salons in the Palazzo Fiano. Among the frequenters of these meetings was M. Forbin, who had been sent on his travels for having paid too overt attentions to the Princess Pauline Borghèse, sister to the Emperor. What remained of social France, corrupted by the luxuries and vanities of the later Bourbons, vilified by the Revolution, and bereft of every particle of pride and principle by an iron despotism, was everywhere the same, whether in Paris or Lyons, in Florence or in Rome. It has only one step lower to fall, and that is being gradually achieved. The meetings were also attended, as a matter of course, by a spy-a M. Norvins, described as a "fonctionnaire chargé de la police," and, at the same time, endowed with sufficient taste and capacity to feel an interest in the society with which he mingled as a matter of business. But is it possible to carry moral and intellectual abasement further than to tolerate the presence of an acknowledged spy at every private soirée or friendly gathering? Among others frequenting the Palazzo Fiano most worthy of notice were Canova and his brother the Abbé Cancellieri, both of whom at once submitted to a thraldom so universally exercised; as to the abbé, as long as Madame Récamier remained in Rome, he penned a daily sonnet to la bellissima Zulièta. M. Ballanche, the victim of Lyons, also followed in the trail of his subduer to Rome. The first night of his arrival Juliette took him to see the Coliseum by moonlight. Suddenly she remarked, as he was walking to and fro absorbed in his emotions, that he had no hat on. "Monsieur Ballanche," she inquired, "where is your hat?" "Oh," he answered, "I lost it at Alessandria." Eleven years

afterwards M. Ballanche was once more in Rome with her to whom he had so entirely devoted himself. D'Agincourt, the author of the "History of Art by its Monuments," was also at Rome, but he was an aged man, and as he could not visit Juliette she went to see him at his modest but picturesque abode at Trinité du Mont, called after Salvator Rosa. During the hot season, Madame Récamier availed herself of Canova's placing an apartment in the Locanda di Emiliano, at Albano, at her disposal. Bassi has commemorated the circumstance in a picture which portrays at once the humble furniture of the locanda and the magnificence of the prospect. Juliette is seated at the window with a book on her knees. Madame Récamier wished to go to Naples, but she felt doubtful how she might be received by the king, Joachim, and his queen, Caroline, whom she had known as Monsieur and Madame Murat. A mutual friend, Prince de Rohan-Chabot, one of those rare members of the aristocracy of good address, but "d'une nuance de fatuité assez prononcée," whom Napoleon had succeeded in attaching to his person, paved the way, and having assured Juliette of a kind reception, she started, in company of an English antiquary, Sir John Coghill. On her way she was overtaken by Fouché, Duke of Otranto, who did not disguise his annoyance on finding that she, an exile, was in favour at the court of Naples. "Madame," he said, "remember that one must be meek when one is weak." Yes," was the reply, "and others ought to be just when they are strong." Nothing, indeed, could exceed the kindliness of the reception which the fair Juliette met with at the court of Naples. Apart from all kinds and descriptions of favours and attentions conferred upon her, precedence was also given to her even over all the ladies of the court. That fatuous young personage, M. de Rohan-Chabot, was also high in

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favour with the queen, but we are assured that "il ne profita de cet avantage que dans une mesure très innocente." Indeed, he died penitent and in the odour of sanctity, which was the highest flight attempted by his limited intelligence.

Murat's position at this moment was one of exceeding perplexity. The battle of Leipzig had shaken the soil from under Napoleon's feet. Murat owed his position to the Emperor, but he felt that at his downfal he could only hold it by permission of the allies. To save his crown, Murat, pressed by England and Austria, signed his adhesion to the coalition on the 11th of January, 1814. That very day, whilst still under the influence of conflicting interests, he went into the queen's apartment, and found Madame Récamier there. Hoping to obtain comfort from her, he appealed to her as to what she would do under similar circumstances? "You are a Frenchman, sire," she said; "and, above all things, you must remain faithful to France." Murat turned pale, and throwing open with some violence a window that led out upon a balcony overlooking the sea, "Am I a traitor, then ?" he exclaimed, pointing at the same time to the English fleet that was entering the harbour of Naples all sails set; and then casting himself upon a sofa he covered his face with his hands and burst into tears. Alas, how little do the masses think of what those in high places have often to suffer and to put up with!-in our own times more than in any other, when it seems as if the ties of high-principled courtesy which formerly invariably attached themselves to international relations were being sapped in their very existence-altogether cast to the dogs. In this case it was a tried and gallant old soldier, who became as weak as a child before the just decisions of an all-wise Providence; the next, it may be the pride and arrogance of a fortunate adventurer that may tumble from the giddy pinnacle of an unsafe pre-eminence.

The fall of Napoleon once more opened the gates of Paris to Madame Récamier, and she was far too much of a Parisian to sacrifice a moment at Naples, Rome, or Florence, that could be spent among her friends in the capital of the civilised world. On her way back, however, she was present at the restoration of the Pope-an act effected amidst the almost delirious enthusiasm of a frivolous and inconsistent population; and with her characteristic consideration she visited General Miollis-in command of the French army of occupation when she was last in Rome-now secluded in a villa, with a single attendant. At Lyons she also visited M. Ballanche and Camille Jordan; in her own country the fair exile was now the object of ovations wherever she went.

This restoration of hereditary monarchy and of the monarchy of beauty at the same time was followed by a brief but pleasant era in Madame Récamier's existence. She had lost nothing either in the perfection of her charms or the brilliancy of her beauty, and she now superadded to these the attraction of a beautiful and innocent person long persecuted by the fallen powers. To use the words of her zealous biographer at this period of her life, "L'élite de la société Européene lui décerna l'empire incontesté de la mode et de la beauté." It was only a restoration of a monarchy, then, so far as the king was concerned; it was that of an empire in the case of the fair Juliette. M. Récamier had likewise begun to reinstate himself once more in business. He could afford a carriage to Juliette, all the more necessary, as we are told, "qu'elle ne savait pas

marcher à pied dans la rue." And she had her Opera-box. Madame de Staël, being at Coppet, had got back to Paris before her; M. de Montmorency was also now high in favour at court; Madame Récamier's influence over this renowned family was remarkable. Three generations frequented her salons. There was the old duke still alive, Adrien de Montmorency; the Prince of Laval, his son; and Henri de Montmorency, grandson, who entertained the same passionate admiration for the fair Juliette as did all the other members of the family. Adrien de Montmorency used to smile at these impressions to which all the members of the family had succumbed. "They did not all die of it," he used to say, "but they were all victims." With all the great names of the monarchy of old, those who had emigrated, or those who had served under the Empire, there came also to the same salons representatives of the Revolution, among whom were Madame Bernadotte, who could not stand the climate of her husband's kingdom, and who preferred fashionable life in Paris to a throne in Sweden.

It was at this epoch that the beautiful Juliette first met the Duke of Wellington at Madame de Staël's. She left behind her a summary of what she intended to leave to posterity as the account of her relations with the English general:

Enthusiasm of Madame de Staël for the Duke of Wellington.-I see him, for the first time, at her house.-Conversation during dinner.-Visit he paid me the day after; Madame de Staël met him at my house.-Conversation about him after his departure. The visits of Lord Wellington become numerous.-His opinion on popularity. I present him to Queen Hortense.-Party at the Duchesse de Luynes's.-Conversation with the Duke of Wellington before a glass without quicksilver.-M. de Talleyrand and the Duchess of Courland.Admiration of M. de Talleyrand for me.--. -Aversion which I have always felt for him.-Madame de Boigne stops me at the moment when I am going out with the Duke of Wellington. Continuation of his visits.--Madame de Staël desires that I should exercise influence over him.-He writes me little insignificant notes, one like another.—I lend him the letters of Mademoiselle de Lespinasse, which have not come out.-His opinion of those letters. He leaves Paris.-I see him again after the Battle of Waterloo.-He comes to see me the day after his return. I do not expect him: the agitation which his visit causes me. He comes again in the evening, and finds my door shut.-I refuse also to see him the next day. He writes to Madame de Staël to complain of me.-I do not see him more. His situation and success in French society. They say that he is engrossed with a young English lady, the wife of one of his aides-de-camp.— Return of Madame de Staël to Paris.-Dinner at the Queen of Sweden's with her and the Duke of Wellington, whom I see again.-His coldness to me, his occupation with the young English lady.-I am placed at dinner betwixt him and the Duke de Broglie. He is moody at the beginning of dinner, but gradually warms up and ends by becoming very amiable.-I am aware of the mortification which the young English lady opposite feels.-I cease to talk with him, and occupy myself exclusively with the Duc de Broglie.-From that time I see the Duke of Wellington but very rarely.-He made me a visit at the Abbaye-auxBois, when he came last to Paris.

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A note of the Duke's is very superciliously qualified by the biographer "insignificant;" whereas, compared with many of the sneaking, sickening, sentimental letters and effusions that help to fill up these two cumbrous tomes, it is really quite a relief. There is politeness, but there is neither obsequiousness nor servility in it. We will give it in the duke's own French :

Paris, le 20 Octobre 1814. J'étais tout hier à la chasse, madame, et je n'ai reçu votre billet et les livres qu'à la nuit, quand c'était trop tard pour vous répondre. J'espérais que mon jugement serait guidé par le vôtre dans ma lecture des lettres de Mademoiselle Espinasse, et je désespère de pouvoir le former moi-même. Je vous suis bien obligé pour la pamphlete de Madame de Staël. Votre très obéissant et fidel serviteur,

WELLINGTON.

The fragments left by Madame Récamier would seem to show that the Duke was enticed into the same society as others, partly by the wiles of the lady, partly by its being the fashion of the day to frequent her salons. That Madame Récamier exerted all her various arts to charm the warrior, the assiduous transmission of books is quite sufficient to attest; that the influence gained was of the most superficial character is again sufficiently shown by the "insignificance" of the "notes," and the spite vented by the fair Juliette, at first in declining to receive the victor of Waterloo, and then in outbidding, by her social charms, the young wife of the British aide-de-camp.

According to Madame Ancelot, a contemporary rival, and whose opinions, therefore, if open to question on the point of misrepresentation, are still of high value, as those of one clever and aspiring woman of another, attributes all Madame Récamier's successes to the instinct which had revealed to her that pride and vanity are always the vulnerable points by which the human species can be dominated:

From the first to the last, author or artist, all have heard from Madame Récamier's mouth that same laudatory formula when they came for the first time. She would say to them, with a weak and trembling voice:

"The emotion which I feel at the sight of a person of eminence does not permit me to express to you as I would all the admiration-the sympathy with which I am penetrated. But you can guess-you can understand. My emotion speaks of itself—”

This laudatory formula, a kind of calculated hesitation, broken phrases, and soft and troubled looks, made those who were thus received believe in the reality of this pretended emotion.

It was to this artifice of universal flattery that Madame Récamier was indebted for her great success, and the advantage of gathering around her the most eminent men of her epoch.

It must be noticed that all this was done in almost a whisper, so that it was never heard except by the person to whom it was addressed, and that she used to display infinite grace in the manner in which she uttered it; for Madame Récamier, who was not possessed of the art of conversation, possessed in the highest degree the skill and address by which to effect her combinations, so that she should arrive at the end which she proposed to herself; when she had made up her mind that such and such a remarkable man should be one at her salon, the imperceptible threads that, spider-like, she cast out in his way, were so cleverly wove that it was impossible he should escape.

The salons of Madame Récamier were, according to Madame Ancelot, like those of the Viscount d'Arlincourt-" soirées de vanité;" but this is going too far. That there was vanity in them-that indeed they were based upon vanity-there cannot be the slightest doubt; but there was also much that is curious and interesting to study in the peculiar gifts of one who could assemble around her all that was distinguished in birth

or position, in talent or genius, that existed in or even visited the metropolis, and that, too, under different forms of government and different régimes.

There is still a second Restoration to deal with: the so-called seclusion in the Abbaye-aux-Bois-the dominant influence of M. de Chateaubriand -another residence in Italy-the fall of the ministère Polignac-Madame Récamier's relations with the then Prince Louis Napoleon-the blindness of the once fair Juliette-the gradual disappearance one after another of all her old ties, and her own final exit from the theatre of her triumphs and successes. We may, possibly, return to some of these picturesque sketches of a life full of social charms as well as of social vanities, and so highly characteristic of the times, the breath of which is as yet scarcely wafted away from the utilitarianism that has succeeded to them, without either fragrance or beauty to redeem or indemnify its cold and egotistical austerity.

HANS ERNST MITTERKAMP:

AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.

IN THE YEARS 1775-1813.

BY THE AUTHOR OF "BRIMELSEA."

X.

HOPE RESTORED.

"POOR Weimar! could you be the town I had left? Had a few short hours been able to work such ruin ?" Alas! yes; house-doors were open, furniture and valuables lay broken in the street; smouldering ruins showed where a house had been; shops were shut, windows smashed, drunken soldiers reeled about, and here and there a dead body lay unheeded in the general confusion, showing but too plainly that war was the bitter, merciless worker of all this devastation.

And this ruined town was the peaceful little capital of the grandduke, my native place-the German Athens-Weimar! and the ambition of one man had caused all this cruel desolation. My blood boiled at the thought, but I was sick at heart. "Are they safe ?" was my first inquiry. I went to the house in the Frauenplan, the street-door was open, I entered; confusion and disorder met my gaze at every step: a French soldier lay in a drunken sleep upon the floor. I stepped over his body, and went further in. There was not a thing that was not displaced or overturned; the neat rooms my aunt took such pride in were not recognisable; I heard voices in the rooms above, but they were the harsh voices of men speaking in a foreign tongue. Not a trace of those I sought was to be found. "Where could they be?" I sat down weary and dispirited upon a chair that happened to be standing upright and entire, and cast my eyes leisurely around to see if there were anything to guide