Madame de Staël, I shall never forget seeing her one day, at table with
a large party, when the busk (I believe you ladies call it) of her
corset forced its way through the top of the corset, and would not
descend though pushed by all the force of both hands of the wearer, who
became crimson from the operation. After fruitless efforts, she turned
in despair to the valet de chambre behind her chair, and requested him
to draw it out, which could only be done by his passing his hand from
behind over her shoulder, and across her chest, when, with a desperate
effort, he unsheathed the busk. Had you seen the faces of some of the
English ladies of the party, you would have been like me, almost
convulsed; while Madame remained perfectly unconscious that she had
committed any solecism on _la décence Anglaise_. Poor Madame de Staël
verified the truth of the lines--

"Qui de son sexe n'a pas l'esprit,
De son sexe a tout le malheur."

She _thought_ like a man, but, alas! she _felt_ like a woman; as witness
the episode in her life with Monsieur Rocca, which she dared not avow,
(I mean her marriage with him,) because she was more jealous of her
reputation as a writer than a woman, and the faiblesse de coeur, this
alliance proved she had not courage to _affiche_.--_New Monthly Mag._

* * * * *



THE TOPOGRAPHER.