eville pronounced an exquisite eulogy by the grave of
Ballanche, in the name of the Academy. La Prade, in the funeral
address he delivered at Lyons, the birthplace of the deceased, said,
"There was in his mind, in its serenity, its charming simplicity, its
tenderness, something more than is found in the wisest and the best.
His virtue was of a divine nature: it was at once a prolonged
innocence and an acquired wisdom. Serene and radiant as his soul may
now be in the mansions of peace, we can hardly conceive of it as more
loving and more pure than we beheld it on this earth of infirmity and
of strife." What a delight it is to contemplate the relation that
bound two such spirits together, the measureless treasures of
inspiration, solace, joy, it must have yielded to them both I Sarah
Austin, who was in Paris at the time Ballanche died, and an intimate
of the illustrious circle of friends, says, "I shall never forget the
sort of consternation, mingled with sorrow, which this death caused.
Everybody felt regret for so pure and excellent a man, but yet more
of grief and pity for Madame Recamier, whose loss was felt to be
overwhelming, and entirely irreparable." Ampere says, in his cordial
and glowing memoir of Ballanche, "While he was composing his
'Antigone,' Poetry appeared to him under an enchanting form. He
became acquainted with her, of whom he said that the charm of her
presence laid his sorrows to sleep; who, after being the soul of his
most elevated and delicate inspirations, became in later years the
providence of every moment of his life." Ballanche himself often
assured Madame Recamier, that the ideal of the "Antigone" of his
dreams was revealed to him by her, and that, in drawing this perfect
portrait, he had copied largely from her. "It was only through
Eurydice," he writes, "that Orpheus had any mission for his brother-
men. If my name survives me, as appears more and more probable, I
shall be called the Philosopher of the Abbaye-aux-Bois, and my
philosophy will be considered as inspired by you. This thought is my
joy. I am now entering on the last stage of my life: however
prolonged this stage may be, I know well what is at the end of it. I
shall fall asleep in the bosom of a great hope, full of confidence
that your memory and mine will live the same life." Fortunate
friends! happy in their living union immaculate as heaven, happy in
the grateful admiration and love of all fit souls who shall ever read
of them