the trembling expectation of finding her dead or dying
in some Alpine hovel. But the favour of fate and a stout heart brought
her safe to Chambery, where shortly afterwards she was joined by her
husband. The authorities vainly tendered him the oath, vainly bade him
inscribe his name on the register of citizens; and when they asked him
for a contribution to support the war, he replied curtly that he did not
give money to kill his brothers in the service of the King of Sardinia.
As soon as his wife was delivered of their third child, whom he was
destined not to see again for nearly twenty years, he quitted her side,
abandoned his property and his country, and took refuge at Lausanne,
where in time his wife and his two eldest children once more came to
him.

Gibbon tells us how a swarm of emigrants, escaping from the public ruin,
was attracted by the vicinity, the manners, and the language of
Lausanne. 'They are entitled to our pity,' he reflected, 'and they may
claim our esteem, but they cannot in their present state of mind and
fortune contribute much to our amusement. Instead of looking down as
calm and idle spectators on the theatre of Europe, our domestic harmony
is somewhat embittered by the infusion of party spirit.' Gibbon died in
London almost at the very moment that De Maistre arrived at Lausanne,
but his account of things remained true, and political feuds continued
to run as high as ever. Among the people with whom De Maistre was thrown
was Madame de Stael. 'As we had not been to the same school,' he says,
'either in theology or in politics, we had some scenes enough to make
one die of laughter; still without quarrelling. Her father, who was then
alive, was the friend and relative of people that I love with all my
heart, and that I would not vex for all the world. So I allowed the
_emigres_ who surrounded us to cry out as they would, without ever
drawing the sword.' De Maistre thought he never came across a head so
completely turned wrong as Madame de Stael's, the infallible
consequence, as he took it to be, of modern philosophy operating upon a
woman's nature. He once said of her: 'Ah! if Madame de Stael had been
Catholic, she would have been adorable, instead of famous.' We can
believe that his position among the French _emigres_ was not
particularly congenial. For though they hated the Revolution, they had
all drunk of the waters of the eighteenth century philosophy, and De
Maistre hated this philosophy wors