door of my father, or Madame Roger,
Mon coer grossi par mes pensees,             his prime minister. He loved me rather with
Comme tes flots dans ton bassin,             the tenderness of a friend than with the authorSent, sur mes lvres oppressees,             ty of an uncle, and I returned all his affection.
L'amour d6border de mon sein.                Kindness always had irresistible attraction to
La priere brulant d'eclore                   me, and effaced all other merits, either in man
S'echappe en rapides accents,                or woman.  Kindness is virtue itself.  We atEt je lui dis: Toi que j'adore               tempt to exert an influence on ourselves as long
ReCois ces larmes pour encens.               as we live, either by acts or advice, only to atAinsi me revoit ton rivare                  tain perfection, which certain beings receive at
Auijourd'hui, diffrent d'hier;              their very birth.  This gift had been ordained
Aujourd'hui,a      nt d'hier;      pae
Le cygne change de plumage,to my uncle, and his very faults seemed to be
La feuille tombe avec lhiver.                graces, being only the excess of the weakness of
BAfiento  tu me vera peht-ere          kindness.  Any one may fancy whether I was
Bient t tu me verras penttetre
Bientot tu me verras pt-etre           happy or not at his house.
Penchant sur toi mes cheveux blancs          happy or not t his house.
Penchant sur toi romes  deveux blane s         To see the sun rise above the oaks of the
Cuellie r un rameau de ton hetre            ^park, to open my window that I might hear the
Pour appuyer mes pas tremblants.             birds singing on the terrace, to read in my bed
Assis sur un bane de ta mousse,              old books from  the library, mingled with the
Sentant mes jours prets a tarir,             noises which arose from  the court and farmInstruit par ta pente si douce,              yard, to hear the bells of the old ram which led
Tes flots m'apprendront a mourir.            the flock of sheep; to get up to break my fast
En les voyant fuir goutte a goutte,          with my uncle on rich cream  and golden honey,
Et disparaitre flot a flot,                 to stroll with him  through the gardens and
Voila, me dirai-je, la route                 stables, to return at noon, and then to go out
Ou mes jours les suivront bientot            alone with my gun on my arm  when the sun
began to set or else to mount my wild, raggedCombien m'en reste-t-il encore?             maned horse and rush at a mad gallop through
Qu'importe?  Je vais ou tu cours;           the wooded gorges, where, to avoid the boughs,
Le soir pour nous touche ~ l'aurore            ~                                       " I I
Le  soir pour nous touche a l'auroe:         it was often necessary to lie down on the horse's
Coulez, o flots! coulez toujours!            neck  to wander thus without any object, someI loved this place, I loved this uncle, I loved times leaping over a ravine and a spring, or
those old servants who had known me when I it might be a family of kids startled by the
was a child, and to whom, my coming into their noise, to lose myself voluntarily for hour after
desert was, as it were, a recollection and ray hour to have the pleasure of finding my way
of pleasure in their hearts; a variety of their back to the chateau; to return at night to
mode of life, a motion in uniformity.  I attached  dine, talk, and read, to hear the stories of the
myself even to the immense herds, which a old abbe's life at Versailles and Paris during
shepherd, truly Homeric in character, named the old regime; to sink to sleep as he talked,
Jacques ruled as Eumeus did Ithaca, proud as and then to ascend the great staircase and
a king is of his people, and careful as a mother cross the long sonorous halls which led to my
is of her children.  The name of this man was rooms; to sink to sleep over the pages of some
OLD JACQUES.  I was especially fond of an old philosopher or poet, and in the morning to comWoman who ruled over the chateau and the mence just such another day, was the tenor
many servants within it, with the kindness and of my life during the most vapid, yet the most
the humanity which overcomes resistance, pre- passionless months of my youth. It was monasvents rivalry, and makes discipline pleasant, be- ticism, idle, and careless, without any recreation
cause the mistress is beloved.  She was an old but reading, dreaming, and friendship.  Trees
friend of my uncle, beloved by all the family; which yet grow shed their most delicious shade
sensible, active, disinterested, and willing to for me. Circumstances and long absence forced
intercede for all of us.  She was pretty, dressed me, after my uncle's death, to sell those trees,
pleasantly, half way as a servant, and half way which gave such shadows and murmurs.  May
after the fashion of the day.  She treated me as they be kind to other generations as they have
the future heir of the estate and as the spoiled been to me.
child. For me the most pleasant room was always   I used especially to frequent the great Fountprepared, and when I was expected, she made my ain of the Beech, to which the black-birds came,
uncle buy the best bred dogs and the handsomest and whom I never frightened.  These old trees
horses in the province. She is yet alive, and were so full of boughs, and on those boughs
sometimes writes to me when she hears that there were so many branches that the pool which
fate has treated me either well or ill. Rightly sparkled beneath them could scarcely be seen.
enough is it that we confide the management Why, alas! can we not, when we change our
of a household to women. Their gentle voice home, bear away with us all these pleasant
makes obedience pleasant; their feeble hand things.  Had it been possible I would never
makes authority light, and thus prevents dis- have parted with the one I have just described.
obedience and revolts.  We resist orders but   There I became, as it were, drunk with solirarely requests.  Where there is no mother tude. I never, however, became satiated with it




BOOK II.
sion of the home of his ancestors, and then came
I.                      to Beauvais to bid me adieu, and then set out
THIs life refreshed my heart, as the cold morn- for Rome, to join his mother and sister. His
ing air heals a burn on the hand. I lived thus departure made me very sad, and was one of
until autumn. The dull, voluptuous monotony the reasons why I soon after abandoned the
of my life was uninterrupted, except by a cor- tedious profession of a soldier in time of peace.
respondence with my intimate friend SALUCE.-  As, however, I was the first of his countrymen
SALUCE. Of him I have not yet spoken.        with whom he had been intimate, our friendship
There was in the household corps of the king, took deep hold of his heart. Memory of me,
in which my father made me serve a few years, thenceforth, became a part of his life. Our
a Breton, tie naive and affectionate cordiality correspondence was perpetual. We really lived
of whom, so characteristic of his noble race, at- together at the same time both at Rome and
tracted me to him. He.also felt a similar at- wherever I was. These letters would form a
traction toward me. We were both at that time volume, and would display in the young man a
of life when friendships are easily formed, and mingling of the Breton and Roman, one of those
people do not dispute about their feelings.  double natures, so curious to study, with a wild
At this time people see and are pleased with heroic heart, and an artistic and contemplative
each other. They talk and confide their thoughts fancy. This contrast attached me to him, for I
to each other. If they are similar, they isolate found in him a species of double of myself. All
themselves from the crowd, part with sorrow, great natures like his are double. Give a child
meet with pleasure, and search out each other two countries and you give him two natures.
anxiously ever after. Thus I attached myself Of this you will be able to form an opinion yourto this companion of my life.  We had the self, from the fragments of Saluce's letters which
same military and fraternal tastes, the same have, by chance, escaped the perils of time, and
sentiment of poetry, the same love of the little which are filed away in the old book-case in my
solitude permitted us in garrison life, whether uncle's library, where, when I read, I placed
at Paris or in the country. Our families were them.
similar, and so were our hereditary opinions.
He told me of the sea, and I talked of his mount-                 I
ains. After drill we used to take long walks   All thp above was necessary to'' lain one
together in the green, monotonous, and shadowy  of themost curious trips, and.  for- the
valleys of Picardy.  In the course of a few  strangest disappearance of nl          Think
months we were brothers. He knew all my what you please of it, call it    ss or devo.
secrets, and I his. I should not have been a stran- tion, it matters not. What is' doi. is done
ger in his family, had chance led me to their what is said is said.  These Confidences are
abode. He would have known my father, moth- confessions of friendship, and you will excuse
er, and sisters by the descriptions I had made them.
of them.
The father of Saluce had emigrated to En-                       III.
gland, with his son and infant daughter, after   About the last of July, as I was returning
the first reverses in La Vendee. His estates home on horseback, with my gun hung by its
had been confiscated. A grand-uncle, who be- bandolier, across the vast, solitary lawn in front
longed to the church, rich, and occupying an of my uncle's chateau, I was amazed to find a
important office in the Chancery of the Vatican, postillion from the neighboring village of Pont
had invited the father and family to Italy. They de Pany, who gave me a letter, written at the
had established themselves at Rome, and the village inn, and who asked for an answer.
uncle had died, bequeathing his palace, a villa   Without dismounting, I read the letter, writnear Albano, and a considerable sum of money, ten in Italian, with which, during my long resito his nephew. This nephew, the father of my dence at Rome, I had become familiar as with
friend, became completely denationalized, and my mother tongue. Thus it ran:
was a Roman. When the Bourbons returned    "Two ladies from Rome, having heard fom
to France, he had set out to demand his rights, Count Saluce de -     that his friend was at the
his country, and title, as a recompense for his Chateau of Urcy, beg him to come to the post!
exile. He had left his wife and son at Rome. house of Pont de Pany, where they wait fl
The son he brought to Paris, and placed in the him. Their names. are, perhaps, not unknoro
same corps with myself. Thence he had gone to him, but they are satisfied that the fact 
to Bretagne, regained some woods which had their being strangers and fugitives, will suffice
not been sold, and purchased at a low price, of to secure his interest and kindness.
the occupants, who looked upon themselves    "The Countess LIVIA DE -, and her niece,
merely as the depositories, the old manor of his the Princess REGINA C-."
fathers. Death, however, was near. While -
hunting with his old friends, his horse had fallen                I
and killed him. Saluce hurried to pay the last   I at once recognized the two names which so
respects to his father's remains, to take posses- often occurred in the letters of Saluce. I had




ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.                                      33
not, however, heard of their arrival in France, prives young women of her age of their beauty.
of their sojourn at a country inn, on a Burgun- Her form, arms, neck, and cheek, had that marble
dian cross-road, and of the fact of their being roundness, which in Canova's Psyche, denotes
fugitives. My uncle, the attention of whom, full vitality. She had all the aplomb of a dancer
had been attracted by the bells of the postillion's lifting her hand to play the castanets, nothing
horse, was at the door, and smiled with an air of bent, though all was souple and aerial. She
shrewdness at the amazement and attention with was dressed in black silk, the constant costume
which I read the letter, again and again.    at that time of Italian women, and her shoulders
"No mystery with me," said the smiling old were covered, neither by shawl nor cape, and
man.  "Every hero, in every romance, must the whole contour of her body might be seen.
have a confidant. I have in my time played The dress was very short, as if she had grown
both parts. I do not think, your postillion the since it was made, and exhibited feet rather
first who ever told, over a glass of wine, of a larger than French women usually have. Those
beautiful and wandering damsel. Tell me the feet had no shoes; but were at ease in two slipsecret, and I will be discreet, for to be so, is the pers of yellow morocco, embroided with steel
virtue of kindness."                         beads, and thread of different colors. Her neck
"I assure you, in this message there is no was entirely naked, and a cameo fastening a
secret which concerns me. You often find fault velvet band, increased its whiteness. Whether
with my melancholy, and know the cause of it. it was from the heat of the sun, or from  an
My heart can find no pleasure now."          emotion of modesty at the presence of a stranHe pointed with his finger to the immense ger, a rare occurrence in the life she had led, all
beech, beneath which, my horse stood.        her color seemed to have taken refuge in her
"You see that tree? it is older than you."   face.
"Certainly."                                 The color of her eyes was blue as the waters
"Well, I have cut it five times in twenty of Tivoli in their cave.  Her mouth, the full
years, and yet it has now more branches, than folds of which seemed to shut up all her soul,
when I came to Urcy!"                       was instinct with natural majesty and dignity,
"Ah!" said I; "that is a tree, while I am a which prompted her movement toward me.
man. Once, however, tear off the bark, and I can not describe it. A hood of silk, such as
exhaust the sap from out its heart, and it will women of the south wear on their heads, when
flourish no more."                           they travel, or at home. Large rents made by
We entered the house, chatting thus together. the motion of the coach, suffered her hair here
I gravely, and he gayly. I sent back a note by and there to escape in loose silken curls. Her
the postillion, saying, that the name of Saluce hair was blond, but of that tint of straw bronzed
was a talisman, and that I would be at Pont de by the summer heat of the Campagna-di-Roma,
Pany almost as soon as the messenger. I did the consequence both of the burning heats of
not change my dress or horse; but by a forest the south and of icy cold. The end of her hair
pa*  I galloped to Pany, thus abridging the was, like that of children, of another color, and
roabTy one half.                             was fastened at the crown by a red ribbon.
It formed a natural diadem.
V.                         Such was the Princess Regina as she ad*
I dismounted from  my horse.  An Italian vanced toward. me. I did not know whether
courier, in a magnificent livery, led me through there was more to dazzle than to touch in her
the purt-yard, into a little pavilion. There face. I was motionless with admiration.
~w S'wo or three rooms, for travelers often
-i  at this house, which was at the foot of
i't'Sombernan, which it was dangerous to   By her side, on a mattress on the floor, an(t
c31 at night. The courier announced me to a covered with a black tiger's skin, supporting
femme de chambre or nurse, in the costume of her head on her elbow, was an old woman, ir
the peasant women of Tivoli, the sight of which a cloak of black velvet.  Her face, though
made my heart beat, for it recalled Graziella. wrinkled and weary, yet preserved the traces
This woman, who was very old, opened the of great beauty. A nose modeled as if by the
door of the room of her mistresses.          sculptor's chisel, a mouth the lips of which,
I thought, as I saw the amazing beauty of the though distorted by age, preserved the line of
young princess, who rose to meet me, that my grace and power. Her teeth were fine, and
uncle was ri,'and that if the heart sometimes her black hair, slightly veined with white, and
creates b.    the latter is also capable of cre- divided by one straight line reaching from the
ata n. a a   eart in a person enveloped in its crown to the brow, was gathered in large
X   i must at least attempt to describe tresses about her ears. A languid and sick air, which I shall never forget.            was apparent in her complexion and in her
The room was large, with the common furni- voice. Such was the Countess Livia de -,ture of a village inn. It had two large beds the grandmother of the princess.
with sky-blue curtains, some carriage trunks,   As I entered the room, she arose on her elcovered with dust, on the carpet and chairs. bow with difficulty. With an anxious eye, she
One window looked out into a vast valley mead- watched the expression of her daughter's face,
ow, and the rays of the setting sun lit up the as if one were the thought the other the exroom and their faces with its dusky light, which pression of the scene.
seemed like a shower of gold on the tops of the
trees. This light fell like a towering diadem                    VII.
on the brow, and played on the shoulders of the   "Monsieur," said the young woman in Italian,
young princess. She was tall, lithe, and elastic, and in a slightly quivering voice, which, howwithout any of that pallor which in the north de- i:ver, was pearly and musical as if a person let
C




34                 ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OP MI YOUTH.
margarites fall into a basin, "I am the Princess exile.  Had not friendship and pity demanded
Regina, and there is my grandmother, the Count-  the most absolute devotion to their fate, the
ess Livia. I know that the name of your friend, wonderful beauty of Regina would not have
who to me is every thing-that the name of suffered me to hesitate.  Her look, her voice,
Saluce is a full introduction.  It unites our her smile, her tears, the whirlpool of attraction
hearts to yours. From his letters you know  in which she engulfed all who approached her,
our life, and from his we know yours.  He has made me think it bliss to devote myself at once
no secrets from us. We know each other there- to passion and love. I was, however, beyond
fore-though we never met before-as if I was love::her glance had absorbed my will, and I
Saluce and you, myself. Let us then omit all entered madly into this atmosphere of light,
compliments," said she, approaching me kind- languor, fire, tears, melancholy, and splendor
ly, as if she had been my sister, and taking my which hung around this enchantress of twenty
hand in her own trembling fingers.  "Let us years of age. I would have followed her blindin an hour be friends, as intimate as we would ly, as the leaf follows the wind, a friend, a
be in two years.  What is the use of time," saviour, aflatterer, a martyr, a voluntary victim.
said she, with an impatient gesture, in which I would have done any thing she asked except
all the energy of her will was apparent, "what become her lover.
is the use of time but to love the sooner!"     This she wished and asked me to be.
As she spoke she grew red as charcoal on   I dined with the two strangers, and stood for
which a breath has reanimated an expiring ea yet longer time on the lawn beneath the winspark.  I smiled and bowed, muttering some- dow, which was lighted up by the moon, talking
thing about happiness, devotion, disposition to in a low tone with Regina about her love and
be useful to Saluce, and assurances that she my unfortunate friend.  Her grandmother, sick
might look on me as a friend. The old lady by and sleeping on the bed, sighed in the dark at
gestures assented to all her grand-daughter and the prospect of dying in a strange land, and at
I said. Regina sate on the mattress at her feet, the idea that her grand-daughter would be exand I sate in a chair at a short distance from  posed to the perils of exile or the tyranny which
them.                                          sought to oppress her heart. I consoled her by
stating that I hoped Saluce would soon be reVIII. Jleased, and by promising every attention to their
"Well," said Regina, lifting up her tearful temporary wants.  We talked over various mateyes, and looking into my face as if to question ters without deciding on any, and I induced
or to soothe me. In the first place, however, them to remain all the morning of the next day
interrupting herself as if she had committed a at Pont de Pany, to enable the countess to remistake, she said, "I forgot, I have a letter for cover her strength.  I promised to come on the
you, which I did not give you."                next evening to receive their orders, and to
As she spoke, she took from  her bosom  a accompany them whithersoever they might wish
lettqr folded like a heart, and gave it to me yet to go. When they heard me use the language
warm with the heat of her dress.  The note of their own country, which I had learned at
Has not sealed, I opened it, recognized the hand Rome, they fancied themselves again in their
of Saluce, and read:                           native land. I bade them adieu, and with my
eyes tearful, the sound of their voices in my ear,
" Prison of -, Rome.  and with a sad heart as I reascended the deep,
" The person who will hand you this is dearer dark gorges between Pont de Pany and the
to me than my life. I am a prisoner, but will Chateau of Urcy.  My uncle had been long
feel myself free if she be. I can refer her to no asleep.
one but yourself.  Conceal this treasure for me,                      x.
and act toward her as I would have done to one
you loved.                        SALUCE."       W\hen he awoke I told him of what had takern
place on the previous evening, and of my determI was not surprised at this letter or at its ination to devote myself to the two strangers.
date, for the last information which reached me He pretended to believe me, but I saw that he
from Saluce had led me to expect such a finale. did not fancy me disinterested as I really was.
I however uttered an exclamation rather of He, however, never became angry, for in his old
grief than of astonishment.                    age he had learned how vain it was to be severe.
"Alas!" said the old woman, "to save us he "Do what you please," said he, "there is the
has lost himself. Wait, though, his trial has key of my secretary. Be reasonable, but liberal
not yet come on, and I have friends among the with the money it contains. If you are in love,
judges. I doubt not but that justice will tri- time will cure you; if it be merely a friendship,
umph."                                         time will also have its effect on that. You are
"And love," said the young girl, kissing a very young to be the guardian of so young a
portrait set in a bracelet the countess wore, and woman as you describe the Italian.  Take care
which I recognized as a portrait of Saluce.    of your heart, for the heart is never so near
They then told me together, sometimes one awaking as when it sleeps."
taking up the thread of the other's discourse,   I renewed my protestations, having a perfect
and sometimes both speaking together, the re- horror of the very name of love. I showed him
sult of a passion, all the phases of which I al- some of the letters of Saluce, and described to
ready knew, having heard of them  from  the him the passion of those two hearts, as it were
letters of my friend.  L'he two strangers shed predestined for each other.
torrents of tears, and I could scarcely keep from    I see, though at this very late time, that I have
weeping myself. They finally asked my advice, not recorded their history. I will now do so, by
my recommendation, and my aid during their' the aid of Saluce's letters, which exist almost




ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.                                        35
entire in the great box of papers, I brought with linen of laundresses, and rags of the poor, drying
me from the library of t rcy.                  in the sun. At the end of the street were the
long shadows of the colonnade of St. Peter's, like
~X'~. ~the darkness of a forest of stone. Up heavenI have said that the father and mother of my ward was the globe of the cupola, painted on
friend had lived in Rome since the end of the the sky with its aerial balconies, and the baluswar in La Vendee.  They had a son and a trade beneath the cross, like a balcony of a
daughter, and were attracted to Rome by the palace of a god, were the characteristics of
possession of a palace and large but unproductive Rome.  If one of these doors opened as any
estates in the Abbruzzi. The son and daughter passed, and you glanced into the dwellings, you
were nearly of the same age; the latter was could see great court-yards, with the sun beating
called Clotilda. The brother and sister were as on the pavement, on the basins of the fountains,
like each other as twins. This likeness which or on the marble statues in the niches of the inwas often a source of pleasure and amusement to terior faqades: or, else, at the extremity of the
their parents, while they were young, ultimately yard, vast gardens, which, like that of the Vatibecame fatal to Saluce. I will tell how.       can, reached to the brick and mossy ramparts
of Rome.  Such was La Longara.
XI.
When Clotilda was twelve or thirteen years                        XII.
of age, she was placed by their parents in one    The convent which I often visited with Saluce
of the many convents of Rome, which the young was composed of a large, massive house, pierced
ladies of Italy never leave until the period of with seven or eight wide and grated windows,
their marriage.  This convent, which had been surrounded by a wall which had no outlet to
a vast monastic establishment, was reduced, by the street except by a little door. Behind this
the Revolution, to a place of refuge for a small old wreck of a monastery was seen a mass of
number of old and sick nuns.  They were but ruins, covered by parasitical vegetation, and some
three or four in number, and had charge of only walls yet erect, pierced with windows without
six or eight young girls of noble Roman families. casements, through which the sky might be
Of the pupils two only approached womanhood, seen.  An almost uncultivated garden extended
Clotilda and Regina, the others being children from the ruins of the old convent across a long
of seven or eight years of age.  Their age, and alley which previously had been paved, but now
the difference of country, amid the isolation nat- was filled with dry grass. From beneath the
urally arising from a few years among young  very walls another alley wound beneath the baswomen, attracted them together more closely, tions.  At each extremity there was the statue
and before long they formed one of those pas- of a saint, made green by the moisture of the
sionate affections which spring  up between mosses and creepers which hung on the wall.
young hearts when they exchange their first This was the constant walk of the nuns and
confidences.                                   young recluses of this ruined convent.  Toward
The convent was in the large and deserted the street one saw a long cloister: the roof of
part of the city, known as Longara, reaching which was supported by white marble.  This
from Trastavera to the back of the colonnade of cloister was, so to say, an avenue to a chapel
St. Peter's. It is an endless street, the buildings built of yellow stone, like that of Saint Peter at
fronting upon which are either monasteries, pa- Rome.  Two angels of black marble, half asleep
laces, or miserablehovels, once inhabited by many on the entablature of the portal, and reaching
poor families who were employed in duties con- out their arms as if to lift up a burden, held the
nected with the altars and sacristies of that great font. The doors of the cells of the nuns and of
Basilica, which is the capital of Christianity. At the two eldest pupils opened on the ground floor
the time I speak of, those houses seemed deserted, of the cloister.  A statue of the virgin giving
or inhabited by old and poor men and women. suck to her child surmounted a fountain fed
In passing down this street, the ancient splendor with water by the great Aqua Paolina, and day
of which may be understood, by a glance at the and night murmured beneath the arcades, filling
admirable church-doors, and the crumbling ar- solitude thus with the only sound of life which
chitecture of a few old palaces, one experiences interrupted silence.
a sensation rarely known in the north of Europe    Such was the nunnery inhabited by the two
-an Oriental silence, an illuminated melancholy, friends
a terror in the heart for which we can not account.
It was the contrast of a clear blue sky, reflected                  XIII.
on bright roofs and red tiles, in a solitude which    Though Clotilda was fourteen months older
gave day something of the terror and immensity than Regina, the development of body and mind
of night. I have often passed from one to the in young girls of the south, secluded as they
other end of this long avenue of houses, without, may be, effaced all difference between them.
even at mid-day, seeing a single person or hear- Their thoughts and their sentiments were equal,
ing a sound but that of my own steps.  A few  as the elevation of their brows.  Scarcely had
whining cats would pursue each other across the they passed a few weeks together, than they
street from one roof to another; an old mule, exchanged ideas with each other, as two sisters
loose, though saddled, eating the grass between  who had sucked the same milk would have done.
the portals of a palace.  Sometimes, too, the Their families, without being intimate were acnaked arm of an invisible woman would push quainted, and met in the same coterie, in the
open one of the blinds of a window, all which salons and drawing-rooms of the same cardinals
were uniformly closed, and then pull it to, and Roman princes. When the mother of Saluce
silently on the drowsy quiet; long cords also came to visit the countess she also asked for
reaching from one window to another with the I Regina.  When the grandmother of Regina,




36                 ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.
the Countess Livla, came to pass a few hours that in most convents.  Her father, her mother,
with the superior and her grand-daughter she and a well-instructed governess, brought by
never failed to ask for the young Frenchwo- them from England to Rome, had taught her
man. Thus they gradually grew  to consider all that enters into the composition of an educathemselves as parts of the same family.  Their tion at Paris or London.  She had studied hisattachment increased.  All seemed indivisible, tory, and learned the principles of art, and had
their childhood, youth, and conventual education. read. in fragments, the great poets of antiquity.
Without any study but use, she spoke French,
XIV.                       Spanish, and Italian, and at her father's house
By the description of Regina at nineteen, it had listened to serious conversations of the great
may be seen what she was at fourteen years of men of each of these nations.  Conversations of
age. I never saw Clotilda, and know nothing this kind children seem not to hear, yet they
of her, except from descriptions often made of do not forget them. Even the French emigres
her face by her brother, to whom I learn she seemed daring innovators, to the manners and
bore a wonderful resemblance.  He used to ideas of cloistered Italy.  Though Clotilda was
paint her as a young girl more Italian even than as pious as her mother, young girl as she was,
Regina herself, with black eyes, a pale face, she soared far above the puerility of the devowith silken and smooth hair, and a pensive and tions of the cloister.
serious expression, which betokened a maturity    She hadtaken to the cloister a few well-sein advance of her age, sad without sorrow, like lected books of education, which the nuns, withthe shadow of a statue falling on a tomb in the out knowing their nature, had suffered her tQ
Vatican.  Her glance overpowered all it fell retain, with which she studied or amused herupon, and her tongue engraved all she had im- self, so as to avoid the idleness and gossipings of
agined or dreamed of. So to say, she inscribed a world so perfectly without an idea.  Her exherself on the memory of those who had seen her ample and conversation improved Regina far
once, as if a tnagic power resided in her girlish more than the stupid lessons of the nuns, who
heart. The magic was not, however, that of terror were as ignorant as white-headed children.
but of attraction.  She was adored and admired.   Clotilda had experienced toward Regina, at
the first glance, an inclination similar to that
XV.                       which attracted the young Frenchwoman to
She had already been some months in the her. The wonderful beauty of the young Italian
monastery, when Regina was brought thither had been like a ray of light falling on the walls
by her grandmother to finish her education. of her cell.- Her heart had followed her eyes.
Regina, who till then had been petted and spoil- Beauty, especially when it partakes of that mysed by her grandmother, and who was terrified tery we call charming, rushes from a woman's
at the age and the costume of the nuns, natu- brow not alone into the heart of man. It affects,
rally became passionately fond of Clotilda, her though differently, even the hearts of the same
sole companion.  The distractions of women's sex. In man it produces love: in woman, adstudies, in a half-deserted cloister of Italy, were miration and attraction.  Beauty is an unachot likely to occupy a great deal of the minds Fountable endowment, having magic power; no
of two young girls of their age. All know what, human being can escape its influence.  To be
at that time, was the tenor of life in such con- beautiful is to be powerful.
vents.  The religious ceremonies were better   These two young girls experienced toward
calculated to fanaticize the senses, than to make each other, the attraction of beauty, though in a
the mind pious. Pictures, flowers, and music very different manner.  This very diversity or
filled the chapel; processions, rosaries without contradiction of beauty, which in Clotilda was
end and idea, infantine practices, austere cos- radiating and concentrated. and explosive, so
tumes, external piety, and meditations set out to say, in Regina, was, perhaps, though they
for every particular idea; a little music and did not know the reason, one of the causes of
some poetry, taught the pupils by mistresses attraction to each other. Contrasts attract from
connected with the house; long walks around their very completeness.  Their friendship was
the narrow cloister; solitude, to which the nov- the only sentiment of their solitude. The other
ices were subjected; a few visits from dignita- girls of the convent were mere children, too
ries of the church; sermons from a few famous young, and the nuns were too old, and too much
preachers at Lent or Advent; monotonous idle- occupied in the minutice of religious observances,
ness, impotence, vanity, and a sanctification of to permit themselves to be at all loved by these
pious sensualism, made up the sum of the mys- two young girls of fourteen and fifteen years of
tical and pious religious education of Italy and age.  They were forced to have recourse only
Spain at that time.  No novitiate was better to each other, and in their own hearts were glad
calculated to destroy all faculties except one-  of it; for, their friendship was jealous.  They
imagination, and to exaggerate that.  Such, at would have been unhappy had there been any
that time, was female education in Spain and rivalry of love.
Italy.  The usual results, therefore, of female                    X
education at that time were pious habits and idle
thoughts, with a passionate heart.  Such were    They did not sleep in the dormitory with the
these Orientals of Europe, who abandoned the younger pupils, but occupied two little cells
puerility and ignorance of convents for the vo- which had been left unoccupied since the death
luptuousness and liberty of the great world.   of two old nuns.  They were separated only by
Clotilda, before she entered this convent, on a wall, and were lighted by the terrace on the
account of her father's absence and the sickness cloister, so that when at night the keys were
and ill health of her mother, had received a good taken away by the Superior, Clotilda and Regina
education in her father's house, far superior to had only to open the window, and make, bare.




ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.                                      37
footed, three steps, to be able to go out together, the terrace, making them look like caryatides
and sit on the terrace continuing all night the of white marble grouped on the balcony of a
dreams, studies, and reveries which had occupied  Roman villa upon which the dew and the moonthem during the day.                         beams fell all night leng.
The rules of the house obliged them to retire    The poetry of these nights must have struck
at eight o'clock, even in the summer, when the them  deeply, for Regina, three or four years
moon and stars make the firmament yet more afterward, and long after the death of Clotilda,
beautiful, and at the hour when the refreshing never ceased to recall them, and to describe
breeze, which passes down the gorges of Tus- them to me in language a thousand times more
culum, Lorcia, and the Tiber, make the arrowy sonorous and impressed with the emanations of
cypresses quiver.                            earth, air, and sky than mine is.
This was exactly the hour when the two young
friends began to awaken, after recovering from                   XVIII.
the oppression of the burning hours; and when    Perhaps these nocturnal and secret conversathey found it necessary to inhale at once the in- tions with her friend, impressed her tle more
fluence of the quivering leaves, the murmur of deeply, because they became the occasion and
the fountains, and those dreamy dialogues, which, origin of her love and destiny.
by reflection, double life.                     One may imagine that the two secluded girls
Therefore; almost every evening, as soon as often thought of their own families.  Of her
the nuns, secluded in their cells, had finished family: Regina knew no one but her grandtheir last ten rosaries, and put out the lamp on mother, in the palace of whom she had been
their prie Dieu, one of the friends would rise, brought up, at —; her nurse, her guardian,
without noise, silently push open her window, Prince -, and a few abbati or monsignori,
and go to the cell, where her friend awaited her. kinsmen, and friends, who visited, at Rome or
There they would sit on the side of the bed, or -, the Countess Livia.  Clotilda, however,
on the window-sill, looking out on the black had a father and mother, and above all, a brother,
walls, the dark shadows of which fell on the who had been the companion and friend of her
ground beneath the vaulted sky, with the eternal childhood, and now was absent in his native
noise of the fountain ringing in their ears in the country.  She adored this brother, and spoke
lcwer cloister, and suffering the bells of the constantly of him to her friend, who never beneighboring churches to sound unnoticed.      came wearied of speaking of him; but wished
to know his age, appearance, the character of
XVII.                     his face, &c. She even wished to inquire about
Why did they whisper thus?  They talked the sound of his voice, and appearance of his
of their increasing love to each other, of the gestures.
constant necessity they felt for meeting, of their   Clotilda used to say, " There is no use in my
chagrin, when the rules of the convent and the making. over and over again, a portrait of him.
occupations of the day separated them, of the Look at me! Nature never made two beings
complete similarity of the impressions which so perfectly alike, as my brother and myself.
sprang up in their minds at every idea suggest- We were born of the same mother, and nursed
ed by their studies, poetry, and especially music, at the same bosom, almost at the same time.
which gave them  more pleasure than poetry, We grew up amid the same thoughts of exile and
because the vague notes uttered more of the in- misfortune, which overshadowed our minds; and
finite and passionate than words could do; of first saw light on the shores and amid the tempests
the heaven and stars, of the tall cypress trees, of the same Ocean. We wandered together amid
which turned slowly the points of their shadows the same scenes, along the same waves, looking
toward them, like needles, which measure time for and wandering from the same asylums. We
on the sand; of the free fields, of deserts peo- then lived together amid the same villas and
pled with ruins, of solitudes vailed with green palaces of Rome, which became, so to say, our
oaks, and of murmuring cascades concealed by third country.. We there grew, like two plants,
the great walls behind the ramparts of Rome, transported to the south; and body, heart, and
of the villas where they had passed their in- soul, were matured by your beautiful sun. Here
fancy, which were at Albano and Frascati; we fed together on our remote fancies, on the
of the pleasure they anticipated at some future country we first remembered, and our first misday of meeting, when the vintagers of Itri and fortunes; so that we have preserved something
Fondi danced at the cross-roads, and sank to of the icy British air amid the radiance of Italy.
sleep to the sound of the Neapolitan airs of the Romans in sentiments, our hearts are Breton;
Peferari. Finally they would talk of their fam- warm as our new and stern as our old abode, we
ilies, of their relations, nurses, and countries are dreamy as these nights are: grave as our
separated from each other, of storms and snow, storms.  Such are my brother and myself, in.
of England and Bretagne, of chateaus surround- ternally; externally-or, rather, so it was when
ed by gothic towers, so different from the exter- we left Bretagne-had he put on my dress, or I
nal calmness and open villas of the hills of his, our own mother would not have known us
Rome.'  apart.  I am  his shadow, and to me he is a
These conversations never became tiresome mirror. By this time he must have changed.
and were, so to say, accompanied by the monot- Oh, how delighted should I be to see him again,
ous murmur and bell-like tinkling of the Aqua on his noble black horse, and with the arms he
Paolina, which dripped into the marble basin, described to me, entering on his career of arms,
Their faces were turned toward each other, and which he was so proud to describe to me!"
their arms would clasp each other's knees: the    "How delighted, too," said Regina, "should
long tresses which adorned both their heads I be to see him. It seems to me some day I
being mingled by the wind which blew over shall: and will love him, as I love you; speak to




38                 ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.
him, as I do to you, and have no more apprehen- sorrow in a soul, every sentiment of which was
sion than I do now!"                          passion, really placed her in danger. Her grandThe two friends would then enlock each other, mother was forced to send her to Naples, to diand laugh. in a low tone, lest the sound of their vert her thoughts by new scenes, and by changvoices should awaken the nuns.                 ing spectacles.  She saw the image of Clotilda.
constantly between nature and herself.  Her
XIX.                      pall lay upon the land and sea.  The whole
Regina long afterward told me that the fact earth contains nothing but what is in our minds.
was that, adoring Clotilda, she loved two beings All were for a long'time very uneasy about her.
before she was aware of it, so completely were The force of her vitality, however, and her youth
Clotilda and her brother confounded in her fancy, could not be entirely dried up, and gradually
that it was impossible for her to separate them. regained their power.  She lived and grew
Thus it is when a lovely being revels in one beautiful, even in the mourning she insisted on
fancy, the influence continues ever long on the wearing, as if for the loss of a sister.  She put
heart.  Regina doubled her friend to love her on, as if as marks of tenderness, all the trinkets,
the better in her brother, even in his absence. hair, and articles of dress which Clotilda had
I could have had no faith in this duplex love, given her during their long and intimate conand should have fancied it a mere poetic con- vent friendship.  Necklaces, rings, bracelets,
ception, had I not myself seen it in the eyes of ear-rings, clasps for her belt and hair, pins,
Regina,                                        pearls, hair, all reminded her of Clotilda. Like
a talisman, she had fastened this dear name to
XX.                       her rosary.  She breathed it in her prayers, as
Thus two years rolled over the heads of the an idolatrous invocation to some deified mortal,
two solitary friends, without any variation in who had appeared on earth at the commencetheir life, except a constantly increasing tender- ment of her pilgrimage, and yet exerted an inness toward each other, developing their souls, fluence on her destiny.  Clotilda was the conand ripening their beauty.  Clotilda was nearly stant sursum  cordia of this young girl.  Her
eighteen and Regina sixteen.  The death of grandmother, simple as good, made to this caClotilda's mother, after a long and lingering  price of sorrow, to this idolatry, no opposition,
illness, plunged the young girl into a slow and and even mingled in it, having masses said by
silent grief, which wasted her away in Regina's hundreds in every chapel for the repose of the
arms.  The news of the death of her father, and young French girl, over the tomb of whom no
the compulsory and prolonged absence of -her mother or sister had wept.
brother, destroyed a life which was concentrated                   X
in but three thoughts, and was attached to earth
only by one root.  This, too, was about to be    All at once Regina changed her tone, and
torn away. It was stated that Regina was about appeared, it is hard to say why, to be calm at
to leave the convent to be betrothed to the Prin- heart, and half consoled.  She explained to me
cipe di -, a friend and kinsman of her guard- how this phenomenon came to pass.  In Italy it
ian.                                           was called a miracle of " our lady of Pausilippo,"
The Countess Livia determined to take her by herself and the other Italians.  "One even.
grand-daughter from the convent, and keep her ing," said she, " I left my carriage when I heard
for a time at her villa of F-. With difficulty the bell which, from the little chapel at Paucould the two friends tear themselves apart. silippo, called the artisans to prayers.  My
Regina protested to her grandmother that she grandmother and myself entered the chapel.
preferred to make herself a nun for the rest of Never before had I been so sad. I was discourher life, rather than leave her sick friend for so aged at living in a wbrld with which I had no
long a time. She was promised that her ab- sympathy, and said,'What to me is this counsence should not be long, and that the marriage try, beautiful as it is? what to me are the sea,
would be postponed two or three years.  The the monuments, theatres, glances of the crowd,
Countess Livia bore her away almost by force, and dries of admiration when I appear in pubwith the assistance of her nurse and servants. lie?  She is no longer present to share in all
The doors of the convent closed on poor Clotilda, this with me and for me. The earth is void
and her cell appeared dark as night. The tomb since she is here no more.' I wept before the
was anticipated, and silence became constant as Holy Sacrament, concealing my tears as well as
soon as the ray of light and life which had ani- I could from my grandmother.
mated it was withdrawn. Early in November   "Just then I heard not in idea but in fact, a
her languor increased; a fever attacked her; voice saying,'Regina you dream, she is here yet.
her cheeks, for the first time, became flushed, Did she not tell you, she had a brother, another
as the autumn leaves grow red upon the cherry- self, so like her in mind and feature that her mother
trees.  She died, calling on her friend and her could not tell them apart?  Her brother if so
brother. I have seen her tomb, with the French like her, will love you as she did, and as no
inscription, exiled even in death, surrounded by brother ever loved a sister before.  Her brother, 
those of other novices and nuns of Rome.       in the heart of whom  if you never meet, yet
lives, and in his mind are the predilections you
XXI.                       regret in her.'
The friends of Regina wished to spare her   "This idea," said Regina, "entered my soul
this sad and painful spectacle, and she was not rapidly as a ray of light enters a dark room
informed of what had taken place until after all when the blinds are opened.  It awoke in me a
was over.  She gave utterance to her grief in thousand things 1 thought dead and buried with
sobs and tears, which made people entertain Clotilda. This seemed to me a miracle vouchfear even of her life.  The explosion of her first safed to the intercession of my friend, and I




ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.                                         39
knelt again to thank God and his angels for the herself forgot that she was not free. It was
apparition of Clotilda's brother.  It was, so to determined that the young Princess -    should
say, an apparition of my tenderness under an- travel with her grandmother to Sienna, Florence.
other form, and the sight of another being by Naples, and Sicily, during the summer, and
whom I hoped to be loved, and to whom I would that in the winter she would conclude her edube devoted as I had been to another.           cation in the same convent of Longara, where
"My grandmother, when she saw me thus her childhood had been passed.  Thither her
radiant and transformed, asked me what change grandmother also would go, to avoid a separation
had come over my mind. I did not tell her of from  her idol, whom  she could not introduce
my dream, but that I had prayed, and that God's into society as long as she was separate from
angels had consoled me.  We went that night her husband.
to the sea-shore at Bagnoli, on the other side of    Thus things went on for a year.
the grotto of Pausilippo, and after to the theatre
of San Carlo.  Here every murmur of the wave,                      XXIV.
there every note of music, seemed to bring back    All that I have said here of Regina, I heard
the apparition, the voice, and the whisperings long afterward from  her. It was, however,
of the brother of her 1 loved so much.  What necessary to account for the unexpected visit I
would I not have given to see him?  I looked had received in the forests of Burgundy, and
from box to box, and in the countless throng  also to explain the letters of Saluce, which I had
around me in the galleries and boxes, for a preserved and copied.  These letters give, as it
single face to recall Clotilda's.  Had I seen were, the reverse and the subsequent story of
him, I am sure I should have shouted with joy.  this passion, sprung from a dream, but which,
"We left Naples, and my grandmother,took unfortunately, became a terrible reality. I here
me by way of San Grenonimo to her old castle transcribe the letters of Saluce literally, supat the foot of the Abbruzzi.  I was amazed to pressing only here and there a few passages,
find my guardian there with the Prince -- and  and correcting the style, not, however, so as to
several lawyers apparently waiting for me. An strip them of truth, or exaggerate their passion.
air of joyous mystery filled the old house.  At At that time Saluce wrote better than any of
night secret conferences took place between my us, when he pleased to reflect, or was excited.
guardian and my grandmother.  She suffered  His half English, half Italian education, gave
and wept much, though she feigned pleasure a foreign accent and a great expression to him,
and satisfaction.  I have not courage to tell you not often found in those who are masters of but
the rest."                                     one language.
XLETTER I.  (From Rome.)
XXI.                            ~    ~    ~ I I,
These circumstances to which Regina always   WERE you here, nothing would wanting. To
disliked to refer, even in the many conversations comprehend Rome two souls are wanted and I
she had subsequently with me, were those of have but one, and know not if I will have another
her marriage with the prince, half from per- for a long time.  I am afraid my own has been
suasion and half from force.  The prince was borne away like that of Ariosto's hero; and that
almost an old man; he was a kinsman of the instead of finding refuge in a star, it has fled to
Countess Livia, and had a large fortune. Re- the two brightest eyes that ever shone on earth
gina then must have herself been wealthy, as -Ohime! (an expression of Italian languor).
she had no male relations.  The union o these  Ohime! truly did my poor sister describe her.
two relations, though of such unequal ages, Iiscro me! Povero me! All the interjections of
would place immense property in possession of the Trastevero would not express what I feel.
the heirs of the Prince and Regina.  The grand- You know I am not very poetical ordinarily, yet
mother, who detested the prince, and feared the to-night I am more so even than yourself, for inguardian, was at once violent and feeble, like stead of going to bed I am writing. Mythought
old women, who have their passions in life, re- is not my own, neither is it with that beautiful
sisted for a long time, and then consented to poem of Guido's, which looks down on me, or
yield up her grand-daughter only on condition rather looks at heaven from that very gallery in
that the marriage should be a mere act of obe- which my uncle lived, and in which he heaped
dience, a kind of future promise, made in the up his treasures of art.  The poem I saw to-day
presence of a priest and a notary, but which is alive, lives, walks, talks, and thinks. What
would leave Regina at liberty yet for three a life, what a step, too, it has!  How the bosom
years.  Besides, in thus blindly consenting to heaves!  What melody hangs on the lips, and
go with her to the Abbruzzi, she deprived her- what transparent tears glitter in its eyes. Guide
self of all means of moral resistence and all Reni, you were a great dreamer! but Nature
means of resisting the marriage. She was sur- has more beautiful fancies.
rounded by confidants of the prince and of the    You must think me mad, and in love with
guardian.  One hour afterward the marriage some picture of Raffaello, with some Galatea of
took place.  The prince and guardian left, in the Farnesa, with some heroine in the English
obedience to their promise, -for Rome; Regina romances on my table.  You may think I make,
remaining in the house of her grandmother as as we used to, a philter of caprices, to intoxicate
a person too young as yet to assume a position myself, and purpose afterward to crush the cup,
as mistress of the establishment of her husband. or to throw my ring into the sea, like that old
Her extreme youth was a pretext for account- victim of ennui at Samos.  This is not so. No,
ing, in the eyes of Rome, for the reserve of the no, no! It is a woman.  And who is she? ask
old Prince.  Regina, therefore, only chang- you. Who is she? that is she! as we used to
ed her name.  After the lapse of a few days she say in the mosaic language we spoke at Paris




40                ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.
The she is the person of whom my sister spoke in Indeed it seems to me as long; and that the im.
all her letters, who annoyed me so bf iterations age before my eyes now, has always been there.
of her name and perfections.  She whom I call Well just half a day and half a night ago. Oh,
my second sister, so identified was she with Time you have no existence, you are but a void
Clotilda. You know now whom I mean. Now, of that, which as yet is not, but which must be.
my friend, even my sister was too blind to see Fill up that void time will cease to be: how can
her friend's charms.                         that be, which can be prepared with nothing?
She puts me in mind of a verse of yours, the   At two in the afternoon, therefore, through a
meaning of which only I recall.               burning sun, which made me stick as closely as
" Her very shadow is more electrical than the possible to the walls, and drove every human
body of another."                            being from the streets, I went to ring at the
I keep you, however, too long in suspense. door of the convent. The door opened, as if of
The reason is I have the fever.  "Take and itself, and I went down an alley which termin.
read," as Talma said.                        ated at the door into the yard. No one was
I did not know what had become of that won- visible, all apparently being asleep in their cells,
derful child of whom she spoke so constantly, a sleepy woman in the tower above appeared to
up to the very day of her death. I fancied her have opened the door by means of a latch-cord.
blown by one of the four winds of the world far This solitude delighted me, a voice would have
from her nest, and had ceased to speak of her. broken my heart, and the interposition of any
I thought of the soul of my poor dear sister, form between the grave of my sister and myself
who died when none of us were by to assist or would have had a similar effect. Freely and in
to console her. I said to myself, every night peace I looked on the silent walls in which she
when I lay down in those vast old halls in which had lived, the pavements her feet had pressed,
we had played together, and which she had filled the alley of cypress she had counted so often as
with her beautiful voice. " I must take courage she thought of me, the fountain which bubbled
and look at the stone in the chapel where she is in the cloister, and to which she had listened for
buried. I must see the convent, the melancholy three years. The yard glowed in the sun, and
gardens, the cell, the horizon of cypress trees, between the interstices of the pavement started
brick, and stone, she gazed on so long, as she up threads of rank, yellow grass, so that it look.
thought of us, and which she described so well, ed like a campo santo abandoned to the unculti.
that I can see them with my eyes shut." Then vated vegetation of the south.
I would say, " Not to-day, I am not calm  and   The sound of my steps on the stone pavement
strong enough, or not good enough to approach attracted no one to this desert spot, and did not
that spot so closely."  Twice on my way from  induce any one to open their blinds. I did not
St. Peter's, I passed down La Longara, as if to know who to address, that I might speak to the
familiarize myself, if not with the idea, with the superior, and ask for some relic of my sister.
tomb and house. I lifted up my hand once to The portress, beyond doubt, was asleep, like
ring at the door of the little convent; I, how- all others in this dreary house. I became bold
ever, removed my hand, and left in haste, as if enough, while thus waiting for some motion or
I was afraid some one would see me, and come sound, to look at the little open gate of the
to open the door. You know, though, how weak cloister, at the fountain and the gardens, which
and childish our hearts become when we are were made animated by the sound of no spade,
alone. I let month after month pass without and to make a tour of the whole cloister.
going thither. I had the plan (I tell you I had   At last, at the place farthest from me, I saw
it, for it has left me since yesterday), to go to a great half-open door. It was that of the chap
Sicily, where an old friend of my father's, an el, of which my sister had often spoken to me.
Englishman, wished to see me. In all the palace I fancied that, beyond doubt, some nun, meditatI had no relic of Clotilda, not a lock of hair, a ing in the chapel, had left it open, that the sound
trinket, a ribbon, or a dress. All had been left of my steps would arouse her, and that she would
at the convent after her death. I could not inform me to whom to apply. I walked toward
leave home without taking some talismanic relic it, and as I passed the fountain dipped my hand in
of this angel. You know that I am not super- the basin whence, for so long a time, had come
stitious, like the children of my Breton country; the water which had refreshed the brow of Clotilbut I am, like them, faithful and affectionate. I da. In memory of her I drank it from my hand,
love in the relic, not the thing itself, but the pushed open the door, and entered the chapel,
thought. I am not sure that the thought does making its vault resound with my footsteps. I
not to a degree incorporate itself with the thing, fancied the noise would make one of them look
and communicate some secret virtue to it; an around. There was no one on any of the benches.
emanation of the absent being may impress on Their places were denoted by the books of pray.
the object given as a keepsake a continuity of ers left on the top shelves of their prie-Dieus.
presence, love, and protection. I may be wrong, A little altar, ornamented by artificial flowers,
but I will not pretend to be more superhuman in vases of marble painted with gold, two or
than I really am. In short, I sighed for the three devotional pictures, framed with black
real presence of my poor sister in my heart, wood, and hung on the whitewashed walls, a
around my neck, finger, and portfolio. I must balustrade of cypress separating the choir from
ask for some relic. I found courage in this the rest of the chapel, a pavement of large
wish, and went to the convent.               stones, on some of which were carved armorial
The clock of St. Peter's, however, has struck bearings, while on others there was but a simthree, and I annoy you. Never mind, I must ple cross, with a name and date, was all. Two
go on, for I can not sleep, and you need not read rays of the sun slanting through windows of a
unless you please.                           little dome above the altar, fell like two streams
I went thither then. When? A century ago. of water on the pavement next to the balustrade,




ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.                                      41
and made the inscription on one of the stones were fastened to her head by pins like daggers
glitter in my sight.  By the mingled light of with hilts of pearl. Her blonde hair glittered
day and the eternal taper, as you call it in your in the sun, like very plates of gold. Her counpoetry, I read the name of Clotilda, and the date tenance I will never attempt to paint, as it is inof her death. I cast myself forward to embrace describable. There was, too, around her features
the stone with my hands. The very sunlight in every tint and line of her face, in every exseemed, by its caresses, to seek to reanimate pression, an atmosphere or exhalation of soul,
her. Not until long after, until I had wept and youth, life, and splendor; such as is rarely seen
called on her name again and again, did I per- except as heated iron glitters amid the vapor of
ceive a difference between the stone on which I its furnace. This countenance, transfixed by
lay and the rest of the pavement. This was of light, so liquid was its carnation, became so
marble, and a bouquet of flowers, which had not completely confounded with the sunbeams, by its
yet lost their perfume, lay on it. I did not re- transparency and the white and rose of her brow
mark the difference between this homage and and cheek, that the sun could not be distinguished
that paid to the other graves, and I knelt, I know  from the woman; no one could say where the
not how long, with my elbows on the balustrade heavenly ray and the woman became disunited.
of the choir, and my face buried in my hands.   She was a very incarnation of light a transfiguYou know I am not what is called a devotee. ration of sunbeams into mortality, a shadow of
When, however, one kneels over the grave of a face encircled by light. Leave all that, howthe being we have loved the most on earth, ever: do not read it! She was what you dreamed
when a ray of the setting sun falls on one's brow, of, at the most passionate hour when woman had
and the problem of eternal separation or reunion filled your man's heart with inspiration. What you
arises in the mind, no appeal is made to reason, could never describe, what Raffaello, in his finest
but all, my friend, is explained by the heart. touches dimly pointed at, at the time when he
We love, weep, and confide in love and tears. was most human, and least mystic; a face beFrom tenderness all then become superstitious. tween the Virgin and La Fornarina-divine in
If without feeling they are without faith. I was its beauty, womanly in its love-with eyes which,
surrounded by a vision of immortality, in which should they ever glance at you, would draw your
I saw my sister, as it were, an emanation of the whole soul to your lips and eyes, and consume
rays on her grave, and spoke to her, as if she you with fire. Efface all this, too, for lightning
answered in the echo to my breath, amid the blinds and repels while her face takes possession
sonorous marble of the chapel.  How many of and attracts. It is not the thunderbolt I mean,
minutes or hours were passed thus?  I do not but the evaporation of a soul attracted to divinity.
know. I think I would be there now but for an.... Bah, I will break my pen! I efface all
occurrence I am about to describe.           these words?  I mean none of them. All this,
(Great God, though I have but begun, and however, is true: and more besides! Think,
have already written a volume, what will you though, as if I had said nothing.
think of my loquacity?  Think as you please.   I had time (if time exists with such an appaI must retrace, for my own sake, if not for yours, rition, and I think it does not), I had time to
the events of that hour, around which henceforth examine, with my internal and external vision,
every thought of my life must gravitate).    the charming figure which advanced carelessly,
I heard a faint sound of creaking hinges at with hanging arms and downcast eyes, toward
the door, and fancied it was the live Maria wind, me. The stone statues. in the niches behind the
which rises at sunset and vibrates amid the blinds altar were not more motionless than I.  I do
of deserted Rome. I did not turn back. I heard not think my breath moved my chest once while
the rustling against the wall of a female dress, I looked at her. I would have wished her ever to
and fancied the folds of the curtains rubbed approach, and never to have reached me. She
against the window. I did not move my head. seemed to be in possession of my very soul, and
I heard the sound of light footsteps which, how- that at any sound or motion she would disappear.
ever, were slow and measured, and seemed to   Whether she was too much absorbed by her
advance toward the bench of wood, the upper own thoughts, or that the beams which passed
shelf of which, beyond doubt, hid from the per- between her and me on the gold and marble of
son who came to pray, my head, as I bowed be- the altar, dazzled her eyes, she did not see me,
neath the balustrade of the choir. I passed my though but six feet from me. Without looking,
fingers over my eyes to wipe away my tears, I when she came to the stone she knelt down at
swept aside the hair which fell over my brow, my sister's tomb. She gently placed on it the
and I looked up, and turned toward the door large bouquet she bore, as if she feared even
whence I fancied I heardthe sound.          that the noise of the falling leaves would disturb
A young person of about sixteen years of age, the dead who slumbered there.  She remained
clad in black, like a cypress starting from a for a moment, motionless and silent, gently movmarble pavement, tall, lithe, and souple, with ing her lips, on which I fancied I distinguished
shoulders transparent through a covering of lace, the name of my poor Clotilda.
with round arms, and a form, undulating and   I can not tell you what passed in my mind,
half matured, making the silken vail, which sur- when I discovered the indescribable existence
rounded it, hang like waving moss from the white of a relationship of grief, between the vailed
marble of the shoulders of some statue in the and weeping figure of such a heavenly air, and
garden Pamphili, wa% before me.  The head myself. I saw some veneration of my sister
was a little advanced, the fingers clasped in united us. Can this, thought I, be that-Regina
front of her, holding one of those many colored to whom  Clotilda was so attached?  Clotilda,
bouquets, which the peasants of Albano sell in however, not long before her death, had written
Rome. making a very mosaic of flowers  Her to me that she had lost her Regina, who was
hair was made into two or three tresses, which about to be married to the Prince -. Now




42                ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.
nothing in the dress of this beautiful girl be-'  "Now," said I, "Regina, I have faith in
tokened a wife. Her head was bare, her dress miracles, a friend, a brother, a —"
was black and without ornament, she had noth-   "Be silent!" said she, putting her finger on
ing either around her dress, and she appeared her lips, and casting over her face a vail which
in all respects, like the young girls of Rome. seemed to extinguish all her radiant charms.
This could not be Regina!...". "I am married. I am the Princess -. So,ust as I thought to myself, as to who she they say at least in Rome, though my heart does
possibly could be, she arose from her knees, and not. Except to Clotilda, I have given it to no
looked at the altar to pay reverence to it before one, but have kept it for myself alone, to give it
she left. She saw me and uttered no cry. Her to him she wished to own it. Did not she tell
eyes were fixed, her lips half opened, her arms you to come hither?"
extended toward me, like those of a somnambu-   Besides this, she told me a thousand lifelike,
list. A  marble pallor was diffused over her naif, infantine, and unexpected things, intoxcheek, her arms fell to her side, her limbs quiv- icating as the beauty of her from whom they
ered, and she sank on the ground, supporting came. She said more than a young woman on
herself by her left hand on Clotilda's tomb. your side of the Alps would have uttered in ten
She did not cease to look at me. I rushed for- months, even had they ever entered her mind.
ward and supported her with my arms. How  I was astounded. She gave me confidence. she
can I describe what took place in my mind besought me, she familiarized herself with me,
when I felt the light weight of this not inani- as if she had merely found a sister older than
mate, but sinking form, resting on my bosom?  herself, toward whom  she felt at once every
I had time only to bear her into the fresh emotion of tenderness, and the prompting of
air.  She had not fainted, and at once resumed childish innocence.
her color, motion, and speech.  She arose with-   All this was made expressive by a glance, in
out anger or surprise, as if she felt my arms which heaven was made brilliant by the sparkwere the place for her to rest. She looked at ling of the sea of joy. It emanated from a heart,
the tomb of Clotilda and then at me, glancing the palpitations of which I saw beneath her light
again at both the one and the other. One might silk dress, and which I could not have counted
have fancied that, like an artist, she compared had I looked on them forever.... I must pause.
a model with its portrait.  Then, with all the I can write no more. I can not now do aught
power of her mind and body, rushing toward but throw open my window, and lift my eyes
me, she said. "Clotilda, it is he, because it is toward those stars, whence my sister sent this
thou!"  Then, with childish volubility, she said, divine ray to illumine my life, and to look at
" Are you not he, monsieur? well, I am Regina, the Tiber, which never reflected.aught so dazher friend, her sister, her daughter.  You see I zling to mortal eyes. At another time I will
yet live with her and for her! When I have tell you what I replied.
two flowers, the one is for my hair, and the
other for her tomb. Do you not recognize me   POSTSCRIPT. It is enough for you to know
as I did you. You did not, however, do so from  that this conversation in the convent chapel,
fear. You would not, however, have frightened with our eyes fixed on the grave, between my
me, I am now as calm and used to you, as if we sister's friend and myself, lasted until the Ave
were brother and sister!"                    Marie, when her nurse, having looked in vain
"Oh! what name, mademoiselle," said I, for her in the convent garden, found her seated
" will you permit me to give you-sister, or on the bench by my side; that she hurried me
friend?"                                    toward the old woman, who adores her, and
"Pray, call me Regina," said she, clasping pushed me into her arms, clapping her hands,
her hands in supplication.: I would then be and crying out, "It is he;" that she presented me
sure that it was Clotilda.  She did not call me to her infirm grandmother, by whom I was reMademoiselle; nor will I know you as Monsieur, ceived as a son, and taken to the cell of my poor
but as Saluce."                               sister, now become hers, and hung around with
"Regina," said I, sinking on one of the bench- memorials of her; that she fell on her knees
es of the cloister, and then kneeling before her, before a picture of Clotilda, hung at the foot of
"is it you?  Did you look for me to replace her bed, and said, as she covered it up, "I need
my sister?"                                 you no more: your living image is found. He
"I did not expect, though I prayed for you," is there. Look at us, we will love as you and I
said she, taking my hand in hers, with the inno- did."
cent confidence of a child, not hesitating be-   That ultimately, with tears of mortification
tween propriety and a first impulse; "yes, you and an air of incredulity, she told me of her
do not know me, but she does" (she pointed marriage, the future consequences of which did
with her finger to the tomb).  "I prayed for not seem to make her uneasy; that with the
you every day on this tomb. I said to Clotilda, grandmother and nurse, we passed the evening
if you wish me to live, vouchsafe to me your together, talking of Clotilda, on the terrace and
image and heart in those of the brother you in the garden of the convent; that the gate of
resembled so much.  She has heard me," said the convent will almost be open, to enable me
she, with a gesture of superhuman assertion. to visit her freely, and talk of my sister; that,
"Yes," she replied to me, "something told me as it were, I lelong to the family, as if poor
she wcvld become resuscitated for me, and that Clotilda really were arisen from the dead; that
from  her tomb, as you there appear, would my sight is dazzled; my soul intoxicated, and
arise her image and features, under the name steeped in delight; that during the day I have
of dear S'luce.....   Is this true?  In this lived more than in all the twenty-three years of
promise dt 1 she deceive me?  Will you be what my life, and that if God granted me permission
she was to me?"  to live a century without her, or the minute only




ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.                                     43
during which Regina advanced toward me, be- me, as if she had, in placing her finger on the
fore she looked through the sunbeams on me, I hand of the clock, stopped the motion of time.
would not hesitate to select the latter, which    *    *    *    *    *' *
contained more delirium  than eternity can.   [Seven or eight of the letters of Saluce are
Adieu, adieu, adieu!                         here missing, in which he described the monotonous scenes of his happiness, and gave me the
LETTER II.  (From  Rome.)            development of the passion of the two lovers].
Keep these letters; they will recall to you     *    *           *    *    *    *
something of my life now rapidly passing away,
in case we should not meet again.                     LETTER X.  (From  Rome.)': Since I described to you my meeting with   You know the villa PBnphila. You rememClotilda's friend, we meet every day. In the ber the eveninglin April when we went thither
morning all is quiet, during the siesta of La together, and looking through the dark pines at
Longara, at a certain hour, I pass beneath the the green lawn in front of the cottage, terwindows of a lonely wing of the little convent. minated only by the plain covered with fogs
There is a belvidera at that place, from which which drift through the yellow arches of Travertime has now torn away a portion of a trellice tine, from the ruined aqueducts, you said, "This
of wood, which in other days prevented the is too beautiful for man, Love alone should dwell
novices from being seen by passers-by, as they there!
inhaled the fresh air. Regina has alone free   Well, you are a prophet.  This is too beautiaccess to it, and comes thither from her cell, ful. Love has come thither, and has made these
and has somewhat enlarged the breach made by melancholy scenes, which you call the garden
time.  She has converted it into a real sentry of the infinite, a thousand times more beautiful.
box, whenever she puts forth her head through   We came thither after the sun had sunken
the frame work of moss and climbing vines. into the Mediterranean, at the hour when the
She knows my step in the street, passes her Romans and strangers crowded the Corso, the
hand through, and throws at my feet either a two walls of which flung back the dust on them.
handful of flowers or a dry leaf, or yet even a As the Princess -     is in a convent, the
grain of sand. She looks down to observe if I Countess Livia took her only to solitary places,
have picked it up: I go to the other side of the such as Albano, Tivoli, Frascati, to the monustreet: I see her large wide eyes, like blue urns ments, to the gardens of Diocletian, to the tomb
amid the tapestry of flowers: I see her golden of Cecilia Metella, to the Sabine fields, whither
hair like the filaments of an unknown plant; we only she and I went. As I am little known at
look at each other motionless, except the quiv- Rome, I am taken to be a nephew of the Count.
ering of our lips, full of mute words, confessions ess Livia, come from Sicily to assist my aunt.
and smiles, wafted through the wind. Thus we My black hair and southern features render the
remain, until some impertinent blind in a neigh- story probable.
boring house is opened, or until I hear the steps   This evening, therefore, having left the old
of some passer-by at the end of the street. Then countess and the nurse in the caleche, at the
she retires, and I return to the palace of my lawn at the gates, Regina and I, as was our
father to pass the night in an intoxication of wont, wandered amid the long avenues of lau.
pleasure.                                     rels which extend farther then the eye can reach
In the evening, at the hour when the Romans from the city, toward the valley-at this hour,
go out in their caleches to the theatres, the Corso, which Italians think dangerous, the only persons
or to conversazioni, which I never visit, I am  in these verdant halls; the long, leafy walls
admitted by the portress, as a relative of the of shade trees forming hedges of laurel cut into
family, to the princess's rooms.  She is but statues. The basins, corners of alleys, perpartially subjected to the rules of the cloister. spectives of sculpture which here and there
I find Regina waiting for me at the fountain, break the uniformity, hid us from view. We
and I kiss her hand with a stranger's respect, were plunged in the isolation and security of
and a brother's familiarity.  She takes me to happiness, which makes lovers think themselves
the side of her grandmother's bed, and in the the only persons on earth. We hurried as far
presence of that aged woman, we talk with full as we could through these labyrinths, that no
familiarity, so that she seems to become young eye but those of the stars of the firmament, which
again at the aspect of our happy, childish joys. then began to shine, might behold us. Regina
She sometimes, though. looks sadly at Regina plucked the autumn flowers, and brought them
and myself, then looks at the clock, and seems to me in handsful, to carry to the carriage, to
to think "How long will this happiness last? perfume at night the terrace before her room.
how many hours will they enjoy in these two My hands were full. She ran before me, and
years?  For at the expiration of that time startled the birds which already had sought
Prince -     will take possession of his wife."   their perches, and flitted across the path with
When Regina perceives this uneasiness, and their many colored wings almost touching her
guesses at the cause of her grandmother's trou- hands. The rosy tints of evening vapors, which
ble, she stops the hands of the clock and looks floated in the seaward horizon, were reflected
at her grandmother..... "No, no," says she, on her brow, her neck, her hands, like a celestial
with her infantine Italian mouth, " No, grand- dew poured from heaven on the divinest of human
mother. do not think of that. It can never be. things. Her hair, which ever and anon falling
Do not talk to me of the prince, for you make as she ran she put up again, was wet with dew.
me hate my name. I am Regina and no prin- One might have fancied her just from one of those
cess. I laugh at his Sbirri.  My heart is my baths of Diana, the waters of which ran in
own, and I will give it to whom I please." streamlets by her feet. Never had I seen her
Then, with a smile of confidence, she looks at so beautiful, andnever had a more complete repre.




44                ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.
sentation of joy and youth strayed amid those of you completes my happiness. I fancy you
gardens. I did not understand, as I looked at yet there looking at me, and rejoicing that
her, how grief could ever dare to overshadow  fate has vouchsafed me. as the scene of my
such a brow. She seemed to me beyond the love, one of the divinest spots of earth. When
power of death and misfortune.               the soul is full it must expand itself in a sphere
When she tired she hung with both hands on beautiful as its thoughts. Nature is the decoramy arms, already burdened with flowers, and tion of life. Nothing happier or more beautiful
swung on them to exaggerate the weight of her can ever be found.
slight frame, and make me the better understandR X.  (                      
the assistance I was to her.  She amused herself, now and then, by walking slowly, as if out   My happiness was too complete to be duraof breath at the exercise she had taken, and ble. I need your pity. The Countess Livia
then let go my arms, and running down the has received from  the Governor of Rome, an
garden walks, challenged me to overtake her.   order to return to the city, and live in the conShe then let me pass her, and called out to vent a monastic life, with her grand-daughter,
me to wait. She then would approach, with her or to send her thither alone, until Prince -
arms folded like one fatigued or musing, and shall come to claim his wife. This order comes
looking at me, would seem occupied with some from the friends of the prince, who have ascerthought. Then she would lobk up all at once, tained that a stranger had introduced himself
and shake her head as if to cast some unpleasant into the family. Here none dare disobey the
fancy away, and with haste and impatience orders of the police, which are absolute and
would say, "No, Saluce, I will not think of it. must be obeyed. The countess left Tivoli and
We have two years before\us."                 has returned to Rome, so that she might be
"But," said I,' do you comprehend how we able to exert her own influence and that of her
shall suffer when separated after two years of friends with the government. Regina is shut up
such happiness?"                             alone with her nurse in the convent. I left os" Clotilda is in heaven," she would say, point- tensibly for Florence, at her instance, to preing with her finger to one of the stars, which vent any possibility of accusation and charge
she saw starting from the sky, above one of the against Regina and the countess; when, howbroad, umbrella-like Italian pines.  "She who ever, I reached Terni, a young Neapolitan,
united will protect us."                      whom  I knew, took my place.  Alone and
" Do you reflect how lonely life in my father's under another name, I returned to Rome. I
palace will be after evenings passed thus? Oh, did not go to my palace, that the fact of its
why, if Clotilda was to protect our love, did she being unoccupied, might deceive the governsuffer the dark shadow of him who one day will ment. I live concealed in the house of a garclaim you in the name of the law, to ask for dener, outside of the walls, near San Paolo, at
what neither the heart or will have given him?" a cross road, near the house of a brother of
Prince -     is not now at Rome, but travels Regina's nurse. I occupy a room, the window
in Italy and America, engaged in the examina- of which opens on the fields, and permits one
tion of agricultural improvements he designs to look out on the orchard and the fields, withto introduce into his domains in the Roman out being seen from the road. I have books,
States.                                      papers, and arms. I never go out except at
night, and then wrap myself up in one of the
LETTER XIII.  (From Rome.)           large brown cloaks worn by the peasants of the
Days and months have passed, and no portion  Campagna di Roma. At the gates people take
of my happiness has changed. For that reason me for one of the cattle merchants from the
I write so rarely to you; I am afraid of annoy- Sabine Fields, or a vine dresser from Velletri
ing you with my happiness. For some weeks I go in and out unsuspected, and glide beneath
I have lived in the same house with Regina and the walls of La Longara. At a signal made
her grandmother. I am at Tivoli.              by my iron shoes on the pavement, a light is
The physicians have advised the Countess shown behind the trellice, a hand is passed
Livia, as a means of strengthening her health, through the window, and a letter tied to a piece
to breathe the pure air of the mountains. A  of lead falls on the ground. It is written by
few days ago, she rented the Palace -, at Regina. I then tie to it a note written by myTivoli.  She has permitted me to rent a little self. I hear a sigh and my own name proroom in the same palace. From my window  nounced in a low tone. I cover the paper with
I see Regina's balcony, where her grandmother kisses, before I send it up. I withdraw at the
sits all day long in the shade, until the sun slightest noise, I bear away my treasure, and
passes the corner of the palace. You know  read it by the light of the moon, or of the lamps
Tivoli. We are at the very foot of the hill, which burn in the niches of the Madonnas. I
overlooking the Sibyl's cave, the grottoes and leave the city by another gate, hurry across
cascades, and the valley, whence the murmur the fields to my asylum, and pass the night
and foam of the waters are mingled with the reading, and studying, and examining the let.
rainbows evolved all day long from the vapors. ters of Regina. She says Prince -     is about
Did we need this to infuse perpetual vertigo into to return to Italy; her grandmother passes her
our souls?                                  life in trouble and excitement. She has resolved
From this point I can see the plateau on the to protest against the validity of the marriage
other side of the lake, with the live-oaks and she was forced to consent to, under the influence
the gray rocks interlaced by the fig-bushes, the of terror and fear. She will do any thing to
hermitage of the Franciscans also, which, in avoid misfortune and to preserve her grandother days, was the house of Horace, whence child. By means of bribery and family interest
you dated your first verses. The remembrance she has elicited the favor of a most influential




ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.                                      45
portion of the government.  Opinions are di- which, however, was strong and convenient, by
vided.  She will throw herself at the feet of means of which, he could reach the top of the
Cardinal -. She has a perfect horror of the wall. When this was accomplished, he inguardian of Regina, and of Prince -.  Re- formed Regina, by means of her nurse's brother,
gina, in all her letters, protests that she will that on the next night, as soon as the moon was
fly to the tomb of Clotilda rather than yield to gone down, he would be in the chapel, near his
a man, whom her heart rejects, rather than re- sister's tomb, and that he who had restored her
sume a love she gave me, before even she knew  to love and life, would restore her to liberty.
me. Thus things are, and thus they may long be.   Aided by the brother of the nurse, the assistOh, why are you not here to advise, and per- ance and silence of whom he had purchased, at
haps, influence me?  I feel that I risk what is the appointed hour, he ascended to the top of
a thousand times more valuable than my life- the wall, pulled the ladder after him, descended
the fair fame of Regina. I have, though, no and hurried into the chapel, where he found
other adviser but delirium, to which I am a Regina and the nurse. He passed them over
prey by day and night. Alas! there is a time the wall, and made his accomplices withdraw,
when delirium is our only adviser.           and in destroying the ladder, do away with all
I will write to you again in a few days, if I traces of the escalade and flight across the garam alive and at liberty.                     den of the complaisant Trasteverano.  One of
*      *'   *        *       *        those slight Roman coaches, formed of two
~~XXV.~ ~          pieces of bent wood, sheltered from the sun by a
strip of cloth, waited for them in the yard of the
This letter was the last before the catastrophe nurse's brother; a vigorous horse previously prewhich made Saluce the inmate of a prison, and pared, was harnessed to it. Regina assumed
the Countess Livia and Princess Regina exiles the costume of a peasant girl, borrowed from
in France. Thus it was that this, like all other one of the nieces of the nurse. Saluce put on a
love dramas, had its denouement in broken peasant's dress and cloak of brown cloth. He
hearts and tears. Regina told me all the de- wore also shoes with soles of wood, and the
tails which Saluce, who was then a prisoner, black leather garters of the Sabine fields. He
could not.                                   had two guns and a horse-pistol, loaded to the
muzzles, in the carriage. Accompanied only by
XXVI.                     the nurse, the fugitives set out about four hours
Saluce, by means of the brother of Regina's before dawn, seeking the most unfrequented and
nurse, contrived to secure the services of a poor mountainous roads. The horse took them on
gardener, on the other side of the Tiber, who the next day to the residence of the Countess
was a kinsman of his. He had.a little garden Livia. The countess had all prepared, having
filled with vegetables, just under the wall of the been previously forewarned, for Regina's flight;
city, which was next to the Convent of Longara. a Spanish felucca, chartered by her factor, waited
The Government having ordered the Countess for them at Gaeto; they went thither the next
Livia to retire to her estates in the Abbruzzi, or day, embarked for Genoa, whither the countess
shut herself up with Regina, in consequence of had ordered her banker to send money, a caran arrangement with Saluce, she left for the riage, and a courier.
Abbruzzi. Regina, who thenceforth was refused   The farewell of Saluce and Regina, just be.
permission to have any communication with fore she embarked, was but an adjournment of
any one outside of the convent, was warned to their reunion and happiness. In six weeks they
prepare to submit to the prince's control, and to were to be at Paris. As however the flight of
go to his palace as soon as he returned to Rome. Regina was in law a forcible seizure, and as
From the energy of her character it may be Saluce's name had been mentioned in connection
imagined how great was her grief, at seeing with it, he resolved to return boldly to Rome, as
herself and grandmother both sacrificed. Clo- if he had never left it, to show himself in the
tilda, Saluce, liberty, memory, love, all entered public places, and in the theatre, and thus coninto the elements which forbade her self-immo- tradict all participation in what had taken place.
lation. By means of her nurse she sent a letter 
to Saluce, saying, " I must either fly, or die, be- 
fore the coming of the day which will tear me   He left for Rome dressed as he had been when
from you."                                    he secured Regina's seizure, and went by the
That day drew near. Prince -     was come, same road. When however, he came to the
but had not yet asked to see the princess. He house of a brother of his nurse, he found a band
consulted with his friends in the government, as of Sbirri in the court-yard, who waited for. and
to the means by which he could by mildness and seized him, before he even suspected their pres.
by temporizing, subdue the revolted mind of his ence. The letters of Regina, and all the evichild-wife. Saluce heard of it.  He resolved dences of his participation in her flight had been
to take advantage of this moment of indecision, found in the cell of the princess. They took
and to remove Regina from a tyranny she feared him to the palace of Buon Governo, or bureau
more than the dagger.                        of police, and after a short examination he was
shut up in the castle of San Angelo as a crim.
XXVII.                     inal of state.
Saluce gradually and without occasioning any   Thence by means of a sub-officer of the Swiss,
remark, procured four or five of those long lad- he contrived to send to Genoa the letter which
ders which gardeners use in trimming their the countess and Regina had brought me.
vines and in gathering the grapes from the ends                 X
of the poplar boughs.  He united the long                           I.
pieces by cords, and constructed a light ladder,   I rejoined at Pont de Pany, the princess and




46                ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.
her grandmother, and prepared to accompany   I did not attempt to console her, for I was mythem  to any place where the protection of a self inconsolable at the absence ofanother. From
friend of Saluce, could be serviceable. After a a bitter experience I knew that the part of conmoment's deliberation with them, it was resolved soler is unpleasant and odious when grief will
that a residence in France, under the eyes of the not forget itself, but becomes agreeable when
Pope's nuncio, and in a country connected with sorrow is deadened and looks out for consolation.
Rome by political deference and by religion, was I lived as much secluded from her as possible,
both inconvenient and dangerous. They there- letting her do as she pleased, and wandered myfore resolved to leave France by Dijon and self amid the solitudes of the Jura, reading and
establish themselves at Geneva. In this neutral writing here and there some verses on the magcountry so near to France, by way of th'e Simplon nificent scenes before me, and devoting myself at
and Milan, they could most easily send confiden- night to the Countess Livia, the ennui of whom
tial messengers to Rome, and wait more calmly I sought by all means to divert.
for the liberty of Saluce, and the result of the   I thus induced Regina to conceive a tender
trial they had resolved to insist on, to test the and sincere friendship for me, far more easily
validity of the marriage, and regain independ- than if I every day had hung, with servility and
ence.                                        devotion, to her side.  Another, under the inWe therefore set out for Geneva together, and fluence of her beauty, would have done so. I
reached it safely.                           do not say that I was not dazzled by a beauty
Immediately after our arrival, I attempted to far surpassing any thing I had as yet seen in
find qi the shores of the lake a comfortable house, Europe. I looked at the young woman as I
which was at once secluded and pleasant; a fit look at a burning forest, the splendor of which
residence for these two women, who wished to attracts me, though I would be careful not to
live quietly during the period of their exile. approach it.  Regina did not notice if I was
Such a house I found at some distance from  young; whether I was handsome, or the reverse;
Geneva, at the pretty city of Nyons. It con- whether formed to attract or to repel attention?
sisted of a hall and three or four rooms, opening She knew I was the friend of Saluce, and nothing
on a lawn, planted With beech trees, and a few  more. This claim did away with all restraint.
rooms for the Countess Livia, her daughter, She fancied she had been intimate with me since
nurse, and two waiting women, employed for she first became acquainted with Clotilda and
them at Nyons. A little room of plank, just below  her brother.
the gardener's house, served to accommodate                      X
me. This house, though seemingly poor, was
delightful. The orchard reached to the very   Through a Swiss officer I knew at Rome, I
edge of a chestnut forest, intersected here and had informed Saluce of the residence I had sethere by paths which lost themselves in the lected for Regina and her grandmother during
mountains.  A spring, which came from the their absence from Rome.  He wrote to us in
hills, through pipes of fine, fell with a murmur, the same way. I do not know what he said to
which the wind modulated, into a stone basin Regina in these letters. I saw her read them,
whither the cows and birds came to drink. In over twenty times a day: nowjoyously and hopefront of the princess's house was a colonnade of fully, and then with an angry expression, which
pine stocks, cut off and planted in the ground; seemed to vent itself on the paper. From her
covering a wooden bench, whither were borne half uttered remarks at the table, I saw she
every day cushions, and where the Countess thought he had resigned himself to their separaLivia sate during the hot hours, with the nurse. tion, too completely and too well convinced that
The lawn, which extended yet farther, was he had made ample arrangements for their living
terminated by two or three oaks which seemed long apart.  What was her reputation: what
to grow from the very verge of the lake. The was the future to her?  She saw all in him!
lawn then descended more rapidly, and termi- Saluce had, however, lived long in England,
nated in the very pebbles of the lake, where, and there was sangfroid even in his love, and a
when the weather was calm, the murmur died great deal of that respect for propriety which is
away, as do the ripples made by stones, which the marked trait of society there. It was plain
children throw into the lake.  At the foot of that on no account would he consent to sacrifice
an immense tree, there was a bench, from  Regina's name and fame to his own character.
which might be seen, Vevay, Lausanne, Ville- were the suit to declare the marriage null and
neuve, and San Giugo; the gorges of the Valais, unsuccessful, and were she restored to her husand the countless white spires of Mont Blanc. band. I saw myself a trace of this feeling in
Regina perpetually asked me the names of the the few and brief notes I received from him, in
various mountains, and whether Italy lay beyond the envelope of his long letters to Livia and the
this or that of them; if Rome could be seen from  princess. The letters of business men and of'
their tops, or how many days' travel it was away. friends of the countess, left no doubt of the
It was evident that she never for a moment speedy decision of the case in Regina's favor.
thought of her beautiful abode, and that her There would then be no reason to prevent the
spirit passed over the mountain brows, more release of Saluce, and his marriage with Rerapidly than the red rays of the snow, to rest gina.
beneath the shadows of the castle of San Angelo.   The countenance of the latter was, therefore,
She had no serious uneasiness about the fate of alternately marked with mad joy and dark clouds,
Saluce, who, as a foreigner, had some protection as the Roman courier who brought their letters
against the dangers which might have befallen to the care of a Nyons banker, bade them hope
a Roman. She was, however, impatient, as the or fear. When happy, Regina wished to pass
young ever are, who think the minutes stolen the whole day with me on the sands of the lake,
lrom passion countless ages.                 to enjoy herself amid those beautiful scenes.




ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.                                      47
When she was sad she avoided me, as if 1 were perty will be confiscated. You love her, we
accountable for her lover's whims and conduct.  know, but such will be the fate of your love.
I never opposed her, and suffered her to have We do not speak of the disgrace which will be
her own way without even objecting in my heart. reflected on her name by the revelations and
When passion becomes just, it is no longer evidence of two men of te lower order, who
passion.  The next day she would come, and assisted in the attempt t carry her away, inby a thousand familiarities seek to excuse her- stigated by her. That name will, to-morrow,
self. I bore all this as if she had been my sister, be the theme of conversation throughout Rome,
for I began to have a presentiment of sorrow for and the object of public slander. Remember
her. I treated her as the unfortunate always she is but sixteen, and think how long she
should be treated; as invalids and children not must submit to this proscription and humiliaaccountable for their sensations.  Hers were tion.
tumultuous as the clouded air, which already   Grief, flight and foreign climates will soon
began to oppress her. In a few weeks the case consume the remnant of the life of her grandwould be decided; just then the correspondence mother. What a prospect, then, lies before a
became slack.                                woman of her beauty, rank, and age! You will
XXXI.                     marry and protect her, say you?  Have you reflected? Where, and how will you find a magisThe Geneva banker informed me he had a trate or priest of any country or communion to
letter for me personally, to be delivered only to unite you to a woman, the first marriage of
myself. I contrived an excuse to go thither,'whom has been declared valid by the tribunals
lest Regina and Livia should suspect the reason. of her own country?  If the Princess Regina
I hurried to the banker. He gave me a volu- can not be your wife, what will be her name?
minous packet.  I read the contents on the Who will ever receive into his house a woman
journey to Nyons. It contained a long letter who can not be your wife, and whom you dare
of six sheets for me and one for Regina. I was not introduce as such?  Think of her, and not
ordered not to give it to her until she should of yourself. We can not but tremble when we
have been prepared for the result. I was in one think what reputation the sentence of a judge
of those little Swiss cars which I had hired at taken at hazard, will to-morrow inflict on the
Nyons. I read my letter easily.  The chief woman you love better than your life.
passages were as follows:                       Thus perplexed by the opinions too clearly
EIGHTEENTH LETTER OF SALUCE.           declared, during the last two days, by the principal judges, we have received certain proposi(Palace at Rome.)   tions from  the advocates of the prince. The
1 have done my duty, my dear friend, but feel prince, you know, by this marriage, has ever
that it has been accomplished at the price of my sought only that the fortune of the countess may
existence.  It matters not.  I have done my be secured to his descendants. His infirmities
duty, and feel the approbation of my conscience and age make the possession of a beautiful woamid the anguish of my heart. There are two man valueless to him. Without remorse he can
beings in me, and one has been immolated to contemplate being forced by this sentence to
the other. All is over, Regina is free,hand now  cast dishonor and obloquy on the young girl who
can return to her grandmother at Rome. Return bears his name, and who is otherwise so closely
to the palace or villas of Countess Livia, travel connected with his own family. He will not
or live in her own country without ever being hesitate to prosecute her, if you persist in inter.
under constraint, or annoyed by the prince in posing between Regina and himself; but if yoi.
her independence or fortune. One word from  disappear from the case, there will remain only
me has restored her name, liberty, fortune, and a child, whom he pities and respects. He will
country. Could I hesitate to pronounce it?  I watch over her fate with paternal indulgence,
appeal to you. No: do not tell me, though; and consent never to require his wife to reside
what is done is done. I have condemned my- in the palace, and leave her in possession of all
self, and do not for a moment repent of the de- her own fortune. He will insist only that in her
cree. Did I, no man would be so base or self- grandmother's house she shall continue to bear
ish. I can die of grief, but not of shame.   his name, and be separated from a person who
*    *       *       *       *        has offended public opinion too much, and affordThe evening before the trial of the princess, ed public malice too much excuse. The accommy lawyers received proposals from those of plices of the prince will be released as soon as
Prince -. They came to communicate them  the prince shall have withdrawn his complaint.
that night, and were accompanied by a high From you, sir, he requires nothing but a long
official of the government. The communication absence from Rome in return for the complete
was as follows:                       -      sacrifice of his rights and his resentment. Rome
The trial of the Princess -, of which you will see which is the most generou's and best
are the cause, and in which your name will be friend of this child, yourself or the reported tyrant
mingled, and your testimony as a man of honor who preserves her honor, and restores her to the
called for, takes place to-morrow. We will not position which this young stranger had endangerconceal from you, that all our efforts to look ed, to gratify his own passion.
at it without terror, are vain. Precedent, man-   Having thus spoken, they withdrew. They
ners, the judges, the noblest families of Rome, asked me to reflect alone, without any thing to
are all against you, or rather against the prin- influtence my mind, in relation to the proposals
cess and her grandmother. We shall fail. The of the prince and government.
sentence will be perpetual imprisonment in a      *       *       *               *
ponvent for the young woman, whom you will   I did not reflect, but shouted in agony, as I
adore in hopeless exile, and all your Italian pro. fell upon the floor. I held two lives in my hands,




48                ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.
that of Regina and myself. I sacrificed mine. and not even opening it. "Tell him to go,"
Let her accuse-let her hate me; what matters said she, inltalian, " I have nothing more to say
it?  You know me. When my duty is marked to him! I wish him not even to sacrifice his
out, I will accomplish it, come fire and death!  life for me. Do I belong to him that he can
e      *       *       *       *        ruin me with himself?  Coward and villain!"
When you receive this, I shall have left said she, trampling the letters in the mud and
Rome, and Regina can return. Her family and sand, "I will not have one trace of him near
society will receive her as she deserves. She me. He is unworthy to make the lid of a Ro
will be mistress of her life, the grace of the man woman's eye droop. Let him love the cold,
house of her grandmother, and the idol of this icy women of his own land. Talk not of him.
land of beauty. Let her forget me. Clotilda Do not mention even his name."  As she spoke
orders her, with my voice, to do so. Some day she looked angrily at me.
perhaps-                                       She then sprang rather than ran up the steps,
*    *       *       *       *        opened the window, and with disheveled hair
To-morrow I start for Spain, where I shall and wringing her hands, looked toward the
take service in my uncle's regiment of the mountains of Italy, uttering an imprecation,
Royal Guard. He has no relation but myself, mingling tears and sobs with it, as if she
and invites me to him. I know he has ideas of thought Saluce could hear her at Rome. She
a marriage between an only daughter and my- then cast, with a desperate gesture, all his letself. I will never love another, after having ters into the garden, all his hair, and every
idolized the most beautiful being that ever ex- relic of their love. Calling her nurse, she said,
isted. I will embark for the Philippines, and "Take up all that, tie a stone to it, and throw
proceed to so remote a land that even the name it into the deepest part of the lake, that no wave
of Europe never will fall upon my ear. Forget may ever bring back a single fragment. I
me yourself, yet for my sake remember Regina, would bury, if I could, also the six months of
and do not desert the countess and herself in a my love and folly."
foreign land until her mother's two brothers,   The nurse, who was angry and indignant as
who go to-morrow  to bring them  to Rome, Regina, obeyed. The poor Countess Livia, pale
reach Geneva.                                and silent, wept in her bed, in a conflict between
*.*      *       *       *        joy at the exclusive possession of her grandI inclose three letters for her.           daughter, and anger at her desertion by Saluce.
Do not give her the last-my final adieu,   After this access of rage, Regina threw heruntil you shall gradually have prepared her for self on her bed, and did not show herself for two
the blow I inflict to save her.              days. Her nurse struggled in vain to calm her.
Write to me at Madrid, when she has become Two or three times I met this woman on the staircalm, and tell her not to curse me eternally.    way, and asked after Regina.  " She is recovering," said the peasant woman, in Italian, " anger
[The rest of the letter contained advice as to and scorn have cured her. I would have cured
how I should act to soften Regina's distress.]    myself with blood."  The nurse looked on SaXXXII.                     luce's generosity as the greatest of affronts, and
when I spoke the words, said, "No, signor, in
I could not but approve of Saluce's conduct, love there is no generosity. In my country,
though I deplored the fatal necessity to inflict people who love think of nothing else.. You
misery on Regina, while he immolated his own French can not -understand an Italian heart.
heart. He had not consulted her. Who knows Your fogs wash out sentiment. A Roman would
if he would not a thousand times have preferred have ruined and dishonored my mistress, but he
exile and poverty with her, to wealth and for- would have died for her.
tune apart?  The duty he felt himself thus   "I despise your friend. Go."
called upon to discharge, was arbitrary. He
made himself at once judge and executioner, and                 XXXIV.
had no reference to the victim. The sacrifice,   On the next day Regina appeared pale but
however, was required by love, honor, and vir- calm. She approached me in the garden with
tue. My reason became disturbed and wander- her finger on her lip, meaning that I must not
ing in a similar case.                       utter his name. She seemed even touched by
the expression of anxiety on my face, and at
XXXIII.                    the change wrought by three nights.  " Do not
When I reached Lyons; my countenance bore be uneasy," said she, "about me;" and she
the impression of sorrow so completely, that it clasped my hand and' looked at me with an exwas not necessary for me to speak. Regina pression which told more than a volume.  "I
saw all. I sought to deny, to prolong the un- am cured. I did not see Clotilda at her tomb,
certainty, to tell her I received no letters from  but a phantom. That has now faded. It was
Geneva, and would return thither on the next not the brother of Clotilda: though with her
day to wait for the courier from Rome. My face features, it was without her heart."
contradicted me. Regina was not deceived a   Then, letting my hand fall, she hurried toward
minute.  The cool reason she had for some the lake, saying, as she left, " You have her
time observed in Saluce's letters had prepared heart."
her. She felt my person for the package. She   That evening she asked me to walk with her
seized it, and read only the first line, " I have on the mountain, that by fatigue she might earn
done my duty."  She uttered a cry of rage and sleep. We walked from two o'clock until night,
indignation, such as never before vibrated on my amid the ravines, and beneath the chestnut
ear. She was indignant as an outraged lioness. trees which grow  in groups at the foot of
"Vilta," said she, hurling the letter from her, Mount Jura.




ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.                                    49
Her uncles had come to Geneva, and on the   "Will you never come to Rome again?"
next day would return with her to Rome, through   Her voice trembled with fear at my anticipa 
the Valais and Milan. She seemed anxious to ted reply.
pass as much as possible of that day with me.   " No; I can not go whither I please."
She was so young, so beautiful, so instinct with' Where will you be this winter?"
light, and incorporated with nature, that when   "At Paris."
about to part with her, I was myself dazzled. I   " Then, as I can go where I please, I will
was myself so young, and so awake to beauty, come thither."
that had not two shadows intervened (that of   I understood the accent of inflexible resolution
-  and Saluce) I would have laid my heart at with which she uttered a mental oath to see me
her feet to be trampled on as she did on the again.
leaves.                                       " No, do not come," said I.
She seemed to see this, and rather to court   " I will," was her reply.
than to avoid the glances and words which   The evening was sad and silent, as is always
might have brought our hearts together. A  that which precedes the final separation of
painful uncertainty weighed on our association. friends.
I returned with her to the yard of the house,   The next winter at Paris I received a note
where the shade of the plane-trees and of the from Regina, who told me she had just arrived
walls increased the darkness, without, how- with her grandmother, under the charge of one
ever, uttering a word in relation to what was of the uncles of the young princess, and was at
passing in my mind. Just at the door she turn- the hotel.
ed, and looked at me; she said,               We returned to Paris.
THE END.
THE END.








Geo. Ticknor, Esq.
A HISTORY OF SPANISH LITERATURE.
With Criticisms on the particular Works and Biographical Notices of prominent Writers.
3 vols. 8vo, Muslin, $6 00; Sheep extra, $6 75; half Calf extra, $7 50.
"A work which will fill a hiatus that has long ex- cult to be had even in Spain. Mr. Ticknor, who
isted in the field of letters.  Bouterwyk and Sismon- lived some time at Madrid, under the best advantages
di, who have written on the same subject, have giv- for pursuing his studies and making his literary acen only outlines, and, indeed, could scarcely have  quisitions, has collected a library which has probably
given more, from want of materials, which are diffi- no rival out of the Peninsula."
Rev. Baptist W. Noel.
ESSAY ON CHRISTIAN BAPTISM.
18mo, Muslin, 60 cents.
Herman Melville, Esq.
REDBURN: HIS FIRST VOYAGE.
Being the Sailor-boy Confessions and Reminiscences of the Son-of-a-Gentleman in the
Merchant Service.
12mo, Paper, 75 cents; Muslin, $1 00.
After the pungent and admirably written narra- readers at any time; and that, although twenty pubtive of that accomplished, able seaman, Herman lisher, had combined with fifty authors to deluge the
Melville, few books of the same class but must ap- public with the Pacific Ocean during the five previvear flat and unprofitable. Omoo would have found  ous years.-Blackwood's notice of Coulters Crise.
S. T. Wallis, Esq.
GLIMPSES OF SPAIN; OR, NOTES OF AN UNFINISHED
TOUR IN 1847.
12mo, Paper, 75 cents; Muslin, $1 00.
The subject was not unfamiliar to the author be- enjoy. His book is written in a genial spirit, and
fore his visit to Spain; and his opportunities for ob- in a style of rare felicity, and evinces fine culture,
servation and information, while there, were, per- quick observation, sound judgment, and decided
hLps, better than those which strangers commonly  literary ability.
Rev, Henry T. Cheever.
THE WHALE AND HIS CAPTORS;
Or, the Whaleman's Adventures, and the Whale's Biography.
With Engravings. 18mo, Muslin, 60 cents..
An interesting sketch of life and adventure among I and observation of the author, now a distinguished
the whales, founded upon the personal experience  clergyman of the city of New York.
THE OGILVIES.
8vo, Paper, 25 cents.
A tale of intense passion, powerfully writtenreritten, ev rees of the human heart, with its infirmities and its
idently by one whose acquaintance with the mys- inconsistencies, is long and deep —John Bull.




2   Harper f Brothers' Book List of the present Season.
Grace Aguilar.
HOME INFLUENCE.
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Anthony R. Montalba, Esq.
FAIRY TALES FROM ALL NATIONS.
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der the moon, to gambol upon our clean-swept Doyle's illustrations do their full part in making the
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G. P. R. James, Esq.
DARK SCENES OF HISTORY.
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Currer Bell.
JANE EYRE: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
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SHIRLEY.
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SIR EDWARD GRAHAM; OR, RAILWAY SPEOULATORS
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SIDONIA THE SORCERESS,
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CONSTANCE LYNDSAY; OR, THE PROGRESS
OF ERROR.
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Harper f Brothers' Book List of the present Season.   3
Rev, M. Hobart Seymour, M.A.
MORNINGS AMONG THE JESUITS AT ROMI.
Being Notes of Conversations held with certain Jesuits on the Subject of Religion in the
City of Rome.
12mo, Paper, 62[ ccnts; Cloth, 75 cents.
This is one of the most remarkable publications of more especially to England and to the state of the
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ably fitted to deal with those unscrupulous contro- Christian readers. We regard the book as eminent-,ersialists, the disciples of Loyola; and though there  ly suggestive in its character. It is worthy of every
Ire a number of things in the volume which apply  one's thoughtful consideration.-New York Mirror.
J. F. Corkran, Esq.
HISTORY OF THE NATIONAL CONSTITUENT
ASSEMBLY.
From May, 1848.
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Full-length portraits of the most distinguished act- I here drawn with no common pencil. The writer a
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SCENES WHERE THE TEMPTER HAS TRIUMPHED.
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William  Beattie,   I.D.
LIFE AND LETTERS OF THOMAS CAMPBELL.
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2 vols. 12mo, Muslin.
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THE CONQUEST OF CANADA.
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E. S. Seymour, Esq.
SKETCHES OF MINNESOTA,
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In two Parts. 12mo.
Alexander von Humboldt.
COSMOS:
A Sketch of a Physical Description of the Universe. Translated from the German,
by E. C. OTTB.
12mo, Muslin.




4     Harper' Brothers' Book  List of the present Season.
irs. Emma D. E. Nevitt Southworth.
RiTRIBUTION; OR, THE VALE OF SHADOWS.
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George Combe.
A SYSTEM OF PHRENOLOGY.
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THE PRINCIPLES OF MORAL AND POLITICAL
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ELEMENTS OF LOGIC.
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Richard Whately, D.D.
ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC;
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The late David Bogue, D.D.
THEOLOGICAL LECTURES.
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A TREATISE ON THE PHYSIOLOGICAL AND MORAL
MANAGEMENT OF INFANCY.
For the Use of Parents. From the Fourth Edinburgh Edition.
18mo, Muslin, 371 cents.




Harper 4 Brothers' Book List of the present Season.   5
Andrew  Combe,  I.D.
THE PRINCIPLES OF PHYSIOLOGY
Applied to the. Preservation of Health, and to the Improvement of Physical and Mental Education. With Questions. Engravings.
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Richard Hildreth, Esq.
A HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES,
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ble book for the million, which may be relied on for faithful and skillful execution of his task. The style
the correctness of its details, while it wins the at- is characterized by great perspicuity, force, and
tention by the simple beauty of its narrative."  gracefulness; the narrative is unencumbered, and
"The product of over seven years' literary toil, the tone of the history sound and scholar-like."
Rufus W. Griswold, D.D,
AN ENCYCLOPEDIA OF BIOGRAPHY,
Ancient and Modern; embracing more than Two Thousand Articles relating to Amerlca
Edited from the Biographie Universelle, Conversations Lexicon, the Biographie Moderne, Rose's Biographical Dictionary, Smith's Greek and Roman Biography, &c.
3 vols. royal 8vo. (In press.)
Dr, John A, Carlyle.
DANTE'S DIVINE COMEDY: THE INFERNO.
A literal Prose Translation, with the Text of the Original collated from the best Editions,
and Explanatory Notes.
12mo, Muslin, $0 00.
In this work we have the soul of the doer; it is a the immortal Italian familiar to thousands who are
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ly professes to be, a literal prose translation, with highly appreciated than ever, even by those who
notes explanatory, both for their brevity and their have fancied that they studied him well. It is a
eoaency.-JERROLD'S Newspaper.                 rich store-house of literary wealth, and wisdom, and
We are much mistaken if this work does not make genius.-Litcrary Gazette.
Rev. W. P. Strickland.
A HISTORY OF THE AMERICAN BIBLE SOCIETY,
From its Organization in 1816 to the present Time.
WITH AN INTRODUCTION, BY REV. N. L. RICE.
With a Portrait of Hon. Elias Boudinot, LL.D., first President of the Society. 8vo, Cloth,
$1 50; Sheep, $1 75.
The above work has been examined and approved by many eminent gentlemen, among whom are
BISHOP M'ILVAINE,                              REV. DR. FISHER,
"   JANES,                                    "      ELLIOTT,
"   MORRIS,                                   "   "  TYNO,
REv. DR. BEECHER,                               "       BRIGHAM,
"   "  BIGGS,                                  "   "  DURBIN,
"   "  RICE,                                 HON. JUDGE M'LEAN.
"4  "  STOCKTON,
Professor Andrews.
A LATIN-ENGLISH LEXICON.
From the new German Work of Dr. Freund, augmented with important Additio J.
Uniform with Liddell and Scott's Lexicon. Royal 8vo. (In press.)




6    Harper' Brothers' Book List of the present Season.
A HISTORY OF WONDERFUL INVENTIONS.
With numerous Illustrations. 12mo, Paper, 50 cents; Muslin, 75 cents.
A cleverly-compiled, compact little book, begin- Such a record may take its place on the play-roorr
ning with the Mariner's Compass and ending with shelves beside the Arabian Nights or the Tales of
the Electric Telegraph; ornamented prettily with the Genii, for there is nothing more wonderful ir
wood-cuts of attractive scenes and incidents connect- those enchanting romances than may be found in this
ed with the various discoveries, and altogether a grave little piece of history.-London Examiner.
very well-designed and well-executed piece of read-   This is a capital book, capitally illustrated by
ing for the young. The descriptions are intelligible wood-cuts. The compass, gunpowder, gun-cotton,
and plain; there is no attempt to go beyond the printing, gas, steam, electricity, time and weather
simplest and most interesting aspects of the inven- guages, and all the other most remarkable elements
tions detailed, and the spirit is earnest and hopeful which guide and rule the world in our age, are well
as befits a writer with such an audience before him. explained and described.-LondonLiterary Gazette.
Professor Gray.
NATURAL PHILOSOPHY.
12mo. 
SERMONS BY THOMAS CHALMERS, D.D., LL.D.,
Illustrative of different Stages in his Ministry. From 1798 to 1847.
EDITED BY REV. WILLIAM HANNA, LL.D.
Forming Vol. VI. of" Chalmers's Posthumous Works."  12mo, Muslin, $1 00; Sheep extra, $1 25.
This volume contains sermons, beginning in 1798, His several farewell discourses are full of rich hu.
and we need not speak of the peculiar eloquence and manity and touching reflections; but there are thirtyeffect of the preacher. They stand well the exam- three sermons, and we can not particularize their
ination of the closet, not only in style, but, what is relative merits. Leaving the more theological subfar better, in moral discipline and doctrine. The Di- jects, we would say, that those on courteousness,
vine summary of human duty is a fine example of and the duties of masters and servants, are worthy
the enforcement of both religious and moral duties; of being framed in letters of gold, as lessons for the
on the guilt of calumny, a glorious moral discourse. right discharge of simple daily duties.-Lit. Gazette.
Rev. Jacob Abbott.
A SERIES OF HISTORIES.
Comprising
MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS.                            JULIUS CESAR.
CHARLES I. OF ENGLAND.                          KING RICHARD I.
ALEXANDER THE GREAT.                            KING RICHARD III.
HANNIBAL TIIE CARTHAGINIAN.                     ALFRED THE GREAT.
QUEEN ELIZABETH.                                DARIUS, KING OF PERSIA.
CHARLES II. OF ENGLAND..                      WILLIAM  THE CONQUEROR.
QUEEN MARIA ANTOINETTE.                         XERXES.
Each Volume is handsomely printed, tastefully bound, and adorned with an eiegSitly Illuminated Title-page and numerous illustrative Engravings.
12mo, Muslin, plain edges, 60 cents; Muslin, gilt edges, 75 cents.
The historical writings of Mr. Abbott can not fail torical truths without the semblance of a task. —
to be popular. They are written in an elegant yet JDemocratic Review.
simple style, and are well suited both to juvenile   The matter and the style of publication make them
and mature minds.-Methodist Protestant.         peculiarly attractive to the young, for whose use we
Already there are seven of these attractive his- do not know any more interesting and instructive
tories of Mr. Abbott. The style is eminently calcu- works. Every parent should place them  in the
lated to excite youthful attention, and to implant his- hands of his children.-Baltimore American.
James Copland, M.D, F.R.S,
A DICTIONARY OF PRACTICAL MEDICINE.
Comprising General Pathology, the Nature and Treatment of Diseases, Morbid Structures,
and the Disorders especially Incidental to Climates, to the Sex, and to the different
Epochs of Life; with numerous Prescriptions for the Medicines recommended.  A
Classification of Diseases according to Pathological Principles; a copious Bibliography
and an Appendix of approved Formulae.
WITH NOTES AND ADDITIONS BY C. A. LEE, M.D.
To be completed in 3 vols. royal 8vo.  2 Vols. now Published.  Price $5 00 per Vol., bound in Muslin.
Aside from its importance to the medical profes- of the various diseases which "flesh is heir to."  It
sion, this work can not fail to commend itself to a is unquestionably the best work that has hitherto apaumerous class among general readers who would  peared on the subject of Practical Medicine, either ia
obtain intelligent views of the nature and treatment this country or in Europe.-New Bedford Mercury




Iarper                         o Brothers' Book List of the present Season.       7
THE LATE MR. SOUTHEY'S COMMONPLACE-BOOK;
Consisting of Choice Passages from Works in every Department of Literature-Special
Collections in various Branches of Historical and Literary Research-Analytical Readigs, being critical Analyses, with interesting Extracts-and Original Memoranda, Litertry and Miscellaneous, accumulated by Mr. Southey in the whole course of his peronal and literary career.
EDITED  BY HIS SON-IN-LAW, REV. J. W. WARTEI'.
Sujoined is an analysis of the whole contents of the collection, as well as a summary of the contents
of eaci volume of the series.
FIRST SERIEs-Choice Passages.
ChoicePassages, Moral, Religious, Political, Philosophical, Historical, Poetical, and Miscellaneous:-First
Class Larger Passages; Second Class, Smaller Passages.
Collectins for the History of English Manners and Literature.
SECOND SERIES-Special Collections.
Collection relating to-                       Collection relating toChurc-of-England Divinity.                    The Native American Tribes.
Cromwvll's Age.                               Spanish and Portuguese American Geography.
Spanisi and Portuguese Literature.            Miscellaneous Geography.
The Maners of the Middle Ages.              Collection consisting ofThe Hisory of Religious Orders.               Remarkable Facts in Natural History.
Orientala, or Mohammedan and Hindoo Manners.   Curious Facts quite Miscellaneous.
East Inaan Geography.
THIRD SERIEs-Analytical Readings.
Analytical leadings of Works in-              Analytical Readings of Works in —
English listory (Civil).                      Biography (Miscellaneous.)
~       ~- (Ecclesiastical).               Literary History.
Anglo-Iris History.                           Correspondence.
French Hitory.                                Voyages and Travels.
Civil Histcy (Miscellaneous Foreign).         Topography.
Ecclesiastzal (General).                      Natural History.
Historical lemoirs.                           Divinity.
Biography Ecclesiastical).                    Miscellaneous Literature.
FOURTH SERIEs —Original M.emoranda, S-c.
Ideas and Stdies for Literary Composition in gen- Characteristic English Anecdotes.
eral.                                       Facts and Opinions relating to Political and Social
Memoranda fc the Composition of particular Works.   History.
Personal Obsrvations and Recollections.      Memoranda relating to the Political History of the
Miscellaneous Notes and Extracts relating to the   Period of the Reform Bill (1830-33).
compositionof "The Doctor."                 Miscellaneous Gleanings.
Svo, Paper, $1 00 per Volume; Muslin, $1 25 per Volume.
Professors Riddle and Arnold.
AN ENGLISH-LATIN LEXICON.
Founded on the German-Latin Dictionary of DI  C. E. Georges.
REVISED BY CHARLES ANTHON, LL.D.
Royal 8vo, Sheep extra, $3 00.
Charles Anthon, LL.D.
THE WORKS OF HORACE.
gith English Notes, critical and explanatory. A new Edition, corrected and enlarged,
vith Excursions relative to the Wines and Vineyards of the Ancients; and a Life of
Horace by Milman.
12mo, Sheep extra, $1 25.
Dr, John C. L, Gieseler.
COMPENDIUM OF ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY.
Fruo the Fourth Edinburgh Edition, revised and amended. Translated from the German,
BY SAMUEL DAVIDSON, LL.D.
Yole. 1. and II., 8vo, Muslin, $3 00.




8   Harper 4 Brothers' Book List of the present Season.
Charles Anthon, LL.D.
A SYSTEM OF ANCIENT AND MEDIEV.AL GEOGRAPHY.
8vo, Sheep, $1 50.
Alexander G. Findlay, F.R.G.S
A CLASSICAL ATLAS TO ILLUSTRATE ANCIENT 4E
OGRAPHY;
Comprised in 25 Maps, showing the various Divisions of the World as knowv  to tle An
cients.  With an Index of the Ancient and Modern Names.  The Maps are beatituilt
Colored, and the Index is remarkably full and complete.
8vo, half Bound, $3 75.
Professors MDClintock and Crooks.
A SERIES OF ELEMENTARY GREEK AND LATIN
BOOKS,
Comprising
A FIRST BOOK IN LATIN.               A PRACTICAL INTRODUCTION TO LIIlN STYLI
Containing Grammar, Exercises, and Vocabula- Principally translated from Grysa's " Theorie
ries, on the Method of constant Imitation and   lateinischen Stiles."  12mo.
Repetition. With Summaries of Etymology              A FIRST BOOK IN GRIEK
and Syntax.  12mo, Sheep extra, 75 cents. 
(Fifth Edition.)                            Containing a full View of the Forns of Wolds,
with Vocabularies and copious exercises, on
A SECOND BOOK IN LATIN.                 the Method of constant Imitatbn and RepeBeing a sufficient Latin Reader, in Extracts   tition. 12mo, Sheep extra, 75 cnts. (Second
from Caesar and Cicero. With Notes and full   Edition.)
Vocabulary.  12mo. (Soon.)                          A SECOND BOOK IN GEEK.
AN INTRODUCTION TO WRITING LATIN.   Containing a Syntax, with Readitg Lessons in
Containing a full Syntax, on the Basis of Kih-   Prose; Prosody and Reading Lessons in
ner, with Loci Memoriales selected from Cic-   Verse; forming a sufficient G:eek Readsr.
ero, and copious Exercises for Imitation and    With Notes and copious Vocabulary.  121o.
Repetition.  12mo.                            (Nearly ready.)
The "First Book in Latin," by Professors M'Clin- sophical and eminently practical character will sr
tock and Crooks, I prefer, on many accounts, to any cure for it great popularity both among teachers ali.
other of the elementary Latin grammars now used pupils. —Rev. J. F. SCHROEDER, Rector of St. Anis
in our schools; and I have no doubt that its philo- Hall, Ne.w York.
Sir Charles Lyell,
A SECOND VISIT TO THE UNITED STATES.
2 vols. 12mo, Paper, $1 20; Muslin, $1 50.
George F. Ruxton, Esq.
TRAVELS IN THE FAR WEST.
12mo, Paper, 371 cents; Muslin, 60 cents.
Mr. Ruxton is a remarkably cheerful, good-natured, on the way. He goes over the ground rapid wit}
free-and-easy traveler, who tells his story in a most a mind always active, and an eye ever obsrvant
happy style, touching here and there the most inter- and for adventurous traveling, it would be iffccit
esting points in a journey of thousands of miles, with to find a more agreeable companion. Wheler the
a quickness and life which make his adventures very anthor repeats a story, or describes a scene i which
pleasant reading.-Hartford Republican.        lie was an actor, he does it with decided flect.Those who travel with Mr. R(ixton will not loiter Presbyterian.




Harper' Brothers' Book List of the present Season.    9
B. J. Lossing.
THE PICTORIAL FIELD-BOOK OF THE REVOLUTION;
Or, Illustrations, by Pen and Pencil, of the History, Scenery, Biography, Relics, and
Traditions of the War for Independence.
EMBELLISHED WITH. FIVE HUNDRED ENGRAVINGS ON WOOD, CHIEFLY  FROM  ORIGINAL
SKETCHES.
To be completed in about Fifteen Numbers, containing Sixty-four large octavo Pages each, at 25 Cents
per Number.
This elegant workwill be a pictorial and descrip- torical societies and elsewhere; and every thing of
tive record of a journey to all the most important interest which fell in his way connected directly or
historical localities of the American Revolution, per- indirectly with the events in question. These will
formed during the years 1848 and 1849. Its plan is all be portrayed and described. In addition to these
unique and attractive, embracing the characteristics sketches, will be given plans of all the battles, exof a book of travel and a history. The author has hibiting the relative positions of the opposing troops
visited the places described and illustrated, and in action; portraits of persons, American and foreign,
sketched the natural scenery; relics of the past, such who were distinguished actors in those scenes, as
as headquarters of officers stMl standing, interior well as of individuals still living who were engaged
views of remarkable buildings, and remains of forti- in the war; fac-similes of autograph names, medals,
fications; many interesting relics preserved in his- and documents; plans of fortifications, &c.
Rev. Charles Beecher.
THE INCARNATION; OR, PICTURES OF THE VIRGIN
AND HER SON.
WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY MRS. HARRIET BEECHER STOWE.
12mo, Muslin, 50 cents.
This volume consists of nineteen chapters, more Regained of Milton. In the simplicity and elegance
fitly, from the delicate fancy, dramatic power, felicity  of its diction, and in the clearness antappositiveness
in description, and occasional instances of splendid  of its imagery, it addresses the most uncultivated
imagination which they exhibit, to be styled cantos, tastes, while it will detain the attention of the Epitor the work is altogether much more poetical than  curean in letters. It is a book calculated for all
Klopstock's, and scarcely less so than the Paradise  sects, for all ranks, and for all ages.- Weekly Mirror
Professor Fowler.
IAN INTRODUCTION TO TIE STUDY OF THE ENGLISH
LANGUAGE.
8vo. (In press.)
Rev. H. Hastings Weld.
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN: HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY;
With a Narrative of his Public Life and Services.
With numerous splendid Illustrations.  8vo, Muslin, $2 50; Sheep extra, $2 75; half Calf, $3 00.
It is a book for "the people"-a book of "prov- narrative of his public life and services by Mr. Weld
erbs," if you please, having in it no little of the wis- forms an interesting and valuable addition to the audom of Solomon; proverbs illustrated and worked out tobiography. This edition is a splendid affair-nothin his own history. It is a practical every-day phi- ing like it exists; the old philosopher would hardly
losophy which has made the fortunes of more men  know himself in so splendid a dress.-Biblical Rethan all the gold of California will ever make. The pository.
Rev. Baptist W. Noel, M.A.
AN ESSAY ON THE UNION OF CHURCH AND STATE.
12mo, Muslin, $1 25. (Second Edition.)
This is a labored argument against the establish- show the evils of such maintenance. It then shows
ment of the Church, by one of the most celebrated  the influence of the anion of Church and State upon
evangelical preachers of this day in England. It Church dignitaries and pastors, and upon Dissenters.
condemns the Union of Church and State upon con- A third series of objections discovers many miscelstitutional grounds, by arguments drawn fromhistory  laneous evils resulting from the same to the people
and the Mosaic law, and from the prophecies and the  and country generally and to religion. The last
New Testament. It condemns also the maintenance  chapter of the work is devoted to the means of proof Christian pastors by the State, and undertakes to moting a revival and extension of religion




10   Harper f Brothers' Book List of the present ASeason,
Hon. T. Babington Macaulay.
THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND FROM THE ACCESSION
OF JAMES II.
AN ELEGANT LIBRARY EDITION, ON LARGE TYPE, FINE PAPER, AND IN GOOD BINDING. UNIFORM
WITH PRESCOTT'S HISTORICAL WORKS, WASHINGTON'S WRITINGS, ETC.
With a Portrait of the Author. Vols. I. and II., Muslin, 75 cents per volume; Sheep extra, $1 00;
half Calf, $1 25.  Also, an Edition uniform with Alison's Europe, at 25 cents per Volume.
Macaulay, as a brilliant rhetorician, comes nearer posing. He is accurate and impartial: perhaps no
to Burke than any writer since his time; as a painter English author is better fitted to produce a popular
of character, his portraits vie with those of Claren- continuation to Hume, or to attract attention to eras
don; for picturesque description, he is equal to Rob- of English history much neglected by general read
ertson, and the march of his narrative, if not so sim- ers.-Churchman.
ply graceful as that of Hume, is more stately and imGeorge Borrow, Esq.
LAVENGRO: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
8vo. (In press.)
Major Ripley, U.S.A.
THE WAR WITH MEXICO.
2 vols. 8vo, Muslin, $4 00.
Judge Thornton.
OREGON AND CALIFORNIA IN 1848:
With an Appendix, including recent and authentic Information on the Subject of the Gold
Mines of California, and other valuable Matter of interest to the Emigrant, &c.
With Illustrations and a Map.  2 vols. 12mo, Muslin, $1 75.
These volumes are not a mere catch-penny con- and tragedy, real and imaginative, but in the whole
cern, as are many of the works which the California course of our reading we have met with nothing to
excitement has produced. They are intensely ex- compare with te narrative part of these volumes.
citing as a narrative, and of real and permanent val- Men, women, and children, dying by inches from hunue for their varied and reliable information. They ger in a dreary wilderness; the living feeding upon
evince, too, no little literary taste and erudition, the dead; toasting their hearts on a stick, and cutthough the product of a California emigrant. They ting off the flesh from the bones and subsisting upon
tell a tale of emigrant hardship, suffering, and toil, it; killing each other for food; selfishness, revenge,
that harrows up the reader's feelings to their in- murder, cannibalism  in its most horrid features,
tensest pitch, and chills his very blood. We have reigning in the camp: the annals of human sufferread of battle scenes, shipwrecks, horrible sufferings, ing nowhere present a more appalling spectacle --
and lingering deaths; tales of torture, cannibalism, Biblical Repository.
Samuel Warren, F.R.S.
THE MORAL, SOCIAL, AND PROFESSIONAL DUTIES
OF ATTORNEYS AND SOLICITORS.
12mo, Muslin, 75 cents.
"Mr. Warren's previous legal publications have  supplement to his excellent "Popular and Practical
placed him in the front rank of what may be called  Introduction tc Law Studies."  It is a work calcuthe literature of the law, and this neat volume, orig- lated t o o gres' g-d to thb profession, and to interinally presented in the form of lectures before the In- est and instruct the generra reader. It is published
corporated Law Society, forms a useful and worthy  in a shape at.lace ec-ix:mical End tasteful."
The Brothers, Nayhew.
THE MAGIC OF KINDNESS; OR, THE WONDROUS
STORY OF THE GOOD HUAN.
NumoWMr   llustrations. 18mo, Paper, 35 cents; Muslin, 45 cents; Muslin, gilt edges, 55 cente




Harper 6 Brothers' Book List of the present Season.   11
Mrs. Marsh.
MORDAUNT HALL; OR, A SEPTEMBER NIGHT.'ho, Paper, 25 cents.
This new novel by the author of " Emilia Wynd- acters so varied in their attributes, and so truthfully
ham," " Angela," &c., not only fuily eastpins the high and energetically painted, that they form a gallery of
reputation of its popular author, but will even raise portraits worthy to rank with the creations of the
it in the estimation of the literary world. Rarely has greatest masters of modern fiction. The other suban excellent moral purpose been so strikingly revel- ordinate personages of this clever and exciting story
Jped through the medium of a tale abounding in dra- are sketches that will remind the reader forcibly of
rnatic incident, and filled with a succession of char- Dickens.-London Standard.
By the Author of "The Bachelor of the Albany."
MY UNCLE THE C RA,`TE.
8vo, Paper, 25 cents.
An interesting story, full of lively incident and joie of smart things. They are, however, not meret
spicy humor.-Savannah Republican.                smart, they are often forcibly descriptive or aptly ilThis author is, perhaps, the wittiest novelist, as lustrative.-Examiner.
Dickens is the most humorous, of the day. His writ-   " The style of the present book reminds us forcibly
ins may not be very profound or leapned, but it cer- of the old English novelists. The author hits off
tainly is keen and truthful. He Joes not use very  character with great spirit and humor; his style is
heavy artillery, but he keeps up a continualfeu de elegant, and throughout he interests the reader."
Sir E, Bulwer Lytton,
THE.'`AXTONS: A FAMILY PICTURE.
8vo, Paper, 37~ cents.
To the 9rill -2nt -auq'.ties which recommend Bul- or less smitten by his bold views, his love of truth,
wer to the raultitads of readers, he adds one quality  and without feeling an elevation of purpose somewhat
which mast always endear him to men who feel an  akin to his own. There are in his works many ad.
interest in the destiny of their species. It is impos- mirable passages, evincing a higher aim than merely
sible to rise from any of his works without being more  amusing his readers.-London Morning Chronicle.
Professor A. W. Smith.
ELEMENTARY TREATISE ON MECHANICS,
Embracing the Theory of Statics and Dynamics, and its Application to Fluids and Solids.
With Illustrations. 8vo, Muslin, $1 50; Sheep extra, $1 75.
This work is the product of much careful study, i University, and his experience as a teacher has In.
and is a felicitous condensation of all that has been i duced him to adopt the analytical in preference to
developed by Whewell, Pierson, Franceur, and  the geometrical method of investigation, as being
Gregory, in this important branch of scientific re-  more universal in its application, shorter in practice,
search. The author is widely known as a Professor  and more exact in results. It also tends to invest
of Mathematics and Astronomy in the Wesleyan the study with additional interest to the student
Thomas Chalmers, D.D., LL.D,
SABBATH SCRIPTURE READINGS.
EDITED BY REV. WILLIAM HANNA, LL.D.
Forming Volumes IV. and V. of " Chalmers's Posthumous Works." 12mo, Muslin, $2 00; Sheep
extra, $2 50.
It is a book which few will open without deep in- say Dr. Chalmers was one in a million of created
terest and deeper reverence. There is no tinge of beings; in these passages he has poured forth a rich
sectarianism  in these pages: they are imbued  stream of intelligence to interest mankind.-Literary
throughout with a catholic spirit, and glow with that Gazette.
universal kindliness which was so distinguishing a   These pages have the charm of originality-the
characteristic of the man.-London Atlas.          mature fruits of a whole lifetime's study of te Diln heart and in brain, in mind and in soul, we may vine Oracles.-The Patriot.




12   Harper c Brothers' Book List of the present Season.
Thomas Chalmers, D.D., LLD.
DAILY SCRIPTURE READINGS.
EDITED BY REV. WILLIAM HANNA, LL.D.
Forming Vols. I., II., and III. of " Chalmers's Posthumous Works."  12mo, Muslin, $3 00; Sheep
extra, $3 75.
Dr. Chalmers's works are destined to exert no consist of his observations in connection with his
small influence on the character of the age. For daily reading of the Scriptures; and while they bear
the last quarter of a century, he has been regarded the impress of a magnificent intellect, they breathe
as one of the greatest intellectual and moral lights of a spirit of ethereal purity and lofty devotion. One
the world; and though dead, he yet speaketh, and scarcely knows, in reading these pages, which to ad
will speak in his productions to the end of time. mire most, the great man or the humble Christian
The first three volumes of his posthumous works -Argus.
Thomas Chalmers, D.D., LL.D,
INSTITUTES OF THEOLOGY.
EDITED BY REV. WILLIAM HANNA, LL.D.
Forming Vols. VII. and VIII. of " Chalmers's Post. Works."  12mo, Muslin, $2 00; Sheep, $2 50
AGNES MORRIS; OR, THE HEROINE OF DOMESTIC
LIFE.
12mo, Paper, 25 cents; Muslin, 371 cents.
It is, as might be inferred from the title, a story  enough for a three volume novel. Much of the in
of domestic life; and it is an intensely interesting  terest arises from the fact that the scenes, the char
one too. Many passages are of the most touching  acter, and picture of life are all American. It is one
character; and, though the tale is quite short, the of those books which " come home to men's bosonm
author has crowded into it incidents and interest and business."-SCOTT'S Weekly.
A. De Lamartine,
MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH.
8vo, Paper, 25 cents.
The scenes of the poet's childhood, his free life  are all described with exquisite poetic frankness,
an the hills of Burgundy, his ramble in the Jura and  The episode of Graziella is the finest thing in thb
among the Alps of Savoy, his Ossianic attachment book, and, perhaps, the best thing Lamartine has
for a young girl, whose tower he watched from the  ever written. It is a picture which will be read and
heights, and whom he addressed in poetic rhapsodies remembered, even should its frame-work fall into de
about the harp of Morven and the ghosts of Cromla, cay.- Tribune.
A. De Lamartine,
RAPHAEL; OR, PAGES OF THE BOOK OF LIFE Al
TWENTY.
12mo, Paper, 25 cents.
Miss Fredrika Bremer,
THE MIDNIGHT SUN: A PILGRIMAGE.
TRANSLATED BY MARY HOWITT.
8vo, Paper, 12~ cents.
Miss Bremer possesses, beyond any other living  moral beauty and womanly purity which steadily l
writer of her class, the power of realizing to the im- luminate her narrative must receive implicit adma
Rinatiom every individual she introduces.  The ration on all hands.-Examiner.




Harper 4 Brothers' Book List of the present Season.   13
Charles Lever.
ROLAND CASHEL.
With numerous Illustrations. 8vo, Paper, 75 cents; Muslin, $1 00.
The exuberant whim and drollery of this writer often convulsed the reader by their drollery and rolrender every work from his pen a perfect feast. Ro- licking wit, seems to possess an endless fund of enland Cashel is excellent. —Mobile Daily Advertiser. tertainment, for on glancing over some of the pages
"This well-known humorous and sparkling writer, of Roland Cashel, we see they are as redolent of fun
whose numerous laughter-provoking novels have so  as those of any of his previous productions."
W. Makepeace Thackeray.
THE HISTORY OF PENDENNIS,
His Fortunes and Misfortunes, his Friends and his greatest Enemy.
With numerous Illustrations. In Seven Numbers, 8vo, Paper, 25 cents each.
W. Makepeace Thackeray.
THE GRE'AT HOGGARTY DIAMOND.
8vo, Paper, 25 cents
The style of Thackeray is admirable. Our mod- tesque likenesses, which originated with Dickens,
ern literature does not afford an example of a more  the style bears a great.analogy to that of Fielding.
apt and easy power of expression and illustration. For vivacity, wit, satiric humor, variety and indiExcept that the range of illustration is wider and  viduality of character, the book certainly deserves
more tinged with that disposition to perceive gro- its European reputation.-Western Continent.
W. Makepeace Thackeray.
VANITY FAIR. A NOVEL WITHOUT A HERO.
Being Pen and Pencil Sketches of English Society.
With Illustrations by the Author.  8vo, Paper, $1 00; Muslin, $1 25.
Vanity Fair must be admitted to be one of the in the book impeded its first success; but it will be
most original works of real genius that has of late daily more justly appreciated, and will take a lating
been given to the world. The very novelty of tone  place in our literature.-Examiner.
Joseph C. Hart,
THE ROMANCE OF YACHTING.
12mo, Paper, 75 cents; Muslin, $1 00.
No one, certainly, can complain of a want of var- skelter, and slap-dash. His nautical log is in a high
ety in this volume. Mr. Hart is a modern, decided- mood of animal spirits and composition.-Literary
ly; and, of all moderns, the most modern, helter- World.
Henry G. Wheeler,
HISTORY OF CONGRESS, BIOGRAPHICAL AND PO.
LITICAL.
Comprising Memoirs of Members of the Congress of the United States, drawn from authentic Sources, a History of Internal Improvements, Ocean Steam Navigation, Tea and
Coffee Tax, the Chicago and Memphis Conventions, &c.
With numerous Steel Portraits and Fac-simile Autographs.  Two Volumes now published. 8vo,
Muslin, $3 00 per Volume.
UThe plan of combining personal sketches with ment by the general government from 1790 to th
political history is well conceived, and the ability, present time-comprising the action of Congress,
industry, and research displayed in the arrangement and opinions of the different Presidents in relation
of the material, entitle the author to the most liberal to it.",
encouragement. Apart from the interest the present   A work compiled with great labor and ability, and
volume derives from containing biographies of public which may be consulted even by statesmen with
men, it is especially valuable for the complete histo- profit.-Extract from  Speech of Hon. J. R. GI-.
ry which it gives of the subject of internal improve- DINGS.




14   Harper; Brothers' Book List of the present Season.
MARY BARTON. A TALE OF MANCHESTER LIFE.
8vo, Paper, 25 cents.
Never did we meet in fiction such an atmosphere  But the men and women in " Mary Barton" talk povof humble and humiliated life as pervades this entire  erty and think poverty-if one may use such an exvolume. Able writers have occasionally depicted  pression. It is this perfect truthfulness that consti.
scenes from low life, wherein they evidently descend tutes its charm. Manchester factory life is before
from their habitual sphere, and give us little sketches us, with its misery and degradation, its hopes and
of vulgarity, of humor, or of wretchedness, just to fears, its bitter enmities, and its gleams of human
heighten the effect of their luxurious pictures, and kindness and gentleness that even vice and suffering
break the sameness of their wearisome gentility. cannot altogether obliterate.-Albion.
DICKENS'S CHRISTMAS TALES,
Comprising
THE HAUNTED MAN AND THE GHOST'S BAR-             A  CHRISTMAS CAROL IN PROSE.
GAIN.                                     THE CHIMES.
THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.                       THE BATTLE OF LIFE.
One Volume, 8vo, Muslin, 50 cents; Paper, 64 cents eeek.
We deem it a beautiful feature in the Christmas travagant invention, was, perhaps, suggested by
tales of this author, that while he professes to admit that class of German productions like "The little
the agency of supernatural causes well in keeping  glass Manikin," and other tales with a kindred in.
with the season, he strives to blend them with those sp:rition, which purport to utilitarianize the fancies
modest scenes of every-day life, which he possesses o: ne Hoffman school. However this may be, we
the secret of painting in such natural colors. The heartily approve of this mode of amalgamation, and
idea of thus reconciling prose with poetry, the do-.onsider the homely touches of fairy pictures as their
main of experience and observation with that of ex- sole redeeming trait.-Democratic Review.
Thomas Carlyle.
THE FRENCH REVOLUTION.
Newly Revised by the Author, with Index, &c.
2 vols. 12mo, Muslin, $2 00.
By far the best view of the French Revolution. were painted by words. We have read the work
It is very full in its details, accurate in its facts, and  many times, and with ever-increasing delight. We
clear and forcible in its inferential doctrines, and is envy not the man who can study this history without
made up of the most impressive pictures that ever learning to love it.-Louisville Courier.
Thomas Carlyle.
CROMWELL'S LETTERS AND SPEECHES,
With Elucidations and connecting Narrative.
2vols. 12mo, Muslin, $2 00.
These are, indeed, welcome volumes, in spite of all any one, has nevertheless been steadily growing
the floods of matter that have been printed in relation clearer and clearer in the popular English mind;
to that man and his times. It is not a little gratify- how, from the day when high dignitaries and pam.
ing to American Republicans to be able to coincide phleteers of the carrion species did their ever-mem.
with Mr. Carlyle, who repudiates the charge of hy- orable feat at Tyburn (exhuming to insult the bodies
pocrisy, when he states, "For, in spite of the stupor of Cromwell and his mother), onward to this day, the
of histories, it is beautiful once more to see how the progress does not stop."  The volumes will be in the
memory of Cromwell, in its huge, inarticulate signifi- hands of every one. The edition is a fine one, with
cance-not able to speak a wise word for itself to a portrait of the Protector.-Democratic Revieo.
Thomas Carlyle.
PAST AND PRESENT, CHARTISM, AND SARTOR RESARTUS.
12mo, Muslin, $1 00.
"Past and Present" and "Chartism" discuss the  a quaint garb the struggles of the author's soul in
present state of English society, laying bare its evils grappling with the great problems of human exist.
and perils with an unsparing hand. "Sartor Resar- ence. This strange but powerful work will be read
tus" is a sort of spiritual autobiography, detailing in with no ordinary profit.-Richmond Watchman.




W orks iubitishet   b g?arper ant 33rothers.                      7
Diary of a Desennuyee: Novel.  12mo...   Muslin $  45
Diary of a Physician: by Warren. 3 v. 18mo..   Muslin   1 35
Dick on the Improvement of Society.  18mo...           Muslin    45
Disowned (the): Novel, by Bulwer. 8vo...    Paper    25
2 v. 12mo..  Boards    65
Distinguished Females: Lives.  18mo..         Muslin    35
Distinguished Men of Modern Times. 2 v. 18mo... Muslin    90
Doctor (the): by Southey.  12mo....   Muslin
Domestic Duties: by Mrs. Parkes.  12mo...         Half-roan    75
Doom (the) of Devorgoil: Poems, by Scott.  12mo..           Boards    35
Downing's (Major Jack) Letters.  18mo..                 Muslin    624
Dramatic Scenes from Real Life: by Lady Morgan.  12mo  Muslin    60
Draper's Text-book on Chemistry.  12mo...             Sheep    75
-.         Natural Philosophy.  12mo..     Sheep    75
Dreams and Reveries of a Quiet Man: by Fay. 2 v. 12o.   Muslin   1 121
Drew's (Samuel) Life, by his Son.  12mo...           Muslin    75
Drisler's English-Greek Lexicon. 8vo.
Dryden's Complete Works. 2 v. 8vo...     Sheep   3 75
Duchess tdAbrantes: Memoirs, by Herself. 8vo..           Muslin   1 37~
Duer's Ceonstitutional Jurisprudence of the United States. 18mo    Muslin    45
Spech before the Convention of the P. E. Church. 8vo      Paper    124
Duncan's Sacred Philosophy of the Seasons. 4 v. 12mo.   Muslin   3 00
Dunlap's History of New York. 2 v. 18mo...           Muslin    90
the American Theater. 8vo..  Muslin   1 75
Durbin's Observations in Europe. 2 v. 12mo..        Muslin   2 00
the East. 2 v. 12mo..          Muslin   2 00
Dutchman's the) Fireside: Novel, by Paulding.  12mo.          Paper    25
2 v. 12mo.   Muslin    75
Duty (the) of'American Women to their Country.  18mo.       Muslin    374
Dwight's (N.) Signers of the Declaration of Independence. 12mo    Muslin    90
-    (T.) Theology. 4 v. 8vo....   Muslin   6 00
-~-......    Sheep   6 50
Dyeing, Calico Printing, &c., Treatise on. 8vo..        Muslin   3 50
Dying Robin (the): Tale, by Dr. Alden...   Muslin, gilt edges    50.......     Fancy, gilt edges    374
Dymond's Essays on Morality. 8vo.                              Muslin   1 00
EARLY Navigators, Lives of. 18mo.                              Muslin    45
Earth (the), its Physical Condition, &c.: by Higgins. 18mo.   Muslin    45
Economy (the) of Health: by Dr. Johnson.  18mo...   Muslin    65
Edgeworth on Practical Education.  12mo... Muslin    85
Edgeworth's (Miss) Tales and Novels.  10 v. 12mo.         Muslin   7 50
Moral Tales. 2 v. 12mo....   Muslin    75
Popular Tales. 2 v. 12mo... Muslin    75
Egypt: History, by Bishop Russell.  18mo....   Muslin    45
Elephant (the): Natural History, by Rennie.  18mo.         Muslin    45
Elizabeth Benton: Tale, by Dr. Alden. 18mo...   Muslin    37.
-...    Paper    25
Elkswatawa: Novel, by French. 2 v. 12mo...   Muslin   1 25
Ellen Herbert: a Tale.  18mo....    Fancy, gilt edges    371
~- --.  -..   Muslin, gilt edges    50
Elves (the), &c.: Tales, by Tieck, and others. 8vo..    Paper    25
Emerson's Letters from the A.Egean. 8vo....   Boards    75
Emigrant (the): by Sir F. B. Head.  12mo.                  Muslin    75
Emilia Wyndham: Novel, by Mrs. Marsh. 8vo..              Paper    25
Eminent Men distinguished in American History. 3S. 12mo       Muslin   2 25
Eminent Mechanics: Lives, by Howe.  12mo..            Muslin    75
Empress Josephine (the): Life, by Memes.  18mo.  Muslin    45
England and America: a Comparison, by Wakefield. 8vo. Muslin   1 25
England and the English: by Bulwer. 2 v. 12mo..           Muslin    85
Englishman's (the) Greek Concordance of the New Testament
Englishman's (the) Hebrew Concordance of the Old Testament.
Ernest Maltravers: Novel, by Bulwer. 8vo..                Paper    25
Eugene Aram: Novel, by Bulwer. 8vo...    Paper    25




8    GWuh sjlishel fV dlarmvr amn 3krotwr.
Eugene Aram:: Novel, by Bulwer.  2 v.   mo..   Muslin  $  8.,
Euler's Letters on Natural Philosophy.  2 v. 18mo..     Muslin         90
Euripides: translated by Potter.  3 v. 18mo....     Muslin    1 30
Evelina: Novel, by Miss Burney.  12mo....      Paper         25
2 v. 12mo....                   Muslin.        85
Evenings at Home: illustrated by Adams.    16mo...     Muslin         75
-~~ _______ --.   ~Muslin, gilt edges    1 00
Everett's Orations on Education and Knowledge.   12mo.     Muslin         75
FAIRY Book (the): illustrated by Adams.   16m.o...     Muslin         75
Muslin, gilt edges-.  1 00
Falkner: Novel, by Mrs. Shelley.   12mo....     Muslin         62i
False Heir (the): Novel, by James.  8vo....      Paper         121
Family Instructor (the), or Manual of Duties.   18mo..      Muslin.:    45
Family Library (the).   187 v. 18mo....     Muslis 80 00
1, 2, 3. Milman's Jews.          64. Montgomery's Lectures.         132, Japan and the Jaanese.
4, 5. Lockhart's Napoleon.        65. Life of Peter the Great.      133. History of Connecticut.
6. Southey's Nelson.              66, 67. Painters, &c. 2d Series. 134, 135. Bucke's Ruined Cities.
7. Alexander the Great.           68, 69. History of Arabia.        136, 137. Denmark,:Sweden, &e.
8. History of Insects, vol. 1.    70. Fraser's History of Persia.    138. Camp on Demoedicy.
9. Gait's Life of Byron.         71. Combe's Physiology.            139. History of MichBan.
10. Bush's Life of Mohammed.    72. Sacred History, vol. 2.         140. Ancient Philosq hers.
11. Scott's Demonology.          73. History of the Barbary States; 141, 142. Napoleorn  Expedition.
12, 13. Gleig's Bible History.   74. History of Insects, vol. 2.    143, 144. History of Philosophy.
14. Polar Seas and Regions.      75, 76. Paulding's Washington.   145. Bucke's Beatanes of Nature
15. Croly's Life of George IV.    77. Philosophy of Living.         146. Property and:abor.
16. Africa.                      78. Higgins's The Earth.           147. White's Nat*.a] History.
17-19. Painters, &c. 1st Series. 79. History of Italy.              148. Wrangell'S- xpedition.
20. James's Chivalry.             80, 81. The Chinese.              149, 150. Hazen!Technology.
21, 22. Marv Queen of Scots.      82. Circumnavigationofthe Globe. 151-153. Spalding's Italy.
23. Russell's History of Egypt.   83. Dick's Celestial Scenery.     154, 155. Lewis and Clark's Trar
24. Fletcher's History of Poland.  84. Sacred History, vol. 3.        els.
25. Festivals, Games, &c.         85. Griscom's Animal Mechanism. 156. History of' Education.
26. Life of Sir Isaac Newton.     86-91. Tytler's UniversalHistory. 157. History oafMesopotamia.
27. Russell's History of Palestine. 92, 93. Franklin's Life.        158. Russell'sVolynesia.
28. Empress Josephine.            94, 95. Pursuit of Knowledge.    159; Perilous Adventures
29. Napoleon's Court and, Camp.  96,-97. Paley's Natural Theology. 160. Duer's Jlrisprudence.
30. Early Navigators.             98. History of Birds.             161-163. American Biography.
31. Pitcairn's Island.            99. Dick's Sidereal Heavens.      164. History of the Elephant.
32. Sacred History, vol. 1.       100. Disordered Mental Action.   165. Potter's-Hand-book.
33, 34. Female Sovereigns.        101, 102. British America.        166. Womant in America.
35, 36. Landers' Travels in Africa. 103. Lossing's Fine Arts.       167, 168. Border Wars.
37. Intellectual Powers.          104. History of Quadrupeds.       169. Vegetable Substances.
38, 39, 40. Lives of Travelers.   105. Mungo Park's Travels.        170. Michelet's Modern History.
41, 42. Frederic the Great        106. Two Years before the Mast.  171. Bacon and Locke's Essays.
43, 44. Venetian History.         107, 108. Parry's Voyages.        172. Voyages round the World.
45, 46. Indian Biography.         109, 110. Johnson's Life, &c.     173. Marco Polo's Travels.
47, 48, 49. British India.        Ill. Bryant's American Poets.    174; 175. American Adventure.
50. Natural Magic.                112, 113. Halleck's British Poete. 176. History of Louisiana.
51, 52. Taylor's Ireland.         114-118. Keightley's England.    177. Moors in Spain.
53. Northern Coasts of America.  119, 120. Hale's United States.   178. Lee's Elements of Geology
54. Ilumboldt's Travels.          12r, 122. Irving's Goldsmith.     179. Pleasures of Science.
55, 56. Euler's Letters.          123, 124. Distinguished Men.      180. Illustrationsof Mechanics.
57. Mudie's Guide to Nature.      125. Life of De Witt Clinton.     181, 182. Spectator in Miniature.
58. Moral Feelings.               126, 127. Commodore Perry.,       183; Potter's Political Economy.
59. Dick on Society.              J28. Bruce's Life and Trav^s.    184. Maury on Eloquence.
60. James's Life of Charlemagne. 129. Lives of Jay and Hamilton.  185. Robertson's America, abh'd.
61. Nubia and Abyssinia.          130. Martyrs of Science-          186.  Charles V., ab'd.
62, 63. Russell?'sLife of Cromwell. 131. Iceland, GreenlaAd), &c.   187. Ferguson's Rome, abridged.
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Iotwa tlubtik               bt lartpet an 3athcract' 13
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14   Warn  lJlublfoiheb t! C arter antr  rTBevz.
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