This celebrated writer, whose maiden name was Stephanie FelicitÉ Ducrest de St. Aubin, has left a voluminous memoir of her life and times, written at the age of eighty, which is interesting for the portraits of celebrated characters, in which it abounds, as well as the delineations it affords of her education, her feelings, and her experience. Of this we have made the following abstract, generally in her own words, which will present the leading incidents of her eventful career:—

“I was born,” says she, “on the 25th of January, 1746, on a little estate in Burgundy, near Autun, called ChampcÉri. I was born so small and so weakly that they would not venture to put me in clothes; and, a few moments after my birth, I was on the point of losing my life. I had been placed in a down pillow, of which, to keep me warm, the two sides were folded over me and fastened with a pin; and, thus wrapped up, I was laid upon an arm-chair in the room. The judge of the district, who was almost blind, came to pay his visit of compliment to my father; and as, in his country fashion, he separated his huge flaps to sit down, some one saw that he was going to place himself 183 in the arm-chair where I was. Luckily, he was prevented from sitting down, and I escaped being crushed to death.

“I experienced in my childhood a series of unfortunate accidents. At eighteen months old, I fell into a pond, out of which I was extricated with great difficulty: at the age of five, I had a fall, and received a severe wound on the head: as a great deal of blood flowed from it, it was thought unnecessary to bleed me; but a deposit, formed in the head, burst at the ear after forty days, and, contrary to expectation, I was saved. A short time afterwards, I fell into the kitchen fire: this accident did not injure my face, but there are to this day two marks of it on my body. Thus often was endangered, in its earliest years, that life which was afterwards to prove so checkered.

“My father sold the estate of ChampcÉri when I was two years old. He had a house at Cosne, to which he removed, and passed three years there. The recollection of that house, of its superb garden, and beautiful terrace, upon the Loire, and of the chateau of Mienne, a league from Cosne, where we went so often, remains indelibly engraved on my memory. Passing by that road, thirty-five years after, I instantly recognized the chateau, though I was but five years old when we quitted Cosne. My father purchased the marquisate of St. Aubin, an estate most desirable from its situation, its extent, and its titular and seigniorial rights. I have never thought, without a feeling of tenderness, of this spot, once so dear to me, in which six years of innocence and happiness glided away.

“When we were once fixed at St. Aubin, my education began to be attended to. Mademoiselle Urgon, the village schoolmistress, taught me to read. Having an excellent memory, I learnt with great facility; and at the end of six or seven months, I read with ease. I was brought up with a brother fifteen months younger than myself, of whom I was exceedingly fond; with the exception of the hour set apart for reading, we were allowed to play together all day long. We passed part of the day in the court-yard, or in the garden; and in the evening we played in the drawing-room.

“I was six years old when my brother was sent to Paris, to the famous academy of M. Bertrand, the most virtuous and best instructor of his time. It was he who invented the method of learning to spell in six weeks, by means of boxes full of counters. Two or three months after the departure of my brother, my mother made a journey to Paris, and took me with her.

“I was not much pleased with Paris, and, for the first few days of my stay there, I regretted St. Aubin bitterly. I had two teeth pulled out; my clothes pinched me terribly; my feet were imprisoned in tight shoes, with which it was impossible for me to walk; I had a multitude of curl papers put on my head; and I wore a hoop, for the first time in my life. In order to get rid of my country attitudes, I had an iron collar put on my neck, and, as I squinted a little at times, I was obliged to put on goggles as soon as I woke in the morning; and these I wore four hours. I was, moreover, not a little surprised when they talked of giving 185 me a master to teach me what I thought I knew well enough already—to walk. Beside all this, I was forbidden to run, to leap, or ask questions.

“All these painful constraints made such an impression on me, that I have never forgotten them. I have since faithfully depicted them in a little comedy called ‘The Dove.’ But a great ceremony, and the fine entertainments which followed it, soon made me forget my little griefs. I had only been privately christened; I was now baptized in public; my aunt, Madame de Bellevau, was my godmother, and M. Bouret, the farmer-general, my godfather. I received some splendid presents; and I had, besides, plenty of sweetmeats and playthings, and I soon recovered my good-humor. I was taken also to the opera, which delighted me beyond measure.

“My father had the utmost affection for me, but he did not interfere with my education in any point but one; he wished to make me a woman of firm mind, and I was born with numberless little antipathies. I had a horror of all insects, particularly of spiders and toads. I was also afraid of mice, and he made me feed and bring up one. I loved my father to excess, and he had such an influence over me, that I never dared to disobey him. He would frequently oblige me to catch spiders with my fingers, and to hold toads in my hands, and, at such times, though I felt as if the blood had forsaken my veins, I was forced to obey. These trials proved clearly to me that toads are not venomous; but they powerfully contributed to weaken my nerves, and have only augmented the antipathies which they were intended to remove. They have, however, 186 served to give me a habit of self-command, which of itself is a great benefit.

“So passed several years. Mademoiselle de Mars, a young woman from Brittany, had now the sole direction of my studies, and she gave me also lessons in singing, and on the harpsichord. I became attached to her from the first, and passed nearly all my time with her. I made great progress in my music, and we rehearsed a great many little plays for our amusement. Much applause was bestowed upon my performances, except by Mademoiselle de Mars, who generally only praised me for what belonged to my heart or character. I led a charming life: in the morning I played on the harpsichord; afterwards I studied my parts; then I took my lesson in dancing and fencing, and then read till dinner. After dinner, we read pious books, and afterwards spent our time in amusements and walking.

“I will here give the history of what a woman never forgets—the first passion she inspires. I was but a child of eleven years and nine months, and very small of my age; besides, I had a face and features so delicate, that those who saw me for the first time never supposed me older than eight or nine, at furthest; yet a young man of eighteen became desperately in love with me—the son of Dr. Pinot, one of the first physicians at the baths of Bourbon-Lancey. He had performed parts in our plays for two years.

“None of us suspected his folly, and certainly I had not the slightest idea of it; when, one morning, after a rehearsal, the young man came up to me, and, seizing the moment when I was standing separate from the other actors in the side scene, and with an air of wildness 187 in his looks, gave me a note, begging me, in a low tone, to read it, and let no one see it. I took the note, though much surprised, and he left me. Mademoiselle de Mars soon after joined me. I put the note in my pocket, and we went up stairs to our room. I hesitated about showing her my note, as I had been charged so strongly to show it to no one; but to keep a secret with the friend I loved so dearly weighed heavily upon my conscience; at the same time, my curiosity was extreme.

“At last, Mademoiselle de Mars left me. I ran into my cabinet, locked the door, and read the note, which contained a serious declaration of love. My first movement was to be excessively shocked that the son of a physician—a person of no rank—should presume to talk of love to me. I went immediately and showed the note to my friend, who desired me to carry it to my mother, which I did. The young man was reprimanded by his father, as he deserved to be; and he felt so much chagrin on the occasion, that he enlisted in the army, and left the place. I afterwards heard of him as having obtained his discharge, and that he was married and happy, and an excellent young man.

“Two months after this romantic flight, we went to Paris. I confess, to my shame, that I quitted Burgundy without regret; for childhood loves and requires change. At Paris we found my aunt, the Countess de Bellevau, and after a short time we took up our abode with her. At her house I saw the celebrated author M. Marmontel. He came to read her his ‘Tales.’ I was present at the reading of one, called, I think, ‘The 188 Self-styled Philosopher,’ in which a fat president’s wife, begrimmed with snuff, leads about in triumph this pretended sage, with a rose-colored ribbon. Though but twelve years old, I thought this story dull and absurd, and I thought rightly. The author was far from supposing that the little girl then before him would one day write a critique on these tales, which should throw him into transports of rage.

“At the close of the winter, we went to a country-house of my aunt’s, which had a delightful garden close to the forest of Vincennes. My brother, my two cousins, and myself, performed little pieces, and we had many little fÊtes at which my brother and myself sung duets. He was by no means as remarkable a child as I was: he was shy, awkward, and of an inconceivable simplicity: he had requested my father in vain to let him use a gun; he was always told that he must first acquire a knowledge of fencing, for which he had not the slightest taste: he therefore adopted the following expedient: he loaded a gun, shut himself up in his room, and, in order to fire without making a noise, he bethought him of thrusting the barrel of the gun under the mattress of the bed. He then fired in this prudent manner, set fire to the bed, and was himself knocked down by the rebound. The family hastily assembled, and discovered with surprise this singular invention. The next summer we spent at Passy, and in October returned to Paris.

“When I was fourteen years old, my father left us for St. Domingo. On his return, he was taken prisoner by the English, with all he possessed. He was conducted to Lanceston, a seaport town in England, where he 189 found many French prisoners of war, and, among others, a young man, whose handsome face, talents, and accomplishments, inspired him with the most lively interest: this was the Comte de Genlis, who, in returning from Pondicherry, where he had commanded a regiment during five years, had been carried to Canton, in China. Here he passed five months, and was thence taken to Lanceston.

“The Comte de Genlis had served in the navy from the age of fourteen; he had covered himself with glory in the famous action of M. d’AchÉ; he was then a lieutenant, and scarcely twenty. Out of twenty-two officers, he was the only one who survived: all the others were killed. M. de Genlis was covered with wounds, of which one remained open for eight years and a half. This combat gained him the rank of captain, and the cross of St. Louis. M. d’AchÉ took off his own to give it to him, on board of the vessel, the very day of the action, saying that he was sure the court would not disavow what he had done. The Comte de Genlis conducted himself with equal valor at Pondicherry. As soon as he returned to France, his uncle, M. de Puisieux, made him quit the navy, and enter into the land service, with the rank of colonel of grenadiers.

“While he was at Lanceston, he became very intimate with my father, who always carried a box, on which was my portrait in the act of playing the harp: this picture struck M. de Genlis, who made many inquiries about me, and believed all that was said by my father, who thought me faultless.

“The English had left my father my portrait, my 190 letters, and those of my mother, which spoke of nothing but my successes and my talents. The count read these, and they made a profound impression upon him. His uncle, who was then minister for foreign affairs, soon obtained his liberty, and he promised to do all in his power to obtain that of my father. As soon as he arrived in Paris, he waited on my mother, to deliver some letters from my father; at the same time, he earnestly solicited his exchange, and in three weeks my father arrived in Paris. Not long after, being seized with a malignant fever, he died in the flower of his age. I experienced at his loss the most profound grief I had ever felt.

“I will now speak of an old friend of my father’s—the Baron d’Andlau. He came often to visit us; he was more than sixty, generous and kind. He discovered the greatest friendship for me, and I was so much the more touched with these marks of his affection, that I attributed them to the remembrance he had preserved of my father. But, at last, he made me understand his real sentiments by the most singular declaration of love that was ever made. He sent me, by his valet, a huge packet, containing his genealogy at full length, which he entreated me to examine with attention; but all my application in this way rendered me by no means favorable to his hopes. The same day, he came solemnly to demand my heart and hand, and was extremely surprised to find that his superb parchments had produced so little effect upon my mind. My mother, however, desired me to reflect upon his proposal, stating that he was rich and of high birth; but I firmly persisted in my refusal, and there was no more 191 said upon the subject. He did not discontinue his visits, but paid attention only to my mother, and to such good purpose, that, eighteen months after, he married her; and I was much better pleased to have him for a father-in-law than a husband.

“Not long after this event, my destiny was fixed for life. I was secretly married to M. de Genlis. He was then twenty-seven, and, having neither father nor mother, could dispose of himself as he pleased. Eight days after my marriage, we went to live with my aunt, Madame de Sercey, who lived in the Rue de Rohan. Here our marriage was published, and it formed the subject of public conversation for several days. We then took up our residence at the chateau of Genlis, belonging to my brother-in-law, the Marquis de Genlis, where our time passed in a succession of fÊtes and entertainments.

“My brother passed six weeks with us at this time. He had just been received into the engineers, and had undergone his examination in Bezout, with the utmost credit to himself: in fact, he showed a decided genius for mathematics. I was transported with joy at seeing him again: he was handsome and ingenuous, and he had a sort of childish gayety, which suited me exactly. M. de Genlis made him a present of every thing which could be useful to him in a garrison in which he was to remain a long time. He went to MÉziÈres: we promised to write regularly to each other, and we kept our word.

“On the 4th of September, when I was nineteen years of age, my little Caroline was born, beautiful as an angel. How many sentiments, till then unknown, 192 sprung up in my breast with the blessing of being a mother! Six weeks after, I was presented at court by Madame Puisieux. She obliged me to wear a great deal of rouge and powder, two things which I detested; I wore a high ruff, and a large hoop and train. My presentation went off well, and the day was well chosen, as there were a great many ladies at this levee. Louis XV. spoke a good deal to Madame de Puisieux, and said many flattering things about me. Though no longer young, he appeared to me to be very handsome: his eyes were of a deep blue, ‘royal blue eyes,’ as the Prince of Conti said; and his look was the most imposing that can be imagined.

“In speaking he had a laconic manner, and a particular brevity of expression, in which, however, there was nothing harsh or disobliging; in short, there was about his whole person something majestic and royal, which completely distinguished him from all other men. A handsome exterior in a king is by no means a matter of indifference; the people and the great bulk of the nation can see but by stealth, as it were, the great potentates of the earth; they regard them with eager curiosity; the impression they receive from that examination is indelible, and exercises the greatest influence over all their sentiments. A noble air, a frank expression of countenance, a serene aspect, an agreeable smile, mild and polished manners, are precious gifts to princes, which education may confer but to a certain degree.

“About this time, I wrote a little novel, called the ‘Dangers of Celebrity,’ the manuscript of which I afterwards lost. We soon returned to Genlis, and I 193 recommenced my pursuits with fresh ardor. I was very happy at Genlis, especially after my brother-in-law’s marriage to a most charming woman. The only property which M. de Genlis then had was the estate of Sissy, five leagues from Genlis: it was worth ten thousand francs a year, which was equal to twenty thousand now: we did not spend five thousand out of this, so that we were completely at our ease: and M. de Genlis, who was full of goodness and humanity, did a vast deal of good in the village: my brother-in-law and his wife were also extremely generous, and were, in return, adored by the peasants.

“We passed the next winter at Paris. I was then twenty. I went once a week to dine with my aunt, Madame de Montesson, or with my grandmother, the Marchioness de la Haie. I saw this year, 1766, the AbbÉ Delille, who had just published his beautiful translation of Virgil’s ‘Georgies.’ He was at that time twenty-seven years of age. He visited me several times; he was then engaged with his translation of the ‘Æneid.’ I thought him ingenuous and amiable; he had a face of certain intelligent ugliness, which it was amusing to examine. At this time, he recited verses in a manner that was quite charming, and which belonged exclusively to himself.

“I went, in the spring, to the Isle Adam, in the Seine, where the Prince of Conti resided. He was the only one of the princes of the blood who had a taste for literature and the sciences, or who could speak in public. He was the most magnificent of our princes. Each lady that visited him had a carriage and horses at her command, and was at liberty to ask parties to 194 dine daily in her own apartments. Ceremony was reserved for the evening, but during the day you enjoyed perfect liberty. We remained here, in the midst of the most charming society, six weeks.

“I passed the next winter at Paris, in a round of dissipation; private balls, dinners, suppers, occupied most of my time. I amused myself also at home by performing with my friends little operas and comedies, which were always terminated by a concert, which was led by the famous Cramer. It was at this time that I wrote my first historical novel, founded on an anecdote in the life of Tamerlane. I read also, with inexpressible delight, some of the works of Pascal, Bossuet, and Massillon. The latter entirely entranced me. The majestic flow of his eloquence, and the sweetness and harmony of his language, have something about them which is truly divine. I also read with admiration the ‘Natural History’ of M. de Buffon: the perfection of his style enchanted me, and I studied it intensely.

“J. J. Rousseau being now in Paris, I had a great desire to see so celebrated a man. I must confess that nothing ever appeared to me so odd and fantastical as his figure and appearance, which I merely considered as a masquerade. His coat, his marron-colored stockings, his little round wig, his whole costume, his manners and deportment, were to me perfectly ludicrous. Yet I never knew a literary character more agreeable, or with less affectation. His eyes were small, and, though deep set, were very piercing. He had a most agreeable smile, full of mildness and finesse. He talked admirably of music. I found 195 afterwards that he was filled with caprice and morbid sensibility. He never accepted favors, and was offended by any offers of pecuniary aid.

“I must mention an extraordinary individual whom I constantly saw at M. de Puisieux’s—the AbbÉ Raynal. Never did there exist a man of talent so insupportably obstinate, so disputatious, or so unamiable in society. I likewise saw the young prince of Sweden, Gustavus III. He was agreeable and accomplished.

“For her own private interest, my aunt, Madame de Montesson, was extremely desirous that I should enter the Palais Royal, as lady of honor. M. de Genlis cared little about it, and declared that he would not consent to let me have the place, unless he was attached to the court himself. He therefore asked and obtained the post of captain of the guards of the Duke of Chartres, a station worth six thousand francs, while mine, was worth four. The society of the Palais Royal was then the most brilliant and witty in Paris. There was also no want of books, and I made constant additions to my knowledge of French literature and history. I served also as the secretary of the Duchess of Chartres. I continued to write comedies, and cultivated music with the same ardor as before. I was constantly in the habit of making extracts, in small paper books, of conversations with persons that were entertaining and instructive. I had made, when I left the Palais Royal, a selection of poetry, of one thousand verses, of various authors, some being of very ancient date.

“One day, when I was in the Garden of Plants, I had 196 the good fortune to meet M. de Buffon, who received me with great cordiality and simplicity. I afterwards met him frequently, and we spoke of nothing but literature.

“In 1774, Louis XV. died, and the unfortunate Louis XVI. mounted the throne. In the course of a journey which I took on account of ill health the next year, I went to Ferney to visit M. de Voltaire. All the busts and portraits I have seen of him are exceedingly like him; but no artist has fully expressed the eyes. They were the liveliest I ever saw; but they also had something indescribably soft and tender in their expression. His laugh and bitter smile greatly altered the expression of his face. When neither religion nor his enemies were spoken of, his conversation was simple and pleasing; but when he was opposed in the least, his manner became warm and bitter.

“About this time, I wrote many little comedies for my daughters to perform, which were very successful. I received complimentary letters from M. d’Alembert and M. de Marmontel. Some time afterwards, I had rather an intimate acquaintance with M. Gibbon, author of the ‘Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.’ M. de Voltaire came to Paris soon after this period. I went to see him, but found him quite broken down and dejected. He died in 1778.

“The time I passed at the Palais Royal was at once the most brilliant and unhappy part of my life; I was in the zenith of my talents, and at the age when a woman joins to the freshness and graces of youth all the accomplishments which habits of intercourse with the world can bestow. I was admired, praised, flattered, 197 and courted. Every Saturday, I had a concert; every Tuesday, a pleasant circle of acquaintances met at my house, and another day was set apart for conversation parties; in short, I was constantly occupied either in society, reading, or forming plans of works, since completed. I was generally beloved in the great world. So much for the brilliant side of my situation. But the malignity and hypocrisy of several persons belonging to the Palais Royal; the constantly renewed vexations; the unlooked-for calumnies, and the pretended reconciliations of which I have been so frequently the dupe; the injustice and the slanders;—all caused me the bitterest grief, which I was forced to conceal, for my situation obliged me to appear continually in society.

“The Duke of Chartres was very desirous to succeed to the place of grand admiral, then held by his father-in-law, the Duke of PenthiÈvre: to promote this object he proposed making a cruise at sea. He was to embark at Toulon, and persuaded the Duchess of Chartres to accompany him so far; and I even inspired her with a desire to see Italy. In going there, the duchess only took with her the young Countess of Rully, M. de Genlis, an esquire, and myself, two waiting maids, a valet, and three footmen. We passed through all the southern provinces, only stopping to attend the charming fÊtes, which were every where given to the prince and princess. Our journey passed off gayly and without accident, and we had some curious personal adventures. The duchess met with the utmost admiration throughout Italy for the dignity and sweetness of her manners.

“At Venice we saw the famous entertainment of the 198 Bucentaur, or wedding the Adriatic; but the city that I saw with the most enthusiasm was Rome. My emotion was so great on entering it that I embraced all in the carriage. I made many excursions, visited the Coliseum, and went daily to wonder and pray at St. Peter’s. At Naples we were presented at court, and splendid fÊtes were given to the Duchess of Chartres.

“After our return, I recommenced my little plays with the same success as before. Indeed, I was prevailed upon to publish them for the benefit of the Chevalier de Quiessat, who had been fined and imprisoned. M. de Genlis undertook the editorship of the works, which made a large octavo volume. The Duke and Duchess of Chartres gave a hundred Louis for two copies. The Prince of Conde paid fifty Louis for one copy, and the Count de Jardini, with whom I was unacquainted, paid three thousand francs for one. The net profits of the work were forty thousand francs, which effected the liberation of M. Quiessat.

“When I published my first volume of the ‘ThÉÂtre d’ Education,’ there was every where felt for me a sort of enthusiasm; many persons sought my acquaintance, and among others M. de la Harpe. It was immediately translated into all the European languages. All the journalists praised my work excessively; in short, no one ever entered on a literary career with more honor and glory.

“The Duchess of Chartres having become the mother of two infant princesses, I cultivated my talents with new ardor, in the prospect of benefiting them. I had determined to educate them within a convent. Accordingly a pavilion, called ‘Belle Chasse,’ was 199 erected in Paris for our residence, communicating with the convent by a long arbor covered with vines. My establishment was really charming. The furniture was extremely simple: it was to be mine after the education of the children was completed. The usual salary of the governess was six thousand francs; the duke offered me twelve thousand; which, however, I refused. I conducted the mansion of ‘Belle Chasse’ and the education of the princes and princesses with great ceremony, and gained the reputation of being a good housewife—a kind of praise so reluctantly accorded to those women who love reading and cultivate literature and the fine arts.

“During the first eighteen months of my residence at ‘Belle Chasse,’ I published successively the other volumes of my ‘Theatre of Education.’ I led a delicious life at ‘Belle Chasse,’ and received every Saturday my acquaintances from six to half past nine, and my intimate friends from eight till ten in the evening. I had obtained permission to have my mother and children with me; and the inexpressible satisfaction of attending to my mother’s comforts was my sweetest occupation.

“The extreme beauty of my eldest daughter, her talents, her charming disposition, and my place as lady of honor, which remained vacant for her, caused her hand to be sought by a great number of persons. She was a good musician; she drew figures in a fine style; she painted admirably in all styles; and I never knew any one who danced so well as she did. She was only fourteen. I at last determined upon marrying her. The choice of M. de Genlis fell upon a Belgian, 200 the Marquis of Becelaer de Lawoestine: he was an only son, and of high birth, and would eventually inherit the title of grandee. M. de Genlis gave him his place of captain of the guards, and my furnished apartments at the Palais Royal, all of which formed a very comfortable establishment for the young couple. A week before the marriage, the Duke and Duchess of Chartres sent me magnificent bracelets and a superb aigrette of diamonds for my daughter.

“I was the first governess of princes, in France, who adopted the custom of teaching children the living languages by talking with them. I gave my young princesses an English maid-servant, and another who understood Italian thoroughly, so that, at the age of five, they understood three languages, and spoke English and French perfectly well. I bethought myself of placing a young English girl of their own age with them. Accordingly the Duke of Chartres wrote to London to beg a person of the name of Forth to send him one. He succeeded in accomplishing my wish: the little girl was sent, and was remarkable for her graceful manners, her mildness, and her beauty. Her name was Nancy Syms; I called her Pamela; and, as she did not know a word of French, she contributed greatly to familiarize the little princesses with the English language.

“My tranquillity was now disturbed by a melancholy event—the illness and death of the eldest of the princesses, Mademoiselle d’Orleans. The princess who remained took the name of Orleans; she was then five years old. No words can describe her grief at the death of her sister; her affliction lasted more than 201 two years. Often, when in my room, and appearing to play, she turned her back to me and wept.

“The duke was sedulously engaged in endeavoring to find a tutor for his sons. The eldest, the Duke of Valois,[4] was then eight years old. He consulted me on the selection of a fit person. I proposed several, among others M. de Schomberg; but, none of them meeting his favor, I said, with a laugh, ‘Well, then, what do you think of me?’ ‘Why not?’ replied he, seriously: ‘the thing is decided; you must be their tutor.’ I confess that the manner of the duke impressed me deeply with the thought of doing something so glorious to myself, and so unprecedented in the history of education. The arrangement was accordingly made, and it was agreed that I should be the absolute mistress of their education. The Duke of Chartres offered me twenty thousand francs, which I refused; and that I gratuitously educated three princes is an undisputed fact. The Duchess of Chartres was delighted with the plan; and I may truly say it was generally approved of.

“About this time, I published ‘AdÈle et ThÉodore.’ This work at once insured the suffrages of the public, and the irreconcilable hatred of all the so-called philosophers and their partisans.

“Having chosen M. Lebrun as under-governor for the young princes, I gave him private instructions relative to their education. He kept a daily journal of their studies and behavior, which I commented upon in the evening. I thought this journal would be interesting 202 to the duke and duchess; but they always refused to read it, saying that they confided entirely in me. I found some very bad habits in my pupils. When I read history to them, the Duke of Valois yawned and stretched himself, sometimes lying down on the sofa, and putting his feet upon the table. I reproved him for this in such a manner that he felt no resentment. As soon as the sense of the thing was clearly presented to him, he listened with attention.

“Every Saturday we received company at ‘Belle Chasse.’ I established this rule to form the princes in politeness, and to accustom them to the habit of listening to conversation. When Mademoiselle Orleans was seven years old, she played on the harp in a surprising manner. I can truly say, that I never knew a single defect in this princess. She possessed all the virtues. The Duke of Montpensier, the second son, had a feeling and generous heart, a natural elegance of person, and something romantic about his face, disposition, and manners. The youngest of the three princes, the Count of Beaujolais, was equally charming in face, talent, and disposition. Even his faults were amiable. We thought that he resembled Henry IV. To continue the portraits of ‘Belle Chasse,’ I must speak of Pamela. She had a beautiful face; she never told a single falsehood; she ran like Atalanta, but her mind was lazy to a degree; she had no memory, and was very volatile.

“The Duke of Orleans purchased St. Leu, a charming residence, where we passed eight months of the year. There was a fine garden, in which my pupils dug with their own hands. The gardener was a 203 German, and only spoke to them in German; in our walks we spoke English, and we supped in Italian. I invented little games, and dramatic pieces for representation, and we performed historic pictures. In the winter, at Paris, I continued to make every moment useful. I had a turning machine put in my chamber, and all the children learned to turn. We also made morocco portfolios, baskets, artificial flowers, and the Duke of Valois and the Duke of Montpensier made a table with drawers for a poor woman of St. Leu.

“Upon the death of his father, the old Duke of Orleans, the Duke of Chartres took the title of Orleans, and my eldest pupil that of Chartres.

“Amidst all my engagements, I continued my private studies with ardor, and soon published my ‘VeillÉss du Chateau.’ I also wrote my ‘Palace of Truth,’ and the ‘Two Reputations,’ at this time. The former work was translated, in the course of a year, into all the European languages. My first work upon religion, which I wrote for my pupils, completed the degree of horror in which I was held by the philosophers. It was entitled ‘Religion considered as the only Basis of Happiness and true Philosophy.’ While writing this work, I experienced the greatest misfortune of my life. My eldest daughter died, at the age of twenty-one. She expired with the calmness and piety of an angel. Being unable to find any relief from my affliction, I set about finishing my work on religion; and, on looking at the place where I left off, I found it was the chapter ‘On Christian Resignation.’

“Grief had so great an effect upon me, that my physicians directed me to go to Spa. Thither the 204 duke and duchess and my pupils accompanied me. This took place in July, 1787.

“It was now becoming the fashion to ridicule the monarchy, and preparations were making for the revolution. I was of no party but that of religion. I desired to see the reformation of certain abuses, and I saw with joy the demolition of the Bastile. It is impossible to give an idea of the sight; this redoubtable fortress was covered with men, women, and children, all working with unequalled ardor.

“As soon as the Duke of Chartres had attained his seventeenth year, the Duke of Orleans informed me that his education was at an end; but the Duke of Chartres was so attached to me that he said he would come daily till he was eighteen, to take his lessons as usual. He never failed to do this, which was admirable in a young prince who had now become his own master.

“During my residence at ‘Belle Chasse,’ my second daughter, PulchÉrie, married the Viscount de Valence. She was seventeen years old, beautiful and accomplished. Soon after this event, M. de Genlis came into possession of the property of the MarÉchale d’EtrÉe. On finding himself suddenly possessed of one hundred thousand francs a year, he urged me to quit ‘Belle Chasse,’ and reside with him. But I could not support the idea that any one else should finish the education of my pupils, and carry from me all the honors. I have since bitterly repented this failure in my duty. M. de Genlis now took the name of Marquis de Sillery.

“Having always felt an extreme desire of travelling in England, I separated from my pupils for the first 205 time. My journey was marked by many distinctions. I received proofs of esteem from many distinguished persons—Fox, Sheridan, Burke, Miss Burney, &c. The Prince of Wales invited me to an entertainment, and was full of attention to me. I passed three days at the country-house of the celebrated Mr. Burke; here I met Sir Joshua Reynolds. I dined with the queen at Windsor. Lord Mansfield, the celebrated English judge, came to see me, and gave me a beautiful moss-rose tree. Horace Walpole invited me to breakfast in his Gothic priory. After having visited Wales, I returned at length to France. I arrived at St. Leu, after an absence of six weeks, to the great joy of my pupils, as well as my own.

“A short time after, the marriage of Mademoiselle d’Orleans with the Duke of AngoulÊme was resolved on. An interview took place between them at Versailles, and the marriage was publicly talked of. The revolution, which suddenly burst upon us at this time, overthrew all our plans and projects.

“I was soon called upon to feel the most heart-rending sorrow at the death of my mother, whom I tended during three whole days and nights, without ever going to bed, or leaving her for a moment. My pupils wished, of their own accord, to be present at the funeral, for they truly loved her, and joined most sincerely and affectionately in grief for her loss.

“It now became obvious that a melancholy change had taken place in the conduct of the Duchess of Orleans to me, after twenty years of the warmest and closest intimacy. In consequence of this, I determined on retiring from her household altogether. 206 My feelings were still more aggravated by the want of any specific charge, or any explanation on the part of the duchess. I wrote a letter to the duke, asking leave to resign my place; but this he would not grant, promising to arrange affairs in a few days. In the interval, Mademoiselle, seeing me sorrowful and dejected, perceived the plan I had in view. One day, she swooned away in the garden, and the consequence was, a promise from me, ‘that I would not leave her of my own free will.’ I then wrote a long explanatory letter to the duchess, using all possible arguments to induce her to restore me to her confidence. This she did not do, but consented to meet me as usual, and to allow her family to suppose the ‘difference’ between us adjusted: at the same time, she desired that not a word should pass between us relative to our misunderstanding.

“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 207 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 208 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 209 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 210 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. CrÉpin, 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 211 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 212 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 213 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 214 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 215 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 ‘PrÉcis 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 AbbÉ SiÈyes, 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 216 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 EmigrÉs,’ and in the evening, I occupied myself with the ‘Voeux TÉmÉraires.’ 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 217 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 218 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.