She dedicated her _Réflexions sur le Suicide_ to the Prince in a very complimentary preface, in which she compared herself and her children as seeking his protection in the same way as Arabian Shepherds take shelter from a storm “under a laurel”; and went on to assure him that his public life had been signalized by all the virtues which claim the admiration of thinkers, and she encouraged him to persevere and remind the world of that which it had entirely forgotten, namely, that the highest reason teaches virtue. In contrast to all this praise, it is piquant to learn that Bernadotte—like so many other practically-minded people—had his little grumble at his illustrious guest, and talked of the “inconceivable preoccupation with self,” which by this time had led Madame de Staël to see in every political move of Napoleon the beginning of some new measure against herself. Her oft-professed anxiety about her sons’ future was allayed by the Prince Royal’s offer to interest himself in Auguste’s diplomatic career, while Albert was to enter the Swedish army. One might wonder why this obvious solution of her difficulties had not presented itself sooner to Madame de Staël, were it not evident that she had consciously or unconsciously made the most of every circumstance which could heighten the apparent hardship of her lot. CHAPTER XIII. ENGLAND AGAIN. After quitting Sweden Madame de Staël went to England. Some eighteen years or so had passed since she had wept in the lanes at Mickleham at the thought of separating from the charming colony at Juniper Hall. Her heart was still almost as young as in those days; the vivid flame of enthusiasm for all that was good still burnt as brightly in her soul. If her spiritual horizon had widened, and a fervent if rather vague religious sentiment had succeeded to her unquestioning faith in men—that was almost all the change in her. For her nature was a singularly homogeneous one, and growth, while widening and deepening it, did not render it more complex. Her reception in English society was marked by all the enthusiasm which we are accustomed to lavish on illustrious foreigners. She was mobbed at routs and assemblies, and ladies mounted on chairs and tables to stare at her. She took up her abode at 30, Argyll Place, Regent Street, a house now a bathing establishment. It was here that she received the mixed but brilliant society which Byron declared reminded him of the grave, inasmuch as all distinctions were levelled in it!