ty; or indeed do anything, but consume his wages; attain
'a place in History,' where as an ineffectual shadow thou beholdest him
still lingering;--and let the duty manage itself. Did Genevese Necker
possess such a Purse, then? He possessed banker's skill, banker's
honesty; credit of all kinds, for he had written Academic Prize Essays,
struggled for India Companies, given dinners to Philosophes, and
'realised a fortune in twenty years.' He possessed, further, a
taciturnity and solemnity; of depth, or else of dulness. How singular
for Celadon Gibbon, false swain as he had proved; whose father, keeping
most probably his own gig, 'would not hear of such a union,'--to find
now his forsaken Demoiselle Curchod sitting in the high places of
the world, as Minister's Madame, and 'Necker not jealous!' (Gibbon's
Letters: date, 16th June, 1777, &c.)

A new young Demoiselle, one day to be famed as a Madame and De Stael,
was romping about the knees of the Decline and Fall: the lady Necker
founds Hospitals; gives solemn Philosophe dinner-parties, to cheer her
exhausted Controller-General. Strange things have happened: by
clamour of Philosophism, management of Marquis de Pezay, and Poverty
constraining even Kings. And so Necker, Atlas-like, sustains the burden
of the Finances, for five years long? (Till May, 1781.) Without wages,
for he refused such; cheered only by Public Opinion, and the ministering
of his noble Wife. With many thoughts in him, it is hoped;--which,
however, he is shy of uttering. His Compte Rendu, published by the royal
permission, fresh sign of a New Era, shows wonders;--which what but
the genius of some Atlas-Necker can prevent from becoming portents? In
Necker's head too there is a whole pacific French Revolution, of its
kind; and in that taciturn dull depth, or deep dulness, ambition enough.

Meanwhile, alas, his Fotunatus' Purse turns out to be little other than
the old 'vectigal of Parsimony.' Nay, he too has to produce his scheme
of taxing: Clergy, Noblesse to be taxed; Provincial Assemblies, and the
rest,--like a mere Turgot! The expiring M. de Maurepas must gyrate one
other time. Let Necker also depart; not unlamented.

Great in a private station, Necker looks on from the distance; abiding
his time. 'Eighty thousand copies' of his new Book, which he calls
Administration des Finances, will be sold in few days. He is gone; but
shall return, and that more than once, borne by a whole shouting Nation.
Singular C