soul will recognize nothing for
opinion to hold sacred; he admits only respect for the force which
is in existence. Prince Louis wrote to me, beginning his note in
these words, "The person called Louis of Prussia begs to know of
Madame de Stael, &c." He felt the insult offered to the royal blood
from which he sprung, to the recollection of the heroes, in the roll
of whom he burned to place his name. How was it possible, after this
horrible action, for a single monarch in Europe to connect himself
with such a man? Necessity, will it be said? There is a sanctuary in
the soul to which his empire never ought to penetrate; if there were
not, what would virtue be upon this earth? a mere liberal amusement
which could only suit the peaceful leisure of private individuals.

A lady of my acquaintance related to me, that a few days after the
death of the Duke d'Enghien, she went to take a walk round the
castle of Vincennes; the ground, still fresh, marked the spot where
he had been buried; some children were playing with little quoits
upon this mound of turf, the only monument for the ashes of such a
man. An old invalid, with silvered locks, was sitting at a little
distance, and remained some time looking at these children; at last
he arose, and leading them away by the hand, said to them, shedding
some tears, "Do not play there, my children, I beseech you." These
tears were all the honors that were paid to the descendant of the
great Conde, and the earth did not long bear the impression of them.

For a moment at least, public opinion seemed to awaken in France,
and indignation, was general. But when these generous flames were
extinguished, despotism was but the more easily established, from
the vain efforts which had been made to resist it. The first consul
was for some days rather uneasy at the disposition of men's minds.
Fouche himself blamed this action; he made use of this expression,
so characteristic of the present regime: "It is worse than a crime;
it is a fault." There are many ideas in this short phrase; but
fortunately we may reverse it with truth, by affirming that the
greatest of faults is crime. Bonaparte asked an honest senator, what
was thought of the death of the Duke d'Enghien. "General," replied
he, "it has given great affliction." "I am not astonished at it,"
said Bonaparte, "a house which has long reigned in a country always
interests:" thus wishing to connect with motives of party interest
the most natural