"Thy most dreaded instrument, In working out a pure intent, Is man array'd for mutual slaughter; Yea, Carnage is thy daughter." other writings, that all the magnificence his stupid or dishonest detractors, he and all the liberal expenditure with which boldly sang,he found himself surrounded, did not destroy his earliest convictions of the radically debasing tendencies of traffic, and of the danger which there is of its tainting whatever it touches. He could not shut his eyes to this natural and necessary effect of a habit of mind which looks at everything, primarily and principally, with a view to the pecuniary gain to be made of it. Nor can we believe that his original martial ardor, his imaginative sympathy, at least, with " the pride, pomp, and circumstance, of glorious war," ever wholly died within him. Of course, every man in his senses prefers a state of peace to a state of war. But Chalmers, with his manly understanding and robust nature, was not likely to fall, until he had fallen into his dotage, into that sickliest and silliest of crazes, which regards war, when it does come, as wholly either a crime or an evil. He may not have gone quite the length of his illustrious countryman, Buchanan, who, in the preface to his tragedy of Jepthes, addressed to to the Count de Brissac (Charles de Cossé), thus expresses himself:-"Neque enim inter rei militaris et literarum studium ea est, quam plerique falso putant, discordia; sed summa potius concordia, et occulta quædam naturæ conspiratio." But that he could have ever become blind or insensible to the high energies, moral as well as intellectual, aye, and the sublime virtues, which war often calls forth, and to the height to which, more almost than anything else can do, it sometimes elevates man in all respects above his ordinary self, we hold to be impossible. He never could have so far forgotten what he had himself experienced in other days, the honest and lofty enthusiasm of his own youth and early manhood. He could not have turned so deaf an ear to the testimony of all history, which declares that it is war which has produced, in every age and country, not only the noblest examples of individual daring, endurance, and self-sacrifice, but the brightest and steadiest flame of public spirit and patriotism in the universal people. Rather to the last, we feel assured, he would have responded heart and soul, to the adoring and thanksgiving words of the great poet of the last generation and of the present, when, raising his voice high above the screams and yells of Or, as the same voice, as melodious and organ-toned as ever, has, even while we write, again proclaimed the truth on the same theme, "War is mercy, glory, fame, Waged in Freedom's holy cause; Chalmers's military ardor, however, when it was at its height, did not allow him to rest satisfied with merely writing warlike books. He was so far smitten by the scarlet fever which then prevailed, as to enrol himself in a volunteer corps. Whether he served as a private and carried a musket, as many others of his station did, or acted as an officer, we are not sure; we rather think he had a commission. A rapid transition from his clerical to his military character, with which he once astounded the people of another parish in Fife, was long remembered in the place where it was performed, a village some fifteen or sixteen miles distant from Kilmany. Chalmers had an old college friend living in this neighborhood, a preacher, or unbeneficed clergyman, attached, like himself, to mathematical and astronomical studies, whom he used occasionally to visit. One day, having, probably, left home in haste, and with the intention of returning immediately, he made his appearance at his friend's house in his volunteer's uniform; but, as it was near the end of the week, he was easily prevailed upon to remain, and preach in the parish church on Sunday. This he did accordingly, attired in a black coat, with which his friend had supplied him. Finding the borrowed habiliment, however, not quite so comfortable as if it had been made to measure-for, in truth, his friend and himself had by no means been cast corporeally in the same mould, and the poor coat must have undergone a very unwonted and somewhat perilous tension in its embrace of Chalmers's breadth of back that day-as soon as he had descended from the pulpit he did not hesitate to resume his own attire; and the rustics could with difficulty stubborn vigor," she herself says, "that cle of her activity, but also to lighten the has been the prop and support of my youth." From 1795, to the end of the last century, if liberty was not complete and secure, still there was liberty; and spectators were able to participate in the movement of public affairs, otherwise than by pity or detestation. Every one could form and advance an opinion, apply himself to some cause, be concerned in a plan: in short, pursue an honorable course with some prospect of success. The revolution had encroached so much upon civil liberty, that it reacted against the revolution itself; there was a struggle, a struggle perhaps unforeseen but not hopeless. For the first time Mademoiselle de Meulan took an interest in political events; she ardently wished success to those who fought against the revolution, for it had been oppressive, and her sympathy naturally turned to the side of the opposition. What she hated in the revolution was its violence; what she admired in some of its adversaries, was independence in misfortune. At the same time, she was endeavoring to enlarge her mind by new studies. Her taste drew her towards moral theories and metaphysical inquiries. She began some books, and tried to initiate herself into the theories of the philosophy of the 18th century; she did not finish them. Her mind was so free, so spontaneous, so active in itself, that it could not yield without reluctance to the subjugation, which an examination of the ideas of others imposes; it preferred directly attacking realities, than searching without an interpreter the mysterious meaning of the enigmas with which our reason is surrounded. The best and most serious books were to her but subjects for meditation, either to make the ideas she met with her own by a deeper research, or to arrive by her own single strength at ideas, which she held not in common with any one. Thus, she studied more than she read, and gave herself the habit of writing a great deal, but only in order to regulate her thoughts, or give account of her meditations. What is written, in fact, fixes and elucidates all, and makes us, in some way, be present at the display of our own mind. It was at this time, that two friends of her father's, Monsieur Suard, and Monsieur Devaines, suggested to Mademoiselle de Meulan, that she might take advantage of her talents, not only to extend the cir burden which weighed upon her family. Thus what had been her solace in retirement, became her resource in misfortune; and from this time, labor, either from necessity or choice, became the constant occupation of her life. Her first novel, Les Contradictions, which displays keen wit, and a great facility of style, appeared in 1800, and obtained such success as made her name known to the world, and excited a great interest in her situation. Society was beginning to amend; it eagerly encouraged a young person, whose misfortunes had been their own, and who opposed her talents to her destiny. La Chapelle d'Ayton was published soon after, and modestly presented as a translation from the English; it is not even an imitation, the general idea is all that Mademoiselle de Meulan had borrowed. Most of the events, the unfolding of the characters, the form of the recital, in short, the sentiments and the expressions, are her own. Few novels are more engaging, though it contains neither exaggerated sentiments nor unnatural scenes; it is, however, a narrative which pierces the heart, and carries our compassion even to pain. The source of its interest is derived from one of those cruel mistakes, which have given so many effective works to our stage, and of which the tragedy of Tancréde is perhaps the finest and most pathetic example. In La Chapelle d'Ayton, the sensibility of the author is entirely displayed, and even with that excess which belongs only to youth,-to that age, when the emotions, whatever they may be, go not beyond their strength; when imagination softens their bitterness, and often even lends them an inexpressible charm: at a later period, they are too painful. Madame Guizot, I have no doubt, would not have had the courage to compose La Chapelle d'Ayton, and to combine so much innocence and misfortune, when she wrote: "The effect of the works of art ought to be such, that no idea of reality adheres to it; for as soon as that enters it, the effect becomes distressing, and even sometimes insupportable: therefore, I cannot bear, at the theatre, or in novels, or poems, under the names of Tancréde, or Zara, or Othello, or of Delphine, the sight of those great afflictions of the mind, or severe dispensations of fortune. In point of happiness and grief, my life has been so full, so alive to them, that I cannot touch upon one of those depths without a trembling hand. The reality reveals itself to me, through all the coverings with which art can envelope it; my imagination, once disturbed, reaches it in one bound. It is but a short time since the music in l'Agnese produced the same effect on me as I usually experienced from the works of art. I could not bear the finale of Romeo and Juliet: that of l'Agnese alone made me weep without rending my heart." (1821.) cess of which decisively established her rank amongst the first writers of the age. The composition of newspapers is a work, which though sometimes amusing, is necessarily hurried, and is one which both stimulates and wears the mind. Nothing less than varied powers, such as those of Mademoiselle de Meulan, would have sufficed for such an undertaking. Notwithstanding the constant demand upon them, she was never at a loss, and knew, in a species of work in which it is very difficult not to fall sooner Whatever may be the affecting interest or later into routine and profession, how which pervades La Chapelle d'Ayton, it is to pursue and even to increase that sprightremarkable, that the work offers but few ly originality, which distinguished and traces of that indulgence for passion, that marked her articles, even better than the sentimental theory, which sacrifices judg- first letter of her name Pauline. The rement to feeling, and flatters the bewitch-membrance of them is not effaced amongst ing fantasies of an exalted imagination, at the persons of that time; expected with the expense of conscience and of truth. Few novels are more free from what can be called romantic morality. I insist upon this observation, because it is characteristic. anxiety, read with eagerness, they often formed the whole topic of conversation in society, which at that time took up those little things with more interest than it would be reasonable to do at present. At the time Mademoiselle de Meulan. This was a time of re-action. After viowrote, "there was a happy singularity in lent commotions, society sought only for preserving oneself from the opinions which repose; every opinion which could have prevailed in literature, and in society, with contributed to disturb it, became suspectregard to duty and affection. It was the ed; everything that seemed to lead to, or time when sympathy explained everything, to evince the return of order, was received when devotedness excused everything; with favor. Thus, those peaceful occupawhen the heart knew no rule but affection, tions, those harmless pleasures, which apno virtue but fidelity. Mademoiselle de pear to some minds the whole of civilizaMeulan was far from having reflected on tion; the enjoyment of society, literature, all things, with such serious impartiality as arts, &c., were taken up again, as benefits she has since done; she did not then know, long forgotten, as proofs and securities of as she did at a later period, that there is public tranquillity. At the same time, all something higher than sensibility itself, consideration was withdrawn from the which consecrates by regulating it. But, in things most important to the community; default of principles, her native good sense the great subjects of politics and philosotaught her, that what weakens the charac-phy gained scarcely any attention; people ter, what wastes time, and blunts the feelings, could not be the real vocation of human nature; and that everything, even the ability to love, has been bestowed upon us for a higher end than our gratification. were unwilling to consider them, lest they might bring everything into question. It has been said, that the true wisdom of society was not to meddle with its concerns; and France only desired two things, to be In 1801, Monsieur Suard established a governed, and to be left in peace. This newspaper under the name of Le Publiciste. weak disposition made the fortune of desA moderate independence, the love of or-potism; but, for a lesson to human nature, der without oppression, and of truth without boldness; in fact, the philosophy of the eighteenth century, enlightened and intimidated by the revolution, formed the spirit of this publication. It agreed, although imperfectly, with the opinions of Mademoiselle de Meulan, and she did not scruple to take a share in its compilation. She wrote innumerable articles upon literature, society, and the stage; the merit and suc France, abdicating without finding rest, learned by experience, that there is no compensation for the sacrifice of liberty. Mademoiselle de Meulan did not at that time give a reason for this general disposition, which drove all minds under the yoke. She, herself, partook of it to a certain degree, from the recollections of indignation and grief, which the ill time of the revolution had impressed upon her. She was, She however, far from calling in slavery as an lan made her daily more sought after by the expiation for anarchy; and struggled unde- world. She appeared in it as much as her signedly, and from the same effort of her labors would permit ; it amused her mind; own independence of mind, against that she excelled in conversation and enjoyed it, timidity of troubled reason, which tends to as affording opportunities for observation, bring back in books and manners, as well and exercising the mind by compelling it to as in the laws and institutions, that puerile reflect quickly, and disclose itself clearly. frivolity, the companion and the instru-She felt, nevertheless, that much was still ment of superficial literature and servile wanting to the happiness of her life. politics. She accordingly aroused herself had no one to sympathize with her. Ever to what was still called philosophy, but did independent and natural, she felt the connot adopt all its principles; she soon com-sciousness of a power superior to all that bated them on matters of morals, those to she did, and life appeared inadequate to which she had devoted most attention; for, it. Her influence around her was effectual from that time, all her compositions prove and salutary: the affairs of the family were a visible desire to bring everything back to managed by her care, and made easy by her a moral point of view. Even literary criti- labor. In 1803 she married her sister to cism was to her but an opportunity of study- Monsieur Dillon, and gave up, on that ocing human nature, and she drew up her casion, her own share of an inheritance judgments upon literary productions in the that belonged equally to both. Persuaded form of essays, which were designed either that she would always live a single life, sure to portray or to elucidate them. This of the resources of her own talents, and method had at that time the great merit of looking forward to the future with a confinovelty. dence that never forsook her, those acts, In the general zeal for returning to good which are generally called sacrifices, were principles, literature had not been forgot- to her so easy that it had been almost an ten, and nothing was more spoken of than injustice to praise her for them. Devotedthe necessity of following the great models ness was, with her, the very consequence of in everything, a sort of criticism which con- her independence; it formed a part of her sists in drawing up in books the rule for existence; she almost thought she had a books, and in giving to art for a model, the mission to regulate everything, to improve examples which it has itself produced. everything around her, and to consider Women are not easily satisfied with this herself as nothing; for nothing common criticism of rhetoricians; we hear them al- would have satisfied her. It was fit that most always judge of the compositions of she should do much for the happiness of art by the reality, or after their own mind, others, as they could do so little for hers! She which is also reality. It is perhaps because felt that it was placed beyond the common they are less learned, that they become lot, and that it did not depend on any one more true. When they apply themselves about her, or even on herself, to give it to seriously to literature, and have received her. She regretted this happiness that she the advantage of strength of mind, the ar- was born to feel, but she no longer exdor of talent, if they keep their natural pected it. manner of judging, they can carry into criticism a genuine superiority, and give to their literary views something of the interest and value which is attached to original works. She was mistaken: it was not an ever solitary and hard lot that awaited her; by a rare dispensation in this life, it was happiness of such a kind as was suited to her nature. She was about to fill the situation This is what may be remarked in the for which she was formed, and was one of greater number of articles by Mademoiselle the very few whom life has not deceived. de Meulan. The value of them is often In the month of March, 1807, she was in independent of the work which suggested much affliction; her sister had just lost her them; even when they cannot be connected husband, the family affairs were in great with the general ideas of human nature, disorder, her mind was harassed with a they at least join in portraying the thousand painful cares, and her impaired manners and the age. A choice of these health obliged her to give up her literary articles would form an agreeable collection, labors. While in this distressing situation and some of them might serve for a history she was surprised by receiving a letter withof society in France after the revolution. out any signature, and in an unknown The reputation of Mademoiselle de Meu-hand. The writer did not wish to give his A day, however, was to come, when a complete sympathy would result from a long and mutual friendship, and from that day their common fate is to be fixed. The day at length came, when, ceasing to misunderstand the affection which united them, they gave it its true name. Their marriage took place on the ninth of April, 1812. name, but said he had heard of her illness, sentiment should ever become the charm and begged to be allowed to supply the and the happiness of her whole life. Laarticles she had been engaged to write for bors in common, mutual services, endless Le Publiciste, as long as she felt herself conversations in which these two minds unequal to the task. She at first refused, learned to understand each other, and to though both affected and surprised at the modify themselves by the impression, approposal: it was renewed with more earnest-peared for a long time to be the only affinity ness, when, charmed with the tone of can- which ever would unite them. dor and simplicity in which the offer was made, she accepted it, and was supplied from time to time, by a secret conveyance, with such articles as she had no reason to regret publishing in place of her own. In the meantime the mystery continued; in vain, assisted by Monsieur Suard, did she endeavor to penetrate it. At length she addressed her wary correspondent, conjuring him to give his name, and refusing on any other terms to continue under such an obligation. He at length yielded, announced his name, and it was thus she became acquainted with Monsieur Guizot. He was at this time a young man, and had been about two years in Paris, where he lived buried in study, and preparing to make a name for himself some day in the literary world. He had heard Mademoiselle de Meulan spoken of by chance at Monsieur Suard's, and feeling the deepest interest in her situation, he contrived the plan above mentioned to assist her, which was at once an impulse of generosity and a whim of fancy; but one, however, to decide her future life. There is a kind of happiness of which one knows not how to write: expressions fail! it proclaims itself not. I find in a letter of Madame Guizot's (dated 1821) these words: "I am happy, the happiest creature upon earth." She said the truth; at least she felt it, and happiness can only be measured by feeling; it exists only in the impression which it produces; all its reality is in the heart. A situation at once happy and animated was what Madame Guizot had always wanted; had she been compelled to choose, I think she would have preferred activity to happiness; her sense, and that energy which nature had implanted in her, made activity a law to her; nevertheless, none felt more keenly or more deeply the real joys of life. "My resolution is taken," she somewhere says, soon as a barrier is raised between me and happiness; I now know very well, and will never more forget, that one can live without happiness; only when it is there I can ill brook anything that disturbs it. You know, for I have told you so a hundred times, that it enfeebles me, or rather it is so suitable to my nature, I was so made for feeling it, that I give myself up to it with all my weakness." Such citations attest better than I can do, that deep and overwhelming sensibility which was united in Madame Guizot to the austerity of her judgment. They also explain what influence the unmixed happiness of the last fifteen years of her life must have had upon her. as From the time they became acquainted, they were not long before they had formed a sincere and intimate friendship, which at first consisted more of confidence than sympathy. They differed in many matters, and their opinions were far from being similar; the one being, as we have seen, attached to those of the last century, without entirely adopting them, and preserving the restless curiosity of a mind that wished to seek the truth elsewhere. The other contained within him the germ of all the ideas which have since been developed, and which are those of the present age; but absolute as inexperience, visionary as imagination, the tenets which he professed with enthusiasm at twenty, could not at first sight captivate a clear sighted, particular mind, like that of Mademoiselle de Meulan. For a long It is seldom that women are active withtime Monsieur Guizot knew only how to out being excited, and strength of mind is please, without persuading her; for a long with them scarcely ever free from rigidity. time she loved without understanding him; Truth, and truth alone, suffices, I believe yet she carried into this affection an ad- at least, for the judgment of men; it can mirable simplicity and devotedness, and so completely seize upon it as to be no guarded herself from imagining that this longer distinguishable, without borrowing |