ason," says
Dr. Stevens in his charming biography of Madame de Stael, "she went to
the villa of Madame de Montessan, whither he frequently resorted. She
was alone in one of the _salles_ when he arrived, accompanied by the
consular court of brilliant young women. The latter knew the growing
hostility of their master toward her, and passed, without noticing
her, to the other end of the _salle_, leaving her entirely alone.
Her position was becoming extremely painful, when a young lady, more
courageous and more compassionate than her companions, crossed the
_salle_ and took a seat by her side. Madame de Stael was touched
by this kindness, and asked for her Christian name. 'Delphine,' she
responded. 'Ah, I will try to immortalize it,' exclaimed Madame
de Stael; and she kept her word. This sensible young lady was the
Comtesse de Custine."

Her home at Coppet became the home of many great people. Sismondi, the
author of the _History of the Italian Republics_, and _Literature of
Southern Europe_, encouraged by her, wrote here several of his famous
works. Bonstetten made his home here for years. Schlegel, the greatest
critic of his age, became the teacher of her children, and a most
intimate friend. Benjamin Constant, the author and statesman, was
here. All repaired to their rooms for work in the morning, and in the
evening enjoyed philosophic, literary, and political discussions.

Bonstetten said: "In seeing her, in hearing her, I feel myself
electrified.... She daily becomes greater and better; but souls of
great talent have great sufferings: they are solitary in the world,
like Mont Blanc."

In the autumn of 1803, longing for Paris, she ventured to within ten
leagues and hired a quiet home. Word was soon borne to Napoleon that
the road to her house was thronged with visitors. He at once sent an
officer with a letter signed by himself, exiling her to forty leagues
from Paris, and commanding her to leave within twenty-four hours.

At once she fled to Germany. At Frankfort her little daughter was
dangerously ill. "I knew no person in the city," she writes. "I did
not know the language; and the physician to whom I confided my child
could not speak French. But my father shared my trouble; he consulted
physicians at Geneva, and sent me their prescriptions. Oh, what would
become of a mother trembling for the life of her child, if it were not
for prayer!"

Going to Weimar, she met Goethe, Wieland, Schiller, and other noted
men