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easures of the Government were freely discussed and criticized in her salon； and men went out with positions well defined and speeches well considered。 The Duchesse d'Abrantes relates an incident which aptly illustrates this power and its reaction upon herself。 Benjamin Constant had prepared a brilliant address。 The evening before it was to be delivered； Mme。 de Stael was surrounded by a large and distinguished company。 After tea was served he said to her：
〃Your salon is filled with people who please you； if I speak tomorrow； it will be deserted。 Think of it。〃
〃One must follow one's convictions；〃 she replied； after a moment's hesitation。
She admitted afterward that she would never have refused his offer not to compromise her； if she could have foreseen all that would follow。
The next day she invited her friends to celebrate his triumph。 At four o'clock a note of excuse； in an hour； ten。 From this time her fortunes waned。 Many ceased to visit her salon。 Even Talleyrand； who owed her so much； came there no more。
In later years she confessed that the three men she had most loved were Narbonne； Talleyrand； and Mathieu de Montmorency。 Her friendship for the first of these reached a passionate exaltation； which had a profound and not altogether wholesome influence upon her life。 How completely she was disenchanted is shown in a remark she made long afterward of a loyal and distinguished man： 〃He has the manners of Narbonne and a heart。〃 It is a character in a sentence。 Mathieu de Montmorency was a man of pure motives； who proved a refuge of consolation in many storms； but her regard for him was evidently a gentler flame that never burned to extinction。 Whatever illusions she may have had as to Talleyrandand they seem to have been little more than an enthusiastic appreciation of his talentwere certainly broken by his treacherous desertion in her hour of need。 Not the least among her many sorrows was the bitter taste of ingratitude。
But Napoleon； who； like Louis XIV； sought to draw all influences 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 playedthe 〃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 Coppet。 Its limited horizon pressed upon her。 The silence of the snowcapped mountains chilled her。 She looked upon their solitary grandeur with 〃magnificent horror。〃 The repose of nature was an 〃infernal peace〃 which plunged her into gloomier depths of ennui and despair。 To some one who was admiring the beauties of Lake Leman she replied； 〃I should like better the gutters of the Rue du Bac。〃 It was people； always people； who interested her。 〃French conversation exists only in Paris；〃 she said； 〃and conversation has been from infancy my greatest pleasure。〃 Restlessly she sought distraction in travel； but wherever she went the iron hand pressed upon her still。 Italy fostered her melancholy。 She loved its ruins； which her imagination draped with the fading colors of the past and associated with the desolation of a living soul。 But its exquisite variety of landscape and color does not seem to have touched her。 〃If it were not for the world's opinion；〃 she said； 〃I would not open my window to see the Bay of Naples for the first time； but I would travel five hundred leagues to talk with a clever man whom I have not met。〃 Germany gave her infinite food for thought； but her 〃astonishing volubility；〃 her 〃incessant movement；〃 her constant desire to know； to discuss； to penetrate all things wearied the moderate Germans； as it had already wearied the serious English。 〃Tell me； Monsieur Fichte；〃 she said one day； 〃could you in a short time； a quarter of an hour for example； give me a glimpse of your system and explain what you understand by your ME； I find it very obscure。〃 The philosopher was amazed at what he thought her impertinence； but made the attempt through an interpreter。 At the end of ten minutes she exclaimed； 〃That is sufficient； Monsieur Fichte。 That is quite sufficient。 I comprehend you perfectly。 I have seen your system in illustration。 It is one of the adventures of Baron Munchhausen。〃 〃We are in perpetual mental tension；〃 said the wife of Schiller。 Even Schiller himself grew tired。 〃It seems as if I were relieved of a malady；〃 he said； when she left。
It was this excess of vivacity and her abounding sensibility that constituted at once her fascination and her misfortune。 Her beliefs were enthusiasms。 Her friendships were passions。 〃No one has carried the religion of friendship so far as myself；〃 she said。 To love； to be loved was the supreme need of her soul； but her love was a flame that irradiated her intellect and added brilliancy to the life it consumed。 She paints in 〃Corinne〃 the passions； the struggles； the penalties； and the sorrows of a woman of genius。 It is a life she had known； a life of which she had tasted the sweetest delights and exper