MIRABEAU.

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more humble, and very ready to acknowledge hisfaults. Sophie, also, with that generous ardour ofdisposition that was at once the cause and excuse ofher actions, wrote to the marquis, taking all the faultof their attachment and flight on herself. Even theold economist felt the nobleness of her conduct.

The affair, however, still lagged. M. de Marignauedetested his. son-in-law. It was the interest of therelations around to prevent the reunion of husband andwife: the countess was a weak and timid woman;she resolved never to disobey, she feared to offendher father ; and besides, living as she did, in the midstof ease, luxury, pleasure, and freedom, she had nowish to return to a life of penury with a husband whomshe no longer loved. Often, therefore, while receivingharsh letters from his uncle, Mirabeau was ready tosink under multiplied delays. He tried to cheat timeby occupation; he gave himself up to study — helearnt Greek, English, Italian, Spanish — translated aportion of Tacitus — and this, in spite of failing eyesand ruined health.

Another event, sad to a parent’s heart, and deeply May,lamented by Mirabeau, happened to facilitatefreedom. His child, the daughter of Sophie, died ofa fever of dentition : this event acted as a spur to themarquis. He permitted his only child with whom hewas on friendly terms, madame du Saillant, to corre-spond with her brother, dictating her letters, and read-ing the replies — he allowed (for no step was takenexcept by his permission, and even suggestion,) hisson-in-law, M. du Saillant, to offer to become hissurety. And, at last, after many disappointments anddelays, he gave the signal, and the prison gates wereopened.

It was impossible to avoid giving the details of this un- Dec.fortunate portion of Mirabeau’s life. Forty-one months IS.spent in a dungeon forms too important an epoch in aman’s existence for a biographer to pass it over; or to 3Jshun the detail of the causes and effects. Forty-one