The sight of Coppet of course instantly brought to mind Gibbon’s early love and her later residence with her unhappy husband (“the past, the present and the future all odious to him”) and their strong-minded daughter, Madame de Staël. In one of Gibbon’s letters he tells of the report that the Necker had purchased the barony of “Copet” and had found the buildings in great disrepair. He added:—“They have now a very troublesome charge ... the disposal of a Baroness. Mademoiselle Necker, one of the greatest heiresses in Europe, is now about eighteen, wild, vain but good-natured and with a much larger provision of wit than beauty; what encreases their difficulties is their religious obstinacy of marrying her only to a Protestant.”
She had chance to display her wit, for their house, whether at Paris or in Switzerland, was always frequented by distinguished public men and writers. In one of her youthful essays speaking of “La Nouvelle Héloïse” she criticizes Julie for continually lecturing Saint-Preux: “A guilty woman may love virtue,” she says, “but she should not prate about it.”
She might have been the wife of William Pitt; the Comte de Guibert (to whom Mademoiselle de l’Espinasse wrote such glowing love-letters and whose marriage to another lady broke her heart) was also regarded as a possibility. But finally the choice fell on the Swedish Baron de Staël-Holstein, who was, in consequence of her dowry, raised to the rank of ambassador, but was more heavily laden with debts than with intellect.
At Coppet, while in exile from her beloved Paris, she wrote her romance “Corinne,” and at Coppet she managed to gather about her that circle of wits and admirers which was so essential to her happiness. The German poet and romanticist, August Wilhelm von Schlegel, lived at Madame de Staël’s château for about fourteen years. Byron visited her there; so did George Ticknor of Boston. But Switzerland exercised no spell on Madame de Staël and interesting as her love-affairs are, especially her long liaison with Benjamin Constant de Rebecque, whose cant name was “La Fausseté,” just as Madame de Montolieu’s was “Le Tourbillon” and Gibbon’s was “Neptune” or her secret marriage with the handsome youth Albert de Rocca, she was only, as it were, a prisoner in sight of the Alps and yearning for her beloved Paris.
Sainte-Beuve, who was for a time a professor at Lausanne, gives a brilliant account of the society which gathered in her salon. He says:—
“What the sojourn at Ferney was for Voltaire, the life at Coppet was for Madame de Staël, but with a more romantic halo round her, it seems to us, more of the grandeur and pomp of life. Both reigned in their exile; Voltaire, in his low flat plain, his secluded, poverty-stricken castle, with a view of despoiled, unshaded gardens, scorned and derided. The influence of Coppet is quite different; it is that of Jean-Jacques continued, ennobled, installed, and reigning amid the same associations as his rival. Coppet counterbalances Ferney, half dethrones it.
“We also, of this younger generation, judge Ferney by comparing it with Coppet, coming down from Coppet. The beauty of its site, the woods which shadow it, the sex of its poet, the air of enthusiasm we breathe there, the elegant company, the glorious names, the walks by the lake, the mornings in the park, the mysteries and the inevitable storms which we surmise, all contribute to idealize the place for us. Coppet is the Elysium which every disciple of Jean-Jacques would gladly give to the mistress of his dreams....
“The literary and philosophical conversations, always high-toned, clever and witty, began as early as eleven in the morning, when all met at breakfast; and were carried on again at dinner, and in the interval between dinner and supper, which was at eleven at night, and often as late as midnight. Benjamin Constant and Madame de Staël engrossed the conversation.... Their intellects were in accord; they always understood each other.
“But we must not suppose that everyone there was always either sentimental or solemn; very often they were simply gay; Corinne had days of abandon, when she resembled the signora Fantastici. Plays were often acted at Coppet, dramas and tragedies, or the chivalric pieces of Voltaire, ‘Zaïre’ and ‘Tancrède,’ favourites of Madame de Staël’s; or plays composed expressly by her or her friends. These latter were sometimes printed at Paris, so that the parts might more easily be learned; the interest taken in such messages was very keen; and when in the interval some important correction was thought of, a courier was hurried off, and sometimes a second to catch him up, and modify the correction already en route. The poetry of Europe was represented at Coppet by many celebrated men. Zacharias Werner, one of the originators of that court, whose ‘Attila’ and other dramas were played with a considerable addition of German ladies, wrote about this time (1809) to Counsellor Schneffer:—