nt, exhaustive, and profound, but she could not link them to
other sentences so as to form an organic whole. Her thought was
definite singly, but vague as a whole. She always saw things
separately, and tried to combine them arbitrarily, and it is generally
difficult to follow out any idea of hers from its origin to its end.
Her thoughts are like pearls of price profusely scattered, or
carelessly strung together, but not set in any design. On closing one
of her books, the reader is left with no continuous impression. He
has been dazzled and delighted, enlightened also by flashes; but the
horizons disclosed have vanished again, and the outlook is enriched by
no new vistas.

Then she was deficient in the higher qualities of the imagination. She
could analyse, but not characterise; construct, but not create. She
could take one defect like selfishness, or one passion like love, and
display its workings; or she could describe a whole character, like
Napoleon's, with marvellous penetration; but she could not make her
personages talk, or act like human beings. She lacked pathos, and had
no sense of humour. In short, hers was a mind endowed with enormous
powers of comprehension, and an amazing richness of ideas, but
deficient in perception of beauty, in poetry, and in true originality.
She was a great social personage, but her influence on literature was
not destined to be lasting, because, in spite of foreseeing too much,
she had not the true prophetic sense of proportion, and confused the
things of the present with those of the future--the accidental with
the enduring.

I cannot but think that in this passage Miss Duffy rather underrates
Madame de Stael's influence on the literature of the nineteenth century.
It is true that she gave our literature no new form, but she was one of
those who gave it a new spirit, and the romantic movement owes her no
small debt. However, a biography should be read for its pictures more
than for its criticisms, and Miss Duffy shows a remarkable narrative
power, and tells with a good deal of esprit the wonderful adventures of
the brilliant woman whom Heine termed 'a whirlwind in petticoats.'

* * * * *

Mr. Harcourt's reprint of John Evelyn's Life of Mrs. Godolphin is a
welcome addition to the list of charming library books. Mr. Harcourt's
grandfather, the Archbishop of York, himself John Evelyn's great-great-
gr