she went so far in her inconsiderate enthusiasm
as to say, that it was a great error in human institutions that the
gentle and quiet Josephine had united her faith with his; that she,
Madame de Stael, and Bonaparte, were born for each other, and that
Nature seemed to have created a soul of fire like hers, in order that it
might worship a hero such as he was.

Bonaparte crushed the letter in his hands, and exclaimed, as he threw it
in the fire: "That a blue-stocking, a manufactress of sentiment, should
dare to compare herself to Josephine! I shall not answer these letters!"

He did not answer them, but Madame de Stael did not, or rather would
not, understand his silence. Little disposed to give up a resolution
once formed, and to see her plans miscarry, Madame de Stael was now also
determined to have her way, and to approach Bonaparte despite his
resistance.

And she did have her way; she succeeded in overcoming all obstacles, and
the interview, so long wished for by her, and so long avoided by him, at
last took place. Madame de Stael was introduced at the Tuileries, and
received by Bonaparte and his wife. The personal appearance of this
intellectual woman was, however, but little calculated to overcome
Bonaparte's prejudice. The costume of Madame de Stael was on this
occasion, as it always was, fantastic, and utterly devoid of taste, and
Napoleon loved to see women simply but elegantly and tastefully attired.
In this interview with Napoleon, Madame de Stael gave free scope to her
wit; but instead of dazzling him, as she had hoped to do, she only
succeeded in depressing him.

It was while in this frame of mind, and when Madame de Stael, in her
ardor, had endeavored almost to force him to pay her a compliment, that
Napoleon responded to her at least somewhat indiscreet question: "Who is
in your eyes the greatest woman?" with the sarcastic reply, "She who
bears the most children to the state."

Madame de Stael had come with a heart full of enthusiasm; in her address
to Napoleon, she had called him a "god descended to earth;" she had come
an enthusiastic poetess; she departed an offended woman. Her wounded
vanity never forgave the answer which seemed to make her ridiculous. She
avenged herself, in her drawing-room, by the biting _bon mots_ which she
hurled at Napoleon and his family, and which were of course faithfully
repeated to the first consul.

But the weapons which this intellectual woman now wielded against the