of courtesy, wisdom, knowledge, and sweetness." She is always
spoken of in the chronicles of her time as a loyal wife, a devoted
mother, the benefactor of the suffering, and the sympathetic adviser
of authors and artists. The poet Segrais says: "She was amiable and
gracious, of a sound and just mind; it is she who has corrected the bad
customs which prevailed before her. She taught politeness to all those
of her time who frequented her house. She was also a good friend, and
kind to every one." We are told that she was beautiful, but we know only
that her face was fair and delicate, her figure tall and graceful, and
her manner stately and dignified. Her Greek love of beauty expressed
itself in all her appointments. The unique and original architecture of
her hotel,--which was modeled after her own designs,--the arrangement of
her salon, the pursuits she chose, and the amusements she planned, were
all a part of her own artistic nature. This was shown also in her code
of etiquette, which imposed a fine courtesy upon the members of her
coterie, and infused into life the spirit of politeness, which one of
her countrymen has called the "flower of humanity." But this esthetic
quality was tempered with a clear judgment, and a keen appreciation of
merit and talent, which led her to gather into her society many not "to
the manner born." Sometimes she delicately aided a needy man of letters
to present a respectable appearance--a kindness much less humiliating
in those days of patronage that it would be today. As may readily be
imagined, these new elements often jarred upon the tastes and prejudices
of her noble guests, but in spite of this it was considered an honor to
be received by her, and, though not even a duchess, she was visited by
princesses.

Adding to this spirit of noble independence the prestige of rank,
beauty, and fortune; a temper of mingled sweetness and strength;
versatile gifts controlled by an admirable reason; a serene and tranquil
character; a playful humor, free from the caprices of a too exacting
sensibility; a perfect savoir-faire, and we have the unusual combination
which enabled her to hold her sway for so many years, without a word of
censure from even the most scandal-loving of chroniclers.

"We have sought in vain," writes Cousin, "for that which is rarely
lacking in any life of equal or even less brilliancy, some calumny or
scandal, an equivocal word, or the lightest epigram. We have found only
a con