(It is difficult to rage against Lafayette. Behind it all, he is likably vacuous, someone who has decided to become the Plutarchan hero in the same way that others become bankers. And he has also chosen it because it is an occasional occupation that allows him plenty of spare time. When he enters the salon of the idéologue Antoine Destutt de Tracy, the lady of the house greets Mon cher Monsieur “with an enchanting tone of voice” and everyone admires his tall figure, on which is “a face that is imperturbable, cool, colorless as an old family portrait, a head covered by a short, badly made wig.”⁴² But Stendhal has no doubt: “I felt, without anyone needing to tell me, that Monsieur de Lafayette was simply a hero from Plutarch.⁴³ He lived from day to day, with no excessive spirit, simply carrying out like Epaminondas the great action that came his way. Meanwhile, his sole occupation, despite his age, was to take hold of the skirts of pretty girls (vulgo fondle their asses), and he did so quite frequently, with no qualms.” He was a simpleton, but in the vague generalities of his conversation there was a “basic elegance.”⁴⁴ And a basic indifference for the lofty ideas he fervently professed, rather like a libertine ready to make any fatuous declaration that might further his purpose of seduction. “Monsieur de Lafayette is extremely courteous and indeed affectionate to everyone, but courteous as a king.”⁴⁵ He had an “admirable” way of knowing that “the essential thing is not to displease anyone and to remember everybody’s name.”⁴⁶ While they speak to him about the political developments of the day—and there he has no doubts: encourage “all schemers,⁴⁷ all fools, all those full of their own pomposity”—his eye is following one single new, young Portuguese girl, glimpsed among “Monsieur de Lafayette’s fifteen or twenty young nieces, almost all blond with splendid complexions and ordinary faces,” who are “lined up in battle order on the blue sofa.”⁴⁸)

“Lucien had to endure from good Gauthier what the young men of Paris call a tartine, a diatribe on America, democracy, the prefects that have to be chosen from among the members of the general councils, etc.

“While he was listening to these arguments that can be found in print everywhere, Lucien thought: ‘What a difference of spirit between Du Poirier and Gauthier! And yet Gauthier is probably as honest as the other is a scoundrel. In spite of my profound respect for him, I can hardly keep awake. How can I call myself a republican after all this? This proves that I am not cut out to live under a republic; for me it would be the tyranny of all mediocrities; and I can barely tolerate even those who are more worthy of respect. For me, what we need is a crooked and amusing prime minister, such as Walpole or Monsieur de Talleyrand.’

“Meanwhile, Gauthier was ending his discourse with these words … But Americans in France … there aren’t any.