"I was meditating, one morning, upon this painful position of affairs, when the door opened, and the duchess appeared. She rushed in, bid me be quiet, drew a paper from her pocket, which she read in a loud voice and with great rapidity. The purport of this was, that I must withdraw immediately, and that in a private manner, to prevent unnecessary affliction to Mademoiselle; if I did not do so, there was no public exposure I might not dread, and she would never see me again in the course of her life. After some expostulations with the duchess, who, I saw, was influenced by my enemies, I promised to do as she required.
Before I left, I wrote three letters to Mademoiselle d'Orleans, to be given to her at different periods of the day. The duke felt the most profound chagrin, and, attributing all these troubles to the counsels of Madame de Chastelleux, desired her to seek some other abode. The consequence was, the duchess made a demand to be separated from her husband.
"After my departure, I received letters from the duke, begging me to return to his daughter, as he felt assured that her death would be the consequence of my continued absence. I accordingly returned, and found my dear pupil in a state that pierced me to the heart. My solicitude soon restored her to health, but my tranquillity was forever lost. The cause of the sudden dislike of the duchess was evidently the difference of our political opinions. I never in my life interfered in political affairs, but I have at all times been monarchical, as all my works demonstrate. It is also true that I have always detested despotism, _lettres de cachets_, and arbitrary imprisonment.
"After the flight of the king to Varennes, and his forced return to Paris, I was burning with a desire to leave France, and the duke at last gave me leave. The physicians ordered Mademoiselle to go to England, to take the Bath waters. We accordingly went there, and staid at that place two months. We then travelled through the English counties, visited the caverns of Derbyshire and the Isle of Wight.
"The close of my stay in England was imbittered by the most mournful anticipations, for party spirit gave me every reason to fear the efforts and enemies of the house of Orleans, and I received anonymous letters of the most alarming nature. Among others was one which threatened to set fire to our house at night. In September, 1792, while we were at Bury, in Suffolk, I learned by the French papers that a powerful party were desirous of bringing the king and queen to judgment. Immediately after the massacres in the prisons in the same month, I received a singular letter from the Duke of Orleans, telling me to return to France immediately with his daughter. I answered him that I would not do so, as it was absurd to choose such a period for her return.
"My well-founded fears increasing daily, I met with several alarming adventures, which proved that I was an object of suspicion in France.
In November, the Duke of Orleans again sent for his daughter. Upon this, I determined to take Mademoiselle back to France, deliver her up into her father's hands, give up my place as governess, and return immediately to London. We set out on our return, in November, for Dover. We had a stormy passage across the channel, landed, and proceeded rapidly to our residence in Paris. Here I found the Duke of Orleans, M. de Sillery, and some others. I delivered up Mademoiselle to her father, and told him my plan. The duke took me apart, and said, in a dejected manner, that, in consequence of my not returning when he sent the first time, his daughter, now fifteen, came under the new law, which placed her among the emigrants; that the matter was not entirely arranged, but that his daughter must go to Tournay, in Belgium, for a short time. He urged me so vehemently to go with her, that I consented.
"The same evening, M. Sillery took us to the theatre to dispel our melancholy ideas. At the play was Lord Edward Fitzgerald, who became violently in love with Pamela, from her resemblance to a former object of his affection. The next day, finding myself alone with the duke, whose manner struck me as very alarming, I spoke some words to him, upon which he said, surlily, _that he had declared in favor of the Jacobins_. I remonstrated with him in vain. In the evening, I had a long conversation with M. de Sillery, and entreated him, with tears in my eyes, to leave France. But all my arguments were unavailing, and I left the next morning for Tournay, with the most mournful presages.
"At the first post-house we found Lord Edward Fitzgerald, whose love for Pamela made him follow us to Tournay. We had scarcely reached the place, when he asked the hand of Pamela in marriage. I showed him the papers proving her to be the daughter of a man of high birth, of the name of Seymour. After having obtained the consent of his mother, the Duchess of Leinster, to the marriage, it was concluded; and in two days the new-married couple set out for England. I felt great joy in seeing the fortunes of this beloved child so honorably secured.
"Meanwhile, three weeks had elapsed without hearing from the duke.
At last news came of the horrible catastrophe of the king's death.
The Duke of Chartres, who joined us at Tournay, showed me a letter from his father, which began thus: 'My heart is oppressed with sorrow; but, for the interests of France and of liberty, I have thought it my duty...!' &c. My unfortunate husband wrote at the same time, and sent me copies of his opinion at the king's trial. This was thus expressed: 'I do not vote for death, first because the king does not merit it; secondly, because we have no right to sit as his judges; and, lastly, because I consider his condemnation as the greatest political fault that can be committed.' The letter concluded thus: 'I am perfectly sure, then, in pronouncing this opinion, I have signed my death-warrant.'
"Seeing that Belgium was about to fall into the hands of the Austrians, and that it would be impossible for us to fly either to France or to foreign countries, I had the most anxious desire to be recalled to my country. Hence I strongly solicited my return; and I was informed, in March, 1793, that the Duke of Orleans was to obtain the recall of Mademoiselle, but that mine would be delayed. Whilst one day sitting in my room, M. Crepin, an army commissary, whom I had previously known, entered the room, and told me that the Austrians would be in Tournay the next day. Seeing my distress at this intelligence, he offered me an asylum at a farm of his near Valenciennes, so secluded that I might stay there for months in safety. I joyfully accepted his proposal, and we left Tournay in a few days. Circumstances, however, did not allow us to take advantage of this kind offer. We were surrounded by danger; troops marching in disorder, soldiers making a tumultuous noise, filled us with terror.
We stopped a short time at St. Amand, where arrests were constantly made, and all proved to me that the system of proscription was established.
"Having providentially escaped from St. Amand, I immediately set off for Switzerland. After travelling seven days, we reached Schafhausen.
My satisfaction on reaching a neutral territory was great. The Duke of Chartres joined us here. We soon after went to Zug, and took a small house, in a secluded situation, on the banks of the lake, not far from the town. Here I wrote to the Duchess of Orleans,--for the duke was in prison,--and entreated her to send me orders respecting Mademoiselle d'Orleans as soon as possible; but I received no answer.
"We should have remained longer at Zug, but we became known, and the magistrates were reproached for having given us refuge; we were therefore obliged to consult as to our future destination. We formed a thousand romantic projects, and abandoned them as fast as made. The Duke of Chartres insisted upon continuing with us, which made it impossible for us to remain unknown. I finally determined to write to M. de Montesquiou, who lived at Bremgarten, who was himself a refugee, and possessed great influence in Switzerland. I described to him the condition of my unfortunate pupils, and begged him to allow them an asylum in the convent, near the town. M. de Montesquiou wrote me a most polite and obliging answer, and took upon himself to get Mademoiselle d'Orleans and myself into this convent, called St.
Claire. The Duke of Chartres resolved to make a pedestrian tour through Switzerland, where he was taken for a German. How often, since my misfortunes, have I congratulated myself on the education I had given him,--on the languages I had taught him,--on having accustomed him to despise effeminacy, and habituate himself to fatigue! All that he was indebted for to the chance of birth and fortune he had lost; and nothing now remained to him but what he held from nature and from me.[5]
"We entered the convent under feigned names. Mine was Madame Lenox, aunt of Mademoiselle Stuart, my sister's daughter. The duke then left us, and, after his journey through Switzerland, he entered the college of the Grisons incognito, as professor of mathematics. In this quiet of the convent, the health of Mademoiselle was nearly restored. While here came news of a horrid catastrophe, on November 9th, 1793, and I became ill.... I concealed from Mademoiselle the death of her unfortunate father, but dressed her in mourning, as if for the queen of France.[6]
"About this time, a violent dispute arose between the inhabitants of Bremgarten: two parties were formed, and an order was obtained, by people hostile to M. de Montesquiou, that all the French should leave the place. Hearing that the Princess of Conti, the aunt of Mademoiselle d'Orleans, was residing in Switzerland, Mademoiselle, at my urgent request, wrote to her to ask permission to join her.
She received a very kind letter, saying that the princess would receive her niece. On the day before the carriage was sent to take her from me, my emotion was excessive. I determined to spare both of us the pain of this cruel separation. I accordingly shut myself in my room, at the arrival of the Countess de Pont, who was to take away my interesting charge, telling the servant to say that I had gone to some distance.
"As the moment arrived for the departure, Mademoiselle d'Orleans came along my passage, and stopped before the door. I heard her sighs and lamentations.... I heard the carriage roll away; and one must feel a mother's love, to conceive the emotions that overpowered me. I heard from her the next day, and I also wrote her my last letter of advice.
Her departure rendered the spot she had left completely hateful to me, and I most anxiously wished to leave the place. I had, besides, been cruelly persecuted since my residence there. I was often attacked in the most absurd manner in the newspapers. One of them stated that I, loaded with favors by the court of France, had been concerned in all the intrigues of the revolution. Not knowing how to get passports I at last thought of writing to Dr. Hoze, a skilful physician, who lived at Bremgarten. He kindly sent me both passports and a servant to accompany me. I departed, promising the nuns to return and spend the remainder of my life with them. We travelled night and day, till we arrived at Utrecht. From this place, I got into a wretched post-wagon, with a man who was going to Hamburg. We reached that place July 23d, 1794. Hearing of an inn kept by a person of the name of Plock, I went there, and had the fortune not to meet with any emigrants. Here I staid nine months, in complete incognito, and in very agreeable society. It was here that I enjoyed the first consolation I received since my misfortunes--here that I learned several most important events--the fall of Robespierre, and the peace concluded with Russia.
"I now went to board with M. de Valence at his country-house, five leagues from Hamburg. At this place I wrote my '_Precis de Conduite_,'
which produced such a powerful effect in my favor. I soon left for Berlin, in Prussia. I took lodgings with Mademoiselle Bocquet, who kept a boarding-school. Here I made several charming acquaintances; but my cruel fortunes still triumphed. I was informed that great exertions were making to get me out of the kingdom. It had been rumored that the Abbe Sieyes, whom I had never even seen, had made me a visit. The king said he 'would not banish me from his library, but that he would not allow me to remain in his territories.' Accordingly a police officer came with an order for me to leave the kingdom in two hours. This was a real thunderbolt. Leaving all my effects behind me, I got into a carriage and drove away. We were obliged to travel to the frontiers without stopping, except for meals. Three weeks after I reached Hamburg, I received my baggage and manuscripts from Berlin.
During my stay here, I saw Pamela and her husband. I soon perceived that Lord Edward had imbibed opinions dangerous to his own government, and feared that he was about to engage in some desperate enterprise.
"I now went to Holstein, and took up my abode with M. Peterson, in a delightful thatched cottage. The family was charming, and the rural style of living just what I liked. I assisted in churning the butter, and fed on the most delicious red partridges. I here performed a literary labor that greatly fatigued me. In the morning, I wrote the '_Petits Emigres_,' and in the evening, I occupied myself with the '_Voeux Temeraires_.' Beside this, I wrote all the fables of '_Herbier Moral_.'
"I learned by the newspapers that Lord Edward Fitzgerald was arrested in consequence of intrigues in Ireland.[7] I found also that my brother had perished at sea. I became now seriously ill, was attacked with fever, and recovered only as by a miracle. The king of Prussia, Frederic William II., having died in 1797, his son, the prince royal, authorized me to return to Berlin, where 'I should always find peace and repose.' Though still weak, I set out, arrived there in safety, and was received with delight by Mademoiselle Bocquet. She had prepared for me a charming apartment, fitted up with all the attention of kind friendship."
We have thus far presented an abridgment of Madame de Genlis's own narrative: we must now hasten to the conclusion. Under the consulship of Bonaparte, who had a favorable opinion of her talents, she returned to Paris, and became one of his admirers and panegyrists. After the restoration of the Bourbons, she wrote in defence of monarchy and religion.
Her pen seemed inexhaustible, and she continued at intervals to pour forth its productions upon the public. She had passed her eightieth year when her "Memoirs" were written. She lived to witness the astonishing events of July, 1830, and to see her former pupil raised to the throne under the title of Louis Philippe. She died December 31st, 1830, aged 84 years.
The character of Madame de Genlis is not without marks of weakness, and she has been charged even with gross departures from the path of rectitude. On this point, however, the proof is not clear. Her "Memoirs" display a degree of vanity only to be palliated by the customs of her sex in France; and her opinions on public affairs appear to have fluctuated with her fortunes. Yet, as a writer, particularly of works of fiction, which blend instruction with amusement, and have especially in view the inculcation of just sentiments, she has had few equals. Her "Palace of Truth," and "Tales of the Castle," are among the most captivating, yet useful books of the kind, that were ever penned. Some of her works are exceptionable in respect to their tendency; yet, on the whole, we are bound to assign to her the credit of an excellent heart, and a high order of genius. Her works have been published in eighty-four volumes, duodecimo.
[4] Now Louis Philippe, king of France. See note, p. 212 [ed: Footnote 5].
[5] The Duke of Chartres, afterwards Duke of Orleans, and now Louis Philippe, king of the French, was born at Paris, October 6th, 1773. His education has been described in the preceding pages.
In 1791, he served in the army, and subsequently held various military stations, in which he displayed great gallantry. In 1793, having expressed his horror at the excesses of the revolution, a decree of arrest was levelled against him. To escape this, he went to Switzerland, where he met his sister and Madame de Genlis, as related. During his wanderings over this country, he had to contend with fatigue, poverty, and persecution. He travelled from place to place, often alone, and destitute of money.
After the death of his father, Switzerland no longer became a safe place for him, and he went to Hamburg, to escape to America. But here his funds failed him, and he spent some time in travelling in Norway and Lapland, proceeding even to the North Cape. In September, 1796, he embarked for America, where he was joined by his brothers, the Duke of Montpensier and Count Beaujolais. They travelled through the country, though often distressed for the want of money. After various wanderings, they reached England. The Duke of Montpensier died in 1807; and the Count Beaujolais soon after. In November, 1809, Louis Philippe was married, at Palermo, to the Princess Amelia, daughter of the king of Sicily. On the restoration of the Bourbons in 1815, he returned to Paris, and inherited a large part of the immense wealth of his father. In 1830, he was elevated to the throne.
His family presents a model of union, good morals, and domestic virtue, and he is himself one of the ablest of living sovereigns. If his character is in any considerable degree owing to his education,--and we cannot doubt that it is,--it furnishes an imperishable monument to the honor of Madame de Genlis.
[6] The position of Madame de Genlis does not permit her to do justice to the character of the Duke of Orleans, which is one of the most infamous in history. He was born in 1747, and was descended from the Duke of Orleans, only brother of Louis XIV. In his youth he was distinguished for his licentiousness, and during the revolution he acquired an unfortunate notoriety. He joined the Jacobins, and cooperated with Robespierre, Marat, and Danton. He renounced his royal titles, and assumed that of M.
Egalite. He voted for the death of his relative, Louis XVI., and was present at his execution. But the storm he had assisted to raise was now directed against him. He was included in the general proscription of the Bourbons, and was guillotined November 6th, 1793. His wife, who sustained an excellent character, returned to Paris after the restoration, and died in 1821.
[7] Lord Edward Fitzgerald was the son of the Duke of Leinster, and born in Ireland, October 15th, 1763. He was educated for the military profession, and served in the American war with credit.
He was an ardent lover of liberty, and deeply felt the wrongs done to his native country by the British government. He hailed the French revolution as the dawn of universal freedom: in 1792 he went to Paris, and participated in the intoxication of that eventful era. After his marriage to Pamela, he went to Ireland, and became one of the leaders in the rebellion of 1798. He became obnoxious to the government, and was arrested while concealed in a house in Dublin. He was at the time in bed: he resisted fiercely, and wounded two of the officers, one of them mortally. He received a pistol ball in his shoulder, and, being confined in Newgate, died June 4th, 1798.
He was a man of remarkable elevation and singleness of mind, and was greatly endeared to his friends. The letters written by different members of his family, at the time of his arrest and during his confinement in prison, published by his biographer, Moore, are among the most touching that were ever penned. Their attachment to their unfortunate relation amounted almost to idolatry.
His wife, who had three children at the time of his death, seems to have been a fit partner for so noble a spirit. The letters above alluded to depict her character as one of extraordinary elevation and loveliness. Some doubt about her parentage has existed; but, as we have given the statement of Madame de Genlis upon the subject, it does not seem necessary to say more. She returned to France, and her remains are deposited in the cemetery of Mont Martre, at Paris.
JOSEPHINE.
M. Tascher, a native of France, having resigned his commission in the cavalry, retired to an estate in the Island of St. Domingo. In the year 1763, he, together with his wife, made a visit to a sister in Martinico, and there, on the 23d of June, a daughter, Josephine, was born. On the return of her parents to St. Domingo, she was left with her aunt, and there are no traces of future intercourse with them.
Often, in after years, did Josephine revert to the unmingled happiness and peaceful enjoyments of her childhood. The advantages for education enjoyed by Mademoiselle Tascher were superior to what would be supposed by those who have only known the French colonies at a subsequent period. The proprietors were many of them highly accomplished gentlemen, born and educated in France, who had retired to their estates in the New World, as a retreat from which to watch the progress of those events which were beginning to disturb the quiet of the Old.
[Illustration: JOSEPHINE.]
Josephine, naturally amiable and gentle in disposition, with manners which combined ease and elegance with dignity, possessed a natural aptitude for acquiring feminine accomplishments. She played, especially on the harp, and sung with exquisite feeling. Her dancing is said to have been perfect. An eye-witness describes her light form, rising scarcely above the middle size, as seeming in its faultless symmetry to float rather than to move--the very personation of Grace.
She was mistress of the pencil and of the needle. Flowers were her passion; she early cultivated a knowledge of botany. To the _empress_ Josephine Europe is indebted for a knowledge of the Camelia. She read delightfully; the tones of her voice fascinated. "The first applause of the French people," said Napoleon, "sounded to my ear sweet as the voice of Josephine."
The companion of her infancy was a mulatto girl, some years older than herself,--her foster-sister, Euphemia,--who never afterwards quitted her patroness, shared in her amusements, and was the companion of her rambles. In one of these an incident occurred, which exercised a lasting influence over her imagination. The particulars were, long afterwards, thus related by herself:--
"One day, some time before my first marriage, while taking my usual walk, I observed a number of negro girls assembled round an old woman, who was telling their fortune. I stopped to listen to her. The sorceress, on seeing me, uttered a loud shriek, and grasped my hand. I laughed at her grimaces, and allowed her to proceed, saying, 'So you discover something extraordinary in my destiny?' 'I do.' 'Do you discover traces of happiness, or misfortune?' 'Of misfortune, certainly; but of happiness also.' 'You take care not to commit yourself, my worthy sibyl; your oracles are not the most clear.' 'I am not permitted to make them more so,' said the woman, raising her eyes in a mysterious manner towards heaven. My curiosity was now awakened, and I said to her, 'But tell me, what read you in futurity concerning me?' 'What do I read? You will not believe me if I tell you.' 'Yes, indeed, I assure you. Come, good woman, what am I to hope or fear?' 'You insist; listen then. You will soon be married; the union will not be happy; you will become a widow, and then--you will become queen of France! You will enjoy many years of happiness, but you will be killed in a popular commotion.' The old woman then burst from the crowd, and hurried away as fast as her limbs, enfeebled by age, would permit. I forbade the bystanders to laugh at the prophetess for her ridiculous prediction, and took the occasion to caution the young negro women against giving credit to such pretenders.
Henceforth, I thought of the affair only to laugh at it. But afterwards, when my husband had perished on the scaffold, in spite of my better judgment, this prediction forcibly recurred to my mind; and, though I was myself then in prison, the transaction daily assumed a less improbable character, and I ended by regarding the fulfilment as almost a matter of course."
Nothing at the time seemed less likely than the fulfilment of the prediction. Miss Tascher seemed destined to become the wife of some creole youth, and to pass a tranquil and indolent life on some neighboring plantation. It so chanced, however, that the young Vicompte Alexander de Beauharnais, "who," in Josephine's words, "had embraced the new ideas with all the ardor of a very lively imagination," after serving with distinction in the war of the American revolution, came to Martinico to prove his title to some estates which had fallen by inheritance to himself and his brother.
These estates were held on lease by Josephine's uncle, and an acquaintance between the young people naturally followed. They became mutually attached; but his relatives, who were opposed to the match, interposed obstacles which Josephine surmounted with a gentleness and address hardly to be expected in a girl of sixteen. In 1794, writing to her children, Josephine says, "If to my union with your father I have been indebted for all my happiness, I dare to think and say, that to my own character I owe our union, so many were the obstacles which opposed us. Yet, without any effort of talents, I effected their removal. I found in my own heart the means of gaining the affection of my husband's relations; patience and goodness will ever in the end conciliate the good-will of others."
On their arrival in France, in 1779, the youthful pair are said to have created a sensation in society. The manners and accomplishments of Josephine excited admiration in the most polished court in Europe; and the attentions of Marie Antoinette made an impression on her grateful heart which endured through a life, the incidents of which were in such seeming opposition to the interests of the Bourbons. Much of their time, however, was spent on the vicompte's estates in Brittany; and here were born Eugene, afterwards viceroy of Italy, and Hortense, afterwards queen of Holland.
Every thing gave promise of enduring happiness. But the misconduct of the vicompte destroyed it. Josephine at first complained with gentleness, and sought by increased fondness to win back the waning affections of her husband. Finding this unavailing, she infused into her reproaches a degree of bitterness which alienated completely the affections she was so anxious to gain. A separation was the consequence, and Josephine returned with her children to Martinico.
After an absence of several years, she once again sailed for France, and in circumstances far from affluent. An incident which occurred on the voyage was thus related to the ladies of her court. She had indulged a wish they had expressed to see her jewels. They were spread upon a spacious table, which was covered with them. The brilliancy, the size, and the quantity, of the jewels composing the different sets, were dazzling to the eye. Here were collected the choicest gems of Europe, for all its nations had been eager to heap presents upon the wife of Napoleon. After she had permitted the ladies to examine at leisure these treasures, which almost realized the tales of the "Arabian Nights," Josephine said to them, "During the first dawn of my elevation, I delighted in these trifles. I grew by degrees so tired of them, that I no longer wear any, except when I am compelled to do so by my station in the world. Trust to me, ladies, and do not envy a splendor which does not constitute happiness. You will be surprised when I tell you that I felt more pleasure at receiving a pair of old shoes, than at being presented with all the diamonds now spread before you." The ladies smiled at what they considered a mere pleasantry; but Josephine repeated the remark with such earnestness as to induce them to ask for the story. "Accompanied by Hortense, I embarked at Martinico for France. Being separated from my husband, my pecuniary resources were not very flourishing; the expense of my return to France, which the state of my affairs rendered necessary, had nearly drained my purse, and I found great difficulty in providing the indispensable requisites for the voyage. Hortense, who was a smart, lively girl, became a great favorite with the sailors; she entertained them by imitating the songs and dances of the negroes. No sooner did she observe me engaged, than she slipped upon deck, and repeated her little exercises to the renewed delight of all. An old quarter-master was particularly attentive to her, and, whenever he found a moment's leisure, he devoted it to his _little friend_, who became much attached to him. This constant dancing and skipping soon destroyed my daughter's slight shoes. Knowing that she had no other pair, and fearing that I should forbid her going upon deck, if I should discover this defect in her attire, she concealed it. Her bleeding feet one day attracted my notice. I asked, in alarm, if she had hurt herself. 'No, mamma.' 'But your feet are bleeding.' 'It really is nothing.' I insisted upon seeing what was the matter, and found that the shoes were in tatters, and her foot dreadfully torn by a nail. The voyage was not half performed, and there seemed no possibility of procuring a new pair before reaching France. I was quite overcome at the idea of Hortense's sorrow at being compelled to remain shut up in my little cabin, and to the injury to her health. My tears found a free vent.
At this moment our friend the quarter-master appeared. With honest bluntness he asked the cause of our grief. Hortense, sobbing all the while, told him that she could no longer go on deck, because she had no shoes. 'Is that all?' said he; 'I have an old pair somewhere in my chest; I will bring them; you, madam, can cut them to shape, and I will sew them as well as I can. On board ship, you must put up with many things. It is not the place to be too nice and particular.' He did not wait for my reply, but went in quest of his shoes, which he brought to us with an air of exultation, and offered them to Hortense, who received them with eager delight. We set to work with zeal, and Hortense enjoyed the delight of furnishing the evening's diversion to the crew. I repeat that no present was ever received by me with more pleasure than this pair of old, coarse, leather shoes."
The motive of Josephine in returning to France was to be near her husband, who was a prominent actor in the scenes of the French revolution. Knowing the warmth of his political feelings, she trembled for his safety; her past resentment vanished. She sought a reconciliation, which he most cordially desired.