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Front Page arrow Titles (by Subject) arrow TO MADAME SWETCHINE. - Memoir, Letters, and Remains of Alexis de Tocqueville, vol. 2

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Subject Area: Political Theory

TO MADAME SWETCHINE. - Alexis de Tocqueville, Memoir, Letters, and Remains of Alexis de Tocqueville, vol. 2 [1861]

Edition used:

Memoir, Letters, and Remains of Alexis de Tocqueville. Translated from the French by the translator of Napoleon’s Correspondence with King Joseph. With large Additions. In Two Volumes (London: Macamillan, 1861). 2 vols.

Part of: Memoir, Letters, and Remains of Alexis de Tocqueville, 2 vols.

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TO MADAME SWETCHINE.

I fear, Madame, that I am guilty of indiscretion in writing to you without having first obtained your permission. I had no other means of hearing of you, for all our mutual friends have quitted Paris. Your kindness to me has made me bold and ought to plead my excuse. I beg of you to do more than pardon me. Let me hear from yourself the state of your health, in which your friends take such a tender interest, and which is of consequence even to those who, though they as yet cannot lay claim to that title, have had the opportunity of knowing you, and are capable of appreciating you. I think I may say that I am one of the latter class, and my anxiety is no empty form, but the expression of a real feeling. You, Madame, belong to the few who inspire both respect and confidence; two sentiments which are not always found together, though they harmonize so well. The first time I saw you, I felt both; and after spending only a few minutes in your society, I felt inclined to open my heart to you with the unreserve which is in general only the result of time and experience.

Though two months have passed since I quitted Paris, I reached this place only three weeks ago. It is an intense pleasure to me, after my long absence, to find myself here once more. Besides its real advantages, this little spot is for me full of recollections of the best years in my life, and the invisible portion of my being which is connected with all around me, lends to every object a charm which exists only for me. The trees, the fields, the sea, all seem to wear a different aspect here than elsewhere.

But, Madame, I find that I am talking of myself while you were to have been the subject of this letter. I return then to its real object by entreating you again to let me hear from you. . . .