uences and
merge all power in himself, could not tolerate a woman whom he felt to
be in some sense a rival. He thought he detected her hand in the address
of Benjamin Constant which lost her so many friends. He feared the wit
that flashed in her salon, the satire that wounded the criticism that
measured his motives and his actions. He recognized the power of a
coterie of brilliant intellects led by a genius so inspiring. His
brothers, knowing her vulnerable point and the will with which she had
to deal, gave her a word of caution. But the advice and intercession of
her friends were alike without avail. The blow which she so much feared
fell at last, and she found herself an exile and a wanderer from the
scenes she most loved.

We have many pleasant glimpses of her life at Coppet, but a shadow
always rests upon it. A few friends still cling to her through the
bitter and relentless persecutions that form one of the most singular
chapters in history, and offer the most remarkable tribute to her genius
and her power. We find here Schlegel, Sismondi, Mathieu de Montmorency,
Prince Augustus, Monti, Mme. Recamier, and many other distinguished
visitors of various nationalities. The most prominent figure perhaps was
Benjamin Constant, brilliant, gifted, eloquent, passionate, vain, and
capricious, the torturing consolation and the stormy problem of her
saddest years. She revived the old literary diversions. At eleven
o'clock, we are told, the guests assembled at breakfast, and the
conversations took a high literary tone. They were resumed at dinner,
and continued often until midnight. Here, as elsewhere, Mme. de Stael
was queen, holding her guests entranced by the magic of her words. "Life
is for me like a ball after the music has ceased," said Sismondi when
her voice was silent. She was a veritable Corinne in her esprit, her
sentiment, her gift of improvisation, and her underlying melancholy. But
in this choice company hers was not the only voice, though it was heard
above all the others. Thought and wit flashed and sparkled. Dramas were
played--the "Zaire" and "Tancred" of Voltaire, and tragedies written by
herself. Mme. Recamier acted the Aricie to Mme. de Stael's Phedre. This
life that seems to us so fascinating, has been described too often
to need repetition. It had its tumultuous elements, its passionate
undercurrents, its romantic episodes. But in spite of its attractions
Mme. de Stael fretted under the peaceful shades of