DC 
 
 I &*- 
 
 CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
Cornell University Library 
 DC 255.G96W82 1882 
 
 Monsieur Guizot In private life. 1787-18 
 
 3 1924 028 167 207 
 
 
 -7- 
 
1=^' 
 
 XI 
 
 Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of this book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924028167207 
 
I i-tyi^ 
 
MONSIEUR GUIZOT 
 
 IN PRIYATE LIFE. 
 
 1787-1874. 
 
 BT HIS DAUGHTER, 
 
 MADAME DE WITT. 
 
 AUTHORISED EDITION. 
 
 TBAN SLATED BY 
 
 M. C. M. SIMPSON, 
 
 TEANSLATOK 01 " NAPOLEON's LETTEKS TO KING JOSEPH ; " " MEMOJR AND REMAINS OP 
 ALEXIS DE TOCQUEVILLE ; " " M1CHELET*S SUMilAaY OP MODEKN HISTOEY," ETC. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 ESTES AND LAURIAT, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 299-305 WASHUfOTOii Stkeet. 
 
 1882. 
 
 A '^^'U 
 
 f' 
 
 It I KAI.V/': 
 
Copyright, 1880, 
 By Estes and Laukiat. 
 
 
 UNIVERSITY press: 
 JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBKIDGE. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 ' I AM weary of seeing my friends die,' said M. Guizot 
 on the twenty-ninth of August, 1867, as he stood 
 beside the grave of his friend Herbet; and this 
 thought was ever in his mind. While still young, he 
 had lost many that were dear to him, and his old age 
 was repeatedly saddened by the departure of those 
 companions of his long life who preceded him into 
 eternity. He even survived nearly all the friends 
 whose public career had begun long after his own. 
 Many of them might have told the history of their 
 common lives : they died before him, and it became 
 his duty to render homage to their memory. On 
 several occasions he endeavoured to make known 
 to the world the nobility of the soul and the great 
 intelligence of those who had passed away. Not 
 one of them, however, stood more in need than he 
 himself did of this last solemn tribute. His whole 
 life was devoted to his country, and his country knew 
 onlv his external life and character. The most 
 
iv PBEPACB. 
 
 precious, if not the most splendid ' of the gifts be- 
 stowed on him by God were hidden within the small 
 circle of those whom he loved. This is the reason 
 why the public did not always understand his char- 
 acter, his motives, or his objects. It is this mistaken 
 view which I earnestly desire to rectify. I do not 
 propose to retrace my father's public career ; he has 
 already, in his Memoirs, written all that he wished 
 to have said about it. It is himself that I desire to 
 make known to a generation which soon will have 
 ceased to be his. Some extracts taken from his 
 private correspondence will, I hope, attain this end. 
 I have not untU now had the courage to make the 
 selection. 
 
NOTE BY THE TRANSLATOR. 
 
 'M. GuizoT is never greater or more amiable than 
 in his own family.' 
 
 These are the concluding words of Mr. Senior's 
 record of our delightful visit to Val-Eicher ; and all 
 who read the following pages will agree in their 
 truth, and will acknowledge that Madame de Witt 
 has nobly and completely fulfilled the task she pro- 
 posed to herself of making known to the world her 
 father himself, and thus preventing his being handed 
 down to posterity as ' the stiff, tragical, and solitary 
 personage that will end by becoming legendary, and 
 as false as any other legend ' (see p. 315). 
 
 No one, however, who had the happiness of know- 
 ing M Guizot would have recognized him in the 
 'legendary' character here described by himself. 
 Nothing could be more open and friendly than his 
 manner, which at once set his youngest and most 
 insignificant visitor at ease ; his voice was in itself a 
 cordial, and neither age nor sorrow ever dimmed the 
 
Tl NOTE BY THE TKANSLATOE. 
 
 brightness of his eye or diminished the vivacity of his 
 mind. In the words of M. de Tocqueville, ' Guizot is 
 always charming. He has an aplomb, an ease, a verve 
 — arising from his security that whatever he says 
 will interest and amuse. He is a perfect picture 
 of an ex-statesman — homme de lettres et pere de 
 famille — falling back on literature and the domestic 
 affections.' 
 
 It is with great diffidence that I offer this English 
 translation to the public. I cannot hope that it does 
 justice to the grace and spirit of the original which is 
 so evidently written with the pen of love. Still I 
 hope that its substance has been preserved, and that 
 some readers may be grateful for this imperfect ver- 
 sion of Madame de Witt's charming book. 
 
 M. C. M. S. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. Childhood and Eaelt Education . . , , 1 
 
 II. Law Studies and Religious Opinions ... 11 
 
 III. LiTKKAET AND SOCIAL OCCUPATIONS .... 20 
 
 IV. Courtship and Makeiage 33 
 
 V. Entrance into Public Life 46 
 
 VI. LiTEEAET Occupations of M. and Madame 
 
 GuizoT 61 
 
 VII. Domestic Happiness — Death op Madame 
 
 Pauline Guizot 80 
 
 VIII. His Lectuees — His Second Maeeiage . . . 92 
 IX. Renewed Happiness — He ee-entees Public 
 
 Life 103 
 
 X. Political Vicissitudes — The Choleea . • 123 
 XI. Public Education — Death op Madame Elisa 
 
 Guizot 139 
 
 XII. Val-Richee — Death op Fean^ois Guizot . 158 
 Xm. Death op the Duchesse de Beoglie — Let- 
 tees to his Childeen 181 
 
 XIV. Embassy in England — Inteeest in Val- 
 Richee 193 
 
Yin CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PA&K 
 
 XV. Madame Guizot — Life in England . . . 209 
 XVI. Eeturn to France — He accepts the For- 
 eign Office 224 
 
 XVII. Revolution — Exile — Death op Madame 
 
 Guizot 241 
 
 XVIII. Return from Exile — The Coup d'^at . 263 
 XIX. Literary WpEK — Pleasure in his Grand- 
 children 284 
 
 XX. Visit to England — Demolition op his 
 
 House 308 
 
 XXI. His 'Memoirs' and 'Meditations' .... 319 
 XXII. Finishes his Two Works — Franco-German 
 
 War 328 
 
 XXIII. Death of his Younger Daughter — His 
 
 Last Illness and Death 347 
 
 Index 359 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTEATIOJS'S. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 GuizOT Frontispiece 
 
 The Keign of Tekeok 4 
 
 The Revolution 10 
 
 M. Neckek 36 
 
 eotee-collakd 46 
 
 Madame Pauline Guizot 80 
 
 Madame Eliza Guizot 100 
 
 Chateaubriand 106 
 
 Casimir Pekier 112 
 
 Charles X 120 
 
 Laffitte 124 
 
 Louis Philippe at the Hotel de Ville 132 
 
 La Fayette 138 
 
 Marshal Soult 142 
 
 Guizot ^t. 45 158 
 
 Francois Guizot 168 
 
 M. MoL^ 180 
 
 Chateau of Fontainebleau 186 
 
 M. Thiers 194 
 
 Val Eichee 208 
 
X LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 WiNDSOE Castle , . . 218 
 
 Sir Eobeet Peel 238 
 
 Madame Guizot (Mother of M. Guizot) 256 
 
 Louis Philippe c 273 
 
 Lord Aberdeen 310 
 
 La Eeine Amelie 328 
 
 Le Due DE Broglie 334 
 
 Guizot ^t. 80 Years 350 
 
MONSIEUR GUIZOT 
 
 IN PRIYATE LIFE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 1787-1805. 
 
 CHILDHOOD AND EAELY EDUCATION. 
 
 FEANgois-PiEEEE-GuiLLAUME GrUizoT was born at 
 Nimes on the fourth of October, 1787. Both his 
 father and mother belonged to old Protestant 
 families which during the religious persecutions 
 furnished several pastors to the Desert.''' 
 
 They were both young, and tenderly attached to 
 each other. Madame Guizot (Sophie-Elisabeth 
 Bonicel), clever, pretty, lively, fond of music and 
 dancing, and excelling in both, obstinately refused 
 to marry — according to the fashion of those days. 
 
 * ' To retire to the Desert ' meant, in the language used of the 
 Port-Royalists, to shut oneself up in a narrow retreat. 
 
 ' To go to hear God's words in the Desert ' was the expression 
 used by the Protestants when, after the revocation of the Edict 
 of Nantes, they assembled in out-of-the-way and desert places to 
 hear their preachers, who were interdicted under severe penalties. 
 (From Littr^'s Dictionary.) — Tr. 
 
 1 
 
2 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IX PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 and sometimes, even, of our own — for the sake of 
 family or fortune. She often used to tell, laughingly, 
 of a persevering suitor, whom she finally got rid of 
 by singing to him a ballad of the time : — 
 
 ' If ever I take a husband 
 It must be from the hands of love.' 
 
 Mademoiselle Bonicel was one-and-twenty, and 
 M. Andr^-Franqois Guizot had attained the same age, 
 when they were married on the twenty-seventh of 
 December, 1786, by a pastor whose ministry was 
 still proscribed. M. de Rulhieres and M. de Male- 
 sherbes had long been pleading the cause of the 
 French Protestants. M. de la Fayette joined his 
 efforts to theirs. In the Assembly of Notables he 
 had the honour of supporting the proposed measure 
 for granting civil rights to Protestants. M. de 
 Calonne, prime minister of Louis XVI. at that time, 
 introduced it, and the Parliament urged its adoption. 
 At length, in the month of December, 1787, a royal 
 edict secured to the French Protestants their elemen- 
 tary rights ; but the measure was not retroactive, 
 and the birth of M. Guizot was never legally 
 registered. 
 
 The long-endured sufferings of the Protestants 
 naturally aroused their ardent sympathy in favour 
 of the reforming movement which had obtained their 
 liberty. Andre-Fran qois Guizot, already a well- 
 known and distinguished advocate, followed the 
 same impulse as his co-religionists : he took an 
 active part in political meetings, where his brilliant 
 eloquence soon attracted attention. 
 
CHILDHOOD AND EAELT EDUCATION. 6 
 
 My grandmother, during her long and faithful 
 widowhood, often said to her son, after he had taken 
 liis place among the great orators of his country : 
 ' You inherit your talents from your father ; if he 
 had lived he would have become celebrated.' 
 
 But soon these generous hopes were disappointed. 
 The consciences of all honest men were disturbed ; 
 and many who had entered joyfully upon the new 
 path, found themselves obliged to stop or to retrace 
 their steps : the Revolution fell into the hands of the 
 Jacobins. The Reign of Terror began throughout 
 France ; it was felt most cruelly in the south, and 
 those who sought to oppose its force soon became its 
 victims. For several weeks in danger of his life, a 
 fugitive from one asylum to another, protected by 
 the devotion of a few friends, Andre-Franqois Guizot 
 was at length arrested. The gendarme who dis- 
 covered his retreat had long known him — he was in 
 despair. ' Shall I let you escape 1 ' he said to his 
 prisoner. 'Are you married 1 ' was the quick re- 
 sponse. ' Yes,' said the gendarme, ' I have two 
 children.' ' And so have I,' returned ,his prisoner ; 
 ' but you would have to pay for me — let us go on ! ' 
 A few days after M. Guizot died on the scaffold. At 
 the moment when his sentence was pronounced, he 
 recognised in the revolutionary tribunal some men 
 tliat he had formerly known, and called on them to 
 appear in their turn before the judgment-seat of God. 
 More than one of his judges was made uneasy by 
 his eloquence. 
 
 One consolation only remained to his wife in the 
 
4 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PEIVATE LIFE. 
 
 calamity which ruined her life for ever. From the 
 prison in which he had been confined for several 
 days, Andr^-Franqois Gruizot wrote to her a long 
 and tender letter, somewhat tinged with^the exagge- 
 ration of the period, but nevertheless simple and 
 courageous, like the heart which dictated it and the 
 one to which it was addressed. Madame Guizot was 
 ill, and not able to see her husband again: his 
 children alone bade him farewell. 
 
 At her death, which took place in England on the 
 thirty -first of March, 1848, on the morrow of another 
 revolution, that exhausted the last remnant of her 
 strength, she murmured, in a voice still firm, in spite 
 of her weakness, ' I am going to join him ! ' And 
 those who paid the last duties to her remains, found 
 upon her heart the farewell letter of the husband 
 whom she had so exclusively and devotedly loved. 
 
 The prisoner's two children were brought to him 
 at the ' House of Justice.' The elder, Franqois, was 
 only six and a half years old; his brother, Jean- 
 Jacques, was two years younger. The remembrance 
 of their father's person became gradually effaced, 
 there was no portrait to fix it in their memory. My 
 father, however, recollected his visit to the prison, 
 and still more distinctly the day when the news of 
 Robespierre's fall reached Nimes. Madame Guizot 
 was with her children on the terrace of her house, 
 and she knelt down with them to thank God for 
 the deliverance of France. Since the fatal day of 
 her bereavement the young widow had not once 
 appeared in the street. Mourning was forbidden to 
 
o 
 
 El 
 
 g 
 
 pa 
 P3 
 
 a 
 
CHILDHOOD AND EAELT EDUCATION. 5 
 
 the relations of the victims — so many black gar- 
 ments would have betrayed the ravages of the Reign 
 of Terror. 
 
 From that time Madame Guizot's life belonged 
 entirely to her children. Her husband had asked 
 her to live for their sake ; she lived, therefore, but 
 the indelible impression of her grief never faded 
 from her mind. For a long time the sorrow which 
 overwhelmed her weighed even upon her sons. 
 Her passionate nature spent all its strength in the 
 eflFort to endure her pain. The soft liveliness and 
 gay vivacity which had distinguished her in early 
 life, and which at times came back in the calm of 
 old age, were succeeded by a certain austerity. ' I 
 shed so many tears,' she used to say, ' in my little 
 room. They say that weeping spoils the eyes — I 
 ought to have become blind ! ' Her listeners looked 
 with tender astonishment at her beautiful eyes, still 
 brilliant and penetrating as they had been in youth. 
 'Yes,' she would reply, with a smile, 'I have in- 
 deed wept much.' 
 
 She had not forgotten her tears, when, forty-six 
 years later, on her son's birthday (he was then am- 
 bassador in England), she wrote : ' I slept little last 
 night, my dear son. My thoughts kept me wide 
 awake, and I did not try to banish them. I was 
 with you. I went back to the date of the fourth 
 of October, 1787, to that day beginning with great 
 physical suffering, ending in such exquisite, deeply- 
 felt joy, both to me and to your excellent father, 
 who was as tender to his children as you are to 
 
6 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PEIYATE LIFE. 
 
 yours. I think I see him now, carrying you in his 
 arms to my bedside, agitated, his eyes full of tears 
 as he said to me, " Here is our son, we shall love 
 him dearly, shall we not 1 and our happiness will be 
 greater than ever." I love to repeat to you these 
 words with which every day of his life, I can attest, 
 was in accordance. A noble, elevated, loving soul, 
 an excellent enlightened understanding — such was 
 the husband whom God bestowed on me, my child, 
 and I fully appreciated his worth. Alas ! the days 
 of misery soon came to overwhelm me, and it was 
 with difficulty, with great difficulty, that I resigned 
 myself to God's will. I had promised my beloved 
 to live for our children, to supply to them his place 
 as well as my own, and all my energy with God's 
 help has been devoted to this task, — a long and hard 
 one for my poor broken and often failing heart, — 
 but the impression of my sufferings has never worn 
 away, any more than that of the happiness which 
 was once mine. The remembrance of that happi- 
 ness has remained alive in my heart of hearts, it 
 has been associated with all my joys and sorrows, 
 and it has often helped me in bearing the burthen 
 of existence. 
 
 ' My dear son, this was the first part of my long 
 life ; during the second your trials have been added 
 to my own, I have shared them all. You may, per- 
 haps, not always have known how great was my love, 
 but I do not think that any love could be greater. 
 I SRj this without any pride, but with humility and 
 gratitude ; for I owe this gift of loving to God, who 
 
CHILDHOOD AND EARLY EDUCATION. 7 
 
 has bestowed it on me so generously that even now, 
 in my old age, the spring lias not yet dried up. 
 Your dear children have found me as young and as 
 loving as if I were only twenty. I bless Grod for it 
 with all my heart. I wanted to speak to you of 
 your father. I have, perhaps, done so too seldom, 
 but I yielded to circumstances — you knew so little 
 of him. And yet you are like him in many respects, 
 and every time that I detect this resemblance it is to 
 me a source of tender consolation. But what more 
 can I now add to what I have already said? That I 
 earnestly pray for you, that I implore our heavenly 
 Father to guard you — all this you know, my dear 
 son ; at nine o'clock, when the children are dressed, 
 we will all four pray together, and each one will 
 offer his own little prayer in his own way.' 
 
 The passionate devotion which inspired the whole 
 life of Madame Guizot claimed her energies at the 
 moment when the most terrible grief had taken pos- 
 session of her soul. All around her was nothing 
 but suffering. Her mother had fifteen children, of 
 whom she was the eldest ; several died in infancy ; 
 two daughters, one in the flower of her youth, the 
 other, almost a child, died during those bitter days, 
 shattered by the violent convulsions which agitated 
 at that time every life. M. Gruizot remembered his 
 young aunts, and the void created in the house by 
 their death. 
 
 My father and his brothers, however, did not suf- 
 fer; they yielded a willing obedience to their mother's 
 authority, even taking her part against the weak in- 
 
8 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 dulgence of their grand parents. An extraordinary 
 power of command became henceforth the princi- 
 pal feature in Madame Guizot's character; she exer- 
 cised it with all the ardour of a strong mind sorely 
 stricken but rigidly bracing itself to endure the 
 weight of sorrow and responsibility. The education 
 of her children was her principal occupation ; France 
 at that time offered few resources ; among the vague 
 projects which passed through the minds of the 
 chiefs of the Revolution, public instruction had 
 held a place more apparent than real, and the cen- 
 tral schools established in several directions failed 
 to answer the end they had in view. Madame 
 Guizot resolved to leave everything in order to 
 seek at Geneva the means of education which were 
 wanting at Nimes. 
 
 It is a distinguishing feature in the work of Cal- 
 vin that every institution founded by him has with- 
 stood, in a remarkable degree, the effects of time. 
 In 1799, when Madame Guizot arrived at Geneva 
 with her two children, and accompanied by her 
 father, who was anxious to settle her in her new 
 abode, she found the Gymnasium and the Auditories, 
 as they were called, conducted in the same way as 
 they were in the sixteenth century, under the pow- 
 erful influence of their founder. 
 
 Madame Guizot's education, like that of most of 
 the young girls of that period, had been somewhat 
 superficial. She had, however, the good fortune to 
 meet in her early youth with an intelligent .teacher, 
 who inspired her with an ardent love for learning. 
 
CHILDHOOD AND EARLY EDUCATION. 9 
 
 tlie traces of which remained to the very end of her 
 life. She was also animated by a firm resolution to 
 cultivate in her sons, especially the elder one, the 
 natural gifts which were already perceptible. Fran- 
 Qois Guizot was eleven years old when his mother 
 established herself at Geneva ; but he was hardly 
 six when his mother found him one day standing 
 on the ledge of the bookcase passionately declaim- 
 ing the imprecations of Camille,* which had cap- 
 tivated his imagination. He did not, however, 
 preserve any very definite recollections of his child- 
 hood and his early studies ; the strong will and ab- 
 solute direction of his mother entirely absorbed his 
 existence. 
 
 Madame Guizot established herself in a small 
 house opposite to the one inhabited by the Professor 
 who directed the education of her sons ; she was 
 present at all their lessons, she took part in all their 
 work, she studied for and with her children ; some- 
 times in the winter when the severe climate of 
 Geneva covered their little hands with chilblains the 
 mother wrote their exercises from their dictation. 
 My father preserved several copybooks thus written. 
 
 They led a hard and simple life. Madame Gui- 
 zot's small fortune suff'ered from the disturbed state 
 of France ; the system of ' assignats ' had diminished 
 the resources of the country. The mother resolved 
 to devote all she had to the education of her chil- 
 dren. Their table was plainly served : Madame 
 
 * Corneille's tragedy, Les Horaces. — Tk. 
 
10 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 Guizot had no assistance in the household work, 
 except that of a woman who came in for a few hours 
 every day ; but, on the other hand, her sons attended 
 the lectures of the best professors ; they took lessons 
 in riding, swimming, and drawing; at the same 
 time she made them learn a trade, in accordance 
 with the teaching of Rousseau, to which the violent 
 sliocks sustained by French society during the 
 Revolution had given practical influence. Francois 
 Guizot became a skilful joiner, and excelled in 
 turning. 
 
 Year after year went by, actively and usefully 
 employed, so austerely devoted to work and duty, 
 that M. Guizot's mind never lost the impression it 
 then received. His mother seldom left her home; 
 she could not bear society. Music, which she had 
 once passionately loved, was now painful to her — 
 even in church she could not bear it : the art, how- 
 ever, retained so great an influence over her that 
 when, towards the end of her life, she was present 
 at a concert at the Ministere des Affaires JEtrangeres, 
 in which the artists from the ' Conservatoire ' took 
 part, her nerves were shaken for several days. Now 
 and then during the summer she accompanied her 
 sons in their excursions round the Lake of Geneva ; 
 the extreme beauty of the scenery exercised a soft 
 and powerful influence over her mind. This sort of 
 enjoyment never ceased to please and to soothe her. 
 At the age of eighty her eyes would sparkle at the 
 sight of a new wild flower. 
 
v.. * 
 
 
 
 ac 
 
 ji ' 
 
 
 o 
 
 b 
 
 -) 
 o 
 > 
 
 05 
 » 
 
 EH 
 
 O 
 
 a 
 
 o 
 
 OS 
 
CHAPTER 11. 
 
 1805-9. 
 
 LAW STUDIES AND RELIGIOUS OPINIONS. 
 
 In 1805 M. Guizot's education was finished, as far 
 as an education can be finished at the age of eigh- 
 teen. His mother enjoyed his success, with all the 
 intensity of her passionate heart. 
 
 She had known him so absorbed in his work that 
 his companions in vain attempted to divert his atten- 
 tion by all sorts of practical jokes. It was one of 
 their chief amusements to pull his hair or pinch his 
 arms, without ever succeeding in making him raise 
 his eyes. More than once his coat-tails had re- 
 mained in the hands of his persecutors. Yet it was 
 only after he had entered the philosophical school, 
 in the last year of his sojourn at Geneva, that the 
 young man awakened to the sense of his own pow- 
 ers — of his personal existence. ' My recollections 
 go back no further,' M. Guizot was in the habit of 
 saying ; ' it was then only that I began to live.' He 
 preserved all his abstracts of M. Peschier's course of 
 lectures. 
 
 The time had come for a cruel separation. 
 Madame Guizot returned to her parents at Nimes, 
 
12 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 in the course of the summer of 1805. She pre- 
 served the companionship of her second son, but 
 the elder was obliged to go to Paris to commence 
 his law studies, accompanied by one of his fellow- 
 students, who became a faithful and life-long friend 
 — M. Achille de Daunant. 
 
 M. Guizot had a taste for literature, poetry, and 
 the serious branches of learning ; he soon exhibited 
 a decided turn for politics. Neither the one nor the 
 other of these inclinations pleased his mother, who 
 did not consider literature as a serious career, and 
 who regarded politics with the terror of a wife whose 
 husband had fallen a victim to the Revolution. He 
 was, therefore, to be an advocate, like his father. 
 He studied law conscientiously, but without taking 
 pleasure in it. Moreover, his life was a sad one in 
 other respects, and his isolation weighed upon him 
 heavily. He frequently wrote to his mother long 
 letters, marked private, which were not, like his 
 other letters, to be communicated to the rest of the 
 family. 
 
 On the twentieth of November, 1806, he attained 
 the age of nineteen : his temperament was melan- 
 choly and his will determined, he was as austere in 
 his opinions as in his conduct 
 
 In the early days of the Empire, and while the 
 license permitted during the Directory had still left 
 its traces everywhere, he wrote to Madame Guizot : 
 
 ' I sent off a long letter to you this morning, my 
 dear mother, and this evening I feel that I must 
 write to you again : this quiet and solitary life leaves 
 
LAW STUDIES AND EELIGIOUS OPINIONS. 13 
 
 me abundant time for reflection ; my ideas are no 
 longer scattered, and my convictions strengthen by 
 concentration. If I did not write to you I should 
 be restless and unhappy. You are the only person 
 to whom I can open my mind without fear ; if I can, 
 I shall write to you every day, and I will send oft 
 my letters every week in a single packet. 
 
 ' You will see in them a faithful picture of my 
 thoughts and opinions ; you may, perhaps, find in 
 them apparent, sometimes even real, inconsistencies. 
 Do not be surprised : I know nothing more uncertain 
 than the human mind, and if a man had not some 
 steadfast principles to cling to from time to time, 
 he could not reckon for a single instant iipon his 
 actions or his desires. 
 
 ' I possess these rallying points, and I consider 
 this to be a great happiness ; God and the religion 
 of Christ are my guides ; Moral Law is the law 
 to which I would refer every question. I look 
 upon every temptation to step aside as a danger, 
 and I disregard every path which does not lead 
 me back to the right road. I have one quality 
 which is, perhaps, favourable to my principles, 
 although it is often reviled by the world — obsti- 
 nacy. I may be wrong, but whenever I think that I 
 am right, the whole universe has no influence upon 
 my opinions ; to change them I must be convinced 
 that I am wrong, so that I am always obliged to be 
 in earnest, and I hope that I shall never fail in this 
 respect. I never put forward my opinions unless I 
 think them better than those of others, and this I 
 
14 MOKSIEUE GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 daresay gives me the appearance of pride. It may 
 indeed be only through pride that I carefully avoid 
 all discussion with those who do not seem to me to 
 share, in reality, my opinions : there is a want of 
 candour in arguing when one is determined not to 
 I'oin the ranks of one's opponents ; in short, I always 
 intend to hold fast, and to proclaim openly, my 
 principles of morality, of religion, and of virtue. I 
 found that I had sensibly weakened them by mak- 
 ing some concessions which were recommended to 
 me ; I began to consider my steadfastness as exag- 
 gerated, and I was beginning to howl with the 
 wolves. I wish to preserve myself from this con- 
 tagion, even if I should fall into extreme severity. 
 It is less hurtful to my character than extreme 
 weakness. 
 
 ' As all things diminish and become weaker with 
 time, the man who at twenty professes the doctrines 
 of Epicurus will have neither principles nor vigour 
 left at fifty ; it was reserved for the century which 
 professed extreme sensibility to set forth as maxims 
 the cowardly and effeminate opinions which destroy 
 morality on pretence of softening manners — and to 
 worship as divine a love without energy ; by trying 
 to make virtue wear a perpetual smile all strength 
 has been taken out of it ; the age was so amiable 
 that it could not be virtuous ; people were so polite 
 that they left off being sincere ; women were so 
 much courted that they ceased to be loved ; they 
 had been so much flattered that it was necessary to 
 grow like them in order to please them ; tenderness 
 
LAW STUDIES AND EELIGIOUS OPINIONS. 15 
 
 was everything, every sentiment that was not ten- 
 der was banished. The charms of virtue were no 
 longer felt in this sentimental mania ; the very name 
 of duty terrified these polite sybarites ; indepen- 
 dence was their God, yet they themselves hung upon 
 a word or a smile, and were the slaves of their least 
 desires as of their most trifling annoyances. I 
 cannot help being indignant when I think of the 
 perpetual efforts they made to remove all the thorns 
 from virtue : they could not rise to her level, so 
 they tried to pull her down to their own ; they no 
 longer possessed the courage to overcome obstacles, 
 and convenient moralists undertook to smoothe over 
 difficulties in order to tranquillise timid consciences. 
 Let us leave to virtue all her difficulties, and at the 
 same time let us redouble our efforts to conqiier 
 them : there are many brambles on the road to 
 heaven — the path which leads thither is not strewn 
 with flowers.' 
 
 It was the remembrance of the inflexibility of his 
 early youth, and of the benefit which he derived 
 from it, which made M. Guizot, in later life, indulgent 
 to young people whose gravity was beyond their 
 years, when he heard them blamed for their narrow- 
 ness and intolerance. ' Let them alone,' he used to 
 say, ' they have plenty of time to lower their tone.' 
 In less than two years from this time the young man, 
 although still imbued with the same aspirations and 
 resolutions, seemed to have a juster appreciation of 
 the weakness of human nature and of the absolute 
 necessity for divine aid. He wrote to his mother on 
 
16 MONSIEUE GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 the fourth of January, 1809: 'I know not why I 
 am so serious, I might say almost sad, to-day. Few 
 days are to my mind so solemn as the one that be- 
 gins the new year. When we look back upon the 
 year which has just passed away, we find that it has 
 been for us so different from what it ought to have 
 been, so full of faults — perhaps serious faults — that 
 it is impossible not to tremble for the one about to 
 follow. The weakness of our resolutions, our vacil- 
 lations of purpose, distress and sometimes frighten 
 me. The older I grow the more I feel how essential 
 is religion to give man the energy and love of good- 
 ness which he needs. I am convinced that without 
 religion, without the continual help of God, man can 
 never succeed in wiping out the original stain which 
 defiles his nature, nor attain to the holiness and 
 purity which ought to be in him who would worship 
 God in spirit and in truth. The idea that the 
 moment in which we commit a fault escapes and 
 carries away its consequences beyond the possibility 
 of recall, is terrible ; it would be enough to paralyse 
 our faculties, if faith did not in a measure restore 
 our confidence. It is like passing from Hell to 
 Heaven when we leave the spectacle of our weak- 
 ness and our faults, to contemplate in Jesus Christ 
 the model of what God intended man to become. 
 It is delightful to think of this ideal of human per- 
 fection ; it fills without agitating, humbles without 
 overwhelming, the human heart, and gives us at 
 the same time strength, courage, consolation, and 
 hope. 
 
LAW STUDIES AND RELIGIOUS OPINIONS. 17 
 
 * I know of no enjoyment so great as that of med- 
 itating on the divine character of Christ — on the 
 goodness of Grod in giving it to man to be a lamp 
 unto his feet and a hght unto his path. Weary of 
 the vices, the errors, the degradation it meets in 
 every direction, the soul turns with inexpressible 
 happiness to the beloved Saviour, stained by no 
 vice, misled by no error, untouched by any imper- 
 fection. I will not allow myself to enlarge upon 
 this subject ; it is for me an abundant source of 
 thought and feeling, and I dare not in the attempt 
 to express it plunge into that ocean of beauty and 
 perfection, the fulness of wliich dwells in God alone. 
 But what I rejoice in telling you, because I rejoice 
 in feeling it, is this, — that every year confirms my 
 convictions and my hopes, every new thing that 
 I learn strengthens my faith in Christ's Gospel. I 
 have never been ashamed to acknowledge this, and 
 I never shall be. It is inconceivable that we should 
 not dare to own how powerfully our being is pene- 
 trated and influenced by the Divine Image. The 
 strongest proof of the degradation of man is that he 
 has sometimes blushed to acknowledge that the 
 source of all his happiness and his glory ought to 
 be in Jesus Christ' 
 
 Sixty-four years later, in the month of December, 
 1873, M. Guizot began his will by a declaration of 
 his religious belief, and expressed strongly and 
 briefly the results of the experience of his long life, 
 which confirmed the blessed hopes of early youth. 
 
18 MOXSIEUR GUIZOT IX PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 ' I have examined, I have doubted, I have be- 
 lieved that the human mind had power enough to 
 solve the problems presented by man and by the 
 universe, and that the human will had force enough 
 to regulate human life according to the dictates of 
 law and morality. After a long life spent in thought 
 and action I became, and I am still, convinced that 
 neither the universe is competent to regulate its own 
 movements, nor man to govern his own destiny, by 
 means only of the permanent laws by which they 
 are ordered. It is my profound conviction that God, 
 Who created the universe and man, governs, pre- 
 serves, and modifies them either by the action of 
 general laws, which we call natural, or by special 
 acts which we call supernatural, and which, as well 
 as the general laws, are the emanations of His free 
 and perfect wisdom and His infinite power ; we are 
 permitted to discern them in their efiiects, and for- 
 bidden to understand them in their essence and 
 design. I have therefore returned to the faith of 
 my childhood. I am still firmly attached to the use 
 of my reason and to the free will which are my 
 gifts from God, and my birthright and my title of 
 honour upon earth, yet I have learned to feel my- 
 self a child in the hands of God, and sincerely 
 resigned to my large share of ignorance and weak- 
 ness. 
 
 'I believe in God and worship Him without 
 attempting to understand Him. I see His presence 
 and His action not only in the unchangeable law of 
 the universe and in the secret life of the soul, but in 
 
LAW STUDIES AND EELI6I0US OPINIOKS. 19 
 
 the history of human society ; and especially in the 
 Old and New Testament — those records of revela- 
 tion and of the Divine action in the mediation and 
 sacrifice of our Lord Jesus Christ for the salvation 
 of the human race. I bow before the mysteries of 
 the Bible and the Gospel, and I refrain from the 
 discussions and scientific solutions by means of 
 which men have tried to explain them. I have a 
 firm faith that God allows me to call myself a Chris- 
 tian ; and I am convjnced that when I shall, as will 
 soon be my lot, enter into the full light of day, I 
 shall see how purely ihuman is the, origin, and, how; 
 vain are most of the discussions in.ithis world cpa" 
 cerning the things which are divine/ 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 1809-12. 
 
 LITERARY AND SOCIAL OCCUPATIONS. 
 
 When in 1809 M. Guizot professed so openly his 
 belief in Christianity, he had for some time been 
 subject to an influence which was calculated to 
 strengthen and enlighten his religious convictions. 
 M. Stapfer, formerly Swiss Minister in Paris, a man 
 as learned as he was excellent, had made a friend of 
 M. Guizot, attracted to him by his having been 
 brought up at Geneva, aud by his earnest devotion 
 to duty. M. Stapfer pitied also the young man's 
 isolated position in Paris, and the distaste he felt in 
 carrying on his difficult and ill-directed studies. 
 M. Stapfer was not contented with giving the assist- 
 ance of his advice and experience. With a kind- 
 ness that my father never forgot, he took him to his 
 home, introduced him to his family, and admitted 
 him as a guest for several months to his country 
 house, Bel-Air, on the outskirts of Paris. M. Stap- 
 fer's kindness did not stop here. He recognised in 
 M. Guizot those rare mental faculties which it is a 
 vain attempt to repress or turn from their bent; 
 
LITERARY AND SOCIAL OCCUPATIONS. 21 
 
 perhaps the young man had already confided to him 
 the regret which he felt so acutely when he wrote 
 to his mother on the twenty-third of November, 
 1806: — 
 
 ' I do not know how I chanced to open the drawer 
 to which I had banished the first attempts of my 
 pen. I was not able to resist the temptation of read- 
 ing some of them, and it made me sad to do so. I 
 possess talents, but I cannot yield to their impulse, 
 I cannot devote my youth to studying the art of 
 writing, and all that appertains to it, so as to enable 
 me in my riper years to give free expression to my 
 ideas. I shall -never be able to recover the time 
 which I might have spent with so much satisfaction ; 
 it will never come back. Must I then be, in every 
 way, thwarted by circxmistances ? I was intended 
 by nature for a distinguished man of letters ; I am 
 sometimes devoured with the longing to write if it 
 were only for myself; I am oppressed by my 
 thoughts, and I am continually occupied in resisting 
 my inclinations. Now that I have taken my resolu- 
 tion I shall not go back ; but I cannot always stifle 
 my regret. I ought to throw into the fire all those 
 early essays, of which the sight annoys me, but I 
 cannot make up my mind to do so, it irritates me to 
 look at them. I feel drawn towards literature and 
 poetry by a charm which makes me miserable. Do 
 not fear that I shall yield to it. I have said good- 
 bye to them for a long time, perhaps for ever, but 
 do not be angry if I sometimes speak to you of the 
 fire that consumes me. I shall long continue to suf- 
 
22 MONSIEUE GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 fei" from it. I should soon be settled if I might only 
 ichoose my.worli; but all meil cannot follow their 
 wishes ; this hflp^iness is reserved for the select few.' 
 Thanks to M. Stapfer, this envied happiness be- 
 ;came the lot of M. Guizot. His mother at last con- 
 sented to set him free to devote himself to literary 
 .work, and it was , under the direction of this excel- 
 lent friend that he returned to I the studies which he 
 himself felt had been left incomplete. Henceforth 
 he was happy,! and his joy redoubled his diligence. 
 'Since the newiyear began,' h6 wrote to his mother 
 from Bel-Air, I on the twenty -fifth of April, 1808, 'I 
 have ^ only to ; tell you of a happiness as real and 
 delightful as ittis deep and lasting; how eagerly I 
 would close the bargain if God would allow me to 
 continue in the same position all my life long, with- 
 out any change ! If I could only have you with me, 
 all my .desires , would be fulfilled; I enjoy a happi- 
 ness beyond, my expectations- or my hopes; it is 
 without alloyj I without eff"ort;^ everything around 
 me suggests well-being and repose. To-day I am 
 
 here alone with, the children. A is quite well 
 
 now, but how anxious her poor mother was about 
 her while we were in Paris ! However, God had 
 mercy on us. I could not love my own children 
 more than I love these, the bare idea of anything 
 happening to them freezes my blood, and they am- 
 ply retiirn my affection, the dear little ones are quite 
 happy with me, we talk, I make them work a little, 
 I tell them stories. The only- thing wanting to my 
 happiness is to have you with me.' 
 
LITERARY AND SOCIAL OCCUPATIONS. 23 
 
 A few months later M. Gruizot was absorbed by 
 various and important works; he was twenty -two 
 years of age, and he already bore the salutary bur- 
 then of necessary toil, which was to continue to be 
 his portion always. ' I am grieved at not having 
 written to you before,' he says to his mother on the 
 twenty-first of January, 1810. 'I have been, and 
 am still, so overpowered with business that I can 
 scarcely find time for letter-writing. At length I 
 made up my mind to shut myself up for ten days 
 entirely alone in the country. All the family, 
 including the children, are in Paris ; and I came 
 hither last night to spend this week in trying to get 
 on a little with my work. If you could see for 
 yourself all that I have to do, and all that I am 
 doing, you would not scold me for being behind- 
 hand in my correspondence with everyone but you. 
 
 ' I will give you an accurate description of it : I 
 reckoned upon having plenty of time for my Travels 
 in Spain * — not at all — the publishers are anxious 
 to bring it out, because the moment appears to be 
 favourable. I shall hurt their interests if I am in 
 arrear, and I am obliged to deliver the manuscripts 
 to be printed very quickly, to say nothing of cor- 
 recting the proofs, which occasions always a consid- 
 erable loss of time. After this comes Gribbon,t for 
 
 * My father was translating at this time a volume of Travels in 
 Spain by Eehfua. 
 
 f These notes on Gibhon are reproduced in all the recent 
 English editions of the work of the great historian. 
 
24 MONSIEUE GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 which Maradan is on his side very pressing, and 
 wliich ought to be in a more forward state ; I have 
 promised two parts before the fifteenth of April, and 
 I wish to keep my word ; I attach importance to 
 this work; it is already talked of, and asked for in 
 Germany. I am told, both by word and by letter, 
 that I shall render a great service ; it must be well 
 done, and the task is a long one, all the more that 
 the necessary materials are not all to be found in 
 France. At present I am occupied with the history 
 of the different heresies. The Dictionary of Syno- 
 nyms is no less pressing, the first part must be fin- 
 ished by the first of April ; the time is short, I am 
 beginning to work at it. Besides all this, there is 
 the Mercure, which I will not give up. Le Breton, 
 with whom I breakfasted last Thursday, paid me all 
 sorts of compliments, seemed enchanted with my 
 first article, and asked me for three or four more as 
 quickly as possible, that he may be able to give me 
 a fixed position. I shall give him three articles on 
 the Ancient History of Prussia, by Kotzebue, a book 
 which has just appeared, and which is not yet trans- 
 lated ; and then a biography of the historian Miiller, 
 after which I hope that my position will be assured. 
 Add to these my regular work for the newspapers, 
 and lastly, my daily lessons, and you will see that 
 my time is more than filled up, that very little of it 
 remains at my own disposal, and that, in order to 
 fulfil my engagements, it is my duty to curtail, as 
 much as possible, all correspondence that is not 
 absolutely necessary. 
 
LITERARY AND SOCIAL OCCUPATIONS. 25 
 
 ' You know as well as I do that this does not in- 
 clude my correspondence with you, it is necessary 
 to both of us ; I delight in repeating this to you, 
 God grant that your belief in my words may be as 
 deep as their truth ! You are constantly in my 
 thoughts, my dear mother, your grief harrows me 
 more than I can tell ; I would give half my life to 
 restore some of your lost courage and happiness. 
 Poor, dear mother ! there is no one who more fully 
 understands the void that you suffer from, I am 
 aware of the impossibility of ever filling it up, no- 
 thing can repair your loss. Nothing can make up 
 or console you for it. I am perfectly certain that 
 no son ever loved his mother more than I love you, 
 but I have no hope of filling my father's place in 
 your heart ; in that relation there is a charm, a per- 
 fect union which is above every other; its plea- 
 sures and its ties can be compared to nothing else. 
 Those whom Grod has joined are henceforth beyond 
 the reach of their fellow-men ; there can be no com- 
 plete consolation for the sorrow which springs from 
 this source. Nevertheless, dear mother, I am not 
 afraid of hurting you when I tell you that resigna- 
 tion should inspire not only submission but cour- 
 age. Forgive me if I venture to say that one must 
 try to enjoy, even in the midst of this hard life, the 
 good which still remains to us. Continue to speak 
 to me of my father, of your grief, of the things 
 which made his happiness ; but let me have the 
 power of somewhat alleviating your sorrow. If I 
 ever do any real good, the consolation that it may 
 
26 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE, 
 
 afford you will be my sweetest recompense, I ask 
 you this for my own sake, for my own happiness.' 
 
 The sphere of M. Guizot's life and ideas was 
 beginning to widen. He was presented by M. 
 Stapfer to M. Suard, the permanent Secretary of 
 the French Academy, and received with much kind- 
 ness, and was thus introduced into an entirely new 
 world. 
 
 M. Guizot has himself described it in an article 
 in the Revue Frangaise, which was the basis of his 
 notice on Madame de Rumford : — 
 
 'A woman seventy -nine years old; two Acade- 
 micians, one eighty-two, the other seventy-six years 
 of age — these were the only rallying-points left in 
 1809 to the society, which, in 1769, so many distin- 
 guished people tried so anxiously to attract to their 
 houses. The salons of Madame Houdetot, of M. Su- 
 ard, and of the Abbe Morellet, were almost the only 
 retreats in which the conversational talent of the 
 last century could display itself at its ease and 
 without constraint. The memory of that age was, 
 however, still held in great honour, and many were 
 proud of belonging to it ; how, indeed, could the 
 new men — children of the Revolution and the Em- 
 pire — disavow the eighteenth century ? But how 
 far were they from resembling it ! They were ab- 
 sorbed in politics — practical, actual politics — all 
 their thoughts and all their efforts were in constant 
 tension, either for their own or for their master's in- 
 terests — no meditation, no leisure ; action, nothing 
 but labour and action. The eighteenth century, it 
 
LITERAKT AND SOCIAL OCCUPATIONS. 27 
 
 is true, thought mucli about politics, but as a study, 
 not as a business. It was the difference between a 
 pleasant walk in the fields and the labour of driv- 
 ing the plough. Politics held a great place in their 
 imaginations, a small one in their lives; They re- 
 flected, discussed, and planned a great deal, but acted 
 very little. Political as it no doubt wa« in its aspi- 
 rations and in its results, the eighteenth century was 
 a great deal besides ; society took a pleasure in the 
 truth and the expression of its ideas, quite indepen- 
 dently of any use to be made of them by journalists 
 and legislators. 
 
 ' This is the real philosophical temperament, very 
 different from the political spirit which cares for 
 ideas only in their relation to social facts, and to 
 their practical application. Certain classes, certain 
 coteries in the eighteenth century — the economists 
 for instance — occupied themselves especially with 
 politics ; but the century in general, the society in 
 general, cared above all things for intellectual en- 
 joyment, and for discoveries of every kind, in every 
 direction and at any cost. The imaginations of 
 Voltaire, Kousseau, and Diderot, would have felt 
 imprisoned if they had been at liberty to deal only 
 with such questions as concern the form of govern- 
 ment and the fate of nations. 
 
 ' The last contemporaries of these great men, the 
 survivors of this philosophical school — M. Suard 
 and the Abbe Morellet — were undoubtedly not 
 endowed with such insatiable and comprehensive 
 minds. M. Suard had no strong desire to learn or 
 
28 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PKIVATE LIFE, 
 
 to produce, even if literature could have opened the 
 whole universe to him ; he was more a man of the 
 world than a man of letters. Fastidious, indolent, 
 aristocratic in his refinement and his scorn for the 
 things he disapproved, he cared little to develope 
 his faculties, or to acquire fame, if only he might 
 have an honourable life, full of tender interests and 
 agreeable associates. Since work had become no 
 longer a necessity he treated it as a pastime — tak- 
 ing it up and laying it down, reading and writing 
 at leisure — without any object but his own satis- 
 faction, with a sort of intellectual epicureanism, 
 which, however, was neither selfish nor indifferent. 
 
 ' The studies of the Abbe Morellet were more 
 serious, more patient, but very special. He devoted 
 himself almost exclusively to political economy. 
 One would have thought that to both these men 
 the remnant of the old society of the Constituante* 
 which was to be found in the salons of Madame de 
 Tesse and the Princesse de Henin, preserving as it 
 did its ancient traditions, its polished manners, its 
 respect for literature, and its monarchical principles, 
 would have been amply sufficient. And yet this 
 was not at all the case. Following the example of 
 the master-spirits of their time both these men had 
 wider and more various intellectual acquirements. 
 In the development of the thoughts and projects of 
 the human mind, they took a more disinterested in- 
 terest (if I may use the term), more free from any 
 particular direction or immediate application ; the 
 
 * The National Constituent Assembly of 1789. — Ta. 
 
LITERARY AND SOCIAL OCCUPATIONS. 29 
 
 coterie, suited to their wants, must present a more 
 complete and faithful reflection of the age and 
 society in the bosom of which they had been 
 brought up. 
 
 ' Such a circle, in fact, was theirs. Old friends of 
 the same standing and the same tastes ; M. de Bouf- 
 flers, M. Dupont de Nemours, M. Grallois, and a few 
 Academicians whose election M. Suard had sup- 
 ported, and who formed a little party devoted to 
 him in the Academy ; a few young men whose tal- 
 ents he encouraged with a kindness which was per- 
 fectly sincere; some members of the Senate, and 
 other bodies who professed independence; a few 
 foreigners who would never have forgiven them- 
 selves if they had left Paris without knowing the 
 last contemporaries of Voltaire, and of the century 
 whose glory has reached farther than that of any 
 other : these were the materials of which this soci- 
 ety was composed. They met every Thursday in 
 the rooms of the Abb^ Morellet, and on Saturdays 
 and Tuesday's at M. Suard's; sometimes a smaller 
 circle would meet oftener. On Wednesdays Ma- 
 dame d'Houdetot received at dinner a certain num- 
 ber of people who were invited once for all, and 
 who might go there whenever they pleased. There 
 were about eight or ten guests in general, some- 
 times more. There was no display, no luxuries; 
 the dinner was the means, not the end, of the en- 
 tertainment. 
 
 'After the meal was over, Madame d'Hoiidetot, 
 seated herself in the chimney-corner, in her large 
 
30 MONSIEUE GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 arm-chair, with bent back and head inclined almost 
 on her chest, speaking low and little, almost motion- 
 less, assuming the part of a listener rather than that 
 of a leader in the conversation ; suggesting nothing, 
 never interrupting, giving herself no airs as host- 
 ess ; kind, easy, but taking in everything that was 
 said — in literary discussion, in social or theatrical 
 news, in the slightest incident or witty saying — a 
 lively and discriminating interest: she was a piq- 
 uant and original mixture of old age and youth, of 
 quiet and animation. 
 
 ' There was less ease, less absence of form at M. 
 Suard's; ^e^e-d-^c^es between neighbours were seldom 
 allowed, or digressions for the sake of some passing 
 fancy : a general conversation, keeping to the subject 
 under discussion, was the rule. It was the custom 
 of the house, and it was observed ; the consequence 
 was sometimes a little constraint and coldness in 
 the beginning of the evening ; but, on the other 
 hand, much greater real liberty and variety in that 
 house than in any other. M. Suard was not afraid 
 of any subject being ventured upon either by him- 
 self or by his guests. Nowhere was the freedom of 
 thought and speech so great, so openly allowed and 
 encouraged, as by the master of the house. Those 
 who did not see it, cannot imagine, and those who 
 witnessed it have forgotten, the timidity of men's 
 minds at that time, or how constrained were the con- 
 versations ; to what an extent as soon as the small- 
 est approach to politics was suspected, faces gi'ew 
 long, and observations conventional. 
 
LITERARY AKD SOCIAL OCCUPATIONS. 31 
 
 ' A censor of this period showed one of his friends 
 a passage in a play which it was his duty to exam- 
 ine. " You see no allusions in it," he said, " nor 
 would the public see any; well, then, there are 
 allusions, and I shall take good care not to let them 
 pass." 
 
 ' From 1809 to 1814 every one was pretty much 
 like this censor; every one behaved as if there 
 were allusions where none were to be seen ; and 
 every serious conversation on politics, or even on 
 philosophy, was at once paralysed. M. Suard never 
 allowed this paralysis to invade his circle : no man, 
 indeed, ever stood more apart from any political 
 design or intrigue, or could have been more really 
 moderate in his opinions and wishes ; he had no 
 taste or talent for politics or for action. But free- 
 dom of thought and speech was his life ; it was a 
 point of honour with him : he would have felt de- 
 graded in his own eyes if he had given it up, and he 
 maintained it for the benefit of us all. This was 
 sufficient to give interest, animation, and a real 
 moral value to his circle. The conversation was not 
 wanting in width of range and variety in other 
 respects; no tradition, no prejudice naiTOwed the 
 field; every subject — philosophy, literature, history, 
 art, times ancient and modern, foreign countries — 
 each and all were received with favour. Even new 
 and crude ideas, however little in harmony with the 
 traditions of the eighteenth century, did not meet 
 with hostile rejection ; their repulsiveness was for- 
 given on account of the animation excited by their 
 
32 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 novelty. For animation was the great want ; soci- 
 ety was living on ideas and discoveries which had 
 long' ago been sifted to the bottom ; the same people, 
 the same reflections, the same anecdotes, were per- 
 petually recurring ; and although there was real 
 activity of thought, it was neither fertile nor pro- 
 gressive. But we always felt the sincerity and the 
 single-mindedness which, perhaps, constitute the 
 greatest charm in the interchange of thought. We 
 met, we conversed without any obligation or object, 
 animated only by the attraction of intellectual inter- 
 course. It was not, indeed, the serious discussion of 
 a circle of friends passionately devoted to truth and 
 science, but it was still less the narrow selfishness 
 and petty aims of a society caring only for the prac- 
 tical, and acting and speaking only with a view to 
 some special design or definite result. It was not 
 indeed entirely for their own sake that opinions and 
 ideas were sought or expressed ; something more 
 was demanded from them — social enjoyment — but 
 nothing beyond.' 
 
 Young as he then was, M. Guizot, himself, sought 
 for more than social pleasure in conversation ; he 
 already foresaw that his ideas must one day obtain 
 the triumphs which belong to truth, and which she 
 never fails sooner or later to attain. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 1807-12. 
 
 COURTSHIP AND MAEEIAGE. 
 
 Theee was one pleasure which M. Gruizot found in 
 M. Suard's house of a kind that he valued above all 
 others. This feeling finds expression in a letter to 
 his second daughter, Madame Cornelis de Witt, dated 
 the twentj-sixth of December, 1867 : 
 
 ' I know not how many years ago, but it is very 
 long ago, I was at M. de Talleyrand's one morning, 
 with a very small circle of friends ; there was the 
 Duchess de Dino, M. Piscatory, and I forget who 
 else, all full of talk. I happened to say, " Conver- 
 sation is a great pleasure." " There is one still 
 greater," said M. de Talleyrand, with a somewhat 
 scornful smile — " action ! " Whereupon I retorted, 
 " Yes, Prince, but there is another which is greater 
 far than the other two — affection ! " He looked at me 
 with some surprise, but without smiling. I think 
 that this dry, corrupt, old diplomatist had wit enough 
 to see that I was right. I have said good-bye to 
 action, but affection above all things, and in a lesser 
 degree, conversation, still occupy a large space in my 
 
34 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 life. My thoughts continually overflow, and want 
 to pour themselves into another soul.' 
 
 M. Guizot had met with a soul to whom he was 
 able to confide the incessant activity of his thoughts, 
 one who was worthy of understanding him, and who 
 offered to him in return treasures of inestimable value. 
 The story of the sudden, sympathetic impulse which 
 drove him, when only twenty years old, to offer the 
 assistance of his pen to Mademoiselle de Meulan, at a 
 moment when she was overpowered with cares and 
 sorrows, wliich, for the time, shook even her firm- 
 ness and courage, has been often repeated. 
 
 M. Gruizot has himself related the circumstance 
 in the notes that he left on his wife. I will give 
 here a few extracts : * 
 
 ' Throughout her childhood she was languid and 
 delicate. From a very early age, her lively sensi- 
 bility, perfect uprightness, and extreme quickness, 
 attracted notice ; but she appeared to have no taste 
 for any intellectual labour. She did not dislike her 
 lessons, but she took no pleasure in them. She did 
 them because it was more easy to do as she was told 
 than to resist, and from a sense of duty, but without 
 any feeling of interest in her work. She always 
 spoke of her childhood as of a period of cold vacuity. 
 She was, however, passionately attached to her sister, 
 who was about eighteen months her junior ; and she 
 also conceived an intense affection for a little brother, 
 
 * M. de Edmusat was the only person who ever saw these 
 notes, which guided him in his beautiful notice of Madame Guizot, 
 published at the beginning of his Gonseils de Morale. 
 
COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE. 35 
 
 named Basile, who died, and of wliom she made a 
 kind of idol, that for a long while visited her in her 
 dreams. Between the ages of ten and fourteen her 
 intelligence developed in such an extraordinary 
 manner that her family regarded her as a prodigy, 
 and yet she never lost her languor and her distaste 
 for every kind of study. She wrote plays and fables 
 in a style both lively and correct, but with no origi- 
 nality or power of invention. Only on rare occasions 
 did the keen sensibility of her nature exhibit itself: 
 her ordinary mood was silent and dreamy. The 
 family physician, Vicq d'Azyr, attended her with 
 intense and affectionate interest. 
 
 ' Her father, Charles-Jacques-Louis de Meulan, 
 head of the fiscal department of the city of Paris, was 
 a good and upright man of lively manners, whose sole 
 occupation was to enjoy his fortune, and to make other 
 people participate in his enjoyment. He was fond of 
 plays, songs, and light literature in general, and took 
 C0II6 into his house in the capacity of private secre- 
 tary. He considered philosophers pedantic and pre- 
 sumptuous, and detested them accordingly. Her 
 mother, Marguerite-Jeanne de Saint-Chamans, was a 
 woman of exalted feeling and refined mind. She en- 
 joyed the society of the clever men who professed all 
 the new opinions more in consequence of her generous 
 spirit and refined taste than because she shared their 
 convictions, or was animated by any party spirit. She 
 was connected with all the men of the eighteenth 
 century who professed serious and moral principles : 
 M. Necker and his followers, the economists : M. de 
 
COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE. 37 
 
 and self-devotion : and she soon had an opportunity 
 for its exercise. Her father died in 1790, and the 
 remains of his large fortune produced nothing but 
 lawsuits for his widow and children. Mademoiselle 
 de Meulan was miserable because she could not 
 persuade her family to make a grand resolution — to 
 give up everything, and reduce themselves to what 
 was strictly necessary. Her mother's incapacity for 
 business was absolute. Mademoiselle de Meulan 
 was the only one who was able, later on, to disen- 
 tangle their sadly complicated affairs. She pre- 
 served a bitter recollection of the cruel deceptions 
 of that time. "To count many friends without being 
 able to count upon any of them," she says, in an 
 essay called Friends in Misfortune, "plenty of money 
 passing through your fingers, without being able to 
 keep any of it ; many debts to pay, and none to 
 receive, many investments which bring you in 
 nothing ! " 
 
 'In 1794, all the nobles were exiled from Paris, 
 and Mademoiselle de Meulan established herself at 
 Passy. The two sisters had scarcely any other 
 amusement than to go daily and sign their names on 
 the municipal register, and to hear the mayor (an 
 honest man enough) say, " Citoj^ennes, how is your 
 mother ! " In this uneventful home life, the advent 
 of the Reign of Terror gave a violent shock to the 
 mind of Mademoiselle de Meulan. Her character 
 henceforth became strongly emotional, and she ac- 
 quired the habit of solitary meditation. It was at 
 this time, that, as she sat one day drawing, she 
 
38 MOXSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 suddenly discovered that she was clever, and very 
 clever. She was as much pleased as if she had found 
 a companion or a friend. 
 
 ' On her return to Paris, after the ninth Thermidor, 
 she soon found her intellect develope as quickly as 
 her character. She took an ardent interest in the 
 politics of the time, in the determined resistance 
 offered by liberty to Revolutionary principles ; but 
 she had no general theories, no precise object, her 
 point of view was entirely moral and practical. Her 
 confidence in the strength of her youthful powers 
 continued to increase ; her natural bent was to strong 
 opinions and energetic resolutions. In her were 
 combined all the exquisite delicacy, all the refine- 
 ments of mind, of feeling, and of manners, which 
 distinguished the Ancien Regime, with the frank, 
 open, and somewhat unconventional habits of the 
 Revolution. 
 
 ' In the midst of all this political excitement, she 
 read and thought much, especially on metaphysics. 
 She began the works of Locke, Helvetius, Condillac, 
 and many other authors, but without finishing any. 
 She stopped every minute to reflect, and to write. 
 Ideas crowded and jostled each other in her head, 
 and no one was near to help her to disentangle the 
 confusion. 
 
 ' In 1798 she saved the life of M. de Lamilli^re, 
 who was stimmoned before a military commission for 
 being an emigrant. Treilhard, who was Director at 
 that time, was much struck by her. No one else was 
 interested on behalf of the accused; and yet, in spite 
 
COURTSHIP AND MAKRIAGE. 39 
 
 of the difficulty of the case, M. Treilhard succeeded 
 in arranging- that he should not be brought before 
 the commission. She always remembered with 
 pleasure this, her first personal success, and the ob- 
 stinacy with which she had conquered her aversion 
 to Treilhard in her frequent visits to discuss the 
 affair at his house. When it was over she again 
 went to see him two or three times as a proof of 
 gratitude, but her timidity and dislike of the man 
 were so great that one evening she was on the point 
 of bursting into tears in his reception-room. 
 
 ' It was about this time that she began to work 
 for her family. She knew that she had ability, and 
 M. de Vaines and M. Suard suggested that she might 
 turn it to account ; until that moment the idea had 
 never entered her head. 
 
 ' In 1800 she published the Contradictions, and La 
 ChapeUe d'Ayton ; in 1801 she began writing in the 
 Publiciste, a paper that M. Suard had just set up. 
 Her articles had from the first great success in social 
 circles. She had taken to going out in the evening 
 whenever she had time ; she found amusement, but 
 no satisfaction in society, feeling no real sympathy 
 with anyone ; always independent, she' seemed a 
 stranger wherever she went; she was untamed, if 
 one may say so ; she was even inclined to despise 
 any pleasure that she felt in society, for she knew 
 that she possessed a force of intelligence and will far 
 superior to any that she saw around her, and to all 
 that she had hitherto herself put in action, but she 
 was not capable of turning it to account, or of 
 
40 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 developing it properly. Her criticisms were affected 
 by the bent of her mind ; they were not entirely 
 literary, philosophy was always creeping in to con- 
 nect her literary judgments with descriptions of hu- 
 man nature, of social habits, and of different periods. 
 
 'In 1803, her sister married M. Jacques Dillon, a 
 distinguished engineer, who belonged to the branch 
 of the Dillon family established in Naples. M. de 
 Barnet, one of Mademoiselle de Meulan's relations, 
 left 20,000 frs. to each sister. She added her own 
 legacy to her sister's ; for she was convinced that she 
 never would marry. Her inclination to sacrifice her 
 own personal happiness did not destroy her capacity 
 for passionately enjoying happiness. Never, per- 
 haps was seen a combination of such entire disinter- 
 estedness with such intense individuality. Her sister 
 adored her. 
 
 ' M. Dillon died towards the end of March, 1807. 
 M. Suard, in whose company I was dining at M. 
 Stapfer's table, told us the story of his death two 
 days after it occurred, and described the poverty in 
 which he had left his family, and the anxiety of 
 Mademoiselle de Meulan, herself ill from sorrow 
 and fatigue. 
 
 ' I wrote to him that very day ; by the following 
 morning I had finished an article for her. It was 
 inserted in the Publiciste of the thirty-first of March. 
 
 * I spent a fortnight in writing for her without 
 making myself known. In the beginning, I had not 
 at all decided on letting her ever know my name, or 
 ever seeing her. Nevertheless, I am sure that when 
 
COUKTSHIP AND MAERIAGE. 41 
 
 I went to her for the first time, I felt a presentiment 
 that I was doing something which would, perhaps, 
 influence my whole life. 
 
 'I saw her for the first time on the thirteenth of 
 April. In the month of June I settled myself in the 
 country near Montfort I'Amaury in the house of 
 M. Stapfer, with whom I was very intimate. I was 
 in bad health. She took charge of all my literary 
 affairs and relations in Pa,ris. I went thither about 
 once in six weeks for tlu-ee or four days. At that 
 time I had just made my appearance in the society 
 formed out of the relics of the eighteenth century. 
 These relics were of two kinds : the one consisted of 
 the philosophers, and the other of tliat portion of the 
 aristocratic society which, without caring for the 
 philosophers, had had no violent quarrel with them. 
 This was the society which I saw whenever I went 
 to Paris — she had lived in it always. The differ- 
 ences of birth and of habits for a long time interfered 
 with our perfectly understanding each other. Perfect 
 harmony was attained only after long and reciprocal 
 influence. I raised and widened the sphere of her 
 life ; she greatly contributed to the truth of mine. 
 It was between 1810 and 1812, after I had definitely 
 returned to Paris, that our intimacy became perfect, 
 and our ideas and opinions completely fused. In 
 July, 1811, I made a tour in Languedoc. It was 
 thence that I wrote to tell her all that she had 
 become to me. On my return, in September, our 
 marriage was arranged, but it could not take place 
 until the seventh of April, 1812.' 
 
42 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IX PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 M. Guizot's correspondence witli Mademoiselle de 
 Meulan during this period bears witness to the con- 
 stant progress of their intellectual intimacy and of 
 their mutual affection. The differences of birth and 
 education, far more than that of age, often caused a 
 diversity of opinion which astonished and annoyed 
 them. 'You thank me for my advice on foreign 
 literature,' Mademoiselle de Meulan writes on the 
 twenty-fourth of February, 1809 : 
 
 ' Mon frere, vos conseils sont les meilleurs du monde 
 lis sont bien raisonn^s et j'en fais un grand cas, 
 Mais vous trouverez bon que je n'en use pas.' * 
 
 ' Very well, M. Orgon, all you want is a great 
 beard on your face.' But as you are so fond of 
 advice (which you do not follow), I will add that 
 our Editor came this morning to complain to me that 
 you had sent him five articles on Walstein, and I saw 
 that he was so embarrassed with the two last that I 
 advised him to put them in the body of the paper to 
 make a little variety, and for the sake of those who 
 complain of having had already three in the outside 
 sheet (feuilleton). You must know that M. de Saint 
 Legier did not come to tell me this of his own accord. 
 The same thing was told to Lacretelle. M. Suard 
 insinuated to me something like it, as well as M. 
 Marignie. What do you say, my lord, to my advice f 
 
 * ' My brother, your counsels are the best in the world ; they 
 are well argued, and I value them highly, but you must not be 
 offended if I do not follow them.' (From Moliere's Tartuffe, 
 Act iv., Scene 3.) — Tr. 
 
COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE. 43 
 
 And what did I really advise, " to repeat things which 
 have heen said over and over again hy French critics V 
 Oh yes, I am so fond of repetitions ! Here is this 
 rigid author determined to express his opinion, what- 
 ever it may be, and who, in order to reject my advice, 
 attributes to me an opinion which he well knows is 
 not mine. Seriously, my dear friend, did I ever tell 
 you that you were not to follow your own method % 
 I am so far from wishing this that if I feared that my 
 counsels had any influence over you (which, how- 
 ever, thank Heaven, I have no cause to fear), I 
 should abstain from bestowing them on you, lest 
 you should change, or be constrained, or cease to be 
 yourself; you can be nothing better than that, in 
 the first place because your ideas and your method 
 are excellent, and in the second because they are 
 your own ; and everything in you is so consistent, 
 forms such a perfect whole, that you ought to alter 
 nothing. 
 
 ' But you have certain other peculiarities which 
 are inconsistent with this whole, which are not 
 natural to you. You have some prejudices, my 
 dear friend, because you have thought a great deal 
 and acted little ; some expressions, the effect of 
 which you cannot appreciate because you gave 
 up mixing with the public you are writing for just 
 at the moment when you began to write for it, just 
 when your observation of society might have in- 
 structed and warned you. You are not writing for 
 me, dear friend, nor for yourself, nor for your cul- 
 tivated and reasonable friends. You do not know 
 
44 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PKIVATE LIFE. 
 
 the people for whom you write, you cannot follow 
 their passing prejudices, nor tell what it would be 
 advisable — not to feign — but to avoid stating too 
 crudely. And after all, can we be certain, even after 
 long meditation, that the knowledge of ideas differ- 
 ing from oxir own, even if they were false, would not 
 change our own in any respect, if it were only by 
 suggesting new ones ? You will tell me that you 
 expect nothing from your public. Ah, indeed, I 
 thought that you expected for it the price of our 
 work undertaken to procure the means of living, and 
 that this price was to be proportioned to your suc- 
 cess. You care only for a moderate competency ; 
 but, my friend, the greater your success and your 
 reputation, the sooner and more easily will you ac- 
 complish your modest desire. Are not these con- 
 siderations worth thinking of, lazy one f You have 
 often told me that you wished to be useful ; when 
 one wants to be useful to mankind, and has no whip 
 with which to threaten them, one must begin by 
 pleasing them in order to make them obey in the 
 end. Listen to me — there is another reason why 
 you should try to please the public ; it is that I, your 
 man of business, ought to be paid for my trouble, 
 and I like to hear you praised. For this reason, dear 
 friend, take care not to change, be and remain your- 
 self; only (to gratify their tastes) give the public 
 fewer articles on the same subject. This done, all 
 that you will say will be right. Even if the form 
 should be a little peculiar they will become accus- 
 tomed to it ; variety is the one thing needful. 
 
COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE. 45 
 
 'Here is the end of my sermon. I wanted to 
 prove, not that you were in the wrong, but that I 
 was in the right ; and that you ought to set more 
 value on my advice. I also recommend you not to 
 thwart me ; when I am vexed I write long letters, I 
 tire myself, I do nothing else, and I waste all my 
 time with you ! What a delightful waste of time ! ' 
 
 In the following year the fusion of the two souls 
 had become more nearly complete. Mademoiselle 
 de Meulan writes from Marly, where she was spend- 
 ing a few days with Madame de Vaines : — 
 
 ' As I have often told you, you have killed all my 
 faculties ; but there is no harm done since you have 
 put yourself in the place of myselV 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 1812-20. 
 
 ENTRANCE INTO PUBLIC LIFE. 
 
 A FEW days after his marriage M. Guizot was nomi- 
 nated Professor of Literature. At first he was only 
 the substitute for M. de Lacretelle, with a special dis- 
 pensation on account of his youth. He soon attained 
 a definite position by his appointment to the chair of 
 Modern History, created especially for him iDy M. de 
 Fontanes. When the president of the University an- 
 nounced the appointment to M. Guizot, he intimated 
 that the Emperor read all the opening speeches, and 
 was accustomed to find his own name loudly extolled 
 in them. M. Guizot did not approve of despotism, 
 and although he cared little about politics, and did 
 not take any active part in the opposition, he refused 
 to comply. The scene took place at Courbevoie, in 
 a pretty villa where M. de Fontanes often spent some 
 time in the summer. M. Guizot was dining with him. 
 The President gently insisted. On M. Guizot's reit- 
 erated refusal he exclaimed, smiling: 'How obstinate 
 these Protestants are ! I must get out of the scrape 
 as well as I can.' 
 
EOYEE COLLARD. 
 
ENTRANCE INTO PUBLIC LIFE. 47 
 
 For the first time in his life M. Guizot enjoyed the 
 pleasure of working with complete freedom, and 
 towards a definite end. Mademoiselle de Meulan 
 had formerly written to him, with the candour which 
 characterised her : ' You write always better about 
 things than about books, because you see in a book 
 not the author's conceptions but your own, which are 
 by far the better of the two. You imagine that the 
 author has treated his subject in the same lofty or 
 reasonable manner in which you would have treated 
 it. My dear friend, you make a much better author 
 than critic. I do not think that this need humiliate 
 you. To be able to carry imagination into your 
 criticisms is an excellent gift.' 
 
 The original turn of M. Gruizot's mind was in 
 future to display itself in the vast field of historical 
 studies. 
 
 It was at this time that M. Gruizot became con- 
 nected with M. Royer-Collard, Professor of Philos- 
 ophy in the Faculty of Literature. The Professor 
 soon treated his young colleague with a sympathy 
 and friendliness by which M. Gruizot was deeply 
 touched. Thirty-two years later, in the month of 
 September, 1845, just after the death of M. Royer- 
 Collard, M. Gruizot wrote : ' I wish for some details of 
 M. Royer-Collard's last moments. I have asked 
 his nephew for them. I shall always preserve an 
 afi"ectionate and grateful remembrance of him. I 
 did so even when he was not kind to me. He did 
 a great deal more than help me on in my career : he 
 contributed substantially to my mental and personal 
 
48 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 development. He opened to me views, and taught 
 me truths which without him I should probably have 
 never heard of. Such a service is far superior to 
 any other, and far more rare.' 
 
 M. Guizot also attributed to his wife an influential 
 share in his moral and intellectual development. 
 
 In 1814 M. and Madame Guizot went to Nimes. 
 He introduced her for the first time into a little 
 world, to which she was as strange as it was new for 
 her. He was called back to fill the place of Secre- 
 tary to the Abbe de Montesquiou at the Home Office 
 (Minisiere de VInterieur). M. Guizot was a Liberal 
 and a Protestant. His appointment was the first act 
 of the new Minister to whom he was recommended 
 by M. Royer-CoUard. It was not without an effort 
 that M. Guizot gave up his studies and his teaching. 
 The effort was still greater for those who loved him, 
 and who did not relish his entering public life. His 
 mother, especially, dreaded for him the influence and 
 the pitfalls of politics. 
 
 'In 1814, his wife cared little for politics; she 
 disliked their platitude and monotony, she had hoped 
 for better things, and she regretted the home life of 
 work and conversation.' * 
 
 Regrets were vain, for, in spite of M. Guizot's 
 frequent return to the purely literary employments 
 which were still to fill so large a space in his long 
 life, he had taken his place once for all in politics, 
 
 * This passage is from M. Guizot's notes. 
 
ENTRANCE INTO PUBLIC LIFE. 49 
 
 and politics had for ever taken theirs in his life. 
 The free and independent exercise of his mind was 
 no longer enough to absorb it. 
 
 It was, nevertheless, without regret that he pre- 
 pared to return to his lectures when the Hundred 
 Days once more interrupted the quiet of France and 
 of Europe. But the Professor was not so soon to 
 re-occupy his chair. The unhappy state of his 
 country, anxieties for its future, affected him too 
 deeply for him to think himself justified in refusing 
 the mission with which the friends of Constitutional 
 Monarchy entrusted him to the exiled Louis XVIII. 
 He left his wife in Paris ; she was expecting the 
 birth of her second child, after having had the grief 
 of losing her first. He knew not when he should be 
 able to go back to her, or if the situation of France 
 would allow him to live there in peace. His letters 
 from Ghent bear the stamp of his sorrow and his 
 cares. 
 
 ' June Uh. — I had a cruel moment, yesterday, 
 my Pauline ; on a sudden the news was spread that 
 there was fighting going on in Paris, and that the gar- 
 rison of Lille had received orders to march as quickly 
 as possible against the rebels. What anguish ! There 
 was fighting in Paris, and you were there alone ! 
 I ran in every direction to ascertain the truth. The 
 news was entirely false ; we are assured that only 
 two regiments got into a quarrel at Meaux, and that 
 a few of the wounded were taken back to Paris. A 
 man who left Paris on the thirtieth of May, says that 
 all at that time was tranquil. May God be praised ! 
 
50 MOJfSIEUR GUIZOT IX PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 But how shall I endure the idea that every day, 
 every instant, there may be skirmishes, revolts in 
 Paris, and I shall not be there to shield you, to 
 watch over you ? Heavens, what torture ! How 
 can I make up my mind to it ? Ought I to have 
 had any other thought but you ? 
 
 ' Do you know what decided me, dearest I The 
 wish to become all that I may become, so that 
 nothing may be wanting to your happiness ; to fulfil 
 every duty that your opinion of me lays on me. My 
 activity and my ambition are all for you ; it is for 
 your sake that I will not neglect any opportunity for 
 distinguishing myself. If we had not been tmited I 
 should have gone on living in my natural idleness ; 
 I might have felt by fits and starts the wish to make 
 use of my faculties, and to show myself as I am ; but 
 the feeling would have had no root, my indolence and 
 my contempt for the things of this world would have 
 almost always carried the day. Dearest, it is you 
 who give me strength, vigour, and perseverance. 
 You are sufficient for my happiness, when I am with 
 you I want nothing, for I regret nothing; but all that 
 is in me belongs to you, and I dare not let anything 
 run to waste. It is your property that I make the 
 most of, and it is to you that I wish to offer the 
 fruits. 
 
 ' Unfortunately, since the day when I had an 
 audience of the King I have had nothing to do here. 
 I do not know if there will be any change in this 
 respect. We make excursions, we pay visits, we are 
 bored, and this is all ; a council is held scarcely once 
 
ENTRANCE INTO PUBLIC LIFE. 51 
 
 a fortnight; we do not meet, as we ought, in order 
 to discuss matters, to prepare for future events, or to 
 understand each other's views. It seems as if having: 
 met once, all has been said ; we comfort ourselves 
 by repeating that there is nothing to be done ; and 
 yet the members of different parties observe and 
 attack each other covertly while waiting to do so 
 openly ; wise men have no hope but in M. de 
 Talleyrand, and he is not yet come. At last we 
 are assured that he will arrive this week. God 
 grant that he may have a sufficiently eager desire tq 
 save France, and the courage necessary to say all 
 that his position allows him to say and to ask for — 
 all that he alone is able to obtain ! If he brings 
 with him his usual carelessness and indolence, we 
 are lost. Bonaparte will gain nothing; but the 
 Monarchy will never be firmly established in France 
 — perhaps it will never be re-established at all — 
 and then I do not know what we shall have. 
 
 ' One must have seen what I see to believe in it. 
 No, I should never have thought it possible to be so 
 blind! "Bonaparte has dethroned us; after the fall 
 of Bonaparte the throne will be ours again : we will 
 see nothing beyond ! " It is perhaps acknowledged 
 that the Ministry was incapable : but why or how 1 
 What was the hidden evil 1 to what ignorance may 
 the faults in the past be attributed ? what new direc- 
 tion shall be taken ? what obstacles turned aside in 
 tlie future ? All tliese are things about which a cer- 
 tain person knows and cares nothing. And even if 
 he did know what ought to be done, he would prob- 
 
52 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 ably not have the courage to attempt it ; "it would 
 give too much trouble ; one would have to remove 
 so many objections, to get rid of so many preten- 
 sions, to alter so many habits of life, to bear so 
 much ill-humour : it is better to sleep in peace ; at 
 any rate, when one is asleep one does not see the 
 precipice, and one falls into it without having had 
 the miseries of anticipation." 
 
 ' This inconceivable apathy is surrounded by a 
 thousand petty ambitions, as watchful and as eager 
 as if we were living in perfect security. Every one 
 talks, and every one expects to be believed. I have 
 not yet been able to discover, in spite of all that has 
 passed, a single instance of humbled vanity, or of 
 baffled pretensions. I meet everywhere the same 
 assurance, the same language ; there is a little more 
 animation than there would have been if Bonaparte 
 had not turned us out of Paris, because each party 
 hopes to obtain by this crisis a triumph over its 
 adversaries. All this is most distressing to me, and 
 I escape from the misery which the sight occasions 
 only by the delightful frivolity which distinguishes 
 human nature — by means of a pleasant walk or an 
 idle conversation — from agitating thoughts and 
 ominous apprehensions. 
 
 ' I have seen Pozzo di Borgo ; he came here two 
 days ago, and we spent an hour together. He is a 
 really superior man, full of energy and intelligence. 
 " I hope," he said to me, " that France will one day 
 know the services I have rendered her." I know no 
 one who is a better judge of the past and the pres- 
 
ENTRANCE INTO PUBLIC LIFE. 53 
 
 ent, or whom it is better to consult as to the future. 
 Very fortunately he is much esteemed here, at 
 Vienna and at Brussels, and by those who hold our 
 fate in their power. Bonaparte has in him a terrible 
 enemy. We talked a great deal about the state of 
 France. The Kings know nothing at all about it. 
 It would be most valuable if they could form a cor- 
 rect idea of it; they believe all sorts of absurd 
 stories ; they are as bad judges of men as of things ; 
 and Pozzo is of the greatest use to us by opening 
 their eyes, by enlightening them, and by checkmat- 
 ing the intrigues which are being constantly plotted 
 and unplotted around them.' 
 
 In spite of all this, good sense and wise policy 
 gained the day, and King Louis XVIII. returned to 
 France without M. de Blacas, who was in reality 
 less dangerous than personally offensive to the 
 public, who considered his presence as a symptom 
 of the King's intentions. M. Guizot's friends seemed 
 likely to exercise a salutary influence. M. de Barb^- 
 Marbois was Minister of Justice, and M. Guizot occu- 
 pied under him the post of Secretaire General — a 
 position similar to that which he had formerly held 
 at the Home Office, under the Abb^ de Montesquiou. 
 He did not stay there long. Political excitement, 
 the fear of another revolution, had sent to the Cham- 
 ber of Deputies some Royalist members, who were 
 so ardent and intolerant, that they could not endure 
 even the men of the ancien regime if they had served 
 the Emperor, or preserved any of the traditions of 
 1789. M. de Barb^-Marbois was odious to the 
 
54 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PEITATE LIFE. 
 
 Chambre introuvahle* He was forced to retire, and 
 his secretary went out with him. 
 
 M. Guizot's position was now only that of Maitre 
 des Requetes (legal adviser) to the Conseil di'Etat. 
 He resumed his course of lectures, and continued to 
 take a lively interest in the struggle which M. de 
 Richelieu and M. Decazes were still maintaining 
 against the violence of the Ultras. 
 
 In 1816 he wrote, in answer to a paper by M. de 
 Vitrolles, his pamphlet, On Representative Govern- 
 ment and the Present State of France. In the same 
 year he published An Essay on the History and Pres- 
 ent Condition of Public Education in France ; and 
 lastly, he contributed, by means of a memorial, for 
 which M. Decazes asked him, to the resolution taken 
 by Louis XVIII., to dissolve the Chamber on the 
 fifth of September, 1816. 
 
 Appointed Conseiller d'Etat in 1818, M. Guizot 
 helped to prepare those great laws, which were to 
 lay the foundation of a well-regulated liberty in 
 France. At times suggesting to M. Laine the argu- 
 ments which had to be matured in the minister's 
 mind before he could use them for defending the 
 electoral law in the Chamber, at others, preparing 
 the speeches of Marshal Gouvion Saint Cyr in 
 favour of his military laws, M. Guizot became one 
 of the most active supporters of the Government, 
 preserving, meanwhile, an independence of thovight 
 
 * Louis XVIII. himself gave this name to the new Assembly, 
 which he was astonished to find contained some members who 
 were even more royalist than their king. 
 
EKTEANCE INTO PUBLIC LIFE. 55 
 
 and of conduct whicli sometimes annoyed his friends 
 in office, while it was of use to them. Such was 
 frequently the fate of the Doctrinaires* 
 
 Their influence preponderated when M. Decazes 
 held the reins of government in July, 1819. The 
 new minister created for M. Guizot' the post of 
 Director of Commercial and Departmental affairs 
 under the Home Secretary, which put him in prac- 
 tical relations with the whole of the Grovernment. 
 He, as well as Madame Guizot, took a growing- in- 
 terest in his duties. Every one nnist remember how 
 the assassination of the Ducde Berry, on the thirteenth 
 of February, 1820, by giving rise to absurd fears 
 and odious intrigues, occasioned the fall of the 
 Decazes Ministry. M. de Serre separated from his 
 old friends, and became Garde des Sceaux (Keeper of 
 the Privy Seal) ; he struck out of the Conseil d'Etat 
 MM. Royer-Collard, de Barante, Camille Jordan, 
 and Guizot. 
 
 M. Guizot quitted Paris for a few months, and 
 established himself in the country, near Meulan, in 
 the Maisonnette, a house which was lent to him by 
 Madame de Condorcet. He was writing at that time 
 an essay On the Government of France since the 
 Eestoration, and on the Present Ministry, and he re- 
 turned alone to Paris to superintend its publication. 
 
 * This was the name given to the little group of distinguished 
 men who acknowledged M. Eoyer-CoUard as their chief; in his 
 yonth he had been educated in a College of Pretres Doctrinaires 
 (the members of a secular congregation called the Doctrine 
 Chretienne). — Tk. 
 
56 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 Madame Guizot and her son remained in the country. 
 Separation was more unbearable than ever to both 
 of them, for they had resumed their tete-a-tete life in 
 common. 
 
 ' I had a violent headache on my arrival ' (M. 
 Guizot writes on the thirteenth of September, 1820) ; 
 ' it was not the shaking of the carriage, but sorrow 
 for having left you that gave it to me. Throughout 
 the journey I had an intolerable heartache. I do 
 not complain ; I think that, to tell the truth, I liked 
 my headache, because it was for your sake, and be- 
 cause I love you. Nevertheless, you must not enjoy 
 this luxuiy on your side ; sleep well and take care 
 of yourself. My headache is gone this morning ; it 
 would come back if I were uneasy about you. I 
 cannot tell you how happy I was during the six 
 weeks which are just ended ; I knew and enjoyed 
 my happiness at the time, I feel it deeply now that 
 it is over, and I shall enjoy it just as much when I 
 return to you. 
 
 ' I caiTy you with me, you are present with me 
 everywhere ; you and the happiness I owe to you ; 
 when I am away from you everything reminds me of 
 you ; when near you I forget everything else — my 
 very soul is yours. And yet I feel that this life, so 
 exclusively devoted to you, is free, active, and full of 
 wide interests. I lavish it upon you every instant, 
 and you give it back to me, stronger and more beau- 
 tiful than ever. No, my Pauline, we shall never 
 know all that we are to each other; eternity will 
 not be too long for our happiness. 
 
ENTRANCE INTO PUBLIC LIFE. 57 
 
 'While waiting for eternity, this is how I have 
 employed my time since yesterday. I arrived at 
 six, and in spite of my headache I wrote at once six 
 notes. We call this, in ministerial slang, tying our 
 strings. After writing my notes I dined ; at eight 
 o'clock I went to see Royer. I found that three days 
 ago he underwent an operation. An abscess had 
 formed behind his ear, so serious as to render Du- 
 bois' knife necessary. Most likely he will be well 
 in a fortnight. Dubois has treated him like the 
 apple of his eye. Royer, therefore, is in excellent 
 spirits, charmed to have got rid of his torment, and 
 not at all dismayed as to the future. I never knew 
 him look his coming position so boldly in the face. 
 On the whole, I think I see clearly, from what he 
 said, that the gloom is beginning to disappear, and 
 that every day the question becomes more and more 
 exclusively limited to the composition of the Min- 
 istry. Every day, too, the solution of this question 
 becomes plainer. It is said that the Ministers every 
 week strike out two or three departments from the 
 list of those in which they can count upon favourable 
 elections. As the electoral committees cannot meet 
 before the fifth or sixth of November, there are still 
 fifteen or sixteen to be struck out. This is promis- 
 ing. People seem to think, however, that de Serre 
 is the only minister who is prepared for acts of arbi- 
 trary power {cowps d 'etat) if the elections prove un- 
 favourable. Should this occur the others talk only 
 of retiring. Do you remember that old humbug. 
 Senator Cornet, who used to say, "I have always 
 
58 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 observed that the generous are those that fall ! " In 
 spite of all that he has done de Serre is generous, 
 and he will fall.' 
 
 On the sixteenth Madame Gruizot wrote : ' I am 
 well, only rather sleepy, in consequence of a detes- 
 table night. If there were no writing to be done I 
 should have nothing to complain of, but it is a great 
 misfortune for me that I cannot make literary work 
 agree with the rest of my life. If it were possible 
 for me to give myself entirely up to it by devoting 
 all my time and thoughts to it as you do when you 
 want to write well, I should write well too. I still 
 have the power of so doing, but I have not that of 
 passing continually from one life to another ; from 
 the multitude of feelings, cares, and thoughts con- 
 nected with other lives, to those conceptions which I 
 alone can originate. When I am not writing I am 
 you, or I belong to my child, I think of what you 
 are doing, of what I have to do for my boy. In 
 order to write I must be myself only, and I have 
 no time for such transitions. I exhaust myself, and 
 I have no power left for anything. 
 
 ' My dearest love, I tell you this, not that you or 
 I or anybody can help me, but in order that yon 
 may be aware of it, and that I may not add to the 
 idea which pursues me of not being all that I ought 
 to be, the notion that you think I am not all that I 
 ought to be. I am dissatisfied with myself, but I 
 do not want you to be so, and yet I do not wish to 
 deceive you; it is nevertheless true that when I 
 accuse myself I feel at the same time a wish to ex- 
 
ENTRANCE INTO PUBLIC LIFE. 59 
 
 cuse myself to you ; you are the only person in the 
 world from whom I wish to obtain more than I de- 
 serve. And how can I help desiring all that you 
 can give me 1 Ah ! my love, the world is too small 
 and too weak for us, and we ourselves are too feeble 
 for all that is within us. But do not let us think of 
 these things. An active life is, I believe, the regi- 
 men best suited to preserve the balance of our minds; 
 it benefits our bodily frames which would not other- 
 wise be able to bear the wear and tear of a mind 
 constantly contemplating itself It is necessary, 
 thex-efore : — let us talk of something else. 
 
 ' Your poor little boy was yesterday in a state of 
 real agitation and distress at having received no 
 answer from you. He expects one this evening. 
 You have no idea how constantly he thinks of you, 
 dear little fellow. I am, however, obliged often to 
 find fault with him : it is very difficult to "gain his 
 attention. It is a real effort for him — especially in 
 studying, much less in writing. He will be like me ; it 
 will be easier for him to give out than to take in. 
 He is carried away by his imagination, which is very 
 easily stimulated. Since you went he has taken it 
 into his head to be frightened at night because there 
 are only women in the house. Yesterday I showed 
 liim Raphael's St. Michael. He was frightened at 
 tlie devil, although he tried not to show it. He will 
 need strong reasoning powers, and if we two do not 
 succeed in strengthening them it will go hard with 
 him. Good-bye, I shall soon see you again. Do you 
 feel as I do all the happiness this means'? When 
 
60 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 you are with me, leisure, at any rate, rests me ; 
 when you are away work is what I least dislike ; 
 bvit I begin without energy ; it comes back to me as 
 I go on. Again and again farewell ! ' 
 
 Madame Guizot went on writing in spite of the 
 painful effort that it cost her. Always delicate, the 
 burdens formerly laid upon herwere greatly increased 
 by mental anxiety, and permanently affected her 
 health. Her courage did not give way; when it 
 seemed for an instant to fail her she recovered it with 
 a tremendous effort, and the development of her 
 religious faith soothed her anxious spirit ; but her 
 perfect frankness, the need she always felt of ex- 
 pressing all her thoughts, sometimes laid bare the 
 struggles of her mind and heart, especially when 
 she was separated from the confidant of all her emo- 
 tions. There never was any one more thoroughly 
 true, or 'who longed so constantly for truth and 
 perfection in others. This longing of hers was a 
 salutary incentive to well-doing for all who ap- 
 proached her : it was sometimes rather irritating to 
 those who did not aim so high ; but it exerted on all 
 who were worthy of her a powerful influence. 
 
 Some years before this period her sister, Madame 
 Dillon, married for the second time M. de Vaines, 
 Prefect of Bar-le-Duc, and afterwards of Nimes. 
 The Mademoiselles Dillon often stayed with their 
 aunt : the elder, Elisa, spent part of the summer of 
 1820 at the Maisonnette, and Madame Guizot's in- 
 fluence on the mind of her young niece increased 
 with every year. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 1821-22. 
 
 LITEEARY OCCUPATIONS OF M. AND MADAME GUIZOT. 
 
 The complications of family duties often necessitate 
 painful sacrifices. M. Guizot's mother, however, 
 was not forgotten, although the part she now had to 
 play was, of course, a small one for one who possessed 
 such ardent affections. The distance at which she 
 lived, the task she was faithfully fulfilling at the side 
 of her old parents, the narrow means of the whole 
 family, made journeys rare and difficult ; neverthe- 
 less, in 1821 M. and Madame Guizot spent two 
 months at Nimes. M. Guizot was working at his 
 pamphlet, * On the means of Government, and Oppo- 
 sition in the present state of France.^ 
 
 Madame Guizot had undertaken the revision of 
 Letouneur's translation of Shakespeare. She had 
 just finished her little novel, L'^colier, a work of 
 real value in a simple and lively style ; it was on 
 the point of publication. M. Guizot could not fin- 
 ish his pamphlet without returning for a few weeks 
 to the atmosphere of political life in Paris. He 
 went thither alone in the month of September, leav- 
 ing his wife in the country near Montargis with her 
 
62 MONSIEUR GUrZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE, 
 
 second brother, General de Meiilan, married to 
 Mademoiselle Aline de Turpin-Crisse. 
 
 This was another trial of the bitterness of separ- 
 ation. 
 
 On the twenty-ninth of September Madame Guizot 
 wrote : ' If I did not expect to get on with my 
 work during this month, what, I ask, would be the 
 good of living through it ? Occupied only in bear- 
 ing it, what advantage can I derive from it ? What- 
 ever you may say, I like life only when it bears me 
 on, not when I have to bear it ; like money, it is for 
 me a means, not an end. I am happy, the happiest 
 creature upon earth, I love life because I love hap- 
 piness ; but, away from you, I do not live, there is 
 between me and happiness a cloud which prevents 
 its rays from reaching me in all their fulness and 
 purity. There, in my heart, the seat of all my hap- 
 piness, I feel something that does not resemble it, 
 something that warns me of its absence, and makes 
 me impatient to get over the time which I generally 
 spend in being happy. You see that it would be a 
 very good thing to cut out this period. I would 
 willingly part with as many months of this kind as 
 may be in store for me ; I should not cast a glance 
 after them. I am not, however, out of temper. I 
 do not get cross with the days as they pass ; I only 
 say to them, " You are not worth the trouble you 
 give me." 
 
 A few days later she wrote : — 
 
 ' What you say of the continuance of our present 
 position I have long thought. I think a great deal 
 
LITERAET OCCUPATIOKS. 63 
 
 about it ; not that I am uneasy as regards pecuniary 
 matters — I am quite sure that we shall manage in 
 that respect : but it has an appearance of expectation 
 which I do not like. I do not know how to change 
 this, or if it can be changed ; it is enough for me to 
 point it out to you, in order that if you agree with 
 me you may turn your mind to the subject. Any 
 long and important literary work would be enough 
 to change this aspect : something more than a polit- 
 ical essay, which takes only six months, would suit 
 us in this respect. We must wait upon opportunity ; 
 no one is more convinced of this than I am ; but I 
 talk about it because one seizes it better when one is 
 prepared beforehand. I do not yet know if you will 
 agree with me, but it seems to me, that with this end 
 in view, it would be as well to announce, either in 
 the preface or elsewhere, — or rather, to indicate, 
 without making any distinct assertion, that you do 
 not intend to continue to bring out a pamphlet every 
 year on the events of the day. It seems to me that 
 this may be suggested without being exactly said, 
 by remarking that, as long as this Ministry lasts, 
 only some trifling modifications can take place in the 
 administration — not worth the trouble of pointing 
 out. 
 
 ' You are not certain, then, that M. Royer will be 
 elected. I am sorry ; it will be a misfortune. We 
 must have lost a great deal in that direction, as in 
 many others. But, my dear good friend, it is not 
 the defection of electors of that stamp, or even a 
 little superior to them, that ought to make you lose 
 
64 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 faith in mankind. There is a natural aristocracy in 
 the human race, as there is in nations ; in these 
 nobler natures we should place our confidence, just 
 as political rights are vested in the higher classes of 
 the nation ; all the rest is the mob — and it is very 
 numerous. And, besides, I must tell you that I do 
 not know what you mean by having no faith in 
 men ; one's faith was never a quality of theirs ; one 
 has faith in one's own judgment, which chooses from 
 among the crowd the men in whom one has faith ; 
 if one has been mistaken it is in oneself that one 
 loses one's trust; other people lose nothing, and 
 oneself gains a good deal — the habit of thinking 
 twice. I carry within myself a type which no power 
 can destroy ; even if I had never found anything 
 resembling it, it would have lost for me no jot of its 
 beauty or of its reality ; I should have lived with its 
 image, and I should have cared for nothing else. 
 Dearest, I have found this ideal of excellence ; I am 
 fated to spend my life with it ; I have devoted to it 
 my whole existence. Indeed, I assure you, that if 
 even the whole world were worthy of contempt, I 
 should still possess a treasure which I have not the 
 power in this life of loving as much as I ought. 
 
 ' Yes, here is one week gone ; I never expected as 
 much : this gives me hope for the rest. I haA^e made 
 the same remark in travelling ; one gets over only 
 one mile and one day at a time, and each day that 
 passes does not add much to the number of those 
 that are gone ; in each one feels the pain of separa- 
 tion as acutely and as completely ; but only at the 
 
LITERARY OCCUPATIONS. 65 
 
 instant when one feels the weight of the whole num- 
 ber — which we ought to distribute equally over 
 the whole time — at once, is one overwhelmed by 
 it. We feel the passions which belong to the states 
 in which we are not, at the same time with those 
 which belong to the state in which we are. " But 
 sufficient for the day is the evil thereofj" and this is 
 how we continue to live and to endure. 
 
 ' When will you begin to print 1 I am eager to 
 read you. Are you aware that for the first time 
 since I have known you a work of yours will appear 
 that I have not read beforehand? I am curious to 
 see the effect it will produce on me ; I am sure that 
 at first I shall receive only a confused impression, so 
 many things — feelings and ideas — will be mingled 
 while I am reading.' 
 
 * I have just corrected my first proof,' M. Guizot 
 writes, on the fifth of October; 'you see that no 
 time has been lost. I now wish that any success 
 that I may obtain were over : not that I am indiffer- 
 ent to it, on the contrary, I should greatly enjoy it ; 
 but the petty details consequent on a success, the 
 hash made up of compliments, praises, and fine 
 speeches, displeases and worries me. I wish that 
 when once the work were done and had produced 
 its desired effect, one might dispense with all this 
 empty chatter, the vulgar satisfaction of childish 
 vanity. I reproach myself, however, for my increas- 
 ing anxiety about my reputation : I can do nothing 
 which is more than half approved. After all, this 
 
66 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 may be a good thing : it cannot be helped, whatever 
 happens. You know that with regard to action or 
 authorship, when I have done my best I am dis- 
 posed to care httle for the result, whatever it may be. 
 
 ' Your letter, to-morrow, will tell me what you 
 think of the quotation from Omer Talon ; it is not 
 exactly as I told you, but such as it is, it suits me 
 very well for a motto : " Empires have no critical 
 days or years ; their fortunes do not depend upon 
 the celestial bodies ; no genius presides over them, 
 and no fate impels them that is not the result of 
 good or bad government." Or what do you say to 
 this one taken from Seneca : " Sanabilibus segrota- 
 mus malis — We sicken of ills which can be cured : " 
 it has its merits, but I like Talon's better, both in 
 itself, and because I prefer a French motto. 
 
 ' Your novel appears on the day after to-morrow 
 — a singular coincidence — we are marching side 
 by side : I do not complain. Perhaps it would have 
 been better to put an interval of two months between 
 our publications, the ill-humour which I shall arouse 
 may, perhaps, extend to you ; but I do not think 
 that you will care. My Pauline, we are always 
 united, always the same career, the same life.' 
 
 ' General Cambronne dined at Lille with the 
 King of England; he drank nothing but water, 
 while the English were gorging themselves with 
 wine; and he uttered only this one speech: the 
 King admired white uniforms, M. de la Chatre said, 
 "They have one advantage, each regiment may 
 liave different facings, so as to strike the eye, and 
 
LITERAKY OCCUPATIONS. 67 
 
 make it easy after a battle to find out the regiment 
 to which each soldier belongs." " We were 600,000 
 men, all in blue," retorted Cambronne^ " and we 
 always recognised each other easily." After this he 
 relapsed into silence. 
 
 *I went yesterday to the Gazza Ladra; there are 
 three or four songs in it admirable in expression ; 
 rich and as pathetic as the finale in the Agnese. I 
 longed for you there, as I do everywhere ; the story 
 itself, foolish as it is, interested me extremely. A 
 father, who is a soldier, condemned as a deserter; 
 a servant girl condemned as a thief ; both of them 
 innocent ; the deepest feelings in the simplest natures, 
 the most powerful situations in the most obscure 
 destinies ; there is something new and dramatic in 
 all this. It is a mistake to lay the scene of a drama 
 in the middle classes — in those moderate circum- 
 stances where everything is often common without 
 being simple. Natural ideas and feelings in un- 
 cultured minds, tragical combinations of human life 
 in a completely secluded sphere, the sort of events 
 which excite and develop the whole being in natures 
 that have lived quite apart from the world and are 
 not merely pale reflections of the upper classes ; 
 liere is a source which affords very true and intensely 
 striking situations. A middle-class tragedy is almost 
 necessarily puerile and exaggerated; a lower-class 
 tragedy may be simple and terrible, it may portray 
 strong, but not declamatory passions ; dramatic, but 
 not romantic situations. The laws of society origi- 
 nate in the higher classes ; when they reach the lower. 
 
68 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 all sorts of incongniilies take place. Extreme pov- 
 erty, pressing and always repressed necessities, very 
 natural and very noble complications, situations 
 which the usual course of events touches and 
 destroys without any reason or any mercy because 
 the individual sufferers attract no attention before- 
 hand — in short, the whole force of human nature, 
 with every nerve strained in struggling with all the 
 vicissitudes, all the possibilities of destiny — a man 
 of genius might find here a mine of the newest and 
 most powerful effects. 
 
 ' I let myself go on describing to you the im- 
 pressions of a few hours, I ought to tell you a 
 thousand other things. This morning I read by way 
 of relaxation, Madame de Stael's Ten Years of Exile. 
 It is a strange book, and it touched me more than I 
 can say. A woman so tender and so passionate, 
 contending with the strength and dryness of Bona- 
 parte ; too moral to act from complaisance, too weak 
 not to regret all she renounces ; letting herself down 
 in a degree by the frank avowal of all she suffers, 
 and at the same time raising herself in our estimation 
 by her invincible resistance to a power which she 
 can neither accept nor despise ; all this forms a very 
 original and touching combination. But we will 
 talk about this and about everything, my Pauline; for 
 without you, nothing is complete for me. I am, if 
 you will, the centre of our common life ; but when 
 you are not there, a part of me is wanting; and 
 I look about me for that half of myself, whose 
 absence makes the other half pine away, as the 
 
LITERARY OCCUPATIONS. 69 
 
 blessed souls would pine were they driven from 
 Paradise. 
 
 ' What a volume I have written to you ! and I 
 don't know why I should stop, for I have thousands 
 of things to tell you. God did well when he took a 
 rib from Adam to create Eve, but He ought not to 
 have entirely separated them ; He ought to have made 
 them hold together in some way that would make 
 absence impossible. Good-bye, good-bye, I have 
 quantities of other letters to write.' 
 
 The strong and noble friendship with which 
 Madame Guizot carried her watchfulness into the 
 smallest details of their common life, induced her to 
 entreat her husband not to allow himself often to be 
 drawn into the temptation of giving his opinion on 
 the actions of a' Government over which he had no 
 influence. The reins of power at length dropped 
 from the honest but weak hands which had tried in 
 vain to direct its course in a moderately liberal 
 road ; the Right * seized them for a long period, and 
 Madame Guizot no longer tried to keep her champion 
 away from the new arena which he entered openly 
 under the banner of the Opposition. 
 
 It was a time of political plots and prosecutions. 
 In 1821 M. Guizot published a pamphlet on Con- 
 
 * In French political language the Droit always means the 
 Conservative side of the Chamber ; the Gauche, the Liberal side. 
 Both the Droit and the Gauche are divided into three shades of 
 opinion ; for instance, the Left, the Left-Centre, and the Extreme 
 Left ; in the same waj', the Eight, the Eight-Centre, and the 
 Extreme Eight. — Tr. 
 
70 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 spiracles and Political Justice ; in June 1822 lie left 
 Bois-Milet to print liis little volume On Capital 
 Punishment for Political Offences. The public feeling 
 agreed with him, and was averse to the exercise of 
 administrative severity. A great many acquittals 
 took place. 
 
 ' I will explain to you the affair at Nantes,' M. 
 Guizot writes on the twenty-fourth of June. ' There 
 was no regular plot, but a secret association strongly 
 bound together and ready to seize its opportunity, 
 as was the case on the other side in 1817. The force 
 of public opinion caused an acquittal, the jurors, al- 
 though chosen one by one, were not able to resist it. 
 Four days ago Corbieres said in his drawing-room 
 that he was very glad that the prisoners had been 
 acquitted, for otherwise civil war would have un- 
 doubtedly broken out in Brittany. It is possible that 
 a similar result will take place at Colmar. Society, 
 without moving its little finger, will defend itself much 
 better than is expected. You are right in hoping 
 that all this will disgust people with conspiracies. 
 
 ' The misfortune is that I am obliged to stay here 
 to correct my proofs ; I have sought for reasons 
 against reason, and I have found none. In spite of 
 all our wishes and endeavours, reason, invincible 
 reason, presei-ves its despotic independence, and in 
 spite of us and against us tells us what is wise, 
 reasonable, and true. Really I should be wrong not 
 to finish my work. I constantly change a word 
 here and a sentence there, in consequence of what I 
 am told and of what I see, and these changes are of 
 
LITERARY OCCUPATIONS. 71 
 
 some importance. I must be especially careful to 
 say nothing too bitter, for at this moment this would 
 be to fail utterly. I must not make a mistake of 
 this kind.' 
 
 While M. Guizot was correcting his proofs, calling 
 on his publishers and preparing future work for his 
 wife and himself, he was going on studying for his 
 course of lectures, which he resumed in 1820, on the 
 History of the Origin of Representative Govern- 
 ment. 
 
 ' My object was to combat revolutionary theories, 
 and to attach interest and respect to the past history 
 of France. We had scarcely emerged from the 
 most furious struggle against that old French society, 
 our secular cradle ; our hearts, if not still overflow- 
 ing with anger, were indifferent towards it, and our 
 minds were confusedly imbued with the ideas, true 
 or false, imder which it had fallen. The time had 
 come for clearing out that arena covered with ruins, 
 and for substituting, in thought as in fact, equity for 
 hostility, and the "principles of liberty for the arms 
 of the Revolution; an edifice is not built with 
 machines of war; neither can a free system be 
 founded on ignorant prejudices and inveterate antip- 
 athies. I encoimtered, at every step throughout my 
 course, the great problems of social organization un- 
 der the name of which parties and classes exchangd 
 such heavy blows — the sovereignty of the people 
 and the right divine of kings, monarchy, and repub- 
 licanism, aristocracy and democracy, the unity or 
 division of power, and the various systems of elec- 
 
72 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 tion, constitution, and action of the assemblies called 
 to co-operate in government. I entered upon all 
 these questions with a firm determination to sift 
 thoroughly the ideas of our own time, and to sepa- 
 rate revolutionary excitement and fantasies from the 
 advances of justice and liberty, reconcilable with 
 the eternal laws of social order. By the side of this 
 philosophic undertaking I pursued another, exclu- 
 sively historical ; I endeavoured to demonstrate the 
 intermitting but always recurring efforts of French 
 society to emerge from the violent chaos in which it 
 had been originally formed, sometimes produced by 
 the conflict, and at others by the accordance, of its 
 different elements — royalty, nobility, clergy, citi- 
 zens, and people — throughout the different phases 
 of that harsh destiny, and the glorious, although 
 incomplete, development of French civilization, such 
 as the Revolution had compiled it after so many 
 combats and vicissitudes. I particularly wished to 
 associate old France with the remembrance and 
 intelligence of new generations, for there was as 
 little sense as justice in decrying or despising our 
 fathers, at the very moment when, equally misled in 
 our time, we were taking an immense step in the 
 same path which they had followed for so many 
 ages. 
 
 ' I expounded these ideas before an audience little 
 disposed to adopt or even to take any interest in 
 them. The public who at that time attended my 
 lectures were much less numerous and varied than 
 they became some years later. They consisted 
 
LITERARY OCCUPATIONS. 73 
 
 chiefly of young men, pupils of the different scien- 
 tific schools, and of a few curious amateurs of great 
 historical disquisitions. The one class were not pre- 
 pared for the questions I proposed, and wanted the 
 preparatory knowledge which would have rendered 
 them acceptable. With many of the rest, precon- 
 ceived ideas of the eighteenth century and the 
 Revolution, in matters of historical and political 
 philosophy, had already acquired that strength 
 derived from inveterate habit, which rejects discus- 
 sion and listens coldly and distrustfully to all that 
 differs from their own opinions. Others, again, and 
 amongst these were the most active and accessible 
 dispositions, were more or less engaged in the secret 
 societies, hostile intrigues, and plots. With these 
 my opposition was considered extremely supine. I 
 had thus many obstacles to surmount and many 
 conversions to effect before I could bring over to 
 my own views the small circle that listened to my 
 arguments. 
 
 ' But there is always, in a French audience, what- 
 ever may be their prejudices, an intellectual elas- 
 ticity, a relish for efforts of the mind, and new ideas 
 boldly set forward, and a certain liberal equity, 
 which disposes them to sympathise ; even though 
 they may hesitate to admit conviction. I was at the 
 same time Liberal and anti-revolutionary, devoted to 
 the fundamental principles of the new French social 
 system, and animated by an affectionate respect for 
 our ancient reminiscences. I was opposed to the 
 ideas which constituted the political faith of the 
 
74 MONSIEUE GUIZOT IN PfaVATE LIFE. 
 
 greater portion of my auditors. I propounded others 
 which appeared suspicious to them, even while they 
 seemed just; they considered me as made up of 
 obscurities, contradictions, and prospective views, 
 which astonished and made them hesitate to follow 
 me. At the same time they felt that I was serious 
 and sincere; they became gradually convinced that 
 my historic impartiality was not indifferent, nor my 
 political creed a leaning towards the old system, nor 
 my opposition to every kind of subversive plot a 
 truckling complaisance for power. I gained ground 
 in the estimation of my listeners ; some amongst the 
 most distinguished came decidedly over to my views, 
 others began to entertain doubts on the soundness 
 of their theories and the utility of their conspiring 
 practices ; nearly all agreed with my just apprecia- 
 tion of the past, and my recommendation of patient 
 and legal opposition to the mistakes of the present. 
 The revolutionary spirit in this young and ardent 
 section of the public was visibly on the decline, not 
 from scepticism and apathy, but because other ideas 
 and sentiments occupied its place in their hearts, and 
 drove it out to make room for their own admission.'* 
 The Cabinet of 1822 thought differently ; it was ir- 
 ritated by the language of M. Guizot and his friends, 
 M. Guizot's course was closed on the twelfth of Octo- 
 ber, 1822, when the professor was preparing his 
 subject for the winter. ' My lectures being inter- 
 dicted, all immediate political influence became 
 
 * From M. Guizot's Memoirs to illustrate the History of my 
 Time, English translation, Bentley & Co., vol. i. p. 300. — Tr. 
 
LITERAKT OCCUPATIONS. 75 
 
 impossible to me. To struggle beyond the circle of 
 the Chambers against the existing system it was 
 necessary either to conspire or to descend to a blind, 
 perverse, and futile opposition. Neither of these 
 courses was agreeable ; I therefore completely re- 
 nounced all party contentions, even philosophical 
 and abstracted, to seek elsewhere the means of still 
 mentally serving my cause with reference to the 
 future ' * 
 
 For a long time Madame Guizot had been anxious 
 to obtain for her husband, as well as for herself, a 
 work of some length. She was writing another 
 volume of stories, but it was only to fill up an 
 interval ; she was planning much more important 
 undertakings. The publication of two great collec- 
 tions of memoirs — one on the Ancient History of 
 France, the other on the Revolution in England — 
 in which at that time M. Guizot was beginning to 
 take a lively interest, seemed likely to answer her 
 purpose. It was difficult to start fairly either of these 
 works. In her letters to her husband she insists on 
 the necessity for perseverance. 
 
 ' Baudoin will not undertake it ; this vexes me less 
 perhaps for the present than for the future — for the 
 sake of our whole position. I never expected that 
 the work that I am now about, and which will take 
 up all my time, would be sufficient for us this winter ; 
 I cannot help thinking that it will be difficult to get 
 over that time even if it should enter into your ar- 
 
 * From the same translation of M. Guizot's Memoirs- 
 
76 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IK PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 rangements to publish a volume in the autumn ; the 
 terms of payment which would suit me, because, 
 with my provident disposition, I always prefer to 
 sacrifice the present, will leave us large gaps to fill 
 up. during the next year; and then, too, it may not 
 suit you to publish. We must see then what we can 
 do. As you know I wanted to find something which 
 would give us a settled employment, and prove the 
 foundation of a different sort of life than ours is now ; 
 otherwise this will go on for a long time, a very long 
 time. I am convinced of this more and more every 
 day, and not only for myself (who am used to it), 
 but for you, this uncertain mode of existence is 
 disagreeable to me. It was to get over this difficulty 
 that we thought of undertaking those two great 
 works ; they have both fallen through, and we soon 
 shall have lost a year from the time when we had 
 hoped to lay the first stone of the little fortune which 
 we must build in one way or another. Think of all 
 this, dear, while you are correcting your proofs — 
 try to hit upon some idea — you say that you have 
 two to my one, so much the better. 
 
 ' Do not be afraid of setting me to work, dearest ; 
 I am quite well again, and although I am afraid that 
 the freshness of my imagination has somewhat worn 
 off for the sort of work I now have in hand, neverthe- 
 less, I shall be able to manage it, and by raising a 
 little my tone, or at least my subject, I may succeed 
 pretty well in future attempts. I would rather, how- 
 ever, not have always to tnist to my imagination, 
 which may not always be equally available, it has 
 
LITERARY OCCUPATIONS. 77 
 
 not variety enough to prevent my being afraid of tir- 
 ing the public, and does not exercise itself over a field 
 wide enough to yield much profit. What I should 
 much prefer would be some work in which I should 
 undertake the drudgery, and to which you would 
 give colour and breadth. But where shall we find 
 one to suit you 1 Our position is an obstacle ; there 
 are some things which you cannot do ; we seem to 
 be too grand folks for publishers to come to us. It 
 is a difficult position, especially for people who 
 have to make their own fortune. This is what I am 
 constantly thinking about. As to details, I have no 
 doubt but that this year once over we shall always 
 be able to get on. I have just read your letter again, 
 and I cannot help smiling, although I am little in the 
 mood for mirth. You say that you have bound me 
 to a hazardous, uncertain fate ; in truth, if it were 
 not for you, mine would be settled soon enough.' 
 
 ' Your letters breathe life,' Madame Gruizot some- 
 times said to her husband. ' You reconcile me to 
 the whole world, by reminding me of our union, our 
 happiness.' 
 
 In saying this she spoke truly ; and she needed 
 this cordial. Although she displayed so much forti- 
 tude in real sorrow, she was easily disquieted by 
 imaginary troubles which her husband was able to 
 banish with a word. The important works, for 
 which she was so earnestly desirous, were again 
 brought forward ; the task laid before the two 
 workers reached to an infinite perspective. M. 
 Guizot was returning joyfully to the country. 
 
78 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PEIVATE LIFE. 
 
 'Without counting my home happiness,' he wrote, 
 ' I shall be very glad to quit Paris for Bois-Milet ; 
 for a few days I enjoyed looking at its outside and 
 talking to my friends ; but I begin to have an un- 
 conquerable aversion for unprofitable words ; there 
 is no worse gossip than that which relates to politics. 
 One listens to what one knew beforehand; one's 
 answers are equally stale to the people one is talking 
 to ; it is both dull and worrying. I greatly prefer 
 the conversation of the trees, the wind, the sun, and 
 the clouds. Man is infinitely superior to nature; 
 but nature, although monotonous, is inexhaustible. 
 "We know that she is and will be always the same ; 
 in her presence we do not feel the desire for progress 
 which makes us tire of society or of conversation 
 which does not satisfy the mind. Who ever wanted 
 the trees to turn red or blue, or thought that the sun 
 of to-day was wrong to be so like the sun of yester- 
 day? Progress and novelty are not expected in 
 nature, and this is why she restores us after the 
 tedium, and rests us after the excitement, of society. 
 It is her privilege to be always the same, yet never 
 insipid ; if man is stationary he becomes dull, and 
 he is not strong enough to be always moving on- 
 wards. I expect, however, to find some progress at 
 Bois-Milet — the walls, the bricks — all will have 
 got on in my absence : only I hope you have told 
 the raspberries not to take themselves off.' 
 
 My father throughout his life, preferred human 
 to material nature. ' I would not go twenty miles to 
 see a landscape,' he used to say ; ' I would travel a 
 
LITERARY OCCUPATIONS. 79 
 
 thousand to see a person.' 'What I like in M. 
 Guizot,' said the Duchesse de BrogHe, ' is that he is 
 fond of human nature ! ' But as he grew older, the 
 feeling of repose, induced by the aspect of nature in 
 her changeless variety, went on developing in his 
 mind, as well as his dislike of idle conversation. 
 ' Nothing tires me so much as to have to support a 
 good cause by bad reasons,' he often said, ' except, 
 perhaps, to talk or listen to talking for talking 
 sake.' 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 1823-27. 
 
 DOMESTIC HAPPINESS DEATH OP MADAME PAULINE 
 
 GUIZOT. 
 
 The domestic happiness and noble life of M. and 
 Madame Guizot afforded a rare and touchino: siffht at 
 this period. They worked on, conscientiously and 
 assiduously, undisturbed by the great intellectual 
 animation of which their little drawing-room was a 
 lively centre. Their family circle was diminished in 
 one direction, and increased in another. M. Bonicel, 
 Monsieur Guizot's grandfather, died at a great age ; 
 his wife had preceded him to the grave ; their 
 daughter, thus set free from the pious duty which she 
 had fulfilled to the end, came to live in Paris in the 
 house of her elder son, her second son was at that 
 time a sous-prefet. She thought that she had finished 
 her task, and was once more to enjoy the repose 
 which she had lost sight of during a time of long 
 and cruel suffering. God decided otherwise, and it 
 was to her dying day that this strong soul and inex- 
 haustible heart had to help those who were dear to 
 her in bearing the burdens laid upon them. 
 
Fei-a, DeUmioj 
 
 iV\Al)i\MK GlilZOT 
 
DOMESTIC HAPPINESS. 81 
 
 A great sorrow fell upon M. and Madame Guizot. 
 Madame de Vaines died in November, 1823, confid- 
 ing to her daughter Elisa, then not twenty years old, 
 the care of her younger sister, a delicate and restless 
 child, and that of a little brother aged six. M. de 
 Vaines had lost his appointment, and came to live 
 in Paris ; for the future. Mademoiselle Dillon shared 
 the daily interests, as well as the daily occupations, 
 of her uncle and aunt. Her mind developed every 
 day by contact with theirs ; she already began to 
 write for the pleasure of writing and of preserving 
 the thoughts which filled her imagination. Endowed 
 with a rare memory, she readily devoured all sorts 
 of important books, ' your most dangerous rivals 
 with me,' as she wrote to her sister ; but she imme- 
 diately added, with the eager tenderness which 
 always made affection her first object, ' your rivals, 
 my Pauline ? For the pleasure of seeing you I 
 would give up every book that has ever been printed. 
 You are a thousand times more to me than all the 
 furniture of my mind ; you fill my soul, you are the 
 cherished object of all my thoughts. It is not for 
 the sake of what I know that you love me, or that 
 I am loved by my family ; knowledge belongs to 
 time, and will cease with man's ignorance ; but love 
 will always remain ; like God, it is immortal. My 
 dear, I shall always be your Elisa, even when the 
 centuries shall liave passed away. " Faith and hope 
 may perish," as St. Paul says, " but love will abide 
 for ever." Everything belonging to us, then, will 
 perish, except the Divine Spirit of love, which God 
 
82 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 has breathed into us to make us continually aspire 
 to the infinite. Why should we love each other if 
 it were only for a time ? " Everything that is fugi- 
 tive is so short," ' says St Augustine. 
 
 'Happiness itself would be suflfering to me,' M. 
 Guizot wrote some years earlier, ' if I saw in it only 
 a pastime, if I could believe in the sudden disap- 
 pearance, the successive extinction of all these inef- 
 fable emotions and celestial joys; even if I knew 
 that they were to be renewed every day, and to the 
 last day of my life. The past is as precious as the 
 present ; it is a necessity for my mind that all I have 
 felt should remain for ever, and that of our united 
 lives nothing should ever be lost.' 
 
 Receiving as she did every morning, similar let- 
 ters, Madame Gruizot had a right to say : ' Dearest, 
 when I read over and over again your charming 
 letters, these expressions of simple, I might even 
 say, of youthful tenderness, and I think of the idea 
 that a great many people have of you — as of a 
 proud, ambitious man, with a cold heart and calcu- 
 lating head — the contrast strikes as so strange, that 
 I cannot be angry with these foolish judgments. I 
 laugh at the effect which your letters, — the whole 
 series of them, alike and yet so various — would 
 produce on certain people I could mention. Man's 
 opinion is a very fine thing, and one cares about it, 
 thank God ! not more than in reason ; nevertheless, 
 one sets a certain value upon it, greater than it 
 deserves ; and this is good, for if one estimated it at 
 its real importance, social relations would be in 
 some danger of annihilation.' 
 
DOMESTIC HAPPINESS. 83 
 
 M. Guizot stimulated by his influence an ever- 
 increasing animation in historical studies and re- 
 search ; he set himself at the head of this movement, 
 and laboured incessantly. In 1833 he began to 
 publish his collection of Memoirs relating to the 
 ancient history of France ; at the same time, Madame 
 Guizot's translation of Gregory of Tours struck all 
 readers as a masterpiece of precision and unaffected 
 simplicity. At the same time, she edited the collec- 
 tion of Memoirs relating to the History of the English 
 Revolution, and M. Guizot was preparing those 
 Essays on the History of France in the Fifth Century, 
 which, for the first time, threw a strong light upon 
 the dark origin of our civilisation. The materials 
 on which he founded his History of the English Rev- 
 olution were from this period the object of his most 
 conscientious study. He classified, day by day, in 
 a tabular form, events even of the smallest import- 
 ance. 
 
 On her side Madame Guizot published her New 
 Tales, which have remained a classic for the children 
 of all countries, thanks to the moral elevation and 
 power of the lessons they contain, hidden under the 
 simplest form, and adorned with the most charming 
 stories. She began to write her Family Letters on 
 Education, ' the only work she undertook freely, of 
 her own accord, and with complete satisfaction. 
 Tlie care of her son taught her a great deal about 
 education, no one could hold more liberal views, 
 she wrote nothing on the subject which she did not 
 apply, her talent for discovering and following out 
 
84 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 in real life the consequences of a principle was much 
 developed by studying the character of her boy.' * 
 
 She, however, knew nothing of ordinary, practical 
 education, for she had had to do with an only child, 
 a delicate and rare nature, precociously developed 
 by the atmosphere in which he lived. Her religious 
 faith, although it grew stronger every day, was 
 wanting in definiteness, in that precision wliich is 
 more necessary perhaps in our relation to children 
 than in any other. The mark of the philosophy of 
 the eighteenth century was often evident in her 
 educational theories, even when she thouglit they 
 were most completely free from it; there were, in 
 consequence, some omissions, which one cannot help 
 regretting, in her book ; but with this exception, no 
 work on this inexhaustible subject lias ever attained 
 the same degree of moral elevation, delicate percep- 
 tion, and unprejudiced judgment. 
 
 She sometimes said that she had ' had no idea 
 beforehand of a mother's love,' but when she expe- 
 rienced it she felt it rapturously ; an infinite tender- 
 ness was always mingled with the respect she felt 
 for those immortal souls which are confided to our 
 care, and whose will is so strong and untameable 
 even on the threshold of life. 
 
 No one ever appreciated more than she did the 
 treasures which lie hidden in a child's heart and 
 mind; she was never tired of observing, consider- 
 ing, and expressing the principles derived from her 
 
 * From M. Guizot's notes. 
 
DEATH OF MADAME PAULINE GUIZOT. 85 
 
 observations ; from time to time she paused in her 
 writing, a prey to tender emotions. 
 
 ' My heart melts with tenderness when I look at 
 my children,' are the words she puts into the mouth 
 of Madame d'Attilly, and they are the exact expres- 
 sion of her own feelings. ' God instructs us in His 
 laws, and the mother teaches them to her child,' she 
 says ; and she sums up admirably the whole aim of 
 the great work of education by saying : ' It consists 
 in enabling children to control themselves by means 
 of their own free will. To succeed, education must 
 make use of the desire for liberty, which is the true 
 foundation for obedience.' 
 
 Madame Guizot's book was published in 1826, she 
 devoted the last remnant of her strength to it: 
 work, indeed, was the law of her whole life. Her 
 health, which had long been delicate, was gradually 
 failing, she was seriously ill, although no one knew 
 it. Great restlessness was pi'esently a symptom of 
 the malady detected by the doctors ; she suffered 
 greatly, she felt her strength unequal to bear her 
 suffering, and she passionately longed for anything 
 which might enable her to live. She wanted to 
 leave Paris, to establish herself in the country, to 
 breathe the air of the fields. Distance from medical 
 advice and the nature of her illness made any change 
 of place difficult ; she deplored it passionately, with 
 the impressionable vivacity which her reason had 
 never succeeded in conquering, and which her phy- 
 sical weakness rendered both more intense and more 
 touching. I find the expression of her feelings at 
 
86 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 this time in M. Guizot's notes on this period of their 
 married life. She says : — 
 
 'Remember, dearest, that I have seen nothing, 
 known nothing, exhausted nothing; my life has been 
 almost as stationary as it has been laborious. Before 
 our marriage I had never been beyond the suburbs 
 of Paris ; the Revolution, which excited me so power- 
 fully, drove me no farther than Passy : I have felt 
 much, thought and worked much, but every change 
 has been from within ; I have drawn all my experi- 
 ence from myself I lived on in the same spot 
 without any communication from the outside world, 
 almost without being aware that there was such a 
 world. Since our marriage I have looked a little 
 more often out of the window, and the happier I 
 have grown, the more eager I have been to enjoy 
 every pleasure that was offered to me. I have be- 
 come very old, very weary, very ill ; and yet, dear, 
 the slightest excitement out of doors, the very idea 
 of a beautiful country, of some great event, of a fine 
 sight, of some new and interesting scene, restores 
 my youth and my energy ; it seems as if I had 
 exhausted only half my life — that which goes on 
 within — and that I might possibly find the other 
 half, which might carry me on again, outside these 
 walls ; from afar, dearest, it is from afar that my 
 best hopes come. I say to myself that, perhaps, 
 my own end is not near, since notliing has ended 
 for me ; I regard this as a good symptom, I am glad 
 for both our sakes to feel the world so full, and my- 
 self so ready to enjoy and to take interest in so many 
 
DEATH OF MADAME PAULINE GUIZOT. 87 
 
 things. Be sure that if only I can regain my health 
 a little, you will find me as I used to be ; I shall — 
 without the slightest effort and without desiring any 
 praise — want nothing when with you, ask nothing, 
 desire nothing, see nothing but you. But now I 
 require some amusement and employment to rest 
 the activity of my ideas, to divert my mind from 
 work, and, at the same time, prevent it from dwell- 
 ing on itself I shall find all this, I hope, in travel- 
 ling, in movement, and in novelty; I have faith in 
 the instinct which makes me desire this so intensely.' 
 
 Every tender objection, all the doctors' hesita- 
 tions, were obliged to yield to her passionate wishes. 
 M. Guizot always retained a cruel impression of the 
 long resistance he had thought it right to oppose to 
 her desire. M. Eoyer-Collard was the only one 
 among his friends who encouraged him to go away. 
 ' Is there anything to be done here to relieve her 1 ' 
 he said. ' If there is nothing let her decide for her- 
 self — consult no one but her and yourself.' 
 
 No one could cure, or even mitigate, the malady 
 which was killing her. The great surgeon M. Boyer, 
 advised Plombidres. 
 
 ' I can see now how her countenance, her eyes 
 lighted up, as soon as I mentioned this word, with 
 unexpected, anxious joy. She could not believe that 
 such a hope was permitted to her : that a thousand 
 objections, a thousand obstacles, would not rise up 
 at once to rob her of it.' 
 
 After inevitable delays, during which her weakness 
 and sufferings increased, M. Guizot at last took his 
 
88 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 wife to Plombieres, accompanied by his mother, his 
 son, and Mademoiselle Dillon. Of all the trials in 
 his long Hfe, few left such melancholy traces in his 
 memory as this journey — a long and troublesome 
 one at that time — with no other result than a more 
 and more rapid progress in the disease. 
 
 She left Paris on the sixteenth of June, 1827, full 
 of joy and hope. As soon as she passed the barrier 
 she was charmed. ' You may be sure that this is no 
 illusion,' she said. 'The air is not the same as in 
 the streets; the sun does more good in the fields 
 than in houses. As soon as I left Paris a very posi- 
 tive, distinct sensation told me that my condition 
 was changed.' 
 
 Mademoiselle Dillon wrote to her sister : 
 
 ' She came back on the twenty-seventh of July, 
 1827, exhausted, extinguished, discouraged; she still 
 thought of others, but at times she was conquered 
 by suiferings beyond the power of human nature to 
 endure. On her arrival in Paris, Madame de Razo- 
 mousky, one of her dearest friends, came to see her. 
 ' My dear,' she said, ' here am I in my bed ; I shall 
 leave it one way or another: I have given myself 
 up.' 
 
 Two days later, on the first of August, 1827, she 
 expired, while her husband, who was sitting by her 
 side, was reading to her a sermon of Bossuet's on 
 the immortality of the soul. 
 
 ' Yours are the only words that have toTiched me, 
 my dear friend,' M. Guizot wrote on the eighth of 
 August, to M. de Barante, with whom he had been 
 
DEATH OF MADAME PAULINE GUIZOT. 89 
 
 intimate for years; 'her happiness was due to me 
 only ; it was entire, unalloyed, and it endured to the 
 last. If this thought could be always with me there 
 would be some sweetness mixed with my bitter 
 grief. But I can only feel it now and then ; I seize 
 it, and then I fall back on myself into the awful void 
 — under this frightful weight. I know that I am 
 wrong. Next to the happiness of having her for 
 my wife, what I should have wished for most in the 
 whole world — even at the price of this sorrow — 
 would have been to have possessed her. For fifteen 
 years the former happiness was mine ; the latter is 
 mine still : I have no right to complain. We were 
 not separated until the very last ; she still lived, even 
 while passing through the gates of death ; and I was 
 allowed to live with her as long as is ever permitted 
 to man. She died while listening to Bossuet's ser- 
 mon on the immortality of the soul. I know in 
 which place, in what sentence she ceased to hear my 
 voice; two minutes before, she had become con- 
 fused, she made an effort to recover her senses, she 
 evidently wanted to follow to the end Bossuet's 
 sound and noble argument. Her effort succeeded, 
 she was herself again, she heard the end of the par- 
 agraph, and then she literally passed away from us, 
 borne on the wings of this excellent proof of the 
 soul's immortality. 
 
 'A quarter of an hour later, when she could no 
 longer see or hear me, she pressed my hand from 
 time to time ; ten minutes after she ceased to do so 
 she had completely ceased to breathe, without any 
 
90 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 alteration to show tliat she had passed through the 
 slightest struggle — she was no more, and that was 
 all. 
 
 'I do not ask you to forgive these details. I 
 think of nothing else, I must be silent or speak of 
 her ; and I am sure that you will like to follow the 
 last steps in this world of this noble and tender 
 being ; one of the noblest, as Royer writes to me, 
 who have ever honoured human existence. Good- 
 bye. Write to me ; I am sure that you will speak 
 of her in the way I wish. I am going to Broglie in 
 eight or ten days. They both came here in the hope 
 of seeing her once more ; they were too late by fif- 
 teen hours. They wanted to take me away with 
 them, but I required this fortnight at home. Write 
 to me at Broglie.' 
 
 On the thirty-first he writes : ' Thank you for 
 writing to me, my dear friend ! your letters are 
 pleasant to me although they cannot diminish my 
 grief I have made ixp my mind to it — that is all I 
 can say. I am beginning to work again, but with 
 great difficulty : if I might do nothing but walk 
 about alone, read my letters over again — in one 
 word, transport my life into the past — it would be 
 endurable to me. But we must live in the present, 
 we must banish even the remembrance which would 
 naturally absorb us. This is the battle I have to 
 wage. I have my boy with me ; he is a satisfactory 
 child in every respect — gentle, affectionate, intelli- 
 gent, and lively. He was a great pleasure to her 
 during the last two years. He was present all 
 
DEATH OF MADAME PAULIKE GUIZOT. 91 
 
 through her last moments, and we often talk of that 
 time. I am not afraid of his dwelling on it ; he has 
 a singular faculty for tm'ning his glrief into a tender 
 feeling which does not disturb his imagination. Her 
 death was so calm, so entirely free from any moral 
 or physical deterioration, that the remembrance of it 
 does not distress the child. He has had no violent 
 fits of grief: she is always present to him ; she is an 
 habitual thought with him ; he is as fond of her as 
 he was when she was here ; he has the highest idea 
 of her value and of the loss she is to me. 
 
 ' This is his condition. You wished me to describe 
 it, and it is what I should have desired. I have 
 seen more passionate and energetic children than he 
 is, but I have never known one more upright, more 
 noble, or more natural. He will return to Paris, 
 towards the middle of September, with my mother 
 and my nieces. I shall go thither myself about the 
 middle of October to put him to college as a day 
 pupil, and to spend a fortnight with him. I shall 
 then come back and pass the rest of the year here. 
 
 ' I have an absolute necessity for quiet work and 
 perfect solitude to enable me to regain possession of 
 my faculties. My mind is like a broken limb, the 
 most perfect rest is requisite for it ; only on this 
 condition can life begin once more to cu'culate in it.' 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 1827-28. 
 
 HIS LECTUKES — HIS SECOND MARRIAGE. 
 
 M. GrUizoT resumed his work with great diligence. 
 The two first volumes of the History of the English 
 BevoluHon appeared in 1827, and in the beginning of 
 1828 he undertook the direction of the Revue Fran- 
 gaise, an important publication, in which the most 
 abstract questions of philosophy and political econ- 
 omy were discussed, without excluding the exciting 
 questions of the day. At the head of the first 
 number, which appeared in January, 1828, was an 
 article by M. Guizot treating of the elections which 
 had taken place in November of the previous year, 
 of M. de Villele's policy, and finishing by announcing, 
 in the last page, the formation of a cabinet by M. de 
 Martignac: 
 
 ' If he understands and accepts the present state 
 of France, he will hasten to put himself in harmony 
 with the majority of which France has just sent the 
 elements to the chamber ; he will himself endeavour 
 to unite, extend, and strengthen it. If he will not, 
 or dare not, or cannot do this, there is nothing 
 
HIS LECTURES. 93 
 
 more to be said ; his accession to power will then be 
 only another reason for directing' all our thoughts, 
 all our efforts, towards the formation of a strong 
 national party. The country has raised its standard, 
 we must hold it on high, and with a firm hand, in 
 order that all may rally round it, and then we must 
 plant it at the foot of the throne. This is all we 
 have to care for.' 
 
 The Ministry was making an effort to return to 
 really Liberal courses. M. Royer-Collard was ap- 
 pointed President of the Chamber, and the title of 
 Conseiller d'Etat was restored to M. Guizot, who at 
 the same time was permitted to resume his lectures, 
 as well as M. Villemain and M. Cousin. 
 
 It was on the ninth of April that the professor, who 
 had not occupied his chair for seven years, saw be- 
 fore him an audience even more numerous, more 
 ardent, and more sympathetic, than the one which 
 had assembled in former days at the College du 
 Plessis* He was much touched by the applause 
 which saluted his entrance. 
 
 ' Forgive me, gentlemen,' he said, ' if your very 
 kind reception has somewhat agitated me. Because 
 1 have returned, it seems as if everything else must 
 come back, that nothing has been changed. There 
 has been a change, however, and a thorough change. 
 Seven years ago, we entered this room anxiously, 
 our minds full of sadness and heaviness, we felt that 
 we were being drawn towards a calamity which we 
 
 * The first theatre in which M. Guizot lectured. 
 
94 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 were vainly endeavouring, bv means of an earnest, 
 quiet, and reserved attitude, to avoid. To-day we all 
 meet, you aswell as myself, with confidence and hope, 
 our minds at peace, and our thoughts free ! . . . 
 There is but one way, gentlemen, to show our grati- 
 tude properly, it is to exhibit, in our meetings and 
 our writings, the same calm reserve that characterised 
 us when we feared every day that they might be dis- 
 solved or suspended. Good fortune is hazardous, 
 delicate, fragile ; hope requires as much forbearance 
 as fear, convalescence exacts almost as much care 
 a.nd prudence as the beginning of an illness. . . . 
 You will exercise this forbearance, gentlemen, I am 
 sure. The same sympathy, the same rapid and inti- 
 mate correspondence of opinion, feeling, and thought, 
 which united us in those days of trial, and which, at 
 any rate, spared us many mistakes, will equally 
 unite us in these fortunate days, and will put us in 
 the way of reaping their fruits. I depend upon this, 
 gentlemen, on your side, and I ask for nothing 
 more.' 
 
 Those who had the good fortune to attend M. 
 Guizot's lectures during the following two years, 
 often related hOw faithfully the audience kept the 
 promise made by the Professor in their name as well 
 as in his own. However great the pushing and 
 crowding at the door, and the difficulty of finding 
 room on the narrow benches, silence and respect 
 were always maintained within. The lectures on 
 ' Civilization in France and in Europe ' were never 
 interrupted by any disturbance, however great the 
 
HIS SECOND MARRIAGE. 95 
 
 political excitement and tumnlt out-of-doors. This 
 was always a gratifying recollection to M. Guizot. 
 
 At the same time happiness was returning to his 
 life. During her illness, and with the secret con- 
 viction of approaching death, Madame Guizot said 
 to Madame de St. Aulaire, with whom she was very 
 intimate, ' If I die, I wish him to be unhappy as little 
 and for as short a time as possible,' — thus showing 
 an unselfishness which is very rare in so passionate 
 a nature, and which contributed perhaps to the ful- 
 filment of her noble wish. 
 
 Madame Guizot had taken a great part in the 
 education of her niece. Mademoiselle Elisa Dillon ; 
 she liked to be nursed by her during the melancholy 
 journey to Plombieres, and frequently and with 
 pleasure drew attention to the resemblance between 
 their characters. 
 
 M. Guizot wrote in his notes : ' Elisa was a young 
 Pauline, devoted and tender as Pauline was to her 
 dying day.' 
 
 After her aunt's death Mademoiselle Dillon spent 
 a month at Broglie, and when she had returned to 
 Paris M. Guizot wrote to her from Broglie of the 
 lost one whom they both had loved so well — 
 
 'I do not thank you for yoixr attentions to my 
 mother, my dear Elisa, but I wish you to know how 
 much I am touched by them ; yoii understand how 
 to please her — a little time devoted to her, some 
 attention to her friends, this is the best way, and I 
 am sure that you have succeeded in it. That you 
 should do so is essential to the calm of our home, 
 
26 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 and I do not know what would become of me with- 
 out repose. It is repose that I want above all things 
 at present, because it is only in repose that I am able 
 to fill my mind exclusively with her whom I find 
 there, and there only. What I should chiefly dislike 
 in discord would be the distraction of my thoughts. 
 There are now only two conditions endurable for 
 me — either great and important political action, or 
 to detach myself entirely from externals and to live 
 within myself; the former may some day be again 
 possible for me, and I hope that it will ; I can obtain 
 the latter already, and I have obtained it ; do not be 
 uneasy about my health — all that is of no conse- 
 quence — I am much better than I have any right to 
 be. I have begun going out again, I have taken 
 some long, solitary rambles. I seek out the walks 
 which she liked, particularly those we took together ; 
 I want to retrace them all, even the tiniest paths, 
 and to go over again every step. It is a great 
 blessing that Providence allows us to retain such 
 lively and lasting impressions : Grod knows that when 
 I walked in these woods with her it never once 
 entered my mind that I should return to them alone, 
 I never made the slightest efi"ort to imprint on my 
 memory the scenes we passed through. Well, I re- 
 member them so well that when I try to find a path, 
 I am vexed, I am ill at ease, until I discover the 
 right one. I cannot tell in what respect the path I 
 took with her differed from the one I am in, but I 
 am sure it is not the right one ; and when at last 
 I find the right one, all at once my recollections 
 
HIS SECOKD MARRIAGE. 97 
 
 rush back and become clearer and clearer — I re- 
 member everything — the position of the trees, the 
 slope of the ground, the points of view, the stones 
 — every object that impressed me while it impressed 
 her — everything associated with her presence, with- 
 out my being aware of it at the time, produced on 
 me an impression which awakes suddenly, like a 
 flash of lightning. My life is in the past ; happily 
 it lives in me more than I can tell, and every day 
 more and more — every day I remember, I fix the 
 date and the place of some conversation, some trifling 
 event — a word, a visit, a pleasure we enjoyed to- 
 gether — some detail of our life for fifteen years. I 
 shall recover every bit of it, I hope. It is only in 
 this way that I can once more enjoy what made my 
 happiness in the past.' 
 
 Amidst these cherished memories, this deep sad- 
 ness and this cruel void, the idea, the influence, and 
 the character of Mademoiselle Dillon gradually 
 made themselves felt. She was twenty-four years 
 old; her rare culture, her developed intelligence, 
 and the important duties which had devolved upon 
 her for so many years, had precociously matured her 
 cliaracter ; her position in life appeared to be settled : 
 she was strong, calm, and' entirely occupied in sup- 
 porting with her energy all around her ; her mind, 
 liowever, was not wholly satisfied. On the thir- 
 teenth of July, 1827, she wrote to her sister: — 
 
 ' You tell me, dear, that I seem to have given up 
 the idea of marrying, and that you are very sorry 
 for it. You are wrong. I am persuaded, more than 
 
 7 
 
98 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PEIVATE LIFE. 
 
 any one, that real happiness — if happiness belongs 
 to this world — is to be found only in marriage, and 
 I long for it, I should enjoy it, more ardently than I 
 can ever tell, even to you. But I will not sacrifice 
 one iota of tlie conditions which seem to me neces- 
 sary for securing it to my desire for enjoying it ; 
 my moderate fortune, my determination not to leaA'e 
 my father, and many other reasons, narrow the circle 
 in which I might choose. It is, therefore, possible 
 that I may never marry, and I should certainly much 
 prefer a single life to an imperfect marriage. 
 
 ' I should require a very great many things to 
 make up for the loss of my liberty — for giving up 
 my tastes and interrupting my studies, to make me 
 forget that I no longer belonged to myself, and that 
 I ought to find my happiness in subordination, and 
 in absorption into another existence. Touch my 
 heart, obtain my love, admiration and respect, and I 
 should become the most docile of slaves ; but I am 
 determined that I will not give myself away for less. 
 I can contemplate calmly a whole life passed as mine 
 is now. All I want is to preserve the objects of my 
 love, the ties which unite me to the past, which I 
 loved so well. If I were sure of keeping you always 
 with me — you who are the darling of my heart — I 
 should fear nothing in the future, but I renounce 
 this hope, I wish you above all things to marry ; 
 your character requires it. I cannot, therefore de- 
 pend upon you. I must, however, have some one to 
 devote myself to ; some one that my mother loved, 
 and that I may cherish for the love of her. In my 
 
HIS SECOND MARRIAGE. 99 
 
 dreams of a life of celibacy I devote my active life to 
 my excellent father : it is his old age that I shall 
 make beautiful, it is his health and his enjoyment 
 that I shall take care of when he will no longer 
 suffice to himself. This is all, dear, that I have to 
 say. I do not renounce marriage, but I do not make 
 it the sine qua non of my destiny. If I find the 
 husband I want, well then I shall enjoy paradise 
 ■upon earth — love in marriage : if not, with you and 
 my father and Maurice, with my friends, my books 
 and my poor people, I shall spend an agreeable, and, 
 I hope, in some respects a useful life ! ' 
 
 The day came when this happiness suddenly burst 
 upon the life of Mademoiselle Dillon and re-entered 
 that of M. Guizot. No one was better acquainted than 
 he was with the mind that he had seen formed ; the 
 little faults of temper which he used to find in her 
 disappeared on the approach of happiness. 'Elisa is 
 no longer conceited,' said the Duchesse de Broglie, 
 ' for all her love is satisfied.' Her influence sweet- 
 ened the whole family circle, she brought into it so 
 much good temper, charm, and easy joyous activity; 
 she became quite naturally a daughter to M. Guizot's 
 mother, and a mother to his son. 
 
 'FranQois' behaviour to me is charming,' she 
 wrote to her sister on the twenty-third of August, 
 1828; 'he looks after me in the kindest manner; he 
 has taken my relation to his father completely in the 
 right way; I was afraid that he might find it difficult 
 to accustom himself to the deference M. Guizot shows 
 me, to my freedom with him, and that my familiar 
 
100 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 tone might scandalize him as wanting in respect; not 
 at all — it seems to him quite natural, and this is a 
 great comfort to us. I shall try all I can to make all 
 who loved my aunt, love me also. Do I not owe 
 this to her, and especially to him, to whom I owe 
 everything ? But everything will be, everything is, 
 easy for me ; I do not see one discontented face, I 
 am surrounded with affection. May God protect 
 me, for I am too happy ! ' 
 
 True happiness is a rare and salutary spectacle, 
 and it was afforded by Madame Elisa Guizot to all 
 who approached her as long as God permitted her 
 to live. 
 
 She was married on the eighth of November, 1828. 
 Even her best friends can hardly call to mind or 
 separate the details of her individual life, it was 
 henceforth so entirely absorbed in that of her hus- 
 band, so devoted to his interests, his affairs, and his 
 occupations. She worked for him, she observed for 
 him, she read and talked only for him. The strength 
 and independence of her mind remained, however, 
 always the same ; she reflected much, and her intel- 
 ligence grew and developed day by day. 
 
 In her early youth, under the influence of a 
 somewhat narrow religious teaching, she had suf- 
 fered from many doubts and scruples, from which 
 she escaped by means of the philosophical atmos- 
 phere around her ; she now embraced the wide and 
 simple faith which suited her intelligence and her 
 heart. ' I can imagine two ways of being earnestly 
 and sincerely religious,' she writes to her sister: 'one, 
 
MADAME GUIZOT, NEE ELIZA DILLON. 
 
HIS SECOND MAEKIAGE. 101 
 
 the product chiefly of our reasoning faculties, founds 
 itself on the demonstration of the existence of God, 
 arrived at by the contemplation of the order of the 
 world and the necessity for a first cause ; it pro- 
 claims the immortahty of the soul as a necessary 
 consequence of our moral nature, and counts upon 
 final remuneration, because the recompense for good 
 and evil, which ouglit to be the law by right, does 
 not reign, in fact, in this world, and the right must 
 triumph in the end. 
 
 ' One may also become religious from an ardent 
 love, which nothing in this world can satisfy ; from 
 an instinctive purity which revolts from the sight of 
 evil and the mixture of good and bad here below : 
 from the aching of the heart, which seeks some cer- 
 tain satisfaction in another world for the vague and 
 sublime presentiments which lead us to the infinite. 
 Intelligence and feeling are also sources of religion. 
 I think, dear Pauline, that neither of these ways 
 alone is the good one, that God is not satisfied with 
 the homage of our heart or our reason alone, that 
 only when we offer to Him an understanding en- 
 lightened by cultivation and a soul filled with holy 
 love do we fulfil His just claims. 
 
 ' Nevertheless, dearest, we must own that both 
 these ways of being religious exist apart, and that 
 they have made great men and martyrs. Our nature 
 is so incomplete that a very feeble dose of truth may 
 be enough for it, but it must have this dose, it must 
 grasp it heartily and receive it in all sincerity. How, 
 then, could you imagine that I could like the book 
 
102 MONSIEUE GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 on whose subjects I have written to you at such 
 length? I find in M. Benjamin Constant neither 
 intellectual nor spiritual purity. He has never 
 troubled himself about intellectual belief; he has 
 not once thought of af&rming that he believes in 
 God ; he expresses the utmost impiety in his argu- 
 ments. He mocks at unbelievers, but why? Be- 
 cause they speak ill of religion, not because they 
 are irreligious. As for religious feeling, he finds it 
 everywhere, and gives out none of it himself; he 
 describes its errors with complacency and its satis- 
 factions with indifference ; he resembles a dry, worn- 
 out cynic, who tries to get up a little excitement to 
 pass away the time. I can allow a catechism to be 
 dull, and a book of religious ecstasy to be exagger- 
 ated ; but to write on religion and be dull and 
 exaggerated at the same time is too much, and I 
 cannot stand it.' 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 1828-30. 
 
 RENEWED HAPPINESS HE EE-ENTEES PUBLIC LIFE. 
 
 M. GuizoT'swork at this time required the assistance 
 of his wife, to whom it gave a large share in his 
 intellectual activity. She waded through the cor- 
 respondence which the editing of the Eevue Frangaise 
 involved; she read the books which were to be 
 reviewed, and often wrote notices of them with a 
 tact and elegance which added greatly to the lite- 
 rary value of the review ; she also put her solid 
 historical knowledge at her husband's service in the 
 preparation of his lectures. While studying and 
 writing with equal assiduity, he was observing the 
 state of the public mind under the ministry of M. de 
 Polignac — at that time on the eve of the blunders 
 which could not fail to occasion fresh disturbances. 
 
 M. Guizot's friends, like himself, had long stood 
 apart from the Government, but they continued to 
 take the liveliest interest in politics, although they 
 devoted themselves to intellectual pursuits. He 
 assisted them with sympathy and advice ; he wrote 
 from Agen to M. Dumon : — 
 
104 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 ' I congratulate you on your establishment. Do- 
 mestic happiness and a country place in which you 
 may strike root, are well worth the noise of Paris, 
 and even the pleasant society which you lose. If 
 only you do not let yourself be paralyzed by the 
 want of intellectual animation about you, I advise 
 you to regret nothing. We have nothing to do but 
 to wait ; you ought to acquire a settled position, lay 
 the foundation for future influence and for your can- 
 didature at the next elections, and be patient, while 
 you enjoy your happiness. If we could establish a 
 man like you in every department, and in an equally 
 good position, we should do more for the future than 
 by all our fine speeches. Come and see us some- 
 times, however, and write to us ; we must disperse, 
 but not separate ; the net must be spread out, but 
 the stitches nmst always hold together. 
 
 ' I am delighted that you think of taking up his- 
 tory; you are right, I think, in not choosing a 
 merely literary subject; the spirit which animates 
 literature at present is still so vague and so feeble 
 that it would be difficult for you, from your retreat, 
 to follow its complicated vicissitudes. History is 
 more definite, and the new method of studying it 
 more settled. The public are certainly acquiring a 
 taste for it; if you carry out your plan, you may 
 expect much more than a provincial success. You 
 will find my one great difficulty — to limit your 
 subject. 
 
 * Aquitaine has gone through so many dislocations 
 and metamorphoses that its history will draw you in 
 
RENEWED HAPPINESS. 105 
 
 turn into the histories of all sorts of countries ; Spain, 
 England, &c. You will have the same fate as M. de 
 Barante in his History of the Dukes of Bwrgundy ; 
 yours will be even worse, for Aquitaine has never 
 been so settled as Burgundy, nor have its masters 
 ever xbeen so distinguished as the Valois Dukes of 
 Burgundy. You will have to struggle with this 
 difficulty. I advise you to keep your history as 
 much as possible connected with that of France, and 
 to leave on one side, or give only a passing notice, 
 to those portions of Aqtiitaine which have belonged, 
 for instance, to Spain. As to the information you 
 ask for, open the Bibliotheque Historique de la France, 
 by the P6re Le Long ; you will find in it, especially 
 in the third volume in the article on Guyenne, an 
 almost complete list of all the public documents. 
 Auteserve's two works, Berum Aquitanicarum libri 
 decern — the five former on ancient Aquitaine, the 
 five latter on Aquitaine from the time of Clovis to 
 1137 — are capital books. They were printed at 
 Toulouse, in quarto, in 1648 and 1657. The History 
 of Languedoc, by the Benedictines ; and that of 
 Beam, by Du Marca, are the two best that have 
 been written of all the frontier provinces, and will 
 be of great service to you. From the end of the 
 twelfth century, look closely at the history of the 
 kings of England who possessed Aquitaine ; all the 
 French historians have neglected this. If you treat 
 at any length of Aquitaine before the invasions of 
 the Groths and the Franks, and you wish, for exam- 
 ple, to discover the origin of its first inhabitants, 
 
106 MONSIEUE GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 Humboldt's new work on the Basques will be neces- 
 sary. There is reason for thinking that the Basques 
 are a remnant of the Iberians, the ancient inhabi- 
 tants of Spain who occupied Aquitaine. For the 
 rest, I put myself at your disposal for any informa- 
 tion I may be able to give you ; do not be shy in 
 asking, I am continually giving up my time to people 
 for whom I care infinitely less than I do for you, and 
 I shall be delighted to be of use to you in any way. 
 If you will take my advice, you will pay much 
 attention to the feudal times, as they speak more to 
 the imagination of the public than any other. For a 
 long while those times were only known by the well- 
 merited aversion that they inspired ; now, whatever 
 people may say, they have ceased to be objects of 
 fear, and are becoming objects of interest. When 
 you have thoroughly made up your mind, and are 
 at work, send me, if you like, some definite ques- 
 tions ; I will try to help you.' 
 
 M. Guizot wrote to M. de Barante on the twenty- 
 first of September, 1829, six weeks after the forma- 
 tion of M. de Polignac's ministry: — 
 
 * My dear friend, you see how they have begun, 
 I have not much to tell you. Yesterday morning, 
 M. de la Bourdonnaye was asked what he intended 
 to do. "I know nothing, I want nothing, I do noth- 
 ing," is his reply. This is, in fact, their whole pol- 
 icy. If the Chamber were to meet to-morrow, 
 perhaps they would resign to-day; perhaps they 
 would make a coup d^etat; both are possible, and 
 
r. /fo/v//ir. 
 
 CHATEAUBRIAND. 
 
RENEWED HAPPINESS. 107 
 
 we, the public, believe sometimes the one, some- 
 times the other: on the whole, the chief feature is 
 their impotence, they feel it, and we may hope that 
 this will bring about the end. They are over- 
 whelmed with refusals and resignations. I am, there- 
 fore, very hopeful, and if the ending be good it will 
 be very good, for we shall have an unanswerable 
 reason for everything that ought to be done. Nev- 
 ertheless, I find it hard to believe that in that event 
 they will allow themselves to fall without offering 
 any resistance, their accession to power has shown 
 that everything is possible — the powerful influence 
 which raised them may support them through thick 
 and thin. We shall see ; but at any rate, the crisis 
 will decide a great many things. It would come 
 much more quickly if the Journal des JDebats wei*e 
 acquitted, and everything seems to indicate that it 
 will be in the " Cour Boyale." The Cour de premiere 
 instance is less certain : they have in it a cruel enemy 
 who every day does them more harm. 
 
 * The resignation of M. de Chateaubriand is fully 
 expected. Victor* wrote to me before all this was 
 known, that his professions are excellent, that he 
 speaks with the utmost scorn of M. de Polignac's 
 attempt, and will belong only to a Liberal ministry. 
 The friends of M. de Mortemart say that when he 
 has received two or three disagreeable dispatches, 
 which will render his position unpleasant, he will 
 probably retire also. The King, for some unknown 
 
 * The Due de Broglie. — Te. 
 
108 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 reason, speaks of M. de Martignac with peculiar bit- 
 terness. Ravez is certainly to be made a peer. M. 
 de Polignac and M. de Cbabrol continue to indulge 
 in the hope of a majority. " We have already 180 
 votes," says Chabrol, "and we gain more every 
 day." La Bourdonnaye is more sensible, and has 
 fewer illusions. Whatever happens you may be 
 sure that next spring will not find us where we now 
 are, we shall either have won the day or be deliber- 
 ating how to pay the costs. 
 
 ' All this may distract your attention from the 
 Parlement de Paris* Go on working, however, it 
 will always be so much done. You are quite right 
 in thinking that placitum is of Latin derivation. 
 The word is employed in Roman jurisprudence, and 
 signifies contract, convention. Is it not singular that 
 it, as well as the word convention, should have served 
 for both a contract and an assembly? The latter 
 meaning was given to it after the invasion, but its 
 history is exactly similar to that of the word conven- 
 tion, with the exception that the first sense of the 
 word placitum was a contract, whilst the first sense 
 of convention was an assembly ; the one began by 
 designating a meeting of persons, and the other a 
 union of opinions ; but in both cases the meanings 
 have been interchanged. 
 
 ' Mallum, mahl, is an ancient Grerman word, and 
 its history is the same, for it also has signified a con- 
 tract and an assembly, and the trace of this double 
 
 * A work by M. de Barante. 
 
EENEWED HAPPIKESS. 109 
 
 meaning is still found in German, on the one band, 
 in the words Gemahl and Vermiihlen, which express a 
 marriage-contract, and in the other in Mahlseit, a 
 meal-time, or an assembly for taking a meal. As to 
 whether the words mallwm and plaeitum were syn- 
 onymous, I am a little uncertain ; I think, however, 
 that mallum was used to designate an assembly of 
 free men in general, without any regard to the busi- 
 ness in hand, while placitum indicated rather a judi- 
 cial assembly. Its metamorphosis into the word 
 plead, seems to confirm this supposition. After all, 
 the difference in the meaning of these two words 
 chiefly results from the difference of date. Mahl be- 
 longs to the time when everything was transacted in 
 assemblies of freemen ; placitum to that in which only 
 legal cases were judged in these assemblies ; many 
 restrictions, however, must be observed in making 
 this distinction. 
 
 ' As to the word parliamentum, it certainly was not 
 used before the beginning of the twelfth century. It 
 is, without doubt, neither purely German nor purely 
 Latin ; it is Eoman, and dates from the time when 
 the new languages began to make their appearance 
 either in the south or in the north of Gaul. It is 
 found both in the south and in the north, in Prov- 
 ence and in Normandy. What is its origin 1 I am 
 not at all sure. All this group of words, parole, 
 parler, parlement, are of doubtful origin. I do not 
 believe much in Celtic or Gaelic derivations, espe- 
 cially for words in general daily use, which we meet 
 for the first time in the twelfth century. I have 
 
110 MONSIEUE GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 often looked for the etymology of Parliamentum, 
 but without success. I will not send you all the 
 hypotheses that I have made by post, they would be 
 too long ; but you may be satisfied that the word 
 was first used in modern language. 
 
 ' Grood bye ; my wife is well, and my daughter 
 likewise, it was the most normal confinement that 
 ever was seen, and the child prospers as well as 
 possible. My son succeeded pretty well in his ex- 
 amination, he is nominated for the public examina- 
 tion, and he has obtained two first prizes and four 
 accessits. He is not satisfied, and I am very glad 
 that he is not ; he wants to gain prizes at the public 
 examination. Adieu! this is a volume. Ever yours. 
 When will you send me an article for the Bevue f ' 
 
 Active and personal political life was opening for 
 M. Guizot, while he was discussing the meaning of 
 the word Parliament. Hitherto he had been kept out 
 of the Chamber by his youth, but towards the end 
 of the year 1827, he was nominated by the imited 
 arrondissements of Pont I'Eveque and Lisieux, in the 
 room of M. de Vauquelin, the celebrated chemist, 
 who died on the fifteenth of October. The election 
 took place on the twentj^-third of January, 1830, and 
 M. Guizot was chosen by a large majority. He had 
 never visited his constituency, and he owed to his 
 reputation alone the political supporters who soon 
 became his faithful and devoted friends. M. Guizot's 
 first speech was in support of the address of the 
 221, which was attacked by M. Berry er, in a maiden 
 speech. 
 
HE EE-ENTEES PUBLIC LIFE. Ill 
 
 All thoughtful and earnest men were profoundly- 
 anxious and distressed. M. Guizot was continuing 
 his lectures, which he made studiously and exclu- 
 sively abstract. He succeeded in maintaining an 
 external calm in his audience, but their real agita- 
 tion did not diminish. When the king announced, 
 first the prorogation (on the nineteenth of March, 
 1830), and next, the dissolution of the Chamber (on 
 the sixteenth of May, 1830), M. Guizot, whose re- 
 election for Calvados was safe, went to Nimes, to 
 lend his personal assistance, which seemed likely to 
 be of use, to his friends. 
 
 It was the first time that he had quitted his wife ; 
 she found it difficult to reconcile herself to the sep- 
 aration, on the fifteenth of June she says in a letter 
 to her sister : 
 
 ' I write to you with a sick heart, my Pauline ; 
 my husband went away this morning, and I have to 
 endure twenty-eight or twenty-seven days of sepa- 
 ration ! It is very long and very hard to bear. I 
 cannot tell you what I have gone through during the 
 last few days ; I could not look at him without my 
 eyes filling with tears, and I hated time for passing 
 so quickly on towards the moment for our separation. 
 He left me this morning, at eight o'clock, and I think 
 I am really better since he went ; for when the first 
 anguish was over I became calmer, and I have begun 
 dwelling upon his return. For the last three months 
 I do not believe that I have passed a single hour 
 without the idea of this day pressing on my heart ; 
 now that it has come I recur to the one which will 
 
112 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 restore to me my husband, not to leave us again, I 
 hope, except for a few days at a time. If only you 
 were here, my dear sister. You are the only creature 
 under the sun to whom I would allow a glimpse of 
 what is passing in my heart ; in writing one can tell 
 so little. I shall take my little girl into my room 
 to-night, I am looking forward to this with great 
 pleasure — if I could speak of pleasure just now. , I 
 am making some alterations in the furniture of the 
 drawing-room, so I have established myself in M. 
 Guizot's study ; he wished me to do so, and I think 
 I shall like it better than the loneliness of the other 
 room. I remember that when you left us several 
 days passed before I could make up my mind to 
 enter your room, I did so at last only by chance, it 
 gave me so much pain to see it without you in it. 
 To pass the time I intend to work ; I have an article 
 on Uhland's poetry, to appear in the next number of 
 the Revue. I shall write my notes,* and then I shall 
 take up the Gauls again, and describe Caesar's war. 
 Whenever it is fine in the evening I shall walk out 
 with Henriette, in the morning I shall go out only 
 to visit my Refuge and my poor people. This will 
 be my life.' 
 
 Absence was very painful to Madame Guizot, 
 when anxiety was added to it it seemed almost more 
 than she could bear. Her husband wrote to her 
 from Nimes, on the twenty-sixth of June, 1830. 
 ' Set your mind at rest ; if there were any danger 
 
 * Madame Elisa Guizot had begun a History of France for Children. 
 

 ";-?B'i\'V 
 
 • f-.., 
 
 CASIMIR PERIER. 
 
HE EE-ENTEES PUBLIC LIFE. 113 
 
 in my political life, I should wish you to be with 
 me, I would send for you if you were not with me 
 already. We are united for better and for worse. 
 You would suffer a thousand times more at a distance 
 than near me ; we have those to whom we can trust 
 our children ; our duty to them, the care of their 
 safety could alone oblige us to be separated ; and 
 this precious care would be taken, if necessary, by 
 others who deserve our unlimited confidence. Do 
 not, therefore, be in the least uneasy, my Elisa, when 
 the storm breaks out we shall be united, we will 
 fight with it or bear it together. Will it come soon ! 
 I do not think so. The struggle is severe, more 
 severe than it appears to those at a distance, the two 
 parties are deeply engaged, and hour by hour be- 
 come so more and more. The Government is pos- 
 sessed by a fever of selfishness and stupidity ; the 
 Opposition is fighting passionately, though with 
 much self-restraint, against the difiiculties and anxi- 
 eties of a position equally embarrassing from a legal 
 and a moral point of view. The knowledge that it 
 has the law on its side gives it power and courage to 
 continue the battle, without inspiring it with any 
 certainty of success ; for in almost every direction 
 the most important guarantee is wanting, and after 
 sustaining a long and valiant struggle we run the 
 risk of finding ourselves suddenly disarmed and 
 powerless. There is the same anxiety and incon- 
 gruity in the moral situation; the Opposition de- 
 spises the Grovernment, and yet has to treat it as its 
 superior ; the officials are contemptible, and yet are 
 
 8 
 
114 MOXSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 set up on higli ; the remembrance of imperial power 
 and grandeur still serves them for a pedestal ; they 
 are looked at without respect, dirt is thrown at 
 them, and they richly deserve it ; but it is from be- 
 low, with anger and terror combined, that these 
 insults are aimed at them. Here are, undoubtedly, 
 many of the elements of a disturbance, perhaps even 
 of a crisis ; but as soon as the explosion seems at 
 hand, or even possible, all draw back, all fear it, no 
 one hopes to derive from it the satisfaction of any 
 strong desire or ardent hope. In reality it is only 
 from order and peace that any one nowadays ex- 
 pects any good; only regular means are trusted, 
 and this is the real guarantee for the future, a guar- 
 antee which, for a long time, unless some extraordi- 
 nary circumstances intervene, will bring the river 
 back into its bed, at the very moment when it seems 
 most likely to break away from its course.' 
 
 These extraordinary circumstances were prepar- 
 ing, and were destined, to precipitate the country 
 into courses, on which for several months it had 
 been anxiously gazing, without the slightest desire 
 to plunge into them. The postponement of the 
 elections put off M. Gruizot's return. He solaced 
 himself, in a degree, by conversing with his wife 
 when absent, just as he did when present, carried 
 away by the desire for intimate communion and 
 lavish expression of thought and feeling, which he 
 reserved for a very few, but which to those few was 
 a constant source of intense happiness. 
 
 ' I talk about the elections ; I go on as if we were 
 
HE RE-ENTERS PUBLIC LIFE. 115 
 
 together; then, I am not obliged to economise my 
 time ; I have enough to spend with you, I may talk 
 of indifferent things, I can tell you, whenever I like, 
 those which are deeply seated in my heart. But 
 now, when I am far from you, and can hardly give 
 you an hour a-day, I ought to speak of nothing but 
 of you and me, of our happiness and our life. In- 
 deed, this is my instinct, and it almost always costs 
 me an effort to tell you a word of anything else. 
 You must not think, dearest, that I have a less pro- 
 found, less steadfast conviction of our happiness than 
 you have ; although I feel keenly our annoyances, 
 although I call them deductions from the happiness 
 of our lives, my heart is, nevertheless, filled with 
 joy and gratitude. But I tell you everything, I pour 
 out to you all my thoughts ; and when they are 
 written from a distance of 200 leagues, and reach 
 you after an interval of four days, they seem to you 
 to occupy me much more exclusively and contin- 
 ually than they really do. My Elisa, no one, not 
 even you, has a firmer faith than I have in Provi- 
 dence — is more sincerely submissive than I am to 
 His Will — but when my intellectual transformation 
 took place, when my opinions became settled, I 
 turned my thoughts chiefly towards the order of the 
 Universe, the destiny of man, the course, the laws, 
 and the aim of his development. It was while con- 
 sidering these subjects that the conviction of the 
 Divine intervention flashed upon me, and I recog- 
 nised, clearly and irresistibly, the Supreme Mind 
 and Will. They manifest themselves to me, in the 
 
116 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 history of the world, as clearly as in the movements 
 of the stars. God shows himself to me, in the laws 
 which regulate human progress, as evidently — much 
 more evidently, as I think — than in those which 
 direct the rising and setting of the sun. In short, 
 to tell you all my thoughts, the history of humanity 
 has for me blanks — large blanks — but no mys- 
 teries. There is much that I cannot see, but nothing 
 that I do not believe. Millions of facts are unknown 
 to me, but nothing ever startles me ; my eyes are 
 too weak to see everything, but they know that 
 there is daylight everywhere. This is the chief 
 foundation of my faith. It is by dwelling on the 
 spectacle aiforded by the human race, its present 
 life, and ultimate destiny, that I have acquired an 
 entire certainty, a perfect confidence in the wisdom, 
 the goodness, and the persistent action of Provi- 
 dence. His action on each one of us in particular. 
 His motives in the fate of individuals, are much less 
 plain to me. I do not doubt, but I do not see as 
 clearly : at every step I meet some mystery. I know 
 that one occasionally sees the reasons and the moral 
 results of the trials God inflicts on individuals, and 
 that in other cases one perceives that He has tem- 
 pered the wind to the shorn lamb. But I also meet 
 with opposite and equally uncontrovertible instances : 
 trials where the sufferer has succumbed morally, and 
 with no apparently good result — miseries which are 
 beyond all power of endurance. 
 
 ' I repeat, dearest, when I see these things I do 
 not doubt, I do not murmur; but I cannot under- 
 
HE RE-ENTERS PUBLIC LIFE. 117 
 
 stand, I cannot see, I fall back into mystery — ten-i- 
 ble mystery. My belief in God does not fail me ; 
 but it is not from such spectacles that I derive it ; 
 elsewhere — in contemplating the general order of 
 the Universe, I find the support which enables my 
 faith to stand fast : but it would not stand fast with- 
 out this support. In fact, when I think of the de- 
 signs of Providence with regard to each individual, 
 I bow before them with humility, for I feel I am in 
 the dark. When it is a question of the designs of 
 God with regard to the human race, I contemplate 
 and I adore, for light pours in upon me from every 
 direction.' 
 
 In Paris Madame Elisa Guizot was hard at work, 
 she was taking care of her great school-boy Franqois, 
 and of her little daughter Henriette ; she devoted a 
 great deal of time to her mother-in-law, and yet did 
 not neglect politics. She writes on the fifteenth of 
 July : — 
 
 * My head-ache is nearly gone. After writing to 
 you I was able to work ; I am re- writing my chapter 
 on the state of Gaul, and I shall have to write it a 
 third time, but it is an important bit, — I shall spare 
 no trouble over it. I think that I shall be obliged 
 to retouch the chapter on the Gallic wars, in which 
 are introduced several traits of character of the 
 Gauls ; this was also your impression — we will look 
 at this together when you have time. I have 
 Fleury's Ecclesiastical History, and I am going to 
 read it. I shall also study Neander. As I have to 
 treat of the establishment of Christianity among the 
 
118 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 Gauls, I shall be glad to have read a learned work 
 on the first centuries of the Church. I shall not put 
 any of this learning into my book, but it will influ- 
 ence it, and perhaps I shall find some interesting 
 and curious details. Besides, when I have studied 
 these two works I shall turn them to account in 
 another way, I shall write for the Mevue an article 
 on Neander's History, comparing it with Fleury's. 
 Taken in this way the subject will excite more gen- 
 eral interest ; when the article is written we will put 
 it in your portfolio to use when the opportunity pre- 
 sents itself; the article may wait, the daily papers 
 and the Bevue de Paris will not forestall it. 
 
 'I am going to Mousseaux, but I shall take no 
 books; Pauline (Madame de Remusat) goes with me; 
 she sent her nurse to propose this to me ; my morn- 
 ing will be unproductive, and thanks to you and to 
 eiglit poor people whom I saw this morning, I shall 
 have done nothing to-day but write to you and cor- 
 rect the first proofs of Une Famille — this will really 
 be a very pretty edition, I am delighted with it. 
 
 ' Your mother and I went yesterday to the Tui- 
 leries Gardens, and we talked a great deal about her 
 sorrow, of the effect it produced on her, of her fidelity 
 to your father's opinions, of your education. Your 
 poor mother burst into tears : she said, " My gi-ief is 
 only a matter of history to my children, they were 
 too young to feel it ; for twenty years I spent every 
 night sitting on my bed, bathed in tears ; I con- 
 trolled myself in order not to sadden them ; your 
 husband had an extraordinary instinctive tenderness, 
 
HE RE-ENTEES PUBLIC LIFE. 119 
 
 he saw my sorrow and the struggle it cost me to 
 live — without my children I could not have existed 
 — but I had the conviction of a double task laid 
 upon me ; my poor darling had trusted me, and I 
 may say that I fulfilled all his wishes. I brought 
 up my children entirely myself, I spared myself 
 neither in mind nor in body ; the only thing which 
 I cannot correct in myself is my tendency to exact 
 too much from them, but I think that Grod will for- 
 give me this fault ! '' Dearest, my eyes filled with 
 tears while I listened to her. She told me she had 
 lived three lives : a somewhat careless youth, eight 
 years of happiness, and all the rest sorrow ; she has 
 passed thirty-five years in tears, and she has never 
 found a heart that sympathised entirely with her 
 own. I love her and she loves me better and better 
 every day ; I think that we shall agree thoroughly 
 on Henriette's education. 
 
 ' I have been speaking with M. de Guizard about 
 the Revue Dramatique ; he is inclined to give M. 
 F^lix the musical part and take all the rest on him- 
 self, making it into one article. It seems to me that 
 this would answer very well, he would do it admi- 
 rably, and in the tone and spirit of the Revue. I 
 shall see M. de Langsdorfi"; he will do only what he 
 likes, but I think he would be charmed to write in 
 the Revue. 
 
 'It is said that M. de Peyronnet has spoken to 
 some of the members of the Centres* and that the 
 
 * See p. 69. — Tr. 
 
120 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 king found it out. At the Council, on Sunday, M. de 
 Peyronnet spoke of the elections and their impor- 
 tance ; he uttered the words moderation and legality ! 
 The king became angry, and told him testily that he 
 had not expected advice of that sort from him, and 
 also that there was no use in trying to recompose 
 the Ministry ; that he knew that some members of 
 Council thought of it, but that they might save them- 
 selves the trouble, and that if he thought it advisable 
 to do so he would do it himself, and according to his 
 own wishes. I obtained this information from the 
 Globe. M. Cotte came to see me yesterday, but I had 
 gone out with your mother ; I am sorry, for the 
 Temps seems to be well informed. For the last three 
 or four days people have begun again to talk of 
 coups d^etat ; the Univers has once more become 
 violent ; the Quotidienne talks of nothing but good 
 laws to be brought forward. These two newspapers 
 seem to represent the different opinions of MM. de 
 Polignac and de Peyronnet. Have you read M. 
 Berryer's speech ? It is entirely in favour of legal 
 measures; he talks of the institutions established 
 by the Charter. 
 
 ' Grood-bye, dearest. What a letter ! My heart 
 feels light when I think that half the time of our 
 separation is over ; but how long it has been, how 
 many days of our happiness lost ! ' 
 
 The secret of the hesitations as well as of the 
 resolutions of Charles X. had been well kept ; those 
 who were best informed were ignorant of the immi- 
 nence of the danger which they had so long dreaded. 
 
e /jui 
 
 JjH^.l'i-.—l 
 
 CHARLES X. 
 
HE EE-ENTEES PUBLIC LIFE. 121 
 
 ' I left Nimes on the twenty-tliird of July, 1830, 
 satisfied with the elections in which I had taken 
 part, with the state of feeling I had found, and en- 
 tirely occupied with the thought of how it was nec- 
 essary to proceed in order to obtain for the decided, 
 but at the same time moderate and honestly ex- 
 pressed, wishes of the country, a predominant influ- 
 ence in the Chambers, and a favourable reception 
 from the king. It was only on the twenty-sixth, 
 while passing through Pouilly, that I obtained from 
 the guard of the mail the first intelligence of the 
 decrees.* I reached Paris on the twenty-seventh, 
 at five in the morning, and at eleven M. Casimir 
 P^rier invited me to his house, where a meeting of 
 several of our colleagues was appointed. 
 
 * The struggle had scarcely begun and already 
 the entire establishment of the Restoration — persons 
 and institutes — was in visible and urgent danger. A 
 few hours before, and within a short distance of 
 Paris, the decrees were unknown to me ; and by the 
 side of legal opposition, I saw, on my arrival, revo- 
 lutionary and unchained insurrection. The journals, 
 the courts of justice, the secret societies, the assem- 
 blies of peers and deputies, the National Guard, the 
 citizens and the populace, the bankers and the 
 labouring classes, the drawing-rooms and the streets, 
 every regulated or unlicensed element of society, 
 
 * The three celebrated Ordonnances of Charles X. which occa- 
 sioned the Eevolution of 1830. The first was to suspend the 
 liberty of the press, the second to dissolve the Parliament, the 
 third to set aside the Charter. — Te. 
 
122 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 either yielded to or pushed forward the general 
 movement. On the first day, tlie cry was, Long live 
 the Charter ! Down with the Ministers ! On the 
 second, Up with Liberty ! Down tvith the Bourbons ! 
 Long live the Republic ! Long live Napoleon the 
 Second! The decrees of the preceding eve had been 
 seized on as the signal for exploding all the irrita- 
 tions, hopes, projects, and political desires accumu- 
 lated during sixteen years.' * 
 
 * From the English traiislatiou of M. Guizot's Memoirs, vol. ii. 
 p. 2. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 1830-32. 
 
 POLITICAL VICISSITUDES THE CHOLERA. 
 
 There was but one person, one course of action 
 that seemed capable of arresting tbe revolution and 
 of restoring order to the country by securing its 
 liberties. The accession of King Louis-Philippe in 
 1830 gave to France eighteen years of peace, of good 
 and free government ; it afforded her a resting-place 
 amidst the long succession of shocks and agitations 
 which have disturbed her career for nearly a century. 
 Those who lent a hand to the work of July, 1830, 
 believed that they were founding a durable edifice ; 
 their brilliant hopes for the future consoled them for 
 the sadness and anxiety of the present ; these hopes 
 were in themselves happiness. M. Guizot spent three 
 months at the Home Office (Ministere de VInUrieur) 
 in. reorganizing almost the whole government, giving 
 audiences at four in the morning, and being found 
 every day at two sittings in the Chamber. * You 
 will require M. Guizot for a long time,' M. Casimir 
 P^rier said to the king ; ' tell him not to kill him- 
 self at once in your service.' 
 
124 MOKSIEUE GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 In the beginning of November, the members of 
 the Council who formed the nucleus of resistance 
 to revolutionary tendencies — MM. de Broglie, Casi- 
 mir P^rier, and Guizot — retired, and M. Lafitte 
 became President of the Council 
 
 Madame Guizot had taken an enthusiastic interest 
 in the anxieties and annoyances of her husband, she 
 likewise shared his hopes and his triumphs ; but the 
 duties of the new life which she was called upon to 
 lead weighed upon her much more than its pleasures 
 afforded her enjoyment. 
 
 ' All this is like a dream,' dear sister, she wrote on 
 the fourth of August, from the Ministere de Vlnt^- 
 rieur ; 'the noisy magnificence of this house tires 
 me. I am determined, should I stay here, to lead 
 the simplest life possible, except on ceremonial occa- 
 sions.' 
 
 After M. Guizot quitted office, the violence of par- 
 liamentary discussion left no time for repose or do- 
 mestic life ; it was only when they were at Broglie 
 in May, 1831, that M. and Madame Guizot at length 
 enjoyed a few peaceful days, after a tour that he was 
 obliged to make in the arrondissements of Lisieux 
 and Pont-1'Eveque. During his absence Madame 
 Guizot wrote to her sister : -r- 
 
 ' I am very comfortable here ; I am enjoying 
 greatly the perfect quiet of this house and not hav- 
 ing to listen to politics all day long. 
 
 ' For eight months I have been living on the 
 treadmill, or in a furnace, whichever you like to call 
 it ; the opening of the Chambers will send me back 
 
POLITICAL VICISSITUDES. 125 
 
 to it, and I am delighted, to take beforehand a long 
 bath of repose. But to make it perfect, I want M. 
 Guizot by my side ; away from him I do not live ; 
 my only interest in the day is to see it come to an 
 end ; my mind is impatient, and comits each hour, 
 each minute which must pass till that one comes 
 which will bring him back to me. This is not the 
 way to rest oneself. Therefore I look forward, as a 
 real rest, only to the ten days which we shall spend 
 here after his final return — then only I shall be able 
 to enjoy the country and its tranquil beauty at my 
 ease. In the meantime, I am enchanted by the 
 happiness of my little Henri ette ; she enjoys her- 
 self thoroughly, spends her life in the open air, 
 goes in and out, gathers flowers, makes little 
 gardens, and grows fatter and rosier every day. 
 I am convinced that this visit will do her infinite 
 good.' 
 
 On the second of May M. Guizot wrote to his 
 wife from Honfleur, after seeing the sea for the first 
 time, a pleasure which he had always promised him- 
 self to share with her : — 
 
 * I am in despair at having only half-an-hoixr to 
 write to you in ; what have I not to tell you ! I 
 have been spending four hours on the sea-shore, 
 from one headland to another. I have been over a 
 small man-of-war. The weather was splendid ; now 
 a storm is coming up. 
 
 ' You are not here. It is a strange experience to 
 have a sharp sensation of delight which turns in- 
 stantly into one of pain, and yet the delight comes 
 
126 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 back of itself, sharp and irresistible, in spite of my 
 efforts ; in vain it changes to pain, in an instant the 
 pleasure returns ; I can neither shut it out nor silence 
 it. I have just been passing four hours in feeling it 
 and losing it ; never, perhaps, have I been in such a 
 completely involuntary state, able neither to reject 
 nor to enjoy. It was no sudden, extraordinary sen- 
 sation that the sight of the sea gave to me ; I felt 
 my mind unfold itself easily and naturally, as if it 
 had hitherto wanted space, and that in the presence 
 of this immense and equable space it was able at 
 last to enjoy fully, and to move freely. It was an 
 emotion calm at first, but constantly growing strong- 
 er ; gentle, and yet powerful ; every minute seizing 
 hold of me more and more powerfully, and nailing 
 me to the spot and to the sight. Why were you not 
 there? Why were we not alone? We will come 
 here some day. I have already promised this both 
 to you and myself, and then I shall feel real and 
 entire satisfaction. Four hours, dearest ! Four hours 
 without you, in the midst of all this mental agita- 
 tion, and, meanwhile, keeping up an incessant con- 
 versation with five people. I am tired to death ! 
 But I must tell you that the sea is incomparable, 
 even at Honfleur, that the situation of Honfleur is 
 beautiful, and that the people here are so charming 
 as to talk constantly of you. I must say good-bye. 
 What is my little girl doing ? Dear child ! I should 
 like to know if some vague recollection of me often 
 enters her little mind, if my image sometimes floats 
 before her eyes. Give her a kiss from me. 
 
POLITICAL VICISSITUDES. 127 
 
 ' To-day we have the great banquet. Yesterday I 
 met fifteen constituents at dinner, and thirty in the 
 evening. They cleverly invited two or three half- 
 opponents, uncertain as to their votes. We talked 
 politics. I told the story of the last nine months. 
 To-day I shall repeat it with a little more ceremony. 
 
 ' I am spoiled here. There are a great many 
 people who are first-rate, and a great many others 
 who are sensible and have good intentions, but who 
 need much enlightenment. They know nothing, 
 and understand nothing. Of all this public talk 
 which deafens us, only a few sentences are echoed 
 from time to time in a commune containing two or 
 three electors. What they hear disturbs more than 
 it instructs them. They do not understand the 
 political terms or the connection of events. We can 
 form no idea of their ignorance, or of the effect pro- 
 duced in their minds by the shreds of information 
 — facts, speeches, and newspapers — which fall from 
 
 time to time into their hands Good-bye ; 
 
 I am going to have a first-class meeting. Speeches 
 will be made, I shall reply. Toasts will be given, I 
 shall give others in return. Nothing will be want- 
 ing. I should like to see my little girl in the midst 
 of all this hubbub ; she would begin to cry. Adieu ! 
 adieii ! They have found me for my rounds a little 
 mare, which is said to have charming paces.' 
 
 M. Guizot returned to Broglie on the twenty- 
 second of May ; a few days afterwards he went back 
 to Paris. This separation which they each found so 
 difficult to bear, was to be the last before the final 
 
128 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 parting. On the twenty-second of June the birth 
 of a second daughter added another joy to their 
 already great and deeply-felt happiness. 
 
 * I am happy, very happy, in every respect,' 
 Madame Guizot wrote to her sister, whom she had 
 the satisfaction of seeing well married to M. D^court, 
 the sous-prefet of Bethune. ' If God will bestow a 
 little peace on this country, if He will but protect us 
 from dangers the terror of which has given us many 
 sleepless nights ; if only I have nothing to fear for 
 the beloved objects to whom my life is bound, no 
 creature will owe more heartfelt gratitude to the 
 sovereign Disposer of all good. What do I not owe 
 Him already, dear sister 1 He has given me your 
 happiness, the only thing that was wanting to mine.' 
 
 The cholera had just broken out in Paris; the new 
 and terrible visitor, who revealed with an awful 
 distinctness the hideous corruption, as well as the 
 greatness of human nature. The poor, who at first 
 were alone attacked by the disease, were for an in- 
 stant carried away by the wild terror which caused 
 so many frightful massacres in the plagues of the 
 Middle Ages. It was only a passing impulse ; soon 
 the calm, strong measures of the Government, the 
 admirable courage displayed by the priests, the 
 doctors, and by women, re-animated and raised 
 the spirits of the people. Temporary hospitals, 
 erected by private charity, helped the insufficiency 
 of the ordinary resources. Madame Guizot spent 
 her life among the poor, whom she had long been in 
 the habit of visiting with affectionate assiduity. 
 
THE CHOLEEA. 129 
 
 ' After the cruel scenes of the last few days,' she 
 writes to her sister on the sixth of April, 1832, 'quiet 
 has returned, but my mind is still quite upset by 
 them ; the sight of so much misery lacerates me, and 
 that of so much folly and crime overwhelms me. 
 Our plans for the summer are more uncertain than 
 ever ; we shall not quit Paris as long as the cholera 
 is here ; we do not wish either to leave or to take 
 away our collegians.* Besides, we think it wrong to 
 abandon the poor to this scourge; they alone suffered 
 from it at first; now, although the evil is abating, 
 there is great alarm in the world that fills the 
 drawing-rooms, which has seen several of its mem- 
 bers fall victims. Thousands of the poor fell without 
 the minds of the rich being much affected ; to rouse 
 them it was necessary to strike home. Let us pray 
 that this scourge may be stopped, there are surely 
 enough victims.' 
 
 A few days later Madame Guizot had to endure 
 the agony of the most terrible anxiety, for her hus- 
 band was violently attacked by cholera. The utmost 
 care and skill, added to the calm bravery of the 
 patient himself, soon banished all danger ; he was 
 convalescent on the sixteenth of May, when M. 
 Casimir Perier, who had been attacked by the epi- 
 demic, died like a valiant soldier struck down at 
 his post. ' Poor M. Perier,' Madame Guizot writes 
 to her sister. ' I told you yesterday that he was 
 better, but he died this morning at seven o'clock. 
 
 * Eranjois Guizot and Madame Guizot's nephew. — Tr. 
 
 9 
 
130 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 The very evident improvement noticed for the last 
 few days stopped on Sunday evening ; on Monday 
 he was not so well, but we still tried to persuade 
 ourselves that it was only one of the ups and downs 
 natural after such a terrible illness ; yesterday, how- 
 ever, it was no longer possible to hope. M. Guizot 
 went out for the first time to visit this house ©f 
 mourning ; M. P6rier was at the point of death, my 
 husband wished much to see him once more, but as 
 his eyes were still open, though their light was 
 dimmed, the emotion of a recognition was feared, 
 and M. Guizot was deprived of this sad satisfaction. 
 I regretted it less than he did, for I am sure that it 
 would have done him harm ; he was much affected 
 by the hour he passed in the house of his poor friend. 
 He was sincerely attached to M. P^rier, more so 
 than I was aware of; he found in him qualities of 
 rare excellence, which it was my husband's nature 
 fully to appreciate. We are also much grieved by 
 the death of poor M. Cuvier; he noted all the details 
 of his own illness with scientific precision, and he 
 regi-etted life for the sake of the great works which 
 he had not been able to finish. Adieu, dearest, my 
 heart is too heavy to write more.' 
 
 The cholera was nearly over, even in the depart- 
 ments which it reached later, and in which it re- 
 mained longer, than it did in Paris. The alarm was 
 beginning to sober down ; in some places it had 
 been so excessive that the Due and Duchesse de 
 Broglie were obliged to perform the last duties for 
 
THE CHOLERA. 131 
 
 the victims who fell around them in Normandy, just 
 after they had the grief of losing a charming girl of 
 fifteen. M. Guizot wrote on the twenty-eighth of 
 May to the Due de Broglie : — 
 
 * How are you all at Broglie, my dear friend ? I 
 regret extremely that I am not able to join you there 
 at once, I should bring with me what we all want, 
 and you more than any of us just now — a great 
 deal of sympathy and a little variety. 
 
 ' One can never say all that one feels ; even in 
 the closest friendship there are infinite reserves and 
 reticences, but it seems to me as if your loss were 
 mine, I feel it as a personal grief; I always see 
 before me that lovely child — calm, transparent, and 
 brilliant, like a beautiful lake in sunshine. It gave 
 me so much pleasure to look at her, to anticipate 
 the happy future promised by the inward harmony 
 which showed itself in the sweet tranquillity of her 
 brilliant eyes, in her gentle movements, and her 
 frank smile. I rejoiced both for your sake and hers 
 in your affection for her, and looked forward with 
 pleasure to the consolation which you would all 
 derive from it in the trials of life. 
 
 ' If we were together I should probably not tell 
 you one word of all this, but you could not help 
 feeling that my thoughts answered yours, and at 
 the same time I should help you not to give your- 
 self up entirely to them. We are never consoled, 
 nothing can console us, not even a new source of 
 happiness ; but we grow calm, we regain possession 
 of our faculties and of our lives. We keep and 
 
132 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 guard jealously in our minds a cherished memory 
 to which we do not in any way sacrifice the future. 
 It is for this that we must constantly strive, and it 
 is to help you in this that I wish I were with you. 
 But our house is still a hospital. My mother has 
 been very unwell ; she is better, and I am assured 
 that in a few days all traces of her illness will have 
 disappeared. As for me, I am quite well, my 
 strength came back with a rapidity that astonished 
 everybody. I can walk two or three leagues with- 
 out fatigue; all that remains is a constant recur- 
 rence of sharp pain over the eyebrows. Open air, 
 exercise, and quiet, will cure me. I am beginning 
 to recover the power of working, although I do not 
 use it as yet' 
 
 The excitement of the riots of June, 1832, suc- 
 ceeded the excitement of the cholera, which, indeed, 
 had not wholly disappeared. A few days later M. 
 Guizot wrote to M. de Broglie : ' Do not be afraid, 
 dear friend, that the powers given by the proclama- 
 tion of the state of siege will be abused. Clumsily 
 enough it was proclaimed twenty-four, or at least 
 twelve hours too late ; but we shall use our power 
 as little as possible, if at all. A few domiciliary 
 visits, a great many fire-arms, perhaps a few papers 
 seized, and the moral eff"ect produced by the evi- 
 dence of victory — this is all. I do not know wheth- 
 er there will be any trials by court-martial. A few 
 such trials would have been useful during the three 
 days, but now it is too late. It is evident that the 
 
L0CI8 PHILIPPE AT THE HOTEL DE VILLB. 
 
THE CHOLEEA. 133 
 
 people do not know how to use or to lay down this 
 terrible weapon. 
 
 ' Here is a true and particular account of what 
 passed. It was a parody on the Revolution of July, 
 1830, played out and damned. Nothing was want- 
 ing, neither the Address of the 221 members, under 
 the name of the " Memorial of '41," nor the barri- 
 cades, nor the attempt to lead M. de La Fayette to 
 the Hotel de Ville, nor the assembly of the Depu- 
 ties, nor the officers to interpose, &c. I never saw 
 a more complete and servile copy. The public 
 hissed angrily. I do not think that another per- 
 formance will be attempted for a long time. Besides, 
 the government has regained possession of the guns: 
 power without guns is as impossible as power with- 
 out judgment. Charles X. fell for want of judg- 
 ment ; we tottered for want of guns. "We now possess 
 guns as well as judgment. Lastly, the king has 
 exposed his own person — naturally, freely, and suc- 
 cessfully. He has gained popularity, not only in 
 the streets, but in society. It is said throughout the 
 Faubourg St. Grermain that he won his crown on the 
 sixth of June. This is what we have really gained. 
 But my heart bleeds when I think of all the use that 
 might be made, and will not be made, of this capital. 
 I fear that we shall squander it instead of putting it 
 out to interest. 
 
 ' Eemusat has returned from London ; he is 
 pleased with the condition of England, both as re- 
 gards us and herself Everything seems to him to 
 indicate that the national good sense will modify all 
 
134 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 the short-sightedness and violence of the Eeform 
 Bill. Onrs is the age of national good sense ; we 
 are forced to believe in it as we believe in God, with- 
 out seeing it anywhere, and almost without under- 
 standing it ; it reveals itself in its works. I could 
 wish, I must own, for some clearer and more lasting 
 manifestation of it. I have a great liking for per- 
 sonification, for the incarnation of goodness and 
 truth. However, I do not complain ; it is better to 
 have the real Deity, although invisible, than idols. 
 
 'All this is horribly doctrinaire* Pray, keep it 
 secret. Just imagine the shrugs of certain people 
 whom you know very well, and clever people too, if 
 they heard such language. To reach the public m'o 
 must stoop and shrink as a cat does to pass under a 
 door ; it is the sine qua non. Sometimes it bores me, 
 sometimes it makes me angiy, yet I would rather 
 endure it than give up action. I reserve perfect 
 freedom and the proud possession of my own mind 
 for the quiet of old age. When we walk about at 
 Broglie with stooping backs and uncertain steps, we 
 will be as philosophical and as doctrinaire as we 
 please, without being afraid of what people will say. 
 
 ' In the meanwhile, I wish I were there, doctrinaire 
 or not doctrinaire, to breathe at my ease, free from 
 all this sometimes awful and sometimes feverish 
 excitement. We are all very well; my mother is 
 recovering. I have no trace left of the cholera. 
 Even its name has ceased to be mentioned, I think. 
 
 * Seep. 55. — Tr. 
 
THE CHOLERA. 135 
 
 Again, on the thirteenth of August — 
 'Will you then never have done with the cholera? 
 They say here that its appearance at Bordeaux shows 
 that it certainly is about to leave us — that it makes 
 these sudden jumps when it really is going away. 
 In trials like these it is necessary to say something ; 
 people feel, without knowing why, the need of 
 frightening as well as of reassuring themselves. In 
 the same minute, in the same sentence, they alter- 
 nately exaggerate fear and hope. We now are able 
 to understand Thucydides and Boccaccio. It is 
 plain that without the efforts of science and civili- 
 zation, (which, in spite of their imperfections, have 
 done wonders,) we should have had in the streets 
 the frightful spectacles which we used formerly to 
 accuse of poetical e?;aggeration. The older I grow, 
 the more absolutely am I convinced that in every- 
 thing, in the portraiture of scenes of the external 
 world, as well as in that of the internal mind, the 
 imagination of man falls far short of reality. There 
 is a thousand times more passion in a heart full of 
 deep emotion than in the most passionate novel ; a 
 thousand times more incidents and scenes in a real 
 event than M. Hugo or M. Dumas could compress 
 into a melodrama. Literature is only a pale reflec- 
 tion of life, and the happiness and misery that God 
 creates are infinitely greater than any which man 
 can paint. 
 
 * Orfila still lingers ; he cannot yet be considered 
 convalescent, and they say there is as much cause 
 for fear as for hope. If he is to recover there will 
 
136 MONSIEUK GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 be a marked improvement a week hence : but he 
 may be months in dying. His body is worn out 
 with work and pleasure. He has suffered much, 
 and enjoyed much. His loss would be greatly felt, 
 for it seems that since he has been Principal he has 
 developed talents for government — a natural ascen- 
 dancy, a skill in managing men — which make him 
 invaluable as the head of such a school. He has led 
 the students entirely back into the ways of study 
 and science. Those who give themselves up to 
 politics are treated as fools, and much despised. On 
 the sixth of June only fifty students were absent 
 from the class. 
 
 ' Not four would be absent, I am sure, if the sixth 
 of June tried to repeat itself, for all the world would 
 laugh at it, seize it, and stifle it in a second. I never 
 saw a disturbance so cried down, or such a perfect 
 calm, as at present. Prosperity is returning in every 
 direction. But for the cholera, the improvement in 
 trade would have been very great.' 
 
 ^August 20tJi. — I do not know if I shall achieve 
 a letter to you this morning. I am going to the dis- 
 tribution of the prizes after the great examination 
 (grand concours). Franqois and Maurice have ob- 
 tained nominations ; they have, therefore, left college 
 and its studies. Francois will attend philosophical 
 and mathematical classes. It will be a new world 
 for him ; he is disgusted with the old one. It re- 
 quired all his gentleness and his confidence in me to 
 prevent this last year of Greek and Latin from be- 
 coming nauseous to him. There is evidently in 
 
THE CHOLERA. 137 
 
 classical studies something which no longer answers 
 to the present condition, the natural inclination, of 
 society and of the public mind. I do not know what 
 it is, I am trying to find out. On no account would 
 I abolish, or even diminish, classical studies — the 
 only ones which in boyhood really strengthen and 
 inform the mind. I approve highly of those few 
 . years passed in familiar intercourse with antiquity, 
 for if one knows nothing of it, one is never anything 
 but an upstart in knowledge. Greece and Rome are 
 the good society of the human mind ; and in the 
 midst of the decline of every other aristocracy, one 
 must endeavour to keep this one standing. Taken 
 altogether, I consider college life — a life of study 
 and liberty — as intellectually excellent. From it 
 alone are sent forth strong, natural, and refined 
 minds ; cultivated and developed to the utmost, yet 
 without any false bias or eccentricity. I am struck 
 more and more by the advantages of a classical 
 education. Nevertheless, I see, as in the instance 
 of my son, there are changes, and important changes, 
 to be made. The instruction is too meagre and too 
 slow : and the intellectual atmosphere of the actual 
 world is too different from that of a college. The 
 system is adapted to teach very large classes ; the 
 consequence is that the superior pupils are sacrificed 
 to the inferior, and the classes are so large because 
 a number of boys, not being able to find a place 
 where they may learn what tliey require and wish 
 for, go there to learn what they do not require and 
 do not wish for. If the truth were told, our colleges 
 
138 MONSIEUB GUIZOT IN PKIVATE LIFE. 
 
 are still made on the pattern of the society of the last 
 century. The dreams of the eighteenth century, the 
 follies of the Revolution in this matter, have disgusted 
 us — and justly — with the new experiments which 
 succeeded so ill, and in returning to the old road we 
 have fallen into the old gutters. We ought to get 
 out of them, but with great pains and precaution, 
 for in spite of everything, our colleges and their 
 systems are worth a great deal more than the 
 schools which M. de Tracy and M. de Laplace 
 would have given us — could they have given us 
 anything, which would have lasted only as long as 
 they lasted themselves. 
 

 
 
 IjAFAYETTB. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 1832-33. 
 
 PUBLIC EDUCATION DEATH OP MADAME :£lISA GUIZOT. 
 
 The moment was approaching when M. Guizot was 
 to attempt the solution of the great problem of public 
 education, which had long occupied his thoughts. 
 
 From the twelfth of March, 1831, when M. Casimir 
 Perier, immediately after the sack of the Archbishop's 
 palace, assumed the reins of government, he was con- 
 sistently supported in the Chamber by M. Guizot and 
 his friends, although they took no actual part in 
 public affairs. The death of the great captain, who 
 had managed the ship with such a firm hand, left it 
 a prey to the violence of the waves. The hesitation 
 of parties was great, that of the king greater still. 
 
 ' There is no news,' M. Guizot wrote to M. de 
 Broglie, on the twenty-sixth of August, 1832, 'except- 
 ing that there is a slight breeze getting up, which 
 shows that we are nearing land, a land of labour, not 
 of rest. There is renewed activity, new combinations 
 are suggested, insinuations and half-confidences are 
 whispered. As far as I can judge our course is not 
 bad, and we are floating towards the right shore. It 
 would be impossible to remain on the wrong one; but 
 
140 MONSIEUE GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 it is difficult to find the right. At eight o'clock to- 
 morrow morning I am going to preside at some 
 examinations in history, at the Ecole normale. The 
 pupils who are leaving have written some remarka- 
 ble themes, full of a real historical spirit. I want to 
 see what Michelet has taught them. I do not trust 
 his method. 
 
 ' I am delighted the cholera is leaving you. I was 
 as much afraid of the gloom it produced as of the 
 danger. Gloom does no good at the age of your 
 children, especially a gloom at which one looks on in 
 sadness and idleness, a gloom which does not touch 
 one closely enough to rouse the mind, and which 
 weakens instead of strengthening it. You ought to 
 let them make an excursion to Havre. Stagnation is 
 poison for the young. I see how much it weighs on 
 my son. He was to have spent his vacation in travel- 
 ling, and in field-sports, with you, and in Anjou and 
 Touraine. He gave it all up with the greatest sweet- 
 ness, to please me. The cholera is in every place 
 where he intended to go, I gave him his choice, and 
 he did not once hesitate. I shall do my best to enliven 
 his vacation, but nothing can replace external move- 
 ment — new places, new people, and the first experi- 
 ence of personal liberty and individual action. When 
 Rousseau said, 'A thinking man is a depraved animal,' 
 he turned as usual a small truth into great nonsense, 
 but the small truth is there notwithstanding. Our 
 age is too much given to thought, we ask too much 
 from it, alone it is not enough to animate life. Nature 
 impels us outwards, to action. It is from without that 
 
PUBLIC EDUCATION. 141 
 
 we must draw food for the inner man, and if we 
 neglect this too much, the mind falls into a morbid 
 state. I have learnt all this from experience, for in 
 my youth I disliked action ; solitary meditation and 
 my own feelings were the sources of my keenest en- 
 joyments. And, even now, although I enjoy action, it 
 is not my natural taste, nor, in my opinion, a satis- 
 factory life. In it one is struck every moment by the 
 gross imperfection of all things ; one tires, one ex- 
 hausts oneself in endeavouring to conquer it, and in ' 
 this interminable struggle the best efforts have so little 
 apparent result, that the prize, indeed, is not worth 
 the pains. The position of a spectator, a pure and 
 simple thinker, has pleasures which are much more 
 wide and free ; but precisely here lies the evil, so 
 much liberty is not good for our weakness. We need 
 to be continually restrained, brought back by the nat- 
 ural world to the sense of the duties laid upon us, and 
 the obstacles surrounding us. We try to walk with 
 our eyes bandaged, and we find that we cannot walk 
 ten steps in a straight line. This is what happens to 
 pure and simple theory, it is blind and soon goes 
 astray. And when this discovery has been made, 
 when one is once convinced that action is necessary 
 in order to prevent theory from turning to folly, one 
 must make up one's mind to accept with a good grace 
 the natural and normal condition of mankind. 
 
 ' You will agree that it would be better to say all 
 this than to write it. I hope that you miss me a 
 little, for I miss you extremely. As I advance in 
 life I want fewer people, but I want more than ever 
 
142 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 those few. Putting aside affection, I experience two 
 contradictory impressions, every day I feel my mind 
 grow richer in observation, in ideas, in all that men 
 Uke to communicate to each other ; and at the same 
 time, every day the number of those with whom I 
 can have true and free communication becomes 
 smaller, thus sympathy and mental companionship 
 are every day more necessary and less frequent. I 
 shall certainly miss my holiday as much as Francois 
 will his ; I look forward with some dread to the 
 furnace of the session, which will begin before I have 
 been able to refresh myself at Broglie after the two 
 years which we have just gone through — another 
 sacrifice to which I must resign myself. 
 
 'M. de Talleyrand is better, but not yet well 
 enough to start for London.' 
 
 M. de Talleyrand's business in Paris was still more 
 important than that which called him to London. 
 On being consulted as to the formation of a new 
 ministry, he advised the king to send for the Due 
 de Broglie. The latter accordingly came to Paris, 
 and his first word as well as his final resolution 
 were, that he would not enter any Cabinet without 
 M. Guizot. 
 
 After a few days of hesitation and consultation, 
 the Ministry of the eleventh of October was formed, 
 which assembled round the King Louis Philippe all 
 those powerful elements of a strong government 
 which afterwards fell apart with such fatal results. 
 M. de Broglie became Minister of Foreign Affairs ; 
 M. Thiers, Home Minister; Marshal Soult was 
 
MARSHAL aOULT. 
 
PUBLIC EDUCATION. 143 
 
 President of the Council ; M. Guizot was appointed 
 Minister of Public Education. 
 
 ' As you are obliged to go back into the furnace,' 
 M. Royer-Collard writes, on the fourteenth of Octo- 
 ber, ' I am glad that you are to be Minister of Public 
 Education. You will stand in the breach, but at any 
 rate you will have had the merit of scaling it ; you 
 will not be hung out as a flag of defiance.' 
 
 On the fourteenth of October M. Guizot wrote to 
 M. de Barante : — 
 
 ' My dear friend, here we are again in the field. 
 For a long time I could not believe that the right 
 course would prove so soon the necessary one. The 
 excitement is great, but not greater than I expected. 
 All the old disputes, old rivalries, and irritable vani- 
 ties, are at work. These are our great impediments, 
 but I hope we shall overcome them. There is a 
 strong party against us and a strong party for us. 
 
 ' It is absolutely necessary that we should first 
 settle our foreign affairs. When that is done we shall 
 be able to deal with other matters. It were easier to 
 rebuild Lisbon on its burning and shaking soil than 
 to set up again a disorganized society. This, however, 
 is the task before us. M. Perier rendered us an enor- 
 mous service ; he stopped material disorder ; but 
 political disorder, intellectual disorder — these still 
 remain and have to be conquered. I have always 
 thought well of our country, and I still think well of 
 it, perhaps better than ever; but I see, I feel, the 
 obstacles, and I sometimes tremble. Try to get the 
 good sense of Europe to help us ; we need the exist- 
 
144 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 ence of every factor of reason and good sense, and 
 we must gather strength wherever we can find it. 
 Let it be well understood that we are playing the 
 great, perhaps the last, game of order and safety in 
 Europe, and that all honest men, all men of sense, 
 must join in the game. If we employ well the time 
 that remains before the session begins, I think we 
 may be sure of success. 
 
 ' You have sent me a charming paper, which I am 
 going to print and to circulate, either in the Bevue de 
 Paris, or separately. Be easy as to the authorship 
 being kept secret. The whole history of France is 
 in it, and your advice as to the present is turned in 
 a way which will be favourably received. Send me 
 from time to time similar articles ; I promise to make 
 good use of them. 
 
 ' You will, I am sure, approve of my refusing any 
 other post than that of Public Education. I shall 
 not utter one word the less in consequence, and the 
 public will think all the better of me. We shall make 
 every possible effort to rally round us all the chiefs of 
 the majority, and not to leave out M. Dupin. I do 
 not despair, we shall face boldly every difficulty, and 
 not allow ourselves to be discouraged by small mis- 
 takes and failures. Victor * is in excellent spirits.' 
 
 Throughout his life M. Guizot preserved a lively 
 and grateful recollection of his labours at this time. 
 He has described in his memoirs the works he at- 
 tempted, the hopes he entertained ; some that were 
 both great and important failed, and for others there 
 
 * The Due de Broglie. 
 
PUBLIC EDUCATION. 145 
 
 was no time; others again were the germs of im- 
 provements which have since been effected ; the 
 most important of all, the organization of primary 
 instruction in France has resisted every shock and 
 triumphed over every attack. The work which the 
 Convention and the Emperor Napoleon neglected 
 was accomplished by the law of 1838 ; by degrees 
 elementary education has been put within the reach 
 of the whole people of France. 
 
 Madame Guizot did not regret her husband's re- 
 turn to public life. She already felt the truth, which 
 he afterwards often put into words : ' I like power 
 because I like to put forth my strength.' She had 
 no wish to keep the combatant out of the arena. She 
 wrote to her sister on the twenty-second of October, 
 1832: — 
 
 ' You ask what I think of the change in our posi- 
 tion. I think a great many things, so many that I 
 can tell you only a few of them. I know that public 
 life is fall of difficulties, storms — perhaps even of 
 dangers — and yet I am very glad to see my husband 
 again in it. One day, before our marriage, he asked 
 me if I should not be frightened by the vicissitudes 
 of his career ; I can still see the brilliant look of 
 delight which he gave me when I answered that he 
 might feel easy, that I should passionately enjoy his 
 success, and not waste one sigh on his reverses. 
 "What I said then is true now, dearest ; I will keep 
 my promise, I am anxious, I am miserable at the 
 thought of the difficulties, the annoyances, the strug- 
 gles, and the perils which will beset his path, but on 
 
 10 
 
146 MONSIEUE GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 the wliole my faith supports me, and I am glad be- 
 cause he is pleased; besides, my life is not so entirely 
 disorganized as it was when he was Minister of the 
 Interior — I see, however, much less of him than I 
 like. He breakfasts and dines with us, sleeps for a 
 reasonable time, and is in good health, although he 
 works hard. Likewise his present office is very 
 agreeable to him, he is glad to find himself once more 
 among the companions and the occupations of his 
 youth. His special duties take his mind off general 
 politics ; this is a great advantage. And, lastly, dear 
 sister, if God will only leave me with him and him 
 with me, I shall always, in the midst of every possible 
 anxiety and trial, be the happiest of living creatures.' 
 
 God seldom bestows perfect happiness upon His 
 creatures, even if He shows it to us for an instant. 
 He is apt speedily to withdraw it from our gaze. 
 Madame Guizot had the joy which she ardently de- 
 sired — a son was born to her on the eleventh of 
 January, 1833. On the twenty-fourth she wrote to 
 her sister, who was expecting a second child, after 
 having lost the first : — 
 
 ' Only one thing is wanting to make you perfectly, 
 entirely happy, it is to have a son, and I know this 
 fi'om my own experience.' 
 
 She was lying on her sofa, still weak, but going 
 on well, full of talk and animation, interested in all 
 that was being said and done, when M. Royer-CoUard 
 came to see her. As he was going out he turned to 
 M. Guizot and said, ' Take care of her, look after her ; 
 
DEATH OF MADAME ilLISA GUIZOT. 147 
 
 slie lias one of those heroic natures that do not ap- 
 prehend evil until they are conquered by it.' 
 
 The sort of prophetic instinct which sometimes 
 enlightened the great political philosopher had not 
 misled him. A few days later it was said that Ma- 
 dame Guizot had caught cold, and was obliged to re- 
 turn to her bed ; soon the fever turned to delirium, 
 painfully repressed in her husband's presence. ' Go 
 away, go away ! ' she said ; ' I don't like you to hear 
 me talk nonsense.' Four years later, when on the 
 eve of seeing his son pass away from him, as his wife 
 had passed away, M. Guizot was again not allowed 
 to be present during the fits of delirium which at- 
 tacked the young man in his last moments, until the 
 end was close at hand. Passionate affection and 
 respect survived in both sufferers when all other 
 power of self-restraint had vanished. 
 
 During the night of Monday, March eleventh, 
 Madame Elisa Guizot breathed her last. She had 
 struggled long, for she was young, and she passion- 
 ately desired to live. Her little children were brought 
 to her bedside, her eyes were already dim, though full 
 of tenderness — for a long time the remembrance 
 frightened them. To the last moment she knew her 
 husband ; her hand or her lips still replied to him ; 
 even when the terrible veil which separates the 
 dying from all that they have most loved seenied to 
 have fallen upon her. ' I shall die alone,' said Pascal. 
 She never felt herself alone, not even in dying. 
 
 It was M. Guizot who was left alone ; on the 
 twenty -third of April he wrote to Madame Decourt : 
 
148 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PEIVATE LIFE. 
 
 ' No, dear sister, you will never write to her again, 
 never see her again — at table, in her room — no- 
 where ! She is no longer in her place. Can you 
 helieve it 1 Are you quite sure of it ? As for me, 
 twenty times, a hundred times a-day, I expect her to 
 come in ; I look for her as if I were sure to find her. 
 Twenty times, a hundred times a-day I make again 
 the horrible discovery. And what will it be when I 
 shall have ceased to make it, when these illusory 
 flashes do not pass through my mind, when I shall 
 no longer hear even the distant echo of her voice, 
 when I shall no longer try to grasp her shadow, when 
 the truth, the terrible truth will be always present ; 
 immovable, unsurmountable ? I cannot tell you with 
 what pain, what apprehension I watch time as it passes 
 and carries me farther away from her. Every day, 
 every hour, adds to the separation. I lose every day 
 a little more of her. Everything around me is still 
 full of her ; everything still attests her presence. A 
 fortnight ago her dresses were still in the wardrobe 
 which touches me ; now they have almost all been 
 taken away. I have already finished all the paper 
 she touched, the pens she used. Everything disap- 
 pears, everything is renewed with a rapidity which 
 tears my heart asunder. Oh ! if I could only make 
 everything permanent, unchangeable, if I could stop, 
 chain down my whole life to the moment when she 
 left me — I should suffer a thousand times less. Our 
 lives were so intimately blended, so full of activity, 
 we thought, felt, said, and did so many things together, 
 that there is not a place in the room, not an article of 
 
DEATH OF MADAME ^LISA GUIZOT. 149 
 
 furniture before my eyes, to which some dear and en- 
 chanting memory is not attached. This is my hfe at 
 present, and I contemplate with horror the possibihty 
 that I may lose even this ; that time, necessity, new 
 circumstances, may disperse its elements. My hap- 
 piness is gone, destroyed ; but I have still round me 
 its relics, its ruins ; my house has become a desert, 
 but a desert which has been a paradise. I find in it, 
 it still contains the traces and proofs of her life. May 
 I be allowed to keep all these ! I have lost every- 
 thing, but, at least, let there be no further change, I 
 form no other wish, and I dare not flatter myself 
 that this one will be granted. 
 
 ' I find, besides, inexpressible torture in the false- 
 ness of the external every-day life to which I have 
 returned. I go and come, I look on, I speak and I 
 act as if I were someone else ; and others behave to 
 me as of yore. It is not the effort, great as it is, 
 which is most unbearable ; what I detest, the thing 
 which tortures me beyond expression is, I repeat, the 
 falseness — my own falseness every instant in the 
 day, and in every relation of life. If anything could 
 comfort me, it would be to show that my love for 
 her bums with a more brilliant flame than ever ; I 
 wish to talk of nothing but her, to seem occupied with 
 nothing but her memory. I should like all who know 
 me to see that my heart is always full of her, and of 
 her only ; that her image is always before my eyes, 
 and her name always on my Hps. It seems wanting 
 in respect to her to be different, as if I were depriving 
 her of something which is her due. And yet I must 
 
150 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PEIVATE LIFE. 
 
 live, it is my duty to live as I do ; I must live out 
 my life, fulfil my destiny; she herself wishes it, 
 insists upon it ; whenever I am tempted to abandon 
 everything, to give myself up to my real feelings, to 
 show always and everywhere that which is always 
 hidden in my heart, I hear her voice — her dear voice 
 — which orders me to rise, to go on, to do — apart 
 from her, yet for her sake — the things which made 
 her happy and proud of me when she was with me. 
 Let God's will and her will be done ! 
 
 ' With yoii alone, my dear sister, I am able to let 
 myself go ; to you only I can say everything ; no, not 
 everything indeed, not the best part of what I feel, but 
 some of it, at any rate. Pray write to me, therefore ; 
 I shall always find time for you. Except myself, no 
 one knew her or loved her as you did. I am yours for 
 her sake, she bequeathed you to me, you and all you 
 care for ; and every opportunity I can have of caring 
 and acting for you, as she would have cared and 
 acted, will be a balm for my heart. I read your 
 letter three or four times over, as if you had given me 
 back some portion of her. Good-bye. My children 
 are well. You may be easy about Henriette ; I will 
 keep your recollection alive in her heart.' 
 
 M. Guizot's children were one day to have the 
 happiness of knowing fully the place they occupied 
 in his heart and life, but in the beginning of his sor- 
 row, and while they were little children, they did not 
 and could not afford him much consolation. 
 
 'I live now only on the surface,' he wrote to 
 Madame Decourt on the twenty-eighth of February, 
 
DEATH OF MADAME ^LISA 6UIZ0T. 151 
 
 1834 ; ' even my cliildren do not penetrate much be- 
 neath it. Nevertheless, I love them tenderly, for their 
 sakes as well as for hers. They are charming, but how 
 they miss her — howthey will miss her! When I look 
 at Henriette, who is so bright and so tender, so intel- 
 ligent, so good-tempered and at the same time so 
 animated; at Pauline, who is more excitable yet 
 more reserved, sometimes hesitating to speak or come 
 forward, but blushing with pleasure when I go to her 
 and speak to her ; at Gruillaume, who is beginning to 
 open his great blue eyes in his endeavours to under- 
 stand the meaning of his sisters' gestures and words 
 — it wrings my heart to think of all these little minds 
 which are so busy and so anxious to develop their 
 powers. Who will give them, as she would have done, 
 the attention of every minute 1 who will talk to them, 
 as she would have done, all the long day 1 Who will 
 direct their development with that tenderness full of 
 authority, that noble and simple intelligence, that 
 indefatigable yet calm perseverance, the treasures of 
 which she would have lavished upon them! They 
 would have been so happy with her, and in the midst 
 of their joyousness she would have prepared them 
 so well for the trials of life. You yourself do not 
 know, no one is aware, of the extent to which her 
 character developed and became nobler day by day. 
 I saw her, with rapture, rising above the little vanities, 
 shaking off the uncertainties which disturb the finest 
 minds in early youth — all conceit, all petty anxieties 
 leaving her ; the higher her position became the more 
 she raised herself above her position ; although, as 
 
162 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 you know, enjoying keenly every little pleasure and 
 external adornment of life, she became more and more 
 truly devoted to its serious and important duties. 
 Happiness for her was the source of unselfishness, it 
 seemed as if, having herself reached the goal, she was 
 henceforth detached from all personal desires, and 
 devoted only to her affections and her duties. And 
 this was all without effort, without any fixed inten- 
 tion, almost unconsciously — the result simply of 
 the development of her noble nature, blossoming as 
 the flowers, and ripening as the fruit in the hands of 
 God. And I was permitted to enjoy this lovely 
 scene, and this treasure was mine.' 
 
 A few months later Madame Decourt joined her 
 sister in heaven, leaving behind her the son so 
 ardently desired by her sister and herself. 
 
 'You must not expect consolation from me,' writes 
 M. Guizot, to his brother-in-law, on the sixth of Feb- 
 ruary, 1835 ; 'my fortitude is a sad fortitude. It is 
 well enough abroad, it is nothing at home. But if 
 my ardent, my intense sympathy can be of any mo- 
 mentary comfort to you, depend upon it it is greater 
 than you can form any idea of. My wife was the 
 only person to whom I could truly unfold the 
 thoughts that are hidden in my heart ; slie alone 
 was able to understand even half of what I feel. I 
 am now reduced to complete silence. 
 
 ' It is now twenty-seven years since I first became 
 acquainted with the Meulan family; it contained the 
 rarest, the most elevated natures, morally and intel- 
 lectually, that I have ever known,; two of them fell 
 to my lot ; I owe them all the happiness of my life, 
 
DEATH OF MADAME ^LISA GUIZOT. 153 
 
 all that I shall take pleasure in remembering when age 
 shall have conquered my activity and I am confined 
 within the circle of my own thoughts. Only twenty- 
 seven years ! and during that time I have seen 
 mother, daughters, brothers, grand-daughters pass 
 away — of all that animated and distinguished family, 
 there remain only one deaf brother, my children, 
 your son, and the poor, ruined Madame de Meulan, 
 who is glad to live under my roof 
 
 Everything belonging to the Meulan family was 
 always dear to M. Gruizot, all that remained of it was 
 collected round him. His sister-in-law, Madame de 
 Meulan (Aline de Turpin-Criss^), lived with him for 
 more than ten years, and died in his house; M. de 
 Vaines and his son, whom he received under his roof 
 after the marriage of Madame Decourt, left him only 
 from necessity, and remained always closely united 
 with the interests and affections common to the 
 family; Madame Decourt's son, who soon became 
 an orphan, found in M. Gruizot's home the most 
 affectionate family relations. 
 
 My father's life was destined to be a very long 
 and busy one; great consolations and deeply-felt 
 joys were yet in store for him, but he never forgot 
 one of the gifts which Grod had first bestowed and 
 then taken away from him — his memory was always 
 faithful to them. 
 
 On the twentieth of April he wrote to Madame de 
 Brosrlie, one of the few who were allowed sometimes 
 to penetrate into the sanctuary of his grief. 
 
 ' If you were here I should call on you this morn- 
 ing, but you are not here. Nothing remains, nothing 
 
154 MONSIEUK GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 is liere always, neither our great nor our little pleas- 
 ures — on, on, without stopping — this is the radical 
 and incurable evil in this world. I cannot reproach 
 myself with having forgotten it when I was happy, 
 it was the only thing that disturbed my happiness — 
 the thought was always recurring to me. I literally 
 felt each day pass, and the earth go round under my 
 feet. Those happy days fled, and the earth spun 
 round faster even than I thought. God cannot, I am 
 sure, accuse me of ingratitude, I did not undervalue 
 for a single instant the extent of His bounty ; I felt 
 that it was beyond, I will not say my deserts, but 
 even my powers of enjoyment ; all that one hears or 
 reads of the insufficiency of the greatest human joys, 
 and of the rapidity with which the mind comes to an 
 end of them, has always seemed to me to be false and 
 impious. I found my happiness immense, inexhausti- 
 ble ; but at the moment when I enjoyed it most 
 intensely I always felt that I did not fully enter into 
 all that was given to me ; my satisfaction, my grati- 
 tude were imbounded, and yet it always seemed to 
 me as if a part of the heavenly gift fell to earth, and 
 was lost before it was able to reach me ; and in the 
 midst of the purest joys I always felt and regretted 
 that there were joys beyond, still more delightful, 
 that I could dimly see, but that I was unable to grasp. 
 Tell me, is not this what is meant by infinity — in- 
 finite happiness, infinite love 1 This alone satisfies, 
 and at the same time lies beyond us ; this alone is 
 enough for us, and we are not enough for it. When 
 shall we attain that state in wliich we shall still feel 
 that our happiness is greater than we ourselves are 
 
DEATH OF MADAME iLISA GUIZOT. 155 
 
 while we shall not fear to lose it, and in which we shall 
 have eternity before ns to enjoy, without ever exliaust- 
 ing it? There, into that future, we must learn to trans- 
 port ourselves and to live, even in the present; but the 
 heart is weak, and the most steadfast hope does not 
 make up for actual possession. It is thus that God has 
 made us and has willed us, we must accept ourselves 
 as He has made us, ourselves and our destiny alike 
 in their imperfection. I always come round to this 
 state of absolute and blind submission, and in it alone 
 can I find rest. 
 
 ' My children have returned from Dieppe ; they 
 are flourishing ; the sea-baths and douches have 
 strengthened my little Pauline beyond my expecta- 
 tions. Guillaume is very well, he is always the same 
 sweet and gentle little creature, without the least idea 
 of all that his pure blue eyes say to me. Henriette 
 is more lively and good-tempered than ever. 
 
 ' A little while ago I came one evening, iipon this 
 fragment, very extraordinary in such a place, from 
 an Elegy, by Propertius : — 
 
 ' " And now I bequeath to you the pledges of our 
 union — our children. The thought of them lives, 
 and will always live, under my ashes. Father, take 
 on yourself the part of a mother ; it is roimd your 
 neck that all my beloved ones will in futm-e cling. 
 When you kiss away their tears, give them some 
 kisses from their mother. The whole care of the 
 house will fall upon you. If, when you are away 
 from them, you yield to grief, dry your eyes, and 
 hide your sorrow when you embrace them. Let it 
 
156 MOKSIEUK GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 be enough for you to dedicate the nights to my 
 memory, and to see me continually returning to you 
 in your dreams ; and if, in the privacy of sohtude, 
 you speak to my image, speak to me always as if I 
 were present, and ready to respond." ' 
 
 M. Guizot wrote to Madame de Broglie on the 
 seventeenth of November, the anniversary of the 
 death of her brother, M Auguste de Stael, who had 
 been taken away from his family in 1827, after ten 
 months of married life, and just before the bu-th of a 
 son, who survived him for only two years : — 
 
 ' Dear Friend, — Is not this the day when our 
 poor Auguste left us ? I shall turn into another Old 
 Mortality. My heart is with the dead. I like to 
 verify dates and places, to scratch off the moss, to 
 raise the headstones, to take off my hat as I pass by. 
 And not only for those whom I loved as I loved 
 Auguste, but for all whom I have known tolerably 
 well. They, too, have reached the other shore ; they 
 are with the loved ones who have carried thither my 
 soul. I am exhausted by my efforts to bring it back 
 again to employ it in the work we have to do on 
 earth. As long as the actual labour lasts, I can do 
 it ; but as soon as the plough stops, my mind, my 
 heart — my whole being, escapes to another world. 
 
 - ' I am convinced that God has done wisely in 
 leaving so many clouds between the two shores ; if 
 tlie distance were perfectly clear, and we could see 
 right before us in their own image, full of life and 
 beauty, those of whom even the bare idea pales and 
 
DEATH OF MADAME i^LISA GUIZOT. 157 
 
 extinguishes everything else, it would be impossible 
 to live and to wait; we should rush after them. 
 During my happiness I did not lose — far from it — 
 the sense of the imperfection of all human things ; 
 twenty times a-day I felt that the world was false, 
 dry, cold, coarse, inferior ; but I turned away from 
 it ; I looked at my side. ... 0, yes ! it is cer- 
 tain that then every feeling of imperfection, of want, 
 of deception, vanished ; my mind was filled with per- 
 fect satisfaction. And yet I am sure, quite sure, that 
 there was no idolatry in this ; not only we had our 
 faults, our littlenesses, but we were aware of them, 
 we talked of them, we told each other of them, and 
 humbled ourselves together, or in turn. But our 
 happiness was not disturbed by them, not in the 
 least; we endured, we accepted, and we fought 
 against the infijrmities of our state and nature ; in 
 the midst of these evils and struggles we were each 
 a certain support and rest to the other ; we felt from 
 the bottom of our hearts that our relation to each 
 other was entirely in haraiony with the will and the 
 goodness of God. And our failings were no more 
 hurtful to our happiness than to our gratitude. 
 
 ' I was not going to talk to you of myself, and 
 now I can speak of nothing else. However, it is of 
 little consequence ; to sympathise with you, and your 
 sister, and with all who live and weep, I need not go 
 out of myself. Pray for me ; ask that I may have 
 strength ; no one knows how many times a-day it 
 fails me, and I fear that it will go on failing me more 
 and more.' 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 1833-37. 
 
 VAL-EICHEE — DEATH OF FRANCOIS GUIZOT. 
 
 Life resumed once more its usual course round M. 
 Guizot. The desolate hearth was not deserted. 
 Always ready for the most complete and absolute 
 devotion — especially when it implied action, and 
 gave her the ruling place in the government — M. 
 Guizot's mother once more stood by him, and, at the 
 age of sixty-nine, accepted courageously the task of 
 educating and bringing up tlu-ee childi'en, the eldest 
 of whom was not four years of age, while the 
 youngest was only two months old. When their 
 mother felt the hand of death upon her, she recom- 
 mended her childi'en, in the intervals of delirium, to 
 the care of her mother-in-law, with full and touching 
 confidence. In spite of the differences of birth and edu- 
 cation, the two minds, both of them eminently noble 
 and disinterested, discovered that they thoroughly 
 understood each other. One of M. Guizot's greatest 
 pleasures, after his second marriage, was in seeing 
 how happy his mother was made by his wife's tender- 
 
V. GUIZOT, AGED FORTY-FIVE TEARM. 
 
VAL-RICHER. 159 
 
 ness. The grandmother was destined to repay more 
 even than she had received. 
 
 The elder son was growing into manhood, more 
 lovable, and more beloved by them all every day. 
 He was especially dear to M. Jean-Jacques Guizot 
 and his wife, Madame Am^lie Vincent, who had no 
 children, and treated their nephew as if he had been 
 their son. They both preceded him to the grave. 
 
 All did their best to console the grief which defied 
 consolation, and to fill up the void caused by the loss 
 of their mother in the lives of the little children. 
 The filial affection which for a long time had united 
 Mademoiselle Rosine de Chabaud Latour to Madame 
 Guizot, now spent itself upon the grandchildren. The 
 tender kindness and more important services, which, 
 from that day forth, she lavished on them, left a 
 deep impression of never-ending gratitude on their 
 hearts and lives : in the somewhat austere atmos- 
 phere produced by death and sorrow, they owed 
 almost all their pleasures to their grandmother's 
 friend. Madame Guizot's incomparable devotion 
 seldom condescended to fondness, nor did she make 
 any allowance for weakness. Young as they were, 
 however, the children never doubted her love or her 
 devotion. 
 
 The calm seriousness of family life was the only 
 thing which at that time could afford any repose to 
 M. Guizot. Ardently engaged in political contests, 
 obliged at the same time to answer every question 
 relating to Ms own department and to support the 
 Government in general, he sought and found no 
 
160 MONSIEUE GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 other consolation. He sometimes accompanied M. 
 and Madame de Broglie into Normandy for a few 
 days, as he was sure of finding in their house the 
 familiar intercourse and the liberty he needed. 
 
 In 1834 he took his son with him. 
 
 ' We reached our haven quite safely, dear mamma,' 
 he wrote ; ' the night was very fresh, and has given 
 me a little cold in my head, nothing worse. I have 
 already been walking for several hom-s, and I shall 
 begin again to-morrow; there are a great many 
 places I want to see again ; I am sorry that I cannot 
 spend more time here ; I should find nothing but 
 memories ; however, they are all I have left in life. 
 To tell the truth, when I was obliged to leave my 
 dear little children, if I had followed my inclination, 
 I should have given up this journey and have stayed 
 with them and with you. Nevertheless, if I were 
 capable of enjoying anything I should enjoy the quiet 
 and liberty that I have here. But what use can I 
 make of leisure and freedom 1 They are but empty 
 vases, one ought to have some happiness to put into 
 them. Work is the only thing that suits me now. 
 
 ' Here are two lines for Henriette, give a kiss to 
 Pauline, and tell her that I would write to her also if 
 she knew how to read. I cannot think how I could 
 quit those poor children, but I left them in your 
 hands, you are and will be everything that is possible 
 to them. What plans she used to make, here in this 
 very place, for Guillaume ! And the activity of 
 her imagination never afi'ected the calmness of her 
 judgment. 
 
VAL-KICHER. 161 
 
 The political struggle became every day more 
 violent ; some symptoms of internal disunion began 
 to appear in the Cabinet, and the anger of the Oppo- 
 sition fell especially upon M. Guizot. His son, who 
 was travelling in Switzerland, heard the rumours 
 with astonishment and indignation ; liis father wrote 
 to him in August, 1835 : — 
 
 ' Keep your sacred wrath, my dear child, for more 
 serious occasions and more worthy adversaries It 
 strikes me as very natural, and I love you all the 
 better for it, but I should be grieved if I saw you 
 wear out your energy in resenting and answering 
 such nonsense. Whoever is able to do a little good 
 in this world must expect to incur a great deal of 
 hatred and give rise to a great many falsehoods We 
 must resign ourselves — not only I, to whom resig- 
 nation is very easy, but all those who love me. That 
 you should not allow things to pass which knowingly 
 and willingly shock recognised moral proprieties is 
 perfectly natm-al ; but I beg of you never to go be- 
 yond — or even to meet — what is necessary ; and, 
 above all, do not be in the least annoyed. In spite 
 of the thousand insulting and absm'd things which 
 are said of me, I really consider myself as one of the 
 least calumniated of the men who have earned some 
 reputation in the world. 
 
 ' You will find, I hope, all the family in good 
 
 case, and as delighted to see you again as you will be 
 
 to come back. Your grandmother is a little unwell 
 
 to-day, bu-t it is a mere trifle. The baths have done 
 
 wonders for Henriette and Pauline. We shall make 
 
 11 
 
162 MONSIEUE GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 you rest yourself here, for I wish you to be strong 
 and full of energy when you begin your new studies. 
 I hope that they will interest you, and that the com- 
 bination of the studies pursued in the Normal School 
 with those in the School of Law will be a relaxation 
 after mathematics ; and as the session does not open 
 until the month of January, we shall have leisure — 
 which I often have not — for a little conversation.' 
 
 The question of the conversion of the funds, 
 brought forward rather indiscreetly by the Ministre 
 cles Finances, M. Humann, decided the fall of the 
 Ministry. On the twenty-second of February, 1836, 
 M. Thiers constructed another Cabinet; MM. de 
 Broglie, Guizot, and Duchatel, were left out of it. 
 As soon as the session was over Madame Guizot 
 took her grandchildren to Broglie. The new 
 Cabinet was already tottering, but M. Guizot was 
 resolved not to precipitate its fall, he had no incli- 
 nation at that time to re-enter public life, and did 
 not think the moment opportune. 
 
 In the month of August he went to visit his 
 friends in the electoral district of Lisieux, which was 
 now separated from that of Pont-1'Eveque ; at the 
 same time he looked about in the neighbourhood to 
 find a nest for his old age, which might, in the 
 meanwhile, be a shelter and head-quarters for the 
 whole family. 
 
 On the tenth he wrote the following letter to his 
 elder daughter, who was then seven years old : — 
 
 ' I am writing to you to-day, my dear little girl, 
 as a precaution, because I am going to-morrow, as 
 
VAL-EICHEE. 163 
 
 soon as I am up, to look at a little estate about three 
 leagues from Lisieux, which is offered for purchase. 
 Perhaps I shall not be back by post time, and I want 
 you not to miss my letter. I hear that it is in a 
 pretty country, the house is an ancient abbey, large, 
 well built, and in tolerable order. There are fine 
 woods all round, a spring close to the house, and 
 a rapid stream running through the fields. Un- 
 fortunately, one has to travel over a league of bad 
 road in order to get there ; however, the estate is 
 much cheaper than if it were close to the highroad. 
 I am also told that a good road leading to the door 
 will some day be made. At any rate I will go and 
 see it. I should be so glad, dear Henriette, if I 
 could take you and your sister with me to-morrow, 
 the drive would amuse instead of boring me. This 
 little estate is called Val-Richer. 
 
 ' I have just come from a dinner of twenty-two 
 people ; this morning I was at a breakfast of sixteen 
 There is no grand breakfast to-morrow, but, to make 
 up for it, I have to attend the distribution of prizes 
 at the college. To-night, after dinner, I played at 
 tric-trac and won everything, but I had much rather 
 have lost at dominoes with you. Now I am going 
 to bed. I hear from my bed the noise of the river 
 (the Touques), which almost encircles this house ; 
 for you must know that I am living in a peninsula. 
 The Touques is much bigger than the Charentonne, 
 and it turns a great many mills and factories of all 
 kinds. 
 
 ' This morning I walked in a beautiful garden, 
 
164 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 called the Jardin de TEtoile. It is not nearly as large 
 as the park at Broglie, but there are magnificent trees 
 in it, among others some poplars two or three times 
 as big as the great beeches at Broglie. It would 
 require a great many — a very great many — arms 
 as long as yours and Pauline's to reach round them. 
 
 ' Grood-bye, my dear good little girl, hearty kisses 
 for you and your sister and little dumpling. To- 
 morrow I intend to write to Pauline ; tell her so from 
 me ; mind you work hard and play a great deal dru'- 
 ing my absence. I expect to see you on the eigh- 
 teenth, that is to say, next Thursday at the latest. 
 Kiss dear grandmamma for me. I do not ask you to 
 love me better than you do already, I know it would 
 be impossible. Good-bye again, I cannot bear to 
 leave you. 
 
 ' Do you attend well to your lessons of arithmetic 
 and English with Madame de Broglie and Mademoi- 
 selle de Pomeret I I shall believe whatever you tell 
 me about this.' 
 
 On the next day M. Giiizot wrote to his son 
 Francois, who had remained in Paris with his aunt, 
 Madame de Meulan : 'You will have had news of me 
 this morning, and understood why I was not able to 
 write to you before. I lead a life of dissipation ; I 
 expect to return to Broglie on the eighteenth. Do 
 not scold me for not writing to you oftener and more 
 at length ; I assure you that I do my best. This 
 morning I presided for two hours over the distribu- 
 tion of prizes at the College. They hoped for a few 
 sentences from me, but I kept an obstinate silence 
 
VAL-RICHER. 165 
 
 — it would have been ridiculous to make an educa- 
 tional speech at Lisieux, which would certainly have 
 opposed the one M. Pelet is just about to deliver in 
 Paris — but I could not refuse to bestow the garlands 
 on the winners. I am going into the country to- 
 morrow. 
 
 * I admire your labours and your aunt Aline's 
 inventions for the library, and I am much obliged to 
 you. I see from hence that both the shelves and 
 the catalogue will be wonderful. Some day I will 
 write to your aunt on the subject. I am very glad 
 that, she is with you. 
 
 ' You will be quite right to take your proposed 
 excursions ; only wait two or three days before you 
 set off for Rouen. It is possible that I may ask you 
 to come to Calvados instead, and look at a little estate 
 which seems to me to unite a great many advantages, 
 and I think that you would like this plan quite as 
 well. I will write to you definitely before I leave. 
 In the meanwhile I entreat Aline to continue writing 
 long and frequent letters ; I delight in knowing 
 every trifle. Letters are very im satisfactory, and 
 yet at the moment we receive them they give us a 
 keen sensation of pleasure. 
 
 ' You are one-and-twenty to-day. This day one- 
 and-twenty years ago I was very happy. How many 
 events have taken place since that time in my life, 
 and how many more in my heart ! But as regards 
 you, my child, my happiness to-day in no way dif- 
 fers from the joy I felt one-and-twenty years ago. 
 On the contrary, it bears it out and justifies it. 
 
166 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IK PEIVATE LIFE. 
 
 I thank you in my own name and in your mother's. 
 Grood-bye, my child. I love you from the bottom 
 of my heart ! ' 
 
 Val-Richer was bought, by common consent, and 
 it became at once the object of intense and general 
 interest to the whole family. M. Guizot confided its 
 arrangement especially to his son. Madame Guizot 
 and her grandchildren were to visit it on their way 
 from Broglie to Paris. 
 
 For the first time, M. Guizot and his family set 
 up their head-quarters at a distance from town : 
 they had hitherto lived but very little in the country. 
 To him, as well as to all of them, it proved the 
 source of ever-new pleasures, of which he never 
 tired, even in his old age. 
 
 In Paris the political situation became every day 
 more critical, and it was his son's duty to give M. 
 Guizot the news and information requisite for the 
 direction of his course of action. 
 
 ' You are both quite wrong in scolding me,' he 
 writes from Broglie, on the twenty -first of August. 
 ' You must have seen that I did not write to you on 
 Thursday, or rather that I did not send off my letter, 
 because I wished to talk to M. de Broglie, who did 
 not arrive until very late in the evening. In a 
 situation like the present, I cannot bear talking 
 ignorantly and at random. Do not be afraid, my 
 dear child, you shall never be without letters ; our 
 separation is too displeasing for me not to fill up 
 the void as well as I can. You have heard of my 
 arrangements for enabling you to come sooner to 
 
VAL-EICHER. 167 
 
 Val-Richer. I will tell you as soon as I receive an 
 answer from Lisieux, but just now it seems to me to 
 be impossible for you to leave Paris, for I must have 
 some one there who can speak for me, and I am as 
 glad not to be there myself as I am pleased that 
 you should be there to talk to all the people who 
 have something to say or to ask. I hope that this 
 urgent crisis will either calm down or resolve itself 
 ' It never entered my head, should I be called on 
 to form a ministry, to insist on its being composed 
 of men of exactly my opinions. I consider political 
 fidelity to be one of the first necessities of parlia- 
 mentary government, and I will never betray it. I 
 also hold that, when you have obtained strength by 
 the support of certain people, they ought, in turn, 
 to derive some advantage from their alliance with 
 you. But I can appreciate the difi'erence of circum- 
 stances, and what they will or will not allow with 
 regard to new combinations. I am also aware of the 
 inconveniences of an exclusive spirit — a spirit of 
 coterie : more than any one, I am its enemy ; it is 
 quite opposed to the spirit of good government. 
 Instead of restricting myself — confining myself 
 within a narrow circle — I shall always try to ex- 
 pand, to bring together all sorts of shades and dif- 
 ferences ; in short, I shall always be ready to accept 
 every useful and honourable alliance. If I am sent 
 for, it will be because I, and the strength which I 
 can rally under me, are wanted ; I shall not separate 
 myself from my adherents, I shall not allow them to 
 disperse : but I, in my turn, shall need strength, 
 
168 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 and I shall collect all that I can find at my disposal. 
 I am not hampered in any way — I have made no 
 engagements — I am perfectly free, and prepared to 
 be as conciliatory as the situation will admit. Only 
 I am determined not to venture rashly, and without 
 gathering together every possible element of success, 
 into the midst of a struggle which will soon be very 
 violent, very arduous, and in which the whole respon- 
 sibility will devolve upon me. Vanity apart, I am 
 convinced that, whatever the new combination may 
 be, if there be one at all, and I be in it, I shall have 
 to be responsible, and to bear the weight of it more 
 than any one else. In the interest of the king and 
 the country, as well as in my own, I ought not, 
 therefore, to weaken myself beforehand, and I shall 
 not do so. For the rest, I entirely agree with you ; 
 I shall await the issue of events here. It must be a 
 strange madness which would impel any one to 
 attack me while I do nothing and say nothing. 
 
 ' Thank M. Mallar for the frequency of his letters, 
 and for the insight they evince. He understands 
 why I do not answer them. I will write to him, 
 however, to-morrow, or on the day after. I wish, 
 too, that you could read every day, or learn through 
 M Mallar the contents of the Temps, Coiirrier, Con- 
 stitutionnel, National, Impartial, and even of the Jour- 
 nal du Commerce : none of these newspapers are taken 
 in here, and I wish to know a little of what they are 
 saying. Good-bye, dear FrauQois. Is there any 
 news of M. Piscatory? of M. Duchatel? of M. de 
 Remusat ? ' 
 
VAL-EICHER. 169 
 
 So far from abating, the crisis became more and 
 more serious, and M. Gruizot was soon recalled to 
 Paris. M. Thiers was determined to support the 
 intervention of France for the suppression of civil 
 war in Spain. The king, Louis-Philippe, was 
 equally determined never to give his consent. On 
 the sixth September the cabinet resigned, and a new 
 ministry was formed by M. Mole, with whom M. 
 Guizot had recently been drawn into a closer inti- 
 macy than in former days. The Due de Broglie 
 was not in the cabinet : it was the first time that 
 M. Guizot had taken office without the most intimate 
 of his friends, and it was a bitter disappointment to 
 him. He pressed the nomination of M. Gasparin to 
 the Home Ofiice, and of M. Duchatel to the Ex- 
 chequer ; M. de Remusat was appointed under-sec- 
 retary of state at the Home Office. For himself, 
 M. Guizot chose to resume the portfolio of Public 
 Instruction, and to continue the work he had begun. 
 
 It was, perhaps, rather too soon to resume the 
 helm of government, the new combinations might 
 lead to great difficulties, and my father and his 
 family were very anxious. 
 
 Although very young, Francois Guizot possessed 
 fine tact and upright judgment, and took an active 
 but unobtrusive part in politics. He had kept his 
 father informed as to all that was going on during his 
 absence, and he now performed the same office for 
 his grandmother, who remained with the children at 
 Broglie. 
 
 On the eleventh September he wrote : — 
 
170 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 ' My dear Grandmother, — You are right in 
 thinking that for my own sake I am not charmed 
 with your resolution to spend another fortnight at 
 Broghe, but I quite appreciate the reasons which 
 keep you there. I think them very wise, and your 
 decision all the more meritorious that I do not doubt 
 your wish to return to Paris. Aunt Aline and I will 
 wait, therefore, for another fortnight before we go to 
 fetch you, and take you to Val-Richer ; and then 
 we will all return together to this house, which has 
 during the interregnum felt M. Pelet's * influence. 
 If we had waited another six months, we should have 
 found it entirely repainted from top to bottom, the 
 furniture renewed, and the garden filled with rare 
 flowers. Unfortunately we have taken it by surprise 
 in the midst of the improvements, and the work is 
 only half done. My father's room is entirely new, at 
 least as far as the paper is concerned. The children's 
 has been repainted, and has a new looking-glass in- 
 stead of the cracked one in which Rose and Jeannette 
 used to look at themselves in turns, with their faces 
 cut in half by the crack. But the masterpiece is my 
 room. As I have inherited it from Madame Pelet — 
 the person of taste in the house — my love for beauty 
 is entirely satisfied by its arrangements, and it is full 
 of little refinements which a barbarian like me would 
 never have thought of, and which were no doubt 
 delicate attentions of the late minister to his wife. 
 I ought to add, that not only do I owe gratitude to 
 
 * The Minister of Public Instruction who followed M. Guizot. 
 
VAL-KICHER. 171 
 
 Madame Pelet for the arrangements of my room, but 
 that she has left in this house, and among the ser- 
 vants, a great reputation for kindness, gentleness, 
 and good temper. 
 
 'As to politics, as far as we can judge in the 
 absence of the Chambers and in the general empti- 
 ness of Paris, the Ministry has produced a good im- 
 pression, and this impression grows stronger every 
 day. The choice of M. Delessert as Prefect of Police, 
 followed by his acceptance of office, which M. Thiers 
 had never been able to obtain, was both skilful and 
 fortunate : he unites the precise qualities which please 
 the Parisians and the National Guard ; he is known 
 to be an honest, and at the same time a brave and 
 sensible man, whose intrepidity on several occasions 
 has gained the hearts of the young and ardent portion 
 of the population. His personal integrity, joined to 
 the well-known name and high reputation of his 
 family, who are as respectable as they are respected, 
 make him quite a phenomenon as the head of the 
 police, and an additional guarantee for the cabinet's 
 honesty in the estimation of the chief bourgeoisie of 
 Paris. M. de Remusat, although less known, is a 
 still more useful appointment. It is a good thing for 
 the Government as well as for himself You know 
 his worth, and how circumstances stronger even than 
 his will are likely to make him bring to the surface 
 all the rare talents, the courage, intelligence, and 
 cleverness which nature has treasured up in his mind. 
 This is the first time that he has had the opportunity 
 of coming forward in the way he likes. He has had 
 
172 MOIfSIETJR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 the sense to seize it, and everybody predicts that he 
 will succeed. 
 
 ' I hope you consider this a sufficiently detailed 
 bulletin. I know that you wished for one ; and I re- 
 peat, setting aside all the illusions of youth, the be- 
 ginning of this ministry looks much better to me here 
 than it seems to you at a distance. There is earnest- 
 ness without anxiety, enthusiasm without presump- 
 tion; finally, all our friends have advanced from 
 secondary places to the front, and they are determined, 
 I think, to show that they are worthy of their posi- 
 tion. One must own, too, that honest men and high 
 reputations are worth having, and their reign has 
 begun : it will not continue without shocks and in- 
 terruptions, but it will grow and strengthen every 
 day. The battle is no longer being fought between 
 honest men and rascals ; it is between honest men 
 and rogues who are ashamed of themselves, and who 
 assume the name and appearance of honesty as well 
 as they can. That they feel the want of it, and that 
 they are obliged to seem honest in order to have a 
 chance of doing mischief under the shelter of their 
 names or their characters, is a decided improvement. 
 The battle will continue longer, but it will be less 
 dangerous, less violent than the last; and if the 
 country be sometimes disturbed, it will not be revo- 
 lutionized, as under the other system.' 
 
 In the midst of these political affairs, which soon 
 became difficult and intricate, it was a great rest, 
 and a subject of constant and delightful interest, 
 to begin the alterations and arrangements in the 
 
VAL-KICHEE. 173 
 
 house and gardens of the newly-bought estate, Val- 
 Richer. The house was large ; it might be made 
 comfortable and agreeable ; but the interior arrange- 
 ments were complicated, and very costly. As M. 
 Guizot was not able to see to them himself, he sent 
 his son, with M. Meurand, one of Francois' greatest 
 friends. The letters of the minister — who was 
 harassed at that time by the stormy discussions in the 
 Chambers, and the attempt of Prince Louis Napoleon 
 on the garrison of Strasbourg — were full of the most 
 minute questions and answers on every detail con- 
 nected with the work his son was superintending. 
 On the twentieth of October, 1836, he writes : — 
 ' My dear Francois, — As we have enough of it, 
 we must pave the dining-floor with the stone from 
 Caen. I quite approve of this piece of economy, all 
 the more as a pavement of this kind will be as suit- 
 able there as a wooden floor. With regard to the 
 wainscot, we must certainly restore it where it has 
 decayed. I hold to economy, but also to solidity. 
 When once we have arranged our house, we must 
 not have to begin again. 
 
 ' As to the road, between ourselves I advise you 
 to be cautious : it is of importance that we should not 
 be committed to an excessive expense. My natural 
 inclination was to think that the reparation of the 
 bye-road which leads from La Boissiere to Cam- 
 bremer, and passes the end of Val-Richer, was the 
 simplest and most obvious plan. I mean the one of 
 which the repairs have just been voted by the com- 
 mune of S. Ouen. But I have not seen enough of the 
 
174 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PEIVATE LIFE. 
 
 place, or discussed the matter sufficiently, to have an 
 opinion on this subject. I will trust to what you and 
 our friends decide upon. You must bear in mind, 
 however, that personal interests are very much con- 
 cerned, that each one wants the road made in the 
 way that will suit him best ; and we must take care 
 that they do not make use of us while they appear 
 to want to be of use to us. 
 
 ' Have you paid attention to the pipes ? I ar- 
 ranged about them with M. Cocagne ; this seems to 
 me to be urgent, especially as winter is coming on. 
 
 ' Have you ordered the floor for my study on the 
 first story 1 
 
 * Try to settle and to order beforehand all that 
 Marin will have to do in the winter. As we take 
 him into our service, we must employ his time and 
 his abilities. Some one suggested that it would be a 
 good thing to enlarge the nursery for young trees, 
 and that he would do this well. Will you see to 
 this ? What we have to fear is, that during our fre- 
 quent absences very little will be done. Take every 
 precaution against this. The best way is to perfectly 
 acquaint yourself with all that ought and can be done, 
 so as to be able to give orders and superintend the 
 work, even from a distance. 
 
 ' I have said nothing about politics ; they are not 
 going on badly. Switzerland is the question which 
 troubles me most. We have to treat there with the 
 mob, which is neither agreeable nor easy. I admire 
 more and more the saying of Pascal : " Numbers 
 without unity produce confusion, unity without 
 
DEATH OF FRANCOIS GUIZOT. 175 
 
 numbers becomes tyranny." This is the real motto 
 for a Constitutional Government. 
 
 ' Farewell, my dear child. Meurand shall stay 
 with you during the ten or eleven days you ask for. 
 Amuse yourselves as much as you can and set people 
 to work. But I shall be charmed to see you back 
 again ; I miss you more than I can tell. Nothing 
 rests or pleases me so much as a perfectly true and 
 frank conversation with some one I love.' 
 
 Franqois Guizot caught cold on the journey home 
 from Val-Richer in the beginning of November. 
 Neither he nor any one else paid any attention to his 
 indisposition. He generally enjoyed good health, he 
 was tall and handsome, and just twenty-one years of 
 age. Soon, however, pleurisy declared itself, and in 
 spite of the most tender and assiduous care the evil 
 continued to gain ground. Scarcely two months had 
 elapsed since the death of Madame Jean-Jacques 
 G-uizot, who survived her husband for two years. 
 Fran9ois' two friends,* M. Meurand and M. B^hier, 
 relieved each other at his bedside. 
 
 In the night of the fifteenth of February, 1837, the 
 elder son — the support and hope of the whole family 
 — expired without a struggle. A few hours after 
 his father had closed his eyes, M. Guizot wrote to 
 Madame de Broglie : — 
 
 * Francois Guizot's two friends justified his esteem and affec- 
 tion. M. Meurand Ijecame Director of the communal affairs at the 
 Ministere des Affaires Etrangeres, and M. Behier was one of the 
 most eminent physicians of his day. They hoth remained tenderly 
 attached to M. Guizot. 
 
176 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 ' Dear Friend, — He has just left me. I was in 
 bed when I heard his last sigh; I reached him in time 
 for him to see me once more. He has gone to join 
 his mother. He looked at me as he left me ; his 
 countenance was wasted, but so calm ! May God 
 support me as much as He tries me ! When my 
 turn comes I shall eagerly lay me down to rest, for 
 I am very weary.' 
 
 Those who saw it never forgot the face of the 
 father when following his son's coffin to its last home. 
 On his return to the desolate house, in which his 
 three little children lay sick, he threw himself upon 
 his elder daughter's bed, embraced her tenderly, and 
 whispered in a tone which still vibrates in her ear, 
 ' I have now no one but you.' The child was only 
 eight years old. 
 
 Political embarrassments made the weight of M. 
 Guizot's personal sorrow still more overwhelming. 
 He was obliged to defend in the Chambers his pro- 
 posed law for secondary education, the Opposition 
 was becoming every day more violent, and the 
 measures of the Government were entirely defeated. 
 These parliamentary checks caused the dissolution of 
 the Cabinet. At one time M. Guizot, who was sent 
 for by the King, hoped to be able to reconstruct the 
 Ministry of the eleventh of October, but M. Thiers 
 refused to join it. M. Guizot and 'his friends resigned 
 on the fifteenth of April, 1837, leaving to M. MoU 
 the task of forming a conciliatory Cabinet. A few 
 days before, M. Guizot addi-essed the Chamber in 
 these words : — 
 
DEATH OF FRANCOIS GUIZOT. 177 
 
 'I have already, in the course of my life, been 
 called upon several times to take up and lay down 
 the reins of power, and as regards myself personally, 
 I am profoundly indifferent to these political vicissi- 
 tudes. The only interest I have in them is that of 
 the public — the interest of the cause to which I be- 
 long and which I have the honour of supporting. 
 You are well aware, gentlemen, that it has pleased 
 God to visit me with joys and sorrows which render 
 the heart cold and indifferent to every other species 
 of pleasure or of pain.' 
 
 As soon as the session was over, M. Grtiizot went 
 to Val-Richer ; he wrote to the Duchesse de Broglie, 
 who had been for some weeks in Switzerland : — 
 
 'Deak Friend, — I know that you are comfortably 
 settled, but this is not enough for me ; how are you? 
 and how is Albert ? I delig-ht in this fine weather for 
 his sake ; it seems to me that the heat must be good 
 for him ; only take care that he does not tire himself 
 too much among the mountains. He may tire him- 
 self as much by rushing about in the open air as by 
 sedentary work, and at his age neither the one sort of 
 fatigue nor the other is noticed. Pray give me some 
 particulars as to his health and yours also. You 
 seemed to me to be a little below par when you 
 started. Was the cause mental or physical ? I could 
 not tell, for it is a long time since we have talked 
 much together. I know of no reason for your being 
 out of spirits, but I noticed the fact. 
 
 'We go to-morrow to Val-Richer, to the great 
 joy of the whole family, from my mother down to 
 
 12 
 
1.78 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 Guillaume. I cannot say that I feel very joyful, I 
 intended Val-Richer for my son; he took a great 
 fancy to it. I go thither without any bitter feeling, 
 on the contrary, I love the shadow of those I have 
 lost, but there is no joy in this. Franqois was my 
 future. Not one of my childi-en is yet, or can ever 
 become, what he would have been. Besides his 
 personal chami, Francois had a part in my whole 
 life ; there was not one interest, affection, or remem- 
 brance in the past, to which he was a stranger ; with 
 him there were no broken tln-eads, no gaps, no 
 silence. Even Henriette will never be able to give 
 me all this. And then if you knew the instances of 
 tender sympathy and care which I have found out, 
 which I am always finding out, on his part ! He 
 watched over me as a secret guardian, attentive to 
 my least requirements, to my smallest troubles — 
 public or private. And so simply, so modestly, al- 
 though with so much vivacity and independence ! 
 Oh, my dear friend, what happiness, what a privilege 
 to have possessed for a short time such exquisite 
 beings, but what a void after their departure ! ' 
 
 On his return to Paris, M. Guizot wrote to M. de 
 Barante : — 
 
 ' My dear friend, I did not write to you earlier, 
 I had too much to say. Above all, my heart was so 
 broken, that I did nothing, and said nothing for a 
 long time that I could help. It was as much as I 
 could manage to do what was absolutely necessary. 
 Three months of country life have restored me a 
 little. I am returning into the vortex. 
 
 ' What is going to happen 1 I cannot tell, and 
 
DEATH OF FRA.NCOIS GUIZOT. 179 
 
 I liope nothing will happen. I consider the present 
 state of affairs as a sort of parenthesis, it is a good 
 thing, and good, I think, for all parties that it should 
 be a long one. The session will begin with great dis- 
 trust and great reserve on all sides ; caution is the 
 reigning sentinaent now-a-days. To have no opinion, 
 no will, not to compromise oneself for anything or 
 anybody, is to be wise — a false wisdom, as you 
 know, and one which suits this form of government 
 less than any other. Nevertheless it has its turn. I 
 do not know, however, why I tell you all this. You 
 are coming, we shall talk it over, and although you 
 will be torn in several directions, we shall converse 
 freely and sincerely. 
 
 ' My health is good, my three little children are 
 well also. Their trip to the country and their sea- 
 baths have agreed with them wonderfully. Do you 
 know what it is to have lost all feeling of secm-ity 1 
 At one time I felt safe, I had by my side one who 
 would have been a father to my little children. I 
 should have died in peace, I can do so no longer.' 
 
 Security never again came back to my father. He 
 never lost the impression produced by the sudden 
 and painful blows which, one after another, had been 
 inflicted on him. He never, however, would admit 
 the thought that the greatest happiness life affords 
 could be purchased too dearly, even at the price of 
 the most cruel sufferings ; and he never ceased to 
 thank God for having bestowed on him gifts of such 
 rare value, and which had been so exquisitely en- 
 joyed by him. 
 
 He says in his Memoirs : — 
 
180 MONSIEUE GUIZOT IN PEIVATE LIFE. 
 
 ' I do not agree with Dante, when he says : — 
 
 " Kessun maggior dolore 
 Che rioordarsi del tempo felice 
 Nella miseria . . . ." 
 
 " There is no grief more bitter than the memory of 
 happy days, when we are in misfortune." 
 
 'On the contrary, in my opinion a great happiness 
 resembles a bright light, whose rays are still reflected 
 on spaces which it no longer illuminates ; and when 
 heaven and time have allayed the first rebellious 
 feelings of the heart against misfortune, we are able 
 to tvu'n round and enjoy once more the contemplation 
 of the lost blessings that were ours in the past.' 
 
 M. Guizot always appreciated, at their real value, 
 and contemplated, in their true light, the treasures 
 which were bestowed on him. 
 
 ' Two noble women occupied the first place in my 
 life,' he wrote ; '■ there were never five minutes of 
 romance between us. I despise romance ; it pretends 
 to surpass, and yet it is far below, reality. True love, 
 sincere admiration, real devotion, are very uncom- 
 mon ; and this is why those who have never experi- 
 enced them call these feelings romantic. They are not 
 so at all ; on the contrary, where they really exist, they 
 are all that is most simple, natural, and practical. 
 We must not make the mistake of taking for realities 
 the fancies which have only usiirped their names. The 
 aerolites passing through the air are also called stars ; 
 but they are not really the same, and the stars con- 
 tinue to give their pure and steady light, regardless 
 of the delusive gleams which shoot and shine for a 
 moment in the inferior regions of the atmosphere.' 
 
l.f^OfijAI 
 
 .'f,-:i)lSiiCM3. St. 
 
 LE OOMTE MOLE. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 1837-40. 
 
 DEATH OP THE DUCHESSE DE BROGLIE LETTERS TO 
 
 HIS CHILDREN. 
 
 Three years elapsed before M. Gruizot again took 
 an active part in the administration. He supported 
 the ministry of M. MoM at first, while trying to 
 liberalise it. In the session of 1838-9, he, however, 
 joined the Opposition, and allied himself with the 
 Left. The Conservative party long continued to 
 feel the temporary dislocation consequent on the 
 coalition. 
 
 In this interval of comparative freedom, M. Gruizot 
 wrote with great pleasure the Life of Washington, 
 ' of all great men, the happiest and most virtuous.' * 
 Every year brought him, for a few months, to Val- 
 Richer. 
 
 ' Happiness, public life, solitude,' he wrote, 'it is 
 blasphemy to put these three together; happiness 
 ought never to be mentioned, except by itself Noth- 
 ing is at all like it. But if one has not happiness, 
 and is not engaged in politics, I prefer solitude to 
 
 * See Ms Etude sur Washington, 
 
182 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PEIVATE LIFE. 
 
 idle gossip. I know that one could not bear solitude 
 for long; that the mind would soon exhaust itself 
 by living at its own expense, and on itself But to 
 finish the day alone, to walk for a couple of hours 
 looking at nothing, saying nothing; hearing only 
 the sound of our own steps ; listening only to the 
 voice within us, which speaks to us of our past or 
 our future — this has its charm. Even in public 
 life, some solitude is good. For a little while in each 
 day one ought to shake off every yoke, to look 
 within, to allow one's ideas to roam with the care- 
 less liberty which alone preserves originality and 
 elevation of thought. Governing is not like plough- 
 ing. One gets stupified if one always has the hand 
 on the plough, and the eye on the furrow. It is a 
 great vice of our political organization in France, that 
 our public men are condemned to such incessant 
 work, such an absolute want of leisure. Such a life 
 makes one feel as if one were turning into a machine, 
 and one becomes unable to execute one's task, be- 
 cause it has been impossible to lay it down and for- 
 get it from time to time.' 
 
 A new sorrow, which brought back all the old 
 grief, fell upon M. Guizot and his family in 1838 
 He had been spending, as had long been his annual 
 custom, some weeks at Broglie, accompanied by his 
 mother and his children. M. and Madame de Broglie 
 were in then- turn to visit, for the first time, Val- 
 Eicher. Madame de Broglie went beforehand to 
 Paris to be present at the distribution of prizes 
 awarded at the great examination, in which her son 
 
DEATH OF THE DUCHESSE DE BROGLIE. 183 
 
 had obtained great success. Madame Guizot was 
 not to leave Broglie until the next day. In the 
 evening, Madame de Broglie went into the room 
 where the children slept, and kissed them. They 
 never forgot the look of tenderness in her heavenly 
 eyes, which seemed to penetrate into another world. 
 She returned, happy and proud of her son's prizes, 
 to Broglie. In the middle of September she was 
 attacked by brain-fever ; during her illness she re- 
 peated several times, ' I don't care, this shall not 
 prevent my going to Val-Richer.' She died on the 
 twenty-second. Her husband wrote to M. Guizot: — 
 
 * You have lost an excellent friend, and I all my 
 share of happiness in this world.' 
 
 The day on which she was to have arrived at Val- 
 Richer was the day of her funeral. She had loved 
 all those whom M. Guizot had loved and lost. 
 
 ' During twenty years her friendship had been 
 perfectly delightful to me in my happiness, and a 
 still greater consolation in my sorrow,' he writes in 
 his Memoirs. ' She was one of the most noble, rare, 
 and charming creatures, this world has ever seen ; 
 and I can say nothing of her more appropriate than 
 these words of St. Simon, when deploring the loss of 
 the Duke of Burgundy, " May it j)lease Grod's mercy 
 that I be permitted to see her eternally in that world 
 to which His Almighty Goodness has, no doubt, 
 called her." ' 
 
 In 1839, M. Guizot spent three days at Fontaine- 
 bleau. He had been present in June, 1837, at the 
 
184 MONSIEUE GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 marriage of the Duke of Orleans to Princess Helea 
 of MecHenburg-Schwerin, and in the following Sep- 
 tember he was invited to Compiegne, where the 
 Prince was in command of the camp ; on his return 
 he wrote to Madame Guizot : — 
 
 ' I enjoyed my visit to Compiegne very much. 
 It was very quiet, there were no manoeuvres or 
 fatiguing excursions. "We took a beautiful drive 
 of five hours in the forest — the Duchess of Orleans, 
 the Orand Duchess of Mecklenburg, the Duke of 
 Orleans, and I — all in the same carriage. There was 
 plenty of opportunity for talking, and we made such 
 a good use of it, that when I came back my throat 
 was quite sore. But the time when I had most con- 
 versation with the Duchess was at dinner. On the 
 second day, I was put next to her. She is really 
 clever, very clever ; her mind is earnest, full of ele- 
 vated, moral feeling, joined with a lively imagination, 
 which shows itself in the animated expression of her 
 eyes, and in her ready emotion — always, however, 
 restrained within the bounds of a proper reserve and 
 dignity. She is, perhaps, too highly educated. I 
 hope she will forget a little of what she has learned 
 from books. She certainly pleased me very much — 
 entirely, sincerely, and in the right way ; and I 
 think she liked talking to me, for when she heard 
 that I was to leave half a day earlier, she immedi- 
 ately manifested her regret in a manner that was 
 evidently sincere. I had a great deal of conversation 
 also with the Duke, especially on his proposed ex- 
 pedition to Constantine, and his motives for giving 
 
LETTERS TO HIS CHILDEEN. 185 
 
 it up, after it had been decided that he might be 
 allowed to go thither. I praised him highly for 
 giving it up. He will stay with the Duchess at 
 Compi^gne until the beginning of October. The 
 King and Queen will join them between the twen- 
 tieth and twenty-fifth of this month. 
 
 ' The general election is still fixed for the begin- 
 ning of November. I am told that the king contin- 
 ues to reserve the right of saying no if Don Carlos 
 comes to Madrid or the gates of Madrid ; and I think 
 that, in this case, he will do rightly. To tell the 
 truth, the aifair has advanced so far that it is very 
 difficult to help going forward with it to the end. 
 There are some things which are done by talking 
 about them. At Compiegne I saw Ernest de Cha- 
 baud,* just come from Africa, and in excellent health. 
 We talked a good deal to each other. His conver- 
 sation is very agreeable ; the Duke of Orleans thinks 
 so, as well as myself 
 
 From Fontainebleau M. Gruizot wrote to his elder 
 daughter on the eighth of October, 1839 : — 
 
 ' I am lodged in a charming apartment on the 
 ground-floor opening into the garden in the Cour 
 des Princes, an apartment in which strange scenes 
 have been acted. When I arrived yesterday I moved 
 my dressing-table, which stood in the bow of a large 
 window, and I found behind it this inscription : " It 
 was near this window that Monaldeschi was killed 
 
 * The Commandant E. de Chabaud was at that time in attend- 
 ance on the Duke of Orleans. The sad honour of commanding the 
 Engineers at the siege of Paris was in store for him. 
 
186 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 by tlie order of Christina, Queen of Sweden, on the 
 tenth of November, 1657." Be happy, the same 
 thing will not occur to me. 
 
 ' There are a great many people here ; yesterday 
 there were seventy or eighty people at dinner, drawn 
 from every quarter of the globe. Among them I 
 found a young Secretary of Legation, M. Dubois de 
 Saligny, whom I appointed a few years ago, and who 
 has just arrived from Texas. Do you know what 
 Texas is and where it is 1 It is a new nation which 
 is rising up in America, between Mexico and the 
 United States. Its capital is a town which as yet 
 has no existence, on the borders of Colorado ; and 
 its President, who is like a king, set off with his 
 ministers a few weeks ago, carrying his tent and 
 provisions, to live on the banks of the river, and 
 build his own house. A great many years and many 
 events must pass before he will be as well lodged as 
 the King of France at Fontainebleau.' 
 
 Politics often called M. Guizot to Paris. M. 
 Mold's Ministry fell in the beginning of the year, and 
 was succeeded on the twelfth of May, 1839, by a 
 Cabinet which contained several of M. Guizot's per- 
 sonal friends, of whom M. Duchatel was the chief 
 The coalition had in vain tried to hold together as a 
 distinct party and to form a Cabinet ; the vice of its 
 origin showed itself conspicuously, and the Ministe- 
 rial crisis lasted so long that recourse was had to a 
 Provisional Cabinet. The riot on the twelfth of May 
 put an end to this unsatisfactory condition. 
 
4i|ifp'»ii'i'f 
 
 
 '^h 
 
 p' 
 
 ■ III 
 
 ^WJi 
 
LETTERS TO HIS CHILDEEN. 187 
 
 M. Guizot stoutly supported the new Ministry. 
 He wrote every day to his mother and children, who 
 went before him to Val-Richer ; superintending his 
 children's education, and, although at a distance, 
 continuing the lessons which they were so proud of 
 receiving from him when he was with them. 
 
 ' My dear Henriette,' he wrote on the third of 
 June, ' I must quarrel with you again about your 
 punctuation ; there is not any, or scarcely any, in 
 your letters. The sentences follow each other with- 
 out any distinction or separation, like words in the 
 same sentence. If this had no other inconvenience 
 than that of continually causing a certain amount of 
 embarrassment and astonishment in the reader, it 
 would be a sufficient reason for your curing your- 
 self and learning to punctuate like other people. 
 But there is another and still more important reason 
 which you will, I am sure, acknowledge. You are 
 very ready, you understand and you execute quickly, 
 and as soon as you have understood or finished any- 
 thing, you do not stop for an instant, you like to 
 pass on at once to something else ; this is why you 
 put no stops. Every stop — comma, or any other 
 — marks a rest for the mind, a pause which is more 
 or less long, a thought finished or suspended, and 
 separated by a sign from the rest. You suppress 
 these rests, these pauses ; you write as water runs 
 and as arrows fly. This is absm'd, for the thoughts 
 one expresses, the things one speaks of in a letter 
 are not all absolutely alike and blended together 
 like drops of water. There are differences and dis- 
 
188 MO]S"SIEUE GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 tances between them — more or less wide, but all 
 real — and the object of punctuation is to mark these 
 differences and distances. It is absurd in you, there- 
 fore, to suppress these signs ; in so doing you sup- 
 press the natural distances and differences that exist 
 in ideas as well as in things. The consequence is 
 that one feels confused and annoyed in reading your 
 letters ; the absence of stops gives a certain false 
 uniformity to all the things you say, and deprives 
 them of their relative position and character by pre- 
 senting them all at once, and as if exactly alike, or 
 at least related to each other ! 
 
 ' But here is another still more serious objection. 
 Quickness, my child, is a precious quality. There 
 are so many things to be learnt, seen, and done in 
 life, and we have so little time to give to them, that 
 you are very fortunate to have received from God 
 these gifts of rapid execution and comprehension 
 which enable you to do and to understand a great 
 deal in a short time, and consequently to acquit 
 yourself better of yotir task in life. But every ad- 
 vantage has a corresponding disadvantage, which 
 we must take care to avoid. If I were speaking of 
 mental qualities I should say that very energetic 
 people, are often wanting in gentleness ; and very 
 brave people, in prudence. Either Pascal or La 
 BruySre, I cannot remember which, says some- 
 where : "A virtue does not attain its full merit and 
 value unless it is accompanied by the opposite vir- 
 tue. To firmness must be added gentleness and to 
 gentleness energy. The good and the beautiful 
 
LETTEES TO HIS CHILDREN. 189 
 
 must be complete, estimable, and admirable in every 
 respect." 
 
 ' That which is true with regard to moral quali- 
 ties, my dear child, is equally true respecting in- 
 tellectual qualities. A talent ought not to be the 
 germ of a defect. Now, rapid comprehension may 
 produce inattention : when one understands easily 
 one does not always take the trouble to understand 
 perfectly ; when one runs very fast, one does not 
 look about, and consequently one does not see all 
 that is to be seen and noticed on the road. Precisely 
 because you understand so easily and quickly you 
 must force yourself to pause, to examine everything 
 with care, and not to be satisfied with what strikes 
 you at first sight. Otherwise a great deal will escape 
 you — you will know and do nothing perfectly. And 
 a great and natural talent will turn into an annoy- 
 ing imperfection. 
 
 ' This is a very long letter, dear Henrietta, but 
 you know that I like chatting with you. And, 
 besides, it is impossible to correct a fault until one 
 thoroughly understands whence it arises and what it 
 leads to. Make a resolution never to send ofi" a letter 
 without reading it carefully over, exclusively with 
 regard to punctuation. When once you have acquired 
 the habit you will no longer need to take this care, 
 and you will some day find that the habit of punctu- 
 ation has made you attentive.' 
 
 A few days later he writes : — 
 
 ' My dear child, you will think me very tiresome, 
 but, pray, do not tlu'ow such a quantity of commas 
 
190 MONSIEITE GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 at my head. You crush me with them, as the Ro- 
 mans crushed poor Tatia with their shields. " Grand- 
 mamma would not, let us go to the nursery garden, 
 because, it was too hot. We both, did very well, 
 our piano lessons ; I did well, my writing lesson." 
 Wliat reason can you give me in favour of those I 
 have marked 1 Evidently there was no suspension 
 or interval between the things or the ideas expressed ; 
 on the contrary, they all hold closely together, and 
 one must pass without stopping from the one to the 
 other. Think of what you are doing, think whether 
 you ought or ought not to put a comma, just as you 
 would consider whether you should take one road or 
 another when you wish to go somewhere. When 
 you want to visit the swans you do not go out by 
 way of the laundry. Why ? Because you think of 
 what you are about. Take the same trouble in 
 everything. Our intelligence is given us in order to 
 think of what we are doing, not to spare us the 
 trouble of thinking. 
 
 ' Now I come to what will please you. I shall 
 start to-morrow by the mail, I have taken my place ; 
 I shall, therefore, reach you early on Friday morn- 
 ing. It will make me very happy to see you again, 
 my dear children, and I hope you will be very happy 
 also. 
 
 ' Paris is very quiet. Yesterday we had, in front 
 of the Chambers, not a disturbance, but the shadow 
 of one. Seven or eight hundred people collected in 
 the Place Louis XV. They wanted to march to the 
 Chambers to demand the abolition of capital punish- 
 
LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. 191 
 
 ment. The charter .forbids petitions to be brought 
 to the Chambers in person. They were told to go 
 home. They refused. A squadron of the Municipal 
 Guard advanced at a rapid trot, and instantly the 
 crowd dispersed. One of the guards took the standard- 
 bearer, tlu"ew him like a sack of wheat across his 
 horse, and carried him to the guard-house of the 
 Chambers. All was so entirely clear and quiet at 
 four o'clock that I went to dine at Chatenay. I came 
 back at eleven o'clock last night. Paris was per- 
 fectly tranquil, and is so again this morning.' 
 
 M. Guizot had no wish to change the busy, simple, 
 and regular life that his children led under the direc- 
 tion of their grandmother. Their natural gaiety and 
 tender love for each other were enough to enliven the 
 somewhat austere rule of Madame Guizot. It was to 
 their father that these youthful minds owed all the 
 excitement and variety which they needed. He took 
 an interest in everything they did ; he elevated, 
 settled, and charmed their minds. No reward was 
 equal to his praise. 
 
 ' Your letter is very nicely written, my dear little 
 Pauline,' he says on the sixth of September to his 
 yotinger daughter, ' in a more running hand, and 
 straighter than usual. Henriette's also was very 
 well written. But you shoiild not use such pale ink. 
 Grandmamma has kept up the old habit of making 
 ink with water. Do you know that grandmamma, 
 at her age, writes more steadily than you do ? 
 
 ' I am delighted to hear that you did your thi-ee 
 lessons so well ; but I am not astonished at it, my 
 
192 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 dear little girl, you generally do them very nicely ; 
 everybody does who takes a great deal of pains. I 
 hope that dear Guillatime will do so some day, he 
 is a great way off from it now. 
 
 ' If yon were here, my children, you would hear 
 nothing talked of but Van Amburgh, and his mar- 
 vellous power over lions, tigers, panthers, &c. He 
 lives among them, lies on their backs, lets them 
 climb over him, caresses them, beats them ; some- 
 times he brings them a little lamb, shows it to them, 
 lets them go close to it and lick it, and yet they do 
 not dare to hurt it. The other day, when Van Am- 
 burgh had gone out, canying the lamb with him, the 
 lion suddenly broke into a rage, and threw himself, 
 roaring, against the door, which Van Amburgh had 
 just closed. Van Amburgh came back at once, whip 
 in hand, and gave two or three cuts to the lion, 
 which lay down, and caressed his feet. I shall not, 
 however, take you to this sight' 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 1840. 
 
 EMBASSY IN ENGLAND INTEREST IN 
 
 VAL-EICHEE. 
 
 It was a sad blow to M. Guizot's children when the 
 Ministry offered the post of ambassador to the Court 
 of St. James to their father. The Eastern Question, 
 which was becoming more and more complicated, 
 tln^eatened to entail great European difficulties : he 
 was thought likely to obtain great influence in 
 England, and, moreover, the Cabinet were often 
 puzzled how to treat an ally who might again be- 
 come their chief 
 
 The King ratified the appointment, but not with- 
 out some hesitation. 
 
 M. Guizot accepted the mission, and on the twen- 
 tieth of February, 1840, he started for London, 
 leaving his mother and children, who were to join 
 him later on, in Paris. His carriage was in the court 
 of his little house in the street La Ville-l'Eveque : he 
 had already got into it, but he came out again, and 
 went into his house to embrace once more those he 
 left behind. 
 
 18 
 
194 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 They were not reunited so soon as they had 
 hoped. Little Pauline fell ill. She continued tired 
 and fragile, in spite of the eager vivacity which was 
 calculated to give a false idea of her strength. M. 
 Guizot was uneasy as to the effect of a London life 
 on his children ; he dreaded the journey for them 
 and for his mother — at that time it was much more 
 difficult than it is now. Politics were assuming a 
 serious aspect, and he was not sure of remaining 
 long at his post. The Ministry of the twelfth of May 
 had been replaced by a new cabinet, at the head of 
 which was M. Thiers. M. Guizot decided to stay in 
 England ; biit differences might arise and recall him 
 to France. 
 
 On the twenty-sixth of April, 1840, he wrote to 
 Madame Guizot : — 
 
 ' Dear Mother, — For all . sorts of reasons — 
 political and economical, of health and of business, 
 but especially on account of those two delicate 
 children, about whom I am more anxious than I 
 can say — I think decidedly that we must resign 
 ourselves, you and I, to make another sacrifice. It is 
 very painful — more than I can tell you — and it will 
 be still more painful to you. But the more I think 
 of it, the more I am convinced that good sense and 
 duty — my duty to my children — demand it. A 
 sentence in one of your letters has disturbed me a 
 little. You seemed to me to be a little agitated your- 
 self by the responsibility of li\'ing alone and away 
 from me, burdened by the care of my children's 
 health and welfai'e. Dear mother, I quite understand 
 

 t^'h'HAr. 
 
 
 M. THIERS. 
 
EMBASSY IN ENGLAND. 195 
 
 this, and I wish I could dehver you from it, — it 
 would be a comfort and a relief for us both — but 
 as Providence has laid this burden upon us, we must 
 accept it. You must say to yourself over and over 
 again that it is impossible to have a more entire 
 confidence than I have in you in every respect, as 
 regards the health, as well as the education, of the 
 children. With the assiduous care of B6hier, who 
 would come instantly to Val- Richer if you sent for 
 him, with the help of Rosine, surrounded as you are 
 both at Paris and at Lisieux by friends and by every- 
 thing you can want, I assure you I am as easy as I 
 can possibly be at a distance. It is a very imperfect, 
 melancholy sort of easiness, however. I felt it during 
 Pauline's last indisposition. It never entered my 
 head to doubt your doing, and having done, every- 
 thing that was right and necessary. This is all I can 
 expect. And to tell the truth, anxiety about the 
 journey, the passage, the change of diet and of habits, 
 and the distance from their regular doctor, would be 
 greater for me than the anxieties of absence. Do not, 
 therefore, be unhappy about your responsibility. I 
 share it even while I trust in you, and my trust is 
 complete. 
 
 ' Think well of this, dear mother, and talk it over 
 with our friends. Show my letters to them. Ask 
 Behier to consult with Andral. As for me, I am 
 convinced that staying at Val-Richer, and then for a 
 month at Trouville, if the weather be fine, will be 
 much better for my children's health than the experi- 
 ment of such a journey — of two journeys in at the 
 
196 MOXSIEUK GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 most four months, or even a shorter time, if new 
 political embarrassments should occur. This is the 
 exact summary of the situation, and of the grounds 
 of my decision. God only knows the struggles I 
 went through with myself and my own wishes before 
 I arrived at this conclusion ! 
 
 ' I repeat, dear mother — for one should not omit 
 anything that may alleviate pain — that I am sure of 
 being with you towards the end of September, and 
 that I quite hope to be able to spend a week with 
 you in the course of the summer. 
 
 'Adieu, dear mother. I do not ask you to be 
 brave — no one is more brave than you are — I ask 
 you to help me in our mutual task. You had better 
 not say anything to the children until we are of one 
 mind on the subject.' 
 
 The decision was made to the children's great 
 soiTow. It disappointed them in every way. They 
 were not to see their father, and they had to give up 
 their visit to England. Their courage gave way a 
 little. Their father tried to raise it. ' My dear 
 Henriette, my dearest child,' he wrote on the ninth 
 of May, 1840, ' you will not be sorry when I tell you 
 that your sad letters to-day gave me pleasure. I am 
 well aware that you love me veiy much, and I am 
 very glad to see proofs of it. Certainly the sacrifice 
 is a great one, and a very great one. Twenty, fifty 
 times a-day — when I awake, when I come in, when 
 I go upstairs, when I go down to my meals, when I 
 am going out — my first impulse is to look for you, 
 and my disappointment at not finding you is very 
 
EMBASSY IN EK GLAND. 197 
 
 sharp. And do not think, my dear child, that habit 
 will cure me : I never get accustomed to these evils. 
 Pray follow my example, and love me as much when 
 I am absent as when I am present, preserve un- 
 diminished your sorrow for my absence, and let us 
 bear cheerfully this grief, which is a reasonable one. 
 We shall meet towards the end of the summer at the 
 latest, my dear children, and sooner I hope, for a few 
 days. And we shall enjoy Val-Richer together : it 
 will be even more delightful than usual. I envy 
 your seeing the apple-trees in blossom. M. Labbey 
 writes to me that they are superb, and promise a 
 magnificent harvest.' 
 
 A few days later, on the fourteenth of May, he 
 writes : — 
 
 ' My dear little Pauline, your picture has come, 
 and I write to you to tell you what pleasure it gives 
 me. I shall not write to Henriette till to-mon-ow ; 
 I am sure that she will not mind. The picture is 
 excellent, and the likeness perfect. It gives me a 
 double pleasure. It is very like you, and it looks in 
 good health. You have recovered, therefore, very 
 quickly. Here is a kiss for you, my dear child; I 
 am sure that when we meet I shall find you all very 
 much grown. Keep well in the meantime. Your 
 portrait is in my room, close to my writing-table. 
 There is a place, also, for Henriette's, which I am 
 now expecting. Portraits are not you, my dear 
 children, but they are worth having. Yours looks 
 as if it wanted to speak to me ! " Speak, then ! " 
 
 ' Thank you for promising to be brave if neces- 
 
198 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PKIVATE LIFE. 
 
 sary, when you go to Brewster's. I hope that there 
 will be no occasion for it ; but I repeat what you 
 say, " whatever happens," you will be courageous. 
 You understand that it is indispensable that your 
 teeth should be examined before you go into the 
 country. I shall not be there to take you to Caen. 
 
 ' I have had a little rest from dinner-parties ; but 
 they are beginning again. I have three running — 
 to-morrow, the day after, and Monday. London, 
 just now, is like an ant-hill. I walked all through 
 the parks to the Foreign Office yesterday. It is the 
 fashion to ride, drive, and walk in Hyde Park from 
 four to six ; a Longchamps every day. I walked for 
 more than half-an-hour by the side of a drive com- 
 pletely filled with carriages obliged to go at a foot's- 
 pace. A great many gentlemen and ladies were on 
 horseback. The ladies, here, ride a great deal, and 
 very well. It takes me a good hour to walk to the 
 Foreign Office ; but it is a channing walk.' 
 
 M. Guizot gave his children a share in the new 
 and varied interests of his life while he was away 
 from them, without, however, lessening their disap- 
 pointment They were too young to appreciate the 
 politics, but some of his descriptions amused them 
 intensely. On reading over these letters after an 
 interval of forty years, we found whole sentences 
 and paragraphs which had remained graven on our 
 memories. 
 
 ' I wish you had all been hidden in some corner 
 to see my dinner at the Lord Mayor's — the Mansion 
 House,' he wrote on the twenty-first of April ; ' you 
 
EMBASSY IN ENGLAKD. 199 
 
 would have been greatly amused for at least a quar- 
 ter of an hour. It was in a very large and beautiful 
 room, called, I know not why, the Egyptian Hall, 
 supported by enormous pillars, and ornamented with 
 all sorts of banners and symbols belonging to the 
 City. When I entered, accompanied by the Lord 
 Mayor, and with the Lady Mayoress on my arm, 
 there were already 350 people at the table. It was 
 very dimly lighted. The moment we sat down the 
 gas was turned on, and the hall was flooded with 
 light. The Lord Mayor and the Lady Mayoress 
 were seated on two raised chairs of state, under a 
 great red canopy : I was next to the Lady Mayoress. 
 A magnificent service of plate, belonging to the City, 
 was distributed over all the tables. The dinner was 
 long, and music, which was not bad, went on all the 
 time. Towards the end, two enormous goblets, filled 
 with wine, were brought in ; the tnimpet sounded, 
 and the City Herald proclaimed that the Lord and 
 Lady Mayoress drank to the health of the French 
 Ambassador, the Bishop of London, and all the 
 present company The Lady Mayoress rose, took 
 one of the cups and turned towards me ; I rose at 
 the same time. She drank, bowed, and passed the 
 cup on to me ; I bowed in return, turned to my left- 
 hand neighbour, di'ank and bowed, and presented 
 her with the cup She did the same to her left-hand 
 neighbour. The Lord Mayor was iDerforming the 
 same ceremony on his side ; and the two cups, in this 
 way, went all round the 350 guests. This is called 
 the " Loving Cup." At dessert, two immense silver- 
 
200 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 gilt dishes were put down before the Lord and Lady 
 Mayoress, they were filled with rosewater, and 
 passed round the high table only (it consisted of 
 fifty people), and each person dipped the end of his 
 napkin in the rose-water and wiped his lips and 
 fingers. Then began the toasts to the Queen, Prince 
 Albert, the Queen-Dowager, and the Royal Family, 
 the English Army and Navy, the French Ambas- 
 sador, and the other Foreign Ministers. I was the 
 only member of the diplomatic body present. I rose 
 and replied to the toast in a little English speech, 
 which was, I cannot tell you how many times, inter- 
 rupted and cheered. They were very much pleased, 
 and showed their pleasure very heartily. Then fol- 
 lowed innumerable toasts and compliments to me 
 from the speakers. The ladies retired, according to 
 custom. More toasts. At length, at a little before 
 eleven o'clock, we left the dining-table, and went 
 back into the saloons, where the ball had begun. I 
 reached home at a quarter before twelve. 
 
 ' The Lord Mayor's name is Sir Chapman Mar- 
 shall, and he looks a Yerj good kind of man. The 
 Lady Mayoress is his daughter: she is extremely 
 pretty, and has a very sweet expression. I was 
 asked to propose a toast in her honour, and I 
 did so. 
 
 ' One o'clock. 
 
 ' Here are some capital letters. I am delighted 
 with them. I will write to-mon-ow to my good little 
 Pauline. I expect that she will get better every day. 
 But you amuse me by the serious way in which you 
 
INTEREST IN VAL-EICHER. 201 
 
 speak of asses' milk : "I hope it will do us good." 
 Do you want anything to do you good 1 You are a 
 colossus. I am very glad that you are taking asses' 
 milk ; it is very wholesome, but it is a luxury for you. 
 
 ' Farewell, my dear children. I say farewell with 
 a light heart, although the weather is dull. All the 
 sun we have had lately did not make me gay. Your 
 letters, to-day, are worth a great many suns. Good- 
 bye. Here are three kisses each for you, including 
 grandmamma.' 
 
 The children had news to tell on their side, for 
 Madame Guizot had returned to her summer quarters 
 at Val-Richer. M. Guizot took an increasing interest 
 in all the arrangements and pleasures appertaining 
 to liis country home. 
 
 He wrote on the fifth of June : — 
 
 ' So you are settled at Val-Richer ; I hope that 
 you got there without much fatigue, but I shall not 
 know until Monday, for the letter written by you 
 this morning from Lisieux will take another day to 
 reach iae. After this little gap, which you will not 
 feel, our correspondence will be as regular as in 
 Paris. Every morning it is a fresh joy to me. I 
 cannot understand how absence can be borne without 
 letters. Alas ! how many sorrows one bears in tliis 
 world without understanding them. 
 
 'I cannot tell you how glad I am to think that 
 my children are living in the open air. I think it so 
 good for them : let them be out as much as possible. 
 There is no need to fear that their intellectual devel- 
 opment will not be sufficiently rapid : their Intel- 
 
202 MOKSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 lects and their feelings are perhaps more precocious 
 and excitable tlian they ought to be at their age. 
 I do not complain of this, but they ought not to be 
 stimulated. Leisure, exercise, and liberty, are what 
 we must take care to give them, and when they 
 are out in the garden, where they can run into no 
 danger, let them do what they please, and as they 
 please — sometimes quite alone, superintended only 
 from a distance. There is no freedom for children 
 if they are not sometimes alone, left entirely to them- 
 selves. The intervention, even the presence, of a 
 grown-up person when they are at play takes away 
 from the sphit and carelessness which are so good 
 for them. 
 
 'Do not let Henriette read Michelet's History of 
 the Roman Republic. It is not fit for her. Not one 
 of M. Michelet's works is fit for children — not even 
 for very advanced children — either as regards in- 
 struction or morality. The fact is, these works are 
 very inaccurate, and the deductions they draw are 
 those of an ill-regulated, though honest mind. If 
 Henriette has finished the Ancient History, let her 
 take the History of Rome, by RoUin, or the one by 
 Lam'ent Echard, which is in the book-case in the 
 corridor; and the History of the Emperors, by Crevier. 
 We will settle all this in the autumn. She tells me 
 that she is reading the Lives of the Latin Poets. She 
 might read the translation of the ^neid. Give her 
 also the translation of Jerusalem Delivered ; it will 
 interest her very much, and the impression it pro- 
 duces is, on the whole, good.' 
 
INTEREST IN TAL-RICHEE. 203 
 
 On the ninth of June he writes to his son, who 
 was seven years old : — 
 
 ' My dear Guillaume, — You were so busy in 
 Paris that you did not write long letters. Will 
 you have as much to do at Val-Richer 1 Perhaps 
 more, for you will have as many lessons to prepare, 
 and you will be out a great deal more. Go out, my 
 child, run about, plant flowers, play with the water 
 in the little brook. You will not have left off play- 
 ing when I am with j^ou again, I hope 1 I like so 
 much seeing you at play. 
 
 ' I am delighted that you think the new road and 
 the avenue pretty. I am expecting the particulars. 
 Tell me how many trees there are planted along our 
 road, from the point where it makes a bend in the 
 meadow to the gate of our courtyard. And also 
 how many evergreens there are in the clump of 
 trees which was to be planted to the right in the 
 hollow, just where the road turns into the meadow. 
 
 ' You are very lucky to have so many strawber- 
 ries., You would do me a great favour if you could 
 send me some. They are very scarce here, and 
 A'ery dear — everything that is scarce is dearer than 
 you can possibly imagine. I had peaches at my 
 two grand dinners ; they cost five francs a-piece. 
 
 ' Good-bye, my dear child. I leave you to write 
 a despatch. This often happens. I have to send 
 off a messenger this evening. At Epsom, the other 
 day, after the races, I saw I cannot tell you how 
 many pigeons let fly to carry the names of the win- 
 ning horses into the different counties. They reached 
 
204 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PEIVATE LIFE. 
 
 the other end of England in a few minutes. Could 
 we not train some pigeons to fly twice a-day be- 
 tween Val-Richer and Hertford House ? It is true 
 that our pigeons have not succeeded very well at 
 Val-Richer.' 
 
 The children told all their little pleasures, and 
 counted conscientiously the trees in the avenue ; 
 but it was his sister-in-law, Madame de Meulan, to 
 whom M. Guizot wrote for the details which alone 
 satisfied him ; it was she who had the charge of all 
 the new arrangements. Born on the eve of the 
 French Revolution, her fortune was twice destroyed. 
 She was left without husband or children, and she 
 devoted herself to M. Guizot with all the energy of 
 a strong and passionate nature. Endowed at the 
 same time with a robust temperament and talents 
 of the utmost refinement, she spent all her time and 
 her powers in embellishing the country house, the 
 charge of which she had formerly shared with 
 Franqois. 
 
 Her employments were as numerous as they were 
 varied — painting, sculpture, and embroidery occu- 
 pied her in turn, and at the same time, she took a 
 lively interest in the political negotiations in which 
 M. Guizot was engaged. 
 
 ' I wanted to write you both yesterday and to- 
 day, my dear Aline,' M. Guizot wrote on the twenty- 
 sixth of July. ' I was prevented by conferences 
 and despatches, and I was at work during part 
 of the night. Things , are going on very badly in 
 the East : the Pasha's enemies are making a great 
 
IKTEEEST IN VAL-EICHEE. 205 
 
 deal out of the insurrection in Syria, and if he does 
 not at once repress it, the affair will turn out ill. I 
 never thought well of it, and I kept it in suspense for 
 five months. If this insurrection had not occurred, 
 it would still be in suspense. We shall see. Al- 
 though people say that I have nothing but success 
 here, my own pretensions are not so great. 
 
 ' To-day I give my dinner to the Nemours ; there 
 will be thirty people. I shall have quantities of 
 flowers in the rooms ; they are my favourite deco- 
 ration. I should like to have music during dinner, 
 and a little evening party afterwards ; but it is Sun- 
 day, and therefore this cannot be done. The only 
 dissipation one may allow oneself on Sunday is a 
 dinner; and the Due and Duchesse de Nemours 
 could give me no other day. They leave on Tues- 
 day for Goodwood races, to which the Duke of 
 Orleans has sent two of his horses ; and from Good- 
 wood they return to France. 
 
 ' Speaking of flowers, pray sow a great deal of 
 dittany ; I like it, and I like an abundance of the 
 same flower. Those that prosper most in England 
 are decidedly the geraniums ; they are remarkable 
 as to quantity and quality. Try also to collect .a 
 great many sorts of heath, it is a pretty little fam- 
 ily, and lasts a long time in blossom. 
 
 ' I like your gold and silver pheasants. I should 
 like to have an aviary, we will some day have one 
 in the courtyard. My fear is lest the situation 
 should be too cold. You have no idea what pleas- 
 ure it will give me to see the avenue and the court- 
 
206 MOI^SIEUE GUIZOT IN" PEIVATE LIFE. 
 
 yard now that they are finished. You need not be 
 afraid. I went the other day to Sion House, the 
 residence of the Duke of Northumberland, one of 
 the finest places in England. It contains a blue 
 and golden gallery, like the Francois I. gallery at 
 Fontainebleau ; a dining-room supported by twelve 
 of the finest antiqiie pillars in the world — they 
 were found in the Tiber, and purchased by the 
 grandfather of the present Duke. There are green- 
 houses like those at the Jardin des Plantes, in fact 
 these were our models. All round the house are 
 those matchless green fields of England, covered 
 with beautiful sheep and cows, all as clean and well 
 cared for as the grass. Yet I like my Val-Richer a 
 thousand times better.' 
 
 ' April 29tli 
 
 * My dear Aline, — Your two panels are charm- 
 ing. Do not take the trouble of sending the third, 
 I trust entirely to you ; and three are quite variety 
 enough. I am particularly curious about the stone 
 pedestal: send me the little drawing of it, which 
 you promised me. I suppose that you have already 
 set to work, I know your perseverance ; you have 
 a great many things on hand just now — the banis- 
 ters, my armchair, carpets of every sort, and I know 
 not what else. You will finish all these things, I 
 know ; so I thank you beforehand as if they were 
 done already. Do you appreciate the confiding 
 nature of this speech 1 
 
 ' Now let us agree in our views. You bought the 
 horse "Henry" for 1000 fr.; if he be a good one, 
 
INTEREST IN VAL-EICHER. 207 
 
 as there seems reason to believe, I am not sorry for 
 it. You are to make the hedges round the future 
 garden both quickset and evergreen. Then you 
 must lower the lawn in the courtyard ; it is neces- 
 sary for the sake of the fountain and to give an air 
 of finish. But you must stop there, and not go a 
 bit farther in the Val-Richer improvements this 
 year. We have already done an enormous deal, 
 and I am ruined. Nothing more at all. Your own 
 work — the banisters, the carpets — these are the 
 last victories that Val-Richer will gain in 1840, and 
 it will have gained a great many. 
 
 ' Likewise I do not wish you to keep Bradamante 
 as a brood mare ; it is clearly a losing experiment, we 
 should have to feed the mother for a year and the 
 foal for two or three years ; he would not be worth 
 what he would cost us. We do not want another 
 horse. Sell Bradamante, if only for lOOfr. ; she will 
 have served us well for three years. 
 
 ' You had better carry the earth which is taken 
 away from the courtyard down towards the chestnut 
 avenue, in order to support it and to make a slope. 
 
 ' I am delighted that the door is successful. Is it 
 very strong ? Does it look so 1 For I cannot bear 
 anything paltry. In all things the appearance of 
 strength is good, as well as the reality. 
 
 ' I was so clever as to say out of my own head, 
 in reply to Orbec, that I had long been engaged to 
 the Cantons of St. Pierre and Mezidon in the event of 
 M. Legrand's resignation. I have written this to M. 
 Labbey and M. Jeanne. This arrangement suits me 
 
208 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 capitally. I suppose that M. Legrand will resign 
 after the session of the Conseil- General. I will then 
 write to himself. In the meanwhile M. Labbey will 
 show him my letter. 
 
 ' You are right in your opinion of M. Labbey, 
 he is full of noble and generous impulses ; I esteem 
 him as much as I like him. 
 
 ' I am kept informed of all that is being said in 
 Paris. I do not disturb myself much about un- 
 pleasant things, even when they are said by old 
 friends. I impute many of them to thoughtless- 
 ness — the great fault, and at the same time the 
 great excuse, of us mortals. I am therefore consid- 
 erably indifferent, and not at all angry. When 
 people tried to wound me treacherously I defended 
 myself in such a fashion as to take away, for some 
 time, any inclination on their part to begin again. 
 Rest assured that my conduct during the last six 
 months has been wise, that my position is a strong 
 one, and pray be resigned to vicissitudes and 
 dangers.' 
 
VAL, EICHEK. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 1840. 
 
 MADAME 6UIZ0T LIFE IN ENGLAND. 
 
 M. GuizoT was on the eve of the most trying years in 
 his laborious life ; he was, however, already looking 
 forward to the peaceful days which later on it became 
 God's pleasure to bestow on him at Val-Richer. 
 
 ' If the magnificent sunshine,' he wrote to his 
 mother, ' which floods my square this morning ex- 
 tends to Val-Richer, it must be delightful. I am 
 certainly growing old, for the idea of retirement, final 
 retirement, is agreeable to me. I do not know if I 
 shall ever enjoy it. Besides the domestic reasons 
 which oblige me to work, I feel called, impelled by my 
 nature to action, every sort of action which circum- 
 stances may lay upon me. What one can do, it is 
 one's duty to do. And besides feeling that it is my 
 duty, I am willing and eager to accept and seize every 
 opportunity which presents itself, from an impulse 
 which is stronger even than my natural inclination, 
 and which shows that action is my mission ; and 
 therefore I shall go on, straightforward, as far and 
 as long as God pleases. But I hope that before I 
 
 14 
 
210 MONSIEUE GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 take my final departure I shall have a few days of 
 rest, absolute rest. It rests me beforehand to think 
 of it ' 
 
 The life at Val-Richer, which was so agreeable 
 to Madame Guizot, was intensely delightful to her 
 grandchildren, not only on account of the freedom 
 they enjoyed, but also for the sake of the amusements 
 which she shared with them. This noble woman, 
 whose strong soul had been so cruelly tossed in early 
 life and stricken by an incurable grief, preserved her 
 taste for gardening, for all the cares and pleasures of 
 rural life : even her perpetual maternal anxieties did 
 not entirely neutralise the healing influence of this 
 retreat, she unbent and rested herself at Val-Richer, 
 and she devoted to her grandchildren — to their pleas- 
 ures as much as to their education — all her improved 
 health and spirits, for it was always her habit to 
 lavish all she possessed upon those she loved. Al- 
 though she was at first slow to perceive that the 
 children she had brought up were growing older 
 every year, and required more amusement and in- 
 dependence, they knew well the tenderness which 
 was hidden beneath her strength of will, and time, 
 as it went on, softened without enfeebling her 
 character. 
 
 ' You have no idea what my mother was when 
 she was young,' M. Gruizot sometimes would say 
 laughingly to his childi-en. 
 
 A southern temperament with its hasty and pas- 
 sionate impulses was allied, in Madame Guizot, to a 
 strong persevering, active disposition, penetrated to 
 
MADAME GUIZOT. 2 1 1 
 
 the very marrow with the doctrines and traditions 
 of which the old Huguenot character was the out- 
 come. 
 
 The sorrows and cares which darkened her hfe did 
 not, however, destroy the ground- work of natural 
 gayety which now and then came to the surface. 
 Another taste she had — which she preserved even in 
 extreme old age — the taste for information and the 
 intelligent curiosity about all sorts of subjects which 
 characterised the eighteenth century ; travels, espe- 
 cially descriptions of unknown countries, and new 
 facts in physical or moral science had an irresistible 
 attraction for her. We saw her once, when she had 
 become very deaf and very feeble, remain standing 
 for two hours, leaning against the mantelpiece, ques- 
 tioning and listening to an adventurous explorer, who 
 had just travelled across South America, from one 
 ocean to the other. But the governing principle 
 with her was a really heroic passion for duty, for 
 every duty, small or great ; an absolute and steady 
 devotion, a continual endeavour towards perfection, 
 which she inspired in others by her example. 
 
 Even so, with all these contrasts and harmonies, 
 does the figure of Madame Guizot rise up in the 
 memory of her grandchildren, now, that in middle 
 age, they look back with the most affectionate grati- 
 tude to those days of their infancy which were full 
 of her presence and influence. 
 
 But it was to M. Guizot (and their grandmother 
 encouraged them) that these young minds turned 
 with eager love ; it was to him that they confided 
 
212 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 every impression and interest. I will quote a few- 
 passages from letters which will prove how strong 
 was the intimacy between the father and children, 
 even when they were separated, and how constant 
 was the solicitude with which he watched over their 
 young lives. 
 
 ' You are very right, my dear child ; a great many 
 good qualities are wanting in you, and I pray God 
 to give them to you ; but He bestows nothing on 
 those who do not try to deserve His gifts. Our own 
 efforts are not enough to make us as good as it is our 
 duty to become. We need God's help at every in- 
 stant; and whenever we do anything that is right, 
 if we acquire some new virtue, we may be sure that 
 God has helped us, has helped us much, and we owe 
 infinite gratitude to Him for His assistance. But it 
 is His will that we should ourselves work out our 
 own improvement. God bestows His help in aid of 
 our endeavours, to reward as well as to assist them. 
 When God created man. He made him a free and a 
 reasonable being, that is to say, able to distinguish 
 between right and wrong, and to choose the right. 
 Liberty, my dear child, is the power of choosing the 
 right ; and man inherits this great power from God 
 Himself This is what constitutes the nobility of 
 man's nature. But as man, while he is free and 
 reasonable, is yet very imperfect and very weak, he 
 needs, at every moment, the goodness and grace of 
 God to assist his weakness and to help him to 
 struggle with his imperfections. Alas ! it is a never- 
 ending struggle. 
 
LIFE IN ENGLAND. 213 
 
 ' One of the things which I regret most bitterly, 
 my dear child, is, that when I am so far from you I 
 cannot talk to you about' all that interests you, 
 especially when your thoughts turn upon such serious 
 subjects. Always tell me whenever they do so ; our 
 separation would be intolerable were I not convinced 
 that I shall know every important thought that passes 
 through your mind, and were I not able to give you 
 my opinion in return. 
 
 ' I went yesterday evening to the House of 
 Commons, and came back at one in the morning. 
 There was a very interesting debate on the Irish 
 elections. You must always take an interest in Ire- 
 land, my child. Your mother always did, it was 
 the cradle of her family. I meet a great many rela- 
 tions of yours here. One hundred and fifty years 
 ago, your grandfather's family quitted England in 
 the suite of James II. and took refuge in France, 
 Spain, and Italy. They ran away from England 
 because they were Catholics. Almost at the same 
 time, the Protestants were running away from 
 France. A Protestant now represents France at 
 the court of St. James, and he finds a great many 
 Catholics in the very House of Commons which 
 turned them out 150 years ago. All this, my child, 
 is the result of intellectual progress, and a better 
 appreciation of religious truth. If we were sud- 
 denly taken back to the state in which Europe was 
 two centuries ago, we could not even endure the 
 sight of so much misery and injustice. This is a 
 reason for deep gratitude to God, who has caused 
 
214 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PEIVATE LIFE. 
 
 US to be bom in a just and temperate age, and also 
 for great patience with its sufferings and imperfec- 
 tions — still very considerable — which continue to 
 try us. There will always be these imperfections in 
 our lives and in the world. God allows nothing to 
 be perfect, or even nearly perfect, and this is one of 
 the proofs that this world is only a world of passage, 
 a beginning of our career, and that the goal of our 
 efforts is beyond it. But we ought, nevertheless, to 
 enjoy all the happiness which is granted to us, and 
 to thank God that our portion is so much larger 
 than was that of our predecessors. 
 
 ' Do you know, my child, why one is so conceited 
 when one is young ? It is because one does not yet 
 know how great and how difficult are the objects of 
 one's endeavors. One feels oneself to be strong, 
 brave, and intelligent, and as one has not yet tried 
 one's powers one thinks that they are equal to any- 
 thing. Look at this man ; he lives in a little valley 
 at the foot of a mountain, before his eyes are only 
 a narrow space and near objects. He can see them 
 perfectly, nothing escapes him, and he says to him- 
 self, " I have excellent eyes ; I can see all I want 
 to see." He begins to ascend the mountain ; as he 
 goes higher the space widens, he discovers objects 
 farther off, he can still see them clearly, and he con- 
 tinues to pride himself on his powers ; he goes 
 higher and higher, and the horizon grows wider and 
 wider, and his sight becomes less clear ; he tries in 
 vain to see over this vast country, and to distinguish 
 these multiplied and distant objects; many look 
 
LIFE m ENGLAND. 215 
 
 confused, or escape him altogether;* and when he 
 has reached the top of the mountain and sees before 
 him an immense space and all that is crowded into 
 it, he acknowledges that his eyes cannot reach so far, 
 or take in so many things. At the very moment, 
 therefore, when he has attained the highest eminence 
 and has tried his eyes to the utmost, he most feels 
 his weakness, and is content to lay down his pride 
 in the presence of God. Our intellect, and all our 
 faculties, my dear child, are like our eyes ; the 
 mountain we have to climb is life, and its experience 
 makes us feel and own our insufficiency more and 
 more with every step of advancement and improve- 
 ment. If we were perfectly wise we should know 
 beforehand, and at the foot of the mountain, all 
 that we should see when we reached the top. This 
 is impossible, and it is absurd to expect children to 
 be as wise and as prudent as men are. But you are 
 clever and wise enough, dear Henriette, to under- 
 stand clearly that neither your cleverness nor your 
 wisdom are as perfect, as unerring, as you imagine 
 them to be. All I ask is, that you should not trust 
 to them presumptuously, that you should acknowl- 
 edge beforehand that there are a great many things 
 which escape your view, and that the moment when 
 you will see from the highest point, and over the 
 largest extent, will be exactly the one in which you 
 will be most sensible of your insufficiency and most 
 inclined to modesty.' 
 
 Again, on the twenty-second of June, to his sec- 
 ond daughter : — 
 
216 MONSIEUE GUIZOT IN PKIVATE LIFE. 
 
 ' My dear Pauline, — Here is another kiss to- 
 day, for your birthday. This day nine years your 
 mother was lying in bed, near the window, in my 
 httle room, in the street La Ville-VEveque, very tired 
 but very happy, and I, too, was very happy. My 
 dear child, you cannot remember your mother ; but 
 you should think often of her. We can never think 
 enough of those who loved us so much and who are 
 no longer with us. " Not lost, hut gone heforeP Is 
 not this true, my dear little one % 
 
 ' You are right in wishing to train your mind 
 yourself; you can do so, for you have an excellent 
 heart and understanding; you know quite well 
 when you have done wrong, and you never want to 
 vex those you love. "What I advise, my dear child, 
 is that you should not always give way to your first 
 impulses ; that you should try to put a little more 
 equanimity into your character and temper. Life, 
 dear, is full of contrasts, of good and evil, great joys 
 and great sorrows, of many little troubles, and many 
 little pleasures. If our minds were as uneven as our 
 fortunes, we should soon be tired and broken down, 
 and a burden to our friends and to ourselves. When 
 you are at Trouville, you will see ships tossed by 
 the sea, driven by winds and waves hither and 
 Ihither, to the right and to the left. What would 
 happen, dear child, if there were no pilot to steer 
 the ship through all these oscillations and dangers % 
 She would soon founder or fall in pieces ; but the 
 pilot governs the ship while he prays to God who 
 governs the sea. And the ship sails on her way and 
 generally reaches the haven. This is a type of our 
 
LIFE IN ENGLAND. 217 
 
 condition in this world ; we have to govern our own 
 inclinations while we constantly, and with a firm 
 faith, invoke Grod's help and protection, and try to 
 preserve our presence of mind, our courage, our vigi- 
 lance, and our serenity, through all the diificulties, 
 perils, and vicissitudes with which our course is beset. 
 I hope, dear Pauline, that Grod will permit me to re- 
 main with you all long enough to help you during 
 your apprenticeship to life, and to teach you how 
 to help yourselves. 
 
 'From what Henriette tells me I see that you have 
 received some very pretty presents. This increases 
 my regret that I was not with you. You must spend 
 the five francs which I have asked grandmamma to 
 give you, on something you want, while waiting for 
 the present I intend to bring you. 
 
 ' I had two adventures at Windsor. The first was 
 winning the sweepstakes at Ascot. Every one who 
 accompanies the Queen puts in a sovereign and draws 
 a ticket with the name of one of the horses that are 
 going to run. I drew "Scutari," and "Scutari " won 
 the principal race. Twenty-three sovereigns for me, 
 which will balance the twenty pounds I had to spend 
 in fees to the servants at Windsor Castle. 
 
 ' Here is my second adventure ; it will make you 
 laugh, but pray do not laugh at it before company, as 
 it might find its way into some newspaper, which 
 would annoy me. On Wednesday evening, at Wind- 
 sor, the Queen retired at eleven o'clock ; we stayed 
 behind, talking for half-an-hour. At midnight, I set 
 out to find my own apartment, and I lose myself 
 in the galleries, saloons, and corridors. At last I 
 
218 MOKSIEUE GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 slowly open a door, taking it for mine, and I see a 
 lady beginning to undress, attended by her maid. 
 I shut the door as fast as I can, and begin again to 
 search for m}'' own room. I, at last, find some one 
 who shows me the way. I go to bed. The next 
 day, at dinner, the Queen said to me, laughingly, 
 " Do you know that you entered my room at mid- 
 night?" " How, ma'am; was it your Majesty's door 
 that I half opened ? " "Certainly." And she began 
 laughing again, and so did I. 
 
 ' I told her of my perplexity, which she had 
 already guessed ; and I asked whether if, like St. 
 Simon or Sully, I should ever write my memoirs, 
 she would allow me to mention that I had opened the 
 Queen of England's door in Windsor Castle at mid- 
 night while she was going to bed. She gave me 
 permission, and laughed heartily.' 
 
 He wrote the description of Windsor Castle to his 
 son : — 
 
 ' I write to you from Windsor, my dear Guillaume. 
 It certainly is one of the most delightful and pictu- 
 resque castles in the world ; its exterior is a Gothic 
 fortress of the Middle Ages, the interior is a very 
 elegant and comfortable modem palace. I arrived 
 yesterday, two hours before dinner ; I dressed, and at 
 a quarter before eight I went into the drawingrroom 
 through a long, very long, gallery, full of busts and 
 pictures, not very wide or very high, the ceiling grey 
 and gold, with sculptured compartments. There is 
 nothing very remarkable in the drawing-rooms ex- 
 cept the view, which extends over the park and the 
 countrjr ; both were as green as possible. We then 
 
i I ■ Iflll 
 
 lil, ii I I Hlf^Jn i 
 
LIFE IN ENGLAJSTD. 219 
 
 went into dinner. The dining-room is splendid — 
 enormous ; 150 people can dine in it. There were 
 nearly eighty of us, all English except myself. The 
 ceiling is of old sculptured oak, divided into compart- 
 ments, and in each compartment are painted the arms 
 of a Knight of the Garter. The arms of every one 
 who has been a Knight of the Garter are there from 
 the beginning until now. Over my head was No. 
 352, and I sat in about the middle of the room. The 
 walls are hung all round with steel armour — helmets, 
 lances, cuirasses, and swords. At each end is a 
 gallery, one for music and the other for spectators ; 
 on the table, and on a huge sideboard at the end of 
 the table, the most splendid service of silver-gilt plate. 
 On my left sat the young Queen, whom they tried to 
 assassinate the other day. In gay spirits, talking a 
 great deal, laughing very often and longing to laugh 
 still more ; and filling with her gaiety, which con- 
 trasted with the already tragical elements in her 
 history, this ancient castle which has witnessed the 
 career of all her predecessors. It was all very grand, 
 very beautiful, very striking. I talk to you, my 
 little boy, as if you were grown up. 
 
 ' I have nothing pretty to tell you. I am very 
 busy ; busy about things you do not care for : you 
 will care for them some day. I hope that in your 
 time affairs will be a little less complicated than they 
 are in mine, they will always be intricate enough. 
 We are not put into this world only for our own 
 pleasure and comfort : there is trouble to be taken, 
 there are great annoyances and great sorrows to be 
 borne. You will have your share, my child. God 
 
220 MONSIEUE GUIZOT IN PEIVATE LIFE. 
 
 grant that the burden may be light ! Your life 
 is very easy at present, I hope that it will long 
 remain so. You are surrounded only by people 
 who love you and try to do everything to please 
 you. It is a great happiness that you have two 
 good sisters whose advice and friendship will be 
 yours thi'ough life. I pray God always to preserve 
 them for you. He has taken from you a charming, 
 excellent brother, who would have been a second 
 father to you. You will never know how much you 
 have lost ; this is one of my greatest sorrows. I 
 wish that the whole world could know what my dear 
 Francois was, and what he would have become. I 
 shall often talk to you of him, my dear little boy.' 
 
 M. Guizot's mother and children were established 
 at Trouville in a pretty little house, which they de- 
 scribed in their letters as carefully as their father 
 described for them Windsor Castle. They were out 
 a great deal on the sea-shore ; and they did a few 
 lessons, for Madame Guizot did not approve of holi- 
 days. 
 
 'Thank you both for your English letters,' M. 
 Guizot wrote to his daughters ; ' they are well ex- 
 pressed, and have very few faults. I shall be very 
 glad if you become thoroughly well acquainted with 
 the language, history, and literature of England. I 
 have always studied them a great deal, and every 
 day they interest me more and more. The English 
 are a great and an honest nation. They have many 
 faults and deficiencies, but the great qualities — 
 morality, sincerity, dignity, energy, and perseverance 
 — predominate.' 
 
LIFE IN ENGLAND. 221 
 
 * The more I see of England the more I respect 
 her. She does not know how to make her virtue 
 attractive and agreeable to other people. She is 
 haughty, reserved, and somewhat hard, although she 
 has a great fund of benevolence. It is impossible, 
 however, not to be a little under the charm of one's 
 personal impressions ; and I am touched, very much 
 touched, by my reception here, by the kindness and 
 respect, almost the affection which is shown me by 
 persons of all classes and every shade of opinion. If 
 I had you here, my children — you and your grand- 
 mother — I should be quite happy, but I miss you 
 exceedingly ; however, we shall soon meet. 
 
 ' There is one thing I should like for you, dear 
 Henriette ; it is that you should accustom yourself 
 to read long books ; not so as to tire yourself each 
 day, but you must read a little every day of some 
 long work ; and you must finish the whole of it. 
 There is a great deal more benefit in reading one 
 long work than in skipping over twenty. You are 
 not able to read long English books while you are 
 at Trouville ; but this is what I should like you, my 
 dear child, to do when you return to Val-Richer. 
 Either in my study or in the gallery you will find 
 Lingard's History of England, I should like you to 
 read that and Hume at the same time. Choose a 
 period ; for instance, the History of the Anglo-Saxon 
 Kings up to the Conquest of England by the Nor- 
 mans. Read it first in Hume, then put Hume on one 
 side and read the same period in Lingard, and so on 
 to the end. When you have read these two works 
 slowlv and simultaneously in this way, you will 
 
222 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 begin to know something of the History of Eng- 
 land. 
 
 ' If it would not frighten Pauline she might un- 
 dertake the same course of reading. But I am afraid 
 that she would find it very long, and I do not wish 
 her to tire herself.' 
 
 The complications of the Eastern Question pre- 
 vented M. Guizot from making liis proposed visit to 
 France ; he continued, nevertheless, to hope to do 
 <?o. He wrote on the tliu'd of August : — 
 
 * My dear Henriette, this letter will reach Trou- 
 ville on the sixth. No one, I think, will consider it 
 wrong in me to write only to you on your birthday. 
 I have sent to you, through another channel, a little 
 parcel which will arrive on the same day, containing 
 other parcels which you will distribute, or rather 
 which you will have distributed before you receive 
 this letter. When I am away from you, my dear 
 children, the greatest pleasure I can have is in giv- 
 ing you little pleasures, until I take you a great 
 pleasure by taking myself. 
 
 ' It is not the first time, my dear child, that I have 
 been away from you on the sixth of August, and the 
 older you grow, the more I regret it. Eleven years 
 old ! why, it is a lifetime ! May your life be a 
 happy one ! I dare not hope that you will escape 
 sorrow, even great sorrow : Grod does not grant this 
 to us, and we have no right to expect it. But may 
 you have few cruel trials, and may you have a deep, 
 true, and lasting source of happiness which will help 
 you to bear them. I hope that you have the ele- 
 ments of happiness in yourself — good temper, good 
 
LIFE IN ENGLAND. 223 
 
 sense, courage, unselfishness — not too sangnine ex- 
 pectations from man, but a full confidence in God. 
 This, dear child, was your mother's character ; you 
 resemble her in many ways ; you will have to make 
 great efi'orts in order to be like her in all. May God 
 help you to become so ! I desire this earnestly, 
 both for your sake and for my own : it gives me 
 inexpressible pleasure to trace her likeness in you.' 
 
 A few days later, at the door of a little house at 
 Trouville, three children — almost out of their senses 
 with joy — saw their father start up in his carriage, 
 terrified by the danger his poor little ones ran of 
 being crushed by his horses at this long-wished-for 
 moment of reunion. Only two days coiild be given 
 to Trouville ; the King, the Chateau d'Eu, and poli- 
 tics urged their claims, but the father had seen his 
 children again, the mother her son, the children 
 their father, and each felt more able to endure with 
 courage another separation. 
 
 * The only rest I had was at Trouville,' M. Guizot 
 writes from Calais on the fifteenth of August ; ' what 
 with politics and what with etiquette one never has 
 any rest at Court. But with you, my dear children, 
 talking with you and looking at you bathing in the 
 sea, my rest, both of mind and body, was perfect. 
 This is the sort of rest I look forward to when I 
 grow old. The present is not a time to think of 
 retirement ; we must give our thoughts just now to 
 what we can do for our country. Do not you, my 
 dear Henriette, love France, and see that we are 
 bound to do all we can for her 1 ' 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 1840-46. 
 
 EETUEN TO FRANCE HE ACCEPTS THE FOREIGN 
 
 OFFICE. 
 
 The time was at hand when it became more than 
 ever M. Guizot's duty to devote all his mind and 
 intellectual energies to the service of France. In the 
 midst of the agitation which extended over Europe, 
 he preserved the irrepressible hopefulness which was 
 one of his elements of strength ; in public life it never 
 forsook him. In his inmost heart and in his private 
 concerns he was more inclined to anxiety than to 
 confidence ; the trials and sufferings which he and 
 his family had gone through were to'i* great not to 
 have left ineffaceable traces behind them. 
 
 On the tenth of October, he wrote to Madame 
 Guizot : 
 
 ' Dear Mother, — Among the many motives 
 which make me deeply regret not haAdng been with 
 you on the fourth of October one of the most urgent 
 was my anxiety to express to you on that day, more 
 than on any other, all my love and my gratitude. 
 What do I not owe to you 1 All you did for me as a 
 fatherless child you are now doing for my motherless 
 
RETUllN TO FKAKCE. 225 
 
 children. There are in you two qualities which are 
 inexhaustible, courage and affection. You bore your 
 own trials without breaking down, you are now help- 
 ing me to bear mine. Thanks to you, I am able, 
 without failing in my duty to my children, without 
 being distracted by anxiety about them, to fulfil other 
 duties and to render my life as valuable as God has, 
 in all probability, destined that it should be. Dear 
 mother, always and in all things, you have helped me, 
 and you still help me. You do not know all the 
 tenderness, respect, and gi-atitude I feel for you in 
 my heart. May God preserve you a long time — a 
 very long time for me and my children. I cannot 
 now tell you with what lively pleasure I see their 
 fondness for you ; may God permit you long to en- 
 joy it ! It used to be an intense satisfaction to me to 
 watch the care that my dear son took of you, to see 
 how pleased he was to be with you and to bring out 
 for you all the resources of his excellent and charm- 
 ing disposition. I used to fancy that he was paying 
 you back a part of my debt, and I loved him all the 
 better for it. Oh, what a wound, dear mother ! what 
 an incurable wound ! I cannot touch it without being 
 inwardly overcome with grief. Such an exquisite, 
 loveable nature ! so gentle and so full of promise ! 
 My confidence in him set my mind completely at rest. 
 I should have left everything to him, I should have 
 entrusted to him you, my children, my home, my 
 memory, every dear recollection, every favourite 
 plan for the future — all, absolutely all, with the 
 most perfect security ! And it made me so happy to 
 
 15 
 
226 MONSIEUK GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 prepare his life, his career, his position ! He would 
 have so thoroughly enjoyed it, he would have filled 
 it so honourably, for himself as well as for me. He 
 was the complement of my life and he perpetuated 
 his mother's existence. Dear child ! I think I see 
 him now, his noble, tender, and refined countenance ! 
 but he himself, alas ! ... I do not ask God to con- 
 sole me, I ought not to be consoled, we are consoled 
 only too soon, we forget too soon. And I do not 
 murmiu" or revolt, but my heart was pierced through 
 and thi'ough, and everything renews the soreness of 
 my wound ! May God protect my children ! May 
 God preserve my children ! and as well as them, 
 with them, you, for their and my sake. God knows 
 that I am not ungrateful ! I know, I feel all the 
 hope and happiness they will one day afford me. I 
 wish they could know how much I love them ; this 
 is what one never can know. True love is always 
 much greater than its object has any idea of 
 
 ' Let us speak of other things ; it does not do to 
 allow oneself to be too much moved when one is so 
 far off. 
 
 ' We are in a very anxious crisis. In the begin- 
 ning there was much carelessness and presumption on 
 all sides. There are now obstinate misunderstand- 
 ings a,nd mutual embarrassments ; nevertheless there 
 is a sincere desire to avoid an explosion, and no ill- 
 will on the part of England against France, or on 
 that of the English Government against the French 
 Government. Therefore I do not despair. We shall 
 come out of this crisis hurt and wounded ; but we 
 
RETURN TO FRANCE. 227 
 
 shall, I think, recover from it. I expected to have 
 received a messenger to-day, who would have brought 
 me news of the meeting of the Chamber, and the 
 authorization to take some step in this affair. Time 
 passes, and he does not come. I must wait a little 
 longer.' 
 
 ' Two o'clock 
 
 ' I missed your letter this morning, and yet I 
 received several from Paris. There is again some 
 mistake or delay, such as has already happened two 
 or three times. I remind myself of these instances 
 that I may not be anxious. Grood-bye, dear mother. 
 Affectionate kisses for you all.' 
 
 M. Guizot intended to come to Paris for the open- 
 ing of the Chambers. Some of his friends pressed 
 him to delay his visit on account of the difficulties 
 of the situation. On the twentieth, he wrote to the 
 Due de Broglie : — 
 
 * I have thought it well over. I shall start from 
 here on the twenty-fifth, go round to take up my 
 mother and children in Normandy, and arrive in 
 Paris on the night of the twenty-eighth, or on the 
 following morning. One must not show anxiety 
 when one has no cause for it. 
 
 ' I want nothing in London ; I seek nothing in 
 Paris. Here, as well as there, I shall mix in no in- 
 trigue. I shall neither say nor do anything which is 
 not in perfect harmony with all that I have said and 
 done for the last eight months. I promised my sup- 
 port to the Cabinet without entering it ; this is what 
 I have done and what I shall do. Why should I 
 
228 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 give an appearance of hesitation and constraint to 
 my conduct 1 I am a Deputy in the first place, and 
 an Ambassador in the second. I think more of 
 my duties as a deputy than of my duties as ambas- 
 sador. As a Deputy, I shall act in accordance with 
 my judgment, my past conduct, and my honour : as 
 an Ambassador, I shall speak in harmony with all 
 I have thought, written, done, or agreed to since I 
 have held this post. I think all this perfectly com- 
 patible. I have, myself, not the slightest hesitation.' 
 
 While M. Guizot was writing these words, the 
 King refused the draft of the Speech prepared for 
 him by his Ministers ; the Cabinet of the twentieth 
 of May resigned, the King recalled M. Guizot to 
 Paris and entrusted him with the formation of a 
 Ministry. 
 
 He started at once, before he had time to tell his 
 family, for whose removal to Paris he made some 
 hasty arrangements. The packet by which M. de 
 Banneville, a young attach^ for whom M. Guizot had 
 a great friendship, sailed, foundered through a colli- 
 sion with an English steamer. Madame Guizot was 
 extremely anxious. As soon as she heard of the 
 accident, she set out, without waiting for any in- 
 structions, in a little carriage of the country, with 
 the children. Just as she was starting, she received 
 this letter, written on the twenty-seventh, from her 
 son : — 
 
 ' I have this instant, dear mother, received M. de 
 Banneville's letter telling me of the loss of the 
 Phoenix. Thank God, no one was di-owned ! The 
 
HE ACCEPTS THE FOEEIGN OFFICE. 229 
 
 poor young fellow I sent in my place is safely at 
 home with his parents. This news has agitated me 
 very much. Yesterday must have been a day of 
 terrible anxiety for you. You will probably see 
 Banneville to-day at Val-Richer, and this will delay 
 your journey for at least a day. What a dreadful 
 accident ! How impatient I am to have you all here 
 with me ! My large carriage, and everything it con- 
 tained, are lost; and everything, too, belonging to 
 poor Herbet. Fortunately I had every one of my 
 papers with me. We miist continue to thank God 
 that no one was drowned. But how I long for you ! 
 Come quickly. Kisses to you all.' 
 
 At six o'clock in the evening of the twenty-ninth 
 of October, Madame Gruizot was waiting, in the house 
 in the Rue la Ville-l'Eveque, for her son, who had 
 not yet returned from the Tuileries. Her face was 
 full of a mother's anxiety. 
 
 'Well? 'she asked. 
 
 ' I have accepted the Foreign OfSce.' 
 
 ' How could you accept such a burden ? ' cried 
 Madame Guizot. 
 
 ' I thought it was my duty.' 
 
 This was enough both for mother and son. Ma- 
 dame Guizot submitted to her fate ; she already knew 
 all the anxieties and sorrows which she would have 
 to bear, without, however, anticipating the sad and 
 final catastrophe. 
 
 The childi-en saw only one thing, could only 
 understand one thing, that their father was going to 
 stay in Paris, and that they were going to stay with 
 
230 MONSIEUE GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 their father. Joy filled their hearts. They have 
 never forgotten that time. They were still very 
 young, but, through God's Providence, they never 
 again, throughout their lives, had to submit to 
 another absence from their father so long as the one 
 they had just endured. 
 
 It was a real reunion. In his busiest days, M. 
 Guizot always found time to visit his mother two or 
 three times. His children watched their opportunity 
 for a kiss between the audiences, — they always got 
 their kiss and always found him ready to interest 
 himself in their affairs and theii' pleasures. Their 
 visits to Val-Richer were short, for M. Guizot could 
 seldom spare a few days for the country. During 
 several summers Madame Guizot refused to go so 
 far; and it was in the suburbs of Paris, at Passy, or 
 Auteuil, that she found the fresh air needful for the 
 children. Val-Richer was always, however, the 
 home, the privileged centre of all the freedom and 
 enjoyment of their country life, and during the three 
 or four months they spent in Normandy, they kept 
 up a correspondence as active as the one between 
 Paris and London. 
 
 More than once M. Guizot would write to his 
 mother or his children on the Council-table, whilst 
 his colleagues were discussing some question from 
 which he could distract his attention for a few 
 minutes, undisturbed by what was going on around 
 liim. 
 
 He writes to his son : — 
 
 ' Run about and amuse yourself, my dear little 
 
HE ACCEPTS THE FOEEIGN OFFICE. 231 
 
 boy. I am overpowered by business and by letters, 
 small and great. When some messenger wakes me 
 up in the middle of the night, and I have to spend 
 half-an-hour in reading despatches, I find it difficult 
 to go to sleep again, and I get up late. You do not 
 go to sleep a second time, I think, for you never 
 wake. Sleep away, my child — sleep as much as 
 you can. Grandmamma tells me that you take a 
 book to bed to read when you awake in the morn- 
 ing This is very serious. I should like a picture of 
 you when so occupied — M. Guillaume in bed with 
 a book in his hand, while all around are asleep. 
 What book is it 1 Tell me. I am curious to know. 
 ' You have no idea of what took place yesterday 
 in our garden. Late in the evening, after dinner, 
 we were still in it, about nine o'clock, when General 
 Colettis called on me. He walked off with some 
 one, I cannot remember who. Half an hour after- 
 wards we all went in, except General Colettis and 
 his companion. No one knew that they were still 
 there, and they did not find out that the doors and 
 blinds and shutters were all being closed up ; they 
 went on walking. About half-past ten, when they 
 wanted to go away, they found themselves impris- 
 oned in the garden. They called out and knocked. 
 Nobody heard them. So they both climbed up the 
 little wall on the side of the boulevard, and from the 
 top — all among the bushes and creepers — they 
 begged the passers-by to deliver them. At last 
 succour came, so they were not obliged to sleep 
 under the acacia. When I got up this morning, I 
 
232 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 heard for the first time of their captivity and their 
 deliverance.' 
 
 ' Here is another thunder-storm. I am writing- to 
 you, dear Pauhne, to the sound of thunder, and in a 
 room inundated by the rain. They are sponging it 
 all up as fast as they can. It is a great pity. We 
 have chosen a bad year for building our conserva- 
 tory and our orangery. We are not able to choose 
 our years ; we must take them as God sends them, 
 and turn them to the best account, be they sad or 
 gay, calm or stormy. You are not sad — are you, 
 my dear child, or stormy 1 Your letter says " No." 
 It is a very nice letter — long, well- written, and 
 very afi'ectionate. 
 
 ' I love you dearly, my dear little girl, and I have 
 never told you — any of you — 'how much that really 
 is. You are a good girl, and I hope you will be 
 happy ; I will do all I can to make you so. You 
 are very happy now — are you not? Every one 
 loves you. Your health is good ; you are fond of 
 Val- Richer, of your music, and of all your lessons 
 (may I venture to say allf) You amuse yourself, 
 you go oiit walking and driving, you enjoy every- 
 thing. My dear child, be happy and grateful, and 
 tell me all that happens to you, and everything that 
 enters your head.' 
 
 The father's tender prayer was entirely answered. 
 Thirty -three years later, the daughter, who scarcely 
 preceded him to the grave, said on her death bed to 
 her sister, her eyes overflowing with tears of grati- 
 tude, *I have been so happy, nothing has been 
 wanting in my life.' 
 
HE ACCEPTS THE FOREIGN OFFICE. 233 
 
 On the twenty-nintli of October, 1840, Europe 
 feared that war would set her in a blaze. The situ- 
 ation was now becoming less strained, and the 
 public mind was beginning to calm down. 
 
 ' I have received very good news from Alexan- 
 dria,' M. Guizot wrote to his mother on the twentieth 
 of June, 1841. ' I hope that at last we are going to 
 finish this business, and that a treaty will be signed 
 in London proclaiming the restoration of good feel- 
 ing between France and the rest of Europe. For 
 the last eight months I have been working for this 
 result, while endeavouring not to bring it on too 
 hastily. When it comes, I shall be very glad that 
 it was not hurried. We shall have exhibited dig- 
 nity as well as prudence. This will be one of the 
 great events in my life. From 1832 to 1835 I think 
 that I contributed more than any one else to main- 
 tain or re-establish order at home. In 1840 and 
 1841 I shall have obtained peace abroad. If I were 
 to retire from public life immediately afterwards, I 
 should, I think, carry with me the esteem of all 
 Europe. I hope that I shall not lose it if I remain.' 
 
 On the nineteenth of October, 1842, M. Guizot 
 wrote to M. de Barante, who was staying in the 
 country, having left St. Petersburg in consequence 
 of the ill-will manifested by the Emperor Nicholas 
 towards Louis-Philippe : — 
 
 ' My dear friend, I do not like to leave Auteuil 
 without replying to your letter. I return to Paris 
 to-morrow. It seems as if I were going back to the 
 noise and the crowds of the winter. There will be 
 
234 MONSIEUK GUIZOT IN PEIVATE LIFE. 
 
 none before tbe session opens ; on the contrary, I 
 shall gain the time which I now lose in the perpet- 
 ual coming and going, and yet the impression on 
 my mind is just as I tell you. Here it is rest, and 
 in Paris work. For the last six weeks I have been 
 working at public affairs with more care and fewer 
 interruptions than one has in the middle of the tur- 
 moil. I often regret these interruptions ; it is a 
 painful feeling to do ill what one is capable of doing 
 well, and what, if well done, would do a great deal 
 of good. In everything — in our own conduct as 
 in our fortunes — our great endeavour in life should 
 be to submit to imperfection, without being con- 
 tented with it, and to keep firm hold of our ambi- 
 tion, while we accept patiently our deficiencies. If 
 I am proud of myself for anything, it is for this. I 
 have learned to be contented with little while aspir- 
 ing to everything. The generation which you and 
 I have seen pass away lost itself by the folly of its 
 pretensions. The one which we see beginning is 
 too humble in its aspirations. 
 
 ' Your impression of the state of the country 
 pleases me much. I really think that we are on 
 the right road ; but we shall travel on it very slowly 
 and painfully. Setting aside all the evil propensi- 
 ties, all the germs of disorder which develope so 
 freely in democratic societies, they have the incura- 
 ble vice of lowering the stature of public men in 
 comparison with the greatness of the affairs which 
 they have to treat. 
 
 ' France has always been called to a lofty destiny, 
 
HE ACCEPTS THE FOREIGN OFFICE. 235 
 
 and its horizon is as wide as ever ; but the character 
 and aims of those who have to work out this destiny 
 sink lower and lower. In this lies a practical diflfi- 
 culty which meets you at every turn, of which I can 
 see no solution. I am convinced that this will be 
 the cause of my greatest difficulties in the approach- 
 ing session. I shall be continually obliged to force 
 higher views upon the public — that public on which 
 I and all of us depend, and which will feel wearied 
 and aggxieved by my endeavours.' 
 
 In the following year, on the second of Nov- 
 ember, 1843, he wrote again to M. de Barante, one 
 of the few among his friends whom neither fear 
 nor scruples could induce to destroy M. Guizot's 
 letters : — 
 
 ' I am very much in your debt, and so you have 
 given up writing to me. I am hard at work. I am 
 trying to put in a good train, and as forward as 
 possible, certain things which I shall not be able to 
 attend to when the Chambers have opened. Spain 
 and Greece are going on well. There is no other 
 news in Europe. 
 
 ' The reception at Eu was very successful on the 
 surface, and still more so in reality. If only the good 
 impression be not effaced ! A representative govern- 
 ment is like Louis XI., it makes a great many 
 blunders, and then repairs them. Everybody tells 
 me that the session will be a very easy one. I do 
 not believe a word of it. There is no such thing as 
 an easy session, but when affairs are going on pros- 
 perously people are easy in their minds. The beau- 
 
236 MOKSIEUE GUIZOT IN PRIYATE LIFE. 
 
 tiful words of Scripture, "They rest from their 
 labours, and their works follow them," do not apply- 
 to representative government ; those who return to 
 power do not rest from their labours, and their works 
 do not follow them. It is true that the Bible says 
 this only of the dead, and it is right in so saying. 
 Rest and justice are only for the dead. 
 
 ' However, the more experience I have had of 
 public life the more indifferent have I become to its 
 annoyances, vicissitudes, and trials. I am so hard- 
 ened to them that I scarcely notice them. The only 
 real sorrows are private and family sorrows. These 
 inflict wounds which time may close, but can never 
 heal, and which leaves the mind weaker and weaker, 
 and more and more incapable of enduring fresh ones.' 
 
 It was from the Chateau d'Eu that M. Guizot 
 wrote to his daughters on the first of September, 
 1843, while waiting for Queen Victoria: — 
 
 ' Thanks for your two letters, my dear children. 
 I received them yesterday evening as I went into 
 my bed-room. I will reply first to you, my dear 
 Henriette. Pascal says somewhere, " Who is to go 
 first? Is that man more worthy than I ami An 
 unanswerable question, an eternal dispute. He is 
 older, or has a higher title — no more difficulties. 
 Pass on." This is a great convenience in English 
 society. There is never any embarrassment, no one 
 is offended. At first I was somewhat scandalised by 
 seeing a boy of twenty — because he happened to be 
 a duke or a marquis — go out before a man whose 
 age or reputation entitled him to respect. I was 
 
HE ACCEPTS THE POEEIGN OFFICE. 237 
 
 wrong. In granting precedence to titles, we grant 
 nothing more ; we do not any the less acknowledge 
 the intrinsic superiority of personal merit; we only 
 suppress a number of vague and worrying pretensions 
 which disturb society. Every one knows his own 
 external rank. As to moral rank, it remains what 
 it really is — a question always open, a battle which 
 is always beginning again, and has to be won over 
 and over again. The result is a great deal of emula- 
 tion, which is the life of society, and very little envy, 
 which is its scourge. 
 
 ' I go on talking like a man who has slept well. 
 
 I was tired last night. I sleep as well in my carriage 
 
 as I did twenty years ago, and I have a much better 
 
 carriage than I had twenty years ago ; but I am 
 
 twenty years older. I feel well rested this morning, 
 
 and the weather continues superb — not a breath of 
 
 wind. This is what we want for to-morrow. The 
 
 entrance to the harbour of Treport is difficult. We 
 
 do not at all know at what o'clock the Queen will 
 
 appear. She ought to be off Cherbourg this evening. 
 
 She has a steam-yacht of great power — an engine of 
 
 450-horse power, in a very light ship. The Prince 
 
 de Joinville, who has gone to meet her, is in despair. 
 
 He says that he will never be able to keep up with 
 
 her with the Pluto and Archimede. 
 
 ' "Will she go on to Paris ? There are bets for and 
 against. I persist in believing that she will not. A 
 drive in the forest of Eu, with a grand luncheon 
 under a tent, a play and a concert — these are the 
 pleasures in store for her, without reckoning those of 
 
238 MONSIEUE GUIZOT IN PEIVATE LIFE. 
 
 our agreeable conversation. There is another much- 
 contested question — Will the King go to meet her 
 on sea ? This is a delicate jDoint. We have become, 
 and with reason, very anxious on the chapter of 
 possible accidents, only the King never will think 
 of them.' 
 
 It was at the Chateau d'Eu, in the midst of politi- 
 cal discussions, that the friendship between M. Guizot 
 and Lord Aberdeen, which had begun during M. 
 Guizot's embassy, became an intimacy. He writes 
 in his memoirs of this friend who afterwards became 
 so dear to him : — 
 
 ' Lord Aberdeen, the most liberal of Tories, was a 
 mail of serious and equable disposition, of clear and 
 acute judgment, with a mind at once lofty and 
 modest, penetrating, and reserved, and imperturbably 
 just. Always bowed down by sadness, for repeated 
 losses had wounded him in his tenderest affections, 
 he yet remained a warm-hearted and most delightful 
 companion, although his manner was cold and his 
 countenance austere. Wlien we first met, I was far 
 from guessing by what bonds of business and friend- 
 ship we were shortly to be united, but I felt drawn 
 towards him ; indeed, I may say, we each experienced 
 a sudden and natural attraction to the other.' 
 
 Eighteen months after the Queen's visit to the 
 Chateau d'Eu, when the debates on the Right of 
 Search with regard to vessels suspected of carrying 
 on the slave-trade were beginning in both countries, 
 M. Guizot wrote to Lord Aberdeen, on the twelfth 
 of Janiiary, 1 845 : — 
 
EGBERT PEEL. 
 
HE ACCEPTS THE FOEEIGIir OFFICE. 239 
 
 ' Lord Cowley gave me yesterday your despatch 
 of the ninth. I have only time to tell you that I 
 consider it entirely satisfactory, it agrees with my 
 opinions as well as with yours. It arrived in a lucky 
 moment ; the debate will be opened to-day in the 
 Chamber of Peers, and to-moiTow in the Chamber of 
 Deputies. I hope that it will have a happy issue in 
 both Chambers ; but, whatever occurs, you may rest 
 assured that I shall use your decision and your 
 words in no other sense than that in which you use 
 them. I do not thank you, but they have touched 
 me deeply. For the last three years, my dear Lord 
 Aberdeen, we have been canying on together a 
 good, honest, and noble policy. I have a firm be- 
 lief in its success, and that our two countries will 
 profit by its fruits ; but, whatever happens, I shall 
 always be deeply grateful to this policy, for to it I 
 owe your friendship. 
 
 ' More even than by your despatch of the ninth, I 
 am touched by the concluding lines of your private 
 letter of the third. I will not use more words than 
 you do. But believe that those few words reached 
 my heart, and will remain there. 
 
 ' Remember me, I pray, to Sir Robert Peel, and 
 ask him to bestow on me a little of the friendship he 
 entertains for you.' 
 
 Lord Aberdeen's Ministry fell, and just as it was 
 falling he wrote to his friend a few lines of regret 
 and tender, modest confidence which were never for- 
 gotten by M. Guizot. But England and the Govern- 
 ment of England remained unshaken, in spite of all 
 
240 MOKSIEUE GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 the uneasiness felt by all who were anxious for peace 
 in Europe. 
 
 In February, 1848, when M. Guizot fell in his 
 tuna, constitutional monarchy fell with him ; the 
 storm of revolution once more carried away the 
 shelter which France had considered safe. His 
 English friends were still ignorant of the fate of M. 
 Guizot, whom the Opposition impeached on the eve 
 of the overthrow of the Monarchy ; and Lord Aber- 
 deen was impatiently waiting, in sadness and anxiety, 
 for news of his friend. 
 
 One of Lord Aberdeen's daughters-in-law was 
 reading the newspaper to him : — 
 
 ' M. Guizot has been arrested ! ' she cried. It was 
 one of those false rumours which were continually 
 circulating at that time. She turned, and saw that 
 her father-in-law had fainted away in his arm-chair. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 1846-48. 
 
 REVOLUTION EXILE DEATH OF MADAME GUIZOT. 
 
 In spite of the violent parliamentary struggles wliich 
 followed the elections of 1846, M. Guizot seemed to 
 be triumphant and his policy firmly settled. He 
 continued, however, to regret the domestic enjoy- 
 ments which he was often obliged to sacrifice to the 
 duties of his position. 
 
 In 1847 he wrote to his younger daughter, who 
 was for a short time separated from her sister : — 
 
 ' Certainly, my dear Pauline, I will write to you 
 as often as I possibly can while you are at Trouville. 
 I have a great deal to do. The end of the session is 
 always overburthened with work. But I have been 
 long convinced that one never wants time for the 
 things one wishes very much to do, and I wish very 
 much to tell you frequently that I love you with all 
 my heart. What a pity that life is so short ! One 
 has not time enough to devote oneself entirely — to 
 show even all one feels to those we love. One has 
 only a dim perception of the joys which it would be 
 so delightful to experience, which might pervade 
 
 16 
 
242 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 everything and be renewed at every instant. And 
 so we grow old without having fully enjoyed the 
 happiness which might have been ours, and we sep- 
 arate, our hands still filled with the happiness which 
 we should have liked to give, and might have given, 
 to others. Thank God, my child, we are not separ- 
 ated for ever ! We shall see each other again some 
 day, but God alone knows what that day will be, or 
 what we ourselves shall be on that day. He has not 
 thought fit to show us the future life distinctly, but 
 he allows us to have glimpses of it. And I never 
 could understand, and I understand now less than 
 ever, how, without this prospect, we could endure 
 the trials of life, or resign ourselves to the thought 
 that its best enjoyments have so much that is incom- 
 plete and passing.' 
 
 Again, on the second of July : — 
 
 ' The letter I received from you this morning, 
 pleases and touches me, dear Pauline, and I will 
 answer it at once. You have reason to think your- 
 self happy, and I rejoice in seeing you enjoy so in- 
 tensely your own happiness. Preserve your joy and 
 your gratitude, my child, and do not give way to sad 
 presentiments. Yes, things are so arranged that we 
 are often not allowed the full enjoyment of the most 
 legitimate, the most lasting, happiness. Of those 
 whom we love, some leave us, and we leave others. 
 Our lives are linked with those who have preceded 
 us and those we have to leave behind; and both 
 these cherished ties are broken here to be renewed 
 hereafter in another world. Happy, thrice happy, 
 
REVOLUTION. 243 
 
 when they are broken only according to the natural 
 order of position and age, and when we are allowed 
 to retain them as long as the laws of nature usuall}' 
 permit. It is the premature blows, the unnatural 
 separations, which throw the mind off its balance. 
 We must bear them without murmuring, as the mys- 
 terious dispensations of Providence, who, from some 
 motive, unknown and incomprehensible to us, strikes 
 us on the very spot where we thought ourselves safe, 
 tears away from us the object which His ordinary 
 laws justified us in the hope of preserving, and adds 
 to the pain, of parting the unexpected anguish which 
 it is very difficult for us not to consider cruel and 
 unfair. 
 
 ' I have received two such blows, my dear child ; 
 I have twice closed the eyes of those dear ones who 
 ought to have closed mine. I submitted, and, I 
 venture to say, I submitted not as one submits to 
 necessity, but as one accepts the Divine Will, — 
 without any secret rebellion, but preserving my 
 faith and my gratitude. But I still feel the horrible 
 surprise of these blows. God grant that you may 
 be spared them ! May He visit you only with 
 natural trials such as our minds are forced to antici- 
 pate ! and may He give you at the same time the 
 courage which you will need to bear them, — they 
 will be sufficiently painful for you. I wish I could 
 think, my dear children, that I have exhausted your 
 share, as well as my own, of unexpected sorrows, — 
 the heaviest that we have to bear in life ! ' 
 
 In the beginning of August, M. Gruizot wrote to 
 his elder daughter : — 
 
244 MONSIEUE GUIZOT EST PKIVATE LIFE. 
 
 ' You are leading, my dear Henrietta, a quiet and 
 lonely life. My life is lonely, but not quiet. I am 
 lonely, although I am almost always in company. 
 My home is lonely. I have not you there to visit 
 five or six times a-day, to rest and refresh myself in 
 your company. With you, I forget my life of 
 labour and struggle, it always seems as if I left my 
 burden at the door. The older I grow, the more 
 room is occupied in my inmost heart by my aflFec- 
 tions. I do not say, as one often hears said, that 
 public life has disappointed me, that I am disgusted 
 with it, that I have no longer any ambition, even of 
 the best and noblest sort, that 1 have ceased to be 
 deceived by the world and mankind. This would 
 not be true. Public life has not deceived my ex- 
 pectations. I take as much interest and pleasure in 
 politics as I did twenty years ago. I have not 
 found either men, or human affaii-s, or the world, 
 below my anticipations. I have by no means the 
 feeling of beautiful illusions which have vanished, 
 of great expectations disappointed. I do not regret 
 the dreams of youth. On the contrary, I feel that 
 God has bestowed on me more than I fancied possi- 
 ble ; and experience has confirmed rather than 
 destroyed my most sanguine expectations. But 
 while the great and important interests which oc- 
 cuj)y my time have lost none of their value in my 
 eyes, I am convinced of their insufficiency to fill my 
 heart. Neither the engrossing occupations of poli- 
 tics, nor the excitement of opposition, nor the grati- 
 fications of vanity, have ever wholly absorbed and 
 
REVOLUTION-. 245 
 
 satisfied me. I have never been thoronglily and 
 really happy except through my affections, and in 
 the bosom of my affections : and if I should succeed 
 in everything else, it would be of very little conse- 
 quence to me if I had no one on whom to bestow 
 them. One's heart is one's life, and one's heart is in 
 the bosom of one's family. I can say this with more 
 authority than anyone, for I have known and tried 
 everything else. 
 
 ' The conclusion of all this is that I shall be very 
 happy on the fourteenth, as happy as you, my dear 
 child. I would willingly travel all night to spend 
 to-morrow with you and return hither the following 
 night. But this is impossible. My place to-morrow 
 is in the Chamber of Peers. I am anxious that the 
 end of the Session should go off well ; the last week 
 has been successful and I will neglect nothing. 
 
 ' I love jou with all my heart, my dear Henri- 
 ette, and I thank God for the present He gave me 
 eighteen years ago. How happy your mother 
 would be to-day, were she with us ! Among all 
 my regrets not one of the least is that I am not 
 able to share with her the happiness given me by 
 the children whom she bestowed on me. She sees 
 and enjoys it from her unknown dwelling, I am 
 convinced. May this idea be a reward and an en- 
 couragement for you. You should love the memory 
 of your mother — I dare not say as well as you 
 would have loved her, that is impossible, but you 
 should cherish her memory tenderly, very tenderly. 
 You will never know how much you owe to her, 
 
246 MONSIEUK GTJIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 although she left you so early. "When I shall have 
 really attained the rest of old age, I shall talk to 
 you of her more than I have ever yet done, in our 
 two nests — Val- Richer and the Rue Ville TEveque. 
 You shall know her through me. Here are kisses 
 for you and Pauline, from your mother as well as 
 from me. And you must, both of you, kiss for me 
 your excellent grandmother, who has stood by you 
 with a tenderness and devotion which has doubled 
 the gratitude I owed her on my own account. May 
 it please God to preserve her to us for a long time. 
 This is my prayer every day, and to-day more than 
 any other day. 
 
 * I hope you thought the dress I sent you pretty. 
 That giddy little Pauline has never told me if my 
 parcel reached you ; I think it did, however, she 
 would have told me if it had not. 
 
 ' I am delighted that you will have Rosine with 
 you to-morrow. You will never, in the course of 
 your life, meet with a more affectionate and excellent 
 friend ; or one in whose love and advice you may 
 place more implicit confidence. I wonder if she 
 will ever know how sincerely I esteem and am 
 attached to her. I shall, perhaps, some day say a 
 great deal more to her on this subject than I have 
 hitherto done. 
 
 ' Good-bye, my good, my dear Henriette. Time 
 is getting on. We shall be together on the last day 
 in the week, let us all pray that nothing may inter- 
 fere with this prospect. Farewell ; a thousand kisses. 
 I am not very tired. Guillaume is quite well, he 
 
REVOLUTION. 247 
 
 says that he is going to write an enormous letter to 
 you, to-day. We do not yet know the result of his 
 Greek essay. None of the examiners were profess- 
 ors of the College Bourbon. Guillaume was guilty 
 of a barbarism which somewhat damps his hopes. 
 He is nevertheless as merry as ever, and as impa- 
 tient as ever to see you again. The College fills up 
 his time, but not his heart.' 
 
 Whether far or. near, with them or away from 
 them, it was M. Guizot's delight to contrive little 
 pleasures and luxuries for those he loved. He often 
 himself chose dresses and ribbons for his daughters ; 
 in their absence he superintended the alterations in 
 their rooms. 
 
 ' I enjoy beforehand very much the new arrange- 
 ments in your apartment,' he writes. ' You will be 
 really well lodged; it will be large, healthy, and 
 comfortable. They promise me that the chimney 
 will not smoke any more. I had the steward with 
 me yesterday for ten minutes, looking into every 
 hole and corner of the apartment. Take care, how- 
 ever, of one thing, my dear children — do not ac- 
 custom yourselves to look upon all this grandeur, 
 this comfort, these adornments, as necessities. You 
 will lose them some day. I hope, indeed, that your 
 trials of this kind will not be as severe as mine have 
 been, and that you will not be reduced to such 
 narrow circumstances as I have sometimes expe- 
 rienced. I trust that I have secured for you a suffi- 
 ciently high position to start you well in life, but 
 even in this case you will probably not be as highly 
 
248 MONSIEUE GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 placed as you are just now. And in every position 
 poverty and vicissitudes are possible, and you may 
 not be spared these trials. Hold yourself well above 
 them. The reverses of fortune are light and indif- 
 ferent compared with those that touch our hearts 
 and wound us elsewhere than in our clothes and our 
 furniture. Losses of fortune must be taken and 
 borne not only with courage and dignity but with 
 calmness and cheerfulness, and considered as 
 scratches, not as real wounds in life. During my 
 youth, and more than my youth, I lived with the 
 most perfect models of fortitiide in this respect, and 
 to whom it came quite naturally. Some day when 
 I am at leisure I will tell you some anecdotes which 
 will touch you deeply, and at the same time make 
 you laugh. However, you have a living example 
 beside you.' 
 
 The day came, when, in the midst of the crum- 
 bling away of the whole structure of society, M. 
 Gruizot's children were to experience the instability 
 of all things human. A few months after receiving 
 the above letter, his second daughter, who had 
 taken refuge in London, replied laughingly to an 
 English friend, who asked her if she often went into 
 the Park, ' No ; because our carriage, the omnibus, 
 does not go tln-ough the Park.' The lesson which 
 her father had tried to inculcate came easily to her. 
 Events spoke more authoritatively than man, even 
 than the wisest and most beloved. The Revolution 
 of the twenty-fourth of February, 1848, carried away 
 everything at once — cherished hopes, brilliant pros- 
 
EXILE. 249 
 
 pects, laborious and anxious efforts persevered in for 
 a country which became more dear in proportion to 
 the changes and reverses of its fortunes. For a time 
 M. Guizot was deprived even of his country. He, 
 like his colleagues, was impeached, and forced to 
 seek an asylum in a foreign land. 
 
 At first M. Guizot did not think this necessary. 
 On the morning of the twenty -fifth of February, he 
 wrote to his elder daughter from the house of Ma- 
 dame de Mirbel : — 
 
 ' My dear Henriette, your few lines have made me 
 very happy, strange as the word seems to me at 
 present. You are always my first anxiety. Take 
 good care of your grandmother. Whether together 
 or apart God watches over us and will reunite us. 
 I had always a great friendship for M. and Madame 
 Lenormant, and I now love them as we love the 
 friends who have bestowed upon us the greatest pos- 
 sible service. I sleep well, and my health is good. 
 I have had no bodily fatigue, it is only my mind 
 that is tired, and very tired. It is impossible yet to 
 see clearly what ought to be done, either as regards 
 you or me. Let us remain where we are. I am 
 treated with an enthusiastic friendship which touches 
 me deeply. I received yesterday the most unwearied 
 kindness from a poor portress. I tell you this to 
 comfort and reassure you. Good-bye. My love to 
 you all. Do not let Guillaume go outside the door. 
 As soon as I see what ought to be done I will let 
 you know. Farewell again, my dearest. I should 
 like to embrace also all your hosts, all of them. 
 
250 MONSIEUK GUIZOT'IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 When you write tell me how Madame Lenormant is. 
 You may have to go out soon in order to arrange 
 our home in the Rue la Ville I'Eveque. Never go 
 go out except with Rosine or Madame de Stael.' 
 
 The revolutionary tempest raged more furiously, 
 and was more threatening to M. Guizot's personal 
 safety than he had at first suspected. When he left 
 Paris his children had preceded him into exile, they 
 were taken to England by some devoted friends. I 
 will borrow from a little narrative of those bitter 
 days, written by his second daughter, her recollection 
 of the moment when they all met again in a hospi- 
 table house in London. 
 
 ' On Friday, March third, at six o'clock in the 
 evening, M. de Rabaudy came to tell us that my 
 father had landed at Dover ; it was in an English 
 newspaper, we could hardly believe it. M. de Ea- 
 baudy said that he was going to the station to wait 
 for the arrival of the train. It was just eight years 
 since he had seen my father arrive in London as 
 Ambassador — we may truly say, "How times are 
 changed ! ". 
 
 ' I prayed over and over again that God would 
 sustain us if our hopes proved false. We scarcely 
 dared to trust to them ; and yet the heart is so in- 
 clined to believe the things it hopes for ! We sat 
 down to dinner listening to every noise. At seven 
 o'clock a carriage stopped at the door; at once I 
 jumped up, crying out, "Here he is!" I was not 
 allowed to look out .... we hear steps in the ante- 
 room, the door opens — it is he indeed ! God ! 
 
EXILE. 251 
 
 Thou only canst tell all that passed in our hearts 
 during this moment of such happiness as is seldom 
 granted in life. I cannot put it into words, I cannot 
 describe the instant when we found ourselves in his 
 arms, the remembrance is too deeply graven on my 
 heart for me to be able to express it. As my father 
 said, " There are in life great compensations : the 
 greatest joys follow the greatest sorrows." We went 
 on gazing at him, and crying out, "Father! father!" 
 
 ' He looked very pale and tired ; he had suffered 
 so much. Thank Heaven his escape was very easy ! 
 After leaving the Ministry of the Interior, about one 
 o'clock on Thursday, twenty-fourth (M. Odillon 
 BaiTot was just being brought thither), my father was 
 hidden by Madame Duchatel in the room of a por- 
 tress in the Kue Vanneau. In the evening Madame 
 de Mirbel came to fetch him, and took him to her 
 house ; she hid him there, and looked after him with 
 unwearied devotion until Wednesday, March first, 
 when he left Paris with M. de Fleischmann, who 
 took him as his valet as far as Brussels, by the 
 Northern Railroad. When there my father was out 
 of danger ; and at Ostend he took the steamboat to 
 Dover. He Avas not recognised on the road, al- 
 though he waited- at the station in Paris for an hour 
 and a quarter. The train, which was to have started 
 at seven, did not set off till a quarter-past eight. 
 What thanksgivings we should offer up to Grod ! ' 
 
 Madame Guizot alone was wanting to complete 
 the reunion of the family. She was obliged to re- 
 main in Paris because no carriage could pass in the 
 
252 MONSIEUE GUIZOT IN PEIVATE LIFE. 
 
 streets, which were blocked in every direction by 
 barricades. Her strength of mind astonished the 
 faithful friends who suiTounded her. She was left 
 at first to the tender care of M. and Madame Lenor- 
 mant, and afterwards she waited at the house of 
 Mademoiselle de Latour Chabaud until it became 
 possible for her to undertake the journey, in which 
 her faithful friend was to accompany her. At times 
 the prospect of leaving home, at her advanced age, 
 for a foreign country, seemed to frighten her. 'I 
 will go to join them ! ' she then repeated ; and her 
 strong will gained the victory over the feeble body, 
 which had been shaken by so many trials. During 
 those days of violence her grandchildren often 
 blessed God for the deafness which prevented her 
 hearing the cries constantly vociferated under the 
 windows of the ' Biblioth^qiie Roy ale,' in which they 
 were concealed. To the sound of the (Ja ira, 
 which would have revived such sinister recollections 
 in her mind, were joined perpetually the threats, 
 ' Down with Guizot ! Give us Guizot's head ! ' 
 
 M. Guizot awaited his mother's arrival with equal 
 courage and anxiety. On the thirteenth of March 
 he wrote to M. de Barante : — 
 
 ' Dear friend, thank you for your few lines. My 
 exile is as tolerable as I could expect. When my 
 mother reaches us, and I expect her this week, I « 
 shall be surrounded by all the chief objects of my 
 love. I am very well received here ; almost as well 
 as if there were no gi-ievance against me. But I am, 
 and shall remain, profoundly sad. What a spectacle ! 
 
EXILE. 253 
 
 what a future ! In spite of my optimism, I always, 
 in my inmost soul, believed the evil to be very 
 great, and this was one of the reasons why I strug- 
 gled so ardently against it. I did not, however, 
 thoroughly appreciate its extent. It was not until I 
 came hither that I knew how great it was. 
 
 ' To-day there is a large meeting of Chartists — 
 twelve or fiteen thousand of them — at Kennington, 
 close to London ; they have met to ask for only 
 half of what the Communists demand in Paris. The 
 walls are covered with handbills, issued by the 
 police, forbidding all assembling for the purpose of 
 going in procession to the meeting: exactly like 
 Delessert's proclamation three weeks ago. Every- 
 body — on one side the Du.ke of Norfolk and Lord 
 Lincoln, on the other the 2000 Thames stevedores 
 — the whole of the aristocracy and of the respectable 
 classes, down to a very low stratum, rally round the 
 Government, and rush to swear themselves in as 
 special constables to su.pport it against violence. 
 There will be at Kennington more volunteers to 
 repress disturbance than to make it. This is a fine, 
 yet a painful sight to me. 
 
 ' I shall say no more. I have too much to say. 
 Both my mind and my heart are full. I intended to 
 have added a few words to express my ardent friend- 
 ship, my constant affection, my intense regret that I 
 can see you no more. 
 
 ' I shall set to work again. I have found, close 
 to London — at Brompton — a little house, which is 
 almost in the country ; it is good enough for us, and 
 
254 MON'SIEUK GTJIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 inexpensive. I shall be able to go into London easily 
 every day. Farewell, my dear, dear friend ! ' 
 
 Already, indeed, M. Giiizot had returned to work, 
 moved as much by external necessity as by his own 
 inclinations. The income which he derived from 
 France was very insufficient ; his salaries from the 
 University and the Institute were sequestrated, and 
 he was determined to have recourse only at the last 
 extremity to the offers of money which poured in 
 upon him from all quarters. He accepted an offer of 
 literary assistance made to him by M. Lenormant, 
 who had formerly supplied his place as Professor of 
 Literature. 
 
 ' I do not pretend to thank you, my dear friend,' 
 he wrote, on the twenty-fourth of March, ' but I want 
 to tell you how deeply I am touched by yotu- letter, 
 not more, however, but as much as I have been by 
 all your and your excellent wife's kindness during 
 those terrible days. To you I owe the greater part 
 of all the fortitude I could summon during the time 
 when I was separated from my family. Now that I 
 have them all round me, and that I am about to 
 begin work, I accept, without hesitation, your pro- 
 posal of collaboration ; and I hope, that as well as 
 being very useful to myself, it will not be unprofit- 
 able to you. 
 
 ' Here are my projects. I intend to resume them 
 all at once : — 
 
 ' 1. My History of the English Revolution. I have 
 reached the Republic and Cromwell. I can write it 
 here (in two volumes) with all the available materials 
 
EXILE. 255 
 
 in print or MS. ; everybody will put them at my 
 disposal. 
 
 ' 2. My History of France as Told to my Children. 
 I began it at Val-Richer, in 1839, and I have writ- 
 ten three chapters. I think I could write in six 
 volumes a history which would be of real value in 
 itself, and interesting and readable in its form, and 
 likely to become generally popular. I wish you 
 would send me a list of all the histories of France 
 which have appeared since Sismondi — small and 
 great, elementary summaries, or learned works. I 
 have lost sight of this kind of literature ; I must 
 renew my acquaintance with it. I shall see which 
 of these books I can get here, and I shall ask you 
 to send me any that are worth having, and that I 
 cannot obtain here. I could get on quickly with 
 this work ; and I think that even here it would have 
 a great sale. 
 
 ' 3. You have anticipated my third project : I 
 intend to continue my History of Civilization in 
 France. A great many important materials are not 
 to be found here, especially as regards the philo- 
 sophical and literary part ; these facts are collected 
 nowhere, and must be searched for in every direc- 
 tion. Your collaboration can alone supply this 
 defect. You must beat up the whole country, start 
 all the game, and send it to me ; I will endeavour 
 to cook it. To begin with, please to find and send 
 me a list of the principal books and documents 
 which you think are indispensable for the period at 
 which I stopped (the twelfth, thirteenth, and four- 
 
256 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 teenth centuries). I will see what I can find here, 
 and I shall begin to arrange and stimulate my ideas. 
 Tell me what you yourself did, and published at the 
 end of your lectures on this subject ; I am quite in 
 the dark now.' 
 
 A few days later (on the thirty -first of March) M. 
 Guizot's mother expired in the little house which he 
 had hired at Brompton — without pain or struggle, , 
 like a tired workman whose task is finished. The 
 sufferings and anxieties of the last few days, the 
 effort it had cost her to rejoin her son, used up all 
 her remaining physical strength. Her moral cour- 
 age and her tenderness were inexhaustible to the 
 end. When she could no longer speak her eyes 
 followed the movements of those she loved with 
 affectionate interest. And yet she died without 
 regret, murmuring at the last moment, ' I am going 
 to join him,' thus faithful to the memory of her hus- 
 band she had lost fifty-four years earlier, and whose 
 image had been ever present in her heart. Her last 
 wish testified to this unceasing remembrance. ' You 
 will leave me here ! ' she said to her son, ' as I can- 
 not rest by your father's side I will stay where God 
 has brought me.' 
 
 When she first set foot in London, and found her- 
 self in the ai-ms of her son and her grandchildren, she 
 said, ' Now I am willing to die ! ' Hardly a fort- 
 night had elapsed, when she died, in the full posses- 
 sion of her faculties ; strong, simple, and natural to 
 the last, supported by the unshaken faith which had 
 carried her through so many trials, and leaving to 
 
DEATH OF MADAME GUIZOT. 257 
 
 all who knew her the remembrance of the most 
 unaffected and unquestioned power of authority, and 
 a dignity which attained to majesty. 
 
 ' I think I see her still,' M. de St. Beuve writes,* 
 — ' and who that had once had the honour of seeing 
 her could ever forget M. Guizot's venerable mother, 
 in her simple, antique dress — her countenance with 
 its strong and deep expression, its sweet austerity, 
 which called to my mind the portraits of the nuns 
 of Port Royal, and which in default of Philippe de 
 Champagne has been preserved for us by one of the 
 most refined painters of our age,t — that mother of 
 the C Avenues, t who kept until the end of her days 
 the most devoted and submissive of sons 1 — I think 
 I see her now in the official saloon which she only 
 passed through, and in which she appeared for a 
 moment as the living representative of faith, sim- 
 plicity, and of those substantial virtues which were 
 brought to light by persecution at the time of the 
 JDeserV 
 
 Her death was worthy of her life. Her last act 
 of devotion was to brave fatigue and suffering, and 
 break through all her usual habits, to join her exiled 
 son. The eternal country was opened to her by 
 God. 
 
 ' Dear Friend,' M. Guizot wrote on the first of 
 April to Madame Lenormant, ' God has just called 
 
 * Nouvelles Causeries du Lundi, vol. ix. 
 
 t Ary Soheffer, whom M. Guizot used to call the painter of 
 souls. 
 
 X See p. 1. 
 
 17 
 
258 MONSIEUE GUIZOT IN PEIVATE LIFE. 
 
 my mother to Himself. She bore the journey won- 
 derfully ; last Saturday she seemed to have caught 
 a little cold without any apparent reason, on Tues- 
 day she had a shivering fit, which frightened me. 
 On Wednesday the cold seemed to he almost gone, 
 but was followed by general irritation and weak- 
 ness, scarcely any suffering, but an involuntary 
 jerking in all her limbs. Yesterday even this symp- 
 tom disappeared. She bade us her last farewell, 
 gave us her last counsels, saw us and heard us to 
 the very last moment, and expired at half-past seven 
 o'clock with as much physical as mental tranquillity. 
 I shall be eternally grateful to the friends who sent 
 and brought her to me. She owed to them the rest 
 and happiness of her last days, I owe to them the 
 not being separated from her until the last moment, 
 when God, not man, ordained it. 
 
 ' She loved jon much, very much, my dear friend, 
 and also your husband and children. She continu- 
 ally talked of the time she spent with you, and of 
 your care and affection. You will shed tears over 
 her memory, and you will consider it a happiness in 
 your life to have known and loved her. Tell your 
 aunt,* from me that my mother was thinking a great 
 deal about her not six days ago. Pauline has a little 
 cold, otherwise my children are well. I am now left 
 alone with them — the affections which belong to 
 the future. The chapter of my past affections is 
 closed.' 
 
 * Madame Edcamier. 
 
DEATH OF MADAME GUIZOT. 259 
 
 And a few days later, on the sixth of April : — 
 ' Pauline's cold is going off; Gruillaume has re- 
 sumed his studies with me. He finds them rather 
 solitary ; not so attractive as his college studies, but 
 I will do my best to make up for what he has lost. 
 He likes conversation, and is naturally fluent and 
 animated. I would not trust him to anyone but 
 you, but for the present I shall keep him with me. 
 It would be a very painful separation for us all, and 
 I think that, on the whole, it is better that he should 
 remain with us. You have a real mother's heart for 
 my children, and I never receive a letter from you 
 that does not touch my father's heart to the quick, 
 and also my heart as a son. You have cause for 
 loving my mother as much as you did, and will 
 always love her ; she loved you tenderly and 
 thought about you a great deal. Write to me as 
 you would have done to her about your health, and 
 take care of it, as she advised you. Alas ! our little 
 house is now arranged with reference to her eternal 
 absence. We followed her yesterday to her last 
 home in the Kensal Green Cemetery. A part of it 
 is reserved for Dissenters — Presbyterians, and oth- 
 ers — in which I have bought a plot, and her name 
 will be there. I am sure that she would not object 
 to anything in all this.' 
 
 On the tomb of Madame Guizot, who died at the 
 age of eighty-four in a foreign land, are engraved 
 the same words as are inscribed on that of her 
 granddaughter, Madame Comelis de Witt, who died 
 at the age of forty -three after an equally active and 
 useful life : — 
 
260 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PEIVATE LIFE. 
 
 ' Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord from 
 henceforth, that they rest from their labours, and 
 their works do follow them.' 
 
 On the fifteenth of April, M. Guizot wrote to M. 
 de Barante : — 
 
 ' Indeed you speak truly, my dear friend, when 
 you tell me that my heart would have ached all my 
 life if my mother had died away from me. She had 
 scarcely seated herself, on the day of her arrival, 
 when she said to me, "Now I am willing to die." 
 She passed away almost without any illness or suffer- 
 ing', her body almost as easy as her mind ; and I 
 never knew a mind so full of strong feeling, and at 
 the same time so serene. 
 
 ' She took, of late years, a most affectionate in- 
 terest in you and Madame de Barante, and the poor 
 child you lost, and often talked of her to my daugh- 
 ters. She was one of those whom it is impossible, 
 and it would be wrong, to forget. 
 
 'My children are well. I see a great deal of 
 them. Guillaume has resumed his studies with me. 
 I learn again what he learns. We are reading to- 
 gether Homer and Thu.cydides, Virgil and Tacitus, 
 and we talk interminably of what we read. This 
 does not make up for college, — nothing can do so. 
 It was to him like a country in which one is engaged 
 in public life ; but he gets constant employment and 
 an intellectual stimulant which he enjoys. 
 
 ' My girls are very busy and very happy. Cour- 
 age comes easily to well-disposed natures, and the 
 early trials of life excite more than they tire us. I 
 
DEATH OF MADAME GUIZOT. 261 
 
 have established myself a little out of London, where 
 I was liable to be invaded by visitors, some of them 
 real friends and othei's only curious and idle. 
 
 ' I have begun writing again — the History of the 
 English JRevolution and that of Civilisation in France. 
 I am as much interested in my work as ever, and I 
 see into it much more clearly. I also began, ten 
 years ago, at Val-Richer, one summer when I was at 
 leisure, a History of France for my Children, which, 
 as I went on with it, grew fit for other readers 
 besides children. I shall continue it. 
 
 ' I was very tired, especially mentally tired, last 
 winter. Tired and sad ; not that I foresaw what has 
 happened, but I felt that I was engaged in a struggle, 
 which, instead of finishing, success aggravated. I 
 was engaged in a never-ending fight with vulgar 
 errors and low passions. I am recovering from this 
 painful state of mind ; I enjoy my liberty, my absence 
 of responsibility, in a climate which although not 
 mild is healthy. 
 
 * When I look abroad, all my thoughts are sad ; 
 but not so when I look within. I wait, and shall go 
 on waiting with patience as long as God pleases, and 
 without knowing what may be in store for me. My 
 mind is not discouraged, nor have I lost confidence 
 in my cause. This makes resignation easy, even a 
 resignation which will have to last a long time, and 
 to which I see no end.' 
 
 It was with this calm fortitude and unconquerable 
 optimism that M. Guizot waited for whatever fortune 
 Providence might have in store for him. He tried to 
 
262 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 inspire his children with his own unshaken devotion 
 to his country. On the twentieth of July, 1848, 
 he wrote his son, who was spending a few days in 
 the country : — 
 
 ' My dear child, I do not like you to return with- 
 out having received a few lines from me. Thank 
 you for your letter of this morning. Make yourself 
 quite easy, you need not use many words to express 
 your affection for me. I know and I rejoice over it 
 in my inmost heart without saying much about it on 
 my side : real happiness in trae affection does not 
 consist in words, but in the mutual confidence which 
 dispenses with them. 
 
 ' I am delighted that you have had the opportunity 
 of riding again. I hope that, in spite of the long in- 
 terruption, you have done honour to French horse- 
 manship, which is not in great repute in England. I 
 hope that you will tell me who gave you this mount. 
 
 ' You will not find any great events in the papers 
 you have not read. There will be, however, enough 
 to interest you. You take a lively interest in every- 
 thing which happens in France, and you are right. 
 One must love one's country and devote oneself to 
 it, — love it even in its blindness and ingratitude. 
 Your generation will have to do much, in France and 
 for France. You will not succeed entirely, nor will 
 you be fully satisfied with your efforts. A very 
 incomplete and a very dearly-bought success is the 
 best that we can hope for in this world. I trust, 
 however, that your share of success will be larger 
 than ours has been, and not so dearly bought.' 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 1848-52. 
 
 EETUEN FROM EXILE — THE COUP d'^TAT. 
 
 The first dawn of hope for the country's approaching 
 recovery appeared on the horizon during the fearful 
 days of June, 1848. 
 
 ' I long to press your, and your husband's, hands,' 
 M. Guizot wrote to Madame Lenormant, on the first 
 of July. ' God grant that you may not again have 
 to pass through such terrible convulsions ! I can 
 think of nothing but Paris, and of you in Paris. Do 
 you know that the effect here has been very good ? 
 France needed to prove that she was still alive. She 
 has given this proof. A society which, after having 
 let everything go, has shown that she was capable of 
 defending herself in this way, is not yet dead, or 
 likely to die. The English say that she must always 
 be taken into consideration ; and they are beginning 
 to say that, after having thrown Europe into con- 
 fusion, she is showing the way to escape from con- 
 fusion. Have we really taken the first decisive step 
 out of social anarchy ? Is political anarchy now our 
 
264 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PEIVATE LIFE. 
 
 only enemy ! This would be quite enough ; and yet 
 it would be a great thing to have nothing worse.' 
 
 Social anarchy was diminishing, but political 
 anarchy was to have a long duration. M. Guizot 
 was not invited to step into the arena to oppose it. 
 Several constituencies talked of sending him as their 
 representative to the new Assembly, which was to 
 meet in 1849 ; but whether from timidity or pru- 
 dence, some of the Conservatives opposed his nomina- 
 tion, lest it should provoke hostility. M. Guizot 
 insisted on announcing publicly, in a short address 
 to the newspapers of Calvados, that he continued to 
 be, as he had always been, a Liberal-Conservative, 
 without ceasing to be, from intimate conviction and 
 principle, an adherent of Constitutional Monarchy. 
 But having done this, he awaited in England the 
 decision of his friends. 
 
 On the eighteenth of April, 1849, he wrote to his 
 elder daughter : — 
 
 ' You have not told me the exact state of your 
 throat. Take care of yourself, and bring it back to 
 me quite cured. It is very cold here, and it must 
 be colder still on the Kent hills. I came home 
 yesterday at four o'clock covered with snow, and last 
 night there was a regular storm. The mail has, 
 however, arrived, but without bringing me anything, 
 at least up to the present moment. I seldom get my 
 letters from Paris before three o'clock. Yesterday 
 there was a deluge of newspapers of all sorts ; fifteen 
 of them with articles on my address. The Temps, 
 the Pays, the Credit, the Vraie Eepuhlique, the Bepu- 
 
EETUEN FROM EXILE. 265 
 
 lue, &c. Fury on the part of the Republicans, 
 terror on that of the Moderates. I represent Monar- 
 chy. All this will certainly not help forward my 
 election, but will give me the position which suits me. 
 I am used to a mixture of compliment and abuse, 
 but I never had so much. We are keeping all the 
 papers for you. 
 
 ' No news from Calvados. I am convinced that 
 being already uneasy, this hubbub of newspapers 
 will frighten the electors still more, and that they 
 will take refuge in saying respectfully that their 
 minds are not made up. We shall spend the sum- 
 mer at Val- Richer. Let us pray for fine weather. 
 Rest, and an agreeable occupation, our own circle, 
 a pretty country, and fine weather — I shall enjoy 
 it all exceedingly.' 
 
 M. Guizot's candidature was given up. He went 
 back to Val-Richer in July, 1849, a few months 
 after the Act of Amnesty, which once more allowed 
 him and his colleagues to return to their country. 
 He had found in England real friends, and a gene- 
 ral sympathy and respect which profoundly touched 
 him and softened his exile : it was exile, however ; 
 and he rejoiced greatly on finding himself back in 
 France, in his beloved home, and surrounded by 
 friends who came eagerly to welcome him. 
 
 He was anxious, but not alarmed, at the state of 
 the country. 
 
 ' Do not fear that I shall be out of heart and spir- 
 its,' he wrote to Mrs. Austin, one of the most intimate 
 and constant of his English friends. ' I am, indeed, 
 
266 MOITSIEUK GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 sad, but my sadness is not of the kind that depresses 
 and irritates the mind. I continue to have faith in 
 my country's future, and in the good cause which 
 will in time triumph in France. I think that the 
 disease which has attacked society in our country 
 and in many others, is very serious, and we are in 
 one of the most shameful phases of the malady ; but 
 I am determined not to believe, and I do not really 
 believe, that this can be the end of the glorious his- 
 tory of France. We shall yet recover from it. As 
 for me, personally, I have enjoyed so much happi- 
 ness, and endured so much sorrow, both public and 
 private, in the course of my already long life, that I 
 feel I have no right to complain. One of your most 
 chivalrous noblemen, the Duke of Ormond, said, 
 after the death of his son. Lord Ossory, "I had 
 rather have my dead son than any other living son," 
 I say the same thing with regard to my lost happi- 
 ness. In my public life, God has honoured me by em- 
 ploying me to effect three great things — public edu- 
 cation, the foundation of a free government, and the 
 preservation of peace. Of these three hard tasks 
 the third has succeeded beyond my expectations ; 
 the strain that it is bearing at this moment proves this. 
 I own that the two former have a doubtful aspect ; 
 but I am convinced that it is more in appearance 
 than in reality. We are going through a storm. I 
 believe, firmly, that the opinions I have endeavoured 
 to disseminate, the institutions I have tried to estab- 
 lish, will be purified rather than destroyed by it. I 
 shall, perhaps, not witness their success, but I shall 
 
RETURN FROM EXILE. 267 
 
 have watclied over their infancy. With regard to 
 my home hfe, God has taken from me the lovehest 
 and sweetest of the gifts He bestowed on me ; 
 but they once were mine, and I enjoyed them in- 
 tensely, and I still enjoy them intensely. I should 
 consider myself unjust and ungrateful, not only 
 towards God, but towards those excellent and 
 charming beings who were mine during so many' 
 years, if the joys which they lavished on me did 
 not still find an echo in my heart. They people 
 and charm my solitude to this day. I ought not to 
 say my solitude, for I have round me my children, 
 who are very happy and very affectionate to me. 
 But I will tell you, my dear Mrs. Austin, the hidden 
 anxiety of which I try never to speak. I have lost 
 all feeling of safety in the objects of my affections, 
 and I no longer feel myself able to bear any new 
 blows which may be laid on me. May God spare 
 them to me.' 
 
 A perpetual, incurable anxiety about those who 
 were left to him was indeed the secret malady which 
 constantly tormented M. Guizot's mind. He never 
 let them feel the weight of it by excessive and tire- 
 some precautions. The cruel recollection of past 
 griefs made his tenderness only still more deeply 
 felt in the present. 
 
 ' Your letter on Thursday, my dear child,' he 
 wrote to his son, on the sixteenth of October, 1849, 
 ' went to my heart. No, certainly, one affection does 
 not need to turn out another in order to find a place 
 in my heart. I love your brother FranQois as if he 
 
268 MONSIETJE GUIZOT IN PEIVATE LIFE. 
 
 were with me still, and I love you as if you had 
 always been my only son. I intend to talk to you 
 of him ; to tell you how excellent, how charming he 
 was, and why I had such hopes of his future. It is 
 for you, my dear child, to realise those hopes. I 
 rely on this, and I will help you by giving you on 
 all occasions my sincere advice and warnings. 
 
 ' To begin at once : put your college studies be- 
 fore everything else, never steal from them any time 
 unless they can well spare it. Give all your care 
 to doing this work well, as well as you can ; this is 
 the work of greatest importance for me as well as 
 for you, I care more about it than about any little 
 commissions I may give you. When I have any 
 that are pressing, I will tell you that they are so. 
 You are right in continuing your studies on the plan 
 which you pursued at King's College ; let this, how- 
 ever, not prevent your conforming exactly to the 
 habits, methods, and conditions of French studies, 
 and fully satisfying them. One must belong first to 
 one's own country, and adopt all that is good in its 
 method of study, and afterwards one should borrow 
 all the good one can find in the systems of other 
 countries. I am delighted that you are going on so 
 well, and are so well pleased with a student's life. 
 You will be able to amass in it stores of strength 
 and happiness for your public life — strength for the 
 good and happiness for the evil days. 
 
 ' When you have time tell me a little about the 
 French books M. Nisard makes you read and the 
 remarks he makes on them. You will not, however, 
 
RETURN FROM EXILE. 269 
 
 be obliged to take up your time in writing to me for 
 long ; we shall return to Paris in a month, towards 
 the fifteenth of November ; it will be a great delight 
 for us all. And talking takes much less time than 
 writing, and can be done at any hour. Farewell, 
 my child, I embrace you from my heart.' 
 
 M. Guizot had the happiness of marrying his 
 daughters to his satisfaction in March and May, 1850 
 — Conrad and Cornelis de Witt became really his 
 sons — and the family circle, while it extended, drew 
 round its head with as close an intimacy as ever. It 
 was a source of great rest as well as enjoyment to 
 his mind. ' There is only one position which I envy,' 
 he said, laughing, in earlier days, ' it is that of a man 
 who has married his daughters to his liking.' ' I am 
 now one of those who ought to inspire envy,' he 
 repeated afterwards. All his children were gathered 
 round him at Val-Richer; he admitted into the 
 family circle the only sister of his sons-in-law. Ma- 
 demoiselle Elisabeth de Witt, as well as their mater- 
 nal aunt, Mademoiselle Temminck. The latter spent 
 the last years of her life there, and died without ever 
 having left Val-Richer. M. Guizot continued assid- 
 uously his literary labours, in which the History of 
 the English Revolution held the first place. A few 
 articles on passing events and a few short journeys 
 alone interrupted its progress. 
 
 M. Guizot wrote to his elder daughter from the 
 banks of the Rhine during the summer of 1850 : — 
 
 ' This day, again, is yours, my dear Henriette. I 
 
270 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PEIVATE LIFE. 
 
 have calculated that if I did not write to you until 
 to-morrow, my letter would not reach you before the 
 seventh instead of the sixth. As I am far off, I must 
 be very particular to make up for my sacrifice in not 
 being near you. It is a real sacrifice. 
 
 ' Grod has blessed you, my dear child ; may He 
 preserve the blessings He has granted you, may 
 He confer upon you new ones every year, and may 
 He enable you to deserve all that He will give you, 
 and to bow without murmuring before those that He 
 withholds from you. To have a lively enjoyment of 
 His gifts and not to murmur at His corrections — 
 this is the whole of life. Sorrow even without re- 
 pining is very bitter, but it does not overwhelm the 
 mind. I dare not hope that God will always spare 
 you trials ; one does not live, one is not happy with- 
 out incurring the cost. I trust that at least the 
 foundation of your happiness may not be disturbed, 
 that God may allow you always to keep the protect- 
 ing arm which He has bestowed on you for your 
 support in rough paths. I can ofii"er but one prayer 
 for you, my dear child, and it is the same for both 
 of you. Take care of each other, do not indulge too 
 much in the blind and hasty confidence of youth. 
 I shall soon be with you to watch over you myself, 
 as much as it is possible to do so. 
 
 ' I have not yet had a line from any of you. I 
 expected a letter yesterday. In reckoning over again 
 I am not much surprised at my mistake. It was a 
 mistake, however. I have seen Guillaume's hand- 
 writing on a letter which he sent me on from Paris. 
 
RETURN FROM EXILE. ,271 
 
 This was something, but I hope for better things 
 to-day. 
 
 ' I shall probably spend the morning at Stolzenfels, 
 the King of Prussia's fine castle on the Rhine. I am 
 very well, and I greatly enjoy the very pretty scenery 
 which surrounds me. Yesterday I climbed, stick in 
 hand, to the highest point of my favourite hill among 
 the seven or eight which enclose Ems. I thought 
 that there would be some glory in this ascent. Not 
 in the least. A wide path, rather steep, but even 
 and well kept, reaches to the very top, with benches 
 at intervals on which one may enjoy at one's ease 
 the changing views of the valley and the river, which 
 are seen alternately as the road turns at every 500 
 steps. Three quarters of an hour to ascend and 
 twenty minutes to descend. It is a delightful walk. 
 After dinner I went to see Nassau, a very pretty 
 little town, which I reached in an hour. Above the 
 town, on a solitary height, crowned with dark-green 
 woods, stand the ruins of the ancient Castle, the 
 birthplace of the House of Nassau ; in the town it- 
 self, surrounded by fine lawns and beautiful modern 
 trees — catalpas, weeping willows, and tulip-trees — 
 stands the Castle (restored and enlarged thirty years 
 ago) of Baron Stein, who retired thither in 1814, 
 after quarrelling with the King of Prussia for not 
 having kept the promise made to the national party 
 who had delivered his kingdom. I went in and 
 asked to see the room in which M. Stein lived and 
 died ; it is in a tower which he built himself, at one 
 of the angles of the Castle. An old Beschukerinn, 
 
272 MONSIEUE GITIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 well dressed, and with a good, gentle, grave face, 
 came to open the door. In Baron Stein's study his 
 writing-desk, and all the furniture, are in ebony; it 
 contains a recumbent statuette of Christ, after the 
 descent from the cross, in white marble ; the por- 
 traits of Luther, Melancthon, of some ancestors, and 
 of Baron Stein himself. Everywhere appear his 
 arms ; there are bas-reliefs of saints, — St. Adalbert, 
 St. Alexander Nevski, — all this Christian and feudal 
 medley in a modem, brand-new building ; deep and 
 elevated memories and sentiments mingled with a 
 certain amount of childish affectation. I offered a 
 thaler to the Beschiitserinn as I went out ; she pushed 
 away my hand gently, — she did not want either to 
 accept the money or to offend me ; she was pleased 
 by my homage to the memory of her old master, and 
 did not wish to be paid. I did not press her, and I 
 went away. 
 
 ' The Castle is inhabited only by Baron Stein's 
 daughter, the Countess von Giech, a widow, already 
 passed middle age. I did not give my name. I 
 should have had to see her, and I wanted only to see 
 the relics of her dead father.' 
 
 Hardly two years had elapsed since the fall of the 
 political edifice to which M. Guizot had attached 
 ' the labour of his life and the worldly glory of his 
 name,' * when the King, Louis-Philippe, passed away 
 from earth, — he died at Claremont on the twenty- 
 sixth of August, 1850. 
 
 * From M. Guizot's will. 
 
mOSSS^^ 
 
 E.l\oi^rAj 
 
 /dlkJi&tJ ' 
 
 LOUIS PHILIPPE. 
 
EETUEN FEOM EXILE. 273 
 
 Some of M. Griiizot's children were at that time 
 travelling in England, he wrote to them imme- 
 diately : — 
 
 ' When you arrived at the Brunswick Hotel, you 
 must have found General Dumas' letter announcing 
 the King's death. I suppose that you start to-day for 
 Ketteringham. You should all tlu'ee wear correct 
 mourning for the King. It is a political and personal 
 duty. You are in England, so wear exactly the sort 
 of mourning which the English would wear for their 
 King. 
 
 ' Write to Madame MoUien, who is at Claremont, 
 and ask her to be so good as to present your re- 
 spectful sympathy to the Queen. A week before you 
 leave, write to Madame Mollien, or General Dumas, 
 to ask if the Queen has any commands for you ; and 
 say that you do not ask to pay your respects to her, 
 as you do not know if she can see anyone, but that 
 if she would receive you, you would be very happy 
 to wait upon her, and very grateful for the permis- 
 sion. 
 
 ' The King's death did not take me by surprise. 
 It is an interesting event for the world, and especially 
 for me. He occupied a large place in my life, and 
 my name has been very much connected with his. 
 The world has seen very few such good kings, as, 
 on the whole, he was. He gave France eighteen 
 years of the most just, mild, free, and sensible 
 government that she has ever known, or that, prob- 
 ably, she ever will know.' 
 
 The name of M. Guizot was never connected with 
 
 18 
 
274 MONSIEUE GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 any other government ttan the one which he here 
 portrays. Aheady the events which definitely ex- 
 cluded him from public life were looming in the 
 distance, and the consistency of his life, as well as 
 the freedom of his opinions were destined to remain 
 intact. 
 
 On the eighth of July, 1850, he wrote to M. Pisca- 
 tory, who, in spite of their occasional differences 
 of conduct and opinions, had long been his intimate 
 friend : — 
 
 ' It is always well for you to write to me, my 
 dear friend, and I always thank you for it. When- 
 ever we agree, I am delighted ; and whenever we 
 disagree, I should always like to know the reason. 
 In the present case, I should like you very much to 
 be in the right. I do not consider a Republic as in 
 itself the best form of government. I prefer and 
 approve more of a Constitutional Monarchy. I 
 know, however, that a Republic may be both great 
 and excellent, and as far as I am concerned, it would 
 suit me very well. Unfortunately, I also think that 
 this kind of Government demands more good sense 
 and morality than any other. Now, the present Re- 
 public is not the result of our good sense and moral- 
 ity, but of our want of good sense and morality. 
 Hence my views as to the present and the future. 
 
 'There are two men with whom I am as well 
 acquainted as if I had spent my life with them, — 
 Cromwell and Washington. You may be certain 
 that neither the one nor the other would have be- 
 lieved for a moment in the Republic we now have 
 
RETURK FROM EXILE. 275 
 
 ■ — the one would have overthrown it, the other 
 would have had nothing to do with it. If you can 
 keep it, and at the same time reform it, do so. 
 Meanwhile I am patient, and I persist in my opinion. 
 
 ' I entu-ely agree in all you say of the present 
 state of affairs. The President may tranquilly await 
 1852 ; he will be re-elected, because there is no one 
 else to elect. He will be, just as we said in 1830, 
 " the king of our choice." And once re-elected, it 
 is indeed possible that he may not remain as he is 
 now, that his position may be changed. I do not 
 look forward so far-; but I see the possible contin- 
 gency that you mention. We shall see what hap- 
 pens then. I do not think that even then, however 
 great the change of names, the realities will be 
 essentially different from what they are now. What 
 we now have may last but cannot alter. We are 
 under a tree which has no roots, and which does not 
 grow ; it grows neither above the ground nor under 
 the ground, but it stands and may stand for a long 
 time. 
 
 ' If they want you to be in the committee of 
 twenty-five during the prorogation I do not see why 
 you should refuse. You should neither seek nor 
 avoid it. You are not one of those men who fly 
 from difficult or perilous duties, and you are one of 
 those who always succeed in escaping from a diffi- 
 culty after having got into it. Do you remember 
 when you jumped over the Pont de la Concorde into 
 the river to save a man from drowning ! You did 
 not save your man, but you got out of the water 
 
276 MOKSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 very well. Tliis is what would happen to you 
 again.' 
 
 The new joy brought into M. Guizot's family by 
 the birth of two little grand-daughters, was disturbed 
 by the delicate health of one of them ; his elder 
 daughter stayed in Paris to nurse her sick child. 
 
 On the sixteenth of July, 1851, M. Guizot wrote 
 to her in an interval of hope : — 'I am delighted to 
 hear of this continued improvement, my dear child. 
 I quite hope that the Divine Goodness and human 
 care will save this poor little one. No human mys- 
 tery is greater, in my opinion, than the destiny of 
 those creatures who are scarcely born into the world 
 before they have to leave it, without knowing any- 
 thing of life, hardly conscious of their own exist- 
 ence. I humbly accept the designs of God with 
 regard to them, because the designs are His ; but 
 they are absolutely impenetrable to me. I trust 
 that your Elisa will not have this mysterious fate, 
 that she may really take hold of life — that she may 
 know and hear you, smile at you, speak to you, and 
 that she will afterwards have her share of human 
 joys and sorrows. I can follow her in this career, 
 but if to-morrow she were taken away from us, I 
 should lose her altogether, I should mourn for her 
 almost without having seen her, she would be like a 
 ray of light, promising a beautiful day, and suddenly 
 disappearing in darkness. I pray, I hope with you, 
 my dear child.' 
 
 God took back His gift. M. de Witt was as sad 
 
THE COUP d':^tat. 277 
 
 and as suffering as his wife, and they both set out 
 to pass the winter in Rome. Pohtics were in a very 
 anxious state, and the separation was, in consequence, 
 especially painful. M. Guizot wrote more frequently 
 than ever to his children to make up for the igno- 
 rance which absence entailed. He wrote on the 
 fifteenth of November, 1851 : — 
 
 ' Here we are, re-established in Paris, in the midst 
 of the turmoil, I do not take much pleasure in it, 
 and I shall lose a great deal of time without any 
 adequate result. But it cannot be helped. 
 
 ' Guillaume is again with us. I am much pleased 
 with him. He is interested in his new studies. On 
 the day after to-morrow I shall resume my philo- 
 sopliical conversations with him and Comelis. I 
 read, this morning, a dissertation of his on the con- 
 nexion between morality and beauty in literatui-e ; 
 it was full of excellent and original ideas, well 
 arranged and well expressed. He works hard. 
 
 ' I turn from Guillaume to politics. The situation 
 is very critical and the strain is great. There is 
 considerable animation in Paris, that is to say, in 
 the political world ; in the general public there is 
 more than tranquillity, there is apathy. To tell the 
 truth, no one is much frightened. On the day be- 
 fore yesterday, the believers in a crisis were, or 
 thought themselves, frightened; there was a report 
 of an intended " coup d'etat,^^ in the night; the doors 
 of the Assembly were closed, and the leaders ar- 
 rested. Thirty or forty people assembled at the 
 house of M. Baze, the Questew, and there they dis- 
 
278 MOITSIEUE GUIZOT IN PEIVATE LIFE. 
 
 cussed eagerly, during the first half of the night, the 
 possible means of defence. No attack came, and 
 every one went to bed. M. Berryer asked M. Dupin 
 if there were " any secret door by means of which 
 I could return to the Chamber and defend you if 
 you were attacked ? " " Upon my word," said M. 
 Dupin, "I am looking for a door through which I 
 could escape." 
 
 ' I will tell you how I arrange my life. I get up 
 at seven and work till ten ; then I dress. I receive 
 visitors from eleven to one, which means nearly two. 
 I return to my study. I go out at three, either to 
 the Academy or to see Madame de Lieven. I come 
 home at five. Philosophical conversation. In the 
 evening I go out as usual. I am determined to pre- 
 serve my hours of solitude, although it will be diffi- 
 cult to do so. I positively will finish the works that 
 I have begun. 
 
 ' M. de Montalembert's reception at the Academy 
 is fixed for the eighteenth of December. I shall 
 miss you greatly. I promise to think of you during 
 my speech. 
 
 ' Your descriptions please me much. Do not, 
 however, tire yourself too much by writing. The 
 ceremonies of the Sistine Chapel produced on you 
 exactly the impression I predicted. The Roman 
 Catholic religion began and developed in such mis- 
 erable and barbarous times and nations that the two 
 weapons — external pomp and authority — were in- 
 dispensable, and were perhaps the only efiicacious 
 ones. Only visible beauty and power could reach 
 
THE COUP d'etat. 279 
 
 the soul ; the imagination had to be either charmed 
 or frightened. Hence the two essential characteris- 
 tics of the Catholic Church — external splendour 
 and the complete separation of the clergy from the 
 people. When the human mind became much more 
 active and difficult to please, it was necessary to 
 admit moral and intellectual life, and each individ- 
 ual Christian to a larger share of privileges. This 
 is the explanation of the two principal characteris- 
 tics of the Reformation, predominance of internal 
 feeling over outward pomp in the services of the 
 Church, and the predominance of the laity over the 
 clergy in its discipline. The two systems corre- 
 sponded with the state of society and of men's minds 
 at the time. 
 
 ' Your grief, my dear child, will never leave you. 
 God will, I hope, give you better consolation than 
 worldly distractions, but the best and dearest con- 
 solation will never entirely heal the wound caused 
 by the blow which has fallen on you. I have several 
 times in my life been severely wounded, and in turn 
 marvellously cured. My joys and sorrows are, as 
 you know, all round me in my room, I cannot lift 
 my eyes without meeting the remembrance of all that 
 has been sweetest and saddest in my life : they are 
 so intimately blended in my mind that I no longer 
 know them apart, when I look at those dear faces I 
 feel at the same time all the happiness and all the 
 grief that they have caused me. Nothing that we 
 have felt deeply is ever effaced ; the storms which 
 agitate the heart calm down on the surface as they 
 
280 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 do in nature, but the treasures which have reached 
 its inmost depths remain there. Your dear little 
 Elisa's memory will live on in your heart, together 
 with the new treasures which will, I hope, be granted 
 to you by Providence. Whatever your life may be 
 in the future, she has taken her place in it for ever.' 
 
 The cowp cfetat of the second of December, and a 
 slight indisposition on M. de Montalembert's part, 
 postponed his reception by the Academic Fran^aise. 
 It took place on the fifth of February, 1852 ; on the 
 next day M. Guizot wrote to his daughter : ' Just a 
 few lines this morning, my dear child, for your 
 pleasure and mine. The reception at the Academy 
 was very fine ; an immense crowd ; more than 200 
 people went away because there was no room. The 
 excitement was general and sincere. My speech is 
 entirely and completely reported in the Debats. The 
 proof was sent at once to the censor, and some sup- 
 pressions and excisions were made. The higher 
 powers ordered the suppressions to be suppressed, 
 and the speech to appear as it was delivered. Sup- 
 pressions were also made in M. de Montalembert's 
 speech, and orders were given to allow it also to 
 stand — not altogether, however; two or three pas- 
 sages were still to be left out. This is the first time, 
 I think, that the censorship has been applied to the 
 Academical speeches since 1811. But the censorship 
 now-a-days is very moderate and liberal compared 
 with that in 1811. M. de Chateaubriand's speech 
 was suppressed entirely and altogether, neither de- 
 
THE COUP d'etat. 281 
 
 livered nor printed. Even in this we see progress. 
 You will recognise my optimism in this sentence. I 
 had a mind to send you a copy of my speech to read 
 before it was published, just as if you had been 
 present. I gave it up for fear of postal indiscretions. 
 
 ' Lord John Russell has severely but very justly 
 rebuked Lord Palmerston, who defended himself 
 very feebly, and with considerable embarrassment. 
 I am delighted. Justice, even if tardy, is only the 
 more conspicuous. I do not always expect even 
 tardy justice in this world ; we often have to wait 
 for it until we reach a better world than this. But 
 when it comes soon enough for mortal eyes to behold, 
 it is a satisfactory and refreshing spectacle. 
 
 ' Good-bye, kisses for you both. Time is going 
 on, however. We have reached the top of the hill 
 which separates us ; we are on the slope of the right 
 side.' 
 
 He wrote again on the twenty-fifth of February : — 
 
 ' I felt certain, my dear child, that you would like 
 my speech, especially the passage you mention. I, 
 too, have long admired and loved those words of our 
 Saviour,* not only for their great goodness, but for 
 their profound truth. A common fault of the Catholic 
 Church as well as of the Protestant is to refuse to 
 acknowledge this truth ; exclusively occupied with 
 the unity of the faith and of the ultimate end in 
 view, they forget that there may be many roads and 
 
 * ' In my Father's house are many mansions.' — St. John, 
 xiv. 2. — Tb. 
 
282 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 many mansions, and they become narrow and tyran- 
 nical. The CathoHc Church in its vast sphere, and 
 the Protestants in their little comer, by this means 
 distort and belie the Gospel which, while there is 
 absolute unity in its doctrine, is broad and liberal 
 in its charity. If I were twenty years younger I 
 would devote my life to setting this truth in a pow- 
 erful light; it is especially applicable and needful 
 in the present state of society and opinion, and 
 should be recognised and loudly proclaimed by all 
 Christians — Catholics or Protestants — if they wish 
 Christianity to recover its strong and salutary in- 
 fluence. But I am too old, I can still see and point 
 out the truth, but I can no longer undertake for her 
 sake those long and ardent conflicts which are her 
 condition and her glory here upon earth. 
 
 ' I will tell you in what respect M. de Montalem- 
 bert has wronged the revolution of 1789 and the 
 Constituent Assembly. All that he says of it is true, 
 all the reproaches he addresses to those times are 
 well founded ; but he has omitted to say three things 
 which are equally true and which he ought to have 
 taken into account. 
 
 ' First. Good and evil are so intimately mingled 
 in every human act and event that in the best and 
 most useful evil still abounds —. moral and material 
 evil — witness the' rehgious wars, persecutions, in- 
 iquities, and madnesses, in the midst of the propaga- 
 tion of Christianity. This is not a sufficient reason 
 for being silent as to the good which was mixed 
 with the evil, or for confounding both in the same 
 anathema. 
 
THE COUP d'etat. 283 
 
 ' Second. In spite of the false ideas and lax 
 morals of 1789 good intentions predominated; this 
 is an important and attenuating circumstance, and 
 ought never to be forgotten in judging or speaking 
 of this period. 
 
 'Third. The Revolution of 1789 has not been 
 so unproductive, or the Constituent Assembly so 
 impotent and sterile, as Montalembert asserts ; a great 
 deal of its work is still going on in the actual state 
 of our society, and in the goodness and justice which 
 still survive amidst its faults and foibles. If we were 
 suddenly transported back to the France of one 
 hundred and fifty years ago, we could not endure 
 the sight of its absurdities, oppressions, and iniquities. 
 The ills we now endure must not make us forget 
 those from which we have been delivered.' 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 1852-58. 
 
 LITEEAEY WORK PLEASURE IN HIS GRANDCHILDREN. 
 
 It became more and more easy for M. Guizot to 
 be perfectly impartial in his judgment of contem- 
 porary events. After the coup cfetat he definitely 
 gave up public life to devote himself to those philo- 
 sophical and historical studies in which he took an 
 equally eager delight both in the beginning and in 
 the end of his life. He still preserved his passionate 
 interest in the politics of his country. He was no 
 longer an actor ; his part henceforward was to be 
 only a spectator ; sometimes, however, a * consulting 
 counsel.' 
 
 He wrote soon afterwards to M. Piscatory : — 
 ' You say that this proud impartiality has shocked 
 some of our friends and allies. I expected this. I 
 am determined to allow myself the satisfaction of 
 keeping out of parties and coteries as well as out of 
 crowds. I ought, at least, to be permitted to regain 
 my liberty as a set-off" against my defeat. I rejoice 
 in having some friends like yourself who agree with 
 me.' 
 
LITERARY WORK. 285 
 
 On the eleventh of March, 1852, he wrote to his 
 elder daughter : — 
 
 ' I have just finished my second campaign of din- 
 ners: on the day before yesterday, at Admiral 
 Mackau's, where I met M. de Falloux ; yesterday, 
 accompanied by your sister and Cornelis, with 
 Madame de Champouis, to meet Marshal Vaillant, 
 the conqueror or liberator of Rome ; to-day at M. 
 de Hatzfeldt's. I have another invitation for Tues- 
 day from M. Mol^. Afterwards I shall rest. This 
 sort of life does not please me at all ; in the first 
 place in itself, for I had rather dine at home ; and 
 also because I cannot return these civilities, even by 
 asking people to come to me in the evening. I was 
 quite right not to resume my Tuesdays, economy 
 and politics equally forbid them. In order to pre- 
 serve, as I intend, entire freedom of speech, I must 
 not have too many people talking round me. On 
 the whole, I have led a very retired life this winter, 
 and I hope it will be still more retired at Val-Richer. 
 I cannot tell you how anxious I am to finish the 
 works I have begun. 
 
 ' My bad spirits yesterday were in consequence 
 of the Law of Public Education.* I cannot bear 
 to see anything spoiled which might be so good. 
 There are excellent reforms which might have been 
 
 * The decree of March ninth, 1852, entirely modified the or- 
 ganization and the discipline of the University. It prescribed a 
 new system under which the principal feature was to be the hifur- 
 cation, that is to say, dividing the students into students of science 
 and students of literature after the first few years of study. 
 
286 MONSIEUK GUIZOT IN PRITATE LIFE. 
 
 made, both in the University and in the Educa- 
 tional Laws. The President might have passed 
 them openly and without opposition ; they would 
 have been useful to himself and his government, 
 and at the same time good for the present state of 
 the public mind and education in France. He has 
 entirely missed his aim and misunderstood his own 
 interests as well as those of the country. He has 
 destroyed all the good there was in his uncle's uni- 
 versity, and he has not supplied its place, as he 
 might have done, with anything good of his own. 
 He has degraded and broken an instrument which 
 he might have made excellent ; and he has done this 
 rather from carelessness than from any bad inten- 
 tion. It is sad. I am so unfortunate as to have 
 very decided and well-considered opinions on the 
 subject. I thought about it, and was engaged in it 
 for four years. I shall certainly, if I live, allow 
 myself the satisfaction of leaving a record, not only 
 of what I did, but of what I thought and proposed 
 to do during the four years that I was Minister of 
 Public Education. It is one of the passages in my 
 life to which I attach the most importance, and I 
 wish to leave a fall and accurate account of it. 
 
 ' Our heart is strangely constituted. It was in 
 this house that I lost your mother and brother, who 
 — with you — were my greatest sources of happi- 
 ness, and I am as attached to this place as if I had 
 had nothing but happiness in it. 
 
 ' I am under the fire of the Academies. I spend 
 two mornings a-week at the Acad^mie rran9aise in 
 
LITERARY WORK. 287 
 
 looking over examination papers. Did I, or did 
 Gruillaume, tell you that we were going to propose 
 as subjects for prizes, essays on the works and 
 genius of the great writers of antiquity — Thucyd- 
 ides, Demosthenes, Livy, Tacitus, &c. Guillaume 
 is delighted, and he is determined to compete in 
 honour of one of his literary heroes. I am very 
 glad for his sake ; it will be an excellent exercise 
 and time well employed, and perhaps a beginning 
 of success in life.' 
 
 He wrote on the twelfth of April, 1852, to his 
 son, who had gone to pay a visit to his daughter in 
 Rome, and who was beginning his essay on Me- 
 nander : — 
 
 ' My dear child, I am glad that you are so de- 
 lighted with all you see. It is a wholesome pleas- 
 ure. I do not care for frivolous amusements ; but 
 pleastires which are valuable, which develope our 
 mental faculties instead of flattering our weaknesses, 
 are good and useful. You are on the thi-eshold of 
 life, and you will have your trials. I trust that 
 happiness will one day be yours, the right sort of 
 happiness, such as you desire for yourself You 
 must wait patiently for it,' and rather endeavour to 
 deserve it than go in search of it. Our destiny con- 
 sists of two parts, the one is hidden from us and 
 God settles it according to His will ; the other de- 
 pends upon ourselves, and this is the only one 
 which we ought to trouble ourselves about. As to 
 the former, all we can do is to have faith — do what 
 we may, we can neither foresee it nor alter it. You 
 
288 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 are right to be ambitious. Ambition is one of the 
 best of 3^outhful passions. It is a wish for distinc- 
 tion unalloyed by any of the bad feelings which are 
 often mixed with it in later life. One is sometimes 
 too ambitious at forty, but never at twenty. You 
 must tell me what are the objects of your ambition. 
 
 ' I am not astonished at the impression made on 
 you by the amount of light in the South. It makes 
 the great difference in the climate. I have retained 
 such a lively impression of this from my infancy, 
 that even now, after nearly fifty years spent in the 
 north, whenever I shut my eyes I see the sky and 
 the sunshine of the south. The light which formerly 
 used to rejoice my eyes has remained treasured up 
 in my mind. 
 
 'We have settled the subjects for prizes at the 
 Academy. On Thursday we shall certainly adopt 
 M. de Montalembert's second proposal, "An essay 
 on English Political Orators." It is too large and 
 rather too modern. Politics will occupy too much 
 space — but never mind — these five literary com- 
 positions on great men and great times suddenly 
 breaking the silence of our own degenerate day will 
 have a good result. Do not trust too much to the 
 syllabus for direction in composing your essay on 
 Menander, it is clever but vague ; it opens views 
 without tracing paths. We will talk of this. You 
 have quite enough materials at present for yoxir 
 work. I suppose the prize will be given in 1854. 
 When you return you must get MeinecJce and carry 
 it to Val-Richer. I hope that we shall both be able 
 
LITERARY WORK. 289 
 
 to go there on the fifteenth of June. We are wait- 
 ing impatiently for warm weather, it is fine but still 
 cold. My gardener writes : "The frost continues; 
 not a drop of rain has fallen for six weeks ; the 
 ground is as dry as wood and very contrary'' ' ' 
 (acariatre). 
 
 A life of complete independence, and, although in 
 retirement, actively and usefully employed, with his 
 children all round him, was the one chosen by M 
 Guizot, and never relinquished by him. He found a 
 tender satisfaction in the happiness of those around 
 him. 
 
 ' My dear Cornells,' he wrote on the twenty-first 
 of June, 1852, to one of his sons-in-law, 'it is to 
 you that I write on your wife's birthday. I feel that 
 it is a very happy day for us all three. I used to be 
 very anxious, more anxious than I ever told to any- 
 body, about my daughters' future ; I was very fas- 
 tidious for them and consequently very uneasy. You 
 and your brother have realised all my dreams and 
 surpassed my expectations. What more can I say ? 
 As regards myself, if I have ever been of any use in 
 this world, I am rewarded for it by the happiness of 
 my daughters ; and it is through you two that it has 
 come to me. May God keep you just as you are, 
 and in the same worldly position. I do not consider 
 it to be my duty to wish for fewer and less exalted 
 things as I grow older, than I did in my youth ; my 
 inclinations do not point that way. I am just as ex- 
 acting and ambitious — perhaps more so than I used 
 to be, but in truth your domestic happiness is so 
 
290 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 perfect, that I ask for nothing better in that respect. 
 As to your external and public life I ask for some- 
 thing more and something diflferent, and whatever 
 happens I hope that this will come. You are made 
 for public life ; in it you will do good to others and 
 honour to' yourself Wherever you may be, and 
 whatever you do, continue, my dear children, to be 
 closely united, it will be through life, and for you 
 all, a source of great happiness and great strength. 
 A sincere and intimate union between five or six 
 people is a much more rare and more powerful engine 
 than people think ; and thus I conclude my homily of 
 the twenty-second of June, and I trust that this 
 prayer, at any rate, will be granted.' 
 
 Twenty years later M. Guizot repeated the same 
 pious, tender, and paternal prayer in his will : — 
 
 ' God has given me great blessings, great trials, 
 and again great blessings. He bestowed upon me 
 the matchless favour of living in the very closest 
 intimacy with minds and hearts of the highest dis- 
 tinction. My dearest relations satisfied my most 
 ambitious desires. And these treasures were twice 
 withdrawn in my domestic life. God gave and took 
 away the greatest happiness that this world can 
 aiford. 
 
 ' He took away from me an excellent and charming 
 son who had just attained manhood. He has not 
 allowed many cherished friendships to accompany 
 me to the grave. 
 
 ' He permitted the fall of the political edifice to 
 which I devoted the labour of my life and attached 
 
LITEEAEY WORK. 291 
 
 the glory of my name. After so many and such 
 grievous losses God still left me a large share of 
 happiness. My children have been the charm of 
 my old age. I thank them for their affection for 
 me and for their union among themselves. I ear- 
 nestly pray them to remain always as united when 
 I am gone as they have been while gathered round 
 me. They will find, in family union, sources of 
 happiness and strength which will support them be- 
 yond their expectations in the trials of life.' 
 
 Work was M. Guizot's chief consolation, and at 
 Val-Richer he was able to give himself up to it en- 
 tirely. He was therefore always anxious to return 
 thither. 
 
 ' We shall start on Thursday evening, the twenty- 
 sixth, unless there should be unforeseen obstacles,' he 
 wrote on the sixteenth of May, 1853, to his younger 
 daughter ; ' and hope to reach you on Friday morn- 
 ing, the twenty-seventh. I shall thus be able to be 
 present again on Thursday, the twenty-sixth, at the 
 sitting of the Academy. I wish to show my good- 
 will. This will be my only intrigue , in favour of 
 Menander* Guillaume is in almost as great a hurry 
 as I am to be at Val-Richer, for the benefit of your 
 society, and for that of his work, which he wants to 
 get on with. I, too, have a great deal to do. 
 
 * M. Guizot's son, who had scarcely attained the age of twenty, 
 competed for the prize offered by the Academy for the best essay 
 on the life and works of Menander. The prize was divided. M. 
 Guillaume Guizot was crowned ex cequo with M. B^noit, Professor 
 at Nancy. 
 
292 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 ' A certain Count Sprengponter, who was Russian 
 Ambassador at Napoleon's court in early days, passed 
 through Gotha on his way back to St. Petersbui'g. 
 A Saxon friend of his asked him what Napoleon 
 really was, " He is a man whose projects would take 
 a hundred years to carry into effect ; and as he has 
 only twenty -five to live, he cuts each year into four." 
 I am not Napoleon, but I should like to cut my 
 years into four. 
 
 ' On Saturday, I dined at Rothschild's. There 
 were not many retired politicians, — only Salvandy 
 and Montebello. Some very fine people, however, 
 — the Prince and Princess de Beauvau, Madame 
 Potocka, the Duke and Duchess Galliera, Baron and 
 Baroness Seebach. 
 
 ' The talk was all of turning hats and tables. I 
 said that I had seen nothing of it, and that in my ex- 
 perience only people turned. The Princess declared 
 that after dinner she would show me something, and 
 she asked for my hat. 
 
 ' " It will never turn," I said. 
 
 '"And, why!" 
 
 ' " Because it has spent its life on my head ! " 
 
 ' They took my hat. Madame de Beauvau put 
 her hands on it, first with her sister, and next with 
 one of the young Rothschilds, and then with myself, 
 for more than half-an-hour. It remained perfectly 
 motionless. I went away and left them engaged 
 with a table.' 
 
 Madame Cornehs de Witt, M. Guizot's younger 
 daughter, was weak and out of health after the birth 
 
PLEASURE IK HIS GRANDCHILDREN. 293 
 
 of her second child, and settled herself at Hyeres 
 for the winter. 
 
 M. Gruizot took great interest in his grandchildren, 
 even when they were at a distance, and almost from 
 the time of their birth. He wrote, on the twenty- 
 fifth of November, 1853: — 
 
 ' I suppose, as you have said nothing about them, 
 that Cornelis II. does not continue to fly into such 
 passions. You are right in checking them early, but 
 do not worry yourself, or restrain his independence 
 too much : every tree should follow its bent. I am 
 not, however, afraid of your being too strict. And 
 tell me some more about Marie. I often think of her. 
 Your absence from home will do her no harm : I am 
 sure that the sunshine will be almost as good for her 
 as for her mother. She coiild have done without it, 
 but she will flourish all the more in it. Little Mar- 
 garet is developing rapidly and healthily in every 
 respect, she seems to understand very quickly and 
 without any trouble. I cannot say how it delights 
 me to see her mother's happiness in holding a strong, 
 living child in her arms. There is always the lurk- 
 ing memory of her past grief which doubles her joy 
 in the present. 
 
 ' Nothing is talked of but the Fusion ; but it is 
 talked of very cautiously, for the newspapers do not 
 venture to pronounce its name. All that has appeared 
 on the subject is rather a bitter little article in the 
 Correspondance Havas. But it is talked of a great 
 deal and everywhere ; and indifferent people, who 
 are those that have chiefly to be taken into account, 
 
294 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 approve, and say, " It maybe of use some day, it is 
 something to look forward to." 
 
 ' There is no news from the East. Negotiations 
 are renewed, and an armed intervention is spoken of. 
 There continues to be a great contradiction between 
 the formal language of the Emperor to foreign diplo- 
 matists and the utterances of the Imperial news- 
 papers. The one very pacific and not at all Turkish, 
 the other very Turkish and almost warlike.' 
 
 Again, on the ninth of January, 1854: — 
 
 ' Everybody expected war, last night, except the 
 Austrian Ambassador, who still exhibits great con- 
 fidence and is sure that all will be settled peacefully, 
 I doubt. Questions of influence and dignity are, 
 when once they ai-e stirred, more difficult to arrange 
 than any others. 
 
 ' The public here is beginning to be seriously un- 
 easy, and to ask what France has to do with this 
 struggle between Russia and England for influence in 
 the East, and why she should help to destroy one of the 
 secondary fleets in order to establish the supremacy 
 of the English fleet in the Black Sea, as well as every- 
 where else 1 The public may have as many doubts, 
 and ask as many questions, as it pleases, the Grovern- 
 ment will keep up the alliance with England, there 
 will be only a little coldness and embarrassment be- 
 tween the two countries. 
 
 ' The Admirals declare that we must not think of 
 entering the Black Sea at present : it is covered with 
 fragments of ships, it is the season for fogs and ship- 
 wrecks, the wind is from the north-east, there, as 
 elsewhere. We must wait. 
 
PLEASURE m HIS GRANDCHILDREN. 295 
 
 ' To-morrow, I am going to read to the Academy 
 a paper on Cromwell wliich tliey asked me for. I 
 shall finish this week my eighth and last volume, 
 which would have been already finished had I not 
 been unwell. The historical documents are ready 
 and almost all printed. The work will appear 
 simultaneously in Paris and in London, between 
 the first and the fifteenth of February. I shall leave 
 it with regret. I have come to the illness and death 
 of Cromwell, and I linger over it with an almost 
 affectionate interest. There is something that attracts 
 and affects me powerfully in the sight of a great man, 
 not naturally at all inclined to despondency, but 
 who in his last moments passed away with the im- 
 pression that he had not done one of the things which 
 he had really wished to accomplish, although, ex- 
 ternally and in the eyes of the world, he had been 
 always successful.' 
 
 ' Jan. 13. 
 ' Politics do not look well. We hear from Berlin : 
 " The last news from St. Petersburg give very little 
 hope for the maintenance of peace. The Emperor 
 Nicholas persists in refusing any intervention. The 
 Vienna Conference has quite broken up, and, be- 
 sides, the Emperor Nicholas will not be guilty of the 
 inconsistency of disavowing the victory gained by 
 his squadron at Sinope. He will be ready to begin 
 the campaign in March. One may be certain that 
 he will not take the initiative against the two naval 
 powers, and that he will go forward without paying 
 
296 MONSIEUR GmZOT IN PEIVATE LIFE. 
 
 any attention to them so long as he does not believe 
 that the Cabinets of Vienna and Berlin are against 
 him." These are the very words. M. de Reiset, 
 the bearer of the Anglo-French note relating to the 
 Black Sea, left Paris on the twenty-ninth of Decem- 
 ber, and did not reach Berlin until the sixth of 
 January, because the lines were blocked, and the 
 engine could not make any progress in the snow. 
 He cannot have reached St. Petersburg before yes- 
 terday at the earliest. We shall not receive the 
 Emperor's answer until the twenty-fifth or thirtieth. 
 The question will then make a great stride, probably 
 in the direction of war. Diplomacy has now given 
 up talking about the matter, and is quite right, for 
 no honour has been gained by talking. 
 
 ' Yesterday, I had a great sorrow. Poor Armand 
 Bertin died at seven in the morning, of angina, from 
 which he had been suffering since Monday — the 
 anniversary of his wife's death. It is, I repeat, a 
 great sorrow and a great loss for me. He was an 
 excellent man, loyal, clever, sensible, intelligent, 
 and a most faithful friend. And poor Hebert ! his 
 wife died on the day before yesterday of typhoid 
 and brain-fever. He wrote to me two hours after- 
 wards : " She has gone to heaven to join her daugh- 
 ter, whose image has been present to her mind every 
 instant of the last seven years." Death continues in 
 vain to deal his blows around us, in spite of all that 
 Bossuet says, we always forget how near he is. 
 May God preserve you — all four of you — my 
 dear children.' 
 
PLEASURE m HIS GRAJSTDCHILDEEN. 297 
 
 There was a strong muster of the family at Hydros ; 
 Mademoiselle de Witt had just married M. GaiUard, 
 who, at that time, held the post of payeur du tresor 
 (public paymaster) at Moulins, and she and her 
 husband set out immediately afterwards for the 
 south. M. Guizot wrote to her on the third of 
 March, 1854: — 
 
 ' My deae Betsy, — I write to you to-day, for the 
 whole cu'cle at Hyeres. You have been my third 
 daughter for the last four years, and I do not' see 
 why this relationship should cease because you 
 have married with my full approbation. Your let- 
 ters tell me what I already knew - — that you are 
 very happy. • Pray stay as you are. There is a 
 certain resting-place in life to which one must cling 
 whatever happens. The future will not always be 
 as bright as the present ; you will have your trials 
 and sorrows like the rest of the world. Hold on 
 firmly, cling more and more closely to your pillar 
 of support. I am delighted that you have found it, 
 and although I have known M. Gaillard only for a 
 very short time, I am confident that, with the help 
 of his arm, you will traverse happily the crooked as 
 well as the straight paths of life.' 
 
 M. Guizot's life was spent more and more in the 
 bosom of his family ; his work kept him at home, 
 and neither the Academy nor his friends called him 
 away. If he travelled, it was only for a short time, 
 and the day of his return was settled beforehand. 
 Those he left behind were admitted to a share in 
 all he saw. 
 
298 MONSIEUE GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 In August, 1855, lie went to England for the 
 anniversary of Louis Philippe's death. On his 
 return he wrote from Paris : — 
 
 ' I left London yesterday morning at a quarter to 
 eight, and reached Paris yesterday evening at five 
 minutes to eight. Until we can be shot, like a tele- 
 graphic despatch, this is pretty good travelluag as a 
 parcel. I came back with Broglie. I am not at all 
 tired, and I am very glad that I went ; but I am 
 very glad that my trip is over, and I shall be still 
 better pleased when it is quite over. I am going 
 this morning to arrange my visit to Maintenon. I 
 see that the Due de Noailles will have company — 
 Lord and Lady Holland, Dumon, Cousin — never- 
 theless, I intend to be with you on Thursday. I 
 will tell you to-morrow at what hour you must 
 send to meet me at Lisieux. Marie and Marguerite 
 are quite right in wondering why I am not at home. 
 
 ' My last morning in England was spent at the 
 Crystal Palace. It is an historical chaos in plaster 
 under a glass cage. It looks grand from outside — 
 perhaps still more strange than grand — but still it 
 is grand. Within, a constant transition from the 
 gigantic to the paltry, from the beautiful to the 
 ridiculous. Colossal sphinxes, as fresh as new 
 earthenware, and packed as close as anchovies. 
 Egyptian art evidently needs ruins and the desert. 
 Hundreds of busts, as many of unknown as of 
 known personages, and coupled together most ab- 
 surdly ; Grisi by the side of Lord Chancellor Mans- 
 field ; Peel to match Hercules. Farther on, dolls to 
 
PLEASURE IN HIS GRANDCHILDREN. 299 
 
 represent savages, of natural size and colour — 
 black, red, yellow — eating, scalping, fighting ; 
 groups of lions and tigers in aviaries of stuffed 
 birds. Noah's ark without the deluge. But, here 
 and there, magnificent, charming things. A com- 
 plete reproduction, in the same dimensions, of the 
 Alhambra — the Court of Lions and another court. 
 It is lovely. Two Pompeian houses, very correct 
 and very curious as a study of Roman habits. And, 
 above all, the gardens in front of the Palace, im- 
 mense, superb — a happy combination of French 
 garden, Italian decoration, and English turf At 
 the bottom of these gardens, round and in a great 
 unfinished lake, the antediluvian animals, Masto- 
 dons, Megalotheriums, Ichthyosaurians, &c., &c., put 
 together, and reproduced in plaster in their natural 
 size, more huge and liideous than one imagines. 
 There is a frog between twelve and fifteen long, 
 and six or seven feet high. I will allow Marie to 
 be frightened if she meets him at the bottom of our 
 garden (I should say park). Whatever we may 
 say against the creation of our times, it is more 
 beautiful than this was. On the whole, Sydenham 
 Palace is a great curiosity, well worth seeing, and 
 would formerly have been justly counted among 
 the wonders of the world. Moreover, a wonder 
 that was constructed in two years.' 
 
 In future, during several months of the year, M. 
 Guizot wrote principally to his elder daughter, for 
 she was separated from him when he was in Paris in 
 the winter. M. Conrad de Witt was fond of agricult- 
 
300 MOKSIEUK GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 ure, and he managed the farm at Val-Eicher. For 
 fifteen years he and his family passed winter as well 
 as summer in this favourite abode — the real centre 
 of the family, who were all reunited in the spring. 
 The separation was, however, hard to bear. 
 
 ' My child,' M. Guizot wrote, on the seventh of 
 April, 1856, ' Pauline goes on improving. There is, 
 I assure you, no cause for uneasiness : do not add 
 anxiety to the grief of absence. 
 
 ' Adolphe Monod's * trial is over. Hedied yester- 
 day — I do not know at what o'clock — with much 
 suffering from weakness, which had gone on increas- 
 ing for the last few days. " He rests from his labours, 
 and his works follow him." To no one can these 
 beautiful words be more appropriate. For a long 
 time I have thought of him as of one that was dead, 
 with the deepest respect, and without any bitterness 
 in my grief. According to our human judgment, 
 sometimes too confident, and at others too anxious, 
 when we think of the future, he seemed still to be 
 very much wanted on earth. God has judged other- 
 wise. No doubt he had done so much in his mission 
 that the effects of his work may carry it on. And 
 for himself, he was ready to die, for he had drawn 
 from life all that was needed for eternity. You will 
 grieve, my children, but with faith. As for me, few 
 men have inspired me with so much esteem and 
 sympathy.' 
 
 * M. Adolphe Monod, whom Laeordaire called the first of 
 Christian orators, had heen confined to his bed for seven months, 
 suffering frightful and mortal tortures. 
 
PLEASURE IN HIS GRAND CHILDREN. 301 
 
 Again in December : — 
 
 ' My dear child, I shall certainly be very glad to 
 see my expected visitors to-morrow ; but my pleasure 
 is mucb balanced by tlie idea of your sorrow at their 
 departure. I am not afraid of solitude for you — 
 you can bear it ; your life and your mind are full ; 
 but when the mind is full it overflows, and needs 
 another mind into which it can pour its thoughts. 
 When people are together they can be silent : at a 
 distance they want to talk. However, I shall write 
 often. You will come to us for a short time, and I 
 shall spend a little while with you. And the spring 
 will return. 
 
 ' I am anxious not to be forgotten by Marguerite 
 and Jeanne before I see them again. My little Jeanne 
 seems to me almost the third edition of one coun- 
 tenance and one mind. Pray take care of her.' 
 
 The house was full of children. In April, 1856, 
 M. Guizot wrote to his second daughter, while she 
 was travelling in Brittany : — 
 
 ^Ab Jove principium: Jupiter here stands for the 
 children. I have just left them. They went to sleep 
 last night at half-past eight and did not awake till 
 seven o'clock this morning. I told Baby he had 
 grown fatter. " It is because I have eaten two basins 
 of soup this morning." At dessert we have' a great 
 deal of trouble to make Robert sit on his Aunt 
 Adelaide's lap; he goes on repeating "grandpapa." 
 But he resigns himself without murmuring. I never 
 saw a better-tempered child. Marie was enchanted 
 with your long letter and the flowers ; but I cannot 
 
302 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PEITATE LIFE. 
 
 hide from you tliat Comelis was not so satisfied. 
 When I told him, " Marie has a letter from mamma," 
 his only answer was, " I haven't." Henriette's little 
 girls are well — Jeanne merrier than ever. They 
 are just starting for a drive in a donkey-carriage, I 
 think' 
 
 '■ January first, 1857' (to his elder daughter). 'I 
 cannot spend New Year's Day entirely without you, 
 so I write, though it is a poor compensation. Every 
 one in the house is well. The children have not yet 
 come to look for their presents. Comelis is very un- 
 comfortable because he has been told that he is to 
 have a box full of wisdom ; he wants something 
 different. Yesterday evening he tumbled down in the 
 drawing-room, quarrelling with Marie ; he hit his head 
 against the nails in the arm-chair, and made two 
 little wounds, that bled. It was nothing at all ; but 
 Marie was in despair when she saw the blood. They 
 have both forgotten it this morning. Robert had a 
 bad cold last night ; but he slept well, and is better 
 this morning. So now you know everything just as 
 if you were here. I should like to know everything, 
 every minute, about Marguerite and Jeanne, now that 
 I am not with you.' 
 
 All M. Guizot's children came round him a few 
 days later, for a heavy sorrow had fallen upon him. 
 
 Princess Lieven, who had long been suffering from 
 illness and weakness, expired in the night of the 
 twenty-sixth and twenty-seventh of January. 
 
 M. Guizot met her for the first time twenty 
 years earlier at the Duchesse de Broglie's. At that 
 
PLEASURE IN HIS GRANDCHILDKEN. 303 
 
 time she had just left Russia, her heart sore for the 
 loss of two charming sons, who had fallen victims 
 to the measles, partly owing to the severe climate of 
 the country. M. Gruizot had also just lost his son, 
 and the similarity of their grief was the first link in 
 the chain of their long friendship. He wrote to his 
 elder daughter : — 
 
 'She died last night — at midnight. An hour 
 earlier she sent me away, as well as her son and 
 every one else — she said she wanted to go to sleep. 
 I left word that I was to be fetched. In an hour 
 they came for me. She expired without pain, per- 
 fectly calm, and in the full possession of her mental 
 faculties. Her mind was as large as her intellect was 
 attractive, her good qualities were all her own, her 
 faults came from her education and surroundings. 
 She said yesterday to Olliffe : — "It would be a pity 
 if I were not to die now, I feel well prepared for it." 
 The affection and son-ow of her son Paul gratified 
 her extremely. I am sorry that her son Alexander 
 could not arrive in time, she would have been pleased 
 to see him. He was always very kind and affection- 
 ate to her. He will probably arrive on the day 
 after to-morrow. Count Constantino Benkendorff 
 and his wife came on the day before yesterday. She 
 thanked them with gentleness, but without mani- 
 festing any strong feeling. 
 
 ' Half-past three. I have just been making a pain- 
 ful effort. I have been to the Committee of the 
 Academy to hear the speeches read. I read my own. 
 I am to preside at the sitting of the fifth of Febru- 
 
304 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 ary. I will neglect no public duty, but with this 
 exception I shall shut myself up. Good-bye, my 
 child, here is a kiss for you. I have a great deal 
 more to say; but to-day I have neither time nor 
 spirits.' 
 
 At this time M. Guizot began to write his Memoirs 
 — a work of the highest importance for himself, and 
 equally essential for the true history of his time. 
 As the Due de Broglie said, ' History will have to 
 take note of it ; ' and this was M. Guizot's motive and 
 wish, and the great end he had in view. He prepared 
 the materials at Val-Richer, surrounded by books and 
 papers, without losing his interest in country occu- 
 pations and the farming experiments of his cliildren. 
 
 ' I shall not return until Friday instead of Thurs- 
 day,' he wrote on the twenty-third of February, 1857, 
 to his second daughter, ' I want to give a full week 
 to Henriette and to myself. She is in a great hurry to 
 see you all again. They will come to Paris for a 
 week on the fourteenth or sixteenth of March. Your 
 aunt Adelaide seems in just as great a hurry. The 
 weather, since yesterday, has been finer than ever, so 
 soft and clear, just like fine May weather. We go 
 out after breakfast. Yesterday we went over the 
 Upper field, the colza is looking very well. The 
 drainage of the whole of the large meadow will soon 
 be finished. "We shall begin making pipes again, 
 this week or next Monday at the latest.' 
 
 Three months later. May twenty-seventh, he 
 writes : — 
 
PLEASUEE IN HIS GEANDCHILDEEN". 305 
 
 'The sun really has come back to us; it never 
 shone brighter than it did this morning. All the 
 outdoor work is going on well this evening. We 
 sowed the camelina yesterday ; the beetroot and the 
 carrots are coming up and the colza is ripening. The 
 corn is growing and the hay is getting thick. They 
 cut the grass in the park yesterday for the cows, who 
 enjoyed it immensely. The cow-house was jubilant. 
 When the big bull had eaten his portion he thumped 
 his manger with his horns, asking for more. The 
 dairy will be finished to-day ; Ecker is painting the 
 hen-house, and Guesnet completing the wall. Very 
 few of the last batch of drain-pipes were broken. 
 The dahlias are planted out in the large bed. The 
 stuffed badger has arrived, and is placed in the glass 
 case, where the birds have made room for him. 
 Bocage promised me yesterday a fine fox and a 
 hedge-hog. By the time you arrive the new coach- 
 house will be ready, — at least, the carpenter has 
 promised it. This is all I have to tell you as regards 
 things. As to people, we are all quite well. You 
 may feel quite sure that when you all are happy and 
 all round me, I always find life worth living. It is a 
 matter of perpetual surprise to me — a surprise which 
 every fresh experience renews — that such opposite 
 feelings can dwell together in our hearts, such sad- 
 ness with such joy, such aching voids with such 
 fulness of life ; and, above all, I wonder at our 
 unconquerable clinging to the future, when each 
 succeeding day makes our lives belong more and 
 more to the past. So God has made us, and the 
 
 20 
 
306 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PEIVATE LIFE. 
 
 infinite contradictions in our nature are proofs that 
 our destiny is not accomplished in this life.' 
 
 So life passed on, filled with assiduous work, 
 which, however, never absorbed M. Guizot so much 
 as to prevent his occupying himself with the busi- 
 ness or the pleasures of those he loved. When he 
 had been writing for a long time, and had expressed 
 his thoughts to his satisfaction, he left his books and 
 his desk for the room of one of his daughters. ' I 
 have come for a little talk,' he used to say, and, 
 either walking slowly in the garden, examining the 
 flowers, trees, and fruit ; or by the fireside, stirring 
 the logs on the hearth, he would go on talking for 
 an hour, sometimes of the book he was writing, 
 sometimes of the people or events connected with it, 
 especially of past historical and personal interests, 
 but always affectionately sympathising in the present 
 of those he loved, and entering into the smallest 
 details in their lives. The little grandchildren had 
 never learned to be afraid of their grandfather, their 
 perfect respect never interfered with their gaiety in 
 his presence. He was not, like his friend Lord Aber- 
 deen, obliged to go to his daughters' rooms in order 
 to enjoy the children's merry noise ; the children 
 rushed into his room early in the morning, one after 
 the other, and were allowed to share his early break- 
 fast. When absent, he frequently wrote to them, 
 when present he encouraged them to talk to him. 
 
 * This is my conversation with the children,' he 
 wrote one day in the year 1860; 'the four eldest 
 were breakfasting with me. Cornells. — " Robert says 
 
PLEASURE m HIS aRANDCHILDREN". 307 
 
 he loves Jeanne best ; that's not trae. I am sure we 
 all love her as nmch as he does." Robert. — "No. 
 I am the one that loves Jeanne best." Cornelis. — 
 ' ' No." Robert. — ' ' Yes." Jeanne. — * ' You must not 
 love me better than Marguerite ; that's not fair." I 
 told Cornelis he was right, I kissed Jeanne, and cut 
 the. conversation short. Yesterday, too, Cunin- 
 Gridaine came into the drawing-room, and cried out 
 on seeing Jeanne, " Dear ! how like that little girl is 
 to her mother ! " She is charmed with her trip, and 
 she will be charmed to return home to Val-Richer.' 
 
 As they grew older it was their grandfather whom 
 the children chose as the confidant of all their little 
 secrets and of the bright hopes which crowd the im- 
 agination of the young when they are thoughtfully 
 disposed. He used to listen to their confidences with 
 far-seeing tenderness, and sometimes even to solicit 
 them : his words, his looks, his counsels sank deep 
 in their young hearts, and bore fruit long afterwards. 
 
 It was in his home, in the bosom of his family, 
 that M. Guizot henceforth found happiness and rest. 
 
CHAPTEE XX. 
 
 1858-60. 
 
 VISIT TO ENGLAND DEMOLITION OF HIS HOUSE. 
 
 In 1858 M. Guizot yielded to the entreaties of his 
 English friends who wished to see him once more 
 among them, and accordingly spent a few days in 
 Norfolk at Ketteringham, the seat of his old friend,* 
 Sir John Boileau, a descendant of a family of French 
 Protestant refugees, who was distantly connected 
 with M. Guizot. After the twenty-fourth of Febru- 
 ary, 1848, the two families had become very intimate. 
 
 M. Guizot's travelling companion was his son. 
 He gave a few days to London on the way. 
 
 ' What were you doing at one o'clock this mom- 
 
 * Mr. Senior was of the party who met M. Guizot. In a letter 
 to M. de Tocqueville he says, ' Guizot is in excellent spirits, and 
 what is rare in an ex-Premier, dwells more on the present and the 
 future than the past.' M. de Tocqueville replied, ' I have been 
 much interested by your visit to Sir John Boileau. You saw there 
 M. Guizot in one of his best lights. The energy with which he 
 stands up under the pressure of age and of ill-fortune, and is not 
 only resigned in his new situation, but as vigorous, as animated, 
 and as cheerful as ever, shows a character admirably tempered, 
 and a dignity which nothing will impair.' — Tr. 
 
VISIT TO ENGLAKD. 309 
 
 ing 1 ' lie wrote on the sixteenth of July to his elder 
 daughter. ' I have no doubt that you were quietly 
 asleep. I and Guillaume were in Bruton Street, 
 walking home after a violent storm which broke out 
 ten minutes before one, and was still grumbling. 
 We had just left Lady Granville's, whither we went 
 at eleven o'clock after dining with Panizzi. I could 
 lead this life, and perhaps it would amuse me, for a 
 week, but not longer. And I am all the more con- 
 vinced of this because I greatly enjoy the society to 
 which I have returned; ideas, sentiments, people, 
 occupations, interests, all suit me, but there is neither 
 quiet nor intimacy. I must have both. I have never 
 much liked physical exertion, but it used to be in- 
 different to me ; now it bores and worries even 
 more than it fatigues me ; I have no longer time or 
 strength enough to squander them in a hurry* 
 
 ' There were a great many people the day before 
 yesterday at Reeve's, a very agreeable dinner. We 
 had a great deal of conversation and talked as peo- 
 ple do who enjoy each other's society. Yesterday, 
 at Panizzi's, the British Museum, and Liberal High 
 Church party. We greatly admire and are charmed 
 with the Reading-room of the British Museum. It 
 is a vast building, beautiful and practical. The 
 general effect is very fine, and the smallest details 
 are perfectly adapted to their objects — art, science, 
 and comfort combined. Guillaume was quite excited. 
 
 ' I saw Lord Aberdeen the day before yesterday ; 
 
 * Sic in orig. — Te. 
 
310 MONSIEUR GITIZOT IN PEITATE LIFE. 
 
 I shall see him again this morning. We conversed 
 for an hour. His mind and heart are the same as 
 always, but his body feeble, nervous, and shaken. 
 He walks with difficulty, and speaks slowly, and is 
 calm and sad. He said to me, " You will not find 
 a better friend here than I am ; the only use I can 
 now be of to you is to be your friend." 
 
 ' I do not think he would go to Scotland now if 
 it were not to receive me. Sir Henry Holland, to 
 whom I mentioned my scruples, says that it will be 
 good for him, and that my visit will do him as much 
 good as it will give him pleasure. While talking to 
 him I felt pain and pleasure painfully mingled, but 
 nothing but pleasure in hearing him spoken of. He 
 is the object of general respect. Queen and Ministers, 
 friends and adversaries, all honour him and seek his 
 advice. It distresses me beforehand to think of the 
 day when I shall have to leave him.' 
 
 ' My dear child, I am at Edinburgh,' M. Guizot 
 wrote on the third of August to his elder daughter ; 
 ' before me is the most picturesque aspect of the 
 most picturesque of towns ; a green valley, through 
 the whole length of which the railroad runs, sepa- 
 rates me from the hilly slopes on which part of the 
 ancient city is built. To the right stands the old 
 castle on the summit of a rock, at whose base are 
 fine modern buildings in Greek architecture ; to the 
 left is the monument to Sir W^alter Scott, to the 
 right and to the left are two long perspective views 
 of the ancient and modern town. It is more strik- 
 ing and original than you can fancy. But to-day is 
 
LORD ABERDEEN. 
 
VISIT TO ENGLAND. 311 
 
 the third of Augxist ; you will receive this letter on 
 the sixth. I wish I were the letter. I had rather 
 be at Val-Richer than at Edinburgh. I had rather 
 be there every day in the year, as well as on the 
 sixth of August. In this new and beautiful spot, in 
 the presence of all these historical recollections there 
 is one recollection which effaces them all, and fills 
 my mind — the remembrance of the sixth of August, 
 1829 — your birth, your face which has not altered, 
 my happiness and your mother's happiness — one 
 and the same happiness for both of us — all in the 
 little room in the little house that I have enlarged 
 and arranged, and that is now being taken away 
 from me, and of which next year, perhaps, there 
 will be left no trace. Everything passes away ex- 
 cept the soul and all that gave it life in this world 
 while waiting for the life immortal. May Grod bless 
 you, my child, you, and your husband and children, 
 in the present and the future ! We are very far 
 from each other, the sea separates us, and my affec- 
 tion will not be satisfied with an idea, I hold to the 
 real presence, which, I hope, will be restored to me 
 in three weeks. May nothing before that time prove 
 to us the fragility of our dearest hopes. 
 
 'Yesterday we had a very agreeable journey 
 from York with Lord Aberdeen, his son, and his 
 physician, in a large invalid carriage, with twelve 
 seats in it, which he engaged in London. The jour- 
 ney was gratis as well as agreeable. When we 
 arrived here, at the Royal Hotel, Princes Street, we 
 dressed. We then went to dine with Lord Aber- 
 
312 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 deen at Douglas' Hotel, a very fine hotel in the 
 middle of the town, to which he always goes. The 
 most indifferent spectator would be touched by 
 Lord Aberdeen's kindness to me. He thinks of 
 everything, but if he is afraid that he has forgotten 
 something, he twitches the left side of his lip with a 
 comical mixture of friendliness towards me and 
 anger against himself. He started this morning for 
 Haddo, where he tells me he has appointed a meet- 
 ing of the whole family, and that I shall see his 
 nine grandchildren ; Lady Haddo has six. 
 
 'To retitm to Edinburgh — a splendid ray of 
 sunshine lights it up at this moment, the only thing 
 which it wanted. It is really as peculiar as it is 
 beautiful, and as beautiful as it is peculiar. The 
 side of the hill in front of my room is covered with 
 enormous old houses, churches, and other buildings, 
 and the road up to them leads through meadows 
 and trees. As soon as I have finished my letters 
 we shall go out, and go out alone. The two learned 
 cicerones, for whom Lord Haddington gave me let- 
 ters, are out of town, as almost every one is at 
 present. To tell the truth, I am all the better 
 pleased. In travelling I love liberty.' 
 
 M. Guizot spent a fortnight at Haddo, surrounded 
 by Lord Aberdeen's children and grandchildren. 
 
 ' We have just come in,' he wrote on the eighth of 
 August, ' from a long walk in the park ; sometimes 
 we sat down, and then we walked on again, con- 
 versing the whole time. Lord Aberdeen had not 
 done so much for a long time, and his pleasure 
 
VISIT TO ENGLAND. 313 
 
 more than doubles mine. He has created a fine 
 park in an ugly country. It is immensely large ; 
 eleven miles from one end to the other, with here 
 and there large old trees ; all the rest is covered by 
 a young forest, which he planted himself, inter- 
 sected by innumerable paths, and divided first by 
 a* lake, and then by a river. Between the house 
 and the park is a French garden. He walks slowly, 
 stopping every now and then to point out the prin- 
 cipal beauties, with the melancholy kindness of a 
 failing but affectionate old man. 
 
 ' To-day, at noon, I went to the parish church ; it 
 is two miles off. All the family, except its head and 
 the little children, drove thither in two carriages, the 
 servants in an omnibus. The service was altogether 
 Presbyterian ; the church was very small and very 
 full. The population seemed well-to-do, both morally 
 and materially. There were as many men as women, 
 all with their books in their hands, and singing fairly 
 well. A music-master was sent for from Aberdeen 
 to give them lessons. The whole congregation con- 
 sisted of Lord Aberdeen's farmers and their servants; 
 he has more than 900 farmers. I repeated what the 
 Duke of Argyll told me — that he (the Duke) was 
 the last Scottish laird who could call together 3000 or 
 4000 men. Lord Aberdeen turned to his son Arthur 
 and said, " I think I, too, could gather some thou- 
 sands." It would be impossible to fill such a great 
 position with more modesty and liberality. 
 
 ' The more I see of Lord Aberdeen the more 
 friendship I feel for him. His slow, cold, sometimes 
 
314 MONSIEUE GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 shy, and occasionally sarcastic manner, covers the 
 rarest qualities of head and heart. His mind is as 
 liberal and original as it is sensible, and, without the 
 slightest appearance of pretension, he can give a 
 thoughtful opinion on every subject. We have in- 
 terminable conversations in our tete-d-tete walks after 
 luncheon and in the evening, after dinner.' 
 
 It was the last meeting of the two friends in this 
 world. Lord Aberdeen was slowly and quietly failing, 
 soon he was unable to leave his room, and could see 
 only his children. He expired on the fourteenth of 
 December, 1860. 
 
 ' For England's sake,' M. Guizot wrote on the 
 seventeenth, ' I trust that the Due de Broglie ex- 
 aggerates when he says that Lord Aberdeen was the 
 last Englishman ; however, he certainly was the last 
 of the great political school of English politicians, 
 and he was the most equitable, the kindest, the most 
 large-minded, liberal, and moral of them all. And 
 he was (which no one who only knew his face and 
 manner suspected) tender and modest. To me he 
 was so to an extent which is indescribable. If I were 
 to live for a thousand years, his person and his friend- 
 ship would be as vividly present to me as they are 
 now, and I shall not live for a thousand years. In 
 the short space of two years, Macaulay, Hallam, and 
 Aberdeen, have passed away: three men of rare 
 merit, and two of them my intimate friends.' 
 
 M. Guizot's visit to England interrupted the prep- 
 aration of the second volume of his Memoirs ; the 
 first appeared in the beginning of the year. 
 
VISIT TO ENGLAND. 315 
 
 ' The book interests people very much,' he wrote 
 to his daughter, in April, 'and astonishes them a 
 little ; Dumon declares that it exhibits as much 
 youthfulness as experience. Cousin said to Du- 
 chatel, " The first chapter put me into a fever by re- 
 storing my youth. I put the work down. I took it 
 up again, and again had fever. It was only after 
 the third attempt that I could read it without being 
 in a fever, and was able to go on to the end. It is 
 excellent, excellent in every respect," and then he 
 pays magnificent compliments. Talking of Dumon, 
 people are full of his success at the Tuileries, he 
 went up at the head of a deputation from the three 
 great railway companies. The Emperor asks every- 
 body, " Why does no one speak to me and serve 
 me in this manner?'' Momy says, "If I were the 
 Emperor, I would put a cord round M. Dumon's neck, 
 and drag him to the Minister e des Finances." I replied, 
 " Dumon would let himself be hanged." In spite of 
 all this success, Dumon does not expect to get what 
 he wants ; something will be done, but not enough 
 to give the spur that is required to the affairs of the 
 railway companies.' 
 
 On the ninth of July he wrote to his son, who was 
 travelling : ' M. Kenan's article on my Memoirs is in 
 the Bevue of the first. It is very clever, in a lofty, 
 hberal, and independent spirit, and very good in a 
 political sense ; very favourable to me, but a little 
 conventional ; he makes me out to be the same stiff, 
 tragical, solitary person that will end by becoming 
 legendary, and as false as any other legend. 
 
316 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 'I am looking over the proofs of Samlet, your 
 translation is excellent, and the notes worthy of an 
 adoring, almost an idolatrous, commentator. The 
 first set of proofs I corrected were full of errors.' 
 
 The great subject of interest with M. Guizot at 
 this time was the marriage of his son to Mademoiselle 
 Gahrielle de Flaux. His future daughter-in-law 
 belonged to one of the principal Protestant families 
 at Nimes; her uncle, M. ^douard Flaux, had formerly 
 been a fellow-student and friend of M. Guizot's at 
 Geneva. On the twentieth of March, 1860, he wrote 
 to his son at Nimes : — 
 
 ' My dear child, Pauline has just received a letter 
 from you with which we are all much pleased, you 
 write as if you were so happy ; she is going to send 
 it at once to her sister, who will be as much de- 
 lighted with it as we are. Enjoy your happiness, 
 and when it is yours entirely, take great care of 
 it. Happiness, like every other plant, must be 
 cherished. I am beginning to be very impatient to 
 have a look myself at what charms you so much, 
 and to enjoy my share of it. Do not fail to tell "us 
 immediately the precise days * as soon as they are 
 fixed.' 
 
 M. Guizot returned to his native town for the first 
 time for thirty years, in order to be present at his 
 son's marriage on the twenty-sixth of April, 1860. 
 His daughters and one of his sons-in-law accompanied 
 him. They were all dehghted to see the places they 
 
 * For the contract and the marriase. — Tr. 
 
bEMOLITION OF HIS HOUSE. 317 
 
 had so often heard spoken of, and to find how vivid 
 was the remembrance left by their grandmother, 
 Madame Guizot, in the hearts and minds of all who 
 knew her. 
 
 On their return to Val-Richer they found their 
 house somewhat in disorder. The demolitions going 
 on in Paris had, to M. Guizot's annoyance, reached 
 his little house in the Rue la Ville I'fiveque. 
 
 'It was fifty years ago, in 1809,' he wrote to his 
 daughter, ' that I came for the first time to live in 
 this house. It became my property in 1828, when 
 I married your mother. The longest, as well as the 
 happiest period of my life was spent in it. Life, 
 fortunately, does not leave its traces only on the walls 
 within which it has been spent ; but the walls were 
 dear to me, and I shall always regret them.' 
 
 M. G-uizot transported all his library to Val-Richer, 
 and the new arrangements were hardly completed. 
 ' I do not like,' he says, ' to think of all your doors 
 wide open, and the passages, staircases, &c., in con- 
 fusion. I like the house to be always clean and 
 snug, and comfortable for you. You must pass 
 through this chaos ; it is like the wild boar going 
 through the swamp. You are much more like an 
 ermine than a wild boar ; however, when once we 
 have got rid of the dust, and the doors are all shut 
 again, Val-Richer will be a beautiful and capital 
 residence. I like to picture it to myself as it will 
 be then. I rejoice in it for you and me, and all who 
 will come after us. 
 
 ' 1860 looks dark. A great event is impending. 
 
318 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 The King of Sardinia will yield Savoy and Nice to 
 France, provided that France will give her support 
 and consent to his annexing central Italy, including 
 the Legations, to Piedmont. Paris asks for nothing 
 better, and I believe the treaty is already signed. 
 They are trying to persuade England to agree to, or 
 at any rate not to oppose, this transaction. I am 
 inclined to think that they will succeed, probably by 
 yielding some commercial advantages. The general 
 public will call this a success, but the religious 
 question, which is the important one, will be still 
 further complicated, for it will be not only a positive 
 sanction of the Pope's spoliation, but a sanction 
 which has been paid for. The first time that Lord 
 Palmerston was sounded on the subject, he replied, 
 without absolutely rejecting the proposal, " It is very 
 odd; the Emperor Napoleon declared in the be- 
 ginning that he wished to maintain the integrity of 
 the Papal States, and desired no territorial aggran- 
 dizement for France ; in the end he will have accom- 
 plished neither of his wishes." ' 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 1860-66. 
 
 HIS ' MEMOIRS ' AND ' MEDITATIONS.' 
 
 The lives of all his children were settled accordino- 
 to M. Guizot's satisfaction. He enjoyed the happi- 
 ness which was common to them all. His grand- 
 children grew up and developed round him without 
 there being as yet any necessity for thinking of their 
 future. 
 
 On the fourth of October, 1860, he wrote to his 
 son and to his daughter-in-law, who were at that 
 time in the South : — 
 
 ' My dear children, I miss you to-day more than 
 I usually do. This morning, at eight o'clock, the 
 six children breakfasted in my study. They ex- 
 hibited pages of writing and letters in English. 
 Cornelis and Jeanne bore the palm in writing, Mar- 
 guerite in recitation ; she recited the whole of the 
 dream in Athalie, and the lines before and after with 
 a tragical expression which did not succeed in dim- 
 ming her eyes or paling her cheeks. Then came the 
 mother's and father's present — a very pretty pair of 
 bronze candlesticks for the mantelpiece in the library. 
 
320 MONSIEUR GTJIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE, 
 
 The -RTiting- table, which is to stand near the fire in 
 my study, is not yet come. I shall be glad of it ; 
 the weather is getting cold, and I shall soon quit my 
 place at the window. The four Boileaus were at 
 breakfast, but you two were not there. Your ghosts, 
 however, were all the more present to me, like those 
 of Brutus and Cassius, to whom, it must be owned, 
 you do not bear the slightest resemblance. 
 
 * You ask for news ; that is to say, for our com- 
 ments on the news. The King of Naples has rendered 
 a great service to M. de Cavour, by beating Garibaldi, 
 who has become yielding and submissive. He was 
 seized with a violent fit of hatred, and was ready to 
 commit any madness, but without any personal 
 animosity ; both his hatred and his madness were 
 prompted by others. I think he is not very sorry 
 that his defeat obliges him to be sensible. M. de 
 Cavour will have the trouble of dethroning the King 
 of Naples, who has turned round at the last moment, 
 and is defending himself I am glad of it, for the 
 honour of the name of Bourbon ; but, nevertheless, 
 he will be dethroned. The Piedmontese army will 
 make way for the entrance of universal suffrage into 
 Naples. History has long been alternately a comedy 
 and a tragedy — it is becoming a melo-drama. 
 
 ' The death of M. de Pimodan has caused some 
 excitement. The young French nobles overpower 
 Lamoriciere with civilities. The Pope has let slip on 
 this occasion an excellent opportunity for embarrass- 
 ing and discrediting his enemies. The Catholics of 
 discrimination wanted him to shut himself up in 
 
HIS 'memoies' and _^' meditations.' 321 
 
 Ancona, and force the enemy either to starve hun out 
 or take him by assault. They now want him to leave 
 Rome, to protest against everything, and to wander 
 over Europe, a clerical Belisarius. I do not thruk 
 that he will do this. 
 
 ' What is going on in Austria certainly betokens a 
 crisis in the Monarchy. Will the crisis lead to re- 
 generation or destruction ? I am incHned to hope 
 the former, not only because Austria is a necessary 
 piece in European machinery, but on account of the 
 nature itself of the crisis. The movement is liberal 
 yet not revolutionary ; the Austrian barons are ask- 
 ing their Emperor for a charter which will respect 
 and develope their history. The problem is whether 
 the Emperor Francis Joseph will surrender his 
 despotic power, to which the mob submits willingly, 
 in order to become liberal, with the support of the 
 nobles and the middle classes. This is a great 
 problem in itself, and a great novelty among Con- 
 tinental monarchies. 
 
 ' M. de Cavour and Italy will keep quiet during 
 the winter. 
 
 ' I have had a long letter from Albert de Broglie : 
 his wife is recovering a little, but slowly ; and a very 
 clever letter from M. Doudan, who says: "I cannot 
 think how reasonable people do not know that a 
 Pope without territory is one of the most dangerous 
 beings in creation : a kite without a very heavy tail is 
 likely to give frightful blows on the head." Here 
 are your two letters. Good bye, my children, hearty 
 kisses for you both.' 
 
 21 
 
322 MONSIEUK GUIZOT IN PKIVATE LIFE. 
 
 Henceforth M. Guizot went on writing without 
 interruption, passing two-thirds of the year at Val- 
 Richer, and continuing the two great works which 
 he had begun — his Memoirs to Illustrate the History 
 of My Time, and his Meditations on the Christian 
 jReligion. His heart was set on both these works. 
 In his conversations with his children, as well as in 
 his letters to his friends, he liked to develope his 
 ideas beforehand, and he made them still clearer and 
 more animated by anecdotes and reflections, which 
 he had not put into his manuscripts. His conversa- 
 tion contributed to the moral and intellectual de- 
 velopment of his listeners, and the following are 
 some passages from his letters on the subject of his 
 labours. 
 
 On the fifth of June, 1860, he wrote to M. Vitet, 
 one of the most faithful and intimate of his younger 
 friends, who had long been devoted to him : — 
 
 ' I hope, my dear friend, that you will be happy 
 in your solitude, and also that you will not long be 
 entirely alone. No one — not even you — can know 
 better than I do, that nothing can replace what you 
 have lost.* But time will teach you — as it has 
 taught me — not to despise joys of a secondary 
 kind — to enjoy them, although you do not over- 
 estimate their value. There are depths in the ocean 
 which the sun's rays that illumine and warm its sur- 
 
 * On the twenty-first of February, 1858, M. Vitet lost his wife 
 (MademoiseUe P&ier) who was as beautiful as she was distinguished 
 in other respects. 
 
HIS 'memoirs' and 'meditations.' 323 
 
 face, can never reacli — so it is with our minds after 
 certain blows — nevertheless, I can enjoy the sun. 
 
 ' I am delighted that you were pleased with my 
 third volume. The first part, on public education, 
 is important in itself, and also to my reputation, and 
 contains a special interest for the public. I regret, 
 as much as you do, that the second part is not pub- 
 lished with it. I intended to have given in this vol- 
 ume a complete history of the Cabinet of the eleventh 
 of October, of its foreign as well as of its home 
 policy. A foolish reason, which was entirely a ma- 
 terial reason, prevented me : it is that the volume 
 would have been too thick. I am anxious to explain 
 and to define in all its difi"erent phases, our foreign 
 policy, which at that time was strikingly original, 
 and has now quite gone out of fashion. When I 
 describe it in the years from 1832 to 1836, I shall 
 have to add a great many diplomatic despatches to 
 my text. I have no other reason to give for having 
 left this part out. I will tell why I am not very 
 sorry for having done so. My administration of the 
 Foreign Office, from 1840 to 1848, is for me a period 
 of equal importance with that when I was at the 
 head of Public Education — from 1832 to 1836. 
 My fourth volume will contain the germs of the two 
 questions, which later on filled the stage — the East- 
 em and the Spanish questions. It will, therefore, 
 be the introduction to the fifth and sixth volumes, 
 which will contain the history of my administration 
 of foreign affairs. I am not sorry that this introduc- 
 tion should appear by itself, and rather as the begin- 
 
324 MONSIEUE GUIZOT IN PEIVATE LIFE. 
 
 ning of tlie second part of my Memoirs than as the 
 end of the first part. 
 
 ' Next winter, when I pubhsh the fourth volume, 
 I shall ask you to notice tlie third and fourth vol- 
 umes at the same time, in the Bevue, partly to ex- 
 plain to the public what I have just told you, — the 
 reasons for the form in which the work appears — 
 but especially on account of certain facts — the Co- 
 alition, for instance — on which I wish to have the 
 benefit of your comments. 
 
 ' You think that while I have avoided certain diffi- 
 culties, I have boldly attacked and conquered cer- 
 tain others which were very serious. Some of my 
 friends were, and probably still are, very uneasy 
 lest I should split on these rocks. I have never 
 shared their uneasiness, nor do I now. A few weeks 
 ago. Cousin told me in one of his fits of affection, 
 "You have one immense advantage, — you are 
 never at a loss." He spoke truly, and I was grate- 
 ful for the compliment. When I determined to 
 write and to publish my Memoirs, I made up my 
 mind to be perfectly frank ; I was convinced that I 
 should always be faitlrful and affectionate to my 
 friends, and just and moderate to my adversaries. 
 If the book were not frank, it would have no value. 
 If I had myself felt, or allowed others to inspire me 
 with, the least embarrassment, I should not have 
 written at all.' 
 
 On the twenty-fourth of July, 1868, he wrote on 
 the Meditations to M. Vitet : — 
 
 ' I shall be delighted if, as Madame Lenormant 
 
HIS 'memoirs' and 'meditations.' 825 
 
 tells me, you notice my Meditations in the Journal 
 des Savants, and I am especially glad that you like 
 the "Meditation on Christian Ignorance." Let me 
 tell you that it is, in my opinion, the most original 
 and important of them all, — the one that most con- 
 duces to the rational solution of the questions which 
 trouble the mind in the present day But it requires 
 development. The seeds are planted ; one can only 
 guess at what fruit they may produce. Let me tell 
 you that I hold to the title, " Christian Ignorance." 
 It is the only one that expresses my idea. Christian 
 Humility has become a devotional term and would 
 not express my meaning. My conviction is that 
 Christians are, and must continue to be, ignorant of 
 the reason why — the scientific explanation of the 
 great supernatural events in Christianity. To ac- 
 knowledge the truth, without seeking to explain it, 
 constitutes Christian Faith. I apply this idea to the 
 double nature of Our Saviour and to the Trinity. 
 Both these facts are evangelically certain ; every 
 attempt to form them into a system, that is to say, 
 to explain them scientifically, is vain and false. I 
 own that this theory sets on one side a great many 
 canonical councils and theological systems, but one 
 must choose between Divine assertion and human 
 knowledge. Once more I repeat I am sorry that I 
 could not give all the developments which were 
 necessary to the full elucidation of the subject ; but 
 you are one of those rare critics who, having once 
 seized on an idea, can follow it out in all its 
 bearings.' 
 
326 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 In 1864 he wrote to M. de Barante one of those 
 intimate conversational letters which are like the 
 distant echo of a long and close friendship : — 
 
 ' My dear friend, I have just written to your poor 
 sister.* I pity her from my heart. I know what it 
 is to lose a son, a son who had attained manhood, an 
 excellent son. It seemed to me that you and he 
 were united by a real friendship. We pass our 
 lives between expected and unexpected deaths. Tell 
 me some news of yourself. I do not know if you 
 feel as I do — that you are less able to bear with 
 fortitude the loss of those you love now than you 
 were formerly. The nearer one is to the time when 
 one must leave them, the sadder it appears to see 
 them go before. I entered my seventy-eighth year 
 yesterday, but life does not seem to me fragile for 
 myself In 1833 I lost my wife, and in 1837 Taj 
 elder son — both of them so young, so happy, so 
 full of life ! Since that time I have lost all confi- 
 dence in life for others ; I have never felt safe. 
 
 ' It is a long while since I have written to you. 
 I often think of you, and long to talk with you, we 
 spent so many years together. I am sure that it is 
 not from an old man's prejudice that I prefer our 
 times to these. Even if we were not looking at 
 them from this point of view ; if we beheld what is 
 now going on from some other sphere, we should be 
 of the same opinion. Indecision and impotence are 
 
 * M. Etienne Anisson-Duperron had just died. His mother 
 was M. de Barante's sister. 
 
HIS 'memoirs' AOT5 'mebitations.' 327 
 
 the characteristics of the men of the present day. 
 They exhibit neither fixed opinions nor strong will 
 in anything they do. They float and follow the 
 course of the stream. Count Bismarck is the only 
 man in Europe who seems to be really ambitious, 
 or who perseveres in a plan, because he has con- 
 ceived it, and is determined to effect it. He has 
 neither good sense nor honesty, but he has char- 
 acter. 
 
 ' Can you imagine anything more contemptible 
 than this new phase of the Roman Question ? We 
 leave Rome trembling and regretting our departure. 
 Shall we have really left it two years hence ? At 
 any rate, our conduct has produced the effect of 
 desertion in the minds of all the clergy I meet. 
 
 ' Grood-bye, dear friend. Give me some news of 
 yourself. How are you ? What are you doing ? 
 I am hard at work. I am writing the seventh vol- 
 ume of my Memoirs, from 1842 to 1846. I expect 
 to publish it in the course of the winter ; I shall 
 then resume the second volume of my Meditations 
 on the Christian Religion. It will take me three 
 years to finish these two works. Will they be 
 granted to me ? I hope so. God must decide.' 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 1866-72. 
 
 FINISHES HIS TWO WOEKS FEANCO-GEEMAN WAE. 
 
 The Queen, Marie Amfelie, died at Claremont, on 
 the twenty-fourth of March, 1866. On the twenty- 
 fifth M. Guizot wrote : — 
 
 ' The newspapers will take you the sad news of 
 the Queen's death. Bocher came to tell me yester- 
 day at six o'clock ; his orders were to inform all the 
 friends. The telegraphic despatch says : — " The 
 Queen expired suddenly and quietly this morning 
 at eleven o'clock. No other details." It is said 
 that after suffering for forty-eight hours from a cold, 
 her breath failed her. A great soul has taken flight, 
 after a beautiful life full of sorrows and trials. I 
 shall always think of her with respect and sadness. 
 She bore all her trials with dignity and fortitude ; 
 she preserved her animation and serenity to the last ; 
 she united the seriousness of a Christian to the vi- 
 vacity of a Sicilian. Nothing, of course, has yet 
 been said about the funeral. I am determined to 
 attend it. No other occasion would induce me to 
 re-visit England.' 
 

 e./i«/i/j/iT 
 
 LA REINB AMELIE. 
 
FINISHES HIS TWO WOBKS. 329 
 
 On the twenty-eightli of June he wrote to M. de 
 Barante : — 
 
 ' I am delighted, my dear friend, that you are 
 pleased with the new volume of my Meditations. 
 Although we live at a great distance from each 
 other, I am sure that our old sympathy still con- 
 tinues, and will continue. It is, indeed, of very 
 ancient date, and it has gone through many trials. 
 It is derived from a source which is far above trials 
 or the effects of years. 
 
 ' I am sorry that your health never allows you to 
 come to Paris. But while I regret it, I understand 
 it. I am a few years younger than you are, and I 
 have better health ; but I scarcely ever leave Val- 
 Richer. I have just spent twenty-four hours in 
 England, to attend our Queen's funeral, and I have 
 been passing two days in Paris for the elections at 
 the Academy of Moral Science. I am always in a 
 great hurry to return to my home, which I never 
 leave unless there is some evident necessity. I 
 have two tasks to finish, if God will allow me, my 
 Memoirs and my Meditations, I am anxious to say 
 what I have done in this world, and what I think 
 about the next. I shall devote this summer and 
 autumn to the eighth and last volume of my Me- 
 moirs. I hope to publish it in March, 1867. I 
 leave off, of course, with the twenty-third of Feb- 
 ruary, 1848, when my Ministry fell. 
 
 ' I am speaking of nothing but myself. My life 
 is less disturbed than the world. How many things 
 we should have to say if we could talk together, 
 
330 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 and how mucli we should enjoy sharing the same 
 opinions ! But we are too far apart. 
 
 ' Here are the Italians beaten in the beginning ; 
 if the Prussians meet with the same fate a solution 
 may be foreseen. If the war should continue, it 
 will invade the whole of Europe ; and God alone 
 knows how and when it will end. 
 
 ' Farewell, dear friend. Preserve all the friend- 
 ship you gave me long ago, and beheve that I do 
 not change any more than you do.' 
 
 M. de Barante died on the twenty-second of No- 
 vember, 1866 ; a passage in his will testifies his 
 constant attachment to the friend whom he preceded 
 by a few years into eternity. M. Guizot attached 
 great importance to rendering justice to his memory. 
 
 In a letter to M. Vitet, who, as well as himself, 
 was suffering severe anxiety on account of another 
 friend, M. Duchatel, equally bound up with both 
 their lives, M. Gruizot says : — 
 
 ' I cannot tell whether I am glad to know that 
 you are at Pied-du-Teme instead of Dieppe, or if 
 the sadness of expectation be not even more painful 
 than that of witnessing such a scene. I have long 
 been touched by your fraternal affection for Du- 
 ch&tel. Your sorrow must be, and will continue to 
 be, great. You have experienced one that was still 
 more severe. Like you, I have witnessed the deaths 
 of those whom I loved best in the world. I can 
 remember the anguish of those days as distinctly as 
 if it were yesterday, and yet, at that time, I should 
 
FINISHES mS TWO WORKS. 331 
 
 have considered it as the greatest happiness to be 
 sure that my anguish would last forever. I do not 
 say, as was said by the poor little Queen whose 
 name I cannot just now remember, " Fie upon 
 life ! " but I have an immense pity for all that is 
 lost and suffered in it. 
 
 ' People are pleased with the article upon Barante. 
 I am glad of it for the sake of his family and of his 
 memory. It gives me pleasure to put my own time 
 and my friends into their right place. The Pere 
 Gratry* wrote to me, with a delightful, childlike 
 candour, that he opened the Bevue with fear; but 
 that, after he had read it, he was completely reas- 
 sured. He thinks that we agree in our opinion, and 
 that I have indicated his views without borrowing 
 from them. I am quite sure that I have borrowed 
 nothing from you, and that, while you agree with 
 me you will say things that I have not said.' 
 
 When M. Guizot wrote this notice of M. de Barante 
 he had just finished his Memoirs. 
 
 ' Ouf! I have finished my Memoirs ! ' he wrote 
 on the twentieth of March. ' I have just written 
 the last line of my summary; Michel Levy will 
 fetch it to-morrow, or the day after. It is now in 
 the hands of the printer and publisher. I have a 
 feeling of great satisfaction and repose. I had the 
 termination of this work very much at heart. I 
 
 * The Pere Gratry replaced M. de Barante at the Academy 
 and was received by M. Vitet. Each had therefore to speak of 
 M. de Barante. — Tr. 
 
332 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PEIVATE LIFE. 
 
 have still one left to finish, and I hope God will 
 give me time and strength to do so, I feel, just 
 now, as if I should like to set off on a tour round 
 the world ; but I shall do nothing of the sort ! ' 
 
 M. Guizot's Meditations were finished, as well as 
 his Memoirs, when he was deprived of the last and 
 dearest of his friends. On the twenty-first of Octo- 
 ber, 1868, he wrote from Broglie: — 
 
 ' I found the Due de Broglie well, both in body 
 and mind, but still less able to move. "I am in 
 good health ; but my feet no longer carry me. I 
 am going on well, only I cannot go on at all. 
 Our sympathy is more complete than ever.' 
 
 On the twenty-sixth of January, 1870, he wrote 
 to his elder daughter : — 
 
 " My child, you will be almost as grieved as I 
 am. The Due de Broglie died last night at ten 
 o'clock; he was suff'ocated as he was getting into 
 bed — without any pain or uneasiness. He expired 
 suddenly. I was with him at four o'clock ; he was 
 sitting quietly reading in his armchair ; he could 
 use only his left hand ; he complained of nothing 
 but want of sleep. When I left him I felt anxious, 
 from the depression, not of his mind but of his coun- 
 tenance, and yet I was not anxious enough. Mis- 
 fortune is always unexpected. I have lost my oldest, 
 my best, and most distinguished friend. His was a 
 beautiful character ; so dignified and yet so modest ; 
 such entire and unaffected disinterestedness ; such 
 sincere respect for truth at the same time as for lib- 
 erty — for Divine truth and human liberty ; so sub- 
 
FINISHES HIS TWO WORKS. 333 
 
 missive towards God and devoted to tlie welfare of 
 mankind — he had every pure and noble sentiment, 
 and no petty passions. When I think of him I feel, 
 at the same time, his value and his loss. He and 
 his wife, he and Lord Aberdeen, occupy, and will 
 always occupy, the same place in my heart. I am 
 not separated from them entirely. When shall I go 
 to join them as well as those whom I have loved 
 best in this world 1 
 
 ' Farewell, my child ; I still have you. You know, 
 do you not, all that you are to me 1 Yesterday, when 
 I quitted him, he held out his hand — his left hand, 
 the only one he could use — I think there was a 
 solemn meaning in the gesture. I felt it instinctively 
 at the time.' 
 
 Again, a fortnight later, on the tenth of Feb- 
 ruary : — 
 
 ' Albert de Broglie (I find it difficult to call him 
 the Due de Broglie) brought to me, yesterday, this 
 paragraph from his father's will : — 
 
 "'I bequeath to my friend, M. Guizot, a book to 
 be chosen by him from my library at Broglie. I 
 consider our long friendship as one of the most pre- 
 cious of the gifts which God has granted to me." 
 
 ' I was much affected. He could not have ex- 
 pressed himself more simply and affectionately. 
 Albert, also, was touched. As he was leaving me he 
 said : "I ask you to allow me to do nothing with- 
 out consulting you. You are my second father." 
 
 ' As he spoke I seemed to see before me his father 
 and mother; two of the most beautiful characters 
 
4 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 it it has been my privilege to know. Such privi- 
 ^es are the greatest strokes of good fortune which 
 1 befall us in life.' 
 
 M. de Broglie left this world when the attempt at 
 eralising the Imperial Government was reviving 
 ) hopes of the old Parliamentarians. ' We shall, 
 rhaps, save ourselves the expense of a Revolution,' 
 said, with a smile. A few months later, in the 
 dst of the disasters which personal rule had brought 
 on France, M. Guizot's thoughts constantly re- 
 nted to his friend, ' How right my poor Victor was 
 die ! ' he often repeated. 
 
 Life is everywhere and always mingled with death, 
 i joy with sadness. Grandchildren multiplied 
 md M. Guizot, his second daughter gave birth to 
 : fourth son a few days after her own eldest daughter 
 s married to M. Theodore Yernes. M. Guizot was 
 y much pleased with this marriage, which cou- 
 nted him with a family and a man * whom he had 
 i^ays esteemed, and to whom he soon became much 
 ached. He was expecting the young couple at 
 1-Richer. The birth of his grandson Francois 
 Bcted him deeply, on account of the name of the 
 ant. The time had come when there was a tender 
 isfaction in hearing it constantly repeated. 
 ' Give me news of your sister and of FranQois,' he 
 ote, on the twenty-third of May, 1870, to his elder 
 lighter, ' I cannot write this name without emotion, 
 
 * M. Felix Vernes, the father of M. Theodore Vernea ; he died 
 the thirtieth of December, 1879. 
 

 
 >^^^/ - I 
 
 
 JU^' 
 
 {.a" 
 
 J ■''■ 
 
 _LE DUO DE BROGLIE. 
 
THE PEANCO-GEEMAN WAR. 335 
 
 I am glad that it has been given to the child. May 
 God give him grace to resemble his uncle ! I have 
 never met a more noMe and charming character 
 throughout my long life. He was worthy of his 
 mother. 
 
 'Our sermon yesterday dissatisfied me while I 
 was reading it. There is, of course, no such thing 
 as legitimate idolatry, but one can never honour, 
 admire, or love, sufficiently those natures which are 
 the living though imperfect likeness of the Divinity. 
 We must not refuse to acknowledge their deficiencies ; 
 but we never sufficiently recognise their value. I 
 felt this in my youth when I possessed so many 
 objects of tender adoration. I feel it still more now 
 after having gone through so many trials and known 
 so many people. God has bestowed on me the great- 
 est of all favours, one that can be compared with no 
 other — that of knowing and possessing more than 
 one of His noblest creatures ! ' 
 
 These family rejoicings and causes for gratitude 
 were soon followed by patriotic griefs and anxieties. 
 France was advancing gaily to the edge of the 
 precipice. 
 
 ' I am shocked and grieved,' M. Guizot wrote on 
 the seventeenth of July, 1870 ; ' shocked by the 
 attitude of the two governments and nations. In 
 1846, in the Spanish marriages, England suffered a 
 much greater affront than the candidature of the 
 Prince of Hohenzollern could possibly be for France. 
 Lord Palmerston brought forward the Prince of 
 Coburg as the official candidate favoured by England, 
 
336 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 and was beaten. The marriages took place in oppo- 
 sition to Ms expressed remonstrance, but it did not 
 enter into the heads of the English, or of Lord 
 Palmerston himself, to go to war with us. Yet the 
 Queen, ministers and nation, were very angry with 
 us. All that took place was a long and excited dis- 
 cussion on the preliminaries by both parties. To-day 
 a candidate, formally chosen by Spain, is displeasing 
 to us ; we say as much to Prussia who supports the 
 candidate, and the candidate retires with the appro- 
 bation of his supporters. Spain acquiesces in his- 
 retirement; this is not enough for us, we ask his 
 supporters to forbid him ever, absolutely and under 
 any circumstances, to come forward again. And on 
 this extraordinary request Prussia suddenly, and 
 without listening to another word, breaks off nego- 
 tiations and declares war, and there are crowds in 
 both countries who applaud. Which of the two 
 governments and nations is the most entirely de- 
 ficient in good sense and morality 1 In truth, I should 
 find it hard to say. It is indeed a case for the applica- 
 tion of the saying of the Chancellor Oxenstiern.* 
 
 ' I see no good issue out of all this, my optimism 
 fails me. Possibly the whole of Europe will be set 
 in a blaze, or possibly some fatal disaster to the one 
 or other country may occur, after cruel sufferings on 
 both sides. I content myself with the proverb, 
 " Short follies are the best." Take care to send us 
 all the news, true or false, and I shall make arrange- 
 
 ' With how little wisdom the world is governed.' — Tr. 
 
FRANCO-GERMAN WAR. 337 
 
 ments for having the letters sent twice every day 
 from Lisieux. I shall need an effort of will to pre- 
 vent myself from being distracted from my work. 
 The crusades of the eleventh century were not more 
 blind, and they had better excuses in those days for 
 not seeing clearly.' 
 
 Again on the nineteenth : — 
 
 ' This country is in a deplorable state. It is very 
 unequally divided between peace and war. Peace 
 has a larger majority, especially in the country, but 
 still opinion is somewhat divided. M. de Chateau- 
 briand was right when he said, " France is a soldier," 
 and Marshal Leboeuf also is right in saying, "The 
 French like parade, not barracks." The more I think 
 over it the more convinced am I of my own opinion. 
 Unfortunately when one is really right one is only 
 too right. Thiers was quite right: he spoke the 
 truth, if not the whole truth, when he said so de- 
 cidedly, and I approve highly of the phrase, that " I 
 set value on being remembered with honour." 
 
 ' What is going on, however, does not surprise me. 
 A nation's policy must have risen into a lofty and 
 serene atmosphere if it is to escape being buffeted by 
 the storms that agitate the regions below. A long 
 habit of free government can alone lift a people to 
 this level. We are very far from it. It is deplorable 
 — but I repeat myself 
 
 The events which followed surpassed, in their 
 sadness, M. Guizot's melancholy presentiment. He 
 fell ill. At one time his children feared that he did 
 not care to struggle against his malady, that he was 
 
 22 
 
338 MONSIEUE GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 too sad and too weary to wish to live. The idea, 
 however, struck him, while lying weak and helpless 
 in his bed, that he might yet be able to serve his 
 country by telling the world his opinion of the actual 
 state of things, of their cause, and of their possible 
 remedies : he rose up and set to work ; but his health 
 was shaken and his strength impaired. His courage, 
 however, was neither the one nor the other. On the 
 twelfth of September he wrote to M. Vitet : — 
 
 ' A few words, my dear friend, only to give you 
 news of myself, which I did not choose to do as long 
 as I should have had to give them to you from my 
 bed. 
 
 ' Grief and indignation are unwholesome at eighty- 
 three years of age. I have been very ill, and I am 
 still very weak. However, I am better, and I feel 
 that I am making a step towards recovery every day. 
 Would to God that I were as sure of the recovery of 
 France as I am of my own ! But France is in an 
 acute crisis. From a distance she seems to be bear- 
 ing it pretty well, without boasting or despair. What 
 I hear from Paris agrees with these impressions. I 
 no longer call myself an optimist, but I despair less 
 to-day than I did a week ago. We are beginning to 
 save our honour. Tliis is all that I dare hope for. 
 Whether you have any hope or not write and tell me 
 what you see, and what you think. We are two 
 Christian men, we shall understand and support each 
 other. Good-bye. I am tired.' 
 
 When the first clap of thunder was heard all 
 M. Guizot's children were with him at Val-Richer ; 
 
FRANCO-GERMAN WAR. 339 
 
 but it was tis principle that in every painful crisis 
 each man should be at his natural post. M. Cornells 
 de Witt returned to Paris, where his usual duties lay, 
 and his wife soon joined him, determined to bear 
 everything with him and by his side. Their daugh- 
 ter, Madame Theodore de Vernes, and her hus- 
 band and eldest child, stayed with them ; their other 
 children remained at Val-Richer with M. -Guizot 
 and the eldest married couple in the family — M. 
 and Madame Conrad de "Witt. They sent provisions 
 to Paris and took measures to obtain letters, without 
 anticipating, in the least, the total separation which 
 was in store for them. All communications ceased 
 on the eighteenth of September ; Madame Gruillaume 
 Guizot reached Val-Richer a few days before to take 
 an affectionate part in the filial duties, in the labours 
 and anxieties of every day, her husband remaining 
 at his post in the besieged capital. On the ninth 
 of September M. Guizot wrote to his daughter, 
 Madame Cornells de Witt : — 
 
 ' Gabrielle arrived last night ; the train was very 
 late, but she is in excellent health and spirits. She 
 has courage and good sense ; the two qualities of 
 most importance in ordinary life as well as in days 
 of trial. Thank Cornells for his last letter, its forti- 
 tude and precision gave me real pleasure ; it exhibited 
 neither despair nor illusions. I shall certainly write 
 to him very soon ; I have written to no one but you 
 for the last fortnight. 
 
 ' Your children are well, and are behaving well ; 
 Eachel is virtuous, Suzanne tractable, Francois per- 
 
340 MONSIEUE GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 feet. Robert and Pierre study a little and give no 
 trouble. Robert is an excellent purveyor of trout, 
 the only food I have been able to touch for several 
 days. 
 
 ' Good-bye, my child. I am quite sure that you 
 write to me every day, and you are right in so doing ; 
 letters in themselves are a pleasure, even when they 
 contain only sad tidings.' 
 
 Letters continued to be written as a protest ; al- 
 though, as they were seldom received, it was a con- 
 tinual effort. On the fourth of October, M. Guizot 
 wrote : 
 
 ' How I miss you ! I think this is the first time 
 that the fourth of October has been so unsatisfactory. 
 I send you my blessing, my children. Pauline, 
 Cornells — both the Cornelis — Guillaume, Marie, 
 Theodore, receive each one of you my blessing, and 
 pray that it may not be long before we are reunited ! 
 How much happiness and sorrow are contained in a 
 long life ! When I ransack up my memory, when I 
 go over again all that I have done, thought, and felt, 
 since the fourth of October, 1787, I can scarcely 
 believe that so much has taken place in a few years. 
 And it all still lives and is present in my heart. I 
 do not know if I have learned all that I ought to 
 have learned, but I have forgotten nothing. 
 
 ' All that are here were with me just now, break- 
 fasting and reciting — Marguerite, a long and charm- 
 ing legend in English verse ; Jeanne, an excellent 
 translation of five or six of the most beautiful and 
 difficult pages of Milton ; Robert, a copy of verses ; 
 
FRANCO-GERMAN WAR. 341 
 
 Pien-e, Rachel, and Suzanne, recited each a long piece 
 of poetry very well, Rachel especially. They are 
 happy, — very happy now. They will have their 
 share of sorrow, God grant that it may not be too 
 heavy ! 
 
 ' I write to-day only to you, for you all. Henriette 
 is writing to Marie. You will all have letters if they 
 reach you. My health is improving daily. I have 
 some reason to hope that my letters to my English 
 friends will not be without eifect' 
 
 Again, on the twenty-fourth of October : — 
 ' At length we are allowed to breathe occasion- 
 ally. We have received your letters of the four- 
 teenth and eighteenth; the one of the fourteenth 
 reached us last, having gone round by England. I 
 hope that by trying every means, our letters will 
 sometimes reach you. All is going on well in this 
 house, and not badly in the country round. There 
 is neither enthusiasm nor weakness. Calvados is in 
 a disturbed condition ; there are 6000 of the garde 
 mobile at Dreux. They have already fought well, 
 and I hope that they will continue to do so. An- 
 other Prussian attack is announced. I often send 
 letters to England and to the departments. To the 
 English I maintain that England's neutrality may 
 be efficacious without being warlike, and that it 
 ought to be so on pain of losing her political influ- 
 ence in Europe. I advise our departments to trust 
 to no illusions nor yet to despair. For the mad cry, 
 " a Berlin, a Berlin ! " the cry, " a Paris, a Paris ! " 
 should be substituted. I am especially anxious 
 about food for you. 
 
342 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 'Your children are very good, both boys and 
 girls ; Rachel is always exemplary. I do not think 
 I ever saw a child of her age acquire so quickly the 
 feeling of duty and the power of self-government — 
 the two capital qualities in this life. Good-bye, my 
 child ; my love to all.' 
 
 When the lamentable termination to the war at 
 length threw open the gates of Paris, M. Cornells de 
 "Witt, who was one of the first to leave the city, 
 heard, as soon as he set foot in. Normandy, that he 
 had been elected a Deputy for Calvados. Twice 
 already, in 1863 and 1869, he had been the Liberal 
 Conservative candidate, now that in the hour of 
 public danger he was elected, he immediately set 
 out through the wasted and pillaged country, still 
 occupied by foreign troops, to Bordeaux. His wife 
 arrived soon afterwards at Val-Richer, where she 
 was surrounded by all her family. Her hair had 
 turned white, and her health, though apparently 
 good, had received a shock from which it never 
 recovered. ' My heart has not been at ease for five 
 months,' she said. Only three times had the at- 
 tempts to carry news of those she loved to her 
 succeeded. 
 
 The grief and anger caused by the events which 
 were taking place in Paris — the humiliation of the 
 Commune added to the humiliations of national de- 
 feat and the bitterness of a forced peace — cruelly 
 tried the bravest hearts. Madame Cornells de Witt 
 had endured all the privations of the siege with a 
 courageous natural gaiety which surprised her friends. 
 
FEANCO-GEEMAN WAE. 343 
 
 She was often ill during the year 1871, and when 
 she returned to Paris for the opening of the schools, 
 her family were in sad anxiety about her. She con- 
 cealed all her own personal misgivings, and bravely 
 fulfilled her onerous task. Her father wrote to her 
 on the twenty-first of November in answer to a 
 request on her part : — 
 
 ' Certainly, my child ; I will give you my manu- 
 script on Washington. I left it in my desk in Paris, 
 where I happened to be when M. Gavard brought it 
 to me from London, and I will add to it my manu- 
 script on the Due de Broglie, which is here, and 
 which I will bring with me on the twentieth of 
 December. Of my three sons, your husband is, and 
 always will be, the politician ; he ought, therefore, 
 to possess my two portraits of the two great and 
 honest politicians who founded, with so much disin- 
 terestedness, the one a Republic, the other a Consti- 
 tutional Monarchy. It gave me a real pleasure to 
 write of them as I thought, and it will be an equal 
 pleasure to deposit what I wrote in good hands.' 
 
 M. Guizot went on writing without intermission. 
 After finishing his two great works, besides several 
 stray pieces, introductions and reflections which he 
 added to his collected writings, he wrote the lives of 
 St. Louis and of Calvin, the first two of the four 
 great French Christians, both Catholic and Protes- 
 tant, whom he was anxious to describe. At a later 
 date he intended to add to them the portraits of St. 
 Vincent de Paul and Duplessis-Momay. He sus- 
 pended, only while he wrote his notice on the Due 
 
344 MOKSIBUE GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 de Broglie, his new and important work on the His- 
 tory of France, founded upon the lessons with which 
 he for many years had delighted his grandchildren. 
 The war interrupted the publication of the book, 
 and likewise interfered with the author's progress, 
 for M. Gruizot was absorbed by patriotic anxieties, 
 and employed in trying to enlighten Europe on the 
 state of France, while he endeavoured to raise and 
 sustain the country itself. He resumed his task as 
 soon as quiet was in a measure restored, and his 
 first volume appeared towards the end of the year 
 1871. 
 
 M. Vitet undertook to introduce it to the readers 
 of the Revue des Deux Mondes. M. Guizot wrote to 
 him on the seventeenth of May, 1872 : — 
 
 ' My deae Feiend, — I am delighted that you 
 think as you say, and delighted that you said what 
 you thought. I hope that it is really true. It was, 
 indeed, in the first place for the instriiction of my 
 grandchildren, for their instruction through their 
 imagination, but not for them alone, that I began, 
 and, God willing, shall finish this important work. 
 I fancied that I might help to restore France in her 
 present ruins by setting before her a faithful picture 
 of the recoveries of former days in her long life. It 
 is only our faith in a resurrection which enables us 
 poor creatures to endure the idea of death. It ought 
 to be the same thing for nations. They are not 
 dead as long as they are and feel themselves to be 
 alive, they do not fall into decrepitude as long as 
 they do not yield to it, and can look back to former 
 
FEANCO-GERMAN WAE. 345 
 
 resurrections in their history. This has been my 
 second motive (after that of teaching my grandchil- 
 dren) for writing this book and taking a serious 
 interest in it. Thank you for having so well under- 
 stood and interpreted me. 
 
 ' I shall not talk to you of anything else this 
 morning. I am trying to get a few numbers of my 
 book ready before I have to attend to the Synod. 
 It is to be open on the sixth of Jtuie, and will, I 
 suppose, take up my time for the whole month. 
 God has done well in not permitting us to know 
 beforehand the limits to our powers, if we did we 
 should often not undertake what, after all, perhaps, 
 we may be able sometimes to carry through.' 
 
 M. Guizot always tried his powers to the utmost. 
 He at length, to his great satisfaction, succeeded in a 
 project at which he had long been working in the 
 service of the French Protestant Church. He wished 
 to re-establish the ancient traditional discipline, at 
 the same time free and well regulated, of the old 
 French Protestants. He himself prepared all the 
 papers and gave himself up to the work with a con- 
 stant enthusiasm which could not fail to exhaust 
 him. He wrote on the twenty-seventh of May, 1872, 
 to his second daughter : — 
 
 ' Your sister has told you that you would see me 
 arrive on Sunday second instead of on Monday the 
 third of June. There is to be a great conference of 
 the evangelical delegates at the Synod on Monday 
 at one o'clock ; they have asked me to attend, and I 
 wish to do so. I therefore hasten my departure by 
 
346 MONSIETJR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 one day. I hope that my little Pierre will be quite 
 well by that time. The fine weather has come back, 
 not yet warm enough, but fine and mild. I am told 
 that Rachel nursed her little brother admirably dur- 
 ing his illness — a good, loveable girl by the side of 
 a good, loveable boy. May God bless them both ; 
 I long to see them again ! ' 
 
 M. Guizot directed the opening labours of the 
 Synod ; but he could not continue the effort, and it 
 was from Val-Richer that he followed its final 
 deliberations with constant interest. ' God has be- 
 stowed great favours upon me,' he often said ; ' He 
 has permitted me to employ my activity, first in 
 literature, then in politics, and, finally, in the service 
 of religion. I hope to continue this last to the end 
 of my appointed course.' 
 
CHAPTEE XXIII. 
 
 1871-74. 
 
 DEATH OF HIS YOUNGER DAUGHTER HIS LAST ILLNESS 
 
 AND DEATH. 
 
 M. GuizoT was once more settled at Val-Eicher, 
 surrounded by tlie greater number of his children 
 and grandchildren ; he wrote on the twenty-first of 
 July, 1872, to his younger daughter: — 
 
 ' I delight in seeing your three little ones pass 
 backwards and forwards in front of my windows, 
 and in hearing their voices. rran§ois is the least talk- 
 ative and noisy, Eachel is restrained by her dig- 
 nity, but Suzanne chatters, screams, and jumps about 
 enough for all three ; she has succeeded in exciting 
 Dorothea,* who is shy and proud, and who does not 
 know a word of French. Suzanne knows only a few 
 English words, but she talks just as fluently as if it 
 were French to Dorothea, whom she understands, 
 and contrives to make understand. It is an amusing 
 little scene. I like to look at children, they rest me 
 from looking at men. You are coming on Wednes- 
 
 A little English friend who was staying at Val-Eicher. 
 
348 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 day ; I adjourn, therefore, this conversation. I find 
 letters so insufficient. Robert will find Figaro and 
 his white rabbits in excellent health, and very glad to 
 see him again. I mean Figaro, I do not know what 
 to think about the memory and sympathy of rabbits.' 
 
 Almost on the same day, M. Guizot wrote to M. 
 Vitet: — 'Pray write to me ; you know how devoted 
 is my friendship. There are very few left of our old 
 and excellent battalion.' 
 
 The one to whom he addressed these words was 
 soon to disappear from its ranks. 
 
 Fifteen years eai-lier, on the twenty-third of Feb- 
 ruary, 1858, M. Gruizot had written: — 
 
 ' Poor Madame Vitet died last night. I am dis- 
 tressed beyond measure. How lonely her unhappy 
 husband will be ! No children, an old mother, who 
 is perfectly deaf, and a sister who has a husband and 
 children of her own. What can friends do to solace 
 such grief? What can the cold, distant sympathy of 
 friends whom one sees only from time to time do to 
 replace such an intimate union 1 I know it by my 
 own experience ; and now, when I reflect upon all I 
 feel for Vitet at this moment, I am aghast at the 
 worthlessness and impotence of friendship. Our 
 only consolation is in Grod. We must cherish the 
 past in our inmost hearts, and look forward to our 
 future life.' 
 
 M. Vitet did this, and in his turn, on the sixth of 
 June, 1873, he obtained his eternal reward. M. 
 Guizot wrote to his second daughter, who had just 
 returned from spending the winter at Mentone, for 
 the sake of her health : — 
 
DEATH OF HIS YOUNGER DAUGHTER. 349 
 
 ' It is a real sorrow, and I know what sorrow is. 
 I have had friends of greater depth and learning 
 than he was, but not one more agreeable. He was 
 full of refinement and distinction in every respect, 
 in his ideas, his feelings, his_ habits, tastes, sympa- 
 thies and antipathies. Yet there was no pretension 
 in all this refinement ; it was a simple natural ele- 
 vation, and he was as faithful to his friends as to his 
 opinions. I try to thiok if he had a single fault, 
 and I can find none. Our friendship dates from 
 1819, when he first entered the Normal School and 
 a little into society. He was seventeen and I was 
 thirty-two. From that time there was neither a 
 gap nor a cloud. One of the last links is now 
 broken, and I have taken another step into mental 
 solitude. You know what I have left to me, and 
 that I cherish my treastu-es more than ever. May 
 Grod spare me as respects my children and grand- 
 children. It seems to me, that they are the only 
 vulnerable points I have left ; but who can tell in 
 what comer, in what inmost recess of the soul, he 
 may be wounded ? Farewell, my child ; is it not a 
 pity that every joy in life is Hable to become a grief? 
 I repeat to myself every day that we ought not to 
 let the trials winch God inflicts make us forget His 
 gifts. Good-bye, my child.' 
 
 ^ June 8th. 
 
 ' I am not naturally melancholy ; but the trials of 
 life are so many and so great that they have made 
 a deeply-seated melancholy habitual to me ; I return 
 to it naturally with every fresh cause. It only rather 
 
350 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 confuses me to make my recollections of happiness 
 agree with my instinctive sadness, my bursts of 
 gratitude with my habitual regret. Human life is 
 full of inconsistencies and contradictions. We must 
 learn to accept it as it is. 
 
 ' I have just received a long letter from Cuvillier 
 Fleury on the effect produced by Vitet's unexpected 
 death, and on the sympathy generally expressed 
 with him. It is right and proper. The country is 
 not wanting in good and honest servants, but its 
 rare and beautiful ornaments are passing away, and 
 I see no new ones arising. It is not enough for a 
 great country to be prosperous, it ought to be splen- 
 did. I intend to write a few pages on Vitet in the 
 Bevue des Deux Mondes. Although I am avaricious 
 of my time, I must consecrate two or three days to 
 his memory. My great work is going on well.' 
 
 The third volume of the History of France as told 
 to my Grandchildren, was nearly finished, when M. 
 Guizot, for the last time, interrupted his work to do 
 homage to the memory of a friend — a homage 
 which his friends shovxld have paid to him if death 
 had kept count of years. 
 
 It was now that the last severe blow came to 
 shatter all that remained of the powers which had 
 been so long and so admirably preserved. On her 
 return from Mentone, in April, 1873, Madame Cor- 
 nells de Witt was attacked by pleuris}^, which left 
 her weak and languid — more weak, indeed, than 
 languid. As soon as she was able to travel, she 
 went to Val-Richer, to enjoy the happiness she 
 
M. GUIZOT, AGED EIGHTY YEARS. 
 
DEATH OF HIS YOUNGER DAUGHTER. 351 
 
 always found in the bosom of her family — a re- 
 pose and well-being which did not fail her even 
 then. She was not, however, allowed to remain 
 there. The fourth of October always brought all 
 M. Guizot's children round him, and on the next 
 day Madame Cornelis de Witt set out for Paris, the 
 first stage on her journey to Cannes. She left with 
 a sad presentiment, which even her bravery could 
 not conceal. M. Giiizot followed her to Paris to see 
 her once more. After embracing him for the last 
 time, she quitted his study and looked neither to the 
 right nor to the left as she went downstairs on her 
 way to the carriage which was to take her to the 
 station ; she did not speak and scarcely appeared to 
 breathe, it seemed as if she had gathered up all her 
 energies in order to endure a trial which she felt 
 was too much for her strength. 
 
 The father and daughter did not see each other 
 again until they met in the life eternal. 
 
 On the seventeenth of October, M. Gruizot wrote 
 to her : — 
 
 'Your letters, my child, reached us yesterday, 
 one in the morning and another in the evening. I 
 need not tell you how much pleasure they gave us. 
 My affections kill my optimism: my long experi- 
 ence has inspired me with permanent anxiety. 
 Every absence, every journey, every known or 
 unknown chance of accidents, shakes my courage 
 to the very centre, although I do not show it. You 
 have, however, arrived, and are settled comfortably. 
 May Grod take you under his care, my child. We 
 
352 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PKIVATE LIFE. 
 
 are not there — I do not say, to take care of you 
 for this would be beyond our powers — but to look 
 at you and say to each other, "She is with us!" 
 Your husband left you yesterday, another cause for 
 sorrow and anxiety. You are, happily, very brave. 
 
 ' Your children are well. What a pity that sacri- 
 fice cannot give us security ! Our only resource is in 
 resignation to the unknown will of Grod. 
 
 ' His will in public affairs is hidden from us, and 
 my faith is sorely tried in that respect. It is said 
 that the Comte de Chambord's final decision will 
 arrive to-morrow. I do not believe in finality. It 
 is, however, what the country requires — to be set- 
 tled definitively for twenty years — we do not ask 
 for more.' 
 
 This separation was indeed a great sacrifice, for 
 M. Cornelis de Witt was retained at Versailles and 
 Paris by his legislative duties. He took a journey 
 of 500 leagues, as often as he possibly could, in 
 order to spend two or three days with his wife ; but 
 these flashes of joy were only just enough to enable 
 them to bear a separation which was becoming more 
 and more cruel every day, for she was growing 
 weaker and weaker. The children she was not able 
 to take with her to Cannes paid her frequent visits. 
 At length her eldest daughter settled herself there, 
 and her sister, who came only for a few days, re- 
 mained there to the last moment, which was nearer 
 at hand than had been foreseen by their most anxious 
 fears. The invalid's energy long preserved their 
 illusions, but at length she laid down her burden ; 
 
HIS LAST ILLNESS AND DEATH. 353 
 
 she no longer struggled or opposed any resistance 
 to the disease which took entire possession of her. 
 She accepted the will of God while confiding to Him 
 all whom she loved with the calm and simple trust 
 which had supported her through the trials of life 
 She expired on the twenty-eighth of February, 1874, 
 surrounded by all her family, and leaving an irrep- 
 arable void in more than one life. 
 
 M. Guizot had borne her absence with fortitude, 
 he now submitted humbly to her loss, but those who 
 loved him were not deceived as to the effect of grief 
 upon a heart which seemed every day to become 
 more tender. He looked forward to seeing her soon 
 again, this was the source of his strength and his 
 consolation, for he, too, felt that his physical powers 
 were waning. He continued to write, but slowly 
 and with difficulty — it was troublesome to him to 
 consult authorities. His remaining daughter had the 
 sad consolation of helping him in his task He 
 sometimes said, 'There must be one mind in two 
 bodies for us to work as we do.' 
 
 The rest, the garden and the flowers at Val- 
 Richer, were delightful to him. It was a fine 
 summer, and he spent many hours sitting in the 
 open air, well sheltered from sun and wind, his 
 books by his side, dictating or conversing, but his 
 appetite absolutely failed and he walked with diffi- 
 culty. His interest in politics was increased by the 
 appointment of his son-in-law, M. Comelis de Witt, 
 to be Under-Secretary of the Minister of the Interior. 
 Every visit from the childi-en who lived away from 
 
 23 
 
354 MONSIEUB GUIZOT IN PEIVATE LIFE. 
 
 him was a deeply-felt pleasure and an amusement to 
 him. They all anxiously treasured up every proof 
 of the love which they saw passing away as rapidly 
 as a stream runs through the fingers that try to hold 
 it fast. 
 
 M. Guizot had written the last lines of the fourth 
 volume of his history, when he yielded to his increas- 
 ing weakness and took to his bed, never to leave it 
 again. He had been glad to see M. and Madame 
 CuviUier Fleury, with whom he had long been inti- 
 mate. ' Welcome, friends,' he said to them, when 
 they arrived at Val-Richer, ' for you are real friends.' 
 They were the last who saw him out of bed. 
 
 He never lost his thoughtfulness for all whom he 
 loved He felt the hand of death, and already spoke 
 with difficulty when he said to his daughter (alluding 
 to his approaching dissolution), ' You will write your- 
 self to Madame MoUien.' This faithful friend with 
 whom he had been intimate for many years was, 
 although older than himself, destined to survive 
 him. 
 
 All his children were present, they had hastened 
 to come to him. Madame Graillard de Witt was there 
 also, with her eldest daughter, M. Guizot's godchild, 
 who afterwards married his grandson, Robert de Witt. 
 His physician, Dr. Behier, always faithful to the 
 memory of M. Guizot's darling son, watched with a 
 skill that was sharpened by his filial affection every 
 step of the downward progress against which he was 
 eagerly fighting. All was in vain, age and weariness 
 gained the day without any malady declaring itself 
 
HIS LAST ILLNESS AND BEATH. 355 
 
 or any organ being attacked. M. Guizot spoke little, 
 and seemed absorbed in bis reflections. He often 
 evoked tbe memory of those be bad lost, and, as time 
 disappeared in tbe presence of eternity, be spoke of 
 tbe son of wbom be bad been bereaved tbirty-seven 
 years previously in tbe same way as of the daughter 
 who bad preceded him to her eternal rest by only six 
 months. More than once when his children were all 
 collected roimd his bed in bis little room, he pro- 
 nounced the name of France — that dear country 
 whose disasters had struck the first fatal blow to his 
 robust old age. ' We must serve France, it is a difii- 
 cult country to serve — short-sighted and fickle — 
 but we must serve it well, it is a great country.' 
 Then, as if returning to the taste for poetry, which 
 bad been so strong in his youth, and which he had 
 never wholly lost, be would repeat in a low tone some 
 lines from Comeille, or Rousseau's Ode to Fortune, 
 searching and finding in his memory the words which 
 had so long been buried under the impressions of 
 years. He wanted to hear read some passages from 
 his History of France ; he desired one of his grand- 
 daughters, who was watching by him, to look in the 
 third volume for the portrait of Coligny, which he 
 wished to see again. His daughter was kneeling by 
 tbe side of the bed to which he had already been 
 confined for five or six days, forced against bis will to 
 accept all tbe little services which each one eagerly 
 offered — his tastes and wishes were still for indepen- 
 dence, although bis strength no longer permitted him 
 to follow them. Tbe look he gave his daughter was 
 
356 MONSIEUR GUIZOT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 
 
 almost enough to deceive lier as to their approaching 
 separation — it was still so penetrating and so tender 
 — ' Grood-bye, my child, good-bye ! ' he repeated. 
 The hearts of all present were sustained by one 
 hope. ' We shall meet again, my father,' she ex- 
 claimed. M. Gruizot, whose weakness had been so 
 great a few moments before, raised himself on his 
 pillows, his eyes shone brightly, and his voice seemed 
 to have regained its strength as he replied, ' No one 
 is more convinced of that than I am ! ' His accent 
 still echoes in the hearts of those who heard him. 
 His words became fewer and fewer. 
 
 One after the other, and at long intervals, M. 
 Guizot had added new codicils to his will in affec- 
 tionate remembrance of many whom he might have 
 forgotten ; he had ordered his funeral, forbidding all 
 invitations and speeches. ' God alone should speak 
 by the side of the grave,' he said. 
 
 Presently the silence of death set in. He had not 
 opened his eyes or spoken for many hours, his son 
 and daughters were at his side, when suddenly the 
 dying eyes opened more beautiful, more piercing than 
 ever, with a far-off glance of strange clearness as if 
 they already perceived the beloved beings who were 
 waiting on the opposite shore. While his children 
 were watching this glance his soul had already 
 entered into eternity. 
 
 A few days previously, as M. Guizot was sitting 
 in his armchair by the side of his desk, overpowered 
 by mortal weakness, he said to his daughter, ' Ah, 
 my child, how little do we know ! ' Then, suddenly 
 
HIS LAST ILLNESS AND DEATH. 357 
 
 lifting up his hands, ' However, I shall soon enter 
 into the light ! ' 
 
 He had now entered into the light. The per- 
 fection to which he had so long aspired at length 
 was his. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Aberdeen, Lord, 238; his ministry fell 
 through, 239 ; faints at hearing report 
 of Guizot's arrest, 240; Guizot visits 
 him, 309 ; his kind attentions, 312 ; num- 
 ber of his farmers and servants some 
 thousands, 313; death, 314; Guizot's 
 high opinion of, 314; one of Guizot's 
 dearest friends, 333. 
 
 Academy, Committee of the, 303. 
 
 Action a greater pleasure than conver- 
 sation, 33. 
 
 Action, necessity for, 141; the mission 
 of Guizot, 209. 
 
 Active life the best regimen to preserve 
 the balance of our minds, 59. 
 
 Adam and Eve should not have been 
 entirely separated, 69. 
 
 Affection, value of, 33. 
 
 Affections increase with age, 244; the 
 true source of happiness, 245; real 
 happiness in true affection does not 
 consist in words, 262. 
 
 Alexandria, good news from, 233. 
 
 Ambition one of the best of youthful 
 passions, 288. 
 
 Amnesty, Act of, 265. 
 
 Anxiety, an incurable, about those dear 
 to him, 267. 
 
 Aquitaine , bibliography of, 105. 
 
 Argyll, Duke of, the last Scottish laird 
 who could muster 3000 or 4000 men, 
 313. 
 
 Aristocracy, a natural, in the human race, 
 64. 
 
 Ascot races, Guizot wins the sweepstakes 
 at the, 217. 
 
 Assignats diminished the resources of 
 France, 9. 
 
 Audiences at his first lectures, how com- 
 posed, 72 ; intellectual elasticity in, 73. 
 
 Auditories, the, at Geneva, 8. 
 
 Aunts of M. Guizot died young, 7. 
 
 Austin, Mrs., letter to, 265. 
 
 Auteserve's, Serum Aquitanicarum lilm 
 decern, 106. 
 
 Azyr, Ticq d', family phj'sician of Made- 
 moiselle de Meulan, 35. 
 
 B. 
 
 Barante, M. de, removed from the Con- 
 seil d'Etat, 55; Guizot's letter to, on 
 the death of Madame Guizot, 88; Ifis- 
 tory of the Duhes of Burgundy, 105 ; 
 Guizot's letter to, Sept. 21, 1829, onPo- 
 lignac's ministry, 106; his Parlemmt 
 de Paris, 108; paper on history of 
 France, 144; Guizot's letter to, 233; 
 never destroyed any of Guizot's letters, 
 235 ; letter of Guizot to, from London, 
 252; one of Guizot's intimate conver- 
 sational letters to, 326 ; pleased with 
 Guizot's Meditations, 329 ; death, 330 ; 
 Guizot's notice of, 331. 
 
 Barb^-Marbois, M. de. Minister of Justice, 
 53. 
 
 Barnet, M. de, legacy from, to Mile, de 
 Meulan, 40. 
 
 Basques, the, a remnant of the Iberians, 
 106. 
 
 Bel-Air, M. Guizot a guest at, 20. 
 
 Berry, Duo de, assassmation of, 55. 
 
 Berryer, M. de, 110; favors legal meas- 
 ures, 120. 
 
 Bertin, Armand, death of, 296. 
 
 " Biblioth^ue Eoyale," the place of con- 
 cealment of the Guizot family during 
 the days of violence, 252. 
 
 Bismarck, Count, Guizot's opinion of, 
 327 ; has neither good sense nor hon- 
 esty, but character, 327'. 
 
 Blacas, M. de, offensive to the public, 53. 
 
 Black Sea, the, dangerous in January, 294. 
 
 Boccaccio and Thucydides did notexag- 
 gerate the plague, 135. 
 
 Boileau, Sir John, Guizot's visits to, 308. 
 
 Bois-Milet, Guizot leaves, for Paris, 70 ; 
 desire to return to, 78. 
 
 Bonaparte and the monarch)', 51. 
 
 Bonicel, M. (Guizot's grandfather), 
 death of, 80. 
 
 Bonicel, Sophie-Elisabeth (Madame 
 Guizot), character, 1; marriage to 
 Andr^-Franijois Guizot, 2. 
 
 Bossuet's sermon on the immortality of 
 the soul, 88. 
 
 BoufBers, M. de, 29. 
 
360 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Bourdonnave, M. de la, his reply, 106. 
 
 Boyer,M., 'Madame Guizot's surgeon, 87. 
 
 Brave people often wanting in prudence, 
 188. 
 
 British Museum, visit to, 309. 
 
 Broglie, peaceful days at, 124 ; M. Goizot 
 returns to, 127. 
 
 Broglie, Duo de, retires from the Council, 
 124; loses a daughter by the cholera, 
 131 ; declines to enter a cabinet with- 
 out M. Guizot, 142, Minister of Foreign 
 Affairs, 142 ; death, 332 , Guizot's 
 friendship for, 332. 
 
 Broglie, Duchesse de, death of, 183. 
 
 c. 
 
 Cabinet of May 20th resigns, 228. 
 Calvin, permanence of institutions 
 
 founded by, 8. 
 Cambronne, General, dines with King of 
 
 Kngland, 66 ; his single remark on that 
 
 occasion, 67. 
 Camille, Guizot declaiming the impre- 
 cations of, 9. 
 Capital Punishment for Political Offences, 
 
 Volume on, 70. 
 Capital punishment, crowd demanding 
 
 abolition of, 190. 
 Carrier pigeons at Epsom races, 203. 
 Catholics, flight of, from England, 213. 
 Cavour, M. de, will dethrone the King of 
 
 Naples, 320; and keep quiet in Italy, 
 
 321. 
 Celtic derivations for words in daily use 
 
 doubtful, 109. 
 Censorship of academical speeches, 280. 
 Chabaud, Ernest de, 185. 
 Chabrol, M. de, hopes for a majority, 108. 
 Chamber, prorogation and dissolution of 
 
 the. 111. 
 Chambre introuvable, 54. 
 Champfort, M. de, 36. 
 Chapelle d'Ayton, La, published by 
 
 Mademoiselle de Meulan, 39. 
 Charles X., hesitations and resolutions, 
 
 120; the three Ordonnances, 121; fell 
 
 for want of judgment, 133. 
 Charter set aside, 121. 
 Chartists' meeting at Kennington, 253. 
 Chateaubriand, M. de, resignation of, 
 
 expected, 107; speech of, suppressed, 
 
 280. 
 Childhood of M. Guizot, 1. 
 Children enabled to control themselves, 
 
 85; need the open air, 201; should 
 
 have perfect freedom at play, 202; 
 
 "My children have been the charm of 
 
 my "old age," 291 ; Guizot's continued 
 
 fondness for, 347. 
 Child's heart and mind, treasures in a, 
 
 84. 
 Cholera in Paris, 128; in Normandy, 
 
 131 ; at Bordeaux, 135. 
 Christ, divine character of, 17. 
 Christian Jnnarance, Meditation on, the 
 
 most origmal, 325. 
 
 Christianitj', M. Guizot's belief in, 16, 
 20; attempts to scientifically explain 
 the supernatural events in, vain and 
 false, 325. 
 
 Classical studies, the advantages of, and 
 changes necessary in, 137. 
 
 Colettis, General, imprisoned in the gar- 
 den, 231. 
 
 Coligny, Guizot calls for his picture 
 during his last hours, 355 
 
 Coll^, private secretary of M. de Meulan, 
 35. 
 
 College life intellectually excellent, 137. 
 
 Colmar, 70. 
 
 Compi^gne, M. Guizot's visit to, 184. 
 
 Compliment and abuse, 265. 
 
 Condorcet, M. de, 36. 
 
 Condorcet, Madame de, lends M. Guizot 
 a house, 55. 
 
 Conseil d'Etat, 54. 
 
 Conspiracies, people disgusted with, 70. 
 
 Conspiracies and Political Justice, pam- 
 phlet on, 69. 
 
 Constant, M. Benj., dull and exaggerated 
 in his book on religion, 102. 
 
 Constituante, remnant of the old society 
 of the, 28. 
 
 Constituent Assembly, the, wronged by 
 Montalembert, 282. 
 
 Contractj meaning of the word, 108. 
 
 Contradictions published by Mademoi- 
 selle de Meulan, 39. 
 
 Contradictions, the infinite, in our nature 
 proofs of immortalitj-, 306. 
 
 Convention, meaning of the word, 108. 
 
 Conversation in the salons, 30-32; is a 
 great pleasure, 33. 
 
 Corbiferes on the acquittal of prisoners, 
 70. 
 
 Comet, Senator, "that old humbug," 
 
 Coterie, the spirit of, opposed to good 
 government, 167. 
 
 Country, a great, ought to be both pros- 
 perous and splendid, 350. 
 
 Coup d'etat of Dec. 2, 1851, 280. 
 
 Coups d'etat imminent, 120. 
 
 Cousin, M., permitted to resume his 
 lectures, 93. 
 
 Crisis between France and England, 226. 
 
 Cromwell would have overthrown the 
 French Republic, 275. 
 
 Cromwell, paper on, read to the Academy 
 by Guizot, 295; Guizot's interest in, 
 295. 
 
 Crystal Palace at Sydenham, 298. 
 
 Cuvier, M., death of, by the cholera, 130. 
 
 D. 
 
 Daunant, M. Achille de, fellow-student 
 and friend of M. Guizot, 12. 
 
 Death — we forget how near he is, 296. 
 
 Deaths, we pass our lives between ex- 
 pected and unexpected, 326. 
 
 Decazes, M., and the Ultras, 54; fall of 
 his Ministry, 55. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 361 
 
 Degradation of man, strongest proof of 
 the, 17. 
 
 Delessert, M., Prefect of Police, 171. 
 
 Ddsert, meaning in tlie language of 
 the Port-Koyalists, 1. 
 
 Destiny, our, consists of two parts, 287. 
 
 Dictionary of Synonyms begun, 24. 
 
 Diderot, 27. 
 
 Dillon, Mile. Elisa, with Madame Guizot, 
 60 ; left in care of a sister and brother, 
 comes to live in Paris, 81 ; her pleasure 
 in writing, 81; goes to Plombieres, 
 88; favorite niece of Madame Guizot, 
 95 ; return to Paris, 95 ; her rare cul- 
 ture, intelligence, and energy, 97 ; 
 ideas of marriage, 98; devotion" to her 
 father, 99 ; happiness in her marriage 
 to M. Guizot, 100. 
 
 Dillon, M. Jacques, 40. 
 
 Dillon, Pauline, visits her aunt, Madame 
 Guizot, 60; letters to, from her sister, 
 88, 111, 124, 145 ; marries M. D(5court, 
 128 ; birth of a son and death, 152. 
 
 Dinner at the Lord Maj'or's, 198. 
 
 Dinner-parties in London, 198. 
 
 Dinners, "second campaign" of, not 
 pleasant to Guizot, 285. 
 
 Dino, Duchess de, 33. 
 
 Disorder, political and intellectual, 143. 
 
 Dittany, M. Guizot's favorite Hower, 205. 
 
 Divine intervention, Guizot's conviction 
 of the, 115. 
 
 Doctrinaires, their influence, 55. 
 
 Doctrine Chr^tienne, 55. 
 
 Droit, meaning of the, 69. 
 
 Dubois, the surgeon, 57. 
 
 Duchatel, M., head of a cabinet, 186. 
 
 Du Marca, Bistory of Beam, 105. 
 
 Dumon, M., Guizot's letter to, on Aqui- 
 taine, 104; success at the Tuileries, 
 315. 
 
 E. 
 
 Eastern question and its complications, 
 193, 222; what lias France to do with 
 it, 294. 
 
 Edinburgh, Guizot at, 310; peculiar as 
 it is beautiful, and as beautiful as it 
 is peculiar, 312. 
 
 Education of M. Guizot's sons, 10 ; few 
 resources for, in France, 8; value of 
 Madame Guizot's Family Letters on, 
 84; consists in enabling children to 
 control themselves by means of their 
 own free will, 85 ; supplies strength 
 for the good, and happiness for the 
 evil days, 268; Law of Public, 285. 
 
 Electors, Ignorance of, 127; frightened, 265. 
 
 Emperor, M. Guizot refuses to extol the, 
 46. 
 
 Empires have no critical days or years, 
 66. 
 
 Energetic people often wanting in gentle- 
 ness, 188. 
 
 English nation, qualities of the, 220. 
 
 Epsom races, 203. 
 
 Essay on the Bislory and Present Condi- 
 titm of Public Education in France, 
 54. 
 
 Essays on the History of France in the 
 Fifth Century, 83. 
 
 En, Keception at, 235. 
 
 F. 
 
 Faith in men, 63; in the future of 
 France, 266 ; the acknowledgment of 
 the truth without seeking to explain 
 it, 325. 
 
 Family Letters on Education begun by 
 Madame Guizot, 83. 
 
 Family rejoicings followed by patriotic 
 anxieties, 335; union the source of 
 happiness and strength, 291. 
 
 Favours, greatest of all, the knowing and 
 possessing more than one of God's 
 noblest creatures, 335. 
 
 Feelings, deep, never effaced, 279 ; oppo- 
 site feelings dwelling together in the 
 heart, 305. 
 
 Flowers, Guizot's fondness for, 205. 
 
 Fontainebleau, M. Guizot at, 185. 
 
 Fontanes, M. de, creates chair of Modern 
 History for M. Guizot, 46. 
 
 France, love for, 223; "always" called 
 to a lofty destiny, 234 ; proves she is 
 still alive, 263 ; disasters brought upon, 
 by personal rule, 334; is a soldier, 
 837 ; in an acute crisis, 338 ; effort 
 to restore her by Guizot, 344; dear 
 to hira in his last hours, 355. 
 
 Franco-Prussian war, outbreak of, 336; 
 lamentable termination, 342. 
 
 Free government, foundation of, 266. 
 
 French, the, like parade not barracks, 
 337. 
 
 French civilization, development of, 72. 
 
 French Protestant Church, effort to re- 
 establish ancient discipline in, 345. 
 
 French Protestants, 2. 
 
 French society, the old, 71; efforts to 
 emerge from chaos, 72. 
 
 Friends, death of, wearisome, iii. 
 
 Friends in England, 265. 
 
 Friends in Misfortune, essay by Made- 
 moiselle de Jleulan, 37. 
 
 Friendship, infinite reserves in the 
 closest, 131. 
 
 Funds, question of conversion of the, 
 decides the fall of the Ministry, 162. 
 
 Fusion, the, talked about, 293. 
 
 Future, we must learn to live in the, 
 155 ; wisely clouded from us, 157. 
 
 G. 
 
 Gaelic derivations for words in daily 
 
 use doubtful, 109. 
 Gallois, M., 29. 
 Gauche, meaning of the, 69. 
 Gazza Ladra, M. Guizot visits, 67. 
 Gemahl — a marriage contract, 109. 
 
362 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Geneva, Madame Guizot at, 8. 
 
 Geneva, Lake of, excursions round the, 
 10. 
 
 Geraniums in England, 205. 
 
 Ghent, M. Guizot at, 49. 
 
 Gibbon, M. Guizot prepares notes to, 
 23. 
 
 Giech, Countess von, daughter of Baron 
 Steiu, 272. 
 
 God governs the universe, 18. 
 
 God's help needed by man, 212. 
 
 Good foitune is hazardous, delicate, 
 fi'agile, 94. 
 
 Gospel, the, distorted and belied bv the 
 Catholic Church and the Protestants, 
 282. 
 
 Gossip, none worse than that relating to 
 politics, 76. 
 
 Government, the, and the Opposition, 
 113. 
 
 Government of France since the Eestora- 
 tion, and the Present Ministrj', 55. 
 
 Grandchildren, Guizot's interest in his, 
 293; he writes fondly of their life and 
 talk, 302; wins their confidence, 306; 
 multiply around him, 334. 
 
 Grand-daugiiters, Guizot's delight at 
 bii-th of, 276. 
 
 Grave, God alone should speak by the 
 side of the, 356. 
 
 Greece and Rome the good society of 
 the human mind, 137- 
 
 Greffory of Tours, Madame Guizot's 
 translation of, 83. 
 
 Grief, permanency of, 279. 
 
 Guizard, M. de and the Revue Dra- 
 matique, 119. 
 
 Guizot, Andr^-Fran^ois, man-iage, 2; 
 ari'est and death, 3; last letter to his 
 wife, 4. 
 
 Guizot, Fran9ois, his birth expected, 49 ; 
 in the country with his mother, 50 ; her 
 estimate of liim, 59 ; character of, 91 ; 
 behavior to his step-mother Elisa, 99 ; 
 successful in his examinations, 110; 
 obtains a nomination and leaves col- 
 lege, 136 ; gives up his vacation, 140 ; 
 growing into manhood, 159 ; twent)'- 
 first birthday, 165; fine tact and 
 upright judgment, 169 ; catches cold, 
 pleurisy and death, 175; his father's 
 aiiection for him, 225, 267. 
 
 Guizot, Fran^ois-Pierre-Guillaume, birth 
 of, 1; never legally registered, 2; 
 farewell to his father, 4; his education, 
 10 ; a skilful joiner, 10 ; absorption 
 in his work, 11; awakened to sense 
 of bis powers, 11 ; begins law studies 
 at Pans, 12; taste for literature and 
 politics, 12, 21; melancholy tempera- 
 ment and determined will, 12; religious 
 opinions, 13; obstinacy, 13; inflexi- 
 bility of his early vouth, 15 ; faith in 
 Christ, 16, 17; d'ecfaration of religious 
 belief in bis will, 18; literary and 
 social occupations, 20; translates 
 Trnvds in (Sjoft-m, 23; consoles his 
 mother, 25 ; sphere of life widens, 26 ; 
 
 tour in Languedoc, 41; engagement 
 with Mile, de Meulan, 41; corre- 
 spondence with same, 42; her advice 
 to him, 42; marriage, 41, 46; Pro- 
 fessor of Literature, 46; of Modern 
 History, 46 ; complete freedom in 
 work, 47; enters political life, 48; at 
 Ghent, 49; Secretaire Gc^n^ral, 53; 
 Maitre des Eequetes, 54;- Conseiller 
 d'Etat, 54; removed from office, 55, 
 literary occupations, 61 ; under the 
 banner of the Opposition, 69 ; correct- 
 ing proofs, 70 ; studying for lectures, 
 71; a Liberal and anti-revolutionary, 
 73; renounces all party contentions, 
 75; fond of human nature, 79; do- 
 mestic happiness, 80; began to pub- 
 lish his Memoirs of Ancient Eistory 
 of France, 83 ; prepares Essays on the 
 History of France m the Fifth Cen- 
 tury, 83 ; careful preparation of ma- 
 terials for History of the Enylish 
 Jitvolution, 83; letter to M. de Barante 
 on the death of Madame Guizot, 88; 
 his grief and its remedy, 90; neces- 
 sity for work, 91; opinion of his son, 
 91; publishes two volumes <ii History 
 of the English Revolution, 92; edits 
 the Reime Frangaise, 92 ; made Con- 
 seiller d'Etat, and resumes his lectures 
 after seven years' interruption, 93; 
 cherishes memories of the past, 96 ; 
 marries Mile. £lisa Dillon, 100 ; study- 
 ing, writing, and observing the state 
 of public mind under the ministrv of 
 M- de Polignac, 103; letter to" M. 
 de Barante on politics and philology, 
 108; elected to the Chamber by the 
 aTtcndissements oi Pont I'Eveque and 
 Lisieux, 110 ; maiden speech, 110 ; goes 
 to Nimes ; 111 ; letter to wife on poli- 
 tics, 113 ; his faith in Providence, 115 ; 
 return to Paris, 121; Ministers de 
 V J nterieur, 123; retires from the Coun- 
 cil, 124 ; sees the sea for the first time 
 at Honfleur, 125 ; its effect, 126 ; again 
 in Paris, 127 ; attacked by the cholera, 
 129 ; recovers working power, 132 ; on 
 the riots of June, 1832, 132; doctri- 
 naire, 134; distrusts Michelet's his- 
 torical method, 140 ; Minister of Public 
 Education, 143; arduous duties, 146; 
 grief at his wife's death, 148; letters 
 to Madame Di^court, 147, 150; letter to 
 Madame de Broglie, 153; ardently en- 
 gaged in political contests, 159; takes 
 his son to Normandy, 160 ; opinion of 
 political calumnies, 161 ; out of the Cabi- 
 net, 162 ; distributes prizes at College 
 of Lisieux, 165 ; on forming a ministry, 
 167; again takes the portfolio of Pud- 
 lic Instruction, 169 ; opp"sition in the 
 Chambers, 176; resigns from Cabinet 
 again, 176 ; love for his son Franfois, 
 178; joins the Left, 181; three days 
 at Fontainebleau, 183 ; his opinion of 
 the Duchess of Orleans, 184; letters 
 to Henriette on punctuation, 187 ; in- 
 
INDEX. 
 
 363 
 
 terest in his children, 191; ambas- 
 sador to Court of St. James, 193; 
 letter to his mother on the care of 
 his children, 194; speech in English at 
 the Lord Mayor's dinner, 200; inter- 
 est in Val- Richer, 201; dinner to Due 
 and Duchesse de Nemours, 205 ; letter 
 to Aline, 206 ; letter to his mother, 209 ; 
 his children's love for him, 211 ; let- 
 ter to Henriette, 212; life in Eng- 
 land, 213; letter to Pauline, 216; 
 opens the Queen's chamber door at 
 Windsor, 218; touched bj' the af- 
 fection of the English people, 221; 
 visits his mother and children at Trou- 
 ville, 223; return to France, 224; wants 
 nothing in London or Paris, 227 ; en- 
 trusted to form a cabinet, 228; ac- 
 cepts the Foreign Office, 229; result 
 of ministerial efforts, 233; letter to 
 children from Chateau d'Eu, 236; 
 others, 241, 244; life lonely, 244; im- 
 peached and exiled, 249 ; escape and 
 arrival in London, 250 ; takes a house 
 at Brompton, 253; returns to literary 
 work, 254; on his mother's death, 257 ; 
 sad thoughts, calm fortitude, and 
 unconquerable optimism, 261; devo- 
 tion to his country, 262 ; announces 
 himself publicly as a Liberal Conserva- 
 tive, 264 ; return from exile, 265 ; mar- 
 ries his daughters to his satisfaction, 
 269; orders his children to wear mourn- 
 ing for the King, 273 ; letter on poli- 
 tics, 277 ; order of daily life, 278 ; gave 
 up public life after the coup-d'etat, 
 284 ; anxiety for his daughters, 289 ; 
 dines at the Rothschilds', 292; seldom 
 leaves home, 297; visits England in 
 August, 1855, 298 ; in Paris during the 
 winter, 299; visits England with his 
 son, 308; interest in his son's mar- 
 riage, 316; return to native town to 
 son's wedding, 316; his Paris house 
 demolished, 317; in 1864 writing 
 seventh volume of Memoirs, 327; in 
 these speaks of nothing but himself, 
 329; his optimism fails him, 336 ; falls 
 ill, 337 ; will-power restores him to 
 health, 338 ; letters to English friends, 
 341; keeps on writing, 343; attends 
 the Synod at Paris, 345; again at Val- 
 Richer, 347 ; assisted by eldest daugh- 
 ter, 353; finished the fourth volume 
 of his History, and takes to his bed, 
 354; age and weariness overcome him, 
 354; his last hours, "355; death, 356; 
 no speeches at his funeral, 356. 
 Guizot, Guillaume, birth of, 146 ; infancy, 
 151; a sweet and gentle child, 155; let- 
 ters from father to, 203, 218 ; takes a 
 book to bed to read in morning, 231 ; 
 writes a Greek essay, 247; studies with 
 his father, 259 ; again at college, 268 ; 
 interested in new studies, 277; gains 
 half the prize for essay on " Menan- 
 der," 291 ». ; translation of Hamlet, and 
 notes, pronounced excellent by his 
 
 father, 316; engagement and marriage 
 to Gabrielie de Flaux, 310; he re- 
 mains in Paris during the siege. 339 ; 
 his wife at Val-Richer, 339. 
 
 Guizot, Henriette, birth of,, 110 ; educa^ 
 tion, 117; enjoys life in the country, 
 125; eight years old when Francois 
 died, 176 ; her father criticises the lack 
 of punctuation in her letters, 187 ; dis- 
 appointment at not going to England, 
 197; books for her to read, 202, 221; 
 her character resembles her motlier's, 
 223 ; father urges her to love France, 
 223; father's blessing on, 270. 
 
 Guizot, Madame (mother of M. Guizot), 
 death of, 4; sorrow for her husband, 5; 
 birthday letter to her son, 5; author- 
 ity over her children, 7 ; devotion of, 
 7; power of command, 8; her small 
 fortune, 9; society and music painful 
 to her, 10; return to Nlmes, 11: grief 
 for her husband, 25 ; with her parents, 
 61; lived three lives, 119; assumes the 
 education of her grandchildren at their 
 mother's death, 158; at Val-Richer 
 with the children, 187; enjoys living 
 there. 210; taste for information and 
 scientific reading, 211 ; with the chil- 
 dren at Trouville, 220; her son's affec- 
 tion for her, 224; again in Paris, 229; 
 obliged to remain in Paris, 251; her 
 strength of will, 252; death at Bromp- 
 ton, 256; her moral courage and ten- 
 derness inexhaustible, 256; buried 
 at Kensal Green, 259; inscription on 
 tombstone, 260. 
 
 Guizot, Madame Elisa (Dillon), true 
 happiness of, 100; religious views, 
 100; assists her husband in literary 
 work, 103; birth of daughter, 110; first 
 separation from her husband, 11 1 ; 
 article on Uhland's poetry, 112 ; His- 
 tory of France for Children, ,112; 
 letter to husbandf, 117 ; plans to read 
 and review Fleury's and Neander's 
 Church Histories, 118; corrects first 
 proofs of Une Famille, 118; dislikes 
 the noise of political life, 124; birth 
 of second daughter, 128 ; works for 
 the cholera-stricken poor, 128; gives 
 birth to a son, 146; delirium and 
 death, 147. 
 
 Guizot, Madame Pauline (M. Guizot's 
 first wife), her marriage, 41 ; at Nimes, 
 48; lost her first child, 49; expecting 
 her second, 49 ; in the country with 
 her son Francois, 56; letter to her hus- 
 band. 58 ; her health affected, 60 ; re- 
 vises Letouneur's translation of Shake- 
 speare, 61; her novel L'Scolier, 61; 
 
 - left in country near Montargis, 61; 
 letters to her husband, 62; publica- 
 tion of her novel, 66; her watchful- 
 ness, 69; writes another volume of 
 stories, '75; planning works on the 
 Ancient Histcjry of France and the 
 Revolution in England. 75: anxious 
 for the future, 76; her translation of 
 
364 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Gregory of Tours a masterpiece, 83; 
 edited Memoirs relating to tlie Historj- 
 of tlie Englisli Revolution, 8u ; pub- 
 lislied New Tnles, 83; began Familij 
 Letters on Education^ 33; published in 
 1820, 85 ; seriously ill, 86 ; affection for 
 her husband, 87; removed to Plom- 
 bieres, 88 ; return to Paris, 88; death, 
 88; one of the noblest beings, 90; 
 ■wish for her husband's happiness, 95. 
 
 Guizot, Pauline (second daughter), ill, 
 194; her portrait received by her 
 father in London, 197; letter from 
 father, 232: life full of happiness, 
 232; taking refuge in London, 248; 
 her story of the exile, 250; marries 
 Cornells De Witt, 269; weak and out 
 of health after birth of her second 
 child, 292; improving, 300; travelliiig 
 in Brittany, 301 ; " my heart has not 
 been at ease for five months," 342; 
 often ill during 1871, 343; attacked by 
 pleurisy, 350; death, 353. 
 
 Gymnasimn (the) at Geneva, 8. 
 
 H. 
 
 Haddo, Guizot spends a fortnight at, 
 
 312; description of the park at, 313. 
 Happiness, Guizot's lost, 266. 
 Happiness itself would be suffering if it 
 
 were only a pastime, 82 ; nothing at all 
 
 like it, 181. 
 Hat and table turning at Rothschild's, 
 
 292. 
 Heath family a favorite flower with 
 
 Guizot, 205. 
 Henin, Princesse de, the salon of, 28. 
 Herhet, M. Guizot at grave of, iii. 
 History, how to read, 221. 
 History, long alternately a comedy and 
 
 a tragedy, becoming a melodrama, 
 
 320. 
 ^^ History of Cidlizaiion in France,'^ 
 
 material needed for. 255. 
 "History of France as told to my Chil- 
 dren," begun at Val-Richer in 1839, 
 
 255; first volume published, 344; third 
 
 volume nearly finished, 350. 
 History of the Origin of Representative 
 
 Government, lectures on, 71. 
 ^^ History of the English Revolution" 
 
 materials for, carefully prepared, 83; 
 
 resumed work on in London, 254; 
 
 work on, at Val-Richer, 269; last 
 
 volume finished, 295. 
 Home life at Val-liicher full of delights. 
 
 319. 
 Homme de lettres et p^re de famille, vi. 
 Honfleur, M. Guizot at. by the sea, 124. 
 Honor, I set value on being remembered 
 
 with, 337. 
 Houdetot, IVTadame, the salon of, 26 ; her 
 
 dinners, 29; as a listener, 30. 
 House of Commons, 213. 
 Human lite full of inconsistencies and 
 
 contradictions, 360. 
 
 Humboldt's work on the Basques, 106. 
 Hume's History of England to be read 
 
 in connection with Lingard's, 221. 
 Hundred Days, the, 49. 
 
 Ills, we sicken of, which can be cured, 66; 
 those we now endure must not make 
 us forget those from which we have 
 been delivered, 283. 
 
 Imagination of man falls far short of the 
 reality, 136. 
 
 Impartial judgment of contemporary 
 events easy to Guizot, 284. 
 
 Impartiality of Guizot shocks his friends, 
 284. 
 
 Imperial government, attempt to liberal- 
 ise, 334. 
 
 Im pulses, first, not always to be followed, 
 216. 
 
 Indecision and impotence the character- 
 istics of the men of the present day, 
 326. 
 
 Infancy, mystery of the destiny of those 
 who"die in, 276. 
 
 Infinity — infinite happiness — infinite 
 love, 154. 
 
 Insr.rrection, revolutionary, of July, 
 1830, 121. 
 
 Ireland, interest in, 213. 
 
 Irish elections, debate on, in House of 
 Commons, 213. 
 
 Jacobins, Reign of Terror in hands of, 3. 
 
 Jardin de I'^toile, 164. 
 
 Jordan, Camilie, removed from the Con- 
 seil d'Etat, 55. 
 
 Joys and sorrows blended permanently, 
 279. 
 
 Justice, if tardy, only the more conspic- 
 uous, 281. 
 
 K. 
 
 Kings, divine right of. 71. 
 Kotzebue's Ancient History of Prussia, 
 articles on, 24. 
 
 Labbey, M., Guizot's esteem for, 208. 
 
 La Chatre, M. de, on white uniforms, 66. 
 
 Lafitte, President of the Council, 124. 
 
 I.aine, M., and the electoral law, 54. 
 
 Lamilliere, M. de, 36; life saved, 38. 
 
 Languedoc, History of, by the Benedic- 
 tines, 10.5. 
 
 Latour, Mile. Rosine de Chabaud, 159. 
 
 Laws of society, action of on the lower 
 classes, 68. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 365 
 
 Le Breton, M., 24. 
 
 Lectures, first course closed by the Cabi- 
 net in October, 1822, 75 ; resumed after 
 seven years' interruption, 83; on Civil- 
 ization in France and in Europe, 94. 
 
 Left, Left-Centre, and Extreme Left, 69 n. 
 
 Legrand, M., resignation of, 207. 
 
 Le Long, P^re, Mibliotheque Historique 
 de la France, 105. 
 
 Lenormant, M. and Madame, Guizot's 
 aifection for them, 249 ; Lenormant 
 offers literary assistance, 254; Guizot's 
 letter to Madame, 257. 
 
 Letters a pleasure even when they con- 
 tain onlj' sad tidings, 340. 
 
 Liberty is the power of choosing the 
 right, 212. 
 
 Lieven, Princess, death of, a heavy sor- 
 row to Guizot, 302 ; her character, 303. 
 
 Life full of contrasts, of good and evil, 
 216. 
 
 Life, a, of complete independence but 
 actively employed, Guizot's choice, 
 289. 
 
 Light, amount of in the South, 288. 
 
 "Light, I shall soon enter into the," 
 357. 
 
 Lingard's Histm^y of England to be read 
 in connection with Hume's, 221. 
 
 Literature, M. Guizot's preference for, 
 12, 21. 
 
 Literature only a pale reflection of life, 
 135. 
 
 Louis-Philippe, accession of, 123; won 
 his crown on the 6th of June, 1832, 133 ; 
 forms the Ministry of October 11, 142; 
 opposes Thiers's policy, 169 ; death 26 
 August, 272; Guizot's opinion of his 
 government, 273 ; on anniversarj- of his 
 death Guizot visits England, 298. 
 
 Louis XVIII., M. Guizot's mission to, 
 49; returned to France, 53, dissolves 
 the Chamber, 54. 
 
 Love will abide forever, 81; true love 
 very uncommon, 180 ; alwavs greater 
 than its object has an idea of, 226. 
 
 "Loving Cup," the, 199. 
 
 Loyalty to government in England, 253. 
 
 M. 
 
 Macaulay, Hallam, Aberdeen, three men 
 
 of rare merit, 314. 
 Mahl, derivation of the word, 109. 
 Mahlzeit, meal-time, 109. 
 Malesherbes, M. de, 2. 
 Mallum, mahl, meaning of this ancient 
 
 German word, 108. 
 Man if stationary becomes dull, 78. 
 Manner of M. Guizot towards visitors, v. 
 Man's opinion, value set upon, 82. 
 "Mansions, in my Father's house are 
 
 many," 281. 
 Maradan, M., 24. 
 Marie Am61ie, Queen, death of, atClare- 
 
 mont, England, 328; Guizot attends 
 
 her funeral, 329. 
 
 Martignae, M. de, forms a cabinet, 92; 
 the King's bitterness towards, 108. 
 
 Means of Government, and Opposition in 
 the present state of France, pamphlet 
 on, 61. 
 
 Meaux, two regiments quarrel at, 49. 
 
 Meditations on the Christian Religion, 
 one of Guizot's two great works, 322 ; 
 the work completed, 332. 
 
 Memoirs on ancient history of France 
 begun, 83. 
 
 Memoirs of Guizot begun, 304 ; inter- 
 rupted by visit to England, 314; 
 critiques on the first volume, 315; 
 work on, continued, 322; eighth and 
 last volume ends with the 23d of Febru- 
 ary, 329; the work finished, 331. 
 
 Menioirs relating to the History of the 
 English Revolution, 83. 
 
 Mercure, M. Guizot's contributions to, 
 24. 
 
 Meulan, Charles-Jacques-Louis de, 35. 
 
 Meulan family, Guizot's affection for the, 
 162. 
 
 Meulan, General de, brother of Madame 
 Guizot, 62 ; his wife in Guizot's family, 
 153. 
 
 Meulan, Madame de, in charge at Val- 
 Kicher, 204 ; her accomplishments, 
 204 
 
 Meulan, Mademoiselle de, M. Guizot's 
 notes on, 34; her sympathy and self- 
 devotion, 37 ; saves the life of M. de 
 Lamilliere, 38 ; publishes the Contra- 
 dictions and La Chapelle d^Ayton, 39; 
 anxiety at death of her brother-in-law, 
 40 ; M. Guizot writes for her, 40 ; be- 
 comes M. Guizot's business agent, 41; 
 marriage, 41. 
 
 Michelet's works not fit for children to 
 read, 202. 
 
 "Mind one, in two bodies for us to 
 work as we do," 353. 
 
 Mind, the full, overflows, and needs 
 another to pour its thoughts into, 301. 
 
 Ministry, eflbrt of the, to return to 
 Liberal courses, 93. 
 
 Mirbel, Madame de, conceals M. Guizot, 
 251. 
 
 Moderates terrified at Guizot's conserva- 
 tism, 265. 
 
 Mole, M., forms a new Ministry, 169; 
 his Cabinet dissolved, 186. 
 
 MoUien, Madame, 273. 
 
 Monaldeschi killed by order of Christina, 
 Queen of Sweden, 186. 
 
 Money matters, 63. 
 
 Monod, Adolphe, called the flrst of Chris- 
 tian orators, death of, 300. 
 
 Montalembert's, M. de, reception by the 
 Acad^mie Fran9aise, 278, 280; three 
 things he has omitted to say, 282. 
 
 Montesquieu, Abb6 de, appoints M. 
 Guizot his secretary, 48. 
 
 Morellet, salon of the Abb&, 26; his 
 studies, 28; friends of, 29. 
 
 Mortemart, M. de, 107. 
 
 Mother's love, tenderness of a, 84. 
 
366 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Mourning for the King, 273. 
 Mourning forbidden to relations of vic- 
 tims of tlie Revolution, 4. 
 MUller tlie historian, biograph}' of, 24. 
 
 N. 
 
 Nantes, revocation of Edict of, 1; ex- 
 planation of the affair at, 70. 
 
 Naples, King of, renders service to Cavour 
 by beating Garibaldi, 320; himself will 
 be dethroned by Cavour, 320. 
 
 Napoleon I. cuts each year into four, 
 292. 
 
 Napoleon 11. and the integrity of the 
 Papal States, 318. 
 
 Napoleon, Louis, attempt on the garrison 
 at Strasbourg, 173. 
 
 Nassau and its castle, 271. 
 
 Nature monotonous, but inexhaustible, 
 78. 
 
 Necker, M., and the economists, 35. 
 
 Nemoiu^, M. Dupont de, 29. 
 
 Nemours, Due and Duchesse de, dine 
 with M. Guizot, 205. 
 
 New Tales published hy Madame Guizot, 
 83. 
 
 New year's day, solemnity of, 16. 
 
 Nicholas, Emperor, ill-will towards 
 Louis-Philippe, 233; refuses to allow 
 intervention, 295. 
 
 Nimes, M. Guizot bom at, 1; visits 
 with his wife, 48. 
 
 Noah's ark, without the deluge, at Syd- 
 enham Crystal Palace, 299.. 
 
 Nomination of Guizot proposed by several 
 constituencies in 1849, 264-, given up, 
 265. 
 
 Numbers without unity produce confu- 
 sion, 174. 
 
 o. 
 
 Old France in the remembrance of new 
 
 generations, 72. 
 Omer Talon, quotation from, 66. 
 Opposition, the, and the government, 
 
 113. 
 Ordonnances, the three, which caused 
 
 the Revolution of 1830, 121. 
 Orfila a successful principal, 136. 
 Orleans, Duchess of, Guizot's opinion of, 
 
 184. 
 Orleans, Duke of, marriage to Princess 
 
 Helen of Mecklenburg-Schwerin, 184. 
 Ormond, Duke of, on his dead son, 266. 
 
 P. 
 
 Palmerston, Lord, rebuked by Lord John 
 Russell, 281; remark on Napoleon's 
 wishes as to integwtv of the Papal 
 States, 318. 
 
 Panizzi, Guizot dines with, 309. 
 
 Paris, demolitions in, reach Guizot's 
 house, 317 ; the siege of, 339. 
 
 Parler, parlement, parole — words of 
 
 doubtful origin, 109. 
 Parliament dissolved, 121. 
 Parliamentum, origin of the word, 109 ; 
 
 first used in modern language, 110. 
 Parole of doubtful origin, 109. 
 Past, the, as precious as the present, 82. 
 Peace, preservation of, 266. 
 Peaches at live francs each, 203. 
 Pelet, M., repairs to house of Minister of 
 
 Public Instruction, 170. 
 People together can be silent, at a dis- 
 tance they want to talk, 301. 
 Fire de famille, homme de lettres et, vi. 
 Purler, M. Casimir, remark to the King 
 
 about M. Guizot, 123 ; retired from the 
 
 Council, 124; death from the cholera, 
 
 129 ; supported in the Chamber by M. 
 
 Guizot and his friends. 139. 
 Peschier, M., abstracts of his lectures, 11. 
 Pevronnet, M. de, angers the King at the 
 
 Council, 120. 
 Phmnix^ loss of the, 228. 
 Pillars, finest antique, in the world, 206. 
 Piscatory, M., 33; Guizot's letter to, 
 
 274. 
 Pity for all that is lost and suffered m 
 
 life, 331. 
 Placitmn signifies contract, convention, 
 
 108. 
 Pleasure and comfort not the only experi- 
 ences in this world, 219 ; the pleasure 
 
 of giving pleasures, 222. 
 Plombiferes, Madame Guizot removed to, 
 
 88. 
 Poetry, M. Guizot's taste for, 12, 21. 
 Polignac, M. de, ministry of, lUB. 
 Politeness at cost of sincerity, 14. 
 Political anarchy of long duration, 264. 
 Political crisis more serious, 169. 
 Political plots and persecutions, 69. 
 Political vicissitudes, 123, 177. 
 Politics, place of, in the society of the 
 
 eighteenth century, 27. 
 Pope, the, missed his opportunttv, 320; 
 
 without a territory, like a kite without 
 
 a heavy tail, 321. 
 Poverty and vicissitudes possible in every 
 
 position, 248. 
 Power without guns impossible, 133. 
 Pozzo di Borgo an enemj' of Bonaparte, 
 
 53. 
 President, the, will be " the King of our 
 
 choice," 275. 
 Press, liberty of the, suspended, 121. 
 Primary education in France established 
 
 by M. Guizot, 145. 
 Prizes, subjects proposed for, at the 
 
 Acaddmie Franfaise, 287, 288. 
 Progress, intellectual, 213. 
 Proofs, M. Guizot's careful correction of, 
 
 70. _ ' 
 
 Propertius, extract from an elegy of, 155. 
 Protestants, assemblies of, interdicted, 
 
 1; elementary rights secured to, 2: 
 
 flight of, from France, 213. 
 Prussia, Ancient History of, by Kotze- 
 
 bue, articles on, 24. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 367 
 
 Prussia declares war, 336. 
 
 Public, to reach the, we must stoop and 
 
 shrinlc, as a cat under a door, 134. 
 Public education, Guizot's work for, 
 
 144, 266 ; his wish to leave a record of 
 
 what he did, and proposed to do for, 
 
 286. 
 Publiciste, edited by M. Souard, 39. 
 Punctuation, reasons for, 187. 
 
 Q. 
 
 Quickness a precious quality, 188. 
 
 R. 
 
 Bank, precedence of, 236. 
 
 Raphael's St. Michael, 59. 
 
 Kazomousky, Madame de, 88. 
 
 Ravez to be made a peer, 108. 
 
 Reformation, two principal characteris- 
 tics of the, 279. 
 
 Rehfus's Travels in Spain, translated by 
 M. Guizot, 23. 
 
 Reign of Terror, 3 ; black garments would 
 betray the ravages of, 5. 
 
 Religion essential to energ}' and love of 
 goodness, 16. 
 
 Religious two ways of being, 100 ; true 
 way, 101. 
 
 Remusat, M. de, notice of Madame 
 Guizot In his Conseils de Morale, 34', 
 return from mission to England, 133; 
 in the Cabinet, 171. 
 
 Remusat, Madame Pauline de, 118. 
 
 Renan on Guizot' s Memoirs, 315. 
 
 Representative Government and the pres- 
 ent state of France, pamphlet on, 54 ; 
 lectures on the history of the origin of, 
 71. 
 
 Republic, Guizot's opinion of a, 274. 
 
 Republicans furious at Guizot's conserva- 
 tism, 265. 
 
 Rest and justice are only for the dead, 
 236. 
 
 Retirement, anticipation of, 209. 
 
 Revolution in hands of Jacobins, 3. 
 
 Revolution of 1789 misrepresented by 
 Montalembert, 282. 
 
 Revolution of 1830. cause of, 121. 
 
 Revolution of 1848, 248. 
 
 Revolutionary spirit on the decline, 74, 
 
 Revolutionary theories combated, 71. 
 
 Jievue Dramatique, 119. 
 
 Revue Frangaise, edited by M. Guizot, 
 92. 
 
 Rhine, Guizot on the banks of the, 269. 
 
 Richelieu, M. de and the Ultras, 54. 
 
 Right, Right-Centre, and Extreme Right, 
 69 n. 
 
 Right of search, 238. 
 
 Riots of June, 1832, 132 ; a parody on the 
 Revolution of 1830, 133. 
 
 Robespierre, news of his fall, 4. 
 
 Roman Catholic reliKion, two essential 
 characteristics of, 279. 
 
 Roman Emperors, Crevier's History of 
 the, recommended, 202. 
 
 Roman question, contemptible phase of, 
 327. 
 
 Roman Republic, Michelet's History of 
 the, very inaccurate, 202. 
 
 Romance far below reality, 180. 
 
 Rome, Rollin's History of, recommended, 
 201; Echard's also, 202. 
 
 Rosewater at Lord Mayor's dinner, 200. 
 
 Rousseau, practical teachings of, 10 ; im- 
 agination, 27. 
 
 Royer-CoUard, M., professor of philoso- 
 phy in college of literature, M. Guizot 
 associated with, 47 ; recommends M. 
 Guizot to the Abbe de Montesquiou, 
 48; removed from the Conseil d'Etat, 
 55; under the surgeon's care, 57; 
 favours the removal of Madame Guizot 
 from Paris, 87 ; President of the Cham- 
 ber, 93; warning to Guizot on 
 Madame's health, 146. 
 
 Rulhicres, M. de, 2, 36. 
 
 Rumford, Madame de, article on, 26. 
 
 Russell, Lord John, rebukes Lord Palm- 
 erstoii, 281. 
 
 Russia and England's struggle for su- 
 premacy in the East, 294. 
 
 St. Beuve, M. de, on Madame Guizot, 
 
 257. 
 Saint-Chamans, M. le Comte de, 36. 
 Saint-Chamans, Marguerite-Jeanne de, 
 
 wife of M. de Meulan, 35. 
 Saint Cyr, Marshal Gouvion, M. Guizot 
 
 prepares speeches for, 64. 
 Saint Legier, M. de, 42. 
 Sardinia, policy of the King of, 318. 
 Scheffer, Ary, " the painter of souls," 
 
 257. 
 Sea, effect of first sight of, on M. Guizot, 
 
 124. 
 Seneca, quotation from, 66. 
 Senior, Mr., record of visit to Val- 
 
 Richer, v. 
 Senior, opinion of Guizot, 308. 
 Separation bitter to M. Guizot and his 
 
 wife, 56, 62. 
 Separations, unnatural, hardest to bear, 
 
 243. 
 Serre, M. dCj made Garde des Sceaux, 
 
 55; as a minister, 57. 
 Sion House, residence of Duke of Nor- 
 thumberland, 206. 
 Sistine Chapel, ceremonies in the, 278. 
 Social anarchy succeeded by political 
 
 anarchv, 263. 
 Society, efforts of, to emerge from chaos, 
 
 72. 
 Society formed of relics of eighteenth 
 
 century, 41. 
 Society of the eighteenth century, 26. 
 Solitude preferable to idle gossip, 182. 
 Sons-in-law, Guizot's, surpassed his ex- 
 pectations, 289 i their domestic life per- 
 
368 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 feet, 290 ; their fitness for public life, 
 2D0. 
 
 Sorrows, great, to be borne, 219. 
 
 Soul, everything passes away except the, 
 311. 
 
 Soult, Marshal, President of the Council, 
 143. 
 
 Sovereignty of the people, 71. 
 
 Sprengponter, Count, on Napoleon I., 
 292. 
 
 Stael, Auguste de, death of, 156. 
 
 Stael, Madame de, her Ten Years of 
 Exile, 68. 
 
 Stagnation is poison for the young, 140. 
 
 Stapfer, M., Swiss Minister at Paris, 
 liindness to M. Guizot, 20; encourages 
 his literary studies, 22; presents him 
 to M. Suard, Secretary oi the French 
 Academy, 26; Guizot at house of, 41. 
 
 Stein, Baron, his ancient castle, 271; 
 contents of his study, 272. 
 
 Strawberries at Val-Richer, 203. 
 
 Suard, M., Secretary of the French 
 Academy, 26; character of, 28; friends 
 of, 29 ; freedom of thought and speech at 
 house of, 30 ; editor oi, the Publiciste, 39. 
 
 Submission, absolute and bhnd, gives 
 rest, 155. 
 
 Success, the petty details of annoying, 65. 
 
 Switzerland a source of trouble, 174. 
 
 Sydenham Palace, a great curiosity, 299. 
 
 Synod of French Protestants, 345: open- 
 ing labors directed bv Guizot, 346. 
 
 Syria, insurrection in, S05. 
 
 T. 
 
 Table and hat turning, 292. 
 
 Talleyrand, M. de, conversation at house 
 of, 33 ; hope resting on, 51 ; advises the 
 the King to send for Due de Broglie, 
 142. 
 
 Tasso's Jerusalem Delivered recom- 
 mended for reading, 202. 
 
 Ten Years of Exile, by Madame de Stael, 
 68. 
 
 Tenderness of Guizot'a letters to his 
 wife, 82. 
 
 Temminck, Mademoiselle, at Val-Richer, 
 269. 
 
 Tess6, Madame de, salon oi, 28. 
 
 Texas, a new nation rising up in Amer- 
 ica, 186. 
 
 Thiers, M., Home Minister in Cabinet 
 of October 11, supports intervention of 
 France in civil war, 142 ; in Spain, 169 ; 
 head of a new Cabinet, 194. 
 
 Thoughtlessness the great fault of mor- 
 tals, 208. 
 
 Thucydides and Boccaccio not exaggera- 
 tors, 135. 
 
 Thunder-storm, 232. 
 
 Tocqueville, M. de, on Guizot, vi, 308. 
 
 Tragedy, a lower-class, what it may be, 
 67. 
 
 Travels in Spain, byEehfua, translated 
 by M. Guizot, 23. 
 
 Treilhard, the Director, 38. 
 
 Treport, entrance to the harbor difficult, 
 
 237. 
 Turpin-Crissfe, Mile. Aline de, wife of 
 
 General de Meulan, 62. 
 
 u. 
 
 Unity without numbers becomes tyranny, 
 
 175. 
 University, all the good in the, destroyed 
 
 by Napoleon II., 286. 
 
 Vaines, M. de, 39; marries Madame 
 Dillon, 60; removes to Paris, 81; 
 lived in Guizot's family, 153. 
 
 Vaines, Madame de, death of, 81. 
 
 Val-Richer, Guizot's first visit to, 163; 
 bought, 166; repairs at, 173; family 
 settled at, 201; Touques river, 163; 
 expense of improvements at, 206; lite 
 at, delightful to the children, 210; 
 Guizot's return to in July, J8i9, 265; 
 all there, 269 ; managed by Conrad de 
 Witt, 300; summer life at, 304; pre- 
 ferred to Edinburgh, 311; library re- 
 moved to, 317; a beautiful and capital 
 residence, 317; rest at, delightful to 
 Guizot, 353. 
 
 Van Amburgh, the lion-tamer, 192. 
 
 Vauquelin, M. de, death of, 110. 
 
 Vernes, Theodore, marries a grand- 
 daughter of Guizot, 334; at Val-Kicher 
 during the siege of Paris, 339. 
 
 Victoria, Queen, her gayetv at dinner, 219. 
 
 Vienna Conference (the) broken up, 295. 
 
 Vill^le, M. de, policy of, 92. 
 
 Villemain, M., permitted to resume his 
 lectures, 93. 
 
 Virgil's Mne'ii recommended for read- 
 ing, 202. 
 
 Virtue, strength taken out of, 14; charms 
 of, no longer felt, 15. 
 
 Visitors, M. Guizot'a manner towards, v. 
 
 Vitet, M. Guizot's letter to, on death of 
 his wife, 322; and on his Memoirs, 
 323; and Meditations, 324; his fraternal 
 affection for M. Duchatel, 330; notice 
 of Guizot's History of France, 344; 
 Guizot's letter on the death of Madame, 
 348; M. Vitet's death, 348; Guizot's 
 opinion of, 349. 
 
 Vitrolles, M. de, answer to paper by, 64. 
 
 Vivacity of mind, M. Guizot's, vi. 
 
 Vivacity of Madame Guizot, 5. 
 
 Voltaire, 27; contemporaries of, 29. 
 
 Von Giech, Countess, 272. 
 
 w. 
 
 Walstein, M. Guizot's five articles on, 42. 
 Washington, Life of written, 181. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 369 
 
 Washington would have had nothing to 
 
 do with the French Republic, 275; 
 
 Guizot's MS. of article on, given to 
 
 CorneliB de Witt, 343. 
 Weakness of man's powers, 215. 
 Weeping spoils the eyes, 5. 
 Will, extracts from Guizot's, 290. 
 Windsor Cattle, twenty pounds paid in 
 
 fees to servants at, 217, description of, 
 
 218. 
 Wisdom, with how little the world is 
 
 governed, 336 n. 
 Witt, Contad de, and wife visit Rome, 
 
 277; fond of agriculture, 299; remain 
 
 at Val-Richer during the siege of 
 
 Paris, 339. 
 Witt, Conrad and Cornells de, marry 
 
 Guizot's daughters, 269. 
 Witt, Cornells de, Guizot's letter to, 289 
 
 returns to Paris with his wife, 339 
 
 elected a deputy for Calvados, 342 
 
 Under-Secretary of IMinister of Interior, 
 
 353. 
 Witt, Madame Cornells de, nobly ful- 
 
 filled her task, v; letter to, 33; died 
 at forty-three, 259; in poor health, 
 292; birth of her fourth son, Francois, 
 334 ; hair turned white during siege of 
 Paris, 342 ; attacked by pleurisy, 350 ; 
 from Val-Richer to Cannes, 351; 
 death, 353. 
 
 Witt, £lisa de, birth and death, 276. 
 
 Witt, Elisabeth de, admitted to family 
 circle, 269; married to M. Gaillard, 
 297. 
 
 Women courted, not loved, 14. 
 
 Work the law of Madame Pauline 
 Guizot's life, 85 ; Guizot's chief con- 
 solation, 291. 
 
 Y. 
 
 York, from, to Edinburgh with Lord 
 
 Aberdeen, 311. 
 Young people, early gravity of, not to be 
 
 blamed, 15; why they are conceited, 
 
 214. 
 
 University Press: John Wilson & Son, Oambriage.