Germaine de Staël: An Essay in Demythologization
I once spoke in this post about how the memory of Olympe de Gouges has been instrumentalized and how it has overshadowed many other women of the Revolution—some of whom were even more famous than she was. I also mentioned the flaws in her historical portrayal that are rarely discussed, and @mathildeaquisexta enriched my post with some excellent additional information.
Now, I would like to talk about a far more problematic female figure in my view—one who has overshadowed other women who opposed Bonaparte: Germaine de Staël.
Often portrayed as one of the few who dared to stand up to Bonaparte—a woman of integrity, political genius, and rare courage, sometimes even described as a feminist—it is time to take a closer look at the flaws of this historical figure.
As for that last claim, I can confidently say it is false. Here is what she wrote about women:
“One is right to exclude women from political and civil affairs; nothing is more contrary to their natural vocation than anything that would put them in rivalry with men, and glory itself can only ever be, for a woman, a resplendent form of mourning for happiness.”
In this, her thinking is actually closer to that of certain women of the French Revolution such as Madame Roland and Louise de Kéralio—with the important difference that Germaine de Staël was much more conservative than they were, and far less engaged in the Revolution itself. Roland and Kéralio firmly supported the Republic, whereas Staël, even when King Louis XVI ruled as a constitutional monarch, found his powers too limited despite his veto power and even approved of the Champ-de-Mars massacre.
I do not question Madame de Staël’s ideological motivations—after all, many revolutionary women showed great courage and devotion, even if they did not advocate for women’s rights. But it is important to restore the truth about her stance. As historian Godechot observed, “she protested little and only vaguely against the inequality between men and women enshrined in the Napoleonic Code.” It is safe to say she was very far from being an advocate for women’s rights.
A political genius and a woman of incorruptible virtue? Not necessarily—she made some serious mistakes. No one is perfect, of course, but they should be acknowledged. While she was quick to grasp that Bonaparte would go far, she did not foresee all that he would do. I agree with historian Michel Winock, who pointed out that while Benjamin Constant and Staël did not take part in the Coup of 18 Brumaire, they were close to some of its key participants, including Sieyès, who sought to strengthen the executive branch and draft a new constitution.
Staël welcomed the coup of Brumaire—though she would later lie about her feelings, claiming:
“Undoubtedly, the majority of honest people, fearing the return of the Jacobins, wished General Bonaparte to prevail. My own sentiment, I confess, was deeply mixed. Once the struggle had begun, a temporary Jacobin victory could have led to bloodshed; yet, at the thought of Bonaparte’s triumph, I felt a pain that I might call prophetic.”
We have proof that she lied about this. Her father, Necker, wrote to his daughter about that very event, speaking of “your joy, your satisfaction,” and a month later referring to “your enthusiasm for Bonaparte” and saying, “I congratulate you on being happy about his glory.”
Contrary to what has often been claimed, the Republic was not as threatened as people liked to believe before the Coup of Brumaire. As historian Annie Jourdan noted in one of her works on France shortly before Bonaparte’s rise to power:
“By August, France could finally breathe. The grand royalist plan had failed. The expected junction never happened. The scattered royalist uprisings throughout the Republic were supposed to erupt at a strategic moment: during the foreign invasion. But because they failed to wait for the right time—which never actually came, since the Directory ultimately managed to repel its enemies on all fronts—the royalist plot ended in crushing failure, sacrificing thousands of men for a cause that peasants and city dwellers alike were increasingly abandoning, worn out by never-ending unrest. These undeniable victories contradicted the slanders accumulating that autumn against the Directors—slanders that many historians would later repeat. Even before Bonaparte returned from Egypt, France had already resolved most of its domestic problems. The Directory was not on its deathbed, though it remained, as always, divided.In early September 1799, reassuring news about the external situation finally reached Paris. By then, the Executive Directory and its new Minister of Police, Joseph Fouché, had already taken action against the democratic republicans—the so-called neo-Jacobins. Public opinion, it was said, feared these political gatherings and wished the government would put an end to these 'assemblies of tigers.' At least that’s what the police bulletins reported—though they may have reflected the expectations of the government more than the general public(...). But perhaps it was also because, with the worst dangers behind them, the Directory believed it could do without the support of the left and finally implement what Sieyès had agreed to become Director for: to revise the Constitution. From that moment on, the offensive was launched.By the end of its tenure, the Directory was victorious on nearly every front—except in Italy, where the young republics were occupied by the Allies. In Europe, it had defeated the Second Coalition; in France, it had crushed the royalist movements. The legislative councils, for their part, were working to republicanize the people and improve their comfort and education. But the harmony achieved after 30 Prairial Year VII began to unravel. The laws passed by the Councils shocked moderates, the Directors themselves, and also the wealthy, bankers, and speculators. Whether it was the Hostage Law of July 13, 1799, the forced loan of 100 million francs, conscription, or the mass mobilization of all classes that year—these measures revived memories of Year II and the burdens of the Revolution. Fear intensified further on September 13, when there was talk of declaring the patrie en danger—the homeland in danger. This too closely recalled the 'people rising up' in the summer of 1792. It evoked the revolutionary days of 1793 and everything that haunted the memories of both old and new republicans. According to a Prussian observer, the Hostage Law and the forced loan were poorly received by the French public. The former, he said, threatened 'society itself with imminent collapse,' and the latter would 'destroy all business and ruin the state.' The wealthiest tried to evade these measures: for instance, the financier Collot, who was taxed 200,000 francs, abruptly left Paris—he would have paid no more than 50,000. Only the banker Perregaux agreed to pay the full amount without protest—and was viewed unfavorably by his peers for his generosity. On that point, at least, 1799 looked very different from the earlier revolutionary years. The spirit of sacrifice had vanished. As a result, the forced loan of 100 million did not raise the expected amount—but it did terrify the “gens de bien” (respectable citizens), who were now eager to rid the legislature of its Jacobins.”
The excerpt speaks for itself. In reality, the great property owners and influential bankers (at least some of them) feared the measures proposed by Robert Lindet, who was then Minister of Finance, particularly his plan for a forced loan on large estates — a measure later annulled by Bonaparte once he came to power. These facts are also confirmed by historians Bernard Gainot and Antoine Resche.
However, according to several historians and biographers, she supported a property-based (censitary) suffrage. Jacques Godechot described her as follows:
“Germaine de Staël sees the Revolution from above, never from below. She ignores the peasants and artisans who made up 90% of the French population at the time. For her, equality is limited to equal rights between the upper bourgeoisie and the nobility. Property must be the foundation of the regime. The liberty to which she proclaims such deep attachment, she conceives only in limited terms. She accepts freedom of the press only for books, not for newspapers. Religious freedom, in her view, should allow for the expansion of Protestantism in France; she believed that this religion was best suited to a Republic.”
I mostly agree with what he wrote, since her republicanism appeared quite late — after all, she had approved of the shooting at the Champ-de-Mars. Godechot also provides another very interesting passage:
“She (Germaine de Staël) accommodated herself quite well to the censitary regime (…). Moreover, her contemporaries were under no illusions regarding the democratic nature of Mme de Staël’s ideas. Thus La Harpe wrote to Tsar Alexander I on April 3, 1804: ‘She is a woman of great wit, but consumed by ambition. Her friend Benjamin Constant […] and she long played at being democrats in France, while in Switzerland they made common cause with our former oppressors.’”
Moreover, I cannot ignore her financial motivations, which were far from disinterested. She was constantly trying to recover the two million francs — was she not afraid that, with the Jacobins’ proposed financial laws, she might lose that sum? I have already expressed my thoughts on Necker and this loan here; suffice it to say that if Necker had not obstructed a man more competent than himself in economic matters — namely Turgot — he would not have needed to make that loan.
It should also be remembered that the neo-Jacobins never called for their opponents to be guillotined. The speech of one of them, the famous Victor Bach, was deliberately distorted, even though he merely said:
“Yes, guilty as you may be, Reubell, Merlin, and all of you legislators, directors, or ministers who may be their accomplices! I do not wish for your death, but rather that you be condemned to sweep the streets of Paris, dressed in those grand costumes that gave you the pride, greed, and cruelty of the kings you sought to imitate.”
Therefore, given her first-hand access to information, I do not believe she could truly have thought that they would reintroduce the guillotine. Moreover, this woman had supported the repression of the insurrection of 1 Prairial, Year III, which shows that she could overcome her supposed horror of the guillotine whenever it suited her.
Her political relationship with Paul Barras is also troubling, considering both his actions at Toulon (she, who condemned the Terror) and his well-known corruption.
As for her political judgment, it was often lacking. Godechot writes of her:
“According to Mme de Staël, things began to go wrong in France when Necker resigned on September 5, 1790. (…) To regain the political influence she longed for, she turned to the press: Germaine wrote. On April 16, 1791, she published her first article in Suard’s short-lived newspaper Les Indépendants: it sought to determine ‘by what signs one can recognize the opinion of the majority of the Nation.’ In fact, the author wished to demonstrate that the Jacobins did not represent this majority. Mme de Staël failed to grasp the deep forces at work in the Nation; she believed the Revolution could be limited to a few superficial reforms, ignored the will of the masses, and sided with the monarchiens.”
She did not declare herself a republican until several years later.
The fact that she condemned the Prairial insurrection of Year III — an uprising by Parisians protesting the end of price controls amid widespread misery — yet approved of Bonaparte using the army to carry out a coup d’État, shows clearly that she was far from being the democratic icon some modern media have tried to make of her.
Was it really a surprise that she failed to see Bonaparte’s authoritarian nature, so contrary to the liberties she claimed to defend? Figures like Marat had long foreseen that such a thing would happen if a military man were allowed too much power. Men like Antonelle, Xavier Audouin, Buonarroti, Babeuf, and many others predicted this outcome — especially in Bonaparte’s case — but she did not? Her judgment was clearly inferior to theirs.
Winock also notes about Mme de Staël:
“On July 4, she praised the ‘wonders of Italy’ in reference to the victory at Marengo. The tone would be very different in Ten Years of Exile: ‘I wished Bonaparte to be defeated, because that was the only way to put an end to his tyranny.’ It is true that she added: ‘But I did not dare to confess this wish.’ At the very least, she was not obliged to sing the praises of the ‘hero’s wonders.’ Her bad faith was probably equal to her discomfort.”
Does she simply refuse to recognize her mistake? In any case, it is clear that she was far from a political genius, for she failed to see what was coming. Was she among those who accepted the use of armed force against a legally elected assembly during Brumaire, in order to preserve her privileges rather than to save the Republic?
On the other hand, Carnot — though later opposed to the lifetime Consulate and Empire — served Bonaparte while remaining a staunch republican; and Drouet, a fervent neo-Jacobin and defender of the Republic, also served Napoleon even during the Empire, though he refused any promotion beyond that of sub-prefect. So Mme de Staël deserves the same benefit of the doubt.
She would not foresee Bonaparte’s anger toward Constant and herself, according to Winock. Here is an excerpt:
“After consulting Mme de Staël, Constant had himself registered to speak on the issue during the session of January 5, 1800. The speech his colleagues heard—structured, rigorous, and logical—frightened them by its boldness. Constant essentially declared that the Tribunate was not meant to serve as a permanent opposition to the government, but that it was its duty to oppose ‘proposals that appear disastrous.’
For useful proposals, there should be no obstacle, no delay. But haste cannot be accepted under all circumstances, for ‘authority’ may abuse it: ‘To reason within this hypothesis is not to attack the Government. To describe possible abuses is not to assert that these abuses will occur; it is not to accuse the intentions of those who hold power. But liberty does not concern itself with intentions; it considers means. It is not enough for liberty to feel untroubled by the will of the present; it must be reassured about the power of the future.’
He then proceeded, article by article, to dismantle the bill aimed at reducing the powers of the Tribunate: ‘No doubt harmony is desirable among the authorities of the Republic; but the independence of the Tribunate is no less necessary to this harmony than the constitutional authority of the Government. Without the Tribunate’s independence, there would be neither harmony nor constitution—only servitude and silence, a silence the whole of Europe would hear and judge.’”
The bill was ultimately adopted, which reportedly drove Bonaparte into a furious rage.
Soon after, Germaine de Staël herself would face ostracism.
“She had hosted a reception on the eve of Constant’s intervention. Among her guests were Lucien Bonaparte, Talleyrand, and Roederer. Constant whispered to her: ‘Here is your salon filled with people who please you; if I speak tomorrow, it will be empty—think about it.’ Indeed, on the evening when Benjamin delivered his great speech, she held another gathering, but her guests did not come: ‘I received ten notes of apology at five o’clock.’”
There was also a violent outburst in the press against her, something she had not expected—though any politically seasoned person would have foreseen it.
She wrote to Roederer during this period, on January 9, 1800:
“But please explain to me, I implore you, Roederer, what has been happening for the past three days—this frenzy, this violence against Benjamin, this Journal des hommes libres turned against me only because I am the friend of a man who delivered an independent speech about a regulation!”
She professed affection for Benjamin but denied “directing” him, adding:
“What woman has ever shown herself more enthusiastic about Bonaparte than I?”
When she requested an audience, it was Fouché who received her. He informed her that, according to the First Consul, she had been the one who “pushed” Benjamin Constant to act. Nevertheless, Fouché advised her to withdraw for a while, to leave the public stage, and to let herself be forgotten. She thus settled in Saint-Ouen, though she would soon return to Paris.
In Madame de Staël et Napoléon by Paul Gaultier (a work in which the author often glorifies Mme de Staël, portraying her at times as one of the rare opponents of the Empire), Gaultier attempts to explain that Mme de Staël was a formidable enemy of the Empire, yet was spared imprisonment only because Fouché disliked unnecessary violence against women.
Here is an excerpt:
“She (Germaine de Staël) wrote a long letter to Narbonne in which she reproached him with great vehemence for his attitude toward Bonaparte. She mocked members of the aristocracy who had accepted positions at court, adding that she hoped never to suffer the sorrow of seeing his name listed among theirs. The Montmorencys, Rohans, and La Rochefoucaulds now served as valets and ladies-in-waiting to bourgeois men and women from Ajaccio! Such honors should be rejected! The challenge was to have the letter delivered without arousing police suspicion. Mme de Staël believed she had found the perfect solution by entrusting it to a certain Mr. de S***, who was on his way to Paris. This man, however, was none other than one of Fouché’s paid informers — one of the many who operated in and around Coppet. He immediately hurried to the Ministry of Police. When the Emperor read Mme de Staël’s letter, he flew into a violent rage; he spoke of having her arrested and imprisoned. Fouché dissuaded him, as he disliked unnecessary acts of violence, especially against women.”
In fact, it is fair to say that there is historical evidence showing that Fouché did protect certain individuals and supported some lenient measures, even proposing them to Bonaparte. Yet he did not hesitate—like many others—to take action against women, even when they had done nothing wrong (though under the Consulate and the Empire, Bonaparte himself was often directly responsible, sometimes forcing Fouché’s hand).
After all, during the repression of the Jacobins following the Rue Saint-Nicaise bombing—an attack actually carried out by royalists—women such as Albertine Marat and Simone Evrard, who had shown no suspicious activity under the Consulate, were arrested. Their connections to Jean-Paul Marat and to left-wing Jacobin figures such as the Hébertist Legray, Babeuf, or revolutionary clubs like the Cordeliers (or perhaps the electoral club) during the French Revolution likely made them targets.
Fouché bears part of the responsibility for this, for having obeyed Bonaparte’s orders in order to protect his own position as Minister of Police. He also shares responsibility for what happened to Madame Lacroix during the judicial proceedings and sentencing in the case of the kidnapping of Senator Clément de Ris. (That case is so complex that, no matter how much I study it, I cannot determine whether she was innocent or guilty—but the trial was clearly a travesty of justice. If you have more information on Madame Lacroix’s guilt or innocence, please let me know.)
Fouché did not target these women because they were women, but he had no hesitation in striking at them if he felt the situation—or his own situation —required it.
Therefore, Gaultier’s explanation does not hold up. In reality, Fouché often protected certain people, and Germaine de Staël was one of them. Moreover, she held him in some esteem—a fact conveniently ignored by some of the defenders of the “golden legend” surrounding Mme de Staël. It seems to disturb them that she respected a man with such a tarnished reputation, known for his shifting political allegiances and, above all, for his actions at Lyon.
Germaine de Staël also made comparisons that made little sense. She once called Napoleon “Robespierre on horseback.” But Robespierre never held power comparable to Bonaparte’s; he was a deputy and a member of the Committee of Public Safety, whose decisions were made collectively, even if he had important responsibilities. He would never have used the army against elected officials to take the power. There are countless other differences between him and Bonaparte.
As for courage, it must be said that she was never imprisoned, nor did she ever choose to face danger by staying put at all costs. I do not blame her for that—most people would have done the same—but we cannot therefore claim that she never trembled before Bonaparte or his repressive machinery. After all, many women during the French Revolution or under Bonaparte faced danger head-on and are less remembered for it — such as Manon Roland, who refused to flee, among others.
In Guadeloupe, too, women were not left behind. Rosalie, known as Solitude, though pregnant, fought against Bonaparte’s troops sent to restore slavery. She was executed after giving birth. Marthe Rose Toto also fought like Solitude; she was accused of inciting Louis Delgrès’ resistance and of urging the killing of white prisoners, and was hanged. Some say she was Delgrès’ companion. There were others like them as well.
Elsewhere in Europe, too, women fought against Napoleon’s armies — such as Nadezhda Andreyevna Durova, Manuela Malasaña Oñoro, Agustina de Aragón, and others.
Women also played an important role in political opposition within France, as historian Natalie Petiteau points out:
“On November 4, 1800, a new report announced the arrest of two ringleaders, Jumillard and Brissevin — the latter later deported — but the police continued to search for others, hampered by the fact that ‘the men hardly go out anymore; it is the women who spread the news and collect the money.’ In response to the police informers who had penetrated their private circles, the republicans organized a female sphere of activity that remained largely invisible to the authorities. The very existence of such a clandestine political space allowed women to enter political life. Admittedly, some of their actions may have reflected the usual submission to male authority, yet they appeared in police reports and were therefore stigmatized in turn — thus acquiring, paradoxically, a recognized political existence.”
Indeed, many women took action against Bonaparte:
The citizen Perrin, who lived on Rue de Verneuil in the Faubourg Saint-Germain and kept a market stall on the Quai Voltaire at the corner of Rue de Beaune, assisted Antonelle and Le Peletier in 1800 in their clandestine pro-Jacobin activities against Bonaparte. Antonelle and Félix visited her home to deposit their “mysterious” correspondence and sums of money, probably intended to finance their operations against the Consulate.
The widow Brisset, who sheltered Topino-Lebrun on Rue de Tournon for an entire month while he was being hunted by Bonaparte’s police. His eventual arrest happened by chance, which shows her considerable skill in maintaining secrecy.
Madame Dufour. When the Jacobins were arrested and many of them deported, among them was a Dufour — a Babouvist who had once sheltered well-known conspirators such as Darthé and later became a neo-Jacobin active at the Club du Manège before its closure. The wives of the arrested and deported men organized petitions and sought testimonies in their defense. Their courage must be noted, for during that time, public anger in Paris was high: the people, mistakenly believing that the Rue Saint-Nicaise bombing had been carried out by royalists, violently attacked anyone suspected of Jacobin sympathies. Moreover, since their husbands were imprisoned, most of these women were left destitute. Madame Dufour, the mother of six children, went even further. A police report dated September 19, 1803, states: “The wife of deportee Dufour, residing on Rue Papillon, stands out for the boldness of her remarks; she is a true fury; she is constantly running between brothers and friends; she openly proclaims the imminent successes of the Jacobins. This woman was once involved in Babeuf's conspiracy; it was at her home that most of the meetings were held.” (quoted by Aulard) Unfortunately, her efforts proved in vain — the deportations took place, and most of the deportees, including her husband, died in exile.
Marie-Anne Babeuf, the widow of Gracchus Babeuf, also presents a complex case. Because of the deceptions she told the police throughout her activist life, it is difficult to determine the extent of her involvement when her son, Émile, during General Malet’s first conspiracy, came into contact with Antonelle and Buonarroti, who was then working as a clerk for an opposition bookseller. Émile even wrote a letter to friends in Vendôme, saying that his mother sent her regards — it seems impossible that she was unaware of his activities (at that time, Émile was not yet Bonapartist). When she was questioned first at the police station and later at the prefecture, she was released, while her son escaped arrest only because he was abroad. Although she had already been imprisoned at the Madelonnettes in 1801, during the Jacobin repression following the Rue Saint-Nicaise attack, her 1808 arrest was more targeted. This is not surprising: during the French Revolution, she had demonstrated remarkable skill in political clandestinity and in misleading police interrogations. It is not hard to imagine her doing the same under the Empire, particularly given her close connections with Jacobin opponents of Bonaparte such as Le Peletier Félix (under the Consulate), Buonarroti, and Antonelle.
Marie-Joseph Sagnier, mistress of one of the most famous Jacobin opponents of Bonaparte, Rigomer Bazin. She courageously helped one of their allies, Claude-Henri de Saint-Simon, escape from the police through clever means. She was arrested for this act and displayed great intelligence during her interrogation by Veyrat, refusing to reveal Saint-Simon’s whereabouts. She was imprisoned for her silence and was falsely portrayed by Napoleon’s police as a prostitute.
Sophie de Grouchy, widow of Condorcet. In a televised program that sought to portray Mme de Staël, Sophie de Grouchy was mentioned only by name and then forgotten. In reality, according to some sources, she did not hesitate to stand up to Bonaparte on the question of women’s political involvement. When Napoleon reportedly declared that he disliked women meddling in politics, she replied: “You are right, General — but in a country where they cut off women’s heads, it is natural that they should wish to know why.” Sophie continued to host leading idéologues in her salon in 1802, including Ginguené. Later, when the Moreau conspiracy was uncovered, Fouché’s police began persecuting the idéologues, forcing them to abandon Rue du Bac. They eventually took refuge in Madame de Condorcet’s home, as Henri Valentino notes in Madame de Condorcet, ses amis et ses amours.
Once again, the aim here is not to diminish Madame de Staël’s importance, but rather to insist that we cannot speak only of her while ignoring all the others — especially since many of these politically engaged women in France have been overlooked precisely because their revolutionary convictions or their closeness to radical republican men made them less convenient to celebrate. They all deserve to be mentioned — without distinction.
For more on Marthe Rose Toto, see:
Mini-portraits of three revolutionary women from Guadeloupe
Louis Delgrès and Marthe Rose Toto
For more on Rigomer Bazin, Saint-Simon, and Marie-Joseph Sagnier, see:
The Revolutionary Journey of Bazin, Saint-Simon, and Sagnier
For more on Émile Babeuf and his political convictions:
The Beginning of the Revolutionary Period
About the atrocities committed by Bonaparte’s troops in the overseas departments — it’s here https://www.tumblr.com/nesiacha/758502228409614336/here-we-come-about-a-shocking-act-by-french-army?source=share (which I’m talking about, the end of General Maurepas and his family)
On the life of Drouet it's here : https://www.tumblr.com/nesiacha/789529983972507649/life-of-drouet-jean-baptiste?source=share
