For the Literary Magazine.

THE CHARACTER AND PRIVATE

LIFE OF MR. NECKER, WRITTEN BY HIS DAUGHTER, MA

DAME DE STAEL.

Concluded from page 128.

MIRABEAU and his adherents, the very evening of the day on which my father returned to the Hotel de Ville, laboured to destroy his popularity; they overwhelmed him with venom in the journals, in libellous pamphlets; in fine, they laid siege to his reputation: and who does not know that, since the discovery of printing, there is a terrible engine in the hands of powerful men, which, like all the other engines of society, demands order and liberty, not to confound, or not to stifle every thing.

In spite of the enemies who surrounded him, Mr. Necker did still some partial good: the remains of his popularity were still the means of his saving some threatened lives: he infused into the royal authority a language which still sustained appearances: but a double virtue doubly diminished his power; the court perceiving his popularity decline adhered so much the less to his counsels, and the popular party, knowing that his credit declined at court, no longer dreaded his influence. His strength with the court consisted in his popularity, and he lost this popularity in defending the court. His credit with the court would have given him an influence over the popular party, and he did not obtain this credit because he had at first supported the popular party against the court. This circumstance however should prove no discouragement in morals. My father, it has been seen in his works, admitted no doubt of the fidelity of this guide, although it did not enable him to triumph over his enemies. If success were the end of man's existence, there would be no virtue; calculation would take its place. It is therefore to be believed that great sacrifices are imposed on deli

cate consciences, for an unknown and distant end. Cato, when he perished at Utica, did not rescue the liberty of Rome; but he has consecrated in all ages a noble idea by a great sacrifice. Who knows whether Mr. Necker, in becoming the martyr of a union of morals with politics, have not given more force to this opinion by his genius, than he has deprived it of by his reverses of fortune.

In 1790, of all years the most painful to my father, he saw his hopes, his projects, the remembrance of the past, the recompense he derived from the world's opinion, all that formed his destiny, sink before him; and nevertheless he never deviated a moment from his road of generosity. A member of the committee of finance published a book called "The Red Book," which ought not to have been made public, as it contained the secret expences of the king. Mr. Necker undertook the defence of this book, in which there was not a single article which related to his administration, and almost all of them to that of his opponent, Mr. de Calonne. Among other things were some gifts to the French princes, then banished from France, and who had shown themselves abroad very inimical to Mr. Necker. He only evinced more solicitude in justifying those gifts, and made use of all those delicate expressions which so nobly convey a respect for misfortune. My father's soul had no tincture of resentment: too gentle to hate, too proud to think itself insulted!

A decree was agitated to suppress titles. Mr. Necker warmly insisted that the king should refuse it his sanction, and he published a tract on the subject of this decree, at the moment when the enthusiasm for equality was most prevalent. It was not titles in general, but the utility of titles in a monarchy, which was analyzed in this tract. It ill suits me to expatiate here on the philosophic motives which often induced my father to embrace opinions, that might be considered as antiphilosophic: neither does it belong to my

tions of France which have successively obtained the approbation of all those whose opinions were overpowered, and the blame of all those whose opinions were victorious. It was in this retreat that he displayed a celestial mind, a character every day more pure, more noble, more refined. It was there that he impressed on the hearts of all who saw him a sentiment which they must all preserve to the end of their lives.

In writing the political life of my father, I shall endeavour to examine the character and object of his writings; and as some of them relate to the circumstances of the moment, perhaps I may one day abstract the general ideas, in order to form a body of political doctrine, which may perpetuate his name. I am sure that even among the admirers of Mr. Necker there are some who will be struck with fresh instances of his genius, thus detached from their connection with the events of the day, for he was forced to employ much of his resources to struggle with passing events; and it will be curious to extract from his works maxims that may serve for ages.

The only work of Mr. Necker's, printed during his retreat, which has no relation to political subjects, is his Course of Religious Morality. Some have been displeased with this book, divided into discourses, or rather sermons. Still I think this form peculiarly adapted to the end proposed by my father. It conveys a full idea of the effect that may be produced in our religion by the eloquence of the pulpit, and of the spirit of which it is susceptible. The recurrence of beautiful thoughts, of the most original and poetical expressions of the holy scriptures, imparts an interest to these discourses which single discourses never could produce. What beauties of style, of thought, of sentiment, does not this work exhibit! What profound knowledge of human nature in its strength and in its weakness, of that stormy and passionate nature which characterizes all those whose affections, misfortunes, or talents, snatch

them from the slumber of the soul, and from the vulgar course of a mere physical existence! What sublime indulgence from the most austere purity! What consolations for every grief, save one, for which I seek in vain for solace, even from his admirable genius. There is no social affection, no situation of human life, youth, age, adversity, glory, public and private duties, no one situation of which he has not treated intimately and truly. But to understand him, it is necessary to have been a sufferer.

What is most striking, in the works of Mr. Necker, is the incredible variety of talent they display. Voltaire stands alone in the literary world for the diversity of his geni us: Mr. Necker, I think, stands alone for the universality of his faculties. The blending and har mony of contrasts is what constitutes in the universe, as in man, the most perfect beauty. Delicacy and comprehensiveness, gaiety of wit and tenderness of heart, energy and refinement, precision and fancy, elevation of thought and originality of expression: all these qualities, without the defects that usually accompany them, are to be found in the writings of Mr. Necker. There is every where strength under due controul, a spirit of analysis which never decomposes sentiment, and separates causes without damping a single generous impulse, or enfeebling a single emotion of the heart. In ranging the world of fancy, he is never found in opposition to experience or to reason; he elevates, but he never bewilders. The minister and the poet unite in him by sublime but natural ties; by that comprehension of intellect which embraces all things; by that well ordered habit of mind which always sustains his greatness.

That work of my father, which I now publish, consists of detached thoughts and separate pieces on various subjects. Some of them have been written at different periods, but the greater part of them were composed this winter. I have sup

pressed a very few of them, which perhaps related too closely to political subjects. None of his works, I think, can give a better idea of himself. There is an astonishing sagacity in his reflections on the human heart, and a remarkable comic strength in his observations on society. The same work comprises a tract on metaphysics, on the commerce of grain, and on the happiness of fools. To treat on these three subjects, a head should contain, if I may so express it, a clue of uncommon extent; and to these subjects, of themselves so opposite, must be added all those which are treated with a profound sensibility, and every where with a beauty of expression, which paints with an equal charm both freedom and reserve, constraint and independence. He intended to increase the number of these detached thoughts: he had made notes on several subjects which he had designed to investigate: the political career he had passed through had led him to confine himself only to matters of administration and of high public importance: he therefore found a new pleasure in exercising himself freely on all subjects, and thus summoned in review before him the observations of his life. It is a great misfortune that, by adapting himself only to public contemplation, his unexpected death prevented his continuing to open the rich stores of his mind. It still contained treasures which are for ever lost; perceptions so refined and so just, so much honesty, even in his wit, a manner of judging systema tically free and exempt from prejudice, a faculty of thought which was neither bigotted to philosophic method nor fettered by received opinions, and which directed itself by its own elasticity and strength; in fine, something of vastness in its glance, which, perhaps, will never be found again; for all men of distinction are governed by that superior quality which distinguishes

them.

My father, in his most simple letters, had not a style; for he was too

natural to bestow on letters that sort of attention which is necessary to form what is properly a style, that is to say, a manner implying something of care and stateliness; but he had always that propriety of expression which is not, to my thinking, a simple intellectual merit; that sort of propriety which supposes a kind of celestial temper of mind dictating every word. When he wished, which was rarely the case, to make a wrong felt, coming either from a nation or an individual, from his child, or from his enemy, he expressed himself with so much moderation, with so much delicacy, that, if I may judge from myself, the heart was overwhelmed. What he forbore to say, appeared with so much more force; and, far from retrenching his words, his omissions are naturally added, as well as his favours, which he never recalled, and his glory, which he seemed to forget, only to challenge our affection and justice*.

Mr. Necker has been censured for too much pomp, and, consequently, uniformity, in his writings. This fault, if it exist, will certainly not appear in the thoughts which I now publish, and which he composed at his leisure, without any im

I will here cite a passage from one of his letters, which will convey some idea of this temperance and delicacy in his manner. Some insurgent peasants of the Pays de Vaud burnt, two years ago, some titles of seignorial property, and the government, after this insurrection, required of the proprietors of these burnt titles to write officially the complaints they had to make against

the rebels.

"I have nothing particular ed himself): they behaved with decento say against them (my father expressCy, their class considered (le genre admis)." What reflections occur on this simple phrase! The goodness and the pride which forbears, in its own cause, to accuse even the guilty; and in that phrase le genre admis, all the censure of à just man expressed with grace and reserve, which serves as a lesson for the weakness of governors, as well as for the violence of the governed.

mediate intention of making them known. But, in the works my father has printed, he still considered his character as a public man, and he maintained in them constantly, by habit and by expediency, the dignity of this character. Still it appears to me, that, through all this necessary dignity in the writings of Mr. Necker, those various kinds of ability, which are more distinctly seen in his detached thoughts, are perceptible. There is no talent, even to that of seizing with promptitude whatever is ridiculous in men and things, which may not easily be discerned in his most grave political writings. He indulges in this variety of style as much as may be, without impairing his consequence as a statesman; and it did not become Mr. Necker to sacrifice this consideration to the highest literary merit.

One of the most remarkable qualities in Mr. Necker's style is a perfect harmony. He could not endure harsh and abrupt phrases; and he composed no piece of eloquence, without reading it aloud in his chamber. Harmony is certainly one of the great charms of style. Such is the analogy between physical and moral nature, that all the affections of the soul have a suitable inflection of voice, a melody of words, according with the sense of the words themselves. The general complexion of my father's impressions was a noble dignity; and, in observing the harmony of his style, the character of this expression will be felt. Still I believe that if he could have brought himself to break his phrases oftener, to assume sometimes a familiar tone, to descend with his read ers occasionally, that they might the more strongly feel his movements of elevation, he would, perhaps, have inspired less respect, his style would not have been so classical, but the ordinary reader would have felt more sensibly the multiplicity of his ideas. Some attention is requisite to appreciate with discrimination all the instances of neatness, ingenuity, and originality, in the uniform state

liness of his style. If Bossuet had not been unequal, perhaps his fine passages would create less astonishment. The continuity of excellence of every kind scarcely ever obtains continuity of admiration

This harmony, replete with magnificence, which appears in almost all the known works of Mr. Necker, assumes a character entirely different in the novel he wrote, and which concludes this collection. He gave a loose in this production to his tender and susceptible feelings, to a simplicity which was natural to him, and to an eloquence as glowing as it is graceful. În the perusal of this novel, particularly, the reader will perceive the interior of his bosom, and the despair occasioned by his loss. It is now precisely eighteen months ago, when, talking with him of romances, and their difficulty, I took the liberty of desiring him to write one. He told me he thought it possible to interest more powerfully in depicting conjugal affection than any other kind of love; we talked of an event that had happened at Paris, and revived in a journal, and I proposed to him this subject as the most difficult to treat of. He accepted it, and some weeks after he submitted to me the novel I now publish. At this moment, when every word irritates my wounds, even at this moment its impression is not stronger than it was then. It evinces a degree of talent to which nothing can be added; and when it is considered that this affecting language of love, of passion, of sensibility, of delicacy, is the work of a man of seventy years of age, of a man hackneyed in political events the most likely to wither the heart, of a man who had been constantly occupied in calculations and business; when it is considered that the same name is found at the bottom of the Administration of Finance and of "The Fatal Consequences of a Single Fault," that the same man, at an advanced age, suddenly displays, in addition to his acknowledged talents, the grace of youth, the passion of mature age, and an