Harper's New Monthly Magazine, Vol III, No 13, 1851

Just at this period it so happened that I was besieged by more than a dozen persons of every rank in regard to Madame de Staël, formerly exiled by Bonaparte, and who had rushed to Paris without taking breath, fully persuaded every one there, and throughout all France, was impatient to see her again. Madame de Staël had a double view in thus introducing herself to me; namely, to direct my proceedings entirely, and to obtain payment of the two million francs deposited in the treasury by her father during his ministry. I confess I was not prepossessed in favor of Madame de Staël, for she also, in 1789, had manifested so much hatred toward the Bourbons, that I thought all she could possibly look to from us, was the liberty of living in Paris unmolested: but I little knew her. She, on her side, imagined that we ought to be grateful to her for having quarreled with Bonaparte – her own pride being, in fact, the sole cause of the rupture.

M. de Fontanes and M. de Châteaubriand were the first who mentioned her to me; and to the importance with which they treated the matter, I answered, laughing, "So Madame la Baronne de Staël is then a supreme power?"

"Indeed she is, and it might have very unfavorable effects did your royal highness overlook her: for what she asserts, every one believes, and then – she has suffered so much!"

"Very likely; but what did she make my poor sister-in-law the queen suffer? Do you think I can forget the abominable things she said, the falsehoods she told? and was it not in consequence of them, and the public's belief of them, that she owed the possibility of the embassadress of Sweden's being able to dare insult that unfortunate princess in her very palace?"

Madame de Staël's envoys, who manifested some confusion at the fidelity of my memory, implored me to forget the past, think only of the future, and remember that the genius of Madame de Staël, whose reputation was European, might be of the utmost advantage, or the reverse. Tired of disputing I yielded; consented to receive this femme célèbre, as they all called her, and fixed for her reception the same day I had notified to Madame de Genlis.

My brother has said, "Punctuality is the politeness of kings" – words as true and just as they are happily expressed; and the princes of my family have never been found wanting in good manners; so I was in my study waiting when Madame de Genlis was announced. I was astonished at the sight of a long, dry woman, with a swarthy complexion, dressed in a printed cotton gown, any thing but clean, and a shawl covered with dust, her habit-shirt, her hair even, bearing marks of great negligence. I had read her works, and remembering all she said about neatness, and cleanliness, and proper attention to one's dress, I thought she added another to the many who fail to add example to their precepts. While making these reflections, Madame de Genlis was firing off a volley of courtesies; and upon finishing what she deemed the requisite number, she pulled out of a great huge bag four manuscripts of enormous dimensions.

"I bring," commenced the lady, "to your royal highness what will amply repay any kindness you may show to me – No. 1 is a plan of conduct, and the project of a constitution; No. 2 contains a collection of speeches in answer to those likely to be addressed to Monsieur; No. 3, addresses and letters proper to send to foreign powers, the provinces, &c.; and in No. 4 Monsieur will find a plan of education, the only one proper to be pursued by royalty, in reading which, your royal highness will feel as convinced of the extent of my acquirements as of the purity of my loyalty."

Many in my place might have been angry; but, on the contrary, I thanked her with an air of polite sincerity for the treasures she was so obliging as to confide to me, and then condoled with her upon the misfortunes she had endured under the tyranny of Bonaparte.

"Alas! Monsieur, this abominable despot dared to make a mere plaything of me! and yet I strove, by wise advice, to guide him right, and teach him to regulate his conduct properly: but he would not be led. I even offered to mediate between him and the Pope, but he did not so much as answer me upon this subject; although (being a most profound theologian) I could have smoothed almost all difficulties when the Concordat was in question."

This last piece of pretension was almost too much for my gravity. However, I applauded the zeal of this new mother of the church, and was going to put an end to the interview, when it came into my head to ask her if she was well acquainted with Madame de Staël.

"God forbid!" cried she, making a sign of the cross: "I have no acquaintance with such people; and I but do my duty in warning those who have not perused the works of that lady, to bear in mind that they are written in the worst possible taste, and are also extremely immoral. Let your royal highness turn your thoughts from such books; you will find in mine all that is necessary to know. I suppose monsieur has not yet seen Little Necker?"

"Madame la Baronne de Staël Holstein has asked for an audience, and I even suspect she may be already arrived at the Tuileries."

"Let your royal highness beware of this woman! See in her the implacable enemy of the Bourbons, and in me their most devoted slave!"

This new proof of the want of memory in Madame de Genlis amused me as much as the other absurdities she had favored me with; and I was in the act of making her the ordinary salutations of adieu, when I observed her blush purple, and her proud rival entered.

The two ladies exchanged a haughty bow, and the comedy, which had just finished with the departure of Madame de Genlis, recommenced under a different form when Madame de Staël appeared on the stage. The baroness was dressed, not certainly dirtily, like the countess, but quite as absurdly. She wore a red satin gown, embroidered with flowers of gold and silk; a profusion of diamonds; rings enough to stock a pawnbroker's shop; and, I must add, that I never before saw so low a cut corsage display less inviting charms. Upon her head was a huge turban, constructed on the pattern of that worn by the Cumean sibyl, which put a finishing stroke to a costume so little in harmony with her style of face. I scarcely understand how a woman of genius can have such a false, vulgar taste. Madame de Staël began by apologizing for occupying a few moments which she doubted not I should have preferred giving to Madame de Genlis. "She is one of the illustrations of the day," observed she with a sneering smile – "a colossus of religious faith, and represents in her person, she fancies, all the literature of the age. Ah, ah, monsieur, in the hands of such people the world would soon retrograde; while it should, on the contrary, be impelled forward, and your royal highness be the first to put yourself at the head of this great movement. To you should belong the glory of giving the impulse, guided by my experience."

"Come," thought I, "here is another going to plague me with plans of conduct, and constitutions, and reforms, which I am to persuade the king my brother to adopt. It seems to be an insanity in France this composing of new constitutions." While I was making these reflections, madame had time to give utterance to a thousand fine phrases, every one more sublime than the preceding. However, to put an end to them, I asked her if there was any thing she wished to demand.

"Ah, dear! – oh yes, prince!" replied the lady in an indifferent tone. "A mere trifle – less than nothing – two millions, without counting the interest at five per cent.; but these are matters I leave entirely to my men of business, being for my own part much more absorbed in politics and the science of government."

"Alas! madame, the king has arrived in France with his mind made up upon most subjects, the fruit of twenty-five years' meditation; and I fear he is not likely to profit by your good intentions!"

"Then so much the worse for him and for France! All the world knows what it cost Bonaparte his refusing to follow my advice, and pay me my two millions. I have studied the Revolution profoundly, followed it through all its phases, and I flatter myself I am the only pilot who can hold with one hand the rudder of the state, if at least I have Benjamin for steersman."

"Benjamin! Benjamin – who?" asked I, in surprise.

"It would give me the deepest distress," replied she, "to think that the name of M. le Baron de Rebecque Benjamin de Constant has never reached the ears of your royal highness. One of his ancestors saved the life of Henri Quatre. Devoted to the descendants of this good king, he is ready to serve them; and among several constitutions he has in his portfolio, you will probably find one with annotations and reflections by myself, which will suit you. Adopt it, and choose Benjamin Constant to carry out the idea."

It seemed like a thing resolved – an event decided upon – this proposal of inventing a constitution for us. I kept as long as I could upon the defensive; but Madame de Staël, carried away by her zeal and enthusiasm, instead of speaking of what personally concerned herself, knocked me about with arguments, and crushed me under threats and menaces; so, tired to death of entertaining, instead of a clever, humble woman, a roaring politician in petticoats, I finished the audience, leaving her as little satisfied as myself with the interview. Madame de Genlis was ten times less disagreeable, and twenty times more amusing.

That same evening I had M. le Prince de Talleyrand with me, and I was confounded by hearing him say, "So your royal highness has made Madame de Staël completely quarrel with me now?"

"Me! I never so much as pronounced your name."

"Notwithstanding that, she is convinced that I am the person who prevents your royal highness from employing her in your political relations, and that I am jealous of Benjamin Constant. She is resolved on revenge."

"Ha, ha – and what can she do?"

"A very great deal of mischief, monseigneur. She has numerous partisans; and if she declares herself Bonapartiste, we must look to ourselves."

"That would be curious."

"Oh, I shall take upon myself to prevent her going so far; but she will be Royalist no longer, and we shall suffer from that."

At this time I had not the remotest idea what a mere man, still less a mere woman, could do in France; but now I understand it perfectly, and if Madame de Staël was living – Heaven pardon me! – I would strike up a flirtation with her.

THE TWO ROADS

It was New-Year's night. An aged man was standing at a window. He raised his mournful eyes toward the deep-blue sky, where the stars were floating, like white lilies, on the surface of a clear, calm lake. Then he cast them on the earth, where few more hopeless beings than himself now moved toward their certain goal – the tomb. Already he had passed sixty of the stages which lead to it, and he had brought from his journey nothing but errors and remorse. His health was destroyed, his mind vacant, his heart sorrowful, and his old age devoid of comfort. The days of his youth rose up in a vision before him, and he recalled the solemn moment, when his father had placed him at the entrance of two roads, one leading into a peaceful, sunny land, covered with a fertile harvest, and resounding with soft, sweet songs; while the other conducted the wanderer into a deep, dark cave, whence there was no issue, where poison flowed instead of water, and where serpents hissed and crawled.

He looked toward the sky, and cried out in his agony, "O youth, return! O my father, place me once more at the entrance to life, that I may choose the better way!"

But the days of his youth and his father had both passed away. He saw wandering lights floating far away over dark marshes, and then disappear – these were the days of his wasted life. He saw a star fall from heaven, and vanish in darkness. This was an emblem of himself; and the sharp arrows of unavailing remorse struck home to his heart. Then he remembered his early companions, who entered on life with him, but who, having trod the paths of virtue and of labor, were now happy and honored on this New-Year's night. The clock in the high church tower struck, and the sound, falling on his ear, recalled his parents' early love for him, their erring son; the lessons they had taught him; the prayers they had offered up on his behalf. Overwhelmed with shame and grief, he dared no longer look toward that heaven where his father dwelt; his darkened eyes dropped tears, and, with one despairing effort, he cried aloud, "Come back, my early days! come back!"

And his youth did return; for all this was but a dream which visited his slumbers on New-Year's night. He was still young; his faults alone were real. He thanked God, fervently, that time was still his own, that he had not yet entered the deep, dark cavern, but that he was free to tread the road leading to the peaceful land, where sunny harvests wave.

Ye who still linger on the threshold of life, doubting which path to choose, remember that, when years are passed, and your feet stumble on the dark mountain, you will cry bitterly, but cry in vain: "O youth, return! O give me back my early days!"

STORIES OF SHIPWRECK

The Magpie, commanded by Lieutenant Edward Smith, was lost during a hurricane in the West Indies, in 1826. At the moment of the vessel going down, a gunner's mate of the name of Meldrum struck out and succeeded in reaching a pair of oars that were floating in the water; to these he clung, and, having divested himself of a part of his clothing, he awaited, in dreadful anxiety, the fate of his companions. Not a sound met his ear; in vain his anxious gaze endeavored to pierce the gloom, but the darkness was too intense. Minutes appeared like hours, and still the awful silence remained unbroken: he felt, and the thought was agony, that, out of the twenty-four human beings who had so lately trod the deck of the schooner, he alone was left. This terrible suspense became almost beyond the power of endurance; and he already began to envy the fate of his companions, when he heard a voice at no great distance inquiring if there was any one near. He answered in the affirmative; and, pushing out in the direction from whence the sound proceeded, he reached a boat to which seven persons were clinging; among whom was Lieutenant Smith, the commander of the sloop. So far, this was a subject of congratulation; he was no longer alone; but yet the chances of his ultimate preservation were as distant as ever. The boat, which had been placed on the booms of the schooner, had, fortunately, escaped clear of the sinking vessel, and, if the men had waited patiently, was large enough to have saved them all; but the suddenness of the calamity had deprived them of both thought and prudence. Several men had attempted to climb in on one side; the consequence was, the boat heeled over, became half filled with water, and then turned keel uppermost; and, when Meldrum reached her, he found some stretched across the keel, and others hanging on by the sides.

Matters could not last long in this way; and Mr. Smith, seeing the impossibility of any of the party being saved if they continued in their present position, endeavored to bring them to reason, by pointing out the absurdity of their conduct. To the honor of the men, they listened with the same respect to their commander as if they had been on board the schooner; those on the keel immediately relinquished their hold, and succeeded, with the assistance of their comrades, in righting the boat. Two of their number got into her, and commenced baling with their hats, while the others remained in the water, supporting themselves by the gunwales.

Order being restored, their spirits began to revive, and they entertained hopes of escaping from their present peril: but this was of short duration; and the sufferings which they had as yet endured were nothing in comparison with what they had now to undergo. The two men had scarcely commenced baling, when a cry was heard of "A shark! a shark!" No words can describe the consternation which ensued; it is well known the horror sailors have of these voracious animals, who seem apprised, by instinct, when their prey is at hand. All order was at an end; the boat again capsized, and the men were left struggling in the waters. The general safety was neglected, and it was every man for himself; no sooner had one got hold of the boat than he was pushed away by another, and in this fruitless contest more than one life was nearly sacrificed. Even in this terrible hour, their commander remained cool and collected; his voice was still raised in words of encouragement, and, as the dreaded enemy did not make its appearance, he again succeeded in persuading them to renew their efforts to clear the boat. The night had passed away – It was about ten o'clock on the morning of the 28th: the baling had progressed without interruption; a little more exertion, and the boat would have been cleared, when again was heard the cry of "The sharks! the sharks!" But this was no false alarm; the boat a second time capsized, and the unhappy men were literally cast among a shoal of these terrible monsters. The men, for a few minutes, remained uninjured, but not untouched, for the sharks actually rubbed against their victims, and, to use the exact words of one of the survivors, "frequently passed over the boat and between us while resting on the gunwale." This, however, did not last long; a shriek soon told the fate of one of the men: a shark had seized him by the leg, dyeing the water with his blood; another shriek followed, and another man disappeared.

But these facts are almost too horrible to dwell upon; human nature revolts from so terrible a picture; we will, therefore, hurry over this part of our tale.

Smith had witnessed the sufferings of his followers with the deepest distress; and, although aware that, in all probability, he must soon share the same fate, he never for a moment appeared to think of himself. There were but six men left; and these he endeavored to sustain by his example, cheering them on to further exertions. They had, once more, recommenced their labors to clear out the boat, when one of his legs was seized by a shark. Even while suffering the most horrible torture, he restrained the expression of his feelings, for fear of increasing the alarm of the men; but the powers of his endurance were doomed to be tried to the utmost; another limb was scrunched from his body, and, uttering a deep groan, he was about to let go his hold, when he was seized by two of his men, and placed in the stern-sheets.

Yet, when his whole frame was convulsed with agony, the energies of his mind remained as strong as ever; his own pain was disregarded; he thought only of the preservation of his crew. Calling to his side a lad of the name of Wilson, who appeared the strongest of the remaining few, he exhorted him, in the event of his surviving, to inform the admiral that he was going to Cape Ontario, in search of the pirate, when the unfortunate accident occurred. "Tell him," he continued, "that my men have done their duty, and that no blame is attached to them. I have but one favor to ask, and that is, that he will promote Meldrum to be a gunner."

He then shook each man by the hand, and bade them farewell. By degrees his strength began to fail, and at last became so exhausted that he was unable to speak. He remained in this state until the sun set, when another panic seized the men from a re-appearance of the sharks; the boat gave a lurch, and the gallant commander found an end to his sufferings in a watery grave.

The Anson was lost, in 1807, off the coast of France. The ship was no longer an object of consideration; Captain Lydiard felt that he had done his utmost to save her, but in vain, and that now every energy must be put forth for the preservation of human life. The tempest raged with such fury, that no boat could possibly come to their aid, nor could the strongest swimmer hope to gain the shore. It appeared to Captain Lydiard, that the only chance of escape for any of the crew was in running the ship as near the coast as possible. He gave the necessary orders, and the master ran the vessel on the sand which forms the bar between the Loe Pool and the sea, about three miles from Helstone. The tide had been ebbing nearly an hour when she took the ground, and she broached to, leaving her broadside heeling over, and facing the beach.

The scene of horror and confusion which ensued, on the Anson striking against the ground, was one which baffles all description. Many of the men were washed away by the tremendous sea which swept over the deck; many others were killed by the falling of the spars, the crashing sound of which, as they fell from aloft, mingled with the shrieks of the women on board, was heard even amidst the roar of the waters and the howling of the winds. The coast was lined with crowds of spectators, who watched with an intense and painful interest the gradual approach of the ill-fated vessel toward the shore, and witnessed the subsequent melancholy catastrophe.

Calm and undaunted amidst the terrors of the scene, Captain Lydiard is described as displaying, in a remarkable degree, that self-possession and passive heroism which has been so often the proud characteristic of the commander of a British ship-of-war under similar harassing circumstances. Notwithstanding the confusion of the scene, his voice was heard, and his orders were obeyed with that habitual deference which, even in danger and in death, an English seaman rarely fails to accord to his commanding officer. He was the first to restore order, to assist the wounded, to encourage the timid, and to revive expiring hope. Most providentially, when the vessel struck, the mainmast, in falling overboard, served to form a communication between the ship and the shore, and Captain Lydiard was the first to point out this circumstance to the crew. Clinging with his arm to the wheel of the rudder, in order to prevent his being washed overboard by the waves, he continued to encourage one after another as they made the perilous attempt to reach the shore. It was fated that this gallant officer should not enjoy in this world the reward of his humanity and his heroism. After watching with thankfulness the escape of many of his men, and having seen, with horror, many others washed off the mast, in their attempts to reach the land, he was about to undertake the dangerous passage himself, when he was attracted by the cries of a person seemingly in an agony of terror. The brave man did not hesitate for a moment, but turned and made his way to the place whence the cries proceeded. There he found a boy, a protégé of his own, whom he had entered on board the Anson only a few months before, clinging, in despair to a part of the wreck, and without either strength or courage to make the least effort for his own preservation. Captain Lydiard's resolution was instantly taken: he would save the lad if possible, though he might himself perish in the attempt. He threw one arm round the boy, while he cheered him by words of kind encouragement; with the other arm, he clung to the spars and mast to support himself and his burden. But the struggle did not last long; nature was exhausted by the mental and physical sufferings he had endured; he lost his hold, not of the boy, but of the mast, the wild waves swept over them, and they perished together.

JOE SMITH AND THE MORMONS

BY PROF. JAMES F.W. JOHNSTON

In the future history of mankind, if present appearances are to be trusted, the counties of Wayne and Ontario, N.Y., are likely to derive an interest and importance, in the eyes of a numerous body of people, from a circumstance wholly unconnected either with their social progress, or with their natural productions or capabilities. In these counties lie the scenes of the early passages in the life of Joe Smith, the founder of the sect of the Mormons.

Born in December, 1805, in Sharon, Windsor County, State of Vermont, he removed with his father, about 1815, to a small farm in Palmyra, Wayne County, New York, and assisted him on the farm till 1826. He received little education, read indifferently, wrote and spelt badly, knew little of arithmetic, and, in all other branches of learning he was, to the day of his death, exceedingly ignorant.

His own account of his religious progress is, that as early as fifteen years of age he began to have serious ideas regarding the future state, that he got into occasional ecstasies, and that in 1823, during one of these ecstasies, he was visited by an angel, who told him that his sins were forgiven – that the time was at hand when the gospel in its fullness was to be preached to all nations – that the American Indians were a remnant of Israel, who, when they first emigrated to America, were an enlightened people, possessing a knowledge of the true God, and enjoying his favor – that the prophets and inspired writers among them had kept a history or record of their proceedings – that these records were safely deposited – and that, if faithful, he was to be the favored instrument for bringing them to light.