This conversation, Duroc informed me, had continued the whole time of breakfast, and the Emperor rose just as he pronounced these last words:  “Every one should keep right in politics.”  At that moment young De Stael again renewed his solicitations for his mother’s recall from exile.  Bonaparte then stepped up to him and pinched his ear with that air of familiarity which was customary to him when he was in good humour or wished to appear so.

“You are young,” said he; “if you had my age and experience you would judge of things more correctly.  I am far from being displeased with your frankness.  I like to see a son plead his mother’s cause.  Your mother has given you a difficult commission, and you have executed it cleverly.  I am glad I have had this opportunity of conversing with you.  I love to talk with young people when they are unassuming and not too fond of arguing.  But in spite of that I will not hold out false hopes to you.  Murat has already spoken to me on the subject, and I have told him, as I now tell you, that my will is irrevocable.  If your mother were in prison I should not hesitate to liberate her, but nothing shall induce me to recall her from exile.”—­“But, Sire, is she not as unhappy in being banished from her country and her friends as if she were in prison?”—­ “Oh! these are your mother’s romantic ideas.  She is exceedingly unhappy, and much to be pitied, no doubt! . . .  With the exception of Paris she has all Europe for her prison.”—­“But, Sire, her friends are in Paris.”—­“With her talents she may make friends anywhere.  After all, I cannot understand why she should be so anxious to come to Paris.  Why should she wish to place herself immediately within the reach of my tyranny?  Can she not go to Rome, to Berlin, to Vienna, to Milan, or to London?  Yes, let her go to London; that is the place for her.  There she may libel me as much as she pleases.  In short, she has my full liberty to be anywhere but in Paris.  You see, Monsieur de Stael, that is the place of my residence, and there I will have only those who are attached to me.  I know from experience that if I were to allow your mother to come to Paris she would spoil everybody about me.  She would finish the spoiling of Garat.  It was she who ruined the Tribunate.  I know she would promise wonders; but she cannot refrain from meddling with politics.”—­“I can assure your Majesty that my mother does not now concern herself about politics.  She devotes herself exclusively to the society of her friends and to literature.”—­“Ah, there it is! . . .  Literature!  Do you think I am to be imposed upon by that word?  While discoursing on literature, morals, the fine arts, and such matters, it is easy to dabble in politics.  Let women mind their knitting.  If your mother were in Paris I should hear all sorts of reports about her.  Things might, indeed, be falsely attributed to her; but, be that as it may, I will have nothing of the kind going on in the capital in which I reside.