that no independent voice could make itself be heard: on the
Continent the press was completely chained, and the most rigorous
measures excluded every work printed in England. My mother
thought less, therefore, of composing a book, than of preserving the
traces of her recollections and ideas. Along with the narrative of
circumstances personal to herself, she incorporated with it various
reflections which were suggested to her, from the beginning of
Bonaparte's power, by the state of France, and the progress of
events. But if the printing such a work would at that time have
been an act of unheard of temerity, the mere act of writing it
required a great deal of both courage and prudence, particularly in
the position in which she was placed. My mother had every reason to
believe that all her movements were narrowly watched by the police:
the prefect who had replaced M. de Barante at Geneva, pretended to
be acquainted with every thing that passed in her house, and the
least pretence would have been sufficient to induce them to possess
themselves of her papers. She was obliged therefore, to take the
greatest precautions. Scarcely had she written a few pages, when she
made one of her most intimate friends transcribe them, taking care
to substitute for the proper names those of persons taken from the
history of the English Revolution. Under this disguise she carried
off her manuscript, when in 1812 she determined to withdraw herself
by flight from the rigors of a constantly increasing persecution.

On her arrival in Sweden, after having travelled through Russia, and
narrowly escaped the French armies advancing on Moscow, my mother
employed herself in copying out fairly the first part of her
Memoirs, which, as I have already mentioned, goes no farther than
1804. But prior to continuing them in the order of time, she wished
to take advantage of the moment, during which her recollections were