"This souvenir of Madame Dubarri," said C., "forms one of the prince's favourite nouvelles de boudoir, as he gracefully calls these fugitive anecdotes with which his memory is stored. I have observed that, from his youth upwards, his heart has ever softened towards the fair sex. I never heard him speak disparagingly of any woman, not even of those whom he is aware have done him evil service; while he is ever ready to allow that he owed much of his success, in early life, to the kindness and protection of his female friends. They alone had tact and penetration enough to discover the future influence of the Abbé de Perigord; while their lords and masters' beheld in him nothing more than the blind tool of an insane and furious party. Madame de Staël, who was his first conspicuous protectress, inspired, notwithstanding this, far less gratitude in the mind of her protege, than the humble confederate with whom she leagued to obtain his pardon and recall, Madame de la Bouchardie. You will smile when I tell you, that even to this hour he cannot speak of this charming woman without emotion. I myself have heard his voice falter when he has mentioned her name. He loves to talk of her with those who still remember the matchless graces of her person, the exquisite sensibility and goodness of her mind. "I shall never forget the reply he made one day to my foolish banal question of What kind of person was she?' ration 6 "You could no more understand what kind of person she was,' he replied, with a contemptuous smile, than I can comprehend the admibestow you upon the poor, vapid puppets with which your modern drawing-rooms are filled, or the influence you accord to the female bourgeoisier, the wives and daughters of your bankers, and your agents de change, who, if admitted at all to the salons of the aristocracy of my day, would not occupy, as they now do, the high places, but those afar off nearest the door. Any endeavour to make you understand the peculiar fascination of Madame de la Bouchardie, would be useless; for you, in your generation, cannot have seen the like. She belonged to that class of women who followed the downfal of the monarchy, whose manners and habits were far different from those of the charming marquises of the ancient regime, and were perhaps even more charming still. Born amid strife and contention, daughters of the revolution, their part was to calm excitement, to soothe the angry passions which had been aroused, and well did they fulfil their gentle destiny. History will preserve the names of Madame Beauharnais, of Madame Tallien, of Madame Hamelie-not so much for their talents and courage, as for their gentleness and influence in turning aside wrath, and saving the weak from the fury of the strong.' "It is pleasant to listen to the praises of this fair and gentle creature from the lips of M. de Talleyrand, mingled as they are with the expression of his gratitude which time has not yet deadened towards her. The only romantic incident in the whole life of the prince is connected with Madame de la Bouchardie, and there lies perhaps the secret of the tenderness with which he remembers; while the gratitude which he is compelled to feel towards her proud rival, Madame de Staël, has left him cold and unimpassioned. The latter, who, by her own confession, envied the grace she could not imitate, was bound by the ties of friendship to Madame de la Bouchardie, and disdained not to make use of her influence when occasion required; and often was her amour-propre severely wounded to find that those in power who had been proof against her own blandishments, yielded at once with scarce an effort at resistance to the wondrous fascination of Madame de la Bouchardie. The comtesse occupied at that time a small hotel, not far from the site of the Bastile, and here she sought to live in retirement; but this was soon discovered to be no easy matter for one whose name had already been immortalised in some of the most glowing verses in the language, and her salon soon became the rendezvous of all the wit and talent of the capital. "The young General Buonaparte was one of her most ardent admirers, 'tis even said that she had precedence of Josephine Beauharnais in his affections. Her answer to his prosposal of marriage is well known, and proves that she already felt a presentiment of his future greatness. "No, general, you will advance too far for one like myself who loves to remain stationary." "Joseph Chenier, the poet, the dramatist, the ardent republican, had also laid his talents and his triumphs at her feet, and it was upon this influence that Madame de Staël had reckoned to obtain the recall from exile of M. de Talleyrand. It was a work of time and patience, and required all the power of the one-all the more powerful weakness of the other to obtain even so much as a hearing to their bold demand. At length the fair Eugenie had recourse to a graceful expedient which had more effect than all the philosophical reasonings of her learned friend. It was the custom of Chenier to spend his evenings at the little Hôtel d'Esparda, and there, in the society of the comtesse and Corinne, after a day spent in toil and strife, amid the loud uproar of the tribune, or the furious declamation of the club, would he love to retremper son âme and imbibe fresh inspiration for the composition of those splendid odes with which he has enriched our language. He was accompanied in these visits by his little dog, Stella, which had been a present from the comtesse, and knew her well. The little animal was in the habit of running on before his master to the hotel, where he would bark and scratch that the porter might open the gate so that his master might not be kept waiting. Madame de la Bouchardie was aware of this, and every evening, at the wellknown signal which announced the approach of Chenier, she would seat herself at the harp and begin to sing the beautiful touching ballad, of Le Proscrit. Her voice was most splendid, and she was possessed of great talent as a musician, having herself set to music many of those exquisite ballads written by Chenier's brother, André. "This was the sure way to reach the poet's soul. She well knew that he stood without and listened to the end. Not daring to enter while the fascination lasted. When at length the ballad was concluded, and Madame de la Bouchardie had arisen from the instrument, she was sure to behold Chenier standing on the threshold, leaning against the doorway, with saddened countenance, and tears glistening in his eyes. It was then, while still beneath the spell of that heavenly strain, that he was greeted with the words, which must at such a moment have sunk deep into his heart: 'Dear Joseph, what has been done to-day for M. de Talleyrand? For some time the devoted friends had to sustain discouraging refusals or embarrassed excuses on the part of Chenier, but the stern principles of the republican yielded at last to the generous perseverance of the comtesse, and at length one evening he was enabled to answer the accustomed question by the information that the convention had consented to listen to the justification of citizen Maurice, and that he himself was appointed to plead the cause of the exile on the morrow. The whole evening was spent by the three friends in fixing what should be said, what arguments used, to move the pity of his listeners, most of whom were disposed against the measure he was about to propose. The night passed away in the amicable discussion. So anxious were the trio to lose no single advantage of argument which Chenier's speech might be made to contain. "The keen wit of Madame de Staël, and the fiery energy of Chenier, were for ever coming in contact, and causing the whole fabric of the poet's intended plaidoyer to fall to the ground, after it had been raised with so much care and pains. Sometimes the gentle spirit of Eugenie would suggest some conciliatory word which would flatter the irritable selflove of both her friends, and soothe their wounded vanity, and again they would go on smoothly with their task until fresh cause of difference arose, and Eugenie was again appealed to. It was thus that with these petty causes of delay, morning had arrived and no speech was prepared, and Chenier went down to the tribune disheartened and discouraged at the unwonted sterility of his imagination, and dreading, after all, that his own want of eloquence might cause the appeal in favour of M. de Talleyrand to be rejected by the assembly. He found the indefatigable friends already arrived, and waiting in the ante-room. Madame de Staël submitted to his judgment several new reasonings which had entered her mind since he had left her, but they found poor Chenier still cold and uninspired; and as he turned to enter the salle where the members of the convention were fast assembling, he said, in despair, 'Pray for me, for I need it; I fear that I shall have no success in this cause, notwithstanding you have made it yours." "Madame de la Bouchardie approached and laid her hand upon his arm. She looked up into the face of the poet with a countenance bathed in tears, Chenier tried to tear himself away, but she still detained him, and, in a low, tremulous voice, fearful of being overheard by those beyond the door, she sang the opening couplet of the ballad which had first roused him to exertion for the sake of the exile. She saw by his heightened colour and his quivering lip that he was moved, and, as she proceeded with the song, her own emotion became more painful still. Just as she concluded, the bell, which summoned the assembly to silence and attention was heard, and Chenier rushed into the hall with that powerful emotion still upon his soul. Before the last strain uttered by those sweet tones had died upon his ear, he had mounted the tribune, and without forethought, without preparation, gave utterance, in impassioned language, to one of the most brilliant appeals which had ever been pronounced before that stern, unpitying senate. Enthusiasm was roused, the motion, supported by Legendre and Boissy, was carried without a murmur, and citizen Maurice was declared free to return to France whenever it might suit his own pleasure. Madame de Staël, by her interest with Barras, certainly forwarded the measure, and she has reaped the fame, while Madame de la Bouchardie has gathered all the gratitude. pro "The first visit of M. de Talleyrand on his arrival in Paris was of course to Chenier, and it was agreed between them that they would ceed together that same evening to the little Hotel d'Esparda, which no longer echoed with the prayers and lamentations of the two fair soliciteuses, but had once more renewed its tone of gaiety and insouciance ever since the successful termination of their efforts in favour of their absent friend. Chenier entered the drawing-room alone, requesting M. de Talleyrand to remain for a moment in the shadow of the doorway. By a little artifice he led the conversation to the subject of the exile, and both Madame de Staël and her friend expressed anxiety and surprise that he had not yet arrived from Berlin. They complained of this delay, reproaching him with coldness and ingratitude in thus remaining so long in voluntary banishment. "Were he to hear your ballad of the Proscrit,' it would hurry his return,' said Chenier to Madame de la Bouchardie, at the same time taking her by the hand, and leading her to the harp, and Eugénie, although declaring that the song was a pièce de circonstance and out of date, yielded to his entreaty that she would sing it, and finding inspiration in the remembrances which the music called up, she gave it with all the impassioned energy, which had before roused the soul of her lover to pursue with such unwearied perseverance the cause he had himself at first condemned. While she was singing, M. de Talleyrand had drawn near unperceived, and when her hand fell to her side at the conclusion of the ritournelle, he seized it in a transport of delight, and imprinted on those fairy fingers, a fervent kiss of gratitude. The loud shriek of surprise uttered by Madame de la Bouchardie, aroused Madame de Staël from the reverie into which the melody of the voice of her friend never failed to plunge her. In an instant the arms of both ladies, with true republican sans gêne of the day, were around the neck of the happy Proscrit,' and while Madame de Staël expressed with fluency all the joy she felt at again beholding him, the Comtesse de la Bouchardie shed tears of happiness, more eloquent in their silence, than all the florid declamation of her friend. "It would enchant you to hear the prince describe that scene, the mixture of the burlesque and the pathetic which he can paint so well." "What became of Madame de la Bouchardie ?" said I. "Her name is never mentioned in the annals of that time, and yet it seems difficult to suppose that she could have sunk so completely to obscurity as to have left no trace. The friend of Buonaparte and Talleyrand, the mistress of Chenier, the companion of Corinne, must of necessity have been a personage of note, not a mere comparte to occupy the back of the stage." "Alas! you should not have asked me this," said C., mournfully. "It seems as if a curse hung over all that was fair and virtuous at that stormy time. There is a tale connected with Madame de la Bouchardie of such frightful injustice, of such base ingratitude, that it would harrow up your soul were I to tell it. At Chenier's death she went to live on her estate, but was brought back to Paris, some few years back, a confirmed, incurable lunatic. When the prince seems overcome by sadness, and calls for his carriage before the hour at which he is accustomed to take his daily drive, I know almost by instinct that Dr. E. has been closeted with him for some time and I can easily guess who has formed the melancholy subject of their conference." A FRAGMENT OF a Prose Masque: PROPOSED FOR PRESENTATION AT COURT ON A LATE OCCASION. SCENE.-Sea Coast. The GENIUS OF FRANCE enters, carrying a Moorish umbrella, BRITANNIA meeting her. The COURT JESTER runs in, twirling his bells. Jester. Welcome to England, dear France! Are you afraid of finding England too hot for you that you shelter yourself under that monstre umbrella? Genius. No, no. But I have been so scorched in Africa Jester. Mere affectation, dear France. The English will positively set it all down to the score of affectation. Pray lay it aside, for our climate is so murky that you need never be afraid of seeing too much of the sun. Besides, you ought to show your face to the people here, and not bury yourself under such a huge shadow. Remember, also, that France alone can throw France into the shade. Genius. You are infinitely obliging. I appreciate the delicacy of the compliment. You are a perfect master of the art of flattery. Jester. Not at all. I am horridly out of practice. I picked up a few hasty lessons on my flying visit last year to the Château d'Eu; but there is no opportunity of cultivating an elegant hypocrisy in_this country. The fact is, between ourselves, flattery does not suit the English constitution. Britannia. We are too fond of calling things by their right names. You might as well expect to find an Englishman expert at making vers de société, as to find him accomplished in the finesse of conversation. Genius. Ah! you are so solide. Society is a serious affair with you -a matter of business, and you set about it with an air of calculation as if you were counting up the profit and loss! Now with us— Jester. Pray, don't insist upon the comparison. There is no question about the brilliancy of your society; but how long does it last, and what does it bequeath? It goes out like a blaze of fireworks, and leaves darkness behind. Genius. But we live for the fireworks-you for the darkness. Which is the wiser philosopher-he who lives through the present, of which he is secure, or he who amasses every thing for the contingent future? He who lives for himself, or he who lives for posterity? One of your poets has a capital line which ought to be inscribed over the national arms— Coming events cast their shadows before. These coming events are always casting their shadows over the English. Jester. To-morrow is a cheat. We know nothing about him-we 2 K |