THE SORROWS OF EXILE.
1814-1815
Eugene meets Louis XVIII.--Hortense in Paris.--Interest of Napoleon in
the princes.--Anecdote of Louis Napoleon.--Removal of the remains of
Napoleon Charles.--Titles of the princes.--Conversation with the
princes.--Louis Bonaparte demands the children.--Hortense meets the
Emperor.--Reinauguration of the Emperor.--Hortense meets
Napoleon.--Departure of the Emperor.--Anger of the Royalists.--Hostility
of the Allies.--Driven into exile.--Takes refuge at Aix.--Separation of
the princes.--Continued persecutions.--Hospitality of the
Swiss.--Anguish of Hortense.--Retires to the Lake of Constance.--Prince
Eugene.--Testimony of Lady Blessington.
There probably never was a more tender, loving mother than Josephine.
And it is not possible that any children could be more intensely devoted
to a parent than were Eugene and Hortense to their mother. The grief of
these bereaved children was heart-rending. Poor Hortense was led from
the grave almost delirious with woe. Etiquette required that Eugene,
passing through Paris, should pay his respects to Louis XVIII. The king
had remarkable tact in paying compliments. Eugene announced himself
simply as General Beauharnais. He thanked the king for the kind
treatment extended by the allied monarchs to his mother and his sister.
Hortense was also bound, by the laws of courtesy, to call upon the king
in expression of gratitude. They were both received with so much
cordiality as to expose the king to the accusation of having become a
rank Bonapartist. On the other hand, Eugene and Hortense were censured
by the partisan press for accepting any favors from the Allies. After
the interview of Louis XVIII. with Hortense, in which she thanked him
for the Duchy of St. Leu, the king said to the Duke de Duras: "Never
have I seen a woman uniting such grace to such distinguished manners;
and I am a judge of women."
It is very difficult to ascertain with accuracy the movements of
Hortense during the indescribable tumult of the next few succeeding
months. The Duke of Rovigo says that Hortense reproached the Emperor
Alexander for turning against Napoleon, for whom he formerly had
manifested so much friendship. But the Emperor replied: "I was compelled
to yield to the wishes of the Allies. As for myself personally, I wash
my hands of every thing which has been done."
The death of Josephine and the departure of Eugene left Hortense,
bereaved and dejected, almost alone in Paris with her two children.
Their intelligence and vivacity had deeply interested Alexander and
other royal guests, who had cordially paid their tribute of respect and
sympathy to their mother. Napoleon had taken a deep interest in the
education of the two princes, as he was aware of the frailty of life,
and as the death of the King of Rome would bring them in the direct line
to the inheritance of the crown.
The Emperor generally breakfasted alone when at home, at a small table
in his cabinet. The two sons of Hortense were frequently admitted, that
they might interest him with their infant prattle. The Emperor would
tell them a story, and have them repeat it after him, that he might
ascertain the accuracy of their memory. Any indication of intellectual
superiority excited in his mind the most lively satisfaction.
Mademoiselle Cochelet, who was the companion and reader of Queen
Hortense, relates the following anecdote of Louis Napoleon:
"The two princes were in intelligence quite in advance of their years.
This proceeded from the care which their mother gave herself to form
their characters and to develop their faculties. They were, however, too
young to understand all the strange scenes which were transpiring around
them. As they had always beheld in the members of their own family, in
their uncles and aunts, kings and queens, when the Emperor of Russia and
the King of Prussia were first introduced to them, the little Louis
Napoleon asked if they were also their uncles, and if they were to be
called so.
"'No,' was the reply; 'they are not your uncles. You will simply address
them as sire.'
"'But are not all kings our uncles?' inquired the young prince.
"'Far from being your uncle,' was the reply, 'they have come, in their
turn, as conquerors.'
"'Then they are the enemies,' said Louis Napoleon, 'of our uncle, the
Emperor. Why, then, do they embrace us?'
"'Because the Emperor of Russia, whom you see, is a generous enemy. He
wishes to be useful to you and to your mamma. But for him you would no
longer have any thing; and the condition of your uncle, the Emperor,
would be more unhappy.'
"'We ought, then, to love this Emperor, ought we?'
"'Yes, certainly,' was the reply; 'for you owe him your gratitude.'
"The next time the Emperor Alexander called upon Hortense, little Louis
Napoleon, who was naturally very retiring and reticent, took a ring
which his uncle Eugene had given him, and, stealing timidly over to
Alexander, slipped the ring into his hand, and, half frightened, ran
away with all speed. Hortense called the child to her, and asked him
what he had done. Blushing deeply, the warm-hearted boy said:
"'I have nothing but the ring. I wanted to give it to the Emperor,
because he is good to my mamma.'
"Alexander cordially embraced the prince, and, putting the ring upon his
watch-chain, promised that he would always wear it."
The remains of Napoleon Charles, who had died in Holland, had been
deposited, by direction of Napoleon, in the vaults of St. Denis, the
ancient burial-place of the kings of France. So great was the jealousy
of the Bourbons of the name of Napoleon, and so unwilling were they to
recognize in any way the right of the people to elect their own
sovereign, that the government of Louis XVIII. ordered the body to be
immediately removed. Hortense transferred the remains of her child to
the church of St. Leu.
Notwithstanding this jealousy, Alexander and the King of Prussia could
not ignore the imperial character of Napoleon, whose government they had
recognized, and with whom they had exchanged ambassadors and formed
treaties: neither could they deny that the King of Holland had won a
crown recognized by all Europe. They and the other crowned heads, who
paid their respects to Hortense, in accordance with the etiquette of
courts, invariably addressed each of the princes as _Your Royal
Highness_. Hortense had not accustomed them to this homage. She had
always addressed the eldest as Napoleon, the youngest as Louis. It was
her endeavor to impress them with the idea that they could be nothing
more than their characters entitled them to be. But after this, when the
Bourbon Government assumed that Napoleon was an usurper, and that
popular suffrage could give no validity to the crown, then did Hortense,
in imitation of Napoleon at St. Helena, firmly resist the insolence.
Then did she teach her children that they were princes, that they were
entitled to the throne of France by the highest of all earthly
authority--the almost unanimous voice of the French people--and that the
Bourbons, trampling popular rights beneath their feet, and ascending the
throne through the power of foreign bayonets, were usurpers.
[Illustration: HORTENSE AND HER CHILDREN.]
Madame Cochelet, the reader of Queen Hortense, writes, in her
interesting memoirs: "I have often seen her take her two boys on her
knees, and talk with them in order to form their ideas. It was a curious
conversation to listen to, in those days of the splendors of the empire,
when those children were the heirs of so many crowns, which the Emperor
was distributing to his brothers, his officers, his allies. Having
questioned them on every thing they knew already, she passed in review
whatever they should know besides, if they were to rely upon their own
resources for a livelihood.
"'Suppose you had no money,' said Hortense to the eldest, 'and were alone
in the world, what would you do, Napoleon, to support yourself?'
"'I would become a soldier,' was the reply, 'and would fight so well that
I should soon be made an officer.'
"'And Louis,' she inquired of the younger, 'how would you provide for
yourself?'
"The little prince, who was then but about five years old, had listened
very thoughtfully to all that was said. Knowing that the gun and the
knapsack were altogether beyond his strength, he replied:
"'I would sell violet bouquets, like the little boy at the gate of the
Tuileries, from whom we purchase them every day.'"
The boy is father of the man. Such has been Louis Napoleon from that
hour to this; the quiet student--hating war, loving peace--all devoted
to the arts of utility and of beauty. He has been the great pacificator
of Europe. But for his unwearied efforts, the Continent would have been
again and again in a blaze of war. As all present at this conversation
smiled, in view of the unambitious projects of the prince, Hortense
replied:
"This is one of my lessons. The misfortune of princes born on the throne
is that they think every thing is their due; that they are formed of a
different nature from other men, and therefore never feel under any
obligations to them. They are ignorant of human miseries, or think
themselves beyond their reach. Thus, when misfortunes come, they are
surprised, terrified, and always remain sunk below their destinies."
The Allies retired, with their conquering armies. Hortense remained with
her children in Paris. Louis Bonaparte, sick and dejected, took up his
residence in Italy. He demanded the children. A mother's love clung to
them with tenacity which could not be relaxed. There was an appeal to
the courts. Hortense employed the most eminent counsel to plead her
cause. Eleven months passed away from the time of the abdication; and
upon the very day when the court rendered its decision, that the father
should have the eldest child, and the mother the youngest, Napoleon
landed at Cannes, and commenced his almost miraculous march to Paris.
The sublime transactions of the "One Hundred Days" caused all other
events, for a time, to be forgotten.
Hortense was at the Tuileries, one of the first to greet the Emperor as
he was borne in triumph, upon the shoulders of the people, up the grand
staircase. "Sire," said Hortense, "I had a presentiment that you would
return, and I waited for you here." The Allies had robbed the Emperor of
his son, and the child was a prisoner with his mother in the palaces of
Vienna. Very cordially Napoleon received his two nephews, and kept them
continually near him. With characteristic devotion to the principle of
universal suffrage, Napoleon submitted the question of his re-election
to the throne of the empire to the French people. More than a million of
votes over all other parties responded in the affirmative.
On the first of June, 1815, the Emperor was reinaugurated on the field
of Mars, and the eagles were restored to the banners. It was one of the
most imposing pageants Paris had ever witnessed. Hundreds of thousands
crowded that magnificent parade-ground. As the Emperor presented the
eagles to the army, a roar as of reverberating thunder swept along the
lines. By the side of the Emperor, upon the platform, sat his two young
nephews. He presented them separately to the departments and the army as
in the direct line of inheritance. This scene must have produced a
profound impression upon the younger child, Louis Napoleon, who was so
thoughtful, reflective, and pensive.
In the absence of Maria Louisa, who no longer had her liberty, Hortense
presided at the Tuileries. Inheriting the spirit of her mother, she was
unfailing in deeds of kindness to the many Royalists who were again
ruined by the return of Napoleon. Her audience-chamber was ever crowded
by those who, through her, sought to obtain access to the ear of the
Emperor. Napoleon was overwhelmed by too many public cares to give much
personal attention to private interests.
The evening before Napoleon left his cabinet for his last campaign,
which resulted in the disaster at Waterloo, he was in his cabinet
conversing with Marshal Soult. The door was gently opened, and little
Louis Napoleon crept silently into the apartment. His features were
swollen with an expression of the profoundest grief, which he seemed to
be struggling in vain to repress. Tremblingly he approached the Emperor,
and, throwing himself upon his knees, buried his face in his two hands
in the Emperor's lap, and burst into a flood of tears.
"What is the matter, Louis?" said the Emperor, kindly; "why do you
interrupt me, and why do you weep so?"
The young prince was so overcome with emotion that for some time he
could not utter a syllable. At last, in words interrupted by sobs, he
said,
"Sire, my governess has told me that you are going away to the war. Oh!
do not go! do not go!"
The Emperor, much moved, passed his fingers through the clustering
ringlets of the child, and said, tenderly,
"My child, this is not the first time that I have been to the war. Why
are you so afflicted? Do not fear for me. I shall soon come back
again."
"Oh! my dear uncle," exclaimed the child, weeping convulsively; "those
wicked Allies wish to kill you. Let me go with you, dear uncle, let me
go with you!"
The Emperor made no reply, but, taking Louis Napoleon upon his knee,
pressed him to his heart with much apparent emotion. Then calling
Hortense, the mother of the child, he said to her:
"Take away my nephew, Hortense, and reprimand his governess, who, by her
inconsiderate words, has so deeply excited his sympathies."
Then, after a few affectionate words addressed to the young prince, he
was about to hand him to his mother, when he perceived that Marshal
Soult was much moved by the scene.
"Embrace the child, Marshal," said the Emperor; "he has a warm heart and
a noble soul. _Perhaps he is to be the hope of my race!_"
Napoleon returned from the disaster at Waterloo with all his hopes
blighted. Hortense hastened to meet him, and to unite her fate with his.
"It is my duty," she said. "The Emperor has always treated me as his
child, and I will try, in return, to be his devoted and grateful
daughter." In conversation with Hortense, Napoleon remarked: "Give
myself up to Austria! Never. She has seized upon my wife and my son.
Give myself up to Russia! That would be to a single man. But to give
myself up to England, that would be to throw myself upon a _people_."
His friends assured him that, though he might rely upon the honor of the
British _people_, he could not trust to the British _Government_.
Hortense repaired to Malmaison with her two sons, where the Emperor soon
rejoined her. "She restrained her own tears," writes Baron Fleury,
"reminding us, with the wisdom of a philosopher and the sweetness of an
angel, that we ought to surmount our sorrows and regrets, and submit
with docility to the decrees of Providence."
It was necessary for Napoleon to come to a prompt decision. The Allies
now nearly surrounded Paris. On the 29th of June the Emperor sat in his
library at Malmaison, exhausted with care and grief. Hortense, though
with swollen eyes and a heart throbbing with anguish, did every thing
which a daughter's love could suggest to minister to the solace of her
afflicted father. Just before his departure to Rochefort, where he
intended to embark for some foreign land, he called for his nephews, to
take leave of them. It was a very affecting scene. Both of the children
wept bitterly. The soul of the little, pensive Louis Napoleon was
stirred to its utmost depths. He clung frantically to his uncle,
screaming and insisting that he should go and "fire off the cannon!" It
was necessary to take him away by force.
"The Emperor was departing almost without money. Hortense, after many
entreaties, succeeded in making him accept her beautiful necklace,
valued at eight hundred thousand francs. She sewed it up in a silk
ribbon, which he concealed in his dress. He did not, however, find
himself obliged to part with this jewel till on his death-bed, when he
intrusted it to Count Montholon, with orders to restore it to Hortense.
This devoted man acquitted himself successfully of this commission."[H]
[Footnote H: Life of Napoleon III., by Edward Roth.]
Upon the departure of Napoleon, Hortense, with her children, returned to
Paris. She was entreated by her friends to seek refuge in the interior
of France, as the Royalists were much exasperated against her in
consequence of her reception of the Emperor. They assured her that the
army and the people would rally around her and her children as the
representatives of the Empire. But Hortense replied:
"I must now undergo whatever fortune has in store for me. I am nothing
now. I can not pretend to make the people think that I rally the troops
around me. If I had been Empress of France, I would have done every
thing to prolong the defense. But now it does not become me to mingle my
destinies with such great interests, and I must be resigned."
In a few days the allied armies were again in possession of Paris. The
Royalists assumed so threatening an attitude towards her, that she felt
great solicitude for the safety of her children. Many persons kindly
offered to give them shelter. But she was unwilling to compromise her
friends by receiving from them such marks of attention. A kind-hearted
woman, by the name of Madame Tessier, kept a hose establishment on the
Boulevard Montmartre. The children were intrusted to her care, where
they would be concealed from observation, and where they would still be
perfectly comfortable.
Hortense had her residence in a hotel on the Rue Cerutti. The Austrian
Prince Schwartzenberg occupied the same hotel, and Hortense hoped that
this circumstance would add to her security. But the Allies were now
greatly exasperated against the French people, who had so cordially
received the Emperor on his return from Elba. Even the Emperor Alexander
treated Hortense with marked coldness. He called upon Prince
Schwartzenberg without making any inquiries for her.
The hostility of the Allies towards this unfortunate lady was so great,
that on the 19th of July Baron de Muffling, who commanded Paris for the
Allies, received an order to notify the Duchess of St. Leu that she must
leave Paris within two hours. An escort of troops was offered her, which
amounted merely to an armed guard, to secure her departure and to mark
her retreat. As Hortense left Paris for exile, she wrote a few hurried
lines to a friend, in which she said:
"I have been obliged to quit Paris, having been positively expelled from
it by the allied armies. So greatly am I, a feeble woman, with her two
children, dreaded, that the enemy's troops are posted all along our
route, as they say, to protect our passage, but in reality to insure our
departure."
Prince Schwartzenberg, who felt much sympathy for Hortense, accompanied
her, as a companion and a protector, on her journey to the frontiers of
France. Little Louis Napoleon, though then but seven years of age,
seemed fully to comprehend the disaster which had overwhelmed them, and
that they were banished from their native land. With intelligence far
above his years he conversed with his mother, and she found great
difficulty in consoling him. It was through the influence of such
terrible scenes as these that the character of that remarkable man has
been formed.
It was nine o'clock in the evening when Hortense and her two little
boys, accompanied by Prince Schwartzenberg, reached the Chateau de
Bercy, where they passed the night. The next morning the journey was
resumed towards the frontiers. It was the intention of Hortense to take
refuge in a very retired country-seat which she owned at Pregny, in
Switzerland, near Geneva. At some points on her journey the Royalists
assailed her with reproaches. Again she was cheered by loudly-expressed
manifestations of the sympathy and affection of the people. At Dijon the
multitude crowding around her carriage, supposing that she was being
conveyed into captivity, gallantly attempted a rescue. They were only
appeased by the assurance of Hortense that she was under the protection
of a friend.
Scarcely had this melancholy wanderer entered upon her residence at
Pregny, with the title of the Duchess of St. Leu, ere the French
minister in Switzerland commanded the Swiss government to issue an order
expelling her from the Swiss territory. Switzerland could not safely
disregard the mandate of the Bourbons of France, who were sustained in
their enthronement by allied Europe. Thus pursued by the foes of the
Empire, Hortense repaired to Aix, in Savoy. Here she met a cordial
welcome. The people remembered her frequent visits to those celebrated
springs, her multiplied charities, and here still stood, as an
ever-during memorial of her kindness of heart, the hospital which she
had founded and so munificently endowed. The magistrates at Aix formally
invited her to remain at Aix so long as the Allied powers would allow
her to make that place her residence.
It seemed as though Hortense were destined to drain the cup of sorrow to
its dregs. Aix was the scene of the dreadful death of Madame Broc,
which we have above described. Every thing around her reminded her of
that terrible calamity, and oppressed her spirits with the deepest
gloom. And, to add unutterably to her anguish, an agent arrived at Aix
from her husband, Louis Bonaparte, furnished with all competent legal
powers to take custody of the eldest child and convey him to his father
in Italy. It will be remembered that the court had decided that the
father should have the eldest and the mother the youngest child. The
stormy events of the "Hundred Days" had interrupted all proceedings upon
this matter.
This separation was a terrible trial not only to the mother, but to the
two boys. The peculiarities of their dispositions and temperaments
fitted them to assimilate admirably together. Napoleon Louis, the elder,
was bold, resolute, high-spirited. Louis Napoleon, the younger, was
gentle, thoughtful, and pensive. The parting was very affecting--Louis
Napoleon throwing his arms around his elder brother, and weeping as
though his heart would break. The thoughtful child, thus companionless,
now turned to his mother with the full flow of his affectionate nature.
A French writer, speaking of these scenes, says:
"The soul of Hortense had been already steeped in misfortune, but her
power of endurance seemed at length exhausted. When she had embraced her
son for the last time, and beheld the carriage depart which bore him
away, a deep despondency overwhelmed her spirits. Her very existence
became a dream; and it seemed a matter of indifference to her whether
her lot was to enjoy or to suffer, to be persecuted, respected, or
forgotten."
And now came another blow upon the bewildered brain and throbbing heart
of Hortense. The Allies did not deem it safe to allow Hortense and her
child to reside so near the frontiers of France. They knew that the
French people detested the Bourbons. They knew that all France, upon the
first favorable opportunity, would rise in the attempt to re-establish
the Empire. The Sardinian government was accordingly ordered to expel
Hortense from Savoy. Where should she go? It seemed as though all Europe
would refuse a home to this bereaved, heart-broken lady and her child.
She remembered her cousin, Stephanie Beauharnais, her schoolmate, whom
her mother and Napoleon had so kindly sheltered and provided for in the
days when the Royalists were in exile. Stephanie was the lady to whom
her father had been so tenderly attached. She was now in prosperity and
power, the wife of the Grand Duke of Baden. Hortense decided to seek a
residence at Constance, in the territory of Baden, persuaded that the
duke and duchess would not drive her, homeless and friendless, from
their soil, out again into the stormy world.
To reach Baden it was necessary to pass through Switzerland. The Swiss
government, awed by France, at first refused to give her permission to
traverse their territory. But the Duke of Richelieu intervened in her
favor, and, by remonstrating against such cruelty, obtained the
necessary passport. It was now the month of November. Cold storms swept
the snow-clad hills and the valleys. Hortense departed from Aix, taking
with her her son Louis Napoleon, his private tutor, the Abbé Bertrand,
her reader, Mademoiselle Cochelet, and an attendant. She wished to spend
the first night at her own house, at Pregny; but even this slight
gratification was forbidden her.
The police were instructed to watch her carefully all the way. At Morat
she was even arrested, and detained a prisoner two days, until
instructions should be received from the distant authorities. At last
she reached the city of Constance. But even here she found that her
sorrows had not yet terminated. Neither the Duke of Baden nor the
Duchess ventured to welcome her. On the contrary, immediately upon her
arrival, she received an official notification that, however anxious the
grand duke and duchess might be to afford her hospitable shelter, they
were under the control of higher powers, and they must therefore request
her to leave the duchy without delay. It was now intimated that the only
countries in Europe which would be allowed to afford her a shelter were
Austria, Prussia, or Russia.
The storms of winter were sweeping those northern latitudes. The health
of Hortense was extremely frail. She was fatherless and motherless,
alienated from her husband, bereaved of one of her children, and all her
family friends dispersed by the ban of exile. She had no kind friends to
consult, and she knew not which way to turn. Thus distracted and
crushed, she wrote an imploring letter to her cousins, the Duke and
Duchess of Baden, stating the feeble condition of her health, the
inclement weather, her utter friendlessness, and exhaustion from
fatigue and sorrow, and begging permission to remain in Constance until
the ensuing spring.
In reply she received a private letter from the grand duchess, her
cousin Stephanie, assuring her of her sympathy, and of the cordiality
with which she would openly receive and welcome her, if she did but dare
to do so. In conclusion, the duchess wrote: "Have patience, and do not
be uneasy. Perhaps all will be right by spring. By that time passions
will be calmed, and many things will have been forgotten."
Though this letter did not give any positive permission to remain, it
seemed at least to imply that soldiers would not be sent to transport
her, by violence, out of the territory. Somewhat cheered by this
assurance, she rented a small house, in a very retired situation upon
the western shore of the Lake of Constance. Though in the disasters of
the times she had lost much property, she still had an ample competence.
Her beloved brother, Eugene, it will be remembered, had married a
daughter of the King of Bavaria. He was one of the noblest of men and
the best of brothers. As soon as possible, he took up his residence near
his sister. He also was in the enjoyment of an ample fortune. Thus
there seemed to be for a short time a lull in those angry storms which
for so long had risen dark over the way of Hortense.
In this distant and secluded home, upon the borders of the lake,
Hortense and her small harmonious household passed the winter of 1815.
Though she mourned over the absence of her elder child, little Louis
Napoleon cheered her by his bright intelligence and his intense
affectionateness. Prince Eugene often visited his sister; and many of
the illustrious generals and civilians, who during the glories of the
Empire had filled Europe with their renown, were allured as occasional
guests to the home of this lovely woman, who had shared with them in the
favors and the rebuffs of fortune.
Hortense devoted herself assiduously to the education of her son. She
understood thoroughly the political position of France. Foreigners, with
immense armies, had invaded the kingdom, and forced upon the reluctant
people a detested dynasty. Napoleon was Emperor by popular election. The
people still, with almost entire unanimity, desired the Empire. And
Hortense knew full well that, so soon as the French people could get
strength to break the chains with which foreign armies had bound them,
they would again drive out the Bourbons and re-establish the Empire.
Hortense consequently never allowed her son to forget the name he bore,
or the political principles which his uncle, the Emperor, had borne upon
his banners throughout Europe. The subsequent life of this child has
proved how deep was the impression produced upon his mind, as pensively,
silently he listened to the conversation of the statesmen and the
generals who often visited his mother's parlor. Lady Blessington about
this time visited Hortense, and she gives the following account of the
impression which the visit produced upon her mind:
"Though prepared to meet in Hortense Bonaparte, ex-Queen of Holland, a
woman possessed of no ordinary powers of captivation, she has, I
confess, far exceeded my expectations. I have seen her frequently, and
spent two hours yesterday in her society. Never did time fly away with
greater rapidity than while listening to her conversation, and hearing
her sing those charming little French _romances_, written and composed
by herself, which, though I had often admired them, never previously
struck me as being so expressive and graceful as they now proved to be.
"I know not that I ever encountered a person with so fine a tact or so
quick an apprehension as the Duchess of St. Leu. These give her the
power of rapidly forming an appreciation of those with whom she comes in
contact, and of suiting the subjects of conversation to their tastes and
comprehensions. Thus, with the grave she is serious, with the lively
gay, and with the scientific she only permits just a sufficient extent
of her _savoir_ to be revealed to encourage the development of theirs.
"She is, in fact, all things to all men, without losing a single portion
of her own natural character; a peculiarity of which seems to be the
desire, as well as the power, of sending all away who approach her
satisfied with themselves and delighted with her. Yet there is no
unworthy concession of opinions made, or tacit acquiescence yielded, to
conciliate popularity. She assents to or dissents from the sentiments of
others with a mildness and good sense which gratifies those with whom
she coincides, or disarms those from whom she differs."