'You know that the Duke of Wellington was to visit her this evening for the first time. I went in good time; she was not yet in the room: several others were also waiting—such as the Abbé de Pradt, Benjamin Constant, La Fayette. They were conversing; I remained in one corner, as if listening to them.... At length Mme de Staël came in. "I am late," she said; "but it is not my fault. I was invited to dine at——, and was obliged to go." A great many of the guests were come: all were looking for the hero of the evening—we had seen him only as part of a show, now we wanted to hear him converse. At length he entered. The nobleness of his figure and simplicity of his manners produced a most agreeable impression on us. His pride, as it ought, has nearly the grace of timidity. Mme de Staël, impressed by a style and manner so little like that of our countrymen, said: "He carries his glory as if it were a nothing." Then, by a quick recall of patriotism, she whispered in my ear: "One must admit, however, that nature never made a great man at less expense." It seemed to me that the whole man was portrayed in these brief remarks.
'You would suppose, after this début, that we had a very pleasant evening: you shall judge. The Duke had not reached the end of the salon, when the Abbé de Pradt fastened on him, and actually forced him to listen for at least three-quarters of an hour, while he expressed his ideas—the ideas of the Abbé de Pradt!—upon military tactics. Conceive the wrath of Mme de Staël, and the annoyance of everybody there! M. Schlegel said, that he could fancy he was listening to that rhetorician who pronounced a discourse on the art of war to Hannibal.
'This remark did not make amends for the nuisance of hearing in good French what we all knew before, when what we wanted was to listen to new things, in a foreign accent. Among the very few words which the English general was allowed to put in, I caught one sentence which struck me. While the abbé took breath, or coughed, the warrior had just time to tell us, that the most awful day in the life of a commander is that in which he has gained a battle; because, before having passed a night on the ground, and being assured on the morrow of the departure of the enemy, the conqueror cannot even know whether he is not conquered.
'Everything has its cost in this world, and if every man told us his secret, we should see that the most dazzling triumphs are paid for at their full price. However that may be, I thought there was sense and good taste in the Duke's remark. It seemed as if he tried to make us forgive him for exciting our curiosity so much.
'Many people went away discouraged by the bad manners of M. de Pradt. The hero himself was thinking of a retreat, when Mme de Staël came to release him from the ambuscade into which he had fallen. She retained him near the door, and there was a grave conversation on the English constitution. Mme de Staël could not reconcile the idea of political liberty, with the prevalence of servile forms remaining in the individual relationships of a society so jealous of that liberty as England.
'"Language and aristocratic customs do not annoy people living in a country that is really free," said the Duke. "We use these unimportant formulæ in compliment to the past, and preserve our ceremonies as we keep a memorial, even when it has lost its primitive destination."
'"But is it true," asked Mme de Staël, "that your lord chancellor speaks to the king on his bended knee during the opening address or sitting of parliament?"
'"Yes; quite true."
'"How does he do it?"
'"He speaks to him kneeling, as I have told you."