ror; tolluntur in altum
Ut lapsu graviore raent.

The next day, Saturday the 23rd of May,
1812, at two o'clock in the afternoon, I got into my carriage,
saying that I should return to dinner. I took no packet whatever
with me; I had my fan in my hand, and my daughter hers; only my son
and Mr. Rocca carried in their pockets what was necessary for some
days journey. In descending the avenue of Coppet, in thus quitting
that chateau which had become to me like an old and valued friend, I
was ready to faint: my son took my hand, and said, "My dear mother,
think that you are setting out for England*." That word revived my
spirits: I was still, however, at nearly two thousand leagues
distance from that goal, to which the usual road would have so
speedily conducted me: but every step brought me at least something
nearer to it. When I had proceeded a few leagues, I sent back one of
my servants to apprize my establishment that I should not return
until the next day, and I continued travelling night and day as far
as a farmhouse beyond Berne, where I had fixed to meet Mr. Schlegel,
who was so good as to offer to accompany me; there also I had to
leave my eldest son, who had been educated, up to the age of
fourteen, by the example of my father, whose features he reminds one
of. A second time all my courage abandoned me; that Switzerland,
still so tranquil and always so beautiful, her inhabitants, who know
how to be free by their virtues, even though they have lost their
political independence: the whole country detained me: it seemed to
tell me not to quit it. It was still time to return: I had not yet
made an irreparable step. Although the prefect had thought proper to
interdict me from travelling in Switzerland, I saw clearly that it
was only from the fear of my going beyond it. Finally, I had not yet
crossed the barrier which left me no possibility of returning; the
imagination feels a difficulty in supporting this idea. On the other
hand, there was also something irreparable in the resolution of
remaining; for after that moment, I felt, and the event has proved
the feeling correct, that I could no longer escape. Besides, there
is an indescribable sort of shame in recommencing such solemn
farewells, and one can scarcely resuscitate for one's friends more
than once. I know not what would have become of me, if this
uncertainty, even at the very moment of action, had lasted much
longer; for my head was quite confused with it. My