sness and convalescence by loving care, which enabled him to
reach Madrid, and ultimately Geneva, where, in the radiance of
youthful infatuation, he rode with reckless energy down a risky steep
part of the city, so that he might pass the window of the lady, who
was more than old enough to be his mother, and in a few months was to
be made his wife. A child was born to them in 1812, and in order to
save its legitimacy, she acknowledged the marriage to a few, but it
was not generally known until after her death that Rocca was her
lawful husband. Conscious, and sensitive no doubt, that it was not
quite natural for old women to marry young men, she prudently had the
event kept secret. The young husband did not only possess tender
affection for her, but he combined chivalrous ambitions which made the
romance additionally attractive.

Be it remembered that Benjamin Constant was a former lover of Madame
de Stael. The young bridegroom, following a natural instinct, had a
great dislike to Benjamin, and took an opportunity of really small
provocation to challenge him to a duel, which, owing to wiser
counsels, was never fought. There does not seem to have been very much
to fight a duel about. Constant had a quarrel with his father in which
he involved Madame de Stael, and Rocca resented it like a gallant
youthful husband, who was at that stage when it is thought desirable
to shoot or otherwise kill somebody, in order to show the extent of
his devotion to his enchantress. Rocca had hoped to die (so he said)
before her, but fate willed that he should linger on and suffer for
six months more. Madame de Stael slept peacefully into her last long
sleep on July 14, 1817.

Her career was chequered and restless. She had influence, which she
used oft-times recklessly, and led less gifted people than herself
into committing needless errors. She wrote and spoke with a wit and
sarcasm which charmed all but those at whom it was directed. Her
bitter rebuffs and severe trials were mainly of her own making. For
the most part she wrote with superficial feeling and without real
soul. During the Napoleonic regime, time was a creeping horror to her,
but she found pleasure in the thought that it was a torture to her
suffering heart. George Eliot knew and used her extraordinary power;
Madame de Stael wasted hers. Nevertheless she had many friends who
loved her society. Wellington was brought under her influence. Byron,
who shrank from her at first, say