m^nmn/y-m^M^^i^N^n/t

o.

MEMOIRS

COUNTESS DE GENLIS,

ILLUSTRATIVE OP

THE HISTORY OF THE

EIGHTEENTH AND NINETEENTH CENTURIES.

WRITTEN BY HERSELF

NEW YORK .
WILDER & CAMPBELL, BROADWAY.
PHILADELPHIA :
R. H. SMALL, CHESNUT-STREET. 1825.

Viinderpool & Cole, Printers

PREFACE.

That every author ought to be responsible for his work.
is an incontestable truth; and it is universally acknow
ledged, that there is something cowardly in the publication
of a work at once anonymous and personal ; for however
well founded may be the censure it contains, the author
can only obtain a right to employ it, and consequently an
opportunity of benefiting his readers by its use, by the
avowal of his name. It is impossible that there should
not be many remarks, often of a very piquarit kind, in a
work which contains an infinite number of private anec
dotes, and a narrative of the successive events which have
occurred during more than half a century. To leaveme-
moirs behind, which the writer fears to publish during
. his life-time, is an act which throws a suspicion over their
veracity, and is as it were, a profanation of the sacred
and inaccessible asylum of the tomb. That last refuge
of oppressed innocence ought not to be the hiding-place
of those pusillanimous writers, be they who they may, who
dare not publish their history to the world, till they are
enveloped in its dark bosom. The sepulchral stone is
mute ; and since it cannot be interrogated, it ought but to

IV PREFACE.
echo its touching reply to the vows of religion and- the
regrets of friendship. The authenticity of memoirs (es
pecially in days of trouble and of faction) is never incon
testable in the eyes of the world, but when the author
permits his contemporary narratives to appear during his
life-time ; for even if posthumous writings are perfectly
accurate and faithful, the public may always believe they
are falsified.
The efforts of malevolence have never succeeded in
fixing upon any of my works a single falsehood, or a single
erroneous citation; yet these works contain many severe
remarks. I have never however allowed myself to employ
such severity, but for the interest of reUgion and morals,*
and I have constantly praised every one frankly, (even
my enemies,) when they have been blameless in these
particulars ; the same honesty and impartiality will be
traced throughout these memoirs, which will be useful, be
cause they are true, and because neither malignity nor
resentment have dictated a single line in them.
It is with regret that I have been compelled in these
memoirs to mention a part of the behaviour of the late
Madame de Montesson, my aunt, towards me ; I say apart,
for I have been careful to avoid entering into all the de
tails which I might have given on the subject ; the omis
sion of my own justification would have cost me no re
gret ; but it was impossible for me to sacrifice that of my
mother and brother, who, as will be seen throughout the
work, are constantly implicated in the narrative.! But
* Though the late M. Suard has asserted in one of his printed works,
that my only eminent talent was my severity. If this is the case, I can boast
that I have not abused my only talent.
+ As well as an unfortunate prince, who has since sullied his fame by
an action at once horrible and inexcusable, but who, at the period to which

PREFACE. V
even in proving from facts that Madame de Montesson
was never my benefactress, and that she has never in her
life done me a single service, I have always spoken of
her without animosity ; I have never attacked her char-
racter or reputation ; I have even justified her from a ca
lumnious report generally believed; I have done justice
to her good qualities ; and I have related of her a charming
anecdote, which was hitherto unknown.
I may boast of being the first author who has set the
useful example of publishing my memoirs during my life
time ; and 1 have some merit in taking such a resolution,
because I believed that persons in general would condemn
it in the common-place phrases applied with so little dis
cernment, and which yet make so much impression on the
unreflecting : I knew that such persons would say, " that
it was wrong to place myself so prominently on the scene,"
— " that a woman should avoid notoriety," &c. &x.
Ah author must be pretty well accustomed to publicity,
who has already produced many volumes and who has
been engaged for more than half a century in attacking
all pernicious doctrines, and consequently the philosophists ;
so that for a long time past I have been completely im
passive to the unjust attacks, satirical remarks, libels, and
the dread of prominent publicity. Besides, in an age
when the biography of contemporaries is so regulalry pub
lished, it becomes almost an obligation upon those, who
I allude, had discovered only sentiments the most humane and generous ;
and who, as I shall prove, had conducted himself towards Madame de Mon
tesson in the noblest manner. I have elsewhere said, that " a wish to de
fame the virtuous, shows a perverted mind : but there is cowardice in ca
lumniating the guilty ;" and I shall add here, that " when they are unjustly
accused on some points, it is cowardly not to justify them when we can."

VJ PREFACE.
)
have taken the trouble to write their memoirs, to publish
them, in order to correct multitudes of errors and invo
luntary calumnies.*
* For example, some one has thought proper unknown to me, and with
out consulting my family, to place in three biographical works an abridge
ment of my life. Among other mistakes, the editor seems to be ignorant,
that before my marriage I was a canoness ; that I never bore the name he
gives me, at the time he alludes to ; and he states that M. de Genlis married
me on account of my great literary reputation. I was then seventeen, and
certainly I did not myself forsee that I should one day have the courage to
become an author. It is also stated that the late Madame de Montesson
was aunt of Madame de Genlis, whereas she was my mother's sister. From
these instances, may be gathered the value of such contemporary histories.

MEMOIRS

OF

MADAME DE GENLIS.

Most of my cotemporaries have left behind them me
moirs of the history of their lives, or at least of a long
series of years. I have read all these memoirs : they re
fer to the time in which I have lived ; they treat of events
which have taken place under my own eyes, and of which
I had myself collected the details in a private journal to
which I added something daily during the fifteen consecu
tive years which I passed in the very highest circles.* All
the memoirs which have been published up to the present
* In quitting France, I entrusted my journals to my daughter, who
having been shut up in prison was unable to attend to their preservation.
These MSS. which were all in my own hand-writing, have been lost,
with many others which I could not carry with me : but their contents
are completely impressed on my memory, for besides having consigned
them to paper, I have often read them over to my friends. I have pre
served only four volumes of these journals, and have lost three of them.
One volume, written at the Palais Royal, contained throughout little more
than the dfetails of the vexations which Madame du N . . . . made me un
dergo — of whom I shall say nothing farther, both because her adven
tures have since become so notorious, and because she herself has been
imprisoned for the rest of her life. I knew her History perfectly when I
wrote the history of what I had suffered through her ; yet I solemnly
protest, that throughout this very volume, I had not said a single word
against her reputation or her conduct. This volume is the only one of
my journals in which 1 have spoken much of myself. I do not regret

8 MEMOIRS OF,,
year (1812) contain a vast number of scandalous anec
dotes. I have constantly abstained from collecting these ;
and I shall be able throughout this work to refute many
of them, and without any suspicion of partiality, for they
are foreign to myself, and often fall upon individuals who
have been my personal enemies. The desire of perform
ing this act of justice has strongly contributed to inspire
me with the idea of publishing these memoirs. Besides
I have known almost all the literary men of the present
century, and my youth has been passed during the ma
turity and the old age of those belonging to the last. I
have thus persuaded myself that I should leave notices,
(which will be good because they will be true,) of the
literature of more than half a century. I thought also,
that having spent a great part of my life at court, and in
the great world, - 1 could give a faithful picture of a state
of society now broken up or extinct; and of a century
not only passed away, biit absolutely effaced from the
minds of the existing generation. I conceived in the third
place, that my own literary life was not entirely des
titute of interest ; and that it would be somewhat cu
rious to see how a person, who has always loved solitude,
tranquillity, and the elegant arts, and whose character
was naturally mild, timid, and reserved, could make up
her mind to cause so much noise in the world, to figure
the loss of it; for I should not have made use of its contents in these
memoirs. The second volume, which has been lost, formed a part of my second jour
ney into England, undertaken since the revolution. The third contained a
methodical, detailed, and luminous account of all the manufactories I have
seen during twenty-five years-, throughout France, and in my travels, with
reflections on the improvements in the sciences and the mechanical arts,
and on the amelioration of the condition of apprentices. I regret this
volume much; it might have been useful, and was the fruit of a great
many journeys, much expense, and long study, which last, by the way,
has enabled me to have the pleasure of rectifying many errors and over
sights in the Encyclope'die. To this volume was added a MS. in sheets,
entitled A Critical Enqif,iry (on the same subject) which is also lost.
{Jfote by the Author)

.MADAME DE CEiiLis. i>
so much upon the scene, and to engage herself in disputes
without end.
If I were conscious in my heart of the slightest resent
ment — of any rancour against the persons of whom I am
to speak, I would give up this work, lest there should
creep into it in spite of myself, some trait of bitterness or
spleen : but I can protest, with the most scrupulous regard
to truth, that there exists not in my breast a single malevo
lent feeling towards any human being, and that thr&ugh-
out my life, I would never have refused to render a ser
vice, even in secret, to the worst of my enemies, had I "
possessed the opportunity of doing so. At sixty-six, when
we have suffered much, and are worn out with many fa
tigues, we see the inevitable darkness of the tomb ap
proaching so near us, that there needs no great effort of
imagination to fancy ourselves already enveloped in its
gloom ! There all mortal illusions disappear, all our little
vanities sink to their true value, all our enmities cease
 From the depths of the grave a single cry has
arisen since the beginning of the world ; it implores for
mercy! The Sovereign Judge replies to the cry but in
these words, "Hast thou forgiven ?"  " Yes, O
Lordi! I have pardoned without reserve, and 'from the
depth of that soul which -thou hast created but to know
and to love thee ; of that soul formed for a love so sub
lime, and. which every sentiment of hatred sullies and per
verts  I have, pardoned, I take thee alone to wit
ness ; deign then to guide my pen, and suffer not a word
of bitterness to escape from it ; and if I have committed
any injustice, recall it to my mind, that I may repair it in
this book, and that thou mayest hot hereafter lay it to" my
charge. Let candour and goodness of heart be pre-emi
nent throughout my work, and let every thing be pure
that it may be useful."*
* These memoirs were commenced long before the time mentioned
here : I had written a vast number of detached parts at Belle-Chasse :
& 2

10 * MEMOIRS OF
I was born on the 25th of January, 1746, on a little
estate in Burgundy, near Autun, called Champceri, by
corruption, it is said, of Champ de Ceres, (the field of
Ceres,) the original name of the ground. I was bom so
small and so weakly that they >_ would not venture to put
me in swaddling 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 the huge flaps
of his coat to sit down, some one saw that he was going
to place himself in the arm-chair where I was ; luckily
he was prevented from sitting down, and I escaped being
crushed to death. ,1 had a nurse who suckled me at the
chateau ; she concealed the fact of being four months ad
vanced in her pregnancy, and fed me with wine mixed
with water, and a little of the crumb of barley-bread passed
through a sieve, without giving me a drop of milk of any
kind. This singular kind of food$ which is called in Bur
gundy miaulee, succeeded with rae completely; and .with
an abearance of delicate health, I acquired an excellent
constitution. I experienced in my childhood a series of
urifopunate accidents. At eighteen months old, I fell into
» 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, which burst' at the ear after forty days, and con
trary 'io all expectation I was saved. A short time after
ward,- 1 fell into the kitchen fire : this accident did not in
jure my face, but there are to this day two marks of it on
and the third volume, almost entirely, during the emigration. I have
since, only had to put together .and arrange all these fragments. (JVote
by the Author.) %

"MADAME DE GENLIS. 11
my body. Thus often was endangered, in its earliest years,
that life which was afterward to prove so chequered!
My education has been so singular, that I cannot help
giving some account of it here. My father sold the estate
of Champceri 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 gar
den and beautiful terrace upon the Loire, and of the cha
teau of Mienne, a league from Cosne, where we went so
often, remains indelibly engraved on my memory. Pass
ing by that road, thirty-five years after, I instantly recog
nised 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 seignorial rights. ' I have
never thought without a feeling of tenderness of this spot,
which was once so dear to me, and in which six years of
innocence and happiness glided away ! Oh, how much
sweeter it is to me, as I write, to recall to my mind the
walks and the sports of my happy childhood, than the
pomp and the splendour of the palaces I have since in
habited ! . . . All these courts, once so brilliant, are
now faded ! all the projects which were then built with
so much confidence are become chimeras ! The impene
trable future has cheated alike the security of princes and
the ambition of courtiers! ( Versailles is dropping into
ruin ; the delicious gardens of ChantUly ^ of Villers-Cote-
rets, of Sceaux, of the Isle- Adam, are destroyed ! I
should now look in vain for the vestiges of that fragile
grandeur which I once admired there: but I should find
the banks of the Loire as smiling as ever, the meadows
of St. Aubin as full of violets and lilies of the valley;
and its woods loftier and fairer ! There are no vicissi
tudes for the eternal beauties of nature ; and while amidst
blood-stained revolutians, palaces, marble columns, statues
of bronze, and even cities themselves disappear, the sim-

12 MEMOIRS OP
pie flower of the fields, regardless of the storm, grows
into beauty, -and multiplies for ever.
The chateau of St. Aubin resembled those which Mrs.
Radcliffe has since described. It was ancient and ruinous,
and had bid towers, and immense courtyards, in one of
which was a canal (bordered with ebony trees, which were
then very rare,) filled with fine carp. Though but a step
from the Loire, the chateau was so awkwardly built, that
you could not see that beautiful river from any of its win
dows. I was lodged on the ground floor, in a Uttle damp
room which opened upon a terrace, at the bottom of which
there was a large pond.* My mother inhabited the other
side of the building ; I was separated from her by a room
where my gouvernante slept, and by a vast saloon. The
rooms on the first floor were appropriated to strangers.
The nearest town to us was Bourbon Lancy, two leagues
from St. Aubin ;, my father was lord of the manor. There
were mineral and hot baths in the town, which were at
that time a good deal frequented; we were six leagues
from Moulins, and twelve from Autun.
In going from the chateau, you found yourself on the
banks of the Loire, and on the opposite shore, facing the
ehateau, was the famous abbey of Sept-Fonts, of which
also my father was seigneur, a circumstance which pro
duced an intimate connexion between my father and the
reljgious persons of that order. We sometimes went to
dine at the abbey, where there was always an apartment
allotted to visiters. It was one of my greatest pleasures
to cross the Loire in a boat, to go and dine at Sept-Fonts.
Besides, I had such a veneration for these holy men, that

* The little tower where I slept is all that has been preserved of the
ancient building. The inhabitants of that part of the country remembered
that that tower was my chamber in my childhood ; and with a feelin°-
which was most touching to me, would not suffer it to be pulled down.
This fact I learned from the Marquis of Aligrfi, now the proprietor of the
estate of St. Aubin. — (Note by the Author.)

MADAME DE GENLIS. 13
I was never tired of gazing upon those who came to sit
with us : I knew that in their abbey a perpetual silence
was observed, and it seemed to me as curious to hear
them speak, as to hear articulate sounds from the lips of
a person born dumb. When we were once fixed at St.
Aubin, my education began to be attended to. Mademoi
selle 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 al
lowed to play together all day long. We passed part of
the day in the court-yards or in the garden, and in the
evening we played in the drawing-room. My father, find
ing our games too noisy, bethought him of making us play
at the fathers of. Sept-Fonts, in place of Madame. This
delighted us extremely ; and we substituted for our cries
and our noisy dialogue, signs, gestures, and the most
peaceable pantomime ; and the silence which would have
been vainly imposed upon us in any other way, was thus
observed with equal pleasure and attention.
I was six years old when my brother was sent to Paris,
to the famous academy of M. Bertrand, {Pension du Roule,)
the most virtuous and best instructor of his time. It was
he who invented the method of learning to read and 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 along with
her. I had an aunt at Paris, young and beautiful, called
the Countess of Bellevau, of whom I shall speak at greater
length hereafter. Madame de Bellevau had with her two
children, whom one of our relations, M. Ducrest de Chigi,
had, upon his marriage, recognised as his daughters; they
bore consequently the name of Ducrest, and no one could
juridically contest their right to it. They styled Madame
de Bellevau their aunt. I was not excessively delighted

14 MEMOIRS OF
with Paris, and for the first few days of my stay there, I
regretted St. Aubin bitterly. I had two teeth pulled out;
I had whalebone stays which pinched me terribly; my
fe'et were imprisoned in tight shoes, with which it was im
possible for me to walk ; I had three or four thousand
curl-papers put on my head; and I wore, for the first
time in niy life, a hoop. In order to get rid of my coun
try 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 awoke in the morning, and these 1 wore four
hours.* I was, moreover, not a little surprised, when they
talked of giving me a master to teach me what I thought I
knew well enough already — to walk. Besides all this, I was
forbidden to run, to leap, or to ask questions. All these
painful constraints made such an impression on me, that I
have never forgotten them, and have since faithfully de
picted them in the little comedy published in my Theatre of
Education^ called The Dove. But a great ceremony, and
the fine' entertainments which followed it, soon made me for
get my little griefs. I had only been privately ^hristened ;
I was now baptized in public : Madame de Bellevau was
my godmother, and M. Bouret, the farmer-general, my god
father.! I received some splendid presents ; and I had,
besides, plenty of sweetmeats and playthings ; and I soon
recovered my good humour. I was taken to the Opera,
which delighted me beyond measure. I shall never forget
* An excellent remedy for that bad habit, and which removed it in my
case entirely in three months. To be sure, mine was not an habitual
squint. — (Note by the Author.')
t A financier, famous for his riches and prodigality. It was Bouret who
built the superb pavilion of Croix-Fontaine, simply to receive Louis XV.
when he went to hunt in that neighbourhood. The king used to go there '
to repose from the fatigues of the chase, and found a magnificent colla
tion always ready.
Bouret died in 1778, so poor, that he could not obtain the loan of
fifty louis, of which he stood in need : and yet this splendid financier
once possessed six hundred thousand francs a year. (£24,000.)— (Note by
the Editor.)

MADAME DE GENLIS. 15
the opera which I then saw performed : it was Roland le
furieux ; and the famous Chasse, then very old, played Ro
land. Chasse made me tremble, as he tore up by the roots
the trees of the side-scenes. It is singular, that at a period
when nobility was so highly valued, this actor should have
been ennobled on^account of his voice and his fine singing.
The following epigram was made on the subject :
Dans la pastorale d'Isse
Avez-vous entendu Chasse1 ?
Ce,ri.'eist plus cette voix tonnante,
Ce ne sont plus ces grands eclats,
C'est un gentilhomme qui chante
Et qui ne se fatigue pas.*
We /went to pass a portion of the summer in a delight
ful house at Etioles, belonging to M. Le Normand, con
tractor; for the. Pastes, and the husband of Madame de
Pompadour, who was long before this time, the declared
favourite. Of all the personages I saw there, one only
struck me; and of him I have preserved such a strong
recollection, that I can picture to myself all his gestures,
his walk," his air, and the expression of his smile. It was
the Marshal de Loewendal. t , Ihad heard him called a
* Claudie Louis Dominique Le Chasse' made his first appearance on the
stage, in August 1721. He retired in 1757, with the reputation of being
the best actor, and bass singer, at the Opera, and an honest man. His ta-
lenb were rewarded by a patent of nobility, and he took the title of
Esquire and Seigneur du Ponceau. He died at Paris in 1786; at the age
of eighty-eight.
The epigram quoted by Madame de Genlis, proves that in 1752, a vehe
ment style of singing and loud notes were held in high esteem. The
opera still preserves the same taste, but that of the audience is wonder
fully changed : the singers now preferred, are by no means those who have
the loudest voices, and make the most noise. — (Note by the Editor.)
It is impossible to translate this epigram into English, and, at the same
time, to preserve its point. — (Note by the Translator.)
f The Count de Loewendal, great grandson of Frederick III. king of
Denmark, was born in 1700, and was but fifty-two years old at the time
alluded to by Madame de Genlis. Loewendal entered the army at thir
teen, and served in 1713 as a private soldier ; but in the course of a year

16 MEMOIRS OF
hero ; and I was made to understand what the word hero
meant : at that time every one sung the famous song com
posed about him, so clever of its kind :
S'ti-la. qui pincit Berg-op-Zoom
Eest un vrai moule a Te Deum, &c.
I looked upon this hero with a mingled feeling of awe
and admiration. This first impression was so strong in
me, that my features expressed my feelings with all the
candour of my age ; the Marshal was delighted with this, .
paid me a great deal of attention, and took me often on".
his knee; and with this I was infinitely more pleased than
with all that other persons could do for me.
I had changed my hoop on my arrival at Etioles for
what was called a Savoyard habit : it consisted of a little
vest of brown taffeta, with a short petticoat of the same,
trimmed with three or four rows of rose-coloured ribbon,
sewed on plain, and my head-dress was a gauze handker
chief tied under the" chin. I foun4 here once more a fine
garden ; I was allowed to gather .flowers ; I dined at the
same table with my herd ; then I ran about all day under
the trees in the garden, and at night I supped with the
eldest of my cousins, who was then but four years old.
This kind of life appeared to me delicious. About the
time of our departure, there was a grand fete given to tile
master of the house, in which I performed the allegorical
part of Friendship. -I had a pretty dress, and sung with
great applause some bad verses, which I have not yet for
gotten, so delighted was I with the glory of that day. After
this trip, my mother, my aunt, my cousin, and myself, de
parted together in an immense berline for Lyons, where
he advanced from rank to rank, and at last was made a captain, i He en
tered the service of France in 1745 ; he was Jhen lieutenant-General. The
•sieges of Menin, Ypres, Fumes, FriboUrg, Ghent, Oudenard, Ostend, Neu-
pont, Sas-de-Gand, and Bergen-op-Zoom, as well as his share in the victory
of Tontenoy, gave him a great and well-merited celebrity. — (Note by the
Editor.)

MADAME DE GENLIS, 17
my cousin and I were to be received as canonesses of the
noble chapter of Alix. As it was indispensable that the
counts of Lyons should examine into the proofs of nobili
ty of the candidates, we were detained about a fortnight
there. Our proofs being found satisfactory, we departed
for Alix, which is but a few leagues from Lyons. The
chapter formed with its immense buildings a singular ap
pearance. It was composed of a great number of pretty lit
tle houses, all alike, and each having a little garden. These
houses were so arranged, that they formed a half circle,
of which the palace of the abbess occupied the centre.
I was highly amused at Alix: the abbess and all the ladies
loaded me with caresses and sugar-plums, which gave me
a great taste for the vocation of canoness. Nevertheless
my happiness was somewhat troubled, by the dread of a
ferocious animal of an unknown species which then rava
ged the department,- and of which such horrible stories
were related, that none of our ladies durst venture to leave
the house for a walk in the country. , The government
ordered public hunting parties for its destruction; and a
few days after we left Alix this terrible animal was slain.
Fifteen years after I witnessed the renewal of a like scourge.
Every one has heard of the hyena of Gevaudan, which
committed such fearful ravages.
The day of my reception was a great day to me. The
evening which preceded it was by no means so agreeable :
I had my hair dressed, my clothes tried on, I was catechi
sed, &c. At last the happy moment, arrived; my cousin
and I were dressed in white, and conducted in pomp to the
church of the chapter. All the ladies dressed in the fashion
of the day, but wearing black satin robes over their hoops,
and large cloaks lined with ermine, were in the choir. A
priest who officiated as Grand Prior, catechised us, made
us repeat the creed, and afterward kneel upon velvet
cushions. His duty was next to cut out a small lock of our
hair; but being very old ana nearly blind, he cut my ear a-
little, but Tsupported the pain heroically, and the accident
3

18 MEMOIRS OF
was only discovered by the bleeding of the ear. After thisV
he put on my finger a consecrated gold ring, and fastened
on my head a piece of black and white stuff, about the
length of one's finger, which the canonesses called un mari
(a husband.) I was then decorated with the signs of the
order, a red ribbon with a beautiful enamalled cross, and a
broad girdle of black-watered ribbon. After the ceremony
he delivered a short exhortation; we then went and sa
luted all the canonesses before leaving the church ; and
afterward we heard high mass. The remainder of the day
after dinner, excepting the hour of church service, was
spent in entertainments, in visits which we paid to all the
ladies, and in amusing little games. From this time I was
called Madame la Comtesse de Lancy ;* my father being,
as I have already said, lord of the manor of Bourbon-Lawcy,
was the cause of my receiving that name. The pleasure I
had in hearing myself called Madame surpassed every other.
In this chapter every one had the choice of taking the vows
or not at the age prescribed or later : but those who did
not take them gained nothing by their reception into the
order but the title of lady and countess, and the right of
wearing its decorations. Those ladies who took the vows,
got in time considerable prebends : those who did riot, were
not obliged to reside in the chapter; but those who did,
i» were not only prevented froni marrying, but compelled to,
reside in the chapter two years out of every three, passing
the year of liberty, however, where they chose. There
was in this chapter, as in several others, a sort of adoption
formerly recognised by the statutes. Every canoness who
had taken the vows had a right to adopt for her niece a
young canoness not of the chapter, on condition that the
' young person on coming of age should take the vows, arid
that in the mean time, she should live constantly with her
adoptive aunt. The latter might in this case bequeath to
her niece her jewels, her furniture, her house, and her pre-.
* All the canonesses of Alix had a right to bear the title of countess :.
and I bore the name of Lancy until my marriage. — (Note by the Autlurf.)

MADAME DE GENLIS. 19
bend. The countess of Clugny, one of our relations, and a
canoness of the chapter, offered to adopt me. She was
rich, and urged my mother strongly to consent to the adop
tion : my life would doubtless have been far more tranquil
had that consent been obtained.
We quitted Alix after a stay of six weeks; I wept bit
terly in parting with these amiable canonesses: my at
tachments were at that time strongly and easily formed.
At Lyons we separated from my aunt and my corisin, who
returned to Paris, while we took the road to Burgundy.
On our arrival we found our home a house of mourning :
my mother had given birth to a son the year before, whom
my father caused to be received as a knight of Malta
from his cradle ; a circumstance' which was always in the
end eminently advantageous in taking the vows, and per
forming the campaigns required by the order.* It was
thus that the fathers of these days disposed of the destiny
of their children— -and it must be allowed, with some
what of indifference. The poor infant had just died, at
eighteen irionths old! I had a sister who died in the
same way in infancy. I have ever since regretted her ;
what a friend is a sister! I am sure I should have pas
sionately loved mine.
I was now seven years old, and, with a fine voice,, I dis
covered much taste for music. My mother had made ar
rangements at Paris for bringing out of Lower Brittany a
young woman, the daughter of the organist of Vannes, an
excellent musician, who played admirably on the harp
sichord. We found at Saint Aubin a good instrument, an
old Rucker from Moulins, and we looked with the utmost
impatience for the arrival of Mademoiselle de Mars,
which was the name of the young musician. At last she
came, to my great satisfaction: without being what could
* The words of the original are " faire des Caravanes :" a phrase which
the academy explains thus : " The word Caramaness signifies the cruises
which the Knights of Malta are obliged to make at sea, to acquit them
selves of the service due to their order."— r-(Note by the Translator.)

20 Memoirs of
be balled pretty, she bad fine eyes, expressive features,
great mildness of manner, and a sober and even grave
air,, though she was but , sixteeri. I became attached to
her from the first, and my attachment was , as lasting as
lively. She was charged to instruct and to direct me in
every thing: I was given up entirely to her guidance, and,
in spite of her youth, I am convinced it would have been
impossible to have placed me in better hands.
Though Mademoiselle de Mars had nothing of what
may be called profane knowledge, she had a great deal of
natural tact, and, with a character of great mildness and
solidity, she had a generous and feeling heart, and a sincere
sense of religion.
My mother was so much occupied with her household
affairs and the visits of her neighbours, that she had no time
to attend to me : and all I had learnt up to this time was a
little of my catechism, which had been taught me by the
chambermaids among whom I lived, and who had among
other matters filled my brain with a thousand stories about
ghosts. In other respects they were excellent girls, and
.never gave me a single bad example. I soon exchanged
their society entirely for that of Mademoiselle de Mars,
which was infinitely preferable. I never saw my father and
mother but for an instant in the morning, and at the hours
of breakfast and dinner. After dinner I remained an hour
in the room ; and passed the rest of the day in my chamber
with Mademoiselle de Mars, or in taking a walk accom
panied by her only. My father* who had a fine pack of
hounds, was .often at the chase : he amused us from time to
time with a pipee (catching birds with a bird-call.) We
also went sometimes to fish on tlje Loire. Sometimes I
was allowed to go to the night fishing ; and the sight of the
fish attracted to the boats by the blaze of bunches of burn
ing straw, appeared to me quite wonderful. My father
had received from nature gifts rarely found together : his
face was singularly handsome, his figure tall and elegant ;
he had a great deal of talent and information, and had made

' MADAME DE GENLIS. 21
d. considerable figure as a scholar at the Jesuit's College, as
well as his elder brother, who died before I was born : the
latter left to the college by his will a fine cabinet of medals.
My father had some knowledge of coins, but he had chiefly
addicted himself to the study of chemistry and natural
philosophy ; he had at Saint Aubin a cabinet of philosophical
instruments ; and I have seen him, when I was an infant,
make many experiments on electricity and the air-pump.
He joined to all his acquirements a singular mildness of
character, a cultivated taste, and a feeling and generous
heart; he loved arid understood music, and played tolerably
on the French horn and the violin. He had entered into
the army when very young, and had greatly distinguished
himself. A singular circumstance occasioried his quitting
the service three years before his marriage. He was a
captain in the regiment of the Duke of Hostun, who was
exceedingly attached to him : he was in garrison with his
regiment in a country town, when a love affair which he
had at Paris induced him to go thither secretly for three
days without leave : he feigned illness, went to bed, and left
a servant who was to second his stratagem ; and under an
assumed name, he set off at midtiight on horseback and
arrived at Paris. The next night, passing by the Louvre,
he was attacked by three meri ; my father drew his sword,
placed his back to the wall, killed one of the assassins,
wounded another mortally* and put the third to flight. In
the mean time a crowd collected, the guard came up, and
my father was arrested and taken to the house of the com
missary, whither also they carried one of the assassins who
was still living. It was admitted by this wretch that my
father did what he had done in defending his life against
three robbers : but unfortunately it was necessary that my
lather should tell his name, and by so doing it would be seen
that he was at Paris without leave. My father desired to
be taken to the house of the Duke of Hostun, who was
luckily at Paris ; he reckoned upon his friendship, and was
not disappointed. The duke arranged the affair ; but he

22 MEMOIRS OF
refused to allow my father to remain longer in Paris. He
was compelled to return immediately to his garrison ; and
this annoyed him so much, that he resolved to quit the ser
vice ; and in fact he did so three months after, at the age of
thirty-two. 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 in
sects, particularly of spiders and frogs ; I was also afraid of
mice, and he made me feed and bring up one. I loved my
father to excess, and he hair such an influence over me, that
I never durst hesitate about obeying him. He would fre
quently 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 of my courage proved to me clearly that toads
are not Venomous ; but they powerfully contributed to
weaken my nerves, and , have orily augmented the antipa
thies which they were intended to remove. They have,
however, served to give me a habit of self-command, which
of itself is a great benefit. In other respects, Mademoiselle
de Mars alone had the direction of my studies ; she made
me repeat my catechism, an abridgement of the History of
Father Buffier, and gave me daily a lesson of singing, and
two on the harpsichord. In giving these last, she very pro
perly insisted that I should look attentively at the book, in
order to learn to decypher the notes ; but I had found out
a means of saving myself this trouble. I pretended to be
excessively charmed with the piece I was to learn, and under
this pretext, I made Mademoiselle de Mars play it over and
over again for two or thr,ee days. By that time I had it by
heart, and my memory and ear were sufficiently good to
enable me to play it to the great satisfaction of my teacher,
who was highly flattered by the astonishing progress I was
making in music ; while all the time I had my eyes fixed on
the book without looking at the notes, and was playing

MADAME BE GENLIS. 23
entirely by rote. As for Father Buffier, he was so very
tiresome, that he was abandoned for ever at the end of
eight days, and no one asked us any questions about the
matter. At the request of Mademoiselle de Mars, my fa
ther gave us, out of his library, the Clelia of Mademoiselle
de Scudery, and the Theatre of Mademoiselle Barbier:*
these two books were our delight for a long time ; and from
thence, at eight years old, I began to compose romances
and comedies, which 1 dictated to Mademoiselle de Mars,
for I did not yet know how to form a single letter. We
had the printed words of three or four operas, and found
great pleasure in singing them to extempore melodies, which
we composed as we sung ; this was one of our most favour
ite amusements. Amidst all this, we occupied our minds
seriously with religion : I was born with devotional feelings,
and, from my earliest infancy, have regarded the starry fir
mament not merely with delight, but with a far higher emo
tion. Mademoiselle de Mars, who had the spirit of an
angel, spoke to me often of the Deity, especially in our
solitary walks* We had no acquaintance with botany or
natural history : but we admired, with feelings of ecstacy,
the skies, the trees, and the flowers, as the works of God's
hand, and the proofs of his existence; and that idea ani
mated and embellished all nature in our eyes. It was not
a learned instructress, who loaded me with grave lessons,
but a young girl of seventeen, frill of candour, innocence,
and piety, who confided to me all her thoughts, and trans
ferred to my breast all the sentiments of her own ; and in
this respect no education could have been better than mine.
Every day after dinner, we quitted the dining-room, and in
* Mary Anne Barbier has composed tragedies, comedies, Operas, and
ballets. She often cosulted Pellagrin, which has caused her works to be
frequently attributed to theabbe\ Her Saisons Littiraires are a mixture
of poetry, history, and remarks. There is a good deal of facility and flow
in her verses ; but little elegance, and no vigour. The works of Made
moiselle Barbier have been collected in two volumes 12mo. She died m
1742.— (Note by the Editor.) [

24 , MEMOIRS OF
our own rooms, repeated the service for the Holy Virgin j
and this was to us so true a pleasure, that we experienced
the sincerest regret when any thing occurred to prevent our
performance of the pious duty. About this time I used
often, on awaking iii the night, to get out of my bed, and
prostrate myself on the floor in prayer to the Deity.
I was as happy as a child can be ; though exceedingly in
attentive, I was never scolded, nor did I ever hear of pun
ishment. I knew seven or eight pieces of music for the
harpsichord, which I played tolerably; I had a fine voice,
and could sing three or four cantatas of Clerambout, to the
delight of my parents and the admiration of our neigh
bours. Mademoiselle de Mars taught me but little; but
her conversation formed my understanding and my heart,
and in every thing she set me the example of modesty, gen
tleness, and goodness. I loved and admired her so much,
and dreaded so much to displease her, that she might have
taught me application, if she had so chosen ; but about this
she; was not very anxious ;— content with my disposition,
she was disposed to be content with every thing else, and
was unwilling to adopt in my education any kind of con
straint. From this time, I acquired a taste for the instruc
tion of children, and constituted myself schoolmistress in
a whimsical manner. I had a little room beside that of
Mademoiselle de Mars* whose chamber had a small door
which communicated with the drawing-room ; mine opened
only into hers; but my window, in front of the chateau,
was not quite five feet from the ground ; below the window
was a large terrace covered with sand, with a wall breast
high, but of great depth on the outside, and extending along
a pond, which was only separated from the wall by a nar
row road covered with rushes and grass.
The little boys of the village used to come to this'
spot to play and gather rushes; I liked to look on as
tfiey played, and soon took it into my head to give
them lessons, that is to say, to teach them all I knew
myself — my chatechism, some lines out of Mademoiselle

MADAME DE GENLIS. 25
Barbier's tragedies, and what I had by heart of the princi
ples of music. Leaning against the wall of the terrace,
I gave them these excellent lessons in the gravest possible
manner. I had great difficulty in making them learn to
repeat verses, on account of their Burgundy accent, (patois,)
but I was patient, and they were docile. My little scho
lars, ranged along the wall, amidst reeds and rushes, look
ed up and listened to me with the profoundest attention,
for I promised them rewards, which consisted in fruits,
sweetmeats, and all sorts of trifles. I went almost every
day to my school, getting out of my room by the window,
to which I fastened a cord, by means of which I let my
self slide down upon the terrace ; I was light and active,
and I never had a fall. After my school hours, I came
round by one of the courts, and entered my chamber by
the dining-room, without being observed. I always selected
for these frolics the post-days, while Mademoiselle de Mars
was writing to her relations, on which occasion she used
to be so entirely absorbed in her despatches, that she did
not pay the least attention to what was passing around
her ; so that I kept my school very peaceably for a long
time, and besides, I came back always at an hour when
my mother was riot in the drawing-room. At last Made
moiselle de Mars caught me one day in the midst >of my
school, but she gave me no reprimand: however, she
laughed so much at the style in which my scholars de
claimed the verses of Mademoiselle Barbier, that she dis
gusted me with my learned functions.
The first real and profound grief I suffered was on the
departure of my father, who went to Paris, assuring us
that he would return in six months. I loved my father.
as 1 have always loved my friends, with a strength and.
devotion of which few hearts are capable. Grief for his
departure affected my health, and my grief was no other
wise allayed by time, than as it gave me the hope of soon
seeing him again. At the end of three months, my mo-
' 4

26 MEMOIRS or
ther resolved on preparing a fete for his return. She had
a great natural talent for poetry; and though not very
well acquainted with its rules, has written some very
charming verses. She. composed a kind of comic opera, in
the pastoral style, with a mythological prologue, in which I
played Love. All the chambermaids, and my mother had
four, . all young and pretty, had parts to perform : be
sides this, there was to be a tragedy, and Iphigenia in
Aulis was fixed upon : my mother played Clytemnestra,
and I, Iphigenia. A physician of Bourbon-Lancy, called
Doctor Pinot, took the part of -Agamemnon; his eldest
son, a youth of eighteen, was prodigiously applauded as
the fiery Achilles, and he was, in truth, fiery enough.
His theatric genius had conceived all the contortions, the
convulsions, the stampings of the foot, and the terrific
cries, which have since been' so much applauded on the
Parisian stage ; I hid myself in order to laugh, for, even
at that age, false emphasis and all forced emotions ap
peared to me exceedingly ridiculous. Mademoiselle de
Mars thought as I did, and we amused ourselves secretly
in our own room, with imitating this great actor, whom
we durst not ridicule at the rehearsals. My mother, to
furnish our costume, sacrificed her handsomest dresses.
I still recollect, that, in the prologue, my dress was rose
colour, under point lace, ornamented with little artificial
flowers of all colours; it reached only to my knee, and
I had little boots, straw colour and silver, my long hair
flowing, and azure wings. My dress, as Iphigenia, over a
large hoop, was of China silk, cherry colour and silver
trimmed with sables. As my mother had no diamonds,
she ordered from Moulins a prodigious quantity of false
stones, to complete our magnificent, dresses. In the pro
logue, there was a passage which pleased me mightily,
and of which the idea was certainly original. I repre
sented Love, as Ihave said before; a little boy of the
village was Pleasure; and I sung a couplet, in which I

MADAME DE GENLIS. 27
was supposed to address myself to my father, which end
ed with — Au Plaisir j'arracheles ailes
Pour le mieux fixer pr§s de vous
As I finished, I was to run to little Pleasure, and to pluck
off his wings ; but it happened one day, at a grand dress-
rehearsal, that his wings, being too firmly fastened, resist
ed: I shook Pleasure in vain — his wings refused to yield;
I fell furiously upon Pleasure, and threw him down; he
cried piteously, but I never quitted my hold, until I
succeeded in plucking off the wings of displeased Pleasure,
who roared with vexation.
We had many dress-rehearsals, in the presence of a
great number of spectators ; this lasted three months, du
ring which time the theatre was put in order. Then we
played another tragedy, Zaire, whose part was, assigned to
me; Mademoiselle de Mars played Fatima. I had so
natural an ear for verse, that I corrected those who
marred its harmony. We played also the Folies Amour-
eiises, of Regnard ; I performing Agathe. We called these
performances rehearsals, but they were, in fact, real repre
sentations ; immense crowds came to see them from Bour-
bon-Lancy and Moulins ; and these continual fetes must
have been given at great expense. My dress, as Love,
was found to become me so well, that I wore it regularly.
I had several made on the same pattern ; I had one dress
for the week-days, and another for Sundays. On the lat
ter, when I went to church, the wings were omitted, and
I wore a taffeta cloak, of a deep red colour, which cov
ered me from head to foot. But I went daily to walk in
the country, wearing all the attributes of Love, a quiver
on my back, and a bow in my hand. At home, my mother
and all her friends in the neighbourhood, never after gave
me any other name than Love. Such was my costume,
and such were my occupations, for more than nine
months, I have described this odd kind of education in the

28 MEMOIRS OF
history of the Countess of Rosmond, in the Rival Mothers,
and I have no where in the romance exaggerated its singu
larity ; for, in my own, there was an inconceivable mixture of
pious and profane matters ; for example, I always followed
the processions of the Fete Dieu, dressed as an angel.
At that time people reasoned very little, and did a great
"many whimsical things with the most unconscious simplicity,
especially in the country, where the bonhommie of the neigh
bourhood of the Chateaux was carried to its height. There
has always been gossiping and scandal in small towns ; but
there was, at that time, none of it among the persons who
lived near the great houses — a proof that the more you live
privately and enfamille, the less you are tempted to be ca
lumnious and meddling. I dwell upon these little peculi
arities, because they have had a powerful influence on the
rest of riiy existence : the impressions received in childhood,
when they are lively, are never to be erased. My singular
education produced on my imagination and my disposition
a mixture of the religious and the romantic, of which, per
haps, too many traces will be found in most of my writings.
The excessive applauses which were bestowed on my per
formances, both in tragedy and comedy, did not intoxicate
me. Mademoiselle de Mars, without attempting to subdue
my vanity by moral reflections, attached in reality so little
importance to successes of this description, that the sense
of this alone was sufficient to prevent these praises from ren
dering me proud. Without the least affectation, she praised
me only for what belonged to the heart and the character, or
rather, at such times, she caressed me, and seemed to love
me more ; this made a great impression upon me— others'
praise none. With regard to my singular costume, at first,
indeed, she laughed a little, but I maintained, without any
unbecoming warmth, that it was a ver^ convenient dress :
" Oh, very well," said she ; and from that time, she took no
further notice of it.
I was not particularly delighted with the nonsense which
was repeated to me on my wearing the dress of Love ; those

MADAME DE GENLIS. 29
who loaded me most with flatteries on the subject were pre
cisely the persons whom I thought the most tiresome and
ridiculous among our acquaintance, so that I was in no dan
ger from their eulogies. What pleased me the most with
my dress was its singularity, as I have always had a taste
for what ever is uncommon. One of my greatest delights,
at this time, was to build castles in the air ; I figured for my
self a destiny, which I not only filled up with extraordinary
events, but introduced into it reverses of fortune, and per
secutions, and loved to fancy that I should have the courage
to resist them. A thousand times I have supposed myself
proscribed, calumniated, and a wanderer, forced to conceal
myself under feigned names, and to live by the labour of
my hands. At the close of these romances, I never failed
to fancy that I had triumphed over my enemies ; but this
part of my history amused me but little — it cooled my im
agination, and I concluded it abruptly. These exercises of
the intellect, these inventions which accustomed me to fa
miliarize myself with ideas of persecution and misery, have
not been useless to me' in the end. I must say, to my own
praise, (and it is a thing which distinguishes me from all
other persons of a -romantic fancy,) that I never sought
for events, but as a means of displaying the qualities of the
soul which I most admired, patience, courage, and presence
of mind ; and it was for this reason that I always placed
myself amidst situations of misfortune. Thus there was
at the bottom of these reveries of mine a love of glory and
virtue which rendered them remarkable, especially in an
infant. Besides this, I had a particular aversion to all that
makes a sensation in society — to gossipings, scandal, busy-
bodies, &c. I loved peace of mind and solitude, and hated
all these little agitations ; and no one has ever possessed in
a higher degree than myself, throughout my life, the spirit of
peace and conciliation.
Mademoiselle de Mars had so much gentleness in her dis
position, and attached so little importance to little matters.

30 MEMOIRS OF
that she did not make me feel my own defects : and I was
unconscious then of any but 'a little bluntness of manner
and a great deal of vivacity. I was docile and naturally
complaisant : I had no pride, nor caprice, nor rancour, but
I could not brook delay in the performance of any promise
made to me ; and in such cases I got angry, and would say
many impertinent things. Mademoiselle de Mars, though
always calm, was nevertheless not free from faults: she
was sometimes sullen, and when I happened to have uttered
an unbecoming word to her, she was slow in forgiving. But
such quarrels were very rare between us ; my vivacity
and my rudeness were generally confined to the chamber
maids, or to one of our neighbours who came often to the
chatteau, and to whom I had conceived a violent aversion.
This antipathy was so singular, that I cannot pass it over
here. I do not believe in the physiognomical rules of La-
vater, but I believe that nature has endowed some individuals
with a precious instinct — that of judging the soul by the
impression produced by the face ; and I am certain I possess
that instinct. The personage I so hated was a gentleman
who was said to belong to the ancient house of Chalons, now
long extinct: he styled himself M. de-Chalons, and he was
then upwards of thirty ; though rich, he had always refused
to marry, under pretext of being extremely devout ; and
he had such a reputation for piety, that he almost passed
for a saint. His face was rather handsome, but he had a
manner of looking at you from the corner of his eye, and
by stealth, which first inspired me with an aversion to him.
I remarked also that at church he made many pious con
tortions ; and his uplifted eyes, and hands crossed on his
breast, were not at all edifying to me. In short, I considered
him a hypocrite, and the event proved him one of the most
wicked monsters ever heard of; one who had cohimitted
many atrocious crimes, which were discovered in the fol
lowing manner. Encouraged by the reputation he had
usurped, he at last counted upon it too far ; and heaven suffer-

MADAME DE GENLIS. 31
ed him to be so blinded as to commit crimes which were sure
to be discovered. Under the pretext of repairing his house
hold linen, he brought from Autun a pretty young seamstress,
whom he had seen in that town ; he detained her in his cha
teau about six weeks, after which she disappeared. He
wrote to her mother that she had run off with a lover, and
at the same time he begged her to send him the girl's young
est sister, who was also extremely pretty, as the repairing
of his linen, he said, was not yet finished. She was sent to
him ; in two months she disappeared alsoj and the monster
wrote to the mother that she had followed the example of
her sister, and had taken flight as she did. This time how
ever the unfortunate mother, enlightened by her despair, laid
her complaint before the judge, who gave orders for a search
throughout the house of M. de Chalons. The wretch, who
had information of this, took flight, and was never after
ward heard of; but Providence has surely overtaken him,
and caused him to perish in his obscure hiding place. An
examination of his chateau took place ; marks of blood
ill washed out were visible in one of his cabinets, there
were deadly poisons found in a cupboard, and in the garden
were several skeletons of his last-buried victims ! The body
of the first of the young girls was recognized by means of
a ring of hair, with a motto, which he had left upon her
finger ! . . . Thus my antipathy for the monster was com
pletely justified by the sequel.
Amidst our rehearsals and our fetes, an incident suffi
ciently singular threw our family one evening into the ut
most consternation at the chateau. It was at this time that
the famous Mandrin, at the head of his troop, committed so
many robberies throughout Burgundy ; he professed only to
be the enemy of the farmers-general and their dependants ;
nevertheless, from time to time he levied contributions upon
persons who had nothing to do with his professed foes. One
evening, some one came to tell us that a considerable troop,
wearing uniforms similar to those worn by Mandrin's band,
had arrived in the village ; that the commander of the troop

32 MEMOIRS OF
styled himself colonel, and called himself Marquis of Bre-
teuil,* though there was little doubt that it was Mandrin
himself. This account spread alarm throughout the cha
teau j my mother was much frightened, and Mademoiselle
de Mars still more, and M. Corbier, our steward, did not,
on this great occasion, make any brilliant show of valour.
My mother sent him into the village to get some information
on the subject ; he returned in a panic, and told us that the
commander and his officers, who were lodging at the village
inn, had all most alarming visages ; that they were making
a hideous riot, and that it was impossible to mistake them
for any bthers than Mandrin and his accomplices. In a few
minutes afterward, we received a message, to announce a
visit from this terrible Marquis de Breteuil.t Our terror
was at its -height : as for myself, I found that curiosity is
sometimes stronger than fear, for I had never seen a robber,
and I expressed a strong desire to see Mandrin. At this cri
tical moment arrived Father Antoine, a Capuchin who had
performed the office of cure three months, our rector being
dead. This worthy Capuchin was possessed of a great deal
of courage, as he had proved on several occasions when fires
had taken place, and at such times he had often risked his
life with an intrepidity truly admirable. We all esteemed
him much : he had given me images and chaplets, he was
my confessor, and I had for him an equal feeling of attach
ment and respect. These sentiments, which he was worthy
of inspiring, have impressed me, throughout my life, with a
feeling of respect towards Capuchins in general ; and the
remembrance of this virtuous priest has led me to introduce
some of them into those romances which I have tried to
* Mandrin was originally a soldier, then he deserted, became a coiner
next a smuggler, and finally chief of a band of robbers. He had nothing
ferocious in his appearance, and his repartees were lively. He was appre
hended on the territories of the King of Sardinia, whither he had fled, and
was broken on the, wheel at Valentia, on the 24th May, 1754.— (Note by
the Editor.)
t Madame Duchastelet was of the family of the Letonnelliers of Bre-
teuil.— (Note by the Editor.)

MADAME DE GENLIS. 33
make the most interesting — in the Duchess of La Valliere,
and the Siege of Rochelle.
The presence of Father Antoine gave us a little courage.
At last, the Marquis of Breteuil was announced, and an ill-
looking man entered, followed by two officers of very dark
complexion. Persuaded that I beheld Mandrin, I gazed
upon him with an eagerness which nothing could divert,
and I was greatly astonished that a robber should not have
a more marked expression of face ; he "thought proper to
prolong his visit till supper was announced, when my mo
ther, with a trembling voice, invited him to sup with us ; he
accepted the invitation ; Father Antoine remained, and we
sat down to table ; suddenly a large cat belonging to my
iriother came and leaped on the colonel's shoulder, who im
mediately grew pale, and nearly fainted ; one of the officers
said, that the Marquis had an invincible antipathy to cats.
I turned to Mademoiselle de Mars, who sat by my side, and
said to her in a whisper ; " That can't be Mandrin, for he
would not have been afraid of a cat." I happened to be
right — it was not Mandrin, but a Marquis de Breteuil of
some regiment, I now forget which.
In the mean time, our fetes continued, and my father, who
had now been absent eighteen months, was not yet returned.
My mother, who wished to add a ballet to our concerts and
tragedies, sent for a dancer from Melun, called Mademoiselle
Mion, who taught me to dance the minuet and a scene of a
ballet, that I was to play alone in my costume of Love, which
I now wore always. Mademoiselle Mion, was red-haired,
and addicted to liquor; at the expiry of three months she
was dismissed, and' in her place came a dancer, fifty years
old, who was besides a fencing-master: he added to my
scene a saraband, and found me so alert, that he proposed
to teach me fencing — an idea with which I was delighted,
and I made such progress, that my mother thought of ma
king me play Darviane in Melanide de la Chaussee, a part
in which I had to draw my sword and defend myself. I now
quitted my costume of Love for an elegant male dress which
5

34 MEMOIRS OF
was made for me, and which I constantly wore up to the
time of leaving Burgundy. It was a strange thing, at the
time of which I speak, to bring up a little girl in habits so
unusual to her sex ; and I have been always surprised since,
to think that Father Antoirie, who was truly pious, should
have made no remarks on the subject, and that no one, as
far as I know, should have appeared shocked at such an in
novation. In other points, I gained the advantage of having
my feet better placed, and of walking better than women in
general, and above all being more agile than any I have
known. I led a charming life : in the morning I played a
little on the harpsichord and sung, afterward I studied my
parts, then I took my lesson of dancing and fencing. After
ward I read till dinner with Mademoiselle de Mars. One of
our neighbours had lent her the novel of the Queen of Na
varre, by Mademoiselle de la Force,* which we absolutely
devoured; we read it twice. I perused it twenty years
after with great pleasure, and have always had a particular
affection for this romance, to which the remembrance of
the pleasure it afforded me in my childhood has doubtless
contributed. On quitting table we read pious books, under
the direction of Father Antoine, such as the Gospels, the
Imitation of Jesus Christ, and the Daily Thoughts of a
Christian. From thence we passed into the drawing-room
when there was no company, (my mother was1 always at
that hour in her room,) and there we amused ourselves with
making garlands of artificial flowers for our fetes. It was a
woman from Bourbon who taught us to make them ; they
were rude imitations made with paper. The servants
worked at them along with us, and often worthy Father
* Charlotte Rose de Caumont de la Force, died in 1724, aged 74. Her
compositions, which are founded on historical facts, may have given to Sir
Walter Scott, and other writers of our age, the idea of their historical
novels ; she wrote verses well. Her principal works are, the Secret His
tory of Burgundy, in 2 volumes, of Margaret of Valois, in 4 volumes ; and
the .Authentic Memoirs of the Duchess of Bar, sister of Henry IV  (Note
,by the Editor.)

MADAME DE GENLIS. 35
Antoine has helped us to paint them. Afterward Mademoi
selle de Mars and I went to walk. After our fetes were
over, that is to say, since I had quitted women's clothes, I
was a great deal less easily governed than before ; I no
longer conversed; my only delight was in running on be
fore my governess, leaping little ditches, and performing a
hundred pranks ; and this lasted till I left Burgundy.
Here is the first origin of my dislike to Voltaire. The
neighbour who lent books to Mademoiselle de Mars lent her
a pamphlet recently arrived from Paris, against Voltaire.
We knew the greater part of his tragedies, had played
Zaire, and had read the others ; and on this account the
pamphlet interested us : in it we saw with horror that the
man we had so much admired was an infidel. The pam
phlet concluded with some poor verses, meant to be satiri
cal, in which Voltaire was mentioned under an anagram of
his name, and each stanza finished with a line which I have
always remembered, and in which Voltaire is thus iron
ically praised :
Ma foi, Tolvaire est un grand homme !
We did not much admire the verses : but the accusations
contained in the pamphlet made a deep impression upon us.
I have neither read nor seen it since. As there are many
religious sentiments in Zaire, I was doubly indignant against
the author : I lost a great deal of my admiration for Zaire,
and gave it all to my part of Iphigenia in Aulis, and conse
quently to Racine, who, I was assured, was equally virtuous
as a man and sublime as a poet. Yet, my success in Zaire
had been so brilliant that the ladies of Moulins, who wit
nessed our performances, declared seriously, that my talent
for tragedy was superior to that of Mademoiselle Clairon.
These extravagant praises made Mademoiselle de Mars
smile, especially as she used to ridicule a little my em
phatic tone in pronouncing the words "est-ce vous', Ne-
restan ?" and on the other hand I mimicked tolerably, be
tween ourselves, her eyes so haggard and full of fury, her

36 MEMOIRS OF
sharp tone and her lisp, when at the catastrophe she cries
to Orosmane, " Tigre, altere de sang !" These mimicries
of ourselves woujd make us laugfi till the tears came into
our eyes, and this accustomed me to despise small occa
sions of ridicule, and to attach importance only to things
worthy of estimation — in short to despise only what is vi
cious, and not merely trifles.
About this time there arrived at Saint Aubin a person
who excited my curiosity extremely. He was a very bad
writer, but the first man of letters I had ever seen. He had
been at college with my father, who loved without esteem
ing him : a law-suit obliged him to go to Dijon, from whence
he came to Saint Aubin. This was the Chevalier de La
Moliere,* author of several ill-written and licentious novels.
We were merely told that he was the author of several
printed works, which gave me a high idea of him ; but this
opinion did not last long. M. de La Morliere, who was a
good declaimer, made me recite the parts of Zaire, and
Iphigenia, and Mademoiselle de Mars that of Fatima in
Zaire, when suddenly he took it into his head to become
•enamoured of Mademoiselle de Mars, who finding his love
ridiculous, and his declaration of it impertinent, treated Trim
with great disdain; and from this time he conceived an
aversion for her, which rendered him odious in my eyes.
Luckily we got rid of him in a month, when he set out for
Paris. A few days after, the small-pox became epidemic at
Saint Aubin. Airsorts of precautions were taken to pre
serve me frona it, but my own imprudence rendered them
useless. A servant whom I was much attached to, called
Montigni, had symptoms of that horrible disease, which in

' The chevalier Jaques Louis Auguste de la Morliere of La Rochette
died at Paris in 1785. He is the writer of several detestable comedies and
licentious novels, of which the only one that met with even a temporary
success was that entitled Angola.; however this was said not to be his, but
to have been a plagiarism ; in fact at the time a periodical work, speaking
of M. de la MorliSre, calls him the Usurper of the Realm of Angola. 
(Notel/y the Editor.)

MADAME DE GENLIS. 37
fact afterward seized her : I went secretly to see her at a
house in the village whither she was removed ; the sight of
her terrified me ; two days afterward I fell ill, and took the
confluent small pox, which reduced me to the last extremity,
but I was so carefully treated by Doctor Pinot, that I had not
a single mark. Mademoiselle de Mars showed me during this
illness the most touching proofs of attachment, which vividly
increased my love for her. I was rapidly recovering in au
tumn, when we quitted Saint Aubin, the chateau having be
come uninhabitable : and we went to Burbon-Lancy, where
my mother hired a very pretty house and garden. The Coun
tess of Sercey, my aunt by the father's side, had arrived
there with her husband, who was afflicted with palsy ; and
of whom I have related in my Souvenirs a touching instance
of paternal affection.* We passed all the winter in per-
* The following is the manner in which the story is told by the author ;
— " The Countess of Sercey, my aunt, had carried to the baths of Burbon-
Lancy her husband, who was subject to apoplexy, and had lost the use of
half his .body in consequence of palsy. He had been two months at the
waters, and was still in the same condition, confined to bed, unable to speak,
giving no sign of consciousness, deprived of all power in his right arm,
when my aunt received a letter from M. de Chezac, a commamkr in the
navy, (we were then at war with England,) detailing a brilliant action in
which young Lucan de Sercey, who served in the navy, had displayed
great gallantry. He was the first to board the enemy's vessel, and though
several times wounded he performed prodigies of valour. The enemy's
ship was taken, and after the combat young De Sercey, who was covered
with blood, was asked about his wounds, in order that they might be at
tended to. 'I fancy,' said he, ' it is English blood, for 1 feel no pain.' It
was his own ; he had received three wounds, none of which, however, were
dangerous. His mother received along with the letter of M. de Chezac
one from her son's own hand.
" Madame de.Sereey, believing that hernusband still preserved a sort of
internal consciousness determined on reading him this account. There
were seven or eight persons in the room, of whom I was one. All the cur
tains were undrawn, and we gathered round the bed ; I sat down on a stool
at the foot, fixing my eyes on the sick man, who seemed to pay no attention
to all this ; but when my aunt, sitting by the bedside, pronounced the name
of his son, and mentioned that the boy whom he loved so much had cover
ed himself with glory, a vivid emotion was visible on his features ; he
looked earnestly at Madame de Sercey, who read aloud, though in a sub-

38 MEMOIRS OF^
forming tragedies and comedies in an elegant little theatre,
which my mother caused to be built. I played Zaire, Iphi
genia, Hector (in Reynard's Gamester;) Darviane m'Me-
lanide ; the peasant in George Dandin; another small part
in Attendez moi sous forme, and Cenie in the piece of that
name. The whole winter passed in these diversions. In
speaking of my studies I have not mentioned writing, and
for a good reason, viz. that I never received a single lesson.
It is somewhat singular that a person who has written so
much should never have learned to write ; but the fact is
so. In January 1757, at the age of eleven, I wished to
write to my father on the new year, and never having had
a pen in my hand, I wrote a long letter in a large and de
testable character ; but it was well spelt, for my reading,
as I have already stated, had fixed the words in my memory
as they were to be written. Frorii that time I taught my
self to write, and improved by slow degrees. I do not
write a fine hand, but my writing is rather neat and very
legible. At last my father arrived in the spring, and this
prolonged our fetes for two months more. About this time
a circumstance occurred which I cannot omit; Mademoi
selle in Mars and I had each a little cabinet within our
rooms, which were at the top of the house under a large
garret. One day after dinner I went into Mademoiselle de
Mars' cabinet to ask her to go and walk with me ; she was
writing, and said she could not go for half an hour. I in
sisted ; she refused positively ; I would not yield, and tor
mented her so long that she consented, though with a very
dued tone, the letter of M. de Chezac. When she had finished, two tears
stole down the sick man's cheeks : and, raising the arm which had been
immovable and lifeless for three months, he joined his hands together,
raised them to heaven, and cried distinctly "O my God!" Every one
burst into tears, and it was believed that a cure' would be operated ; but
this miracle of sensibility was only wrought to produce to a tender father
his last pleasure ; his latest gleam of intelligence was a passionate senti
ment of joy and gratitude to the Supreme Being ; he recovered all his
powers for a few minutes, but no, longer, and died a few months after."—
(Note by the Editor.)

MADAME DE GENUS. 39
bad grace, and I dragged her with me almost by force. We
had scarcely passed the threshold of the door, and the train
of her gown was still within the cabinet, (for at that time
trains were worn with the plainest gowns,) when the roof
of it fell in with a terrible crash, and a servant who was
drying lii^en in the garret above fell into the cabinet on a
beam, but received only a few contusions. Thus my im
portunity, or rather my presentiment saved both our lives.
Before quitting Burgundy, I shall 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 for 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 farthest; yet a
young man of eighteen became desperately in love with
me, the son of Doctor Pinot, one of the first physicians at
the baths of Bourbon-Lancy. He had performed parts in
our tragedies and comedies for two years : I have already
spoken of his vehemence in the former. None of us sus
pected his folly, and certainly I had not the slightest idea of
it ! when one morning after the rehearsal of the Distrait of
Regnard, the young man came up to me, and seizing the
moment when I was standing separate from the other ac
tors, in the side scene, and with an air of wildness in his
looks, gave me a note, begging me in a low tone, to read it,
and to let no one see it. I took the note, though much sur
prised, 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 the note to
Mademoiselle de Mars, as 1 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 Mademoi
selle de Mars left me. I ran into my cabinet, locked the
door, and read the note, which contained a serious declara
tion of love. My first movement was to be excessively
shocked that the son of a physician — a person of no rank —

40 MEMOIRS OF
should presume to talk of love to me ! I went immediately
and showed the note to Mademoiselle de Mars, who desired
me to carry it to my mother, which I did. The young man
was reprimanded by his father, as he Reserved to be, and he
felt so much chagrin on the occasion, that he enlisted in the
army, and left the place. Fifteen years afterward, his father
being in Paris came to pay a visit to me at the Palais Royal.
I inquired about his son, which made him smile: he then
told me he had believed his son dead, and had mourned him
three years when he came home again; that he had ob
tained his discharge ; that he was married and happy, and
an excellent young man.
I have forgotten to mention one of our neighbours, the
Baron de Busseuil, for whom I felt a great veneration. He
was an old bachelor of eighty, and a relation of my father,
who called him his uncle. He had a pretty chateau, where
he oQcasionally went to spend three or four days. M. de
Busseuil had performed at the age of forty-five, an action
of the most extraordinary and courageous description. He
was very tall, and of vast bodily strength. At the end of
one summer a hungry wolf had made prodigious ravages on
his grounds. He assembled his peasants, and armed them
with pistols, and it was decided that after mass they should
all go to hunt this wolf, which was agreed on ; but on enter
ing a hollow pass which led to the wood, the wolf suddenly
appeared so near them that it was impossible to avoid it, the
road being at that place very deep and narrow. M. de
Busseuil, at the head of his troop, ordered them to halt ;
then advancing to the wolf, who was rushing upon them
open-mouthed, he thrust his right hand into its throat, seized
the ferocious animal by the tongue, and held' it till it was
killed by his followers. He had his right thumb amputated,
and went to the sea-side, which saved him from canine
madness.* ;
* The opinion which was then in vogue with regard to the efficacy of sea
bathing against madness has since much declined. It is known that this
remedy is rather the most successful that has yet been tried for this terrible

MADAME DE GENLIS. 41
This action was mentioned in all the newspapers, and
appeared so wonderful that it procured M. de Busseuil the
'Cross of St. Louis, which was sent to him by the Regent ;
the only instance, Ibelieve, of a like honour for such an
enterprize. This venerable old man loved me much, and
often placed me on his knees ; I took great pleasure in re
spectfully kissing the wounded hand, and to hear him detail
all the particulars of his spirited feat.
Two months after the romantic flight of Dr. Pinot's son,
my mother went to Paris: the boxes were packed as if we
were never to return ; my mother took with her Mademoiselle
de Mars, myself, and all her women ; my father only re
mained behind. I confess to my shame, that I quitted Bur
gundy without regret — the beautiful country where I was
born, and where my childhood had glided by so gaily and
so smoothly ; and which I could not behold fifteen years after,
without shedding tears, and experiencing the mpst .lively
emotion ! But childhood has none of these sensations ; ft
loves changes, because it requires them ; in order to regret,
we must be able to compare, and time must form recollec
tions, and ripen them by judgment.
The jourriey was long, because my mother travelled with
her own horses, and performed part of the journey in a large
boat, which contained, along with ourselyes, our carriage
and horses. We lodged at Orleans with a friend of my
mother's, where I reassumed my female dress, never .again
to quit it. There it was that I read Tejlemachus for the
first time, and. so far from feeling.its beauties, I considered
it far inferior to Clelia : in spite of this sound opinion on
the subject, I was obliged to finish it out of complaisance
to Mademoiselle de Mars, for we passed nearly the whole
day in our room. My mother sent us thither almost imme
diately after dinner, excepting on two evenings, when I was
malady : ^nd to this conclusion comes all the boasted knowledge, of the
physicians.' — (Note by the Editor,) 6

42 MEMOIRS OF
made to sing, play on the harpsichord, and recite the mono
logue of Alzire, " Manes de mon amant, j'ai done trahi ma foi, &C."
before a numerous company.
We arrived at Paris about the end of the summer. I
enjoyed great pleasure, in again seeing my brother, whom I
had always loved with the utmost tenderness. My aunt,
Madame de Bellevau, came on our arrival, to pay us a visit
at our hotel. She was then twenty-eight, and if she had
even had tolerable teeth, she would have been a perfect
beauty. She had a majestic figure, elegant and refined
manners, a beautiful complexion, and regular features ;
joined to all which, her clever and piquant conversation,
and her other accomplishments, rendered her one of the
most charming women I have ever seen. She thought me
pretty : she was delighted with my singing and my declama
tion, and caressed me much. I conceived a strong attach
ment for her, yet at the same time I stood greatly in awe of
her : her graces and her elegance had a much greater effect
upon me than would have been produced by an air of
severity ; I dreaded lest she should discover in me something
provincial in my tone or manner ; and for the first time in
my life I was afraid of ridicule, and began to attach an
artificial importance to little things — the air of Paris had
already its' effect upon me. In a month we went to lodge
altogether at Madame de Belleyau's ; I was rejoiced at find
ing my two cousins there ; the eldest was nine, and the
youngest seven years of age. The elder was at that time
remarkable for her beauty, but her face, which was perfect,
had nothing childish in its expression : her features were
quite formed, and her head was that of a handsome woman
of twenty. For this reason it is, perhaps, that she did not
turn out even pretty. At fifteen, her nose, which had en
larged prodigiously, spoiled her face, her chin lengthened
excessively, and nothing remained of her early beauty, but

MADAME DE GENLIS. 43
her fine fair hair, and a tolerable shape. The youngest,
without being pretty, had an agreeable face. We dined at
table, and supped in our own rooms. I continued my studies
under Mademoiselle de Mars, but still with little pains, as
far as regarded the harpsichord. I had a master for the
guitar ; I was charmed with this instrument^ and made rapid
progress in learning it. ,
At the house of my aunt I saw that wiriter a celebrated
author, M. Marmontel.* He came to read to her his Tales ;
I was present at the reading of that called, I think, The self-
styled Philosopher, in which a fat president's wife, begrimed
with snuff, leads about in triumph this pretended sage, with •
a rose-coloured ribbon. . Though but twelve years old, I
thought this story both 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.t
Neither friendships nor dislikes have ever had the least in
fluence on my judgmerit or opinions. I thought my aunt
clever and agreeable, and yet almost all her notions seemed
to me erroneous ; and they were so in reality ; but she urged
them with grace and without pedantry: she had genuine
feelings, and the errors , she adopted proceeded rather from
her ignorance and her injudicious reading, than from any
want of talents : so that they seemed in her to be only the
effects of levity and want of reflection. She has published
a little novel, called "Letters of a young Widow," which is
written with much grace and natural feeling.
At Madame de Bellevau's I saw also M. de Mondorge,|
a financier and a man of letters, who was then at least forty-
six or forty-seven, and who, ten or twelve years after, married
* His collected works form more than thirty volumes, 8vo. — (Note by the
Editor.),. t In the Tale called " Les Deux Reputations."— (Nile by the Author.)
% Antoine Gantier de Mondorge, was born at Ly°ns? m 1727, and died al
Paris in 1768 : he has composed a great deal of light poetry, some dramatic
pieces, and letters on the fine arts. — (Note by the Editor)

44 MEMOIRS OF
the eldest of my cousins. M. de Mondorge was full of talent,
acc<MnplishBients and suavity of manner. He was the writer
of several songs and operas. The poetry in the opera,
called Les Tttiens jLyriques, is by bim. I. was taught all
hiB songs, of which I have never forgot the following, which
has not appeared in print ;
D' H<5be" vous avez la jeunesse
Etlesappas,
Dans les yeux certaiae finesse
Qu'elle n'a pas.
Si la belle eut joint votre grace v
A sa beaute,
Jamais Ganymede a sa place
Ne iut monte.t
Comme elle remplissez mon verre ;
Et jaime mieux
Avec vous boire sur la terre
Que d'etre aux cieux.
Versez, versez toujours de meme ;
Recommeneez.
Ah 1 s'il faut Wi*e autant que j'aime,
Versez, versez.
M. de Mondorge was extremely pleasant in conversation,
his talk was full of piquant sallies and anecdotes : he had
an excellent taste, and is the first man who gave me the
idea of truly agreeable conversation. I was never tired
of hearing him talk. I used to write continually in my
huge and villanoUs hand, long letters to the niece of a Cure
of Bourbon-Lancy. My mother one day showed one of
sixteen pages to M. de Mondorge, who praised it in extra
vagant terms. He exhorted me earnestly to continue to
read and write, and gave out the niost flattering predictions
concerning me. This was my first encouragement in this
way. The verses of M. de Mondorge gave me a great in
clination to compose some ; I had a strong feeling of har
mony, and my frequent performances in tragedy and in
t Hebe, it will be remembered, is said to 'have incurred the anger of the
gods, by falling as she handed round the nectar.— (Note by the Author.)

MADAME DE GENLIS. 45
comedy, had imbued me with a profound taste for poetry.
My mother had a waiting-maid called Victoire ,• one of my
own names was Felicite, and these two joined to that of
Mademoiselle de Mars, furnished me with the first hint of
my earliest poetical composition, which I here subjoin :
Felicity, Mars, et Victoire
Se trouvent rassembl& chez nous.
Est-il rien de plus grand, est-il rien de plus doux
Que de fixer chez soi le bonheur et la gloire ?
M. de Mondorge thought the verses wonderful for my
age; (I was just then turned of twelve) he copied them,
showed them to all his acquaintance, and a few days after
ward, he presented me with a copy of the sacred poetry,
and the odes of J. B. Rosseau, splendidly b6und in red mo
rocco. 'In six months I knew all these magnificent verses ;
and I had constantly one of the little volumes in my pocket.
My friends loved to hear me recite this fine poetry ; the
poems which I repeated best, were
J'ai vu mes triestes journees;, &c.
(he ode to Prince Eugene, and the ode to, Fortune. It was
impossible for me to follow the advice of M. de Mondorge,
and to read constantly, for I had no books ; my aunt read
little more than pamphlets, 'of which most were interdict
ed to me. Besides, I should have required some direction
in my reading, and I had no guide. I devoted four hours
daily to the harpsichord, singing, and the guitar; I spent an
hour in learning verses ; ' I passed every day at least three
hours with my aunt; and I went every evening either to the
Opera or the Theatre Francais, at both erf which my aunt
had a box. . I witnessed the first appearance of Mademoi
selle Arnoult*at the Opera;, and I can yet remember the
dress she wore- — it was lilac and silver over a large hoop.
At the Comedie Francaise, 1 saw the first representation of
* This actress, as celebrated for her bon mots as her talents, was born in
1744, and was not quite fourteen when She made her first appearance at

4ti . MEMOIRS OF
the Hypermnestra of Lemierre;* I loved theatrical repre
sentations prodigiously, and tragedy in particrilar. In this
manner my days were completely filled up, and if not with
perfect propriety, at least in such a way as left no time for
any serious study. , /
This very winter Providence preserved my life in a re
markable manner. My mother wishing to give me her por
trait in miniaturer caused it to be set in a bracelet encircled
with opals and emeralds. This bracelet (which was stolen
from me seven or eight years after) was so precious to me,
that I have given a similar one (in description) to one of my
heroines in the Knights pf the Swap,.' My mother be
thought herself of a charming manner of presenting this
bracelet, by fixing it on my arm during my sleep. I slept
alone in my room, and Mademoiselle de Mars in a cabinet
beside it ; we were both in a profound slumber when my
mother softly entered the room with the bracelet and a
dark lantern. What were her terror and surprise, to find
the chamber full of a thick smoke, and the curtains and the
bed in flames !  I was in a deep sleep, the fire was
just about to envelope me, and ten minutes longer my mo
ther would have been to late! I was dragged out of bed,
and carried into another room ; there I was questioned and
scolded, an alarm was made, and all the family assembled :
the Opera in 1757 : she performed there till 1778, when she retired. She
died in 1803. It was Mademoiselle Arnoult, who said, on seeing a little
rivulet in a garden in the English style, which was dignified with the name
of a river, Celaresfemble a une riviere comme deux gouttesd'eau. It was she
also who made the pleasant variation on Lemierre's absurd verse,
tBouche, ceil, sein, port, teint, taille, en elle tout ravit.
This is the variation of Mademoisselle Arnoult,
En toi tout est touchant, tout attendrit, tout touche,
. Sein, bras, front, teint, port, taille, &c.
* Lemierre was born at Paris, and died at St. Germain en Laye, in July
1793, aged 72. Hypermnestra and the Widow of Malabar, are the only
two tragedies of this poet that keep possession of the stage.— (JVoie by the
Editor.)

MADAME DE GENLIS. 47
I shall never forget that terrible tumult ! I confessed, that
being, desirous of reading in bed, the words of the Gascon
Opera, called Alcimadure, in order to understand them bet
ter in hearing them sung, I had fallen asleep while reading,
leaving my candle burning. As a punishment 1 did not re
ceive my bracelet for eight days after this accident*:
About this time, appeared M. Helvetius's ill-written and
pernicious book, De l'Esprit.* I heard a great deal of ra
tional discussion upon this work ; and every one seemed
disgusted with the aim and the principles of the author. M.
Helvetius was styled a philosopher : and all I could gather
on the subject, (and I listened with great curiosity) implant
ed in my young imagination a profound contempt for mo
dern philosophy. M. de Mondorge related to us daily
some new trait concerning the _ book and its author.
Among others, his recantation, which was thought disgrace
ful, because nobody believed it was sincere. M. de Mon
dorge spoke extremely well on the infamous principles of
this work.t.
At the close of the winter we went to Saint Mande, to a
country house of my aunt's. This house was delightful,
with a charming garden, which had a door communicating
with the forest of Vincennes. There were four children
here, of whom I was the eldest: my brother, my two cou
sins and myself. My aunt lodged on the ground floor ; the
drawing room, which was very elegant and spacious, was
on the first floor ; my harpsichord was placed Iiere, and the
room was used only for my studies and our play, except
when there came much company — a thing which rarely
happened more than once in eight or ten days. When
there were not more than three or four persons of my
aunt's intimate acquaintance, she used to remain in her
own room with my mother.
* M. Helvetius was born in 1715, and died in 1771. — (Note by the
Editor.)' t " This infamous book," says Colle, " the detestation of all fathers of
families, and every honest man, owed its ephemeral reputation only to its

- 48 MEMOIRS OF '
This summer passed away delightfully forme; after my
three or four hours of musical study, I was at liberty to dis
pose of my time, which I passed in walks, or in new games
which were invented by myself. We had pantomimes made
up of parts of the tragedies which I knew, and the romances
I had read, with some little additions of my own. The actors
were my brother, my cousins, Mademoiselle de Mars and
I, and the waiting maids were the audience. By degrees
we had pieces (still of the heroic description) where we
had to inv ent our own speeches ; bat I had always a part
which nearly filled up the piece, for I had great difficulty in
inspiring my actors. Nevertheless this kind of amusement
acquired so much celebrity in the house, that we soon had
for spectators my mother, my aunt, and their visiters. They
engaged us to have two fixed representations a week, which
lasted all the summer. Jeliote came from time to time and
sung at the end of the pieces ; and often he sung duets with
me. On these days I played on the harpsichord and the
guitar, and our little fetes met with great applause.
My brother was by ho means so remarkable a child as I
was : he had a pretty face, but he was shy, awkward, and of
an inconceivable siiriplicity. He had in vain requested my
father to permit him to use a gun ; he was always told that
it should only be, when he should have acquired some know
ledge of fencing, for which he had not the slightest taste.
He then adopted the following expedient : he loaded a gun,
shut himself up in his room, and in order to fire without
making any inoise/he bethought him of thrusting the barrel
of the gun under the mattress of the bed ; he then fired in
in this prudent manner, set fire to the bed, and was him
self knocked down by the rebound. The family arrived,
and discovered, with much surprize his singular invention.
In our. garden was a little door which led into the forest of
Vincennes ; an old servant called Veronica had a key to it,
impudence. It is as dull as wicked." — (Memoirs of Colli, vol. ii. p. 256.)
I quote this judgment as impartial, for Colle' was certainly neither a saint
nor a rigid moralist. — (Note by the Author.)

MADAME DE GENLIS. 49
which she often lent us for half an hour ; on such occasions
we used to get into the wood, and to give us dignity in the
eyes of the passengers, the elder of riiy cousins and I used
to make my brother hold up alternately our trains ; (for the
gowns and even frocks of these days had trains ;) and this
must have appeared the more singrilar, as my brother, being
intended for an ecclesiastic, wore constantly the dress of an
abbe. Nevertheless he held up our trains witii a great deal
of gravity, and we walked about in this fashion during our
half hour. With all this simplicity the boy had a great deal
of understanding and talent. Six months after,' the Journal
Emcyclopedique proposed publicly a problem, to which he re
turned an answer, signed A Scholar of M. BertauOs of eleven
years old. It was not known at his school that the solution
was his, and it was matter of great surprise when they came
to find out the author ; from that time his masters paid much
attention to him, and his progress was beyond their most san
guine expectation.
We returned to Paris at the close of the autumn, and
the following winter passed away like the preceding. On
New Year's day M. de Mondorge made me a present of
Gresset's Poems* and La Fontaine's Fables. I learnt by
heart at his desire the charming Epistle to my Sister, on my
Recovery, and the Chartreuse ; and from La Fontaine, the
Fables of the Oak and the Reed, the Mule, the Town
Rat, the Wolf- and the Lamb, Love and Folly, the Pigeon
and the Ant, Baucis and Philemon, the two Pigeons and
the Hare ; none of which I have ever forgotten, and which,
joined to what I knew already, filled my memory with ex
cellent verses. I have forgotten to mention that during
the three months we passed at Saint Mande, I was present
regularly at my brother's Latin lessons, which he received
from an excellent and very learned tutor, who, charmed
* Jean Baptiste Louis Gresset, who was born in 1709, at Amiens, and
died in the same town in 1777, is too well known, and his works have had
too much celebrity tomake it necessary to mention them. J. B. Rousseau
called Vert Vert the literary phenomenon.—^0'6 *y "*e Editor-)
7

50 ' MEMOIRS OF
with my memory, contrived to excite my self-love so much,
as to inspire me with all the emulation of a scholar. He paid
special attention to me, and I made so much progress, that
I became attached to the study. I wished to continue it at
Paris, but my mother would not permit it ; I gained how
ever in this way some notions upon grammar, which have
been since useful to rae.
Towards the end of the winter I experienced many afflic
tions, to which I was so much. the more sensible, as I had
hitherto been perfectly happy ; but I only felt vividly the
afflictions of the heart, not the reverses of forturiei I had
fancied myself so often, in my day-dreams, placed in disas
trous situations, that I had acquired a sort of energy and
determination which elevated me above the accidents of
fortune. My mind was not yet formed, and I was still a
child in reference to my tastes and my extreme naiveti, but
my mind had a force which is rarely found in a child of
thirteen. I was informed of the complete ruin of my father,
and the sale of Saint Aubin; after all our debts were paid,
their would only remain an annuity of 1200 francs a year,
payable during the life-time of my father and mother ; and
not a refuge for us on the earth ! ... At the same time my
mother and my aunt, quarrelled ; my mother told me that
we must quit her house in a month, and that I was to lose
Mademoiselle de Mars, whom her circumstances did not al
low her to retain ! . . . I loved my aunt and Mademoiselle de
Mars ; my grief, which was extreme displeased my mother,
and I was forced to conceal it ... I had the couraige to do
so, but I cried every night in bed, sometimes two or three
hours. Mademoiselle de Mars was no less afflicted — not
but that it would be easy for her, with her talents and good
sense, to find a situation at Paris more lucrative than that
she was about to quit — besides which, she had an aunt at
Paris in easy circumstances, who was to take her into her
house till she found another situation; but she loved me
sincerely, and we had flattered ourselves so often that we
should never part ! . . . I shall never forget the evening be-

MADAME DE GEWLIS. 51
fore that cruel separation. She allowed me to sit up with
her till one in the morning ; she gave me excellent advice
on the conduct of my life ; made me promise to have more
application, to employ my time better and to moderate my
vivacity, which, though it did not, give me a tendency to be
passionate, made me too enthusiastic about any thing that
pleased me. Lastly, she exhorted me to preserve my
sense of religion. We exchanged our prayer-books with
each other ; 1 preserved her's more than twerity years ; her
name was written in it ; I afterward lost it in travelling.
I gave her a little ring of my hair, which for that purpose, I
had requested, my cousin to return to me. We promised
to pray for each other night and morning; we shed torrents
of tears, and I wept in bed almost the whole night. On
awaking I was shocked to hear that she had left the house
at seven iri the morning; she had left me the hope of see
ing her again, arid that she would breakfast with me ; I cried
so bitterly that my face was swollen ; I was reprimanded,
and I made an effort to command myself; but all the day I
felt as if I was choked with grief.
A fortnight after, we quitted my aunt's house, who show
ed me many proofs of her tenderness and regret at loosing
me. She pressed me in her arms, and while hex tears min
gled with mine, she said, " Poor'child, you will never be
happy— you have too much sensibility." She judged truly.
She gave me a pretty little porcelain basket, filled with cho
colate pastilles wrapped up in a paper, among which I found
a very handsome ruby ring, set with diamonds. I felt little
regret for my cousins ; the yourigest was too much of a child,
and the eldest had too little sensibility, and had always dis
covered a great deal of jealousy of the marked preference
of her aunt for me ; she has^ since become a most estimable
woman. We went to lodge in the Rue Traversiere, in a
small lodging on the ground floor, looking out upon a damp
garden; our apartments seemed to me very melancholy,
and wretched in comparison, with the elegant mansion we
had just quitted. Alas ! how solitary I felt myself, deprived

52 MEMOIRS OF
of the dear friend with whom I had passed seven years and
a half — that is to say, more than the half of my life !
A fortnight after, we went to Passy to the house of M.
de la Popeliniere, the farmer-general, where" we spent all
the summer. M. de la Popeliniere was an old gentleman
of sixty-six, in robust health, with a face expressive of good
nature and talent : he did not appear to be more than fifty.
Whatever oddities may have been attributed to this man,
so celebrated for his splendour and his beneficence, it would
be impossible to accuse him of any thing unjust or vicious.
He had a great deal of wit, his character was remarkable
for facility and mildness, and he had a generous heart ; he
wrote verses with grace, and composed1 songs, comedies,
and romances. He was the discriminating protector of poor
authors and artists. He gave dowries yearly to six poor
girls, whom he gave away in marriage ; and he did infinite
good at Passy, by finding work for the industrious, and dis
tributing abundant charities among the indigent families of
the place. His morals were most pure, and his conduct
becoming and regular ; he kept up a great establishment
/ without contracting any debts ; he received much company,
and saw the best society of his day; he did the honours of
his house with as much grace as generosity ; he never
played, and allowed no play at his house, except round
games ; in short; at once sober and generous, he was a lover
of literature, of the arts, and of talent ; he possessed all the
domestic virtues ; he was a good master, a good parent, a
faithful and tender friend. Such was the man in whom the
mocking wits of the day found an inexhaustible subject of
ridicule. It must be allowed, that there was too much
pomp, show, and singularity in some of his actibns: — and this
is what is rarely pardoned in a person of his rank : for of all
faults, ostentation in doing good, is that for which the world
has the least indulgence. We do not love those great ex
amples who throw a sort of blame, upon those who do not
imitate them, though they have it in their power. The
world does not like it to pass into a maxim, that it is better

MADAME DE GENLIS. 53
to employ a great fortune in doing good, even through va
nity, than to throw it away in a brilliant but frivolous luxury.
People always cry out that good deeds should be done in
secret, as if some actions, and those perhaps the best and
the most useful, could be done in secret ! It is ever thus
that a mean and foolish vanity has tried to ridicule a noble
self-love, and has often even calumniated the purest inten
tions of the sincerest Christian charity. For my own part
I confess, that throughout my life I have always yielded to
the pleasure I felt in contemplating goodness wherever I
have found it. To seek for bad motives to good actions, is
in some degree to participate in the baseness of those un
grateful persons who never fail to find reasons of this kind
to dispense them from the obligation they owe to their bene
factors. The very day of my arrival at Passy, I gave a new proof
of the talent which I have received from, nature — of reading
in the features the vices of the heart. After haying paid
and received the first compliments, I turned round, and saw
behind me a man about fifty, very thick and short, and
dressed like an abbe, whose expression of face was so revol
ting to me, that it made me shudder ; my mother asked
what was the matter with me, and I replied in a low tone,
" Look at that abbe, I am sure he will be hanged." My
mother reprimanded me, but I still kept my opinion. This
man was the famous Abbe de la Coste, who, five months
afterward went to Toulouse to propose, on the part of M.
de la Popeliniere, for Mademoiselle de Mondran, the daugh
ter of a capitoul, (a kind of sheriff) whom M. de la Pope
liniere wished to marry on the reputation of her talents, and
whom, in fact, he did marry, This remaining singularity
ended ill ; for this marriage rendered M. de la Popeliniere
so unhappy, that grief carried him to his grave in eighteen
months after. It was his fate to be unlucky in wives. All
the world has heard of the notorious adventures of his first
wife with the Marechal de Richelieu. I have introduced
the principal facts into the history of M. and Madame du

54 •' MEMOIRS OF
Resnel in my novel of the Rival Mothers. To return to the
Abbe de la Coste ; a short time after the marriage of M. de
la Popeliniere with Mademoiselle de Mondran, he was con
victed of the double crime of having spread the most defama
tory accusations against M. de la Popeliniere; and several
other persons, and to have thrown the suspicions of those
libels, with great appearance of probability, upon a friend
of M. de la Popeliniere, whorri he wished to ruin. In order
to give colour to the accusation, this villain put a great deal
of abuse of himself into his libels. ' All these atrocities, and
many others were afterward discovered, along with a great
number of forgeries and other crimes. , This unworthy
abbe (who was not a priest) was tried and condemned to the
pillery and the galleys.- The day he was conducted to the
greve to undergo his jpunishment, a stranger, seeing a great
crowd on the streets, asked what was going forward, some
one replied, " Oh ! ' tis the ambassador of M. de la Pope
liniere, who is going to be presented." •
Two days after our arrival at- Passy, I was present at the
celebration of the marriage of six poor girls, endowed by
M. de la Popeliniere. They were all uniformly dressed as
peasants, but with some elegance. M. de la Popeliniere
gave them these dresses, a packet of clothes, and other ne
cessaries, and five hundred francs to each couple ; he was
also at the whole expense of the nuptials ; he devoted, yearly,
Six thousand francs to that act of charity ; there was a bai
champitre in the chateau at Passy, and a grand entertain
ment for the new married couples. I danced a great deal ; I
was much amused ; and I was delighted with M. de la Pope
liniere, who- gave entertainments of such a splendid kind.
I looked upon him with admiration. From time to time he
read to us, when the company was not too numerous, por
tions of an oriental romance, which he was- then writing,
called Daira, and which appeared to me charming. There
lived in his house a woman of talent whose name happened
to be that of the estate we had lost (Saint Aubin.) My mo
ther had exchanged this name for that of Ducrest ; but

MADAME DE GENLIS. 55
from habit she was still often styled the marchioness of Saint
Aubin. The person so called, attached to the establishment
of M. de la Popeliniere, had not a single talent of a high order,
but she had many agreeable ones ; she was a good musician ;
sung Italian tolerably well ; and played on the flageolet ;
she was, moreover, polite, modest, good-tempered, and
amiable. This house was also the permanent residence of
Madame Belot,* author of the esteemed translation of
Hume's History of England ; she was a woman of great merit.
At Passy, I heard the harp for the first time in my life. M.
de la Popeliniere had an excellent orchestra of his own.
Gossec,an admirable composer, who is still living, belonged
to it. But what delighted me most in it was an old player,
a German, named Gaiffre, whom they styled King David,
and to whom we owe the invention' of -pedals. Before his
time, the harp, having no pedals, was an instrument of such
limited compass, that it was only known in Germany in the
streets or taverns- Gaiffre's invention ennobled it, and
made it the finest of instruments. He only played upon it
some very middling preludes, though he was a good musician :
but he did not finger well, and had no idea of what might be
done with that admirable instrument. He had in all four or
five scholars, among whom were M. de Monville and Ma
dame Saint Aubin, none of whom could do more than strike
a few chords to accompany themselves in singing ; and these
were the only persons in France who could play upon the
harp. Besides, the worthy M. Gaiffre seated his scholars
awkwardly at the instrument, and made them sit too low, as
some teachers of the harp still do ; but he placed the hands
in a good position, which is a great point. I conceived
* Madame Bclol, who died at Chaillot, at a very advanced age, in 1805,
was principally engaged upon English literature. She has translated into
French the Dispensary, Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia, the History of the
House of Tudor, of the Stuarts, and the Plantagenets. Her first work
was " Reflections of a Provincial on the Discoveries of J. J. Rousseau,
touching the inequality of conditions.'' This work, published in 1756,
gave an advantageous idea of Madame Bfiot's talents. (Note by the Editor.)

56 MEMOIRS OF
such a love of the harp, that I earnestly entreated my mo-
ther.to allow me to take lessons of Gaiffre, to which she
consented. 1 commenced immediately ; but, having only
Gaiffre's harp, I could not practise alone, and was obliged
to content myself with playing twice a-week with my teacher.
Gaiffre, who was the best creature in the world, charmed
with my zeal and my taste for the harp, paid particular at,
tention tome : he gave me enormous lessons — some of three
hours long. If I had had a harp of my own at Passy, nothing
would have been wanting to my happiness. We acted plays
and performed some theatrical pieces by M. de la Pope
liniere;* I had several parts assigned to me : I played that
of a simple ingenuous girl in a piece called L1 Indolente, and
that of a waiting-maid in another called Les Joueurs, nei
ther of which have ever been printed. I danced on some
of these occasions a.pas seul, which was greatly applauded.
A maitre de ballet, belonging to the Italian opera, called
Deshaies, taught me this dance, which I was continually
asked to perform, not only on the stage but in the drawing-
room. J had a great talent for dancing ; but I have not cul
tivated it, not being ambitious for applause of this kind. I
have never been fond of dancing except in the country ; and
though I have gone to balls at court and elsewhere, it was
rather for the sake of showing that I was invited, and to have
the pleasure of wearing a prettier dress than I wore at
other times. It has always seemed to me incomprehensi
ble, how any one can attach any value to a talent, with
with which it is impossible to amuse one's self when alone,
and in which you cannot acquire a decided superiority,
unless you follow; it as a profession ; for the most middling
* M. de la Popeliniere was born in 1692, and died in 1762. He was
equally celebrated for his riches, his pretentions to talent, and his connubial
misfortunes. In 1748, he discovered in the chimney of his wife's boudoir, a
sliding pannel, which communicated with the adjoining house, in which the
Duke de Richelieu lodged. La Popelipiere made his wife's infidelity
public, and obtained a divorce. He was the author of several works, of
which one only (Daira) has been published.— (JVbfe by the Editor.)

MADAME DE GENLIS. 57
dancer at the opera dances always infinitely better than the
lady the most accomplished in this way.
M. de la Popeliniere was enchanted with the little talents
I possessed, and said often, with a profound sigh, in looking
at me, " What a pity that she is but thirteen !" (1 759.) I
afterward understood the meaning of this expression, so
often repeated, and I myself regretted, that I was not three
or four years older ; for I had conceived such an admira
tion of him that I should have been delighted to become
his wife. He is the only old man who has ever inspired me
with a similar inclination. He gave me his portrait admi
rably engraved : he was represented sitting at a desk, hold
ing in his hand some faded roses, and beneath were these
lines by his friend M. de Broussonel :
Ce sage, des arts le Mecene,
Par ses propres talens plein de cel^brite,
Est au sein deTlutus l'homme de Diogene,
Et le plus tendre ami qu'ait eu l'humanite.
M. de la Popeliniere, who thought, very justly,that these
fines were not appropriate to the subject, wrote the follow
ing: Pour ces fleurs il n'est qu'un printemps ;
Du moins la vie a son automne.
Prenons ce que le sort nous donne, .
Et connoissons le prix du temps.
These lines appeared to me so charming, and sunk so
deeply into my memory, that more than half a century has
not sufficed to erase them; As I was extremely desirous
of the good opinion of M. de la Popeliniere, I wished much
that my mother should show him the lines I had composed
on my own name and those of Mademoiselle de Mars and
Victoire. M. de Mondorge had appeared so much struck
with them, that I flattered myself M. de la. Popeliniere would
be equally pleased, but my mother never mentioned them,
and I never durst confide to her my secret vanity of author-

58 MEMOIRS OF
ship ; for I stood so much in awe of her, that I never could
venture to speak to her frankly and openly; There is a
good deal of extravagance in my character, but none in my
opinions ; and therefore I have reasoned soundly, and pos
sess a good taste, though I have committed many ridiculous
errors, and taken many unadvised steps. Either my confi
dence is unbounded, or I have none at all. My friendship
is devotion, my esteem admiration : I have always seen
clearly the faults of my friends, but I only consider them
faults, because theymust appear so toothers ; in my eyes they
were only failings which I elevated into virtues ; and these
virtues, thus created by my own imagination, were to me
the more attractive, because I knew they existed only for me,
and that I alone could discover and appreciate them.
Where I was not attached, 1 saw the good and the bad
without exaggeration ; and I have never judged falsely,
either through aversion or resentment. I respected my mo
ther, and I have never once failed in profound obedience to
her. I thought myself bound to acknowledge, by my at
tentions, respect, and perfect obedience throughout her life,
the feelings which I could not prove by familiarity and
unreserve. There existed in our minds, opinions, tempers,
and dispositions, the most singular contrast. , She was se
rious, severe, and imposing in her manner ; her face had
_ the loftiest ^expression I have ever beheld ; she had large
'black eyes, somewhat oyershaded by?the eyelids, but of
remarkable beauty : I never could withstand their penetra
ting glance. She had many admirable qualities ; she was
charitable and generous without pretending to be a saint ;
she had a strong sense of religion, and she possessed great
talents, which would have been brilliantly developed if she
had possessed more information. When she wished to
please, no one could please more.
I rose very early at Passy, and used to take wafics in the
garden with Mademoiselle Victoire before my mother got
Up ; Victoire sat at work upon a bench, while I walked
about under, her eye. There I amused myself with build-

MADAME DE GENLIS. 59
ing castles in the air, and often held dialogues with myself,
talking aloud ; a habit which I have preserved during life,
and which has procured me some of my most agreeable-
amusements and my greatest consolations. In these early
dialogues, I fancied myself always with Mademoiselle de
Mars, whom I figured coming in secret to see me. I con-
fide'd to her all my adventures, and all my thoughts : I made
her reply perfectly in character : she gave me excellent
counsels for the present and the future ; and she related to
me many things which I invented with marvellous facility.
I was so rapt in these imaginary conversations, that I ques
tion whether the reality would have been more charming
to me. I was grieved when Victoire recalled me from my
dreams, and I always promised my friend to meet her again
the day following at the same hour.
Our comedies, dances, and concerts obliged me, to my
great regret, to interrupt my harp-studies ; and I regretted
this the more, as I could not play in the mornings before my
mother awoke, lest I should disturb her- — for I slept in a
little cabinet close to her room. Nevertheless, being fond
of entertainments, music, and fetes, I amused myself ex
ceedingly at Passy. Every Sunday a mass in music was
celebrated in the chapel belonging to the house ; Madame
de Saint Aubin played on a small organ, and Gossec and
the other musicians performed some fine symphonies. On
the. same day there was always a grand dinner, at which were
present a great deal of company from Paris, among whom
were always some ambassadors and their ladies : their con
versation amused me much. M.- de la Popeliniere made
them always talk of their own country, and I listened with
infinite curiosity ; after dinner the conversation was resum
ed, and no game was played but chess. At five o'clock we
had a concert in a great gallery, to which great numbers
came from Paris, who had not teen invited to the previous
dinner. We supped at nine. After supper we had gene
rally a little private concert ; M. de Monville, who was al
ways with us on Sunday, played on the harp on these occa
sions, and I sang and played on the guitar. At half past

60 i MEMOIRS OF
eleven, we retired to bed. On other days I went to bed at
ten, even on. our days of performance, excepting on Tues
days, which were the days devoted to the wits and men of
science. On these days we had always the Abbe d'Olivet*
of the French 'Academy ; Madame Riccoboni, author of the
Letters of Miladi Catesby ; (which were already published ;)
the celebrated Vancanson ;t the Chevalier de Laures, who
composed verses ; and M. Bertin,| another poet. On
these occasions many artists also came, of whom I only re
member Latour the painter ; he was a singular character.
He used to puzzle us, by inquiring how he came from Paris,
telling us that it was neither in a boat nor by: coach,
nefther on foot nor horseback, neither on ass nor mule,
neither by- land nor - by swimming. Nobody could solve
this riddle. He explained it thus : on setting out he plun
ged into the river, and being unable to swim, he laid hold
on a boat with both hands ; and was thus towed on to Passy.
After Supper we had some reading, and I was made to re
cite verses, of which Iknew a prodgious nujnber by heart.
Such was the course of my life, which was rendered still
more agreeable to me by finding a friend in the house — a
young lady, gentle, pretty and iriteresting, whom M. de la
Popeliniere had in some shape adopted as his daughter. He
had married her to M. de Zimmermarin, an officer in the
Swiss guards ; he was young and agreeable, and a good per
former on the violin. The history of Madame de Zimmer-
mann was remarkable. She was the daughter of a poor
gentleman, and had been educated in the heart of the coun
try, a hundred and fifty leagues from Paris ; and for some
family matter, which depended on the farmers-general, she
* Joseph Thoulier d'Olivet, born in 1682, and buried in 1758, was one
of the best of our grammarians, and among the most prolific of French wri
ters.: Voltaire styled him his master.— (Note by the Editor.)
t Vancanson, the greatest mechanician of his time, who made an automa
ton flute,player, and a duck which could eat and digest. (Note by the Editor.)
$ Bertin was born in 1752, and died in 1790. His Elegies, called Les
Amours, and his other amatory poems, have gained him the title of the
French Tibullus. — (Note by the Editor.)

MADAME DE GENLIS.

61

had written to M. de la Popeliniere, whom she knew only
by report. M. de la Popeliniere, knowing that the letter
came from a young woman of eighteen, read the letter with
much interest though it was written with great simplicity ;
he admired the beauty of the handwriting and the correct
ness of the orthography, and granted the favour which had
been asked. He then received a very pretty letter of thanks ;
he replied, and a correspondence ensued which lasted six
months. M. de la Popeliniere conceived a. strong interest
for a young girl who discovered so much talent, elegance
and sensibility : he wrote into the .country to make inqui
ries respecting her ; and in reply, his correspondent cha
racterized her as very pretty, and a perfect angel in disposi
tion and behaviour. He now became quite enamoured of
her ; he declared his sentiments, and received a reply which
achieved the conquest; he offered his hand, which was
accepted, and the young person came to Paris. The
first interview cooled his ardour somewhat, but he did riot
change his design : he did not however find his intended bride
so pretty as he expected, because she was ill-dressed, had
an awkward air, and was much freckled. In a few days M.
de la Popeliniere was so much disappointed in her talents,
that he began to suspect her not to have been the writer of the
letters he had so much admired. He accordingly questioned
the young person on the subject, who frankly confessed that
she could not even spell, and that she had only copied let
ters which were written by the Cure of the place. M. de
la Popeliniere gave her a handsome marriage present, dia
monds worth thirty thousand francs ; and a dowry of a hun
dred thousand francs ; and she and her husband lived in the
house of M. de la Popeliniere. Madame de Zimmermann,
when I became acquainted with her, had been married five
years ; she was no longer freckled ; a dancing master had re
moved all her awkwardness of manner, she had learnt or
thography, was agreeable, pretty, chaste and modest ; and it
seemed to me that M. de la Popeliniere must have regretted
her.

62 MEMOIRS OF
We returned to Paris in the beginning of October, I part
ed from M- de la Popeliniere with regret, for I had con
ceived for him a sincere attachment* We went to lodge in
the Rue Neuve St. Paul. We had very agreeable neigh
bours, the family of M. LeFevre, a very rich Creole, who
lived on the Quai des Celestins, and who had four daugh
ters, of whom the youngest was of my own age. They were
amiable, good tempered, pretty, and full of talents ; we had
some music every day ; I passed almost the whole of the
day with them, part of which time I passed in singing or in
playing on the harp, the guitar, and the harpsichord. I thus
acquired a profound knowledge of music. I had an Italian
singing-master, called Pellegrini, who came at six in the
morning to give me my lessons, which I received by candle
light. Philidor* taught me the science of accompaniment.
In the middle of. winter, I took a fancy to learn the bag
pipe; and I had such a talent for instrumental music, that
in less than two months I played as well, as my teacher.
M. ,de Zimmermann, whom we saw daily, next taught
me to play on the violin, in which I succeeded equally
well. Still, however, I was fonder of the harp than any
other instrument, and practised at least five hours a
day. Gaiffre, after forty-two lessons, would no longer
accept payment ; but he still came through friendship, and
taught me to decypher my notes. I had entirely reformed
his fingering ; he used to make running chords with one
finger,, sliding it along all the strings, as some persons still
do ; a practice which destroys both fineness and firmness of
touch, and is as ridiculous as it would be to finger the
piano so. Gaiffre could not make cadences, and I could
do so with. great facility. At last I bethought myself of
employing the little finger of the right hand in the arpeg
gios. I practised with the left hand separately, and made
* The real name of Philidor was Danican ; he was born in 1726, and
died in 1795, at London, whither he fled during the revolution. Though
an excellent musician, he is as well known by his talent for chess, and his
rules for that game, as by his operas.— (Note by the Editor.)

MADAME DE GENLIS. 63
if perform all the movements of the right. As there was
no engraved music for the harp, except some trash by
Gaiffre, I began to play pieces for the harpsichord, and I
soon advanced to the most difficult of Mondonville's and
Rameau's, and from them to Scarlati, Alberti, Handel,
&c. Encouraged by the strong admiration of Gaiffre, I
made astonishing progress ; I was visited and listened to as
a prodigy, and every one wished to learn the harp ; Gaiffre
was the only teacher of it, and at last his scholars became
too numerous for his attendance. I had the great pleasure
of being the cause of making the fortune of this worthy man,
who was as grateful to me as if I had learned the harp for no
other purpose. My love for the instrument, and my ardour
increased with my success. Towards the end of the winter,
I played at least seven hours every day, very often eight or
nine, and sometimes even ten or twelve. This rage for
study lasted more than a year ; at the end of which time,
from playing eighteen months, without counting my trifling
studies at Passy, I was really a performer of the first order,
and had reached a pitch of perfection as yet unknown upon
that instrument.
My father, who had remained in Burgundy, returned for
a short time, and afterward left us for St. Domingo, where
he hoped to re-establish1 his fortune. This long voyage
afflicted me extremely, and I found no consolation but in
. my harp. I was but fourteen years and a half old when I
made a strange conquest ; it was that of Baron du Zurlau-
ben, colonel in the Swiss guards ; he was eighty years of
age, and became so enamoured of me, that he proposed to
marry me; but I declared, in spite of my timidity, that
nothing in the world would ever induce me to accept an old
man for my husband. A short time afterward, M. de Mon-
ville became a widower ; as soon as he was out of mourning,
he came to pay us a visit, which he repeated often. Though
so young, I was very soon sensible of the sentiments he felt
for me. He was young, and could not then be more than
twenty-six or twenty-eight;' he was handsome, and of a

64 MEMOIRS OF
noble and romantic style of manly beauty,- which was infi
nitely to my taste ; his manners were full of grace, he pos
sessed many charming accomplishments, his talents were
agreeable, and his character amiable ; and, joined to all this,
he had a large fortune. He was the only man of that age
whom I had remarked, or thought remarkable ; but 1 was
determined to marry no one but a man of quality, and
-belonging to the court. I should have preferred M. de la
Popeliniere, a farmer-general, and an old man, to every
other$ but this old gentleman had gained all my admiration,
and I only saw in M. de Monville an amiable man. Since
I had lost Mademoiselle de Mars, vanity had become the
ruling motive of all my actions. My heart and my reason
were so little cultivated, and I received so many praises on
frivolous occasions, that I had acquired a kind of childish
self-love, which led me to attach a prodigious importance
to all those ornamental talents which could give celebrity.
I really loved music and the harp ; but I should never have
given so much, and such constant study to an instrument, ex
cept to enjoy the secret pleasure of being looked upon as a
prodigy, and of seeing the most celebrated musicians come and
listen, to my voice and my harp with admiration. Pellegrini
dedicated to me a' musical work of his own composition;
an.d when 1 saw my name engraved at the head of a letter
filled with flattery, my joy was unbounded, and I showed it
without affectation to every one. I have never been guilty
.of any dissimulation but the affectation of courage ; I have
succeeded in concealing my griefs, but I have never dis
guised my sentiments or my opinions. From hence it has
resulted, that though all my resolution and self-command
have not endowed me with prudence, the frankness and
ingenuousness of my character have not rendered it too
yielding. I was exceedingly flattered to hear that a savant, a geome
trician of the highest reputation, had a passionate desire to
hear me play on the harp : he had written, it is true, some
work upon harmony — it was D'Alembert. He was intro-

MADAME DE GENLlri. 65
duced to my mother, and appeared enchanted with my
execution. He had a vulgar expression of face, arid was
fond of telling low and ludicrous anecdotes, in a sharp and
shrift tone of voice : I disliked him extremely. At this
time I frequently saw the famous Ranieau,* for whom I felt
a great veneration. But I have forgotten to mention a very
remarkable personage whom I saw almost every day for
more than six months before the departure of my father:
this was the famous charlatan the Count of Saint Germain.
He had then the appearance of riot more than forty.-five
years old, though by the testimony of people who had seen
him thirty or thirty-five years before, it appears certain that
he was a great deal older : he was somewhat below the
middle size, well made, and active' in his gait ; his hair was
black, bis complexion dark, his face expressive of talent, and
his features regular. He spoke French elegantly and with
out any accent, and likewise the ' English, Italian, Spanish,
and Portuguese. He was an excellent musician, and could
accompany any- song on the harpsichord extempore, and
with a perfection which astonished Philidor, as much as his
style of preluding. He was well acquainted with physics,
and was a very great chemist. My father, who was well
qualified to judge, was a great admirer of bis abilities in
this way. He painted in oil colours, not, as has been said,
in the finest style, but very well : he had discovered a secret
respecting colours, which was really wonderful, and which
gave an extraordinary effect to his pictures : he painted his
torical subjects in the grand style, and never failed to orna
ment the draperies of his women with precious stones : he
then employed his colours in painting these ornaments, and
his emeralds, sapphires, rubies, &c. had all the brightness
and the glancing brilliancy of the precious stones they imi
tated. Latour, Vbnloo, and other painters, went to. see
* Jean Philippe Rameau was born in 1683, and received a patent of
nobility in 1764, which through avarice he refused to register. He died
the *ame year. He was the composer of twenty grand operas, and the
author of two works on music. — (Note 8y the Editor.)
9

66 MEMOIRS OF
these paintings, and admired extremely the surprising effect
of these dazzling Colours, which however had the disagreea
ble effect not only of throwing the figure into shade,
but of destroying by their -truth all the illusion of the
picture. Notwithstanding, in- the ornamental style, these
colours might have been happily employed ; but M. de Saint
Germairi never would consent to give up the secret. M.
de Saint Germain's conversation was amusing and instruc
tive ; he had travelled much, and he knew all the details of
modern history with, such precision, that he has been said
to have spoken of the oldest persons as if he had lived
among them; but I have never heard him speak in this
way. He seemed to have the brist principles ; he fulfilled
all the external duties of religion, he was extremely chari
table, and alhagreed in allowing that his morals were per
fectly pure. All was grave arid moral in his behaviour and
his discourse ; yet it must be confessed that this man, so
singular for his talents and the extent of his knowledge, and
for all that, can secure personal consideration — learning,
elegant and uripbsing manners, exemplary behaviour, riches
and beneficence- — this man was nevertheless an impostor,
or at all events a person who had made himself eminent by
the possession of some secrets, known -only to himself,
whichhad unquestionably procured him a robuster health and
longer life than are usually allotted to man. I confess I am
persuaded, and my father believed it firmly, that M. de
Saint Germain, who seemed not above forty-five, was in reali
ty at least ninety. If men did not abuse all the gifts of na
ture, they would generally reach a much greater age, of
which we still see some examples ; if they did not yield to
their passions, and their intemperance, the age of man
would be perhaps a hundred, and a very old age a hun
dred and fifty or a hundred and sixty. In this case at ninety a
man would have the vigour of one of forty-five or fifty : my
supposition therefore with regard to M. de Saint Ger
main is by no means unreasonable, if we admit farther,
that he had discovered, by means'of chemistry, the composl-

MADAME DE GENLIS. 67
tion of some potion peculiarly adapted to his constitution ;
and we may suppose, also, without believing in the philoso
pher's stone, that he was much older than the age which I
have assigned him. M. de Saint Germain, during the first
four, months of our acquaintance, not only never spoke ex-
travigarttly, but never even uttered a single uncommon
phrase : and he had something so grave and so respecta
ble in his demeanour and appearance^ that my mother never
durst venture to question him relative to the singularities
ascribed to him. At last one evening after he had accompa
nied me by ear in several Italian airs, he told me that in four
or five years I should have a fine voice, adding, " And when
you are seventeen or eighteen, shduld you not be glad to
stop at that age for at least a number of years ?" I replied
that I should be charmed to do so. "Well," said he, " I
promise you it shall be ,so;" and immediately he changed
the conversation.
These few words encouraged my mother, who, an instant
afterward, asked him if Germany was really his native coun
try. He shook his head with a mysterious air, arid heavirig a
deep sigh, " All that I can tell you of my birth," replied he,
" is, that at seven years old I was wandering about thet woods
with my governor, and that a reward was set upon my head !"
These words made me shudder, for I never doubted the sin
cerity of this important communication . . . . "The evening
before my flight," continued he, " my mother, whom I was
never more to behold .... fastened her portrait upon my
arm." . . . . " Oh heaven !" cried I, upon hearing this excla
mation. M. de Saint Germainjooked at me, and seemed
to be touched on seeing my-eyes filled with tears. " I will
show it you ," he continued ; and at these words he bared
his arm, and undid a bracelet admirably painted in enamel,
and representing a very handsome woman. I contemplated
this portrait with the most lively emotion. M. de Saint
GermahVsaid no more, and changed the conversation. When
he was gone, I was extremely grieved to hear my mother ri
dicule his proscription, and the queen hismother ; for theprkf-

68 MEMOIRS OF
put upon his head at the age of seven, and his flight into the
woods with his governor, all led us to believe him the sonvof
a dethroned sovereign. I believed, and I wished to believe,
a romance of so extraordinary a kind, so that the pleasan
tries of my mother on the subject shocked me extremely.
After that day M. de Saint Germain said nothing remark
able m this way : he spoke only of music, of, the arts, and
of the curious things he had observed in his travels. He
gave me perpetually excellent sweetmeats in the shape-of
fruits, which he assured me he made himself: and of all
his talents this was not the one I esteemed the least. He
gave me also a box for bonbons of a singular kind, of which
he had himself made the lid. The box was of tortoise-
shell, and very large; the top was ornamented with an
agate in composition, much smaller than the lid. On pla
cing the box before the fire a moment, the agate was no lon
ger seen, Dut 'n ^s pla£e was a pretty miniature,- represent
ing a shepherdess holding a basket of flowers- the figure re:
mained until the heat was again applied to the box, and then
the agate re-appeared and hid it as before. This would be
a pretty method of concealing a portrait. I have since in
vented a composition with which I can make' a perfect imi
tation of all sorts of pebbles, and even of transparent
agates ; that invention has led me to guess at the artifice of
M. de Saint Germain's box.
To finish what relates to this extraordinary person,1! must
add, tJiat fifteen or sixteen years after, in a journey to Sienna
in Italy, I learnt that he had lived in that ¦city, and that he
was not believed to be more than fifty years of age, Six
teen or seventeen years after that, being at Holstekij I learnt
from the.Pririce of Hesse, brother rin-law of the King of Den
mark, and father-in-law of the Prince Royal, now on the
throne, that M. ,de Saint Germain had died in his palace six
months before my arrival in the country. The prince had
the politeness to answer* all my questions relative to this
remarkable personage ; he said that he had neither the! ap
pearance of infirmity nor old age at the time of his death,

MADAME DE GENLIS. 69
but that he appeared to be worn away by some insurmounta
ble grief. The prince had given him apartments in his
palace, and made chemical experiments with him. M. de
Saint Germain had arrived in Holstein without any appear
ance of poverty, but without attendants and without any
show of splendour. He had still preserved some fine dia
monds. He died of consumption, and was seized before
dying with unspeakable -terrors, which even affected his
reason, which two months before his death was completely
disordered ; and every part of his conduct proved him to
be suffering all the fearful agonies of a troubled conscience.
I was exceedingly grieved at this recital, for I had always
preserved^ strong interest in this singular personage.
As soon as my father had sailed for St. Domingo, my mo
ther began seriously to recommence and to follow up tne
most distressing of affairs — a law-suit against her mother !
That mother, however, was one of the most unnatural in
existence. The Marchioness de la Haie, my grandmother,
was first married to M. de Mezieres who- had an estate in
Burgundy near Avalfon. M. de Mezieres had much talent,
and was an excellent geometrician. It is a fact well known
in the province; that M. de Mezieres, who was a neighbour
of the celebrated Madame du Chatelet, cultivated her taste
for geometry and furnished her with all the materials for the
works she afterward published. It is singular enough that my
grandfather should have been the person who thus contributed
to establish the reputation of the greatest of Voltaire's admi
rers !
My grandmother became a widow ; she was still young,
ana! very handsome. She had had two children by her mar
riage with M. de Mezieres, a boy and a girl, (afterward my
mother,) the one aged eight or nine, and the other six.
She placed the girl in a convent, at the Abbey of Malnoue,
near Paris, and the boy at college ; and remarried before the
year of widowhood was quite expired. Her second hus
band was the Marquis de la Haie called the handsome la Haie i
he was first the page, and afterward the loVer of the Duch-

70 memoirs or
ess de Berri, daughter of the Regent, and very rich. Ma
dame de la Haie conceived a violent dislike to the children
of the first marriage ; she told the abbess of Malnoue that she
intended her daughter for a convent, and enjoined her to
bring her up in that persuasion. As soon as M. de Mezieres
had attained his thirteenth year, she sent him off as incorrigi
ble to America. This lad nevertheless turned out a distin
guished character, equally eminent for his talents, his genius
his courage, and his virtues. .On his arrival in North Ameri
ca he made his escape, and concealed himself in Canada
among the savages ; he was-not then fourteen. He made them
understand that he was abandoned by his parents, and wish
ed to live among them ; they consented, on condition that he
would undergo the operation -of tattooing, that is to say,
that he should suffer the whole of his body to be painted in
their fashion with the juice of herbs — a very painful opera
tion, which he sustained with a courage which delighted the
savages. He had a prodigious memory and a vigorous con
stitution ; very soon he acquired their language and excelled
in all their exercises. In order to retain what he had learnt,
(for he had been an admirable scholar for his age, and gain
ed all the prizes in his class,) he used to trace daily on the
bark of trees, passages of Latin and French poetry, and geo?
metrical figures. He had formed a great collection of these
pieces of bark, which he preserved with the utmost care :
he acquired the highest respect among the savages, and be
fore the age of twenty he was elected their chief by unani
mous proclamation. The savages declared war on the Span
iards. My uncle taught them improved modes of warfare^
and under his command they gained advantages over the
Spaniards which astonished the latter, who were surprised to
find such extraordinary talents in a chief of savages. - They
proposed peace ; my uncle was sent to negotiate it ; and he
completed the astonishment of the Spaniards by speaking to
them in Latin. They put some questions to this singular
savage ; and touched with his narrative, and charmed with
the talents and genius he displayed, they offered to attach

MADAME DE "GENLIS. 71
him to the Spanish service, to which he consented, on condi
tion of their making peace with the savages. When the peace
was concluded he made his escape, and passed into the ser
vice of Spain, where he conducted himself so admirably, that
he made a rich marriage, and in ten or twelve years was
appointed Governor of Louisiana. He bought some fine plan
tations, purchased a splendid library, and lived there per
fectly happy. Afterward he made a voyage to France,
where he found that his cruel mother no longer existed. I
was then at the Palais Royal ; where he came almost every day
to dine with me : he had a grave and melancholy air; his tal
ents were great, and his conversation of the highest interest.
Besides the extraordinary things he had witnessed, he had
read extensively,* and his memory was astonishing. - The
serpents painted by the savages upon his legs might be seen
through his silk stockings, so deeply were they engraved.
He showed me his breast, which was covered in the same
manner with large painted flowers, of which the colours
were very vivid. I felt great admiration and tenderness for
this singular and excellent person. He answered all my
questions briefly, but with exceeding mildness. I have nev
er known any one who said so much in so few words. He
had preserved a tender remembrance of the savages, and
even of their way of life. He told me one thing which
surprised me : he said that the generality of travellers, who
have spoken of the savages in detail, have (in spite of a lit
tle exaggeration) estimated their character tolerably well :
and though perfectly ignorant of their language, they have
made them speak pretty nearly as they actually do. " The
reason is plain," added my uncle; "if we judged the Eu
ropeans from their professions and their outward show,
we should be much mistaken ; but there is. ho deception in
judging of savages -, their gestures, features and actions ex
press what they are, and what they feel." Yet irt spite
of my uncle's remark, as metaphysical ideas are not repre
sented in this manner, a great many of the speeches which
* In the Latin, French, and Spanish authors. — (Note by the Author.)

72 MEMOIRS OT
travellers attribute to the savages, must necessarily he
ridiculous. My uncle gave me a short notice on the sava
ges, which he wrote at my request, and I inserted it six or
seven years after in my Annals of Virtue, acknowledging the
author from whom I received it. This part of the work on
its appearance was much spoken of; and the only fault
found with it was, that it was not longer. I did not change
a single word in it. His manner of writing is very remarka
ble for a man who had been exiled from infancy, and who
had passed fifteen years among the savages. My" mother
made always a third party in our conversations, and as she led
them, I was generally obliged to be no more than a listener.
I had thus an admirable opportunity for informing myself
with certainty of many curious things of which the know
ledge would have been most useful in the prosecution of my
favourite study — the human heart ; but I regret that I profit
ed but superficially by the occasion. Nevertheless as I am
about to publish in a few months a collection, of novels, I
shall write one called The European Sdvage, in which I shall
insert all my uncle told me, and the rest I shall endeavour
to supply from my own imagination.*
To return to the history of my mother. She was placed
in the convent at six years of age, and brought up in the con
viction that she was intended by her mother for a nun. The
abbess of her convent, Madame Rossignbl, was a woman of
great talent ; she became extremely attached to my mother,
and took the greatest pains with her education. Her board
was paid annually, but no masters alldwed her. The abbess
had her taught music, to sing motetts, and to play on the or
gan ; she dined with the abbess, and passed the whole day
withher. In the abbess's parlour she often saw the poet
Fuzelier,t who used to recite pretty pieces of his 'own com
position, which inspired my mother with a wish to write
* I have never had time to write this novel, which might have been made
very, striking.— (./Vote by the1 Author.)
t Louis Fuzelier, born in 1672, died in 1752, was the author of many
dramatic pieces.^-(jVote by the Editor.)

MADAME DE GENLIS. 7o
verses. Her first attempt was a kind of hymn in honour of
St. Cecilia : the abbess was delighted with it, and showed it
to Fuzelier, who gave my mother some rules for versification ;
with which, however, she was never well acquainted — a
thing much to be regretted, as she showed a great talent for
poetry. The very day on which she attained her fourteenth
year, she was made to take the veil. Her mother never
came to see her but once in six months at most ; and Made
moiselle de Mezieres, who had never received from her mo
ther a single mark of affection, durst neither speak nor raise
her eyes in her presence, but was forced to listen in silence
while Madame de la Haie poured forth common places about
the dangers of the world, and the delights of the convent.
She had scarcely reached her sixteenth year, when Madame
de la Haie informed her that she must, take the vows, and
devote herself irrevocably to the cloister : my mother wept,
but in vain, and a day in the month following, was fixed for
the ceremony. When the day arrived, my mother declared
firmly, that though she might be dragged to the church, she
would there, instead of pronouncing the irrevocable yes, say
no ! The abbess assured Madame de la Haie, that she would
certainly fulfil her threat, for that she had been remarkable
from her infancy for decision of character, and that all vio
lence that might be employed, would only serve to disgust
and offend the public. Madame de la Haie was furious,
but she was compelled to yield. My mother reassumed that
very day her ordinary dress, which she had put off two years
before : as she had grown much during her fruitless noviciate,
her clothes were become ridiculously ^hort, but this did not
lessen the pleasure she had in once more wearing them. She
was left in the convent, and never removed by her mother;
she became a delightful woman, equally remarkable for her
beauty, talents, and understanding. She was beloved by all
who knew her, except her mother, who showed openly the
most unjust and unnatural aversion for her daughter. My
mother remained in the convent till the age of twenty-six
years and six months ; when she became very intimate with
10

74 '- . MEMOIRS OF '
the Marchioness of Fontenille, a widow, who had retired to
the eonvent. The marchioness was a relation of my father,
who often used to visit her in the parlour; he there saw
Maderrioiselle de Mezieres, of whom he became enamoured,
and proposed marriage. Madame de la Haie with an unac
countable malignity, withheld her consent for three months.
Vet my mother could not have expected a more suitable
match ; her portion was only forty or forty-five thousand
francs, and she had met with a gentleman of, good family,
thirty-seven years of age, agreeable, full of talent, and ex
tremely handsome, and who had moreover ten or twelve
thousand francs a year. Madame de la Haie gave neither
portion, nor marriage presents, nor outfit; the good abbess
was at the expense of the nuptials. My mother was married in
the church of the convent ; Madame de la Haie came never
theless to the nuptial mass, with her two children by the
second marriage, a son of eleven, and a daughter of eight
years and six months, afterward Madame de Montesson.
My mother went immediately into Burgundy, to her estate
of Champcery, where I was born fifteen months after her
marriage. My mother had, at different times, fruitlessly demanded
her portion, that is to say, the portion which was due to her
from her father's property ; but had never been able to ob
tain more than a small part, and that by means of many im
portunities ; at the period of her ruin, she became more
'pressing ; <and at last after the departure of my father for
St. Domingo, she determined to commence a suit. She
wrote herself a memorial, which, before printing and com
mencing the lawsuit, she caused her advocate to communi-
pate to Madame de la Haie. This memorial, though tem
perate in language, was overwhelming by its facts. Ma
dame de la Haie felt this, and sent her son the Marquis de la
Haie, to my mother, to accomplish an arrangement between
his sister and Madame de la Haie. The Marquis, without
being naturally deformed, or stupid, was neither handsome
nor clever ; but he was possessed of goodness and feeling.

MADAME DE GENLIS. 0/&S
He had never till then seen me; he looked isflf* me ofteiv.
and with much tenderness, and displayed thefflre^test ihterJ.;
est in my fate. All at once he proposed to tal^uiJbMa^;
dame de la Haie's, adding, that on seeing us, ev%rirhtng
would be amicably arranged. ^^ss^
He pressed my mother so much, that at last she Con
sented ; he seated us in his carriage, and first conducted us
to the house of Madame de Montesson, who came to pay us
a visit on our first arrival at Paris, but never afterward
returned. Madame de Montesson was at home : my uncle
led us into her apartment ; she was not dressed, and did
not expect us, and appeared more embarrassed than touch
ed at our visit. However,, she said that she approved the
idea of my uncle ; that she would go and dress, and then
accompany us. I found in her neither the cordiality nor
the good nature of my uncle. She was a long time in
dressing ; it seemed to me that on such an occasion she
should have dressed somewhat more quiekly. My uncle
repeatedly called her attention to me; every minute he
said to her, as he looked at me, " How pretty she is ! how
interesting !" Madame de Montesson said nothing, but
hung down her head with a sigh, and affected an air of ten
derness. At last when she was dressed, she gave my mo
ther her arm, and passed on before us ; my uncle took mc
affectionately by the hand, and perceiving that I trembled,
he tried to give me confidence by speaking to me in the
kindest and tenderest manner. We got into the carriage,
and drove to the Rue Cassette, where my grandmother
lived. I saw that my mother was much agitated, which
shocked me greatly; it seemed to me strange, that one
for whom I felt so much respect should fear any human
being! Besides, I had heard such terrible things of my
grandmother, that even the voice of blood did not bias me
in her favour. On entering her house, my uncle and my
aunt left us in a cabinet, and went to notify to her our arri
val, and in a quarter of an hour they returned with my
grand-aunt Madame DessalSux, my grandmother's sister.

76 MEMOIRS OF
My two aunts gave my mother their arms, assuring her that
she would be well received; my uncle led me into my
grandmother's room. On entering, I felt the blood freeze
in my veins, and her countenance completely chilled me.
I had been told that she' was still handsome ; to me she ap
peared merely terrible. She was very tall and upright, and
in her whole expression there was something haughty and
imperious which I had never seen in any other person :
there were still remains of beauty in her features, but she
wore much red and white, and her physiognomy was at once
rigid, cold, and harsh ; it frightened me. My mother ran
to throw herself at her feet ; and I burst into tears. My
grandmother raised her but without embracing her, which
provoked me. My uncle, who still held me by the hand,
presented me to my grandmother, saying, " Mother, look at
this. Charming little girl!" and adding in a lower tone,
" Kiss her, mother !" My grandmother looked at me with
a gloomy and fixed gaze, which made me cast down my
eyes ; my uncle told me to kiss her hand ; I obeyed, though
in trembling ; she kissed my forehead, and I ran sobbing to
throw myself into my mother's arms. Madame de la Haie
rung, and demanded a glass of water immediately, when
Madame de Montesson and Madame Dessaleux pretended
to believe that she was about to faint, though there was not
the slightest , change on her immoveable and painted fea
tures : Madame de Montesson busied herself about her
mother with the inclination of the head, the half shut eyes,
and all the other airs she assumed on touching occasions,
which gave her the most hypocritical appearance possible.
When Madame de la Haie had drank, and drawn three or
four sighs, my uncle spoke with great feeling in favour of
my mother ; and Madame de Montesson said a few words
to the same effect. Madame de la Haie replied at first by
reproaches, but afterward she became calmer, and spoke to
my mother in an affectionate tone; she added, that my
mother might trust to her, and withdraw proceedings ; and
that she would lose nothing bj* giving that proof of respect;

MADAME DE GENLIS. 77_
my mother was touched, and promised all that was asked ;
she was then embraced, I might even say, caressed. Theypart-
ed completely reconciled. I saw that my mother was happy
— and-the secret joy I felt amounted to transport. My mo
ther, with a confidence and a generosity truly touching,vsent
immediately for her lawyers, and signed an agreement to
withdraw her plea, which she sent the very same day to Ma
dame de la Haie. My uncle came again to visit us, and tes
tified more interest in me than ever ; he was a worthy and
honest man, and of the most perfect sincerity ; but he left
us about this time for the army, anil was killed at the battle
of Minden.
His loss was a severe one for me ; for I am sure I should
have always found in him a kind relative, and a zealous pro
tector, and thai if he had lived, the conduct of Madame de
la Haie would have been widely different. After his depar
ture, we went several times to my grandmother's house
without being admitted. At last came . the news of my un
cle's death ; and the grief of Madame de la Haie on the oc
casion naturally suspended all thoughts of business ; but
when the first burst of sorrow had subsided,- arid my mother
renewed her solicitations, she received only dry and vague
answers ; she urged them more strongly, and her letters re^
mained unanswered ; she insisted, she wrote repeatedly, and
at last she was told that she had no right to any thing, as she
had herself acknowledged, by withdrawing her claim. This
blow was ill to bear ; our lawyers were enraged at this base
and flagrant act of injustice, and even those of Madame de
la Haie were shocked at it. As for myself, I was so surpri
sed and indignant, that I became ill in consequence; I had
no words to express what I felt ; and I am sure that if by
chance I had met Madame de la Haie I should have fainted ;
I could not think of her without shuddering, and I da. not
remember ever to have experienced through the remainder
of my life a more painful and violent emotion. My mother
on this occasion uttered the following noble sentiment: "My
consolation is, my child, that I have given you a good exam-

73 MEMOIRS OF
pie, both of a generous confidence and perfect filial duty." I
could only reply by my tears ; and from this time we never
again saw either my 'grandmother or my aunt.
About this period there was an anecdote so universally
repeated and believed in the great world that I cannot here
omit it. After the deatii of the Marquis de la Haie, killed
at Minden as I have alreadly stated, the Duke of Burgundy,
eldest son of the Dauphin, then twelve years old, and dying
of some unknown distemper, displayed great regret at the
death of my uncle (who had been his gentilhomme de la
manche*) and to whom he was extremely attached. The
Duke of Burgundy added, " It was M. de la Haie who was
the cause of my illness, but I had promised not to mention
it." The young prince on being interrogated, confessed
that one day being alone with M. de la Haie, the latter would
place him upon a rocking-horse, and had let him fall, with
great violence ; and my uncle perceiving no wound or frac
ture of any kind, and believing there was no danger, entreat
ed the prince not to mention the circumstance. From this
time the Prince became ill, and wore away, while the physi
cians were unable to discover the cause of his malady. He
had an abscess in his body. The young prince died : he
gave promise of a noble disposition, great talent, and sensibili
ty : if he had survived the unhappy Louis XVI. would never
have been king, which would of course have given another
direction to the course of events. Thus a child's plaything
—a rocking-horse, changed the destiny of France and that
of all Europe !t
I was fifteen when we went in April to Che villy, near Paris
* The place oigentitiibmme de la manche, (literally, gentleman of the
sleeve,) about the person of the presumptive heir to the crown, was given
only to young gentlemen about the court distinguished for their birth and
good character. It was suppressed after the death of the Duke of Burgun
dy, or at least the titie was changed. The menins of Monsiegneur the
Dauphin (afterward Louis XVI.) were the same officers. (Note by the
Author.) t There would have been other ministers, other agents of government,
&c. &c— (Note by the Author.)

MADAME DE GENUS. 79
belonging to M. and Madame de Joui.* M. de Joui, the
father o{ Madame d'Esparbes, (who is still living and was
then twenty-two years of age^) belonged to the courts, and
was sprung from a family which had been in the finances.
He was the son of a Madame Thoinard, famous for her
riches and her avarice, was very extravagant, and owed
enormous sums ; but he kept a splendid establishment, and
nobody suspected the bad state of his affairs. He was not
without talent, but he wanted judgmerit ; he was agreeable
and pleasant in society, but we had little of his company, for
he was almost always at Paris. Madame de Joui was, arid
had always been, an angel ; I have never found more sincere
piety, more perfect goodness, or a more arniable and more
accomplished character. .'She was forty but still handsome,
her manners were full of gentleness and elegance, and the
sound of her voice went directly to the heart. She adored
her husband ; and though she knew his faults, she never ap
peared to suspect him of any. Chevilly was a charming
spot, and unlike every other. The house was merely aferme
ornee, but convenient and delightful to inhabit. It was situ
ated between a large court and a delicious grove, especially
in spring when it was completely carpeted with double
violets and lilies of the valley. I shall never forget the
pleasure I had in gathering flowers all the spring in this fra
grant place, to make nosegays every morning for Madame de
Joui  There was in the wing of the house, called
The farm, a dairy ; it was newly built and splendid, adorn
ed with mother of pearl, and white marble, and vases in
porcelain. Here there was always to be found plenty of
excellent cream. The garden of Chevilly consisted, I think,
of forty acres ; it was entirely planted with fruit trees ; it was
square, and surrounded by four high terraces; each terrace
was bordered with beautiful rose-trees, sloping down to
wards the garden, and terminated by green arbour-work, be-
* ThisYamily is not the same with that of M. de Jouy of the French
' Academy.— (Note by the Author.)

80 Memoirs of i
low. which was a garland of strawberry plants, encircling
the garden : on the other side of the terrace was a breast
wall, over which there was a view of the surrounding coun
try, and beyond the wall there was a deep moat, the ap
proach to which was defended by iron spikes. At the end
of each terrace there was a little stone pavilion, consisting
of a pretty saloon, oven which was a terrace in the Italian
taste, to which you mounted by a little staircase. In the
midst of this magnificent orchard there stood a large pavilion
also built of stone, and of elegarit construction. The in
terior was composed of a very handsome saloon on the
ground floor, five,steps from the garden, to which you en
tered by a large glass door; the floor was of white marble,
and the walls painted with landscapes in fresco ; it was
superbly furnished, and all the chairs were covered with
cloth of silver. Over this superb saloon were three pretty
rooms, which formed our residence. Shrubs and flowers sur
rounded the pavilion, except where a space was left opposite1*
the glass door, to leave the entrance open. Thus we lived
amidst fruits and flowers of all kinds. Very often parties
came to take ices or collations in the saloon, and on such
occasions I was charged with doing the honours. In this
place I have often received the old Marechal de Villars,
then eighty-three, the widow of the great Villars, whom she
had married at fifteen : she was the handsomest and most
majestic old woman I have ever beheld. 1 forgot to men
tion that on one of the sides of the court were immense avia
ries filled with the rarest fowls of all kinds ; the most useful
of collections, for they produced excellent eggs. Beyond
one of the sides of the garden there were vast poultry yards.
I have since seen in France, in England, in Germany, and in
Italy many superb houses, but none so much to my taste as
this one. M- de Joui, the creator, as it were, of this garden,
had spent treasures in its decoration ; but at least there was a
simplicity of good taste about all this profusion which dis
tinguished it from the mere luxury of a financier. It would
seem' as if we might hope to be free from the hazard of ruin.

MADAME DE GENLIS. gl
when disdaining all the expensive trifles of a vulgar splen
dour, we love to be surrounded only with the riches offered
by the hand of nature — with flowers, and fruits, and domes
tic animals : but it must be confessed that many other tastes
far less innocent, contributed infinetely more to the ruin
of M. de Joui's fortune than the farm and the garden of
Chevilly. An adventure which happened to me at Chantilly, and
which did much credit to my courage, I shall here relate.
One evening, when a large party had arrived from Paris. I
was requested to play upon the harp : I sent to the pavilion
for my instrument, which was brought to me, but without
the key : in place of sending a~ second time, I lighted my
little paper lantern, arid ran to the pavilion : it was late.
and I knew that neither my mother's man servant nor her
waiting maid were there ; for they left us in the morning
when their work was done, and did not return #11 the time
we were about to go to bed, except two or three hours in
the day that the waiting maid passed with me during my
studies. We were all the rest of the time at the farm, sepa
rated from the pavilion by a large Court, and a great part
of the garden. I ran to the pavilion ; as I approached it
I observed on the sand a train of marks as black as ink ; I
paid.no attention to this, but on reaching the door of the
pavilion, and mounting the steps, I saw with surprise that
the door was ajar, and that two panes of glass were bro
ken. On entering the saloon, I perceived every thing in
disorder : all the chairs were overturned, and I saw upon
the white marble floor the same stains I had witnessed upon
the sand "and the steps, , and which I had supposed to be
water, which in the dark always looks black ; I stooped
down, holding my little lantern to the ground,, and discover
ed with horror that the stains were of blood, from which I
readily guessed that all the others I had seen were marks of
blood also. Seized with alarm, I was persuaded that mur
der had been committed in the pavilion, and the assassins
had taken flight. My first movement was to make my esr
11

MEMOIRS OF

cape ; but* I thought it would be more glorious for me to
car,ry off my key, and I immediately determined to do so. 1
passed through, the saloon like lightning without looking
round me. I went up- stairs,^ and, passed into my mother's
' room, trembling lest I should find a corpse there. I entered
my own cabinet, and seized my key, which seemed to me
a treasure of, glory ; and immediately 4 with more joy at my
exploit than terror at the adventure, I ran down stairs, and
happy to find myself; clear of the paviliota, I flew rapidly
across the garden and the court, 'and at last reaching the
farm, I ran upstairs into the room, and holding up, the key
of my harp in my hand as a trophy, I cried out" Here it
is !" At these words I sank info a chair, pale a death' and
scarcely alive. The company gathered around me, and in
reply to their questions, J related my adventure. It produ
ced a great effect, and my courage was extolled to the skies,
especially by the men, for the women somewhat blamed my
temerity ; and they were in the right — for such a pride,,
though it would have been a virtue in a man, was folly in a
woman ; and without that vestige of childishness which re
mains even at fifteen, and which I had even in a greater
degree than others, my folly would have been without
grace. Afterward all the gentlemen arming themselves,
ordered torches to be lighted, and entered the pavilion.
They found I had exaggerated nothing ; they saw the marks
of blood,' the broken1 windows, the saloon stained with blood
throughout, and in great abundance. AH their search how
ever gave them no further light oil the subject. On quit-
ting.the pavilion, they found the two lines of blood which
ran one from the other ; following that which did not lead to
the pavilion, it led them towards the poultry' yard, of which,
in spite of the rigorous p rohibition of the master of the h ouse,
the door was open ; and still pursuing the traces of blood,
they arrived at a hogsty in which a sow had just farrowed!
-The sow.; which had made: its escape in that condition, had
run about the garden, leaving here and there traces of blood,
of which several were broken. by her runnings to and fro.

madame de Genlis. (13
The animal finding the door of the pavilion unfastened, had
opened it by pushing against it, and had cut itself about
the head in breaking the panes ; and entering the Saloon, it
had overturned the furniture, and inundated the floor with
blood, and then regained its cabin. Such was the conclu
sion of this, famous adventure, which made a great noise
among the friends of Madame de Joui.
I passed all this summer in a way very agreeable to my
taste. M, and Madame de Jom had two children,' a boy
brought up with them called Mf Thoinard, who was then four
teen ; he was handsome, serious, studious, and passed almost
the whole of the day shut up with his tutor ; he has since fall
en in Corsica ; the other was the Countess d'Esparbes, then
twenty- two, and who is living at the moment I write this ; she
was very little, very short-sighted, with dull blue eyes, and a
nose somewhat irregular j she was red-haired, and very
pretty, though her physiognomy was not agreeable, but she
had a beautiful1 skin, a fine mouth and teeth, and lovely
hands. In speaking of these pretty hands, I recollect to
have heard her relate that, at supper in the king's private
apartments, she was ordered to peel cherries for Louis XV.
who always ate them in this manner, dipping them in sugar.
Madame de Joni said one day to my mother, in my pres
ence, that the dazzling whiteness of the hands of Mad
ame d'Esparbes cost her dear,, for that she often caused
herself to be bled without any necessity, merely to preserve
their beauty; yet the whiteness of her skin was 'not at all
like paleness. She came from time to time to pass two or
three days at Chevilly ; she was gay, graceful, and amiable.
Madame d'Amblimon and Madame d'Esparbes, were
then the favourites at court of Madame de Pompadour,, who
gave them in private strange titles, of friendship ; she called
the one Dishclout and the other Slut. This was not the
fashion among the mistresses of Louis XIV.
Our residence at Chevilly was terminated by a very dis
tressing scene. The creditors of M. de Joui, in concert
with, his family, who wished to save what remained of his

84 memoirs of
fortune, obtained a lettre de cachet, to imprison him at Pierre
Encise, where he remained several years. Nothing could
exceed ike grief of Madame de Joui, his interesting and
virtuous wife. M. de Jbui was arrested and carried off at
six o'clock in the morning, without having the least suspicion
that his arrest was contemplated, even the night before. Ma
dame de Joui, after his departure, received visits- from her
daughter and some of- her relations; but their visits were
very short, and none of these persons returned during the
short time we afterward remained atdhevilly. We never
left Madame de Joui for three days and three nights ; dur
ing which she remained in a frightful state ; and at my ur
gent request, I was permitted to pass all that time with her,
without once going to bed.- These were the1 first waking
nights I had passed in my life, and they were dedicated to
pity and friendship. During these sleepless nights and me
lancholy days, Madame de Joui often fainted, and wept
without ceasing ; she made me read pious books to her, and
often she pressed our hands, and embraced us in silence. She
never spoke, but from time to time to entreat that we should
retire to rest ; and on our refusal she Would embrace us with
an agonizing expression of features.. The fourth daywe
took some repose, and the following morning we went to
church ; we remained five or six days longer at Chevilly,
and then departed for Paris. Madame de Joui hastily set
tled some affairs, arid after having bid us the most tender
farewell, she went to Lyons, in order to be near her unfortu
nate husband.
My motherhired a small house in the Rue d'Aguesseau,
where she received several men of letters, among whom was
Sainte Foix, author of the Essays on Paris, of the pretty
comedy of the Oracle, and several other dramatic pieces :
his appearance and manners contrasted strangely with the
elegance of these agreeable productions ; he had a blunt-
ness and vulgarity in his tone, a hideous face, and a coarse
and sinister expression of features. A very witty actress
(Mademoiselle TBryant) said of him and M. Bertin the poet.

MADAME DE GENLIS. 85
who had a long pale face, dropped jaws, hollow eyes,
and a gloomy gaze, that the one (Sainte Foix) resembled
Guilt and the other Remorse; There could be nothing
more characteristic than this, to those who had ever seen
these two faces. But' M. Sainte Foix; though somewhat
of a Hector, was at bottom a worthy and an honest man.
Several artists came to visit my mother ; Latour the paint
er, who , spoke admirably upon his art. ; and Honavre, the
most celebrated pianist of his time, who gave me several
lessons on the harpsichord. He was at that time the only
person who .could perform a cadence with a bass executed
with the same hand. I transposed it immediately for the
harp, giving it the name oi Honavre'' s cadence, and it was so
much the" more surprising, as nobody could then execute'
even simple cadences upon that instrument. Casimir has*
invented a difficulty which is far more surprisingfand which
he only can execute; he performs With the same hand which
executes the cadence, simple and double trills with the
third, fourth, and little finger, with- astonishing brilliancy,
and the same with the left hand. Casimir, who has, as it
were, new-created the harp, performs many other pieces of
incredible difficulty on the piano ; and he executes upon
the harp, without any charige, the most elaborate pieces for
the piano. We also saw at our house, Philidor, the com
poser, and celebrated chess player -, Gaviriies, the most fa
mous viohVplayer of the day, and Barthelmont, likewise an
excellentperformer on the violin, who accompaniedme every
day on the instrument, and contributed to perfect my
style. He came gratuitously, and gave his instructions
with a zeal and attachment which I have never forgotten.
He went into England, where he had the good fortune, a
few years afterward, to become first violin to the queen.
He was as remarkable for his virtues as his talents. The
year following, T heard with admiration the famous Pughani,
one of whose greatest titles to celebrity, is his having been
the master of Viotti, a musician formed to serve for ever as
a model to all those who dedicate themselves to the fine

86 MEMOIRS OF
I
arts, by his prodigious talent, his cultivatedmind, his morals,
the purity and nobleness of his conduet, and the qualities of
his heart. In the midst of all this, I continued to practice
music ; besides the harp, on which I played six or seven
hours a-day, I played on the harpsichord, the guitar, the
mandolin, the viol, and the bagpipe, an instrument which was
exceedingly graceful ; the wind was produced (as I have
said) not by the mouth, but through a small pair of bellows
placed under the arm. With so much occupation, I had
no time to cultivate niy mind ; but I repeated every week
the odes of Rousseau and Gresset's verses, which, joined to
the Dictionary of Fabulous History of Chompre, which I
knew completely by heart, formed the whole of my readings
•I had an extreme relish for poetry ; frbm time to time I
wrote verses and songs, which, however, I never showed to
any one, and which, indeed, I seldom even reduced to writ
ing. I composed them in walking in our little garden, which
was my greatest amusement.
My mother had renewed her intimacy with a friend at
the convent, the Countess de Civrac, who was still extremely
handsome, though no longer young, and who loaded me with
kindness. We often went to sup' with her : on these oc
casions, I constantly played on the harp. She was an enthu
siastic admirer of my talerit, and I dare not venture to repeat
here the many foolish -things which came into her head,
when sfie saw me at my instrument. It was at her house
that I heard Albaneze, the celebrated soprano, who was
equally agreeable as a singer and a composer. Madame de
Civrac introduced us to the Duchess d' Uzes, her sister,
and to the Countess de Beuvron. I supped at some one of
these houses three or four times a week, and played always
on the harp. But, in spite of all the • praises with which I
was loaded, and in spite of my great youth and inexperience,
an instirictive good taste, whicftwas natural to me, made me
feel that my mother was far too lavish of my singing and my
playing. I was ill at ease in these brilliant parties, thbugh
T was excessively caressed. I discovered two things ; first.

MADAME DE GENUS. 87
that one ought not to enter into the great world but when
one can be on a footing with others, as to dress, &c. ; and
secondly, "that, if it had not been for my talents, these per
sons would have had no wish to invite me. These ideas
wounded my feelings, and bred in me a taste for solitude,
and an excessive timidity, which was long habitual to me.
My father, in returning from' St. Domingo was taken
prisoner by the English, with all he possessed; he was con
ducted to Lancestori, a seaport town in England, where he
found many French prisoners of war, and among others a
young man whose handsome face, talents, and accomplish
ments 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 into China, to Canton, where he passed five
months, and afterward 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'Ache, 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 Gen
lis 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'Ache 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 valour at Pondicherry. As soon as he
returned to France, M. de Puisieux made him quit the nayy
and enter into. the land service, with the rank of colonel of
grenadiers. While he was at Lanceston, he became; Very intimate, as
I have already stated, 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 a
father, who believed me faultless. The, English had left my

88 MEMOIRS OF
father my portrait, my letters, and those of my mother, which
spoke of nothing -but iny successes and my talents. The
Count read these letters, and they made a profound impres
sion upon him. He had an uncle, who was then minister
for foreign affairs, (M. de Puisieux,) who 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 afterward my father arrived at Paris.
¦ A. very short time after my father's arrival, I experienced
the most profound grief I had ever yet felt. Want of hiot
ney had obliged my father to give a promissory note. As
the time of payment approached, not having the entire sum,
my mother, in despair, had the courage to write to her sis
ter, Madame de Montesson, to explain her situation, and to
ask for six hundred francs. She received a note in reply,
containing a dry and decided refusal !'-... I have read this
sisterly epistle  My oppressed heart pardoned in the
end this unworthy proceeding — but how^ many things have
since occurred to recal it to my mind! My father was
arrested, and carried to Fort L'Eveque . . . . It would be
impossible for me to give an idea of the excess of my
anguish .... My mother went next day to the -prison, but
she did not wish that' I should accompany her ; I conjured
her, however j so strongly not to abandon me, and leave me
alone with my affliction, that she permitted me to follow
her. What a shock I felt in contemplating this sad abode !
and how can I describe my sensations on entering the place
where my father was confined ! I ran and threw myself at
his feet; I felt, in prostrating myself before him, as if I
sought to make amends, by my. respect and my tenderness,
for the humiliation to which I saw him reduced ; I kissed
his feet, which I bathed. with my tears; but he raised me
up, saying that I added to his affliction, and weakened his
courage. We returned to the prison, where we passed
almost entire days during the time my father remained

MADAME DE GENLLS. 89
there — that is to say, a fortnight ; after which the promissory
note was paid, and my father regained his liberty. But
grief had stricken him with a mortal wound ... he was
weak, languishing, and sedentary, and refused to quit the
house ; his only pleasure was to hear me play on the harp
and to converse with me. I asked him about St. Domingo,
the slavery of the negroes, the beautiful productions of the
country, his voyages, and his sojourn in England. His
conversation was as full of talent as of information ; I have
never met with any person who has read and remembered
so much. Each day he visibly grew weaker, ' though still
in the flower of his age. At last a disease declared itself —
a malignant fever, to which he fell a victim ! I lost him,
after watching and waking by him many nights, the sole
consolation for such a misfortune ; yet it is a consolation to
have fulfilled this sacred duty .... At this terrible moment
a friend of my mother's gave her the use of an apartment
in the convent of the Filles du Precieux Sang, in the Rue
Cassette. We retired thither, and passed there four months
and a half. To our great surprise, Madame de Montesson
came to the parlour to pay us a visit of form ; my mother
received her very dryly, and I preserved towards her ^l
chilling coldness- of manner. She never returned. Ma
dame de Montesson, in the midst of opulence, had refused
her sister, in affliction and distress, six hundred francs ! and
yet she thought she could not dispense with paying her a
formal visit of condolence. This trait was characteristic of
her ; she never had the idea of a genuine sentiment ; and
she observed, in reality, no other obligations than those
which custom and good breeding imposed.
At the Preeieux Sang, I conceived a high veneration for
the religious females of the austere orders, (those I allude
to followed the rule, and practised all the austerities of the
Carmelites,) as well as for their perfect piety, and their
sanctity, which surpasses all I can say in its praise. They
were happy, because entirely devoted to God ; there were
no little cabals among them, no envy, no evil-reports ;
12

30 MEMOIRS OF
these angelic women were occupied only, in praising God,
in attending the sick of the house, and in working for the
poor, for whom they made coverlids, clothes, and child-bed
linen, and on Sundays, lint for the hospitals and the prisons.
Several of the religious ladies became fond of me, among
others, Mother Seraphina , and Mother Veronica. I re
garded them with peculiar veneration, as I thought, that
from their entrance in infancy into this; convent, these pure
lips had never uttered aught but the praises of the Deity, or
the words of peace and charity ; that their ears had never
heard any thing, offensive, and that " their industrious and
ingenious hands^" like those of Solomon's virtuous woman,
had worked but for the infirm and the indigent.
Mother Veronfea, who was afflicted with a complaint in
the chest, was informed by the physician that she had but
three months to live. My mother had two large bottles of
sirup of calibash, which my father had brought from St.
Domingo ; I procured one for Mother Veronica, and, to
the great surprise of the physician, and all the nuns, I cured
her radically in less than two months.
I have not hitherto spoken of an old friend of my father's,
because I wished to bring together all I had to say concern
ing hum It was the Baron d'Andlau ; he came often to
visit us at the parlour ; he was more than sixty, generous and
kind. He discovered the greatest friendship for me, and
I was so much the more touched with this, as I attributed
these marks of affection to the remembrance he had preserv
ed- of my father; but at last he made "me understand his real
sentiments, by the most singular declaration of love which 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 favourable to his hopes. The same day he came
solemnly to demand my heart and my hand, and was extreme
ly surprised to find that his superb parchments had produced
so little effect upon my mind. My mother, however, desi
red me to reflect upon his proposal, stating that he was rich

MADAME DE GENLIS. iii
and of high birth; but I persisted firmly in my refusal, and
there was no more said upon the subject. He did not dis
continue his visits, but he was much more cold , with me ;
he paid attention only to my mother, and, to such good pur
pose, that eighteen months after, he married her, and I was
much better pleased to have him for a father-in-law than a
husband. I resume my narrative : — I delighted the convent
with my harp ; twice I sang motetts within the grated organ
gallery ; the nun, Who officiated as organist, played well ; I
was accompanied by her arid myself on the harp ; on these
two occasions there was an enormous crowd assembled to
hear me in the outer church. My mother received no visit
ers in the parlour ; she wrote or embroidered the whole day.
She was then writing her second novel, entitled, Letters of
Two Young Ladies. I forgot to say, that she sent the first,
(Le Danger des Liaisons,) to M. de Voltaire, who replied by
some verses, full of compliments, beginning with the four
following lines, which have been printed in several collec
tions, though they scarcely deserved such a distinction :
J'ai lu votre eharmant ouvrage.
Savez-vous quel en est l'eflet?
On veut se lier davantage
Avec la muse qui l'e fait.
My mother received several letters from M. de Voltaire. As
forme, I amused myself with reading some books which the
Countess de Sercey, my father,s sister, lent me ; among others,
the Essays on faris, of M. Sainte Foix, which interested
me the more from my knowledge of the author ; I found
that work to be, as it really is, very amusing, full of wit, and
of many curious facts. I read also the works of Moncrif,*
and the poems of Madame Deshoulieres. To these I added
the Thoughts of Count O^enstiern, and the Essay on Opin
ion, of M. Legendre, two works which my father esteemed
highly, and which had belonged to him, and, for this reason,
* M oncrif (whose real name Was Paradis,) was an author,; musician,
and poet, ke died at the Tuileris in 1770, aged 83. — (Note by the Editon)

92 MEMOIRS OF
they were infinitely more precious to me. I afterward lost
them, to my regret, in changing my residence. The Essay
on Opinion delighted me; this work, which is now no lon
ger read, is very curious and instructive. I made my first
extracts from this book, and "since that time I have never
read a volume without noting down its substance, or, atleast,
without making some selections. These occupations, with
the time I passed at church, my harp, and my other instru
ments, made me find the four months and a half very short,
which I spent at the convent of the Precieux Sang. I there
formed a friendship with a charming young person, whom I
have since met in society, Mademoiselle de Roissi ; she was
only thirteen, but extremely staid for her age, and very
clever. She was passionately attached to me ; and'when we
were about to leave the convent, she was so profoundly
grieved, that I agreed with her governess to conceal the day
of our departure.
We next went to lodge at the Convent of St. Joseph,
within which my mother hired a lodging, Madame du Deffant
bad apartments without the convent, but at that time I had
no acquaintance with her. Two or three months afterward
my cousin, the Marquis of Sercey, quitted France for St.
Domingo ; the evening before his departure happened to be
that of his birth-day. My aunt wished to celebrate the
day, but only amongst the family ; she begged my mother
to bring me, and allow me to play a httle part in the fete,
and iriy mother consented. I loved my aunt and my cousins
tenderly ; I wrote a song for my cousin, for which I also
composed the music, which I still remember, as well as the
first verse, which I subjoin. It was then the month of
October : -" De ces fleurs l'eclat dure encore ;
Vous partez, il va se fl^trir :
Voici les derniers dons de Flore,
L'Amitie vient vous les ofTrir.
I have forgbtten the others ; only I remember that the last
was thought very touching: Drest as a sheperdess, I sung

MADAME DE GENLIS. 93
my song after presenting him with a nosegay, and accompa
nying myself on the pipe. Afterward I returned drest as
a Spanish girl, and sung a song written by my mother to the
guitar, to the air of a march ; then I played on the harp,
which terminated our little fete. A few days after our
establishment at St. Joseph, my mother became acquainted
with a countryman of her own, of the age of twenty -eight
or twentyrnine, who was introduced to her by one of her
friends, M. Marin. This was M. de Sauvigny,. author of a
tragedy in three acts, called The Death of Socrates, which
had been represented two years before ; a piece extremely
cold, but which had some success, and which proved a talent
for versification. M. de Sauvigny had also written The
Loves of Pierre the Long and Blanche Bazu, in the style of
Marot; a charming piece, full of grace and naivete. I
have never been partial to this kind of imitation, but here
the imitation is so perfect, that it has all the merit of ori
ginality. There are in this romance some charming songs,
which Marot himself could not have written with more
beauty and naivete ; they were set to music by Albaneze.
A month after the departure of my cousin for St. Do
mingo, my destiny was fixed for life ; I was secretly married
toM/de Genlis.* M. de Genlis, who was then twenty-
seven, having neither father nor mother, could dispose of
himself as he pleased ; but he had a good reason for dreadr
ing an opposition to his marriage. The Marquis de Pui-
sieux, the head of his family, on his first return to France,
had proposed to him a marriage with a young lady, an
orphan, who had forty thousand francs a year ; her name
was Mademoiselle de la Motte ; M. de Genlis consented to
marry her. M. de Puisieux busied himself strenuously
about the affair, and five weeks after he told M. de Genlis
* In one of the lately published biographies of living characters, it is
stated that M. de Genlis married me in consequence of my great literary
reputation. At that time I had assuredly no reputation of the kind. From
this may be estimated the truth of the rest.— (Note by the Author.) ,

94 MEMOIRS OF
that he had hopes of success ; M. de Genlis was by this
time indifferent about the matter, but he durst not avow
fliis. Some time after, M. de Puisieux told him that the
thing was concluded, and that he had given his word. M.
de Genlis had not the courage to confess his sentiments,
and it was at this moment that we were married. M. de
Puisieux could not fail to be excessively displeased, that a
person whom he regarded as his son, and who was not rich,
should marry a young person who had nothing, especially
after he had suffered him to take a great deal of unnecessary
trouble, and to give his promise in vain .... his anger was
consequently both violent and of long continuance.
Eight days after my marriage we left St. Joseph, and
Went to five with my aunt* Madame de Sercey, who resided
in the Rue de Rohan. There I was married at her parish
church at midnight. The next day our marriage was pub
lished, and it made much noise, for the anger of M. de
Puisieux, who complained bitterly about it, formed the
subject of public conversation during several days. M. de
Genlis, a younger son of a family of Picardy, had only
twelve thousand francs a year, and no expectations but the
chance of a share in the property of his grandmother, the
Marchioness de Dromenil, who had about forty thousand
francs per annum. She lived at Rheims, and was eighty-
four years of age. M. de Genlis had served in the navy
with the greatest reputation for courage and ability; espe
cially, as I have already said, in a famous naval action com
manded by M. d'Ache ; when out of twenty-two officers,
there remained only M. de Genlis, who was covered with
wounds, one of which (in the thigh) he kept open for five
years, but had it healed upon his marriage ; and this being
done incautiously, produced in the end a terrible derange
ment in his health. For his share in the action to which I
have alluded, M. de Genlis received the cross of St. Louis at
the age of twenty-one — an extraordinary favour, of which
I have since Seen but one example. M. de Bullion.

MADAME DE GENLIS. Q0
for a brilliant achievement in the war, received the same
honour, but at a somewhat more advanced age ; he was
twenty-four. M. de Genlis remained long in the East
Indies, where he commanded a regiment for five years, and
was present at the siege of Pondicherry, where he con
ducted himself with the same distinguished valour which he
has always evinced. Pondicherry was taken by the Eng
lish, when all the French officers departed for France. M.
de Genlis, as I have stated, was taken by the English, and
carried into China ; he was more than four months at
Canton, from whence he was brought to Lanceston in
Cornwall. When he returned to Paris, M. de Puisieux
persuaded him to quit the navy, (he was then a captain,)
and to enter the land-service with the rank of colonel ; and
he was accordingly created colonel of grenadiers.
I passed only ten days at Paris after my marriage. M.
de Genlis waited upon M. - de Puisieux and the Marechale
Duchesse d'Etree his daughter, but was refused admittance ;
he wrote to theiri but received no answer. He made me
write to his grandmother, but she also made no reply. Of
all his relations, the Count and Countess de Balincour were
the only persons who, on that occasion, showed him any
marks of attention. They came to visit me, loaded me
with caresses, and gave me the most flattering hopes.
Their visit gave me inexpressible pleasure, and the grati
tude with which it inspired me, was the commencement of
my very intimate acquaintance with two persons whom I
have always so tenderly loved.
A visit which touched me far less, was that of Madame
de Montesson, who came to call upon my mother ; my mar
riage was flattering to her Vanity. She was very polite to
Monsieur de Genlis, who took me the next day to her house,
and to that of M. and Madame de Balincour ; we went to
Genlis four or five days after. My brother-in-law, who was
there in expectation of our arrival, received me with great
kindness and friendship.
The Marquis de Genlis, then thirty-one years of age* (be-

1)6 Memoirs of
ing four more than his brother,) had a handsome person as
well as his brother ; but he had a better air : indeed I have
never seen a more noble, light, and elegant exterior. He
had already lost all his hair ; 1 have heard that he once had
as fine teeth as his brother, but they were already spoiled ;
all his features however were handsome, and the general ex
pression of his face very agreeable. Never man profited
less by the most' brilliant gifts of nature and fortune. With
a remarkably handsome face, talents, and grace, he was, at
the age of fifteen, proprietor of the estate of Genlis, one of
the finest in the realm, and free from all incumbrances, with
4;he certainty of one day possessing that of Sillery, which
came to him in reversion. M. de Puisieux, his guardian, to
whom the king was much attached, made him colonel at the
age of fifteen, at the same time saying to him, " If you
conduct yourself well, you will make a very excellent mar
riage ; being colonel at your age, you have before you a bril
liant military career ; and for your sake, for I regard you as
my son, I will obtain of the king, on your marriage, the ele
vation of Sillery into a duchy." All this was certain, even
with the supposition of middling talents, provided only that
he kept himself free from extravagant follies. But at seven
teen, he discovered already a passion for play, and an ex
treme licentiousness of manners. He contracted debts, and
committed follies ; they were paid — he' was reprimanded.—'
he was pardoned ; but he showed no disposition to reform
himself. At last, at the age of twenty, he lost at play in one
night five hundred thousand francs to the Baron de Viomenil;
he owed -already upwards of one hundred thousand. The
anger of M. de Puisieux was excessive, and carried him too
far ; he obtained a httre de cachet, and confined his ward in
the Castle of Saumur for five years ; as my brother-in-law
used to say, a year for each hundred thousand francs. His
military career was closed through this rigour; having been
obliged to quit the service, he never again entered it.
When he got out of Saumur, one half of his debts had been
already paid ; M. de Puisieux obtained an order to prevent

MADAME DE GENLIS, 97
him from disposing of his estate, and exiled him to Genlis.
This estate produced nearly seventy-five thousand francs a
year ; my brother-in-law had an allowance of fifteen thou
sand, and the rest was employed in the payment of the re
mainder of his debts. His exile lasted two years, after
which he had permission to go to Paris, where he only pass
ed three months of the winter ; but M. de Puisieux declared
that he would never remove the'interdict till he should make
a good marriage. Such was the situation of the Marquis de
Genlis when I arrived at his chateau. Notwithstanding his
losses and his misfortunes, he possessed uncommon gayety.
Nothing in his behaviour discovered a taste for irregularities ;
on the contrary, his manners were exceedingly guarded
and decent; his pleasantries were always polished, gentle,
and delicate ; the gracefulness of his manners has been often
praised ; and it was really remarkable. A great many of his
bon mots have been quoted : he passes for having had a su
perior understanding ; this was not the case; he had only
the talent of wit, and a great acquaintance with the tone of
good society ; but he was incapable of the slightest reflection,
and of a frivolity, of which I have seen few examples ; his
talents were below mediocrity whenever it became necessary
to speak or act seriously. He pretended to have read much,
and complained extremely of his memory — the common ex
cuse of those who are ignorant, and ashamed of it. He mingled
in allhe said a dash of irony and a slighttone of ridicule, which
he brought into fashion, but which no one could employ with
so much grace ; this tone in him had nothing offensive about
it ; it was his style of gayety, and had no mixture of bitter
ness in it. This slightly mocking wit, rendered him piquant
when you only saw him for a short time, and, on the contrary,
ended by "Tendering him insipid when you lived habitually
with him, for it was impossible to cure him of it ; for I have
always found that nothing becomes so fatiguing, and even in
supportable at last, as a person who has but one manner of
speaking, and one kind of wit, however brilliant it may be.
The Marquis de Genlis has been praised for his equality of
13

98 MEMOIRS OF
humour, which nothing could ever alter ; but such a praise
is oply due to persons of sense and reflection ; their equality
of temper springs from their courage and thtf strength of their
understanding, while the same effects are produced mothers
fey mere carelessness and levity.
I remained only a few days at Genlis ; I was there enter
tained with pond-fishing. Unluckily I went with little
white embroidered shoes, arid when I got to the edge of the
pond, I slipped into the mud : my brother-in-law came to
my assistance, and remarking my shoes, called me a fine
lady from Paris, which vexed me extremely ; for, having
been brought up in a country house, I had announced all
the pretensions of a person to whom all sorts of rural amuse
ments are familiar. I replied with some warmth to the
pleasantries of my brother-in-law; but hearing all the
neighbours assembled at the fishing, repeating that I was
a fine lady from Paris, my vexation became extreme ; so,
stooping down, I picked up a small fish about the length of
uiy finger, and swallowed it alive, saying, " This is to show
that I am a fine lady from Paris." I have done many other
foolish things in my life, but certainly nothing so whimsical
as this. Every one was confounded. M. de Genlis scolded
me a great deal, and terrified me by saying, that the fish
might live and enlarge in my stomach — a fright of which I
did not get rid for several months.
Towards the end of November, M. de Genlis carried me
to the abbey of Origny Sainte Benoite, eight leagues from
Genlis, and two from St. Quentin. I was to remain there
four months — that is to say, all the time that my husband
remained at Nancy, where the regiment of grenadiers of
France was stationed, of which he was one of the twenty-
four colonels. Thinking me too young to present me at
court, which was considered very licentious, notwithstand
ing the piety, the virtues, and the old age of the good king
Stanislaus, M. de Genlis judged it more advisable to place me
in a convent where he had some female relations. Besides,
at this time it was not the custom for new married wives

MADAME DE GENLIS. 9$
to accompany their husbands to their garrisons. Ma
dame d'Avaret, sister of Madame de Coaslin, was the first
who, three or four years afterward, set an example,
which was then generally remarked upon, and has never
been universally followed. I wept much at my separa
tion from M. de Genlis, but afterward I amused myself
greatly at Origny. That abbey was very rich, and its
abbess was always a person of high birth; the then ab
bess was called Madame de Sabran ; her predecessor was
Madame de Soubise. Though the nuns were not required
to give proofs of their nobility, they were almost all persons
of rank, and bore their family names. The houses belong
ing to the abbey, were very large and elegant. There
were upwards of one hundred religious women, without
counting those employed in servile occupations, and two
classes of boarders, the one consisting of children, the other
of young persons from twelve to eighteen years of age.
The plan of education was excellent for forming virtuous,
industrious, and sensible wives, intended to live in the
country. I had pretty apartments within the convent,
with a waiting-maid, and I had a man-servant, who lodged
with the domestics of the abbess in the external part of the
abbey ; I dined at the table of the abbess,, who had
always excellent cheer. We were waited on by two nuns
who did that part of the duty of the convent. My break
fast was always brought into my room. The abbess re
ceived gentlemen at dinner, and in her apartments, but
they were not permitted to go elsewhere ; indeed, the
nuns were not permitted to show themselves. The abbess
had her servants, a carriage and horses, and she had a right
to go out in her carriage, accompanied by her chapeline,
and the nuns she might choose to accompany her. She
often went to walk in the fields, to visit some parts of her
property, or the sick persons, to whom she herself carried
assistance; I accompanied her twice on these charitable
expeditions, which took place mostly in summer. Each
nun had a neat cell, and a pretty little garden of her own.

100 MEMOIRS OP
i
within the vast enclosure of the abbey garden. One of the
nuns had in hers a large rock, from which issued a fountain
of water excellent for drinking. The frankness and the
piety of these religious persons often brought to my re
membrance my angelic nuns of the Rue Cassette. Yet
they were much less perfect. There was the same faith,
the same candour, the same taste for industry, but not
the same union among themselves. The abbess had her
favourites, the- great dignitaries, the lady steward, the lady
ehapeline — and this formed a sort of party, which again
produced another party, which might be called the opposi
tion ; but there was no malignity, and no perfidy. Religion
mingled in the jealousies of both, appeasing and pacifying
the spirits of all.
What particularly marked, the two parties was, the ten
der union of the members of each, and the little preferences
by which they distinguished their friends. 1 had an oppor
tunity of knowing every thing to its foundation, for I did
not scruple, in spite of the abbess's kindness to me, to range
myself on the side of the opposition, that is, to choose all
my favourites from them, for there was on that side a little
air of opposition which touched me ; and besides, a relation
of M. de Genlis happened to be of the number. This was
Madame de Rochefort, daughter of the Marquis of St.
Pouen, and sister of Madame de Balincour. Her father
had forced her to take the vows, at the age of seventeen ;
she loved her cousin, the Comte de Rochefort, and was
beloved ; she was extremely urihappy during the two first
years of her profession, but, at last, she became perfectly
resigned to her fate ; she was thirty years old when I
arrived at Origny, and an excellent person. She spoke to
me often of her sister, Madame de Balincour, whom she
loved tenderly, and from whom, once a year, she received
little presents, which delighted the nuns — sugar, coffee,
wool, and silk for embroidering. Madame de Rochefort,
on the other hand, sent her all sorts of work, done with
the care and perfection of which nuns alone seem to be

MADAME DE GENLIS. 101
capable. Madame de Rochefort made me promise, that,
when I went to Paris, I would request Madame de Balin
cour to demand permission of the Archbishop to authorize
her, for the benefit of her health, to pass three or four
months with her family, that is to say, with her beloved
sister — a permission seldom refused to persons of the age
and station of Madame de Balincour, and for persons who
were no longer young. I found means to interest M. and
Madame de Balincour in favour of Madame de Rochefort,
that they invited her to come. She passed four months at
Balincour, of which three glided by in peace and happi
ness ; but M. de Balincour one day carried her to the
house of a young peasant girl, named Nicole, whom he had
given away in marriage four years before. This picture of
rustic union, and perfect felicity — of Nicole in the midst of
her happy family, and surrounded by her three infants, and
her young husband, her father and her mother — recalled to
the mind of the unfortunate nun her first love, and hopes of
happiness, gone beyond return !... and while every one
was contemplating with pleasure that interesting spectacle,
she fainted .... The thought was to her a death-wound —
she fell rapidly into a mortal consumption, and never re
turned to her convent ; her father who, doubtless for his
punishment, still lived, came to carry his dying daughter
into Auvergne, to an estate where, shortly after, she ex
pired in his arms ! It was this story, which I have here
related with scrupulous fidelity, on which I shortly after
ward founded the first novel I ever showed to any one. I
wrote it as well as I could, with little embellishment. I
read it to M. de Genlis, and M. de Sauvigny,. who were
delighted with it. It was the first encouragement I had
ever received ; since that time I have transferred it to
Adeh et Theodore : it is the Episode of Cecile.
To return to Origny. I was comfortable here, and belov
ed ; I often played on the harp in the abbess's apartment ; I
sung motetts in the organ gallery of the church, and I play
ed tricks with the nuns : I ran about the corridors in the

102 MEMOIRS OF
night, that is, at midnight, in strange disguises, generally at
tired as the devil, with horns on my head, and my face
blackened ; I awoke the young nuns ; I entered quietly into
the cells of the old women whom I knew to be deaf, and
painted their faces with rouge and patches, without awaken
ing them. They got up every night to go the choir ; and
their surprise may be guessed at, when, after hastily dressr
ing without a glass, they met at the church, and fo;nd each
other thus painted and patched. I easily gained admission
into the cells, for the nuns are forbidden to lock themselves
in, and are obliged to leave their keys in the door, day and
night. During the carnival, with the abbess's permission,
I gave balls in my apartments twice a week. I was per
mitted to introduce the village fiddler, who was blind of
one eye, and sixty years old. He piqued himself upon
knowing all the figures and steps, and I still recollect that
he called the chasses^angMes. My dancers were the nuns
and the boarders ; the former represented the men, and the
others were the ladies. I gave for refreshments, cider, and
excellent pastry made in the convent. I have since been
at many superb balls, but certainly I have never danced at
any with so much spirit and gayety Of heart.
There happened here a grand adventure, which spread
the fame of my courage through the convent. A young
person, who wished to become a nun, came with her mother
to Origny, where they were lodged in some large rooms ad
joining to mine, and which had been empty for the last three
years. Every body in the convent went to bed before ten •
for my own part, I generally wrote, read, or played on the
harp, till two o'clock in the morning ; the very night of the
arrival of the young novice, I heard some one at midnight
knock gently at the door of my room ; it was the novice and
her mother. They were trembling, and told me that they
had been awakened by a strange noise, which they heard in
a cabinet adjoining their room, and into which they had not
entered. As the night was very windy, I told them that the
noise was not surprising. They replied, that it was so pro-

MADAME DE GENUS. 1QS
digious that it seemed as if some person without was at
tempting to break open the windows which looked out upon
the poultry-yard. The mother thought it must be a robber,
who, having scaled the walls, was endeavouring to enter the
house ; the daughter said she believed it simply to be an
apparition. Mademoiselle Victoire, my waiting-maid, who
was very courageous, offered to go and investigate the mat
ter; and I, piqued with the desire of emulating her, said that
we should all accompany her. All agreed to go ; I distri
buted arms, the broom, the tongs, fire-shovel, &c. I marched
at their head, and we entered very gayly into the apartment
of the two strangers ; on arriving at the door of the cabinet,
we listened, and heard in reality an extraordinary noise.
Nevertheless, with one of those impulses of imprudence and
boldness which have often inspired me through my life, I
burst open the door, and made Victoire, who had a light, en
ter first : opposite the door was a window with a large white
curtain drawn . . . and scarcely had the valorous Victoire cast
hereyes on this curtain, than she turnedpale, her knees shook,
and the light wavered in her trembling hand ; for she saw,
as I did at the same moment, two large feet which passed
out under this curtain ... It was equal to seeing a robber ;
but, without more consideration I rushed forward, exclaim
ing, " Well let us speak to him ; do not leave me alone, but
come forward !" . . . and, as I said this, I laid hold sud
denly on the curtain .... What was our agreeable surprise,
on discovering that these supposed feet were only a pair of
men's shoes, so placed as to produce the illusion which had
so alarmed us. As to the noise, it proceeded from a screen,
of which one of the nails had been loosened, so that when
put in motion by the wind, it struck against the window with
such force as to have broken two or three panes. This
apartment had been inhabited some years before, by an old
lady, who was waited upon by her own man-servant, a per
mission which was granted to all the married^boarders, and
which I had myself; the large shoes had apparently belong
ed to the servant, who had forgotten to carry them away ;

104* MADAME DE GENLIS.
the room was never entered, so that the shoes still remained
there. I .'passed four months and a half at Origny, and my time
passed away very agreeably. I learnt of the nuns several
pretty kinds of work, and of a servant of the poultry-yard
how to bring up pigeons and fowls ; I also taught myself to
make pastry and entrements ; my guitar, my harp, and my
pen, employed me a great part of the day, and I devoted
at least two hours every morning to reading. I was very
ignorant, for I had never read any books, all my time up to
that period, having been given to the study of music ; how
ever I was very curious, and I burned with anxiety to ac
quire information. They lent me at the convent the ines
timable Ecclesiastical History of Feury, with which I was
enchanted : and a lady of St. Quentin lent me Pompignan's '
poems, and a volume of Moncrif s songs. I was passionately
fond of verse, and I composed many poems at Origny,
among others a kind of Epistle on the Happiness of a ReU
gious -life, and the Tranquillity of the Cloister ; and I made
extracts from all I read — a habit which I have preserved all
the rest of my life. Besides, I wrote long letters to my
mother and M. de Genlis; and amidst all these constajjit
and lasting occupations, I still found time to achieve so many
school girls' frolics, that it would require a volume to detail
them. My mother gave me a proof of her tenderness and good
ness, by coming to Origny to see me, and passing six weeks
with me in the convent. She lodged within the convent,
in a large room which was vacant, adjoining to mine. I
invented all sorts of things for her amusement. The abbess
had a waiting-maid who had attended her for ten years,
called Mademoiselle Beaufort ; she was the best creature
in the world, and made delicious cream custards ; a merit
which produced between us a very intimate acquaintance.
She told me of a rustic marriage which was to take place
in: some farmer's family "of her acquaintance, a league from
Origny, to which she had obtained permission of the abbess

MADAMEi DE GENUS. 105
to go ; I wished also to be of the party, but incognito, and
disguised as a peasant, with Mademoiselle Victoire, and my
mother, also disguised as peasants, and all unknown to the
abbess. Mademoiselle Beaufort was delighted with the
invention, and furnished us with dresses. We bribed a por
tress, sent word to the abbess that we were ill with headachs,
and that we should dine in our rooms ; and we set off by
stealth at one in the afternoon. We went to the farm in a
cart, and were presented to the new-married people as
peasants, relations of Mademoiselle Beaufort, who added
that I was her god-daughter. I met with the most brilliant
reception at this little party, which we did not leave till the
fall of day. But a terrible storm awaited us at Origny ;
We had been betrayed by some one : the abbess knew of our
frolic, and was exceedingly scandalized at our disguises, and
especially at our having left the abbey without acquainting
her. I represented to her mildly, that being with my mother,
my excursion at least could have nothing improper in it.
The abbess then threw out all her venom on Mademoiselle
Beaufort; and the next day the poor woman entered my
room in tears, telling me that the abbess had discharged her.
"Well," said I, " I will take you into my service." Made
moiselle Beaufort was transported with joy, and installed her
self forthwith in my apartments. In vain the abbess fumed
and fretted ; I persisted with great coolness in my resolution,
and Mademoiselle Beaufort remained with me. We had
already performed in our rooms several little scenes to amuse
my mother in the evening, when all those belonging to the
convent had retired. Mademoiselle Beaufort, to my.gri3"*
surprise, requested me to assign her the part rS ~a °
-. , ¦ c , n u 1 -At the habit of talk-
ess; she was forty-nve years old, or-
. A m tn^, c, ¦ Jl.v.0, bunt was at Origny that 1 gave
trie last touches of perfection to these imagiriary dialogues,
to which the sound of my voice imparted an appearance of
truth, which was almost equal to reality, and in some respects
was better; for what human friend can enter into our sen
timents, can love us, and understand us so well as the ficti-'
rious one whom we create for ourselves ? It is certain that

106 MEMOIRS OF
vant Lemire, assuring her that it was indispensable she should
wear on her head a cotton nightcap, worked all over with
coloured wool, which my mother's man-servant lent her :
thus agreeably equipped, she performed in the most comical
style imaginable the part of Charmant. As she continued
perpetually to ask me to let her perform shepherdesses, I
wrote a little pastoral piece for her. We extolled so ex
travagantly her acting and her graces, and she became so
persuaded that she was ravishing in this costume, that I pro
posed to her to wear it constantly, to which she consented.
From this time she was always dressed in the taste of the
shepherdesses of the idylls, with short white petticoats bor
dered with ribbons of various colours, and wearing on one
side of the head a little straw hat ornamented with flowers,
or with her hair drest and powdered to hide her gray locks';
and when she left my apartments to go into the convent I
always insisted on her taking her crook, a thing of which at
last she contracted a habit. All my friends encouraged her
pastoral illusions, and when the rest laughed at her, Made
moiselle Beaufort told them it was only to pay their court
to the abbess. I kept her with me, thus attired as a shep
herdess, for more than two months ; up to the time when
M. de Genlis, on returning from his regiment, came to carry
me back with him; the aspect of Mademoiselle Beaufort
(whom I always styled my shepherdess) astonished him
prodigiously; but at my repeated request, he consent
ed to take her with us to Genlis, still wearing her pasto
ral dress ; and very soon what was at first complaisance
::'f':>."?, {.at last a real amusement to him. I kept my shep-
in. a large !»._.. k two or three months, when news of an
invented all sorts 01 ^;> -'-Wble inheritanfp called her
had a waiting-maid who haa aneiutei/iier for* toi.- ,..,..,
called Mademoiselle Beaufort ; she was the best creature
in the world, and made delicious cream custards ; a merit
which produced between us a very intimate acquaintance.
She told me of a rustic marriage which was to take place
in some farmer's family of her acquaintance, a league from
Origny, to which she had obtained permission of the abbess

MADAME DE GENUS. 101
I shall now resume the thread of my narrative and return
to Origny.
One praise I may venture to give myself, because I am
quite sure I deserve it ; and that is, that I have always had a
clear judgment, and consequently a great foundation of
sense ; yet I have committed a thousand follies — a thousand
unreasonable things ; and no one existing has ever reflected
less than I upon her present interests, her conduct, and its
consequences : at the same time no human being has ever
reflected more on what was not personal to herself — on her
reading, on mankind, on the world, and on chimeras. Go
verned by my imagination from infancy, I have always loved
better to busy myself with what I created than with what
already existed. I have never considered the future but as
a dream, where one may introduce any thing that onepleases.
It seems to me insipid to place there only things so proh&ble
that any one may believe they will occur. I had not the
gift of foresight but I had that of invention. I have already
said that in my childhood I delighted in composing fictions
which had no reference to the destiny I might naturally ex
pect. I loved to place myself in extraordinary situations,
and to see myself triumph over all the obstacles of adversity.
1 had. always preserved this mania, which enabled me to pass
many delicious hours in the solitude of Origny. Every
evening before retiring to rest, I gave myself up for an hour,
and sometimes fonger, to this kind of meditation: often I
fancied myself with a female friend, to whom I related my
astonishing adventures ; my friend interrupted or interrogated
me ; and her surprise, her admiration, and her eulogies en
chanted me. I had always had somewhat the habit of talk
ing aloud in these reveries, but it was at Origny that I gave
the last touches of perfection to these imaginary dialogues,
to which the sound of my voice imparted an appearance of
truth, which was almost equal to reality, and in some respects
was better; for what human friend can enter into our sen
timents, can love us, and understand us so well as the ficti-'
tious one whom we create for ourselves 1 It is certain that

108 MEMOIRS OF
these reveries strengthened my character and my heart, and
they have been very useful to me since the revolution ; but
up to that period, and in the ordinary course of events, they
have been highly injurious to me, by hindering me from re
flecting on what I had really before me-, so that I have
grown old with all my faults, and my experience has had but
little effect either on my conduct or my disposition.
I remained four months and a half at Origny ; at the end
of which time M. de Genlis came to take me away in the
month of April. I had become so much attached to these
good Uuns, that I melted into tears on quitting them. I
proposed seriously to M. de Genlis to allow me to remain
with them a month longer ; and was much surprised at re
ceiving a dry and decided refusal. All the convent was
deeply grieved ; for I had caused a great deal of bustle and
gay#ty. I have never seen in that convent any thing but
perfect innocence, sincere piety, and virtuous examples.
There was at Origny, a nun ffien forty^fbe years old, who
had given a striking example of a genuine and great voca
tion ; her name was Madame de Reith, and she was of remark
able beauty, even at the age at which 1 saw her ; she was
of an Irish catholic family, left an orphan at the age of ten,
and a great heiress, and had been sent to Origny at eleven,
to learn French and finish her education. On her return to
Dublin, at the age of seventeen, she declared her intention of
taking the vows at Origny ; every means was employed to
dissuade her from this step ; several matches were proposed
to her ; the most agreeable young men endeavoured to at
tract her attention ; she was introduced into the great world •
but she persisted in her resolution with unalterable firmness,
and when she became of age she divided her fortune among
her natural heirs, excepting fifty thousand francs, which she
gave to a hospital, and forty thousand to the abbey of Orig
ny, where she took the vail at the age of twenty-one years
and three months. She pronounced her vows a year after
ward. On quitting Origny we went to Genlis ; my brother-in-

MADAME DE GENLIS. 109
law was at Paris, from whence he was not expected to re
turn till July. In the mean time we paid visits to the sur
rounding gentry : almost all our neighbours were old people,
but all very pleasant to associate with ; among others were
the Marquis de Flavigny and his wife ; M. de Bournonville,
who had twelve children ; the president, de Vauxmenil,
whose son was an admirable painter of landscapes, and M.
de St. Cenis, the only one among them who had a young
wife. M. de Genlis and I determined to give a fete to his bro
ther on his arrival ; we had plenty of trine to prepare it ; it
was determined that we should perform plays, and in con
sequence, we required a little theatre ; we wanted a scene
painter, and sent for one from St. Quentin. The name of
this painter was M. Tirmane ; he was a person of fifty,
whose oddities and credulity, amused me excessively for
six months. M. Tirmane had as much vanity as simpli
city ; he was very good at painting the ceiling of a room,
or the ornaments of a saloon, and he fancied himself a Ra
phael and a Rubens ; he gave us a specimen of his abilities
in the drop-scene of our theatre^ of which he had the
vanity to make a picture which represented an ill-drawn
figure of a woman playing the harp askew, that is to say,
with the instrument placed over her left shoulder. M. de
Genlis, on seeing this chef-d"1 ceuvre, cried out that it was my
portrait, and a striking likeness ! M. Tirmane acknowledged
that he had in fact intended to paint my portrait from
memory ; and enchanted with this first successful effort,
he begged permission to paint me regularly; but with
dishevelled hair :- for he had been much struck with the
length of my hair, and its chesnut colour. I promised to
give him a sitting next day, and I prepared myself accord
ingly ; I painted my face with deep red, and parted my hair
into long elflocks without powder, some of which I twisted
about my neck, and some about my arms and my waist ; I
placed on my head a profusion of beads, tinsel, and flowers,
and in this attire I offered myself to the pencil of M. Tir-

110 MEMOIRS OF
mane, who was dazzled and struck with the splendour of
my beauty, inasmuch as I made an imperceptible mouth
by drawing in my lips, and opened my eyes with all my
might to make them look larger. It was thus that M.
Tirmane painted my portrait, that is to say, with the head
of a Gorgon, for these long locks of brown hair were like
nothing so much as serpents. A few days afterward, we
renewed, in favour of M. Tirmane, a part of the adventures
of Don Quixote, at the house of the Duchess. M. Blan-
chard, the house-steward, caused him to be robbed a^ mid-
day, two hundred yards from the chateau, by the gardener,,
who was dressed up as a robber, with black hair and mus-'
taches : M. Tirmane returned to the house in his shirt, and
related his piteous adventure, assuring us that the robber
was a foot and a half taller than the gardener. M. de
Genlis consoled him, by assuring him that he had a right,
in the absence of his brother, to condemn all the robbers in
the district to death. Two or three postilions on horse
back were sent in pursuit, who returned in an hour after
ward, bringing in the robber loaded with chains, which
occasioned a transport of joy to M. Tirmane. All the
stolen goods were recovered, along with several louis in
addition, which were adjudged to M. Tirmane, in the shape
of damages. M. de Genlis, dressed in a black robe, and
attended by the bailli of the place and the barber, shut him
self up in a room to interrogate and try the prisoner ; during
this time I remained with M. Tirmane, and three or four
other persons. In an hour and a half we were informed
that the prisoner was condemned to death. " Well done !"
cried M. Tirmane, clapping his hands ; upon this I told
him that he had now an opportunity of covering himself
with glory, by prostrating himself at the feet of M. de Gen
lis, and demanding the criminal's pardon: he was some
what obstinate at first, but I gave him to understand that he
would be rewarded for such a trait of magnanimity. He
then consented, on our assurance that the prisoner should
be imprisoned for life in the tower of the chateau : where-

MADAME DE GENLIS. H]
upon M. Tirmane, assembling all his sentiments of heroism
went and threw himself at the feet of the judge, and with the
most comical emphasis possible, requested the prisoner's
pardon ; M. de Genii? and his assistants, struck with admi
ration, pulled out their handkerchiefs, and pretended to
burst into tears ; afterward M. de Genlis told him that he
was grand-master of the Order of Judgment, that he should
be received a member of it in twenty-four hours, and that
that order conferred nobility upon all who belonged to it.
M. Tirmane at these words fell into an ecstasy; and he
has often said since, that this moment was the happiest of
his Ufe. As to the prisoner he was condemned to the gal
leys for life — a sentence which was highly approved of by
M. Tirmane. The next night, M. Tirmane was made to
perform the ceremony of watching his armour, in the court
belonging to the castle, with a gun on his shoulder, and a
dark lantern in his hand, in order to learn by heart, as he
walked about, a catechism of chivalry composed by M. de
Genlis, the most comical and absurd that can be imagined ;
he remained here till morning, after which he was plunged
into a cold bath, and then dressed in the white robe of the
candidate, which was the dressing-gown of M. de Genlis.
There were at Chaumy, two leagues from Genlis, the regi
ments of Chartres and Conti, to the colonels of which M. de
Genlis had written to come with their troops, to honour the
reception of M. Tirmane, the new made knight ; they came
at noon with a hundred men on horseback; all the young
men of the village, in white waistcoats, decorated with
rose-coloured ribbons, were also in the court-yard. The
candidate, as pale as death, and worn out with fatigue, was
led into a great hall, where I was seated on a throne of
flowers and branches, and encircled by the officers of the
regiments of Chartres and Conti, who had their swords
drawn. M. de Genlis fastened to his dressing-gown, with
a green-ribbon, an old gilt medal of the Chancellor de Sil
lery, which we found in the library ; after this, the candi
date knelt on one knee before me, and I armed him a

U2 MEMOIRS OF
knight, by giving him a lance of an enormous length, and
a helmet, which, was only a wine cooler covered with
gilt paper, and decorated with feathers. He was then
attired in another, and a more splendid dressing-gown, all
covered with scarlet garlands ; and equipped in this superb
style, the new knight, animated by glory, descended into the
court to exhibit his triumphal entry, amidst fifes and drums,
and the shouts of the horse-guards and the peasants, who
cried out, " Long live the noble knight Tirmane !" All these
honours so intoxicated him that he actually burst into tears.
After the ceremony we dined, and drank his health several
times ; he drank abundantly, and fell asleep at the dessert,
when M. de Genlis woke him to listen to some couplets
which he had composed in praise of his clemency. On
quitting the table, he was conducted to a bai champetre,
which lasted till eleven. Afterward as he was of the Or
der of Judgment, he was compelled to settle the causes of
several peasants, who played their parts admirably ; and at
last, overpowered with glory and desire to sleep, he retired
to bed at one in the morning.
These ludicrous scenes were followed by others, which I
shall always remember with,pleasure, but which would fill
a volume if I gave them in detail ; at last, we carried our
knight to the house of the Marquis de Flavigny. M. Tir
mane discovered in this castle the Queen of Alcala, who
gave him, with many ceremonies, the title of Don, and at
the same time, I was honoured with the rank of Donna.
From this time, the Chevalier Don Tirmane never gave me
any other title than the Countess Donna. After this cere
mony, the Chevalier was ordered to retire into a room to
compose an oration of thanks to the queen. An hour after,
being admitted to the foot of the throne, he said, " Prin
cess,, I am then a Don !  " He stopped there ; and the
queen was extremely delighted with a speech, which, at
least, expressed a very lively satisfaction. These follies
lasted three months, and I have never laughed so heartily
during the rest of my life ! When I felt myself beginning to

MADAME DE GENLIs. 1 1 j
laugh, I drew my handkerchief from my pocket, and the
Chevalier Don Tirmane thinking that I wept with the ten
derness of the scene, became himself touched with the ex
treme sensibility of the Countess Donna. But the most
singular thing about this long-continued mystification was,
that of all the domestics, the peasants, and our neighbours,
who were in the secret, not one gave a single hint to M.
Tirmane, which could tend to undeceive him.
However, since we had conferred nobility upon him, he
had become very insolent towards the domestics, and in
general to all who were not noble ; ' but every one amused
himself with his credulity, and each strove which should
load him with the greatest honours, and best flatter his vani
ty, which was extreme. M. de Genlis caused to be made
for him a most ridiculous dress, which put the finishing touch
to his happiness. The coat was brown, decorated with
enormous silver trimmings ; a waistcoat with a long brown
and silver fringe ; he had a hat bordered with broad silver
lace, and I made him a present of a cravat of coarse lace,
with two long ends which hung down, surmounted by a knot
of flame-coloured ribbon. He wore this magnificent dress
on Sundays and on the days when we had company ; never
omitting to fix at his button-hole his large gilt medal, sus
pended by a green ribbon. One day the Count de Barban
con arrived from Paris, and not yet knowing the Chevalier
Don Tirmane, happened to reach Genlis half an hour be
fore dinner. M. de Barbancon was a very grave person,
and we did not think of preparing him for the singular per
sonage he was to meet, as M. Tirmane was not then in the
room, but he heard that a stranger had arrived, and he has
tened to put on his grand dress, before he entered the dining-
room. At the sight of that strange figure, M. de Barban
con stood stupified ; and M. Tirmane, approaching M. de
Genlis, whispered in his ear to ask " if the stranger were
noble ?" and on receiving the answer of M. de Genlis, M:
Tirmane, in a tone of which it is impossible to give any idea,
advanced towards M. de Barbancon, and said with great
15

114 MEMOIRS OF
gravity, " Noble stranger, I beg to have the honour of the
accolade de la cm'ss'e." M. de Barbancdn's surprise was
extreme ; he stared at M. de GeiiliS, who haa advised M.
Tirmane to make this knightly demand : a sign which was
made to M. de Barbancon explained the matter, arid with,
great readiness he accorded the accolade de la cuisse.
The Chevalier Don Tinriane, wishing to leave to posterity
an immortal meriibrial of so marty marvellous adventures,
employed' his talents in tracing them frbm the comriience-
merit : he painted an oil picture, half as large as life, which
represented hibi in the forest of Genlis, near the beautiful tree,
called the tree of the four brothers, at the terrible moment
when he was stripped and plundered, as well as the steward
M. Blanchard. At the top of the picture was seen a part
Of the heavens, and the Holy Virgin surrounded by glories,
from which there darted a ray of light upon M. Tirmane ;
he also placed a little ray on the head of M. Blanchard,
Which he termed a ray of politeness, for he attributed to his
prayers alone, the miracle of his deliverance. He desired
that this picture might be placed in the church of Genlis,
saying, that all Picardy would come and invoke the Virgin
of the Forest of the Four Brothers, and that it would put
out of fashion the pilgrimages to Notre Dame de LieSse ;
but I suggested, that it was wrong to interfere with any pil
grimage, and that we should respect them all alike. I pla
ced this picture in my room, and kept it there a long time ;
I even had it when at the Palais Royal ; I do not know what
became of it afterward.
¦ ¦ The conclusion of the history of M. Tirmane is the most
entertaining part of his adventures. He lived eight months
at Genlis. During this time, he often wrote to his wife,
who lived at St. Quentin, to communicate to her the news
of his happiness and his glory. His wife, less credulous than
himself, assured him in her answers, that we were making
game of him ; he showed us her letters, laughing at the same
time, at what he called her incapacity for comprehending
things so elevated, and adding, " She must believe me, when

MADAME DE OENL1S. -115
she sees that as a noble, I no longer pay the taxes imposed
on the common people." "Certainly," replied M. de Gen
lis, " and for that purpose, you have only to show your me
dal and your diplomas of Crjevalier and Don." " That will
be a glorious moment for me," replied Don Tirmane ; " how
will the great folks of St. Quentin be humbled, when they
see me placed over all their heads !" and he named three
or four whom he seemed to feel a peculiar delight in con
founding and abasing. At last he left Genlis, and returned to
St. Quentin. His first care, on his arrival at his own house,
was to make his- wife and his two daughters kneel down
and kiss his medal. The next day he went to the town-hall
decorated with his order ; he displayed gravely his diplomas,
and the patent of the Queen of Alcala, who had given him
his title of Don, and that of her first painter. He then de
clared he would no longer pay the tax. His fancy was
thought so whimsical and pleasant, that it was resolved not
to undeceive him, and he was, in fact, exempted from
the payment of all taxes ; upon this, Madame Tirmane no
longer doubted of the reality of all his stories. All the town
of St. Quenfm was amused at this mystification; the noble
knight Don Tirmane was invited to dine every where, and
treated with the greatest respect ; this lasted twelve years,
that is to say, to the time of his death. Though I have sup
pressed many incidents, and all the details of this madness, I
am convinced that it still occupies too much space in these
memoirs. But I cannot help recalling with pleasure those
days when my gayety was so lively and so open, when I
laughed in the thoughtlessness of my heart, and when the
future, the, terrible future, was shrouded from our eyes by
an impenetrable vail.
My brother-in-law returned to Genlis ; when we acted
plays, and gave entertainments for more than a fortnight.
During this time I was constantly occupied ; I played and
sung four or fiye hpurs a day 4 I wrote to my mother and
Madanae ,de Montesson, who replied ^in a very kind and af
fectionate manner, and I kept a journal of all that passed at

116 MEMOIRS OF
the chateau; of which the adventures of M. Tirmane had
already furnished a volume. I had a great desire to read ;
the library of Genlis was very considerable. The late
Marquis of Genlis, a very grave and pious man, had col
lected one half of it, and my brother-in-law the other, com
posed entirely of romances. I had the good sense to pre
fer the books which had belonged to my father, that is to
say, books of devotion, history, morality, and some volumes
of plays. But as for history, I was so ignorant that I did
not know where to begin. A book of geometry fell into my
hands, and I found by the title-page, that it was so clear and
plain thai a child of twelve might understand it. 1 set my
self about reading it with the utmost avidity ; and being un
able to comprehend any part of it, I concluded from thence
that I had not even a common capacity, which discouraged
me infinitely. I acquainted M. de Genlis with my vexation ,
on the subject, and begged him to examine the book ; he
laughed at my simplicity, and informed me that, in order to
Comprehend the book, it was first necessary to have some no
tions of geometry. From this time I gave up scientific works,
and read the Roman history of Laurent Echard. I ought to
have begun with ancient history ; but, for want of a guide in
my reading, I went on without any regular plan ; a thing
which, in the beginning of my studies, made me lose much
time. M. de Genlis made a journey to Paris, and brought back
with him M. de Sauvigny, of whom I have already spoken,
the author of Blanche Bazu, and some dramatic pieces ; and
Provaire, the celebrated hautbois-player. I played on the
harp in a manner which was astonishing and unrivalled at
that period, but I read music very ill. Provaire was a pas
sionate admirer of my musical talents, and was extremely
surprised to find me so little versed in the science, though I
played very well on five or six instruments ; he entreated
that I would practise the reading of music an hour every
day ; I did so, and in less than six months 1 read every thing

f MADAME DE GENLIS. s 117
at sight, even the most difficult pieces for the harpsichord,
and I have carried this talent as far as it can go.
The conversation and the counsels of M. de Sauvigny
were very useful to me in another respect. He had a very
pure taste in literature, and has greatly contributed to the
formation of mine, in fortifying, by excellent reasoning, my
natural aversion for emphasis, affectation, and false bril
liancy. Every day, on returning from our walk, M. de
Genlis, M. de Sauvigny, or 1, read aloud for an hour. We
read in this manner, in the space of four months, the Pro
vincial Letters, the Letters of Madame de Sevigne, and all
the plays of Pierre Corneille. Besides this, I continued my
reading studies in my room, and my time passed away at
once pleasantly and rapidly. A surgeon from La Fere
came weekly to Genlis ; I went over again with him all my
old lessons of osteology; and furthermore, I learnt to let
blood, a talent which I have acquired since in perfection,
thanks to the instruction of the celebrated Chamousset.*
I learned also to dress wounds. In short, I lost no oppor
tunity of acquiring information, of whatever kind it might
be. With this natural thirst for knowledge, the conversa
tion of our aged neighbours did not at all annoy me ; if they
talked of agriculture, I listened with attention ; I asked ex
planations of whatever I did not understand, and each con
versation taught me something. I have followed this plan
all my life, and it is astonishing, that, with such a method,
and so excellent a memory as I have, I should not have
gained, in the end, a quantity of information, much more
extended and extraordinary than I have done. It is because
a predominant taste will allow nothing that is foreign to it to
remain profoundly fixed in the memory ; it is our habitual
* Chamousset was the first who opposed the cruel custom then in use at
the hospitals,- of crowding several siek people into one bed. He hired a
house at the barrier of Sevres, to serve as the model of a hospital : and the
success of his method brought about a reform at the Hotel Dieu, where, at
last, every sick person had a separate' bed. Chamousset died in 1773, at
the age of forty-six — (Note by the Editor?)

118 MEMOIRS OF
thoughts, our daily reflections, which form our various kinds
of information. I have been totally ignorant of nothing,
and have been able to speak tolerably on all subjects ; but I
have known nothing perfectly, but those subjects which re
late to the fine arts, to literature, and the study of the hu
man heart ; such were my tastes, and I have never reflected
seriously on any other matters. I have also observed that
persons of extraordinary knowledge, and remarkable both
•for the extent and variety of their information, had always
cold imaginations, and were incapable of becoming passion
ately attached to any particular art or study. About this
time I learned to ride, and in a singular manner. I used to
bathe ; and the water which I employed in bathing was
fetched from a river half a league off. A single plough-
horse was yoked to the barrel which was to be filled with
water. One day, when I was alone at the chateau, I saw,
from my window, John, the carman, set off on foot, driving
his horse. I thought ft would be charming for me to mount
this great horse, and to go and fetch water for myself. I ran
down stairs into the court-yard, and made the proposition
to John, who apparently thought it very natural ; for, with:
out saying a word, he placed me astride upon the horse's
neck, and we set out. I found my ride so agreeable, that
for ten or twelve days I took no other exercise. I acquired
from this a great love of riding ; and I was allowed to mount
an old little gray horse, which was still firm in the legs ; I got
a riding-habit, and I was thought to look so well on horse
back, that I got a large and handsome Spanish horse, which,
though older than myself, was very swift, and had an excel
lent footing. Very soon I was told that I rode too fast, but
it was in vain that I was forbidden; I could not obey, for
my horse regularly ran off with me, in" spite of all my at
tempts to check him ; and my ignorance gained me the re
putation of inconceivable rashness and folly, in thus risking
myself. Some months afterward, M. Bourgeois, an officer
of fortune in garrison at Chaumy, and an excellent rider,
finding me perfect in my seat, insisted on giving me lessons,

MADAME DE GENLIS. Ug
Which I took daily for eight months^ and became a capi
tal horsewoman. This exercise, of Which I was very fond*
greatly strengthened my health. We very Often went in
parties to hunt the wild boar. One day I bethought myself
of losing my way on purpose, hoping that I might meet with
some extraordinary adventure 5 and I set off at full speed.
I had an excellent horse of my own, which had beeh given
to me, and which had been chosen by M. Bourgeois. I sOon
lost myself in the cross roads, taking cafe to turn my back
to the hunters, and to ride away from the sound of the dogs
and the horns. Very soon I had the satisfaction to hear
nothing of it, and to find myself in a spot altogether unknown
to me. I still werit on at a gallop ; and what I hoped to
meet with was a castle, which I had never seen, in which I
Should find all the inhabitants full of wit and politeness, ea
ger to afford me hospitality. In three hours, still galloping
on at random, and looking vainly for a castle, I began to be
uneasy ; I fancied myself not less than twelve leagues from
Genlis, I was hungry, I saw no place where I could repose,
and all at once it struck me that at Genlis every one would
be in a state of terrible alarm about me ; at last, after wan
dering about for a long while, I met a wood-cutter, who in
formed me, to my great astonishment, that I was but at three
leagues from Genlis. I entreated him to conduct me thither ;
but I was obliged to walk my hbrse, and we did not reach
Genlis till night-fall. Men on horseback and blowing horns,
had been despatched on all sides through the immense
woods of Genlis ; M. de Genlis himself was in search of me,
and did not return till an hour after me. I was terribly
scolded, and I deserved to be so ; however, I had the can
dour to confess that I had lost my way intentionally; and I
gave my word that I would not, in future, seek to find out
unknown territories.
My rashness On horseback has several times threatened
to be fatal to me ; I am sure, no thoughtless young man was
ever more venturous than I in this respect: but with courage
and presence of mind one is always safe.

120 MEMOIRS OF
This new passion did not leave me to neglect either my
music or my studies ; M. de Sauvigny guided me in my read
ing : I made eontinual extracts. I had found in the closets
a large folio book, intended for keeping the kitchen accounts ;
I took this book, and wrote in it a long and detailed journal
of my occupations and my reflections, with the intention of
giving it to my mother when it should be completed.* I
wrote in it every day some lines, and sometimes entire pages.
Neglecting no sort of information, I endeavoured to have
some idea of field-labour, and of gardening ; I went to see
cider made, and I visited the houses of the village trades
men when they were at work, the carpenter, the weaver, the
basket-maker, &c. I learned to play at billiards, and seve
ral games at cards, piquet, reversis, &c. M. de Genlis drew.
admirably in pen and ink both figures and landscapes; I
began to draw and to paint flowers. > I wrote a great many
letters ; once every day to my mother, thrice a week to Ma
dame de Montesson, sometimes to Madame de Bellevau,
and pretty often to Madame de Balincour. Besides this, I
had a constant interchange of letters with a lady whom I had
seen at Origny, who now lived at Valenciennes. I thus ac
quired a habit of writing with great facility. A poet of
my brother-in-law's acquaintance came to spend three months
at Genlis ; his name was M. Feutry. He was known as
the author of a tolerable piece of poetry called The Tombs;
in which there are several very fine lines.
The same chance which in the course of my fife has
brought under my eyes so many various and singular scenes,
led me to witness at this time a spectacle equally terrible
and extraordinary. I have already said that the chateau of
Genlis was surrounded by immense ditches : we had an aged
neighbour, the Countess of Sorel, whose house was also
surrounded with ditches, and whose chateau was situated
upon an elevated ground, so that the ditches belonging to it
* The book was in fact filled, and given to my mother; but after her
death it could not be found. I regretted it much.— (Note by the Author?)

MADAME DE GENLIS. 121
were over ours. The Countess of Sorel, through avarice,
having refused to make some necessary reparations to the
trenches, in spite of the repeated representations of M. de
Genlis, their waters, swelled by the rains, suddenly broke
through the dilapidated dykes, and ran over into our ditches,
which thus overflowed also. Both the Messieurs de Genlis
were hunting, and I was alone at the chateau. Hearing
piercing cries, and a great movement through all the house,
I opened my window, which looked out upon the court-yard ;
what was my horror at seeing that immense court totally
filled with water, which rolled in waves with the sound of
boiling water ; it had already reached the middle of the high
windows of the ground floor. The porter, accompanied
with several of the servants, ran into my chamber, telling
me that I must immediately mount to the garrets, which I
did with great precipitation. The bell was rung, the alarm
was given, and all the village assembled in a moment, in
order to make trenches in the ground to carry off the water,
which, however, swept away several houses which were built
on a causeway on the border of the ditches. The water
ascended from the court up to the first floor ; in the gar
den it rose to the height of eight feet, as might be seen next
day by the marks of clay which it had left on the trees in
the alleys. The gardener had sixty bee-hives, which he
had not time to save; they were carried away and lost.
I saw distinctly from the garret window the whole of this
imposing spectacle. No lives were lost, but the damages
done were tremendous. Madame de Sorel lost all her fish,
which in great part swam into, and remained in our ponds ;
some remained on the ground and in the meadows, and
Were picked up there by the peasants during several days.
Madame de Sorel, besides this loss was obliged to pay
twelve thousand francs as damages to the proprietors of the
houses which were swept away. My brother-in-law, not
withstanding the heritage of her fish, might have also claim
ed damages; and if he had enforced it she would have
been ruined by this accident, which was entirely caused by
.' 16

122 MEMOIRS OF
her own avarice. I have since seen at Hanbury another
inundation. I had witnessed in my childhood, at St. Aubin,
a year before quitting it, a great fire, caused by lightning,
which struck the barns and farm-houses of Sept Fonts, and
consumed them in half an hour. I saw distinctly this great ,
fire, which took place directly opposite the great court of
our chateau, and from which we were only separated by the
Loire. I have seen the lightning fall very near the ponds
of Genlis. At Villers Cobrets one evening, I saw, along
with a hundred other persons, the famous globe of fire
which caused so much terror that year. I saw at St. Leu,
for the second' time in my life, an extraordinary storm of
hail, and at the arsenal, a column of earth thrown up, which
lifted from the ground a young man of fifteen, and threw
him five hundred feet forward without killing him. I have
suffered a storm at sea ; I have seen at Origny a real eclipse
of the sub, and I have witnessed two comets. It was a
sort of practical course of natural history, in which nothing
was wanting but an earthquake and an irruption of Ve
suvius. In the beginning of the autumn, we went to the house of
the Marchioness de Sailly, cousin of M. de Genlis, and
daughter of the Marquis de Souvre, brother of M. de Pui
sieux. The chateau was ten leagues from Genlis, and I
was received with all possible cordiality. , I there^ met M.
de Souvre, whom I had seen in my childhood at Madame
de Bellevau's. He showed me a thousand marks of friend
ship, and greatly contributed to hasten the reconciliation of
M. de Puisieux and M. de Genus. From Sailly, we went
to Fretoy to the countess d'Estourmelle's, another relation
of M- de Genlis, where we met with the same friendly re
ception. But, an hour after my arrival, I met with a very
disagreeable adventure. Madame d'Estourmel]e, then fifty-
seven, had an only son, five years old. The Isaac of this
modern Sarah, was, of all spoiled children, the most in
sufferable I ever met with. Every thing was permitted
him, nothing was refused him; he. was the absolute master

MADAME DE GENUS. 123
of the drawing-room and of the chateau. M. Emmanuel
de Boufflers is the only instance I have since seen to recal
to me this singular kind of education. I arrived at Fretoy
two hours after dinner ; there was a large party from Paris.
I had a cottage bonnet, as it was then styled ; it was quite
• new, covered with beautiful flowers, and fastened on the left
side of the head with a great many pins. I was scarcely
seated, when the terrible tyrant of the chateau came and
snatched out of my hands a superb fan, and broke it in
pieces. Madame d'Estourmelle gave her son a slight re
primand, not for having broken my fan, but for not having
asked me for it politely. An instant after, the child went
and whispered to his mother that he wanted my bonnet.
"Very well, my child," replied Madame d'Estourmelle,
very gravely, " go and ask for it very politely." He imme
diately ran up to me crying, " I want your bonnet." . He
was told that he must not say, " / want ;" and this was
what his mother called "passing over none of his faults."
She then dictated to him his formula of demand ; " Ma
dame, will you have the goodness to lend me your bonnet."
Every one in the room cried out against this fancy, but the
mother and the son persisted. M. de Genlis ridiculed it
with some bitterness, and 1 saw that Madame d'Estourmelle
was about to get angry ; I then rose up, and generously sacri
ficing my pretty bonnet, I went and begged Madame d'Es
tourmelle to unpin it, which she did in great haste, for the
child began to get very-violent and impatient. Madame d'Es
tourmelle embraced me, and praised excessively my mild-.
ness, my complaisance, and my fine hair. She insisted that
I looked a hundred times better without my bonnet, though
my curls were all deranged, and I looked a very ridiculous
figure in full dress, with my hair in disorder. My hat was
delivered to the child, on condition of his not spoiling it.
But in less than ten minutes, the bonnet was torn, crushed,
and rendered unfit ever to be worn again. I took care,
afterward, to dress my hair simply, and to wear neither
bonnet hor flowers. But, unfortunately, this spoiled child

124 • MEMOIRS OF
was grateful for what I had done ; he attached himself to
me with unmeasured violence, and refused to quit my side ;
as soon as I entered the'room, he would place himself on
my knees ; he was very fat and heavy, and not only fatigued
me unmercifully, but crumpled my gowns, and even tore
them by placing upon them loads of playthings. I could
neither speak to any one, nor hear a syllable of any kind of
conversation ; and it was even impossible for me to get rid
of him so long as to play a game at cards. In all my little
journeys I carried my harp with me ; but here, if any one
wished to hear me play, it was impossible, while I sat at the
harp, to prevent the child (who kept continually near it)
from playing also on the bass strings, which formed a very
indifferent accompaniment to my performance. When I
had finished, and any one came to take away my harp, the
child opposed it with the most horrible cries. The harp
was then left, and he played upon it in his own fashion, he
scratched some of the cords, broke others, and soon put the
harp completely out of tune. When any one told Madame
d'Estourmelle, that her child must annoy me excessively,
she would ask me " if that was the case ?" and she pretended
to take my polite negative in its literal sense, adding, that at'
my age one must be charrried to amuse one's self in an in
fantine manner, and that I formed with her son a delicious
group. In fact, the child was not so disagreeable as people
imagined ; not that I loved his Jfthcs, but his person inte
rested and amused me. He wajRpretty, coaxing, and droll,
and he had nothing bad in his disposition. With a tolera
ble education, he might have been easily made a delights
ful child. His poor mother has largely paid the forfeit of
his bad education ; the year following this, the child, for the
first time in his life, had a little fever ; he refused all sorts of
drink, and demanded with violence all kinds of improper
food; a slight indisposition became a serious disease, and
soon a fatal one ; for it was impossible to make him take
medicine of any description, and all attempts of this kind
threw him into fits of passion, that went even to convul-

MADAME DE GENUS. 125
sions. He died at the age of six, though he was naturally
very stout, and of an excellent constitution.
In returning to Genlis by Peronne, my brother-in-law fell
dangerously ill in that town of a putrid fever. M. de Gen
lis immediately called in the most celebrated physician of
the place, who desired to have a consultation with another
physician of Peronne ; and the result of this consultation
was, that the one declared that, if the patient was not bled
within twenty-four hours, his death was certain ; and the
other maintained that bleeding would be fatal. As his bro
ther, and the heir to two hundred thousand francs a-year,
(the estate of Genlis, and the reversion of that of Sillery,)
M. de Genlis was in a terrible predicament. He made up
his mind on the step to be taken without hesitation ; my
brother-in-law had no confidence in any physician but a
German named Weiss ; he was at Paris, but we calculated
that we could have his answer in twenty-four hours. M. de
Genlis, under the dictation of the physicians, wrote an ac
count of the patient's state, and the result of the consulta
tion, and entreated Weiss to come to Peronne, or at least to
send him his opinion. He then ordered one of his servants,
who was the swiftest courier, to take post horses, to hasten
to Paris at full speed, and to return in the same manner.
M. Weiss would not undertake the journey to Peronne, but
he. forwarded an excellent consultation, which expressly
prohibited bleeding. The courier returned in nineteen
hours ; the Marquis de Genlis was saved, and owed his life
to his brother. We remained twenty-two days at Peronne,
at the inn of the Post. I rode out daily ; the ladies of the
neighbouring chateaus sent me fruits, fish, vegetables, and
flowers ; before quitting Peronne, I went to return them
thanks. I ate here excellent pears and peaches. A short
time after our return to Genlis, my brother-in-law, scarce
yet recovered, went to Paris, and M. de Genlis and I pro
ceeded to Arras, where the regiment of French grenadiers
was then stationed. The Count de Guines (afterward
Duke de Guines) had a superb house there, which he lent

126 MEMOIRS OF
for my use. I remained there three weeks, and was much
amused; they gave me charming entertainments. The
officers of the French grenadiers acted to amuse me at the
theatre of the town ; and I was invited to several dress and
masked balls. One of the ensigns, M. de St. P * * *, whom
Ihave since met in society, paid me a great deal of atten
tion ; he seized the occasion of a masked ball to approach
me without being remarked, and assumed the character of a
dumb person; he never quitted me during the evening, say
ing only ha, ha, ha, and pointing to his mouth to make me
understand that he was dumb. I left Arras at two o'clock
in the ihorning, in order to save a deserter, who was to be
shot the same day at ten. The Chevalier de Monchat, ma
jor in the French grenadiers, was much interested about
this unfortunate man; he found means, in concert with M.
de Genlis, without compromising himself, to let him escape
frorii prison, at eleven at night, -and to bring him into our
house, where he was concealed in the closet belonging to
M. de Genlis. The Count of Audick gave me a ball and
supper, during which my mind was continually absent,
and I could think of nothing but our deserter, whom I
dreaded might be retaken. I left the ball at half past twelve.
We had asked permission of the governor of the town to let
us pass at two ; for the gates of a fortified town could not be
opened at that hour without a special order. M. de Genlis
made the deserter put on one of his servant's liveries ; we
set off at half past one ; the -deserter was behind the car
riage. In passing the gates of the town, I felt the blood
freeze in my veins, so great was my sympathy with the situ
ation of the poor deserter. At four leagues from Arras, he
found a horse on the high road ; we stopped, and he came
to the carriage door to return his 'thanks ; I wept with joy
at having saved him ! M. de Genlis desired me to salute
him, which I did most readily. To have contributed to
save the life of a fellow-creature is a happiness which is
never to be forgotten.

MADAME DE GENLIS. 127
On arriving at Genlis, letters from Paris informed us that
my brother-in-law had relapsed into a dangerous illness.
M. de Genlis proceeded immediately to Paris. He pro
mised to write to me, but two posts came without bringing
me any intelligence. I then told M. Blanchard that I was
very uneasy, and that I was determined to go to Paris. All
the carriages were gone, and there only remained a little
hunting cart, much broken and in bad condition, and which
besides was in use at the chateau. I promised only to take
it as far as Noyon, (four leagues from Genlis,) saying that I
hoped to find in that town a conveyance to hire. M.
Blanchard gave me ten louis for my journey, and I set off
immediately with Mademoiselle Victoire, and a servant on
horseback. The fact is, that it was much less through un
easiness than a desire to go to Paris, that I undertook this
journey. I did not, in reality, expect to find any convey
ance at, Noyon, but I was determined to go from thence on
horseback to Paris, and for that purpose I put on a riding
habit and. petticoat, which I proposed to quit on arriving at
Noyon. On reaching Noyon, at four in the afternoon, in
the month of November, the postmaster told me there were
no coaches, at which I was secretly delighted. I demand
ed three post horses, one for myself, one for my servant, and
one for my maid. At this demand Mademoiselle Victoire burst
out into a laugh, supposing that I asked the horses in jest ;
but I assured her, in a tone so decided, that I was in earnest,
at least for my own part, that she could no longer doubt it ;
she seemed stupified by the news. I told her, however, that
she might take her choice about accompanying me, but that
I was determined to go in this manner. She had been on
horseback at parties of pleasure several times, and had been
constantly accustomed tq ride on an ass ; she was strong and
courageous, and I had little difficulty in persuading her that
she would make an admirable horsewoman. Lemire, my
servant, who was the most serious and the least thinking per
son in the world, proposed two things, to which I consented ;
the one was to lend Mademoiselle Victoire a pair of breeches

128 MEMOIRS OF
and a great coat, that she might ride, as he said, decefit^
the other that I should wear horsemen's boots. He lent me
his; but as they were far too large, he filled up the legs
with straw very adroitly ; then^ transported with joy, while
Mademoiselle Victoire was dressing, I sent for the postmas
ter arid acquainted him with my intention ; the man, who
was exceedingly attached to M. de Genlis, was alarmed at
this resolution ; and, in order to give it a colour, I assured
him that an affair of the utmost consequence called me to
Paris, and I begged him to let the horses be saddled without
delay ; he told me that he was going to find an excellent one
for me, but that it was not in the house. He searched
throughout the town to find me a carriage, and to my great
vexation he at' last found one, but which had neither win
dows nor curtains in front. I regretted my large boots, and
the glory of riding twenty-five leagues on horseback. Ma
demoiselle Victoire remained in her male dress ;. I took off
my petticoat, and we travelled thus all night. At each post
where we got out, I Was delighted at being taken always for
a man, and I asked always for ham, in order to make the maid
servants, get up, to whom I talked all sorts of nonsense. Ma-
demoiselle Victoire was not in particularly good humour ; it
rained in torrents, and she had no hat ; I wrapped up her head
in a red silk handkerchief. At the first post she got out along
with me to warm herself; and, in order to imitate me, she
chucked one of the maids under the chin, who bluntly said,
" You are too ugly." Yet Mademoiselle Victoire was
rather handsome : but the dye of the silk handkerchief had
come off^ upon her face, and had given her skin a scarlet
colour, Which rendered her quite frightful.
M. de Genlis was strangely surprised on my arrival ; his
brother was out of danger, but still required his attentions,
and it was decided that we should remain six weeks at Pa-
•ris. I saw there my mother, Madame de Montesson, Ma-
, dame de Boulainvillien, the cousin of M. de Genlis, and
the Marchioness of Saint Chamant, sister of Madame de
Sillery. I went also to a dress-ball given by the Spanish

MADAME DE GENLIS. 129
ambassador. But Madame de Puisieux and her daughter,
the Marechale d'Etree, still unreconciled to M. de Genlis,
persisted in refusing to receive us. In five weeks my bro
ther-in-law was entirely recovered, and began to negociate
his marriage with Mademoiselle de VilmeUr, an orphan and
rich, the niece of the Chevalier Courten, a Swiss, of whose
fortune she was the heiress. We went from time to time
to sup at the house of my aunt de .Sarcey, who still lived
in the Rue de Rohan. One evening as my husband, my
brother, and I, were returning home at half past twelve with
hired horses, "and as we were going slowly up the Rue dea
fosses M. le Prince, a man came and threw himself before
the carriage, crying, that the coachman had thrown him
down, which was false and impossible ; he stopped the
coachman, and loaded him with abuse, and immediately
three men came out from an alley and joined him. At this
sight our two servants took flight, and M. de Genlis, drawing
his sword, sprung out of the carriage, desiring his brother to
remain with me ; but I entreated the Marquis to go to the as
sistance of his brother, and seeing him hesitate, 1 leaped out
of the coach, crying to M. de Genlis, " Let no blood be shed
— do not strike with the point !" My greatest terror was, that
this affray should end in becoming a bloody combat. My
brother-in-law drew his sword also ; and the robbers fled.
If I had been alone in the coach I must have been robbed.
This adventure, which M. de Genlis loved to repeat, height
ened my character for courage, which was already celebra
ted by my exploits on horseback.
We returned to Genlis to pass the rest of the winter ; and
I left it five months gone with child, in the beginning of
spring, when we returned to Paris to celebrate the marriage
of my brother-in-law. He married Mademoiselle de Vil-
meur, who was then fifteen ; the Marquis de Puisieux con
sented to give away the bride, and my brother-in-law deter
mined that I should stand in the place of her mother, which
was singula* enough, not only because I was but three years
and a half older than the bride, but because it was necessary
17

130" MEMOIRS OF
I should, on that occasion, meet for the first time the head
of a family, which had till then treated me with so much
rigour. He had to lead me into the church, which he did
in a very handsome manner ; he was very elegantly dressed,
with his blue ribbon passed over his coat ; he appeared to
me equally dazzling and terrible. As he gave me his
hand, he perceived that 1 trembled; "You are cold, Ma
dam," said he ; to which I. ingenuously replied, " It is not
with cold that I tremble." He has since told me that, the
tone in which I pronounced these words, affected him almost
to tears. The nuptial, dinner was celebrated with great
magnificence in the country, at the planchette, the seat of
the Chevalier Courten ; almost all the family was present.
Madame de Puisieux, her daughter, the Marechale d'Etree,
the Princess of Benting, Monsieur and Madame de Noail
les, the Duke of Harcourt, and several others. My friends,
M. and Madame de Balincour, and Madame de Sailly were
not there, nor M. de Souvre ; I regretted their absence
much. I was treated with great politeness, but coldly,
by all the ladies ; I maintained a profound silence. They
were all extremely occupied with my sister-in-law, and
praised her beauty, Madame de Puisieux and the Ma
rechale caressed her excessively. I thought I observed that
there was a little affectation in all this ; and this belief soon
removed my timidity. Always, when any one has had an
intention of affronting me, a feeling of honest pride has eleva
ted me constantly above the insult intended to be offered, by
inspiring me with a perfect indifference to it. There hap
pened at this marriage an incident which has been much talk
ed of, and on which has been founded an anecdote, entirely
false, which I have seen printed in many shapes. The
Count d'Herouville was the relation and friend of the Che
valier Courten ; he had received a card of invitation, but for
himself only. He had been married ten years to the famous
Lolotte, who had conducted herself extremely well since her
marriage, but who was visited by none of her own sex. She
was then thirty-six years of age, and was still very hand
some, and very agreeable ; she had a great deal of wit, and

MADAME DE GENLIS. 13 j
her manners were charming. The Count d'Herouville was
foolish enough to bring her along with him ; he would have
acted more wisely in not coming himself, since his wife was
not invited. She was very rudely received, except by the
Chevalier Courten, and Messieurs de Genlis ; and during
dinner many stinging things were said, of which she could
not fail to make the application to herself. Nothing ever
distressed me more ; she behaved with great propriety.
After dinner, my sister-in-law offered her, as well as the
other ladies, a bag and a fan, and saluted her. At this ac
tion, which was indispensable, two ladies shrugged their
shoulders, and the others showed their astonishment in their
faces. All the men then declared for the fair sufferer, and
from that moment paid her marked attention. The other
women were in turn offended, and the whole scene was very
singular. The Chevalier Courten was in torture, as well
as M. d'Herouville, who went away early. As soon as he
had quitted the room with his wife, M. de Genlis cried out,
" what a beautiful woman Madame d'Herouville is !" All
the other gentlemen then began to eulogize her; every one
felt a desire to avenge the treatment she had received.
Next day it was said throughout Paris, that at the.rrioment
Madame d'Herouville arrived, the lap-dog of Madame de
Puisieux, called Lolotte, having come into the room, Ma
dame de Puisieux said aloud, "Go along, Lolotte,. you are
not fit to come among goqd company." This is absolutely
false ; Madame de Puisieux did not bring her dog with her,
and nothing of the kind was ever said.
All the company remained till eleven o'clock at night.
The new-married couple, M. de Genlis, and I, passed six
days at the house. This short time was sufficient to make
me contract a great friendship for my sister-in-law. She
was handsome, and her face would have been faultless, but
for an unfortunate laugh, which showed teeth by no means
beautiful, and gums which were always swelled ; but when
she did not laugh hei' face was beautiful, and its expression
agreeable, which made M. de Villepaton say of her. that,

132 MEMOIRS OF
" seriously speaking, she was extremely pretty." Her edu
cation had been much neglected'; but she was never idle ;
she loved work, embroidered to perfection, and was as dex
terous as a fairy. She was very, violent aridcontradictory
in her humour, and had the obstinacy of a child, but at bot
tom, she was goodnatured, obliging, ingenuous, and very-
lively. We never had the slightest dispute; and I was
delighted to have a companion so amiable and so young.
The Chevalier Courten, the master of the house, and,
uncle of my sister-in-law, was a witty and agreeable • old
gentleman of seventy-seven. He had served with much
distinction in the army, and in various negociations ; he had
seen many things, and related them with a charm peculiar
to himself. I have never found in any one of his age, more
gayety, mildness, strength of memory, and pleasantness of
manner. He joined to a great acquaintance with society,
and the. tone of the French court, great simplicity, and a
sort of naivete, which seemed to belong to the manners of
Switzerland, his native country ; and this gave to his conver
sation and to his wit an air of youth and originality, which
rendered him the most interesting and amiable of all possi
ble old men. N
On quitting La Planchette, we all returned to. Genlis.
My brother passed that year at Genlis. He had just been
received into the engineers, and had undergone his exami-'
nation in Bezout, with the utmost credit to himself; in fact,
he showed a decided genius for the 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 my humour exactly. One evening, when there was
company at the chateau, and while my sister-in-law and ¦
Messieurs de Genlis were playing, after supper, at reversis,
my brother proposed to fne a walk in the court which was
spacious, covered with sand, and planted all round with
flowers, to which I consented. When we reached the court,
he expressed a wish to take a walk in the village. I was
as willing as he. It was ten o'clock ; all the public houses

MADAME DE GENLIS. 133
were lighted; and we saw through the windows peasants
drinking cider. I observed with surprise that they all wore
a very grave air.
My brother was seized with a fit of frolicsome gayety,
and he knocked at a window, crying out, " Good people, do
you sell any sacre chien /"' and after this exploit, he dragged
me after him, as he ran into a little dark street, where vce
both hid .ourselves, ready to die with laughter. Our de
light was increased by hearing the tavern-keeper, at the
door of his house, threatening, " to cudgel the little black
guards" who had knocked at his window. My brother ex-
explained to me that sacre chien meant brandy. I thought
all this so pleasant, that 1 insisted on going to another little
tavern adjoining, to make the same polite inquiry, which
met with the same success ; we repeated several times that
agreeable pastime, trying which of us should say, " sacre
chien," and ending by shouting it together, and every time
running off to hide ourselves in the little street, where we
burst into fits of laughter till we could hardly stand. Hap
py age ! at which we are so easily transported with gayety ;
when nothing has yet exalted the imagination or troubled
the heart !
My brother remained six weeks with us. M. de Genlis,
with much kindness, made him a present of every thing
which could be useful or agreeable to him in a garrison in
which he was to remain a long time. He went to Mezieres ;
we promised to write regularly to each other ; and we both
kept our word.
M. de Genlis returned to Paris in the month of August,
and went to live in a pretty house with a garden in the
Culde-sac Skint Dominique, of which my brother-in-law
had hired the ground floor, and we the first. There I
awaited the time of my accouchement. The idea that I was
about to become a mother rendered me much more staid.
I had commenced, several months before, a work which I
entitled Reflections of a Mother twenty years of age, though
I was then but nineteen. This work, which I lost twenty-

134 MEMOIRS OF
five years after, with so many other manuscripts, had
nothing romantic in it ; I afterward extracted from it many
thoughts and ideas which I transferred to Ad,ele and Theo
dore. I continued tp read history with great application ;
and for my recreation, I occasionally read poetry and plays.
I undertook, at this time, the reading of the voluminous
voyages edited by the Abbe Prevost; and I read them
all through without missing a line, even of the double nar
rations. On the 4th of September I Was brought to bed of my dear
Caroline, that angelic creature, who was for twenty-two
years my happiness and my pride, and whose irreparable
loss has caused me the deepest sorrow, and has been the
greatest misfortune of my life. She was born beautiful as
an angels and that enchanting face of hers was, from her
cradle to her tomb, the most faultless the world ever saw.
I did not suckle her, for it was not then the fashion ; be
sides, I could not have done so in my situation, as we were
always obliged to pay visits and undertake little journeys.
She was nursed at two short leagues from Genlis, at a vil
lage called Comanchon. How many sentiments till then
unknown, sprung up in my breast, with the blessing of being
a mother ! How I loved my child ! how dear life became
to me ! and with what an anxious interest I cast my eyes to
the future, to which my thoughts had never before turned !
I discovered in my child a new existence, a thousand times
preferable to my own.
Nine days after my confinement, the Marechale d'Etree
came to see me, and, brought me as a present some very
fine Indian stuffs. tShe assured me that her father and mo
ther would receive me with pleasure, and that Madame de
Puisieux Would present me at court as soon as I should be
able to leave my room. In five weeks after I went to pay
a visit to Madame de Puisieux, whom I dreaded extremely ;
and, as during my whole life I have never made advances to
any one who has treated me with coldness or indifference,
I was very silent and cold in my turn. I did not make a

MADAME DE GENLIS. 13g
very favourable impression on her at this interview. Eight
days after, she carried me to Versailles ; and, to complete
the- tortures of the journey, it was tete-a-tete with her in
her own carriage. She talked to me of nothing but the
manner in which my head was to be dressed, advising me,
with a critical air, not to wear my hair so high as I usually
did, assuring me, that it would be very disagreeable to the
princesses and the old queen. I replied merely, " It is
enough, madam, that it is displeasing to you." This an
swer appeared to be agreeable to her ; but immediately after
I relapsed into my former silence ; and I saw that it annoyed
her extremely. At Versailles, we resided in the splendid
apartments of the Marshal d'Etree ; I was delighted with
the marshal ; I looked upon him with a lively interest ; I
knew that he had achieved numerous victories in the field,
and that he was one of the wisest statesmen at the council-
board. He joined to his honours the most unaffected simpli
city and perfect goodness of heart. Mesdames de Puisieux
and d'Etree really persecuted me the day following, which
was that of my presentation ; they made me dress my head
three different times, and fixed upon the mode which became
me the least, and which was the most Gothic of them all.
They obliged me to wear a great deal of rouge and powder,
two things which I detested ; they insisted on my wearing my
full dress body for dinner, in order, as they said, to accustom
me to it; these bodies left the shoulders uncovered, cut
the arms, and were horribly tight ; besides this, in order to
show my shape, they made me lace myself till I could
scarcely suffer the pressure. ,
The mother and daughter had next a bitter dispute on
the subject of my ruff, and on the manner in which it should
be fastened; they were seated, and I was standing up quite
worn out, and provoked during their debate. The ruff was
fastened on and taken off at least four times; at last the
marechale carried the day by the decision of her three
waiting maids, which gave great offence to Madame de Pui
sieux. I was so exhausted that I could scarcely support my-

136 MEMOIRS OF
self when I had to go to dinner. I was allowed to go with
out my large hoop, though the ladies had at one time thought
of making me wear that too in order to accustom me to it.
When the marshal saw me, he cried out, " She is far too
much powdered and rouged; she was a hundred times hand
somer yesterday." Madame de Puisieux appealed to him
about my ruff, which he approved of; and all dinner time
nothing was discussed but my dress. I ate almost nothing,
for I was so tight laced that I could hardly breathe. On
quitting the table, the marshal passed into his closet, and I
was left to Madame de Puisieux and the marechale, who
made me finish my toilette, that is to say, put on my hoop
and my train, then rehearse my curtsies, for which I' had
taken a master ; it was Gardel, who at that time taught the
court. The ladies were extremely well pleased with my
performance ; but Madame de Puisieux forbade me to push
back the train of my gown by sliding my foot gently under
it, as I withdrew backwards, saying that it had a theatrical
air. I represented to her that if I did not push back my
long train, my feet would get embarrassed in it, and that I
should fall down ; she only repeated, in a dry and imperious
tone, that it was theatrical, to which I replied not a word.
Afterward the ladies began to dress themselves, and I availed
myself of this to remove adroitly some of my rouge, but
unfortunately, just as we were setting out, Madame de Pui
sieux perceived it, and said, " Your rouge is come off, but
I shall put on more ; " and taking from her pocket a patch-
box, she plastered my face With rouge more deeply than be
fore. My presentation went off very well, and the day was
well-chosen, as a great many ladies were 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 tome 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 bre
vity of expression, in which there was nothing harsh or dis-

MADAME DE GENUS. J 37
obliging; in short, there was about his whole person some
thing 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 exa
mination 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 educa
tion may confer but to a certain degree- Brutal or contemptu
ous manners produce the hatred of their subjects ; if they
have a gloomy or anxious air they inspire mistrust and dread ;
if they have a mean or ridiculous appearance, they are des
pised — especially in France, where the lowest individuals
of the populace have the finestand truest tact for seizing
all the shades which express by the tone, the gestures, or
the look, the various emotions of the mind.
The Dauphin, the son of Louis XV., was just dead, and
the court was in deep mourning. I was presented to the
old queen, the daughter of Stanislaus, king of Poland ; that
princess, already attacked with the disease (a decline) of
which she died fifteen or eighteen months after, was reclin
ing on a sofa. I was much struck at seeing her wear a lace
night-cap, with large diamond ear-rings. She interested
me extremely because it was said to be. the death of her son
which was carrying her to the tomb. She was a charming
old woman ; she had still a very pretty face, and a ravishing
smile. She was gracious and obliging, and the soft tone of
her voice, which had a langour in it, went directly to the
heart. Her whole conduct had ever been distinguished by
irreproachable purity ; she was pious, good, and charitable ;
she loved literature, and was a discriminating patroness of
men of letters. She had great quickness of talent; and
many exquisite sayings of hers have been quoted. I was
afterward presented to the princesses, and to the rest of the
18

138 MEMOIRS OF
royal family ; and in the evening I went to the card room of
the princesses. I was also introduced to Madame de Ci
vrac,* the maid of honour to the Princess Victoire. Her
husband was under great obligations to M. de Puisieux, who
had caused him to be appointed ambassador to Vienna,
where he then was. Madame de Civrac was delightful,
from her frankness and her goodnature. In spite of ex
treme timidity, I soon found myself at my ease with her ;
and I cultivated her friendship up to the period of her death.
A few days after my presentation we returned to Genfis. I
there passed the summer very agreeably ; we acted plays at
the theatre, decorated by the Chevalier Don Tirmane,
where we had already played several pieces. In the course
of that summer we acted Namne, The Precieuses Ridicules,
The Mechant, and The Comtesse d,Escarbagnas ; the best
performers were Monsieur de Genlis and myself; my sister-
in-law, notwithstanding all my lessons, could not act well,
but she made no pretension to this kind of talent. We had
the neighbours and the peasants for audience. The senti
mental scene of gratitude with Nanine and her father, pro
duced shouts of laughter when the spectators discovered
in the person of Philippe Humbert, one of our neighbours
of thirty-five or thirty-six years of age, whose white wig,
which he had assumed to give him the appearance of an old
man, seemed to them the most comical thing in the world.
M. le Pelletier de Morfontaine, the superintendant of Sois
sons, came to our performances. I had just then heard of
the institution of the Rosiere of Salency ;t I spoke of it
with enthusiasm to M. de Morfontaine, and it was decided
* This is not the lady whom 1 have mentioned at the beginning of these
memoirs; the husband of the above was Civrac de Durfort, father of the
Duke of Lorges, and of Madame de Donnisan, who, as well as her daugh
ter, played so conspicuous a part in La Vendue during the revolution. —
(Note by the Author.)
t In some parts of France, the girl who is most remarkable in the village
for hesjgood conduct and modesty, is presented by the judge of the district
with a rose, and is thence called Rosiere. — (Translator.)

MADAME DE GENLIS. 139
that we should go to Salency to crown the Rosiere. I pre
sented the Rosiere with a dress and a cow, and M. de Mor
fontaine gave her an annuity for life. He had sent for
musicians, and gave a very charming ball in a barn, beau
tifully decorated with coloured lamps, leaves, and garlands
of roses. Messieurs de Sauvigny, Feutry, and de Genlis,
wrote some pretty couplets upon the fete ; those of M. de
Genlis were sent to Paris, where they were found so agree
able, that they were inserted in the Mercury. There was
one of them which was addressed to me ; and I confess that
when I saw it in print, I was much more flattered than when
I heard it sung in the barn of Salency.
As M. de Genlis had caused my "harp to be carried to Sa
lency, I played on it in the barn before the ball, which pro
duced among the worthy inhabitants of Salency, and its mu
sicians, an inexpressible enthusiasm. M. Feutry wrote, on
this occasion, the following couplet, which I only quote, be
cause it was really an impromptu :
Scr l'aib. : De tous les capucins du monde.
Genlis, votre harpe magique
Efface l'instrument antique
Dont on nous vante les succes.
Par lui Saul vit disparoitre
Et ses transports et ses acc^s,
Et vous en faites ici naitre.
In consideration of the song, the fete, and the appropri
ateness of the time chosen.for the compliment, I forgave M.
Feutry that eternal comparison about Saul and David, which
caused me in general so much annoyance. There are mo
ments when every thing pleases; we should seize them
when we may. All which belongs to that day's amusement
has left behind it a delicious recollection, on which I love to
dwell! M. de Sauvigny wrote a poem in prose, called the Rosiere
of Salency, which he dedicated to me; afterward I wrote
a comedy on the same subject, which is to be found in my

140 MEMOIRS OF
Theatre of Education. Seven or eight years afterward, the
Rosiere of Salency had a lawsuit with the lord of the ma
nor, who unreasonably refused to give his hand to lead the
Rosiere to church, and furnish the crown of roses and the
blue sash, in memory of that which Louis XIII., when at.
Varennes, near Salency, sent to the Rosiere by a captain of
his guards. The virtuous prior of Salency made a journey
to Paris about this absurd lawsuit ; he called upon me and
related the story ; upon which I wrote a memorial, which I
gave the prior ; this memorial was presented to the council,
and the Rosieres gained their plea. The memorial was
written in the name of the prior; he presented it to the
queen, who interested hSrself warmly in the affair. In gra
titude for what M. de Morfontaine had done for the Rosi
eres I promised to go and visit him at Soissons ; I went there
with M. de Genlis ; and we passed a fortnight at the house
of M. de Morfontaine, amidst a constant round of entertain
ments. I saw there, for the first time, Dorat, with whom I
was extremely taken, not because he wrote beautiful verses
about me, but because he had, in reality, agreeable and ele
gant manners, and because he spoke sensibly, the rarest
thing in the world among men of wit. M. de Morfontaine
did a great deal of good among the persons under his ma
nagement : Ms sentiments were generous, he was a man of
talent, he was polite, and magnificent ; he loved the arts, and
persons of ability ; but he had the mania of making verses,
and the misfortune always to compose bad ones.
From Soissons we returned to Genlis, where I recom
menced my occupations with fresh ardour. As Messieurs
de Genlis went almost daily on shooting parties, my sister-
in-law and I were often alone : we went constantly to Co
manchon to see my dear little Caroline ; my sister-in-law in
a cabriolet, and I on horseback. My sister-in-law did not
prove enceinte, and so far from being jealous of my having
a charming infant, she was fond of my Caroline even to
folly ; a sentiment which, she has always preserved, and
which of itself, would have been sufficient to attach me to

MADAME DE GENLIS. 141
her. When we were alone at the chateau, which often
happened, we both worked at embroidery ; and the steward
M. Blanchard, read to us aloud. He read to us in this way
a part of the Roman History of Laurent Echard, and the
Spectacle de la Nature of Pluche, which began to give rne a taste
for natural history. I made a little girl gather for me all the
insects that she found in the fields. She brought us a large
box, which we unluckily opened in my bed-room, and out
of it crawled enormous spiders, large earth-worms, frogs,
toads, &c. At the sight of these monsters, we took flight,
extremely discouraged in our pursuit of the study of natu
ral history. For more than a fortnight, though great pains
had been taken to remove all these insects from my room,
I still found some now and then ; however we continued the
reading of the Spectacle de la Nature. M. Blanchard next read
to us the Theatre of Fagan, an ingenious and witty author,
whose comedies pleased us exceedingly. Besides these
readings aloud, I read in my room, while they combed my
long hair, which was a long operation, and while my head was
dressing, the Ancient History of Rollin, the lively comedies
of Dufresny, and afterward those of Marivaux, for the se
cond time. I confess that I was excessively fond of that
author ; he was perfectly acquainted with the secrets of the
female heart, and he has unfolded them with a delicacy and
a grace which are to be found in no other male author. He
is inimitable when he paints the caprices, the inconsisten
cies, and the violence of a woman agitated by vexations
arising out of a little affection and a great deal of self-love ¦
this was all he knew, but he knew it well. Nevertheless
Moliere, who has observed every thing, has depicted some
thing of the same sort in his Princesse Elide, which is also
a surprise of affection. The style of Marivaux is often full
of mannerism ; but by a dexterity of wit, which was pecu
liar to him, it becomes not so much affectation as originality ;
and often, also, in his dialogue, which is always ingenious
and sparkling, there are charming touches, at once fine, na
tural, and full of a certain piquant ingenuousness. Ten years

142 MEMOIRS OF
after the period to which I allude, I was no longer the same
passionate admirer of Marivaux that I then was ; I thought
he had spoiled a great number of writers ; but I thought him
then, and I think him still, an author far above mediocrity.
He has admirably caught the most delicate shades of vari
ous sentiments and various habits, and in the art of observing
things, and in depicting them well he has infinitely surpassed
Sterne, and many authors who have been since admired,
both in France and in England. Without mentioning the
comedies of Marivaux, we may safely assert that in his no
vels — his Mariane and his Paysan Parvenu, there are many
scenes far superior to any parts, even the best, of the Sen
timental Journey.
I had still preserved: jny taste for teaching, and I exerted
it for the benefit of a little girl Called Rose, daughter of the
dairy-maid of the chateau : I took her into my service, and
as she seemed to have a taste for music, I taught her to
play upon the harp ; but my instrument was enormously
large, and in the course of six months I perceived that my
pupil was becoming humpbacked: I therefore renounced
my plan of giving her this accomplishment ; and I ordered
for her from Paris a pair of whalebone stays, with a little
plate of lead placed on the side of the shoulder which threat
ened to be crooked. In three months her shape was per
fectly restored, and even became in the end very handsome.
I also gave my sister-in-law lessons of singing ; but she had
no voice : I was more fortunate in giving her lessons of spell
ing, with which she was but indifferently acquainted : I
taught her orthography completely in three months. On
her side, she taught me to embroider, an art in all its branch
es of which she excelled ; in her it was a real talent, and I
have never been able to come near the perfection of her
work ; she was also very skilful in working tapestry. She
had nothing of what is called wit ; she did not say fine things ;
but she was far from being stupid : she had even naturally
a very fair capacity ; for example, she calculated, for her
age, in a remarkable manner, and with a facility to which I

MADAME DE GENLIS. I43
could never attain ; and in the end she showed very great
intelligence in matters of business. She had naturally a
very good disposition ; without any other defects than a child
ishness, which led her to be somewhat obstinate and contra
dictory. At the same time, she took an iaterest, and with
warmth, in every thing in which others were interested,
whether it was a serious matter, or a frolic of gayety. Our
readings interested her deeply, at the same time if I propo
sed to her a school girl's frolic, she would join in it with all
her heart. There was at Genlis the largest bathing machine
I ever saw : four people could easily have bathed in it. One
day 1 proposed to my sister-in-law, that we should both
bathe ourselves in it in milk, and that we should go into the
neighbourhood, and buy all the farmers' milk. We dressed
ourselves in the disguise of peasant girls, and mounted on
asses, led by John the carman, my first riding master; we
left Genlis at six in the morning, and went to the distance
of two leagues all round to bespeak all the milk at the little
farm-houses, desiring them to bring it next morning to the
chateau of Genlis. In the cottages where we were afraid
of being recognized, we waited for John at a little distance,
and entered into all the others. We took a milk bath,
which is the most delightful thing in the world 5 we had
caused the surface of the bath to be strewed over with rose
leaves, and we remained two hours in that charming bath.
I composed at this time a little novel, entitled," " The
Dangers of Celebrity :" four or five years after I lost the
manuscript : the idea of it was moral, but, as far as I can
remember it, the novel was tiresome.
I had been very happy at Genlis, especially from the time
of my brother-in-law's marriage ; but my brother insisted
upon paying him a small annual sum ; and I could not have
been more absolute mistress, if the chateau had been my
own, thanks to the attentions of my brother-in-law and his
wife. My sister-in-law at an age when a young woman
loves to act the mistress of the house, had nothing of that
passion : she desired, with all the kindness of a good dispo-

144 MEMOIRS OF
sition, that I should command in her chateau as freely as
herself; she never suffered the servants, in speaking of her,
to call her merely Madame ; she made them mention her
by her title, and me by mine. These are little matters, but
they deserve to be mentioned ; for they are proofs of noble
and delicate sentiments. My sister-in-law had religious
principles, and a taste for occupation ; she was incapable of
envy or malice ; with a very handsome face she was not a
coquette ; she sincerely loved her husband ; and she wanted
nothing to make her a person of merit and of exemplary
conduct, but a more moral and faithful husband.
I constantly practised medicine at Genlis, with my TXssot
in my hand, and in concert with M. Racine, the village
barber, who always came gravely to consult me when he had
any patients. We went to visit them together; all my
prescriptions were confined to simple drinks, and to broth,
which I regularly sent from the chateau. My practice
served at least to moderate M. Racine's rage for emetics,
which he prescribed for almost all kinds of diseases. I was
perfect in the art of bleeding ; the peasants often came to
beg me to let blood of them ; but when it became known
that I always gave them twenty-four or thirty sous after
bleeding, I had very soon a great number of patients, who
were attracted, 1 began to suspect, by the thirty sous. I
then ceased to bleed, but by the prescription of M. Mil-
lett, the surgeon of La Fere, who came to Genlis every
eight or ten days.
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 are equal to twenty thousand
at present ; 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.

MADAME DE GENLIS. 145
One morning, when sitting alone in my rOom, I was told
that a pretty young women belonging to Sissy wished to
speak with me. I desired her to be brought in, and I saw
in reality, a young country girl of sixteen, beautiful as an
angeL She threw herself in tears at my feet, but refused
to explain what she wanted. I lifted her up, and kissed her
with a tenderness which gave her confidence, and she then
confessed that she had been seduced by our gamekeeper,
who was forty-five years old, and who had promised to
marry her ; that she was with child, and that he now refused
to keep his word because she had nothing ; and she added
with sobs, " I have now nothing to do, but to throw myself
into the river !" i consoled her as well as I could, and made
her remain at the chateau. 1 went and related the history
to my sister-in-law, and we both spoke about it to my hus
band, who, in , his anger, wished to discharge his game
keeper. We made him perceive that this would be the
ruin of the poor girl, and it was finally agreed that he should
give her a marriage-portion; that I should give her the
bride-clothes and a little outfit ; that my sister-in-law should
give her a lace cap and a gold cross, and my brother-in-
law three pair of coarse sheets. M. de Genlis immediately
sent for his gamekeeper, who was quite unprepared 
We were curious, my sister-in-law and I, to see the sedu
cer. He appeared to us very old, but he was tall ; he had
a good air, and wore a green dress laced with silver ; he
had also a military look, which was sufficient to give him an
advantage over all the youths of the village. M. de Gen
lis, on seeing him, felt his anger rise, and without any pre
amble, he bluntly addressed him thus, — " You are a scoun
drel. ... I give you three hundred francs and a cow. . . ."
This singular opening gave us a great inclination to laugh ;
the gamekeeper grew pale with surprise, fear, and joy ;
and when the affair was explained to him, and all that had
been done for the girl, he appeared in an ecstasy of pleasure.
I have never seen any thing more touching than the grati
tude and the joy of the poor girl. M. de Genlis sent them
19

146 MEMOIRS OF
back to Sissy, to have the banns published, .and fixed their
marriage-day at three weeks fronrthence, promising to come
with me to the nuptials, which we did. On the day ap
pointed, we quitted Genlis on horseback, at daybreak ; on
arriving at Sissy, we were received by a cavalcade, which
came to meet us, composed of the notables, of the village ;
and they almost killed me by firing in honour of me a. gun
which was over-charged. The discharge threw me back
wards, but luckily the gun did not burst. I was not wound
ed however, and the accident did not prevent me from
dancing at the wedding. We did not return to Genlis till
night had completely set in.
". The Chevalier de Barbantane came to Genlis this 'y ear;
he was the brother of the Marquis of Barbantane, of the Pa
lais Royal, and was as amiable as his brother was disagreea
ble. To a great deal of wit,' he joined a frank and rallying
gayety, a delightful manner of telling a story, and a most
estimable disposition. His sallies, always lively and plea
sant, contrasted singularly with his grave and stately air,
and with his features, which had something severe about
them. He was then thirty-six or thirty-seven. He was a
great lover of music ; my harp enchanted him, and this
commenced between us a friendship which lasted up to the
revolution. About the second or third of August, M. de Genlis and I
went to Rheims, on a visit to my grandmother, the Marchio
ness of Dromenil, who knowing that M. de Genlis was recon
ciled with M. and Madame de Puisieux, consented at last to
receive' us. Madame de Puisieux was this year at Vaud
reuil, at the house of the president Portail, so that we did
not go to Sillery. Madame de Dromenil had acquainted
her grandson, in her letter, that she could not let us stay
with her longer than a week. I met the respectable grand
mother of my husband with equal tenderness and respect ;
she was ei^riy-seven years of age, extremely small, but per
fectly well proportioned ; her little hands and feet seemed to
belong to a qhild of six ; her features equally delicate ; and

MADAME DE GENUS. - 147
her mouth so small, that she had a spoon, knife and fork
for her own peculiar use : all the articles of furniture she
used were made on purpose for her ; she had her little tongs,
her little arm-chair, her high chair on which she sat at
table ; and the sweet little tones of her voice, were suited to
this interesting miniature. She had once been very pretty
and she still preserved a very sweet and good-humoured phy
siognomy. She was not deaf; her sight was good ; she walked
well, and had no kind of infirmity, her memory was excel
lent ; she was lively ; she had a delicate and agreeable kind of
wit, and an admirable heart. She looked to me like a good
and beneficent fairy ; on seeing me she rose up, and stretched
out her arms to me ; I was touched with the tenderest emo
tions ; 1 ran towards her, and, to receive her embrace, I
knelt upon my knees, and, in that position, I reached her
head ; she embraced me several times ; and then, turning
towards M. de Genlis, she said, "My dear grandson, you
have made a good choice ; she is charming." I soon found
myself at my ease with her. I sat down by her, and held her
little hands in mine; I caressed her with the same feeling
as if I was caressing an infant, mingled with the veneration
which such an age inspires. After dinner my harp was
unpacked, and I played upon it as much as she pleased.
She had received on a visit, the year preceding, her two grand
daughters, Mesdames de Belzance and de Noailles, daugh
ters of the Marquis of Dromenil, brother of the late Mar
chioness of Genlis, my mother-in-law ; she told me that I
was infinitely more agreeable to her than those ladies : yet
Madame de Belzance, who died very soon after of consump
tion, was lovely as an angel, and mild and charming in her
maimers and disposition. In the evening, Madame de Dro
menil made me the same present she had made to her two
grand-daughters ;, she gave me one hundred louis in a beau
tiful purse, which 1 received with pleasure, in order to give
them to M. de Genlis. She became so much attached to
me that, in place of a week, she kept me with her two months,
which I passed very agreeably. Madame de Dromenil receiv-

148 MEMOIRS OF
ed at her house all the best society of Rheims, among whom
I found many agreeable persons ; she was also visited by many
of the canons of the cathedral ; and as she was very proud
of my talent for the harp, she made me play what she called
a little air at each visit. I was at several balls given in the
town ; and Madame de Dromenil gave two at her own house.
Almost every morning she carried me to the promenade in
the public walk ; she rode in her carriage, and I on horseback ;
I kept by the door of the coach, and talked quantities of
nonsense to her, which made her laugh till the tears came
into her eyes ; all the childishness which I had naturally in
my disposition seemed charming to her. Often at her own
house I took her in my arms, and carried her like a child
into my room, and through all the house, for she was as light
as a feather ; all that I did pleased and enlivened her. She
showed me everything interesting and curious that the town
contained ; its fine churches, the shaking pillar, and its splen
did manufactories.
At the end of two months I took leave of Madame de
Dromenil. She was so grieved to lose me, and I loved her
so affectionately, that I should have remained with her a
month longer, had I not promised to Madame de Boulain-
villiers that I would go and pass the autumn at her chateau
of Grisolles in Normandy. I wept much on quitting this
best and most amiable of grandmothers. M. de Genlis gave
her his word that he would bring me back the following
spring. I shall never forget that Madame de Dromenil
made my coach be loaded with gingerbread and pears. I
left Rheirhs full of gratitude for her kindness, and affection
ibr herself '
In going to Grisolles the axletree of our carriage broke.
The shock was very violent; my maid, who was on the
front seat of the coach, fell heavily upon M. de Genlis,
and with her head, which struck against M. de Genlis, she
blackeried his eye in the most horrid manner, and received
no accident herself. M. de Genlis was exceedingly vexed
about his black eye ; for it had been agreed, that we were

MADAME DE GENLIS. 149
to act plays on our arrival at Grisolles, and he had to per
form two parts of lovers, which he had thoroughly studied.
M. de Boulainvilliers, son of Samuel Bernard, so famous
for his immense wealth, had just been appointed provost
of Paris, which was a very excellent place. He had mar
ried a cousin of M. de Genlis. Madame de Boulainvilliers
was then thirty-five or thirty-six, she had been very pretty,
and her face was still very elegant and agreeable ; she had a
spotless reputation, a graceful wit, and a most generous and
feeling heart. She had three daughters ; the eldest, after
ward Baroness de Crussol, was at that time fourteen or
fifteen ; she had neither the talent nor the agreeable man
ners of her mother ; she was considered handsome by her
family : she had one of those faces which seem lovely in
description, but which are only beautiful, because in des
cribing them we suppress every thing depreciatory. She
was tall and thin ; she was very fair ; she had large eyes
and a small mouth ; but her figure was stiff, and her shape
somewhat twisted ; her complexion was pale and white, her
eyes round and staring, her face entirely devoid of expres
sion, and her whole physiognomy of grace. Her second
sister, who married M. de Faudoas, was ugly. The third,
who married M. de Tonnerre, and who was then six years
old, was quite charming, and has always been remarkable
for her beauty, talents, and excellent disposition. As for
M. de Boulainvilliers, he was by no means beloved in
society; but he always seemed to me a very worthy
man, who did the honours of his house extremely well. He
was said to be a splendid miser ; which generally signifies
a person who is believed to combine saving habits and re
gularity in his house-keeping, with an appearance of show
and magnificence.
M. De Genlis, who had, as I have stated, got a violent
blow on the head when the axletree broke, felt next day
such a sensation of heaviness and burning about it that he
sent for the surgeon of the place and had himself bled.
He had a room next to mine ; the next day he called me

150 MEMOIRS OF
early, and made me feel his head, which was quite as hot as
before ; and he desired me to bleed him a second time, be- •
cause the surgeon had made two punctures the preceding
night before succeeding in drawing blood. 1 replied that I
should be afraid to bleed him, and that I was sure my emo
tion would render my hand unsteady. Being extremely
uneasy, I felt the crown of his head again, where all the heat
seemed to be ; and in doing so, I touched the wall against
which the head of the bed stood, and burnt my hand ; or at
least I felt as if it were burnt, so great was the heat. It
was a warm stove which passed by the wall, and which was
lighted very early every morning, it being then extremely
cold, though it was but the beginning of October; and
this was the sole cause of the sensation of pairi in the head,
for which M. de Genlis was about to make himself be bled
a second time.
We proceeded to act our plays. I played Lisette in Les
Jeux de P Amour et du Hasard; and Madame de Boulain
villiers played Silvia very agreeably. The parts of Dorante
and Bourguignon were ably filled by Messieurs de Genlis;
my brother and sister-in-law arrived at Grisolles a few days
after us. All the gentry of the neighbourhood, many in-
habitarits of the neighbouring towns, and a great number of
officers in garrison, composed our audience, which was
very numerous ; our theatre contained five hundred per
sons, arid was always full. We played for our afterpiece
Zeneide ; my sister-in-law played that part, and I Olinde,
which is a character that a woman may personate, as it is
quite enveloped in a, long domino. We gave three repre
sentations, which were all followed by balls. At this cha
teau I first became acquainted with M. de Chambray, who
had an estate five leagues off. M. de Chambray was a
man of great learning and information, an excellent na
turalist, and^ well versed in natural philosophy ; he lived
retired on his estate, where he occupied himself solely with
his studies, and the education of his daughter, a charming
girl of sixteen, and his son who was in his sixteenth year.

MADAME DE SENLIS. 151
I became much attached to Mademoiselle de Chambray,
whose information was astonishing for her age. She in
spired me in this respect with a lively desire of emulation,
for she surpassed me infinitely. She confirmed me in my
nascent tastes for the study of natural history. I rode on
horseback a good deal at Chambray. On the 15th of
November my brother-in-law and his wife, with M. and
Madame de Boulainvilliers, returned to Paris ; M. de Genlis
and I went to Chambray, where we passed five weeks in the
most agreeable solitude. I arrived there more than three
months enceinte, but through a peculiarity of constitution, I
was not at all aware of it ; and what was equally singular, I
met with no ill consequences from riding out daily in a
magnificent forest of fir-trees. I played a great deal on the
harp ; and passed whole hours with Mademoiselle de Cham
bray in her cabinet of natural history, of which the collect
ing had occupied her father ten years ; she explained every
thing to me in the most luminous manner. She had also
made a particular study of geography ; had read a prodi
gious number of voyages ; and her Conversation, which
was free from all kind of pedantry, was as agreeable as in
structive to me.
We passed the winter at Paris ; I was then twenty. I
went once a week to dine at my aunt's, Madame de Mon
tesson, or with the Marchioriess de la Haie, my grand
mother. These latter dinners were by no means to my
taste ; my grandmother treated me with extreme coldness ;
and as she wore on her face an enormous quantity of red
and white, and painted her eyebrows and dyed her hair " to
conceal the irreparable ravages of years," her appearance
was far from respectable in my eyes. She had with her an
unmarried sister, Madame Dessaleux, who was as good and
kind as my grandmother was imperious and haughty ; yet
these two sisters were models of perfect friendship. Ma
dame de Montesson treated me with great kindness, and ca
ressed me excessively, but never endeavoured to show me
1,0 advantage in the eyes of my grandmother, who, on her

152 MEMOIRS OF
side, never asked me either to sing or to play on the harp.
Besides these dinners, I went from time to time to my grand
mother's in the morning, while she was at her toilette ; it
was the hour she allotted for receiving me ; and I always
found her before her glass and surrounded by her women ;
she treated me with the most fatiguing sermons I have ever
heard : as she had nothing to say on the. present, she preach
ed to me about the future: I never answered a word, and
when she had exhausted all the common-places which she
was constantly in the habit of repeating, and the last pin of
her head-dress was fixed, she used to rise up and dismiss
me. At my grandmother's I met a celebrated man of let
ters, who was already attacked with the disease (consump
tion) of which he died a few years afterward ; this was Co-
lardeau, who, in my opinion, has left behind him a reputa
tion infinitely above his merits as a poet. A middling tra
gedy, and a pretty translatiori of a fine English Epistle, (that
of Eloisa to Abelard,) were not sufficient to raise him to the
high reputation which the world, as if by common consent,
has agreed to allow him. But he had many friends among
persons in high life § he had a 'mild and pliant disposition,
and his talents were not brilliant enough to excite envy;
he had just enough of talent to please, and this is the kind
of ability which commands universal success. His transla
tion of the Epistle of Eloisa to Abelard is vastly inferior to
the original of Pope ; it even contains some absurd lines,
such as these :
" Quoi ! faudra-t-il toujours aimer, se reptotir,
D&irer, esp^rer, d&esperer, sentir,"* etc.
This translation^ in general, is remarkable for harmonious
versification ; but we have had since a thousand pieces in
verse which are as good as this, and which are forgotten.
Colardeau was mild in his manners in company, but his
*We do not say, faudra-t-il toujours di sespirer, we must say, se disespi-
rer; and what does faudra-t-il sentir signify? feel what? (Notebythf
Author.)

MADAME DE GENLIS. I5ii
conversation was common-place ; he was sombre, and some
what dull, The day of the week on which I dined with my
aunt, or my grandmother, Madame de Montesson took me
to pay visits in the evening to the Princesses de Chimay ;
the one who was afterward maid of honour to the Queen
was still handsome, and an angel in point of mildness and
character ; we also visited the Duchess of Mazarin, Ma
dame de Gourgue, the Marchioness de Livri, the Duchess of
Chaulnes, and the Countess de la Massais, a lady of great
wit and amiability ; our day always finished by going to sup
with one of the three last named ladies, or with Madame de
la Reyniere, the wife of the farmer-general.* She was a
person thirty-five years old, full of vapours, extremely an
noyed at not having married a courtier, but handsome,
obliging, and polite ; always complaining of her health, but
never complaining of any person, and doing the honours of
her house with great liberality and grace. My aunt, though
she was always very well received by this lady, was not hy
any means fond of her ; and 1 perceived that almost all
the ladies of the court, about her own age, who went to
Madame de la Reyniere's, endeavoured to make her appear
ridiculous ; 1 tried to discover the reason of this, and though
1 had as yet so little experience 1 found it out. All these
ladies were, in their hearts, envious of the beauty of Ma
dame de la Reyniere, of the extreme magnificence of her
establishment, and of the elegant splendour of her toilette.
This discovery grieved my heart, and led me to make me
lancholy reflections on the conduct ofthe world. Madame
de La Reyniere saw the best company ; she had a very in
timate friend, the Countess of Melfort, a very handsome per
son, by whom she was sincerely esteemed. She was also
in habits of strict friendship with the Marchioness of Tes
se : the latter, who is still alive, has some wit but knows it
too well, and is too fond of showing it,; and in order to give
her hearers a higher opinion of it, she speaks a language pe-
* Who is still alive, (1813.)— (Note by the Author.)
20

154 MEMOIRS OF
culiar to herself which, to understand, sometimes requires
an interpreter ; she, and the younger Madame d'Egmont,
are the last of the race of affectedly nice ladies, whom I have
seen in the great world ; affected airs and patches were al
ready out of fashion among women of my age. M. de Tes
se was the coldest and most taciturn person I have ever met
with. He built a fine chateau at Chaville, between Paris
and Versailles ; and a few years after the period to which I
allude, he wore constantly a snuff-box, decorated with a
miniature, representing «the chateau at Chaville ; beneath
which was this verse from the tragedy of Phedre :
" Je lui batis un temple ut pris soin de I'orner ;"
— which signified that he had built Cheville for Madame de
Tesse ; thus comparing himself to Phaedra, agitated with the
transports of love, and Madame de Tesse, who was forty,
and who was any thing but handsome, to Venus, toute en-
iiere a saproie attachee. This inscription excited much laugh
ter, especially from its being chosen by M. de Tesse, a man
of fifty, who certainly had never been in love. As for M.
de la Reyniere, he was an excellent man, who loved talent
and the arts, kept an elegant establishment, and gave the
best suppers in Paris ; but he had some oddities, which
however have been greatly exaggerated. Of all the persons
to whom my aunt introduced me, those to whose houses I
liked best to go were Madame de la Reyniere and Madame
de la Massais ; I commenced a friendship with them, which
lasted until my removal to Belle Chasse. I met at Madame
de la Reyniere's several very agreeable men. One was the
Abbe Arnauld, whose Provencal accent, open air, his viva
city, and his gayety, rendered his conversation very amusing,
and gave a natural tone to all he said, though he had a good
deal of affectation in his language as well as his writings ; but
he had many excellent qualities, a great equality of temper,
and an inviolable secrecy as to all that passed in society; but
he was violent in his enmities, and wrote the most bitter

MADAME DE GEXUS. 15 ij
epigrams against his enemies. The Count d'Albaret was
also a particular friend of Madame de la Reyneire. Ma
dame Necker, in her Souvenirs, has most unjustly ridiculed
him ; in the first place, because he had nothing ridiculous
about him ; he was good-humoured, pleasant, witty, and had
a great number of agreeable accomplishments ; he loved
the arts passionately, and was a good judge of them ; he was
extremely gay ; he was a person who seemed always deter
mined to amuse himself, and to please his friends, and suc
ceeded, by means of his talents, his good temper, and his
great complaisance in society; but his complaisance never
went further than it ought. He had the happiest possible
disposition, both for himself and -others ; he never sought
the acquaintance of any persons but those whose company
was agreeable to him ; his gayety of humour never led him to
say any thing malignant; and he never committed a mean
action. He was a person of fortune, and gave at his own
house little concerts, which were delicious ; he received none
but the best company ; his morals were perfectly pure.
This was styled a frivolous kind of existence ; as for me, I
think it far happier and more amiable than a life devoted to
the acquisition of wealth, or the intrigues of ambition.
I saw this year, (1766,) the Abbe Delille, who had just
published his beautiful translation of Virgil's Georgics. He
was at that time twenty-six or twenty-seven years of age.
He visited me several times ; he was then engaged with his
translation of the ^neid. I thought him ingenuous and
amiable ; he had a face of a 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 was very intimate with
Madame de Louvois, who introduced me to her sister, Ma
dame de Custines.
The conduct of Madame de Logny, widow of one of the
richest financiers, had been marked with something even
worse then levity ; and the scandal which ensued, appeared
lo have been a lesson to her two daughters, who both be-

15li MEMOIRS OF
came two perfectly virtuous and irreproachable women;
the eldest, who married M. de Louvois, was the smallest
woman I ever saw ; but she had a beautiful shape, delicate
little hands, a fine complexion, a pretty face, and an infan
tine air, which rendered this little person quite charming. /
M. and Madame de Louvois lived with Madame de Log-
ny ; this was even made one of the conditions Of the mar
riage ; as Madame de Logny would not consent to be sepa
rated from her beloved daughter, whom she loved far more
than the other, who afterward married M. de Custines.
M. de Louvois conducted himself with somewhat of levity
towards his mother-in-law ; Madame de Logny was offend
ed and displeased with her daughter, because she did not
partake her resentment. Madame de Louvois adored her
husband ; but this tenderness was so unworthily returned,
that it may almost be regarded as a weakness on her part;
but it was the duty of a mother to respect it, and Madame
de Logny did not. In her malice against her son-in-law,
she showed so little sense and principle, as to acquaint her
daughter with the infidelities and the licentious conduct of
her husband. By this unworthy behaviour, she entirely
lost the confidence of Madame de Louvois, whom she thus
afflicted with a misfortune which she could not remedy.
The reciprocal dislike augmented ; annoyances of all kinds,
and treacherous explanations multiplied daily. At length,
one day, when Madame de Logny was gone to dine in the
country, M. de Louvois, who had secretly hired a house,
quitted that of his mother-in-law, without giving her any
notice of it ; he removed all his furniture in a few hours,
and carrying his wife along with him. This rude and ex
traordinary behaviour carried the rage and resentment of
.Madame de Logny to its height. In vain did Madame de
Louvois write the most submissive letters to her mother, or
waited upon her at her house; her letters. were sent back
unopened, and her mother's door remained shut against
her. Madame de Logny sent her word that she would
never either pardon her, or see her face again ; and unfor-

MADAME DE GENLIS. 157
tunately she kept her threat. She resisted with an extra
vagant and barbarous firmness all the representations of her
friends, and the tears and supplications of Mademoiselle de
Logny, who interceded with ardour and perseverance for
her unfortunate sister. But Madame de Logny became the
victim of her own harshness, and suffered a change of health,
which soon became a very dangerous chronic disease. In
proportion as her strength decreased, her resentment seem
ed to augment, or rather, her unnatural hate appeared to
be destroying in her the principles of life. Can an impla
cable mother exist ? . . . When her end approached, those
about her mentioned the name of Madame de Louvois ; she
desired them to be silent. They endeavoured, but fruit
lessly to awaken in her breast some sentiments of religion.
The curate of the parish came without being sent for ; he
spoke to her of the sacraments, but she replied not a word.
At last he pronounced the name of Madame de Louvois,
and Madame de Logny, said in a terrible voice, " Leave
my house, Sir !" He withdrew, and remained in a closet
adjoining the bed-room. Mademoiselle de Logny had
brought her sister secretly into the house, and had her con
cealed from her mother's view. At what she thought a
favourable moment, she threw herself on her kness at her
mother's bed-side, and, bathed in tears, she implored her
sister's pardon. " Hold your tongue !" was the only reply
she obtained. Madame de Louvois passed four days and
four nights on a rush-bottomed chair, in her cruel mother's
anti-chamber. Madame de Logny admitted no one into
her room but Perigny and her youngest daughter. The
latter collected from several words that dropped from her
mother that she meditated a vengeance which would sur
vive her. The fifth day, Madame de Logny, who was at
her last extremity, though still perfectly sensible, sent for
her notary, and was shut up with him more than two hours ;
during this time, Mademoiselle de Logny requested a pri^
vate interview with Perigny, and addressed him thus :
" You, Sir, are the person whom I esteem the most in the

158 MEMOIRS OF
world; and I wish to open my heart to yori. I have no
knowledge of business ; but I know there are means of
eluding the laws, and that, by employing them, my mother
can disinherit my sister, which I believe to be her design.
My intentions are good ; but I am only seventeen ; at that
age I may draw back, or follow bad advice; I therefore
wish to bind myself to my resolution by an irrevocable vow.
I beg you, Sir, whom I revere as a father, to receive the
word of honour which I here solemnly pledge you, to give
up to my sister, if she is disinherited, not merely a part of
my mother's property, but the entire half, which is her
right. Now, (added she) I am easy upon this point ; it is
now impossible for me to fail in my duty." Perigny was
deeply touched by this conduct, but what struck him the
most in the behaviour of the young person, who had all her
life been remarkable for decision of character, was the
modest and virtuous distrust of herself, and the precaution
which she thought it necessary to take, of binding herself so
as to render herself incapable of changing her determina
tion. This trait of character is, indeed, admirable, and
proves the soul of an angel, and a virtue truly worthy of a
Christian. On the evening of the same day, Mademoiselle
de Logny and the president made a last effort in favour of
Madame de Louvois; they ventured to declare that she
had been in the anti-chamber for the last five days ; upon
this Madame de Logny, raising her voice, pronounced in
fury these terrible words: "I curse her!" Her unhappy
daughter, placed against the half open door of the room,
heard them and fainted. After this last effort of unnatural
hatred, Madame de Logny fell into a long and terrible agony,
and died at the break of day. If she had had any sense of
religion, and had received the sacraments, she would have
opened her arms to her daughter, and, in spite of her incon
ceivable hardness of heart, she would have pardoned her!
.... On her death Mademoiselle de Logny went into the
convent of Pantemont.

MADAME DE GENLIS. 159
By her will, Madame de Logny gave to the President de
Perigny ail her fortune (about one hundred thousand francs
a-year,) her lands, revenues, furniture, diamonds, in short,
all she possessed. M. de Perigny accepted the trust, and,
agreeably to the intention of the testatrix, he gave up the
whole fortune to Mademoiselle de Logny, who divided it
with her sister, so scrupulously, that in sharing the plate,
she broke in two a silver-gilt spoon, which had not a fel
low, in order to send one half of it to Madame de Louvois.
The latter died without children two or three years after
ward, and her whole fortune returned to the pure and
generous hands which bestowed it. Mademoiselle de Log
ny, a year after her mother's death, married the Count de
Custines. No young person ever entered into life with a
more enviable reputation, or was received in a manner
more distinguished, and more flattering. Her conduct to
wards her sister, of which Perigny had published all the de
tails, excited the well-founded admiration of every one, and
inspired me with the greatest anxiety to become acquainted
with her. She was a very handsome woman, with a coun
tenance imposing and somewhat severe; but her features
were perfectly regular. She was tall ; all her features
were handsome, especially her eyes, which, for size, form,
and expression, were quite admirable. I threw myself on
her neck with a naivete which touched her extremely.
From this time I date the friendship we conceived for each
other, and which lasted till the death of this admirable wo
man. At her house, I met a young lady of our own age,
who became my friend, and whose friendship I have had the
good fortune to preserve. This was the Countess d'Har-
ville ; she had a pretty face, she was intelligent, mild, and
lively ; I never knew any one more sincere, or whose com
pany was more agreeable. At my own house also, I saw
the Marchioness de Brehant, a perfect beauty in miniature :
she was extremely little. I sometimes visited the Mar
chioness of Ronce, an old friend of the late Princess of
Conde ; she had a party every Saturday, where there was

160 MEMOIRS OF
conversation and music ; I played on the harp there seve
ral times. At her house I met M. de Champfort, who had
already published his Young Indian Girl : he had a hand
some face, and was a great coxcomb. At Madame de
Boulainvilliers' 1 became acquainted with another poet,
Lemierre, who was an excellent man; he read his own
tragedies with ridiculous vehemence, but he had a great
deal of talent and right feeling.* He was surprisingly ugly,
but his ugliness was not revolting ; he had a high opinion
of his own merit, and he showed it frankly and without, any
arrogance. It was rather an opinion than a pretension,
and as he did not seem to be offensively vain of it, every
one took it in good part. I supped from time to time with
the Marchioness of Crene, with the young Duchess of Lian-
court, and the Marchioness of Beuvron ; we dined or sup
ped once a week with Madame Puisieux, and once or twice
a month with the Marchioness d'Etree ; but the persons
whom I loved most to see were Madame de Balincour,
Madame de Custines, and Madame d'Harville.
I was now enceinte of Madame de Valence, who was born,
(as well as my first child) in the Cul-de-saC St. Dominique.
After my accouchement, I experienced a real fright. As soon
as the infant was examined, I remarked on the features of
M. de Genlis and all the other persons who were in the
room, an air of consternation, which led me to fancy that I
had brought a deformed child into the world ; at the same
time I heard a mysterious whispering, which confirmed my
fears. I interrogated every one so anxiously, that they were
at last obliged to answer me. M. de Genlis, with a visage
of preparation which made me shudder, told me that my
poor little girl was in fact born with a deformity ; but he advi
sed me to be tranquil, and that next day I should know all.
I was by no means disposed to be tranquil ; but burst into
tears, crying, that I insisted on seeing my infant, to bless it,
and love it all alone, were it even a carp. M. de Genlis
scolded me, for what he called my unbridled imaginations,
and at last they brought me the monster, which turned out

MADAME UE GENLIS. 161
such a charming young woman, and showed me below her ehia
a strawberry in half relief, very red, and marked with little
spots, like that fruit ; of the same shape, and exaetly resem
bling a beautiful garden-strawberry. On discovering that
this was all, my joy was unbounded ; I thought,, and I said,,
that such a singular mark was even very pretty, and that I
hoped it would not wear off; but M. de Genlis, vexed about
this poor strawberry, tried all imaginable means of flatten
ing and removing it, and at last succeeded in effacing the
mark entirely.
As soon as I was recovered from my confinement, I went
in the spring to the Isle- Adam, where the Prince of Conti
resided. I had already come out, as the phrase is, but I had
never been at the Isle-Adam, and for a young person this
was a kind of first appearance. The Countess de Boufflers,
and the Marechale de Luxembourg, both remarkable for
the excellent taste of their style and manners, and intimate
friends of the Prince of Conti, passed all the fine part of
the year at the Isle- Adam; and there, as well as at Paris,
they reigned the supreme judges of all who appeared in the
great world. I had never' visited these ladies; I had only
met them in company, and was merely known to them hy
sight. Up to this time, I had spoken but little in company;
I reserved all my conversation for my intimate friends ; my
face and my harp alone were the themes of eulogy; for my
reserve and timidity led people to judge unfavourably of
my understanding. When my aunt was interrogated on the
subject, she used merely to reply, that I was a good crea
ture, and as naive as Madame de D * * * *. This was a
person thirty-five years old, and famous for retaining at that
age all the childishness of manner which she had at fifteen ;
which was very properly considered as the rarest example
of folly ever exhibited in fashionable life. It was my aunt
who took me to the Isle-Adanu The very first day, Mes
dames de Luxembourg and de Boufflers made her some
questions about my talents. My aunt made her usual
answer. " That is singular," said the Marechale, " for she
21

16S MEMOIRS OF
is an exception to the proverb, which says, that round faces
have no character in them ; there is a great deal of quick
meaning in hers." The Marechale de Luxembourg had
made amends for all the errors of her youth, by her sincere
devotion, and by the excellent education she had bestowed
Upon her grand-daughter, the Duchess de Lauzun, a young
person of eighteen, of a truly angelic disposition. The
Marechale had read little, but she had a fine natural under
standing, remarkable for quickness, delicacy, and grace.
She attached too much importance to elegance of language,
ef manners, and to the knowledge of the habits of high life.
She decided irrevocably upon an expression which was in bad
taste ; and, strange to say, this frivolous manner of judging
almost always turned out to be just. But she applied this
test only to persons who lived much in the society of the
capital, and not to people from the country, or to foreigners.
" A person," said she, " who has opportunities of seeing
what is elegant, and what is not, and who adopts any mode
contrary to the tone of good society, must be destitute of
taste, tact, and delicacy." She affected to have discovered
in the usages of high life, as they then existed, an admirable
mixture of cleverness and good sense ; and indeed, when
any one questioned her on that subject, she had always a
ready reply, which was equally ingenious and witty. Her
disapprobation, never expressed otherwise than by a laconic
kind of mockery, was a senterice from which there was no
appeal. Any one on whom it was inflicted, lost' generally
that sort of personal respect, which caused his company to
be thought desirable in society, or which procured him an
invitation to the cha.rm.ing petits soupers, where only persons
remarkable for their agreeable talents, and their fashion,
were admitted. This sort of consideration was at that time,
very desirable, and much sought after.
The Marechale's censures were not always levelled at
frivolous things only ; she condemned, with equal rigour,
any thing insolent Or dogmatic in the tone, all presumptu
ous confidence, and every thing which discovered in con-

MADAME DE GENLIS. - 163
versation either coxcombry or ill-feeling. The Marechale
was truly the instructress of all the youth of the court ;
and persons belonging to the court, in turn, placed a high
value on rendering themselves agreeable to her. 1 made a
study of all she said ; she showed an attachment to me, and
allowed me to interrogate her about things of which 1 was
ignorant, and especially on the habits of high life, of which
she had studied the spirit ; this assisted me much in the com
position of a work which I have now in my portfolio, entitled
The Spirit of the Usages and Etiquettes of the Eighteenth
Century. I intend to give it another form, and to publish
it as a dictionary.*
The Comtesse de Boufflers,? an old and intimate friend
of the Prince of Conti, and who had preserved a prodigious
influence over him, was one of the most amiable persons I
have ever known ; she had a love of paradoxes, which dis
posed her perpetually to maintain the most singular and ex
travagant opinions : she was, perhaps, too great an enemy
of common-places. This aversion to ordinary themes,
which was joined in her to a great deal of wit, rendered her
conversation extremely piquant, but gave her the reputation,
very erroneously, of judging ill ; her talk was highly amusing
and agreeable. She loved to show others off to the best
advantage, and she did this in a natural and graceful manner,
which was altogether peculiar to herself. The countess Ame
lia her daughter-in-law, to whom she was passionately attach
ed, then seventeen years old, had nothing remarkable about
her. Her mother-in-law repeated bon mots, which she
attributed to her, but which she alone had heard ; however,
since the death of Madame de Boufflers, no one else has
cited any.
There resided constantly at the Isle- Adam, a very amia
ble old man, M. du Pont-de-Vesle. Every evening after
supper, the Prince of Conti requested him to sing impromptus
* This has been done since writing the above. — (Note by the Author.)
t This is not the Marchioness de Boufflers, mother of the celebrated
Chevalier de Boufflers .—(Note by the Editor?)

It54 MEMOIRS OF
upon all the young ladies who were at table. He sung these
couplets in blank verse. There was, in these couplets,
gallantry without insipidity, and infinite grace; but this prac
tice was embarrassing for the ladies ; it was difficult to pre
serve an easy air during these public eulogies, though they
had in them a little touch of the epigrammatic.
M. de Conti was the only one among the princes of the
blood, who had a taste for literature and the sciences, or who
. could speak in public. His face, person and manners, were
imposing ; no man could say obliging things with more deli
cacy and grace ; and in spite of his successes among the
women, there was not, in his manner, the slightest trace of
coxcombry. He was, moreover, the most magnificent of
our princes ; at his house, you felt as if you were in your own.
At the Isle-Adam, each lady had a carriage and horses at
her command ; and not Being obliged to go down into the
saloon, till an hour before supper, she was at hberty to ask
parties to dinner daily in her own apartments. As the
Prince did not dine, he wished to save the ladies the trouble
of going down into the dining-room, and the annoyance of
sitting at table, where a hundred other persons dined.
Ceremony was reserved for the evening ; but during the
day you enjoyed perfect liberty, and all the chafrms of pri
vate society. What a pity, that so amiable a prince should
have had the singular passion of affecting sometimes an air
of despotism and harshness, which, by no means, belonged
to his disposition ! I shall here mention an instance, of
, which I was witness one day, as we quitted our room to go
into a neighbouring one, to hear mass celebrated. M. de
Chabriant stopped the Prince of Conti, to request his orders
relative to a poacher, who had just been apprehended. At
this question the Prince Of Conti, raising his voice very high,
replied coldly, " A hundred blows, and three months impri
sonment ;" and then pursued his way with the most tranquil
air possible. Such coldness, joined to such cruelty, made
me shudder. In the afternoon, meeting with M. de Chabri
ant, I could not refrain from mentioning the poor poacher,

MADAME DE GENLIS. 165
and the barbarous sentence pronounced by the Prince.
" Oh!" said M. de Chabriant, laughing, " this was only
addressed to the audience. I know him well ; none of his
tyrannical orders, given in public, are ever executed ; as for
the poacher, for whom you are so much interested, he will
merely be banished from the Isle- Adam for two months ; and,
during that time, Monseigneur will secretly fake care of his
family, which is very numerous. Such were the orders he
gave me on leaving mass." " What !" rejoined I ; " is it not
then a first emotion of anger, which makes him pronounce
such odious sentences?" — " No," he replied, "it is merely
done for effect ,• he wishes, from time to time, to appear for
midable and terrible."
The Prince of Conti has been too much praised for what
was then called his firmness. Such an eulogy must have
been highly flattering to a princeof the house of Bourbon ; it
is the only praise (since the time of the regency) which flat
tery could not venture on ; and, in order to merit it, the
Prince of Conti affected the tyrant, while his heart over
flowed with sentiments of humanity.*
The Prince of Conti had an imposing exterior, a handsome
and majestic expression of face, and a great deal of talent ;
but I cou^d never accustom myself to his manner, nor get
rid of the embarrassment with which his presence affected
me ; he had something scrutinizing in his air, which dis
concerted me. Notwithstanding that he had been prejudi
ced in my favour by Mesdames de Luxembourg and de Bouf-
* The old Countess of Rochambeau once related to me a beautiful trait
of the Prince of Conti's gallantry and magnificence. Madame de Blot,
then very young, one day said in his presence, that she wished to have the
portrait of her canary in a ring. The Prince offered to give her the por
trait and the ring, which Madame de Blot accepted, on condition that the
ring, should be mounted in the simplest manner, and not set with stones.
The ring was, in fact, only a plainhoop of gold, but, instead of a glass to
cover the portrait, a large diamond had been used, which was ground as
thin as glass. Madame de Blot discovered this piece of prodigality, and
returned the diamond ; upon which the Prince of Conti caused the diamond
to be ground into powder, and used it to dry the ink of the letter he wrote
on the subject to Madame de Blot. — (tfole by (lue Author?)

166 MEMOIRS OF
flers, he thought me but a very middling person ; and when
M. de Donezrin told him that I acted proverbs in an extra
ordinary style, he refused to believe it. * It was afterward
determined that we should act proverbs. A little portable
stage was erected in the dining-room, and we played the
Cobbler and the Financier ; there were but three persons, the
financier, the cobbler, and his wife ; I played the latter, and
M. Donezan the cobbler, in a style of perfection which was
quite inimitable. My aunt had never seen me act proverbs,
for I had only played once with M. Donezan at Madame
de La Reyniere's, and in the presence of not more than four
or five persons. We were prodigiously applauded ; the si
lent timidity which I had hitherto manifested, gave my suc
cess the air of a miracle ; in the last scene, I excited both
the tears and the laughter of my auditory : the Prince's sur
prise was extreme. He made M. de Genlis promise to
have my portrait painted in my costume of the cobbler's
wife holding up my apron full of onions. I was so painted ;
but I do not know what afterward became of the picture.
We were made to perform this little piece four days succes
sively. The Marechale and Madame de Boufflers were de
lighted upon this occasion ; they seemed to triumph in my
success, and repeated continually, that, in order to play so
well, from my own ideas of the part, I must have prodigious
ingenuity and talent ; what the part principally wants is a
feeling of nature. The Prince of Conti tried anew to con
verse with me, but in vain ; my embarrassment in his com
pany was invincible. All the women, and particularly my
aunt, insisted also upon acting proverbs, and asked M. Done
zan to give them lessons ; but he assured them that he had
never given me any, and that I had played the part from the
first as I represented it in public.
Several proverbs were rehearsed. Madame de Montes
son and Madame de Sabran (lady of honour to the Prin
cess of Conti) chose parts in them, and played not even
tolerably, but in the most absurd and ridiculous manner.
They felt this, and their vexation was extreme. Madame

MADAME DE GENLIS. 167
de Sabran showed hers like an infant ; after the play she
cried with vexation. This scene surprised and confound
ed me. Madame de Sabran, who had hitherto shown me
much good- will, from this time became my enemy: I have
had many since from as frivolous a cause. The prOverbs
were stopped to the great regret of the Prince of Conti, the
Marechale, Madame de Boufflers, and Monsieur de Done
zan. We acted comedies, in which I had only two insignifi
cant parts — rthat of a lover in the Impromptu de Campagne,
and Isabella in the Plaideurs. But in order to hear me
sing and play the harp, M. du Pont-de-Vesle wrote a little
piece called the Nuptials of Isabella, in which I played a
sonata for the harp, and sung several pretty verses.
Madame de Montesson, in my opinion, played very ill in
comedy, because in that, as in every thing else, she wanted
natural feeling* But she had a great deal of dexterity, and
the sort of talent which a country actress possesses, who has
succeeded, from her age to play the principal parts, though
she plays them only by rote. The Count, afterward Duke
of Guignes, was of this party ; he passed for being one of
the most brilliant and agreeable persons about the court;
there was nothing remarkable about his person, but an ex
traordinary affectation of nicety about his hair, and magni
ficence in his dress. All his reputation for wit was founded
on a sort of espionage, which he exercised over all little
matters, that were either ridiculous or in bad taste ; these
he characterized in a few words, and in a very pleasant
manner denounced them to Madame de Luxembourg, and
sneered at them in a very piquant way with her and Ma
dame de Boufflers. But this kind of mockery never fell
upon reputations*, but only upon trifling follies. The Duke
of Guignes had some agreeable accoriiplishments ; he was
a good musician, and played well upon the flute. Another
gentleman of this period, who was a great favourite among
the women, was the Count de Chabot; he was neither
handsome nor very young ; he never spoke loud, but he
stammered — a defect which in him seemed a grace ; he

168 MEMOIRS OF
practised a kind of mysterious gallantry, only expressed by
a few piquant words, always whispered in an under-tone;
it was, however, somewhat common, being addressed to
almost all the young ladies ; but it did not appear so, be
cause it was always confided as it were in a whisper to the
ear, and with an air of feeling and truth which had some
thing very seducing in it. His brother, the Count de Jar-
nac, was the most polished gentleman of the court; he had
a passion for the fine arts, and was very magnificent ; his
manners were noble, and his face rather handsome, but he
wanted grace. I met again at the Isle-Adam, with great
pleasure, the Countess de Coigny, formerly Mademoiselle
de Roissy, with whom I had been very intimate at the
convent of the Precieux Sang. She was somewhat singular
in her manners, but she had much talent and good feeling;
we renewed our acquaintance, and she told me that she was
fond of studying anatomrp — a strange taste for a young fe
male of eighteen. As I had a little studied medicine and
surgery, Madame de Coigny loved to converse with me.*
I promised to go through a course of anatomy, but not like
her on dead human bodies. The celebrated Mademoiselle
de Biron,t who lived at the Estrepade, near the Cul-de-
sac Saint Dominique, was the first who invented entire
anatomical subjects, made up of wax and rags; she exe
cuted them with astonishing perfection ; and it was at her
house that I began, and continued at different times a course
of anatomy. She modelled her imitations upon corpses
which she kept in a glass-cabinet in the middle of the gar--
den : I never ventured to enter this cabinet, which was her
favourite spot, and which she called her little boudoir.
* The Countess of Coigny died very young ; and it was said that her
taste for anatomy contributed to her death, by causing her to respire an im
pure air. It has also been asserted that she never travelled without hav
ing a dead body in the boot of the carriage. — (Note by the Author.)
t This lady, whose name was Biheron, was the daughter of a surgeon,
and had followed several courses of anatomy. Her subjects were so well
executed, that Sir W. Pringle, on seeing them said, " They want nothing
but the smell." — (Note by the Editor.)

MADAME DE GENLls. 169
The younger Countess of Egmont, daughter of the Mar
shal de Richelieu, at whose house I had supped several
times with Madame de Montesson, came this year to the
Isle- Adam ; she had still a charming face notwithstanding
her ill health; she was then but twenty-eight, or twenty-
nine, and had the prettiest features I have ever seen. She
gave herself far too many airs of faqe ; but all her airs were
graceful. Her understanding was like her face, full of man
nerism, but elegant withal. I am of opinion that Madame
d'Egmont was only singular and not affected ; her manner
was natural to her. She had formed many violent attach
ments, and she has been reproached with a romantic pas
sion, which continued long; but her conduct has always
been pure. The women did not love her ; they envied the
seducing charms of her face, and rendered no justice to her
goodness and mildness of disposition ; and as she was open
to reprehension in many respects, she was not spared in any
thing in which she could be blamed. I have never seen
any one made the subject of so many little mockeries as she
was ; but this neither prevented me from seeking her ac
quaintance, nor from loving her society, nor from thinking
her charming. The last time my aunt and I supped with
her, before going to the Isle-Adam, M. de Lusignan, who
was called Thick-head, was present. M. de Lusignan was
not quite destitute of understanding, but he never reflected
a moment, and had a habit of openly saying whatever was
uppermost in his imagination. As he was not malignant,.
this characteristic was overlooked in favour of the air of
originality it gave him. At the supper I allude to, when
we were seated at table in the dining-room, his eyes fixed
upon a large picture opposite him, which represented
a very beautiful woman in a sitting posture, with the air of
one occupied with melancholy thoughts. He interrogated
M. d'Egmont as to the subject of the picture; and M.
d'Egmont replied, that the melancholy figure was that of
one of his ancestors, the wife of a Count of Egmont, who,
having discovered her infidelity to him, cut off her head.
22

170 MEMOIRS OF
"My God! Madam," cried M. de Lusignan, addressing
himself to Madame d'Egmont, " does not such an example
frighten you?  but (added he) thank heaven the Eg-
monts of the present day are not so ferocious." During
these interesting remarks, all the company looked at each
other, Madame d'Egmont pretended to laugh, and the sub-
ject was speedily changed. My aunt related this scene to
several persons, through whom it reached the ears of Ma
dame d'Egmont, who was told that it was I who had told the
story. When Madame d'Egmont came to the Isle- Adam, I
was extremely surprised to find her very cold in her manner
with me ; I was told that she said, that notwithstanding my
mild and timid air, I was very malicious ; I begged my aunt
to ask her why she had taken up this opinion of me after
having shown me so much friendship. My aunt called
upon her one morning, and Madame d'Egmont told her what
had been reported to her; upon this, my aunt did what was
highly honourable to her — she confessed herself to be the
person to blame. I cannot doubt of this handsome con
duct on the part of my aunt, for from this time Madame
d'Egmont was particularly attentive to me on all occasions,
and I remarked that she was very cold with Madame de
Montesson — -to whom she has ever since borne a dislike.
We remained six weeks at the Isle- Adam ; afterward I pass
ed a few days at Paris, and then I went with my aunt to
Villers-Coterets, for the first time. We had studied parts,
in order to act plays there, and even to perform operas.
We played Vertumnus and Pomona. I performed Vertum-
nus, who takes the shape of a woman, and my aunt played
Pomona ; she dressed for the part in a gown decorated with
apples and other fruits ; Madame d'Egmont said she looked
like a walking green-house. The dress was heavy and my
aunt was short, and her shape far from handsome ; her voice,
too, was far too weak for taking, a part in an opera; she
failed completely in this one. The Marquis of Clermont,
afterward ambassador to Naples, played the god Pan Very
well. My success in Vertumnus was unbounded. We hatl

MADAME DE GENLIS. 17!
all the opera dancers in our ballets, the piece was to have
been represented three times, but was played only once ; as
well as the Isle SorriarUe, a comic opera, of which the words
were by Colle, and the music by Monsigny. 1 played a
sultana, and the scene opened with a grand air, which I sung,
accompanying myself on the harp. Monsigny wrote the
part and the air on purpose for me. I wore a splendid
dress, dazzling with gold and jewels ; when the curtain drew
up, I had three rounds of applause, and my air had a double
encore. It was impossible for me not to perceive after the
performance, that my aunt was in very ill humour. We
acted Rose and Colas; my aunt, who was thirty, performed
Rose, and I the part of the old mother Robi, We played
besides, the Deserter, in which Madame de Montesson had
the best part ; I played that of the young girl ; the Countess
de Blot, who had been maid of honour to the late Duchess
of Orleans, and who was then thirty-four, played the prin
cipal parts in the Misanthrope and the Legacy, and with the
greatest success. She really had infinite grace, and the
talent of playing very cleverly. The Count de Pont per
formed the part of the Misanthrope to perfection, without
imitating any actor of the Theatre Francais ; he had a real
talent for acting, and an air of nobility in his manners and
behaviour, which no actor by profession can have. M. de
Vandreuil was also one of the good actors of our troop ; he
had an agreeable face, and was a perfect imitator of Mole in
<he parts of lovers. M. de Vandreuil was much in fashion ;
his talents were not very considerable, but his manners were
of the highest elegance. Madame d'Henin said, that the
only two persons who could talk to women, were Le Kain on
the stage, and M. de Vandreuil in a saloon. The latter had
a number of pretty little talents, middling enough, but
agreeable in company. He sung a little, danced tolerably,
and appeared to love all the fine arts ; even if this was no
more than pretence, it is useful to the arts and creditable to
the amateur. He was gentle and polite in his manners : no
one dreaded his malignity ; all loved his society.

172 MEMOIRS OF
The celebrated comic actor, Grandval, superintended
our repetition of our parts, and even acted with us. The
Duke of Orleans played very broadly the part of a peasant.
I met at our rehearsals Colle and Sedaine, neither of whom
were amiable persons. Carmontel, the reader of the Duke
of Orleans, entered the room always after dinner, with a
large book, in which he put the portraits of all the persons
who arrived at Villers-Coterets ; all these portraits were in
profile, arid somewhat caricatured ; but they were like the
originals, and formed a curious collection. He gave us only
one sitting ; I was represented as very ugly, and in the at
titude of playing on the harp ; I had a small forehead,
which he drew a great deal too large, and thus took away
all resemblance. The Duke of Orleans wished to see me
act proverbs with Carmontel, who played to perfection the
part of a brutal or ill-tempered husband ; these he played
with inimitable nature and spirit, but he could play nothing
else. M. de Donezan and M. d' Albaret acted with us ; my
aunt refused to play, but we excited such an enthusiasm,
that we agreed to act every evening. My aunt, towards the
end of our stay here, met with a signal and brilliant suc
cess. This history is sufficiently singular to deserve a full
narration of all the particulars.
From the time of my marriage, my aunt had shown great
friendship for me ; and I, in my turn, had become so much
attached to her, that I no longer preserved any of my old
recollections of her conduct, or the dislike I had once felt
for her. I ascribed her harshness towards my mother,
partly to her levity of character, and partly to the avarice
which I could not fail to discover, and which was, in fact,
her ruling passion; indeed, I saw no other fault in her ; she
had a very equal temper, and some gayety ; 1 thought her
candid and feeling, and she seemed extremely fond of me.
I was convinced that she had the- utmost confidence in me,
and I was profoundly attached to her ; she told me, that the
Duke of Orleans was in love with her, and that he was jea
lous of the Count de Guines. Madame de Montesson had

MADAME DE GENLIS. 173
not pretended to disavow this mutual attachment, but she
protested it had always been platonic, and that the senti
ments she felt could only be altered by the change of those
of the Count de Guines. She told me all these matters, as
well as the Duke of Orleans, and I believed them as he did.
I forgot to say, that before we left the Isle- Adam, the Duke
of Orleans had come to pass seven or eight days there ; du
ring this time, the Count de Guines seemed to be entirely
occupied with the Countess Amelie de Boufflers ; my aunt
pointed this out to me, adding, that she was dying of grief
at the sight. I suggested to her mildly, that she should do
all in her power to triumph over a passion, which was
always blameable, notwithstanding the purity of her beha
viour, especially as she was married as well as the Count.
M. de Montesson was eighty, but the Countess de Guines
was young. My aunt talked exceedingly well about virtue ;
I even thought I discovered in her some sentiments of reli
gion ; she lamented her weakness, and I pitied her sincerely,
supposing her to be in a state of mind the most distressing
possible. As for the Duke of Orleans, she told me she
felt for him only a tender friendship, and that she did all in
her power to cure him of an unhappy passion. I confess
I did not believe this, for the contrary was quite evident ;
but I ascribed her conduct with the Duke to her natural
coquetry, and I never suspected her of any ambitious design.
Monsigny, one of the best men I have ever known, and
who had a great deal of natural talent, became quite trans
ported with my voice and my harp, and came every day to
have some music with me in my room. I acquired a friend
ship for him ; we talked while we played ; he related to
me a great many curious things, and, among others, one that
surprised me. It was, that my aunt had privately request
ed him, as well as Sedaine, to give her acting eulogies only
at the rehearsals, (at which the Duke of Orleans was al
ways present,) and to reserve his advice and instructions
for her private ear; she said that this would encourage her.
Monsigny and Sedaine judged that this was a contrivance

174 MEMOIRS OF
to exalt her in the eyes of the Duke of Orleans ; and, in
this respect, they seconded her admirably, for they were
truly prodigal of their eulogies. This contrivance succeed
ed perfectly ; the Duke of Orleans was convinced that her
talents were miraculous. This very weak prince, who was
by no means endowed with the decision and talent of Henry
the Great, never judged for himself; he saw every thing
with the eyes of others. All the old female friends of the
Duke of Orleans, without being at all fond of Madame de
Montesson, entered perfectly into her views, for each had
a private interest in doing so. The constancy of the Duke
of Orleans, for several years, to a courtesan, called Marquise,
(afterward styled Madame de Villemonble,) had completely
withdrawn the prince from the enjoyment of the best fe
male society ; Mesdames de Segur, (the mother and daugh
ter-in-law,) Mesdames de Beauvau, de Grammont, de Lux
embourg, thus lost all the pleasure which the intimate so
ciety of princes always affords. For a long time, these ladies
never went to Villers-Coterets; there Marquise reigned;
and the Duke of Orleans never invited any but men. We
owed the brilliant party, which was then at Villers-Coterets,
to Madame de Montesson; for this reason, all the ladies
wished that my aunt should succeed in inspiring the prince
with a vivid passion ; it was far more desirable for them
that the mistress of the prince should be a person of rank
than a courtesan, for, in the former case, they could again
enjoy bis society. I do not know whether they were pene
trating enough to discover that my aunt, instead of consent
ing to be the prince's mistress, aspired to be his wife. But,
even in this case, the latter event could not be disagreeable
to them ; on the contrary, all the women of quality must
have been flattered by it, as it gave them hopes of an alli
ance to royalty.
My aunt, who, as I have already mentioned, wished to
finish her residence here with something brilliant, be
thought herself of a singular idea. She saw that the Duke
of Orleans, had a high admiration of her accomplishments,

MADAME DE GENLIS. 175
but he could not have the same opinion of her talents; she
wished suddenly to acquire a reputation for the latter,
which should eclipse that of Mesdames de Boufflers, de
Beauvau, and de Grammont. But how was this to be ac
complished ? My aunt was extremely ignorant, and during
her whole life had read nothing whatever, except a few
romances. She spelt very badly, and wrote letters very ill.
Yet she took it into her head to become an author ; and
being incapable of invention herself, she resolved to drama
tize Marivaux's novel of Mariane ; the numerous dialogues
m that work furnished her with a great many scenes ready
made ; and, besides, the subject pleased her, — " Love tri
umphing over the prejudices of high birth, and placing both
ranks on a level." But my aunt was not unaware, that,
by producing the work under her own name, she would
have to combat pretensions, of which no interest can per
suade the abandonment ; and that the women who had so
long passed by general consent, for the most ingenious and
brilliant persons in society, would not easily give up their
places to her. My aunt extricated herself from this diffi
culty in the most ingenious manner I have ever known.
She wrote the piece in prose and in five acts; it was a
performance below mediocrity, without being very absurd, in
which there were some pretty phrases, and several agreeable
conversation-scenes, literally copied from Marivaux's novel.
She told no one of this work but the Duke of Orleans ; she
concealed it from me as well as from every body else.
When the piece was finished, she read it tete-a-tite with the
Duke of Orleans, and though he was no great judge of the
matter, assured her that he thought it charming. " Well,"
said my aunt, " I give it to you ; I shall enjoy your success
more than my own ; and, besides, I don't wish that any
one should know that I am the author of the piece. Read
the comedy as if it were your own, and if it succeeds, do
not declare me the author ; let it be always thought to be
written by you, and we will perform it at our last represen
tation." The Duke of Orleans was moved, even to tears,

176 MEMOIRS OF
by this generosity, but would not profit by it, until, at her
earnest entreaties, he consented^: I learnt, in the sequel,
all this detail from himself. The Duke of Orleans, avow
ed, then, that he had written a comedy, which avowal pro
duced no small degree of surprise, in which Madame de
Montesson appeared to join, persuading all; the world, that
she was ignorant of it, and expressing with great naivete,
much anxiety respecting the work. Every one asked, in
secret, how the Duke had been able to write a comedy, and
it was generally thought that Colle, perhaps, had formed
the plot of it, and corrected the language. Nobody, how
ever, exhibited ariy suspicion as to the real author. The
Duke of Orleans announced that he would have the play
read ; the day was named, and every one, both male and
female invited, who passed in society for persons of wit —
the curiosity was extreme. At length the wished-for day
arrived. I was admitted to the reading, but not without
some difficulty, my aunt not caring that I should be there.
We were then assembled, quite determined, beforehand, to
find the work excellent, unless it should be quite detestable
and ridiculous. The success was complete. Never was
the reading of one of Moliere's plays productive of equal
eclat — all were in ecstasies. Every scene was greeted with
plaudits the most exaggerated, and nothing heard but accla
mations. In the midst of this enthusiasm, I kept a modest
silence, but I observed, and assuredly nothing could be more
curious. When the reading was finished, all the company
hastened to surround the Duke; several ladies, quite be
side themselves, asked permission to embrace him; all
spoke at once ; nothing could be heard, at least, nothing
distinguished, except these phrases, a thousand times repeat
ed, " ravishing — sublime — perfect !" My aunt, pale and
red by turns, and weeping, expressed herself in no other
way than by her emotion and tears. Suddenly, the Duke
of Orleans demanded, in a tone the most expressive, a mo
ment's silence. All were immediately quiet ; when with a
voice agitated, but very resolute, he uttered these words t

MADAME DE GENUS. 177
¦" In spite of my promise, I can no longer usurp so much
glory ? — This fine work is not mine ; its author is Madame
de Montesson." Upon this, my aUnt cried, with a languish
ing voice, " Ah, Monseigneur!" She could say no more;
her modesty overwhelmed her, and she sank, almost faint
ing, into a chair. All the assembly was petrified; it. is im
possible to give an idea of the effect of this coup de theatre,
and of the change which became visible in almost every face.
The vexation of many ladies was very perceptible ; but the
evil was without remedy ; there was no retracting these com
mendations, bestowed with so much exaggeration; they could
not but persevere in their extravagant flattery, and continued
to assert, that the comedy of Mariane was a chef-d'oeuvre.
This triumph sufficed to complete the enthusiasm of the
Duke of Orleans for my aunt, who, from this "time, he re
garded as a prodigy of talent. I was deeply hurt that my
aunt had kept this secret from me, and with so much dupli
city; this distrqst convinced me, to what extent- 1 might cal
culate on her friendship. I did not show her all the chagrin
I felt on the subject; I made some complaint, indeed, and she
gave me, in explanation, several very insufficient reasons,
with which, however, I pretended to be contented. We
acted Mariane, my aunt enacting the part Of the heroine ;
the representation had, by no means, the success of tho
reading, and was, therefore, not repeated.
It was on this excursion that I was present, for thefirst
time, at a stag-hunt on horseback, , At Genlis I had only
hunted the boar; hunting the deer appeared to me delight
ful, especially as every one admired the grace with which I
rode. From Villers-Coterets, M. de Gerilis and I went to
Sillery, which I visited for the first time. Madame de Pui
sieux, who had always been cool to me, received me, never
theless, politely, though with somewhat of dryness, which
redoubled my natural timidity. She spoke to me of the
applauses I had received at Villers-Coterets, and at last re
quested me to let her hear my performance on the har]
This was six days after my arrival. I played and sung ; and
23

178 MEMOIRS OF
she appeared to be enchanted, as well as M. de Puisieux.
"It must be allowed," said she, " that she is seducing." I
do not know why this phrase should have offended me, but
I replied, in the first impulse of my displeasure, with some
degree of warmth, " However, madame, I have never sedu
ced, nor desired to seduce any person whatever." She was
exceedingly astonished at my reply, for till this time I had
scarcely said any thing but yes and no. She looked at me
steadily, but said nothing. In the evening, M. de Genlis
reprimanded me for my reply, and the next day I trembled
to meet Madame de Puisieux, with whom I happened, in the
morning, to be thrown tete-a-tete in the saloon. Madame de
Puisieux, reclining on the sofa as usual, was engaged with
her knitting, and I with my embroidery ; we were both sileht
for about ten minutes. At last Madame de Puisieux, taking
off her spectacles, and turning towards me, said, " Madame,
have you inade a vow to be always thus with me ?" " How,
madam ?" replied I, in a trembling voice. " Yes," she re
joined, " I am told you are gay and agreeable, in general,
and for the last eight days you preserve an obstinate silence ;
may I presume to ask you the reason ?" At this pressing
question, I immediately resolved to reply frankly, because
the tone, in which it was asked had something lively and
obliging in it. " Madame," said I, " it is from fear of
displeasing you ; you wear an air of severity which inti
midates and distresses me." " You are quite wrong to be
afraid of me," replied she, " I am exceedingly disposed
to become attached to you ; what do you wish me to do,
to put you at your ease with me?" "What you are
now doing," cried I, throwing my arms about her neck ;
tears of tenderness stopped my words ; she was herself
strongly affected ; took me in her arms, held me there, and
kissed me several times with the mpst touching sensibi
lity. From this time, I vowed in my heart a lasting and
tender attachment to her ; and she deserved it, for the ex-
giellence of her heart and her principles, and the charm of
her talents. We talked together with complete freedom,
she said a thousand kind things to me, and I promised that I

MADAME DE GENUS. 179
should, in future, behave to her as if I had known her from
my infancy. An hour afterward, M. de Puisieux returned
from walking with M. de Genlis and six or seven other per
sons. I begged Madame de Puisieux to say nothing of what
had passed between us, as I had thought of a pretty manner
of cominunicating it. A few minutes after the company was
seated, I said with a careless air, that not having taken a
walk that day, I wished to exercise my limbs ; I ran and made
two or three leaps about the room, and then threw myself
into Madame de Puisieux's chair, uttering, at the same time,
a great quantity of nonsense ; she burst into fits of laughter.
and every one of the company seemed petrified with surprise.
M. de Puisieux was enchanted, and told his wife, that he
had always predicted that she would love me to excess. All
this evening was a delightful one to me, and the days that
succeeded it were the happiest of my life. Madame de
Puisieux became exceedingly attached to me. She made
me change my room in order to be near her. I rode out on
horseback every morning with M. de Puisieux, on some of
his fine English horses. In the evening, instead of walking.
I remained tete-a-tete with Madame de Puisieux, who saun
tered with me up and down the court of the garden for half
an hour; we passed the rest of the time in conversation in
the drawing-room. Her conversation was animated, spark
ling, and charming. She had lived under a part of the re
gency, and her husband became, afterward, minister for
foreign affairs; she was the grand-daughter of the great
Louvois, and had her memory full of a number of interesting
and curious anecdotes, which she told admirably. Before
supper my harp was brought into the saloon, and I played
upon it for an hour ; after supper I played on the guitar or
the harpsichord for half an hour; then I played at piquet
with Madame de Puisieux, against her husband, who held
cards against us both, and then I retired to bed. I did not
in general remain in my room, except from half past ten till
two, on my return from my ride with M. de Puisieux. While
my hair was dressing; I read ;- a habit which I have always

180 MEMOIRS OF
preserved in all places where I have resided. At this time
it was the custom, both at Paris and in the country, to re
ceive gentlemen's visits at the toilette : but this I never did, in
order to reserve that time for reading ; so that, since my mar
riage, I have never spent a single day without passing a good
part of it in reading. After dressing, I played on the harp
for an hour, and wrote for three quarters of an hour. I was
then engaged in re-writing my first comedy, False Delicacy,
and I finished it on this excursion. Besides this, I made ex
tracts from the books I read. Madame de Puisieux, in our
evening meetings, often used to make me read aloud, while
she worked at her tapestry ; we had an excellent library at
Sillery. Here I also read the Treaty of Westphalia, by Fa
ther Bougeant; The Manner of judging of Works of Talent,
by Father Bouhours ; and The Dialogues of Aristus and
Eugenius, by the same author, which gave me the taste for
devices I have since always possessed. I read also the
poems of Pavilion ; The History of Malta, by the Abbe de
Vertot; and works of St. Evremond. On. rainy days every
body remained in the drawing-room ; on these occasions I
retired to my room, by which means I gained three or four
additional hours of study.
Madame de Puisieux, knowing that I was constantly writ
ing, begged me one day to write her portrait, of which I
made two the same day, to the measure of a song, the one
a pretended portrait, the other a real likeness. In the even
ing I sung the first, and then the second, accompanying
them with my harp. These couplets received the applause
with which her goodness always rewarded whatever I did
for her. I subjoin the verses :
1 A PRETENDED PORTRAIT
OE MADAME DE PDISIEUX,
to the air, Si ton ardeur est mutuelle.
Point d'esprit, point de caractdre,
Point d'agrement,
Ni ga!te\ ni dear de plaire ;
Un ton prduut :,

MADAME DE GENUS. 181
Des prejuge's, une humeur noire ;
Ne sachant rien, '
Pas m&ne un simple trait d'histoire,
La voilabien.
THE REAL PORTRAIT OF*THE SAME.
To the same Air.
Du piquant dans le caractere
Et dans l'esprit
Un desir obligeant de plaire
Qui reussit ;
Du savoir, mais sans y pr&endre ; .
N'affichant rien,
Pas rnfime un coeur sensible et tendre,
La voila bien.
We went three or four times to Rheims, simply to pay a
visit to Madame de Dromenil. We also went two or three
times to Louvois, to dine with the Marquis de Souvre, the
brother of Madame de Puisieux. One day a person belong
ing to Rheims brought us a young musician, who played
on the dulcimer in an astonishing style ; Madame de Pui
sieux regretted that I could not play on that instrument. I
remembered this remark ; and that very evening I agreed
in secret with the musician, that he should come every day,
at half past six in the morning, to give me a lesson ; these in
structions I took regularly in the wardrobe, at the top of the
house, for a fortnight ; and, moreover, On returning from my
rides in the morning, I used to play on the dulcimer alone
for at least three hours ; so that, in three weeks I could
play as well as my teacher two airs — the one, the Exaudet
minuet, and the other, the Furstemberg, with several varia
tions. M. de Genlis, who was in the secret, had got made
for me a pretty scarlet dress, in the Alsacian fashion, which
fitted closely to the shape. I put on this one morning, and
twisted my long hair round my head, without powder as it
was worn by the Strasburg women ; above this head-dress,
I put a bathing-cap to hide it, and over my dress I wore a
morning-gown, and a mantle of black, taffeta ; in this dou
ble costume I went to dinner, pretending that I had a violent

182 MEMOIRS OF
headach. After dinner a footman announced that a young
Alsacian girl, who played on the dulcimer, begged to be al-,
lowed to enter. Madame de Puisieux desired her to be ad
mitted, and I rose up from table, saying, that I would go
ahd bring her in. I ran into the next room; threw upon the
table my cap and my gown, took my dulcimer, and returned
quickly into the dining-room ; the surprise of every body at
table was extreme, and was still further augmented by hear
ing me play on the dulcimer. M. and Madame de Puisieux
came and embraced me with a tenderness which amply re
warded me for all the pains I had taken in my study of the
instrument. I was made to wear my Alsacian costume for
twelve or fifteen days, in order to give every person who
came to Sillery a representation of that little scene. It is
not without reflection that I enter into all these little details,
they will, perhaps^ be useful to the young women who may
hereafter read this work. I wish them to understand, that
youth is only happy when it is amiable; that is to say, when
the young are docile, modest and attentive to all ; and that
the principal duty of a young person is to be pleasing in
the circle of her own family, and to diffuse among all its
members, gayety, amusement, and joy. When in the most
brilliant part of their existence, we find instances among
the young of the contrary, we may be sure they are always
blameable. If we examine the characters and habits of young
females who are insipid or tiresome, we shall generally find
them indolent, lazy, and selfish, thinking only of themselves
and never of others. These girls, who are thus destitute
of the graces of youth, are consequently without its mildness
and its modesty ; they are possessed with a puerile and pas
sive vanity, that renders them disgusted with the counsels of
experience, which- they always regard as reprimands ; they
are ciphers in society, because no one can be either useful
to them, nor experience, on their part, any of the agreeable
attentions which one expects from good company. My
sister-in-law had no talents, and her understanding was far
from brilliant ; nevertheless, as I have already stated, she

MADAME DE GENLIS. 183
was by no means insipid ; she loved employment, and was
never idle ; she was obliging, and always took a part in the
gayety and the amuserrients of others ; and this'is what may
be expected from every young person — even those whose
education has been the most neglected.
Madame de Puisieux really loved me to excess, and for
that reason she did not spoil me. I was the only person
whom she ever reprimanded, and this happened continually ;
for my vivacity, often degenerating into riotous gayety, made
me fail in many little points; on these occasions, Madariie
de Puisieux would repriinand me immediately, aloud, and
in the presence of all the coiripany. 1 have never had to
make any effort on myself to enable me to receive these
little lessons with humility ; } felt the utility of them, and
was grateful ; they gave Madame de Puisieux, in my eyes,
an air truly maternal, and rendered her still more dear to
me ; sometimes I used to beg her to leave me some little faults,
because, if she succeeded in making me quite perfect, and she
had nothing else to reprove me for^ I feared I shorild feel
less how I loved her, and how much I ought to esteem her.
The birth-day of M. de Puisieux approached, and I deter
mined to celebrate it. I wrote a kind of piece, in which all
M. de Puisieux' s valets-de-chambre were to perform. I
introduced into it M. de Puisieux himself, and the moment
I chose was the time he was engaged- in dressing. I per
formed the part of M. de Puisieux. He was of short stature ;
I wore one of his dressing-gowns artd his night-cap ; I imi
tated all his peculiarities ; I pretended to shave with a paste
board razor, and during this operation, one of the valets
read to me a little story of my own composition, as M. de
Puisieux had the Arabian Nights, or other stories, read to
him while he shaved. 1 rose up from time to time to pass
into my closet; I went out through one door, threw into the
side-scene my night-cap and dressing-gown, and came on
the stage a moment after in my own character, in a morn
ing-gown, with my hair in disorder, as if I had just risen
from my toilette; 1 inquired for M. de Puisieux, and after

184 i MEMOIRS OF
a little . scene* I went off again. I next resumed the dress
ing gown and hight-cap, and re-appeared as M. de Puisieux ;
many other uriconnected scenes followed, and brought on
the denouement, in which bouquets of flowers were presented
to M. de Puisieux, and verses sung in his honour. -I succeed
ed in making the four valets play extremely well ; and very
naturally; M* de Gehlis had also a part, and we rehearsed
the piece twice a-day. The Marquis and Marchioness de
Genlis arrived ten days before the fete, and I added to the
piece a short part for my sister-in-law. In order to show
off her handsome face and figure, I brought her on the stage,
first as an Amazon, afterward as a shepherdess, and lastly as
a lady in full dress, wearing all her own diamonds and those
of Madame de Puisieux. .. The latter used always a work-
bag, embroidered at Besancon,, made of dyed horse-hair,
and worked in relief; the bag was very pretty ; but she
had only one, and that was already faded, and she wished to
order another to be made. I advised my sister-in-law to
copy the old workrbag. At Rheims horse-hair was very
well dyOd ; and she achieved this bag, which was quite a new
sort of work for her, and exceedingly difficult, with astonishing
perfection. She worked at it earnestly for a week ; and in
order to finish it, after several attempts, she passed three or
four nights in this dutiful employment. We had a pretty little
theatre erected in the large wing, which was called the royal
apartments ; and in which, by the way, during the time of
the Chancellor de Sillery, Henry IV. had actually slept.
The evening before the fete, I met with a fortunate adven
ture, from which I procured an admirable situation for my
piece. The Duke of Civrac Durfort was the intimate
friend of M. de Puisieux, who had obtained for him the em
bassy of Vienna. The duke, after passing eight years at
Vienna, returned to France. All that M. de Puisieux knew
from his last letter was, that he was then on his road, and
that, before his return to Paris, he would pass by Sillery ;
but he was not expected for five or six days. He arrived,
as I have stated, the day before the fete, at ten in the morn-

MADAME DE GENUS, 186
ing ; M. de Puisieux was two or three leagues off, on a visit
to one of his neighbours ; Madame de Puisieux was still in
bed, and I had just got up. I ran instantly with M. de Gen
lis to receive M. de Civrac, who was just getting out of his
coach ; we talked to him as if we had been his oldest ac
quaintances, though we had never seen him before ; how
ever, we soon became acquainted ; we explained our pro
ject to him with all possible speed, and it was agreed that he
should remain concealed in M. deGenlis's room, which was
over mine, and that he should not make his appearance till
the next day, when he was to present a bouquet to his old
friend. We gave directions on the subject to all the house ;
all the servants were secret as the grave ; we did not ac
quaint even Madame de Puisieux with our plan, and I can
assert, that never secret was so well kept. The Duke of
Civrac, who was about forty-seven, had a genteel face,
elegant and agreeable manners, and a good humour, which
gained all hearts. He told us that he was dying with hun
ger ; and my sister-in-law and I undertook the care of his
meals. We thought nothing could be better for him than
plums, sweetmeats and orgeat, which we accordingly carried
to him. He knelt upon one knee to receive this breakfast
at our hands ; at the same time confessing he was vulgar
enough to feel the want of some meat and wine besides,
with which taste of his we were obliged to comply. He
acknowledged that he had no memory, and begged, there
fore, that his part might be very short. I promised that he
should have only one sentence to repeat ; and tfie follow
ing is the manner in which I determined to bring him on the
scene. My waiting-maid, Mademoiselle Victoire, had a pretty
voice ; she was, at most, thirty years of age, very stout and
fresh coloured ; I brought her into my piece as Madame
Milot, portress of the residence of M. de Sillery at Paris.
M. de Puisieux had from his earliest youth a passion for
fine hotses ; and I learned from Madame de Puisieux, that
he was so careful of them, that he had formerly given up a
24

186 MEMOIRS OF
mistress for Ho other reason but that she lived in a part of
the town very distant from his residence, and that the
length of the road fatigued his horses. Upon this anecdote
I composed a , verse, which met with great success, notwith
standing the irregularity of one of the rhymes. In my
piece Madame Milot was supposed to arrive at Paris in a
female costume, but with large boots, a horse-whip in one
hand, and a bouquet of flowers in the other. She was to
advance to the front of the stage, and, addressing M. de
Puisieux, was to sing this verse :
J'accours, mais tout en nage,
Vous offrir ce bouquet,
Voila de mon voyage
Le seul facheux effet ;
Pour vous prouver mon zele
J'ai pris le mords aux dents,
Jamais pour une belle
Vous n'en fites autant.
In addition to this scene, I represented M. de Civrac giv
ing his arm to Madame Milot ; the former had only three
or four words to say, which he could never recollect at
the rehearsals, but which he promised to repeat to him
self often before going to bed. The next morning, the day
of the fete; my sister-in-law placed on the work-frame of
Madame de Puisieux,' the pretty work-bag she had wrought,
and I placed in the bag a song I had composed, which con
sisted chiefly of praises of the bag, and of the ingenuity of
my sister-in-law. Madame de Puisieux was the best per
son in the world for receiving and acknowledging a mark
of attention ; she was delighted both with my sister-in-law
and me. There was a large party at dinner, and nothing
was talked of but her work-bag and my song.
The windows of the dining-room of Sillery, which is on
the ground floor, look out upon large moats filled with wa
ter. On leaving table, the Marchioness of Genlis and
I dressed ourselves as shepherdesses, and entered a boat
prettily decorated with flowers, rowed by M. de Genlis,

MADAME DE GENUS. 187
dressed as a shepherd ; I had my bagpipe, on which no one
of the chateau had yet heard me play ; on hearing the sound
of it at a distance, every body went to the windows, and
perceiving us, there was a general burst of acclamation as
we arrived under the windows where we stopped. The
Marchioness of Genlis had a net in her hand ; I stopped
playing, and M. de Genlis begged his sister-in-law to throw
her net; upon this she turned her back a moment, and,
dropping the net into the water, she left it there and pulled
out another full of bouquets and flowers. This little trick,
which she performed very dexterously and prettily, was
much applauded ; and on the performance of this miracle,
I sung to an accompaniment of my bagpipe, six charming
verses written by M. de Genlis. We next took our bou
quets out of the net, and arranging them in a basket, we
announced our intention of carrying them into the dining-
room ; the company came to receive us on our disembarka
tion, and in half an hour afterward all the party was invited
to enter the room where the theatre was erected. My
piece, in common with all pieces on such occasions, was
prodigiously applauded; the only part which Madame de
Genfis has ever played well, was that which I wrote for
her in this piece ; she looked beautiful as an angel ; when
she appeared in full dress, she was applauded for several
minutes for her charming appearance ; in general she dress
ed badly, but on this occasion I superintended her toilette,
and I never saw her look so handsome. The denouement
was very effective ; on the appearance of M. de Civrac,
M. and Madame de Puisieux uttered a cry of surprise and
joy ; M. de Civrac himself was so touched, that it was some
time before he could utter a word ; at last, still holding
Madame Milot by the hand, he advanced to the front of the
scene, but, instead of saying as the part demanded, " that
he had rode to Sillery behind Madame Milot," he cried, in
a voice of thunder, " I am come on the back of Madame
Milot." .j, . . The shouts of laughter which resounded
through the saloon, did not permit him to finish the phrase.

188 MEMOIRS OF
He turned to me saying, that he had made a slip of the
tongue. I was in a great passion, and when the noise and
laughter had a little subsided, I obliged him to repeat the
phrase as I had written it. The fete was terminated by a
round, which we all sung as we danced ; the words, which
were extremely pleasant and lively, were composed by M. de
Genlis. The next morning, as we rode out on horseback, M. de
Puisieux desired me to tell M. de Genlis, that he gave up to
bim the place of governor of Epernay, worth 7000 francs a
year. This was a splendid and honourable present, totally
unexpected by us ; and it caused us both great pleasure.
There was a large company from Paris on this excursion ;
among others was the Comte de Rochefort, a relation of M.
de Puisieux and Messieurs de Genlis ; he was fond of liter
ature, and corresponded with M. de Voltaire, who was very
anxious to make partisans among persons belonging to the
court. M. de Rochefort, who was extremely flattered at
receiving letters from Voltaire, never failed, when there was
no other company than the family, to read them to us. I
discovelfed in these letters, flattery the most extravagant,
and iriipiety the most revolting ; M. and Madame de Pui
sieux were equally disgusted with them. What astonished
Us most was the tone in which M. de Voltaire compliment
ed M. de Rochefort upon his philosophy and his philosophi
cal understanding ; a phrase which meant his want of reli
gion ; now, M. de Rochefort had the deepest sense of reli
gion ; he protested to us (and he was sincerity itself) that
he had made a resolution throughout this correspondence,
never to touch on the subject of religion. But it has since
been discovered, that this was one of M. de Voltaire's me
thods to drag people of rank into his sect. In this same ex
cursion, I met with an adventure, which did great credit to
my memory. M. de Rochefort was the friend of a very
agreeable poet called M. Desbordes, who had sent him a
manuscript fable of his, entitled Daphne and the Butterfly.
There were in it one hundred and thirty lines, of eight syl-

MADAME DE GENLIS. 189
lables each ; M. de Rochefort, after dinner, read it to us
aloud ; I thought it charming, and begged to be allowed
to read it once more ; I then returned it, saying, that I
knew it by heart, which was perfectly true. I have never
since forgotten it ; the poem has been printed in several
collections. I read a great deal at Sillery. M. de Puisieux had an ex
cellent library, and 1 made a good use of it. I read aloud
very well ; the sound of my voice was pleasing, and in the
afternoon, when the rest of the company was gone to walk,
I read aloud, as I have already mentioned, to Madame de
Puisieux ; and my readings were almost always from books
of history or plays. The reflections of Madame de Pui
sieux enhanced greatly to me the value and the interest of
what I read. I brought away from Sillery a great quantity
of extracts. I loved to enlarge my collection ; nothing at
tached me more to my books than the enormous collection
of notes, extracts, and remarks I had collected, and which
filled already a vast number of portfolios. Before, leaving
Sillery, I made Madame de Puisieux a little present, which
delighted her. She had begged me to give her in writing a
little list of all the airs I could play on the harp, the guitar,
the harpsichord, &c, of which the number was prodigious.
A copyist of Rheims wrote out for me the whole collection,
in a pretty little volume, bound in morocco, to which 1 ad
ded all my sonatas, variations, rondos, &c. which I played on
these instruments, giving a new name to each^of the pieces
of music ; for example, my favourite sonata of Alberti, I styled
the Puisieux ; I gave that of which M. de Puisieux was most
fond, and which he asked me for the oftenest, the name of
his favourite riding "horse ; and to all this I added a dedica
tory epistle, addressed to Madame de Puisieux, which I here
quote : Quand on veut reussir et plaire,
Qu'on n'est sophiste ni mechant,
Qu'on veut instruire en amusant, '
Qu'un livre est difficile a faire '.

190 MEMOIRS OF
: Vous, en qui l'on voit tant d'esprit, ¦ .' i '<
Du mien daignez &tre l'arbitre,
Vous le trouverez bien icrit
Si vous en exceptez l'epltre ;
Qu'il ne soit connu que de vous,
A vous seule j'en fais hommage ;
S'il merite votre suffrage
Combien il fera de jaloux !
L'auteur saura braver les coups
De l'envie et de la satire,
Si, malgr£ tout leur vain courroux,
A son livre il vous voit sourire !
I presented this little volume to Madame de Puisieux the
evening before we left Sillery ; she received this trifling mark
of affection with her usual expressions of pleasure, that is to
say, with real transports of joy.
Madame de Puisieux, on quitting Sillery, after Christmas,
took me with her to Paris ; we remained a fortnight at
Braine, the residence of the dowager countess of Egmont,
mother-in-law of the young and pretty countess, who was
also resident there. The countess of Egmont had formerly
been the intimate friend of M. le Due, first minister of state
during the youth of Louis XV. I collected from her con
versations with Madame de Puisieux many curious anec
dotes of this period particularly relative to the beautiful
Mademoiselle de Clermont, sister of the duke, and of whom
Madame de Puisieux had been the friend. I met at this
house the old Marquis of Croi, who, at the age of fifty ap
peared to be eighty ; he had been a great favourite among
the women, and could not overcome his regret at being no
longer beloved by them. He still preserved all his coxcomb
ical habits, and continued to dress in the most ridiculous
style of elegance. This was the gentleman whom the old
queen styled the Invalid ofCythera ; but what a melancholy
spectacle is that of an invalid without glory, whose infirmi
ties recal nothing to our minds but the remembrance of dis
graceful excesses ! This premature old man was full of ill
humour and whims ; and being unable any longer to look
amiable in the eyes of young women, he hated them.

MA0AME DE GENLIS". 191
He affronted me ; and I revenged myself in a manner which
delighted Madame d'Egmont the younger. I affected to
have for him the profound respect which one would have for
a person of a hundred ; he was enraged at this beyond mea
sure, and his vexation produced the most comical scenes
imaginable. At last he asked Madame d'Egmont, of what
age I thought he was ? she replied, that she amused herself
with my simplicity, and allowed me to think him ninety years
of age. This opinion did not tend to raise me in his favour;
he declared that I was something worse than simple ; and
gave her to understand that he had never met in society
with a young person so extremely stupid. Towards the
end of my stay at Braine, I met a real old man, but who was
exceedingly agreeable, the Marshal de Richelieu, father
of the younger Madame d'Egmont. I looked upon him with
great curiosity, as a person who had seen Louis XIV., and
lived in habits of intimate friendship with Madame de Main
tenon. The marshal was agreeable in his manners, and full
of goodness and mildness : he had gained successes in the
field, which honoured his old age, and he was no way hum
bled at the thought of having ceased to acquire successes
of a more frivolous description. It was on this occasion
that I heard him state that he had in vain declared to Vol
taire that the testament of the Cardinal de Richelieu was
perfectly authentic, and that the original existed in his own
house : Voltaire refused to retract any of the falsehoods he
had written upon this subject. I had already heard the
same thing from Madame d'Egmont. I thought, on hear
ing this, that the marshal ought to have given a public con
tradiction in writing, to that historic falsehood. But he
did not wish to quarrel with Voltaire, who styled him his
hero ; and besides, like all public persons, he dreaded pub
lic ridicule, public scandal, and above all the pen of Vol
taire; and thus it is, that small considerations, and the
dread of a coalition of encyclopedists, have a thousand
times in our days, been the means of concealing multitudes
of useful truths. The Marshal de Richelieu, however, had

192 MEMOIRS OF
sufficient good sense and understanding to enable him to see
the danger of the maxims and the doctrines of these pre
tended philosophers ; he always expressed the same opi
nions in society, and there are proofs of it in several letters
which he has left behind.
I passed this winter in a round of dissipation. I went
seldom to the theatres, it is true, and only twice to the ball
at the opera ; but private balls, dinners at Madame de Pui-
sieux's, or my aunt's, large supper parties and visits occu
pied a great deal of my time. Every Saturday there were
suppers at the Countess de Custines' which were charming ;
the party was entirely composed of women ; all our hus
bands having gone that day to sleep at Versailles, to be pre
sent at the king's hunting party on the following morning.
We met at eight o'clock, and continued in conversation till
one in the morning, with a gayety which never relaxed.
We were six in number; Mesdames de Custines and de
Louvois, both charming in different ways ; Madame d'Har-
ville, equally distinguished by her beauty, her talents, and
her disposition ; the Countess de Vaubecourt, who was ex
tremely pretty, and very amusing in company by her sallies
of what seemed naivete, though she was any thing but inge
nuous ; she was the cousin of Madame de Custines. There
were, as yet, no scandalous stories published about her be
haviour ; her husband's gravity had hitherto preserved her
reputation ; but the year following a notorious adventure
obliged M. de Vaubecourt, to demand a lettre de Gachet,
which he obtained; he then shut her up in a convent,
where she passed the rest of her days. Our fifth lady was
the Countess of Creny ; she was the only one of the party
who was not pretty. She Was but twenty, though she look
ed forty ; her behaviour was always irreproachable, and
her disposition excellent ; but she used to divert us with
relating all the declarations of love she received, espe
cially at supper at the house of her mother, the Countess
de la Tour du Pin. Madame de Custines insisted on know
ing the names of these unfortunate lovers ; and they always

MADAME DE GENUS. 193
turned out either to be people whose names were utterly un
known to us, or persons of forty or fifty years of age, who
must have been mortally tiresome even at thirty. As Ma
dame de Creny told us that she perpetually found love letters
in her reticule when she left it in the drawing-room during
supper, Madame de Custines and I determined on writing her
a most passionate letter, which we slipped into her bag one
evening. This letter was so extravagant and so pleasant,
that I am sorry I have not preserved it. Madame de
Creny had an elegant establishment ; and though she was
too fat and too tall to dance, she was excessively fond of
dancing ; she gave some delightful balls that winter, to all
of which I was invited ; I danced there several quadrilles,
and invented one which maide rather too great a sensation.
The fashion of acting proverbs still continued ; I called my
quadrille The Proverbs) in which each couple formed a pro
verb, as they marched two and two before beginning the
dance. Every one had selected his proverb. We had
given Madame de Lauzun this one, " A good name is bet
ter fhan a golden girdle ;" she was dressed with the great
est simplicity, and wore a gray girdle, quite plain. She
danced with M. de Belzunce. The duchess of Liancourt
danced with M. de Boulainvilliers, .who wore the costume
of an old man ; their proverb was, " The old cat gets al
ways a young mouse." Madame de Marigni danced with
M. de St. Julien, who was dressed as a negro ; she passed
her handkerchief from time to time over his face, as if to
say, " It is difficult to wash an Ethiop white." I do not
remember either the proverb or the cavalier of the Mar
chioness de Genlis, my sister-in-law ; my partner was the
Viscount de Laval, who was splendidly dressed, and cover
ed with jewels ; I was dressed as a peasant girl ; our pro
verb was, "Contentment is better than riches;" my air
was gay and animated ; the viscount's, without trying to
make it so, was gloomy and melancholy. We were ten in
number. 1 composed the air of the quadrille, which was
verytpretty and bounding. Gardel composed the figure of
25

194 MEMOIRS OF
the dance, which, according to my notion, was also to re1-
present a proverb, " Run backwards before you leap ;"
Gardel made out of this idea the liveliest and prettiest
country dance I have ever seen. We had a great many
rehearsals ; and our quadrille was so much admired, that
we resolved qn dancing it at the ball of the Opera ; but, un
fortunately, this quadrille had excited a good deal of jea
lousy, among some gentlemen of the Palais Royal, who had
been unsuccessful in their endeavours to be of the set.
They knew three or four days beforehand of our intention
to dance it at the opera-ball, which was then held in the
saloon :of the Palais Royal ; and a conspiracy was formed,
to prevent us from dancing it. We entered the ball-room
at one in the morning, and all si& were without masks. We
walked round the saloon, which resounded with acclama
tions, repeated until the time we stood up to dance ; every
one moved as if to make way for us ; when, just as we were
leading off, a gigantic cat leaped suddenly with a purring
noise, into the midst of us. This was meant as an antago
nist proverb, " Take care not to wake the sleeping cat."
A young Savoyard, wrapped in fur, resembling cat-skin,
played the part ; our partners did not take the thing amiss
at first, but pushed the cat out of the way softly enough ;
this encouraged the cat who seemed resolved not to allow
ustodance ; upon this, our cavaliers, in spite of all our en
treaties, gave the cat a great many kicks ; and the specta
tors, who wished to see our quadrille, took our part, and the
unfortunate cat was seized, and carried out of the room.
This malignant joke spoiled, in my mind, all the amusement
of the evening, for I feared it would have some unlucky
results. Our quadrille met with unbounded success, and
was applauded to the echo ; I was charmed at this, as it
restored our cavaliers to their former good humour. Three
of them, Messieurs de Boulainvilliers, de Belzunce, and de
St. Julien, our best dancers, were in a violent rage against
the unlucky cat ; it was in vain I told them that the animal
had been ill "enough treated to prevent it from returning,

MADAME DE GENLIS. J95
for a " scalded cat dreads even cold water ;" they wished
to question him about the authors of this malicious scheme.
We dissuaded them from making these inquiries. We heard
some days afterward, that it was a certain young prince and
his friends ; but as the triumph had been on our side, our
cavaliers were easily calmed, and our lady dancers escaped
with no other misfortune than the fright. M. de St. Julien,
who was the most annoyed about the cat, was a charming
young man ; it was said of him, that it seemed as if nature,
in giving him a beautiful face, had done so in sport ; his fine
complexion was exactly like rouge, and he had on his chin
two black moles, placed precisely as patches then wore on
most of the women's faces ; so that his pretty male face
looked- like a frolic of nature. He had once fought a duel
about these misplaced graces ; he was brave and clever, and
had not the slightest touch of coxcombry about him.
i amused myself a great deal at home, also, this winter ;
my saloon was large, and we not only performed proverbs
in it, but a comic opera, of which my friend Mademoiselle
Baillon, (afterward Madame Louis, wife of the celebrated .
architect,) composed the music ; M. de Sauvigny wrote
the opera, and introduced into it a part for me, in which I
played on the harp, the guitar, and the bagpipe. We play
ed also a pretty comedy, called The Miser in Love. Made
moiselle Baillon was a charming young person ; she was
handsome, mild, modest, prudent, and clever ; she was &pia-
nist of .the first order ; she composed music, admirably, and
with astonishing facility ; she composed a comic opera,
{Fleur d'Epine,) which was played with applause ; it would
have been still more successful if tho words had been better
written ; but the poet had completely spoiled Count Hamil
ton's charming tale. Our little performances, which took
place between two screens, always terminated by a delicious
concert, which was led by the famous Cramer, who passed
that winter at Paris ; he was the finest violin player I ever
heard ; Jarnovitz was the second .violin ; Duport played the
violoncello, and Mademoiselle Baillon the . piano ; I sung

196 MEMOIRS OF
and played on the harp ; Friseri, who, though blind, played
on the mandoline in an astonishing style, assisted also at
these concerts, as did Albaneze, the Italian singer. Our'
performers in comedies and proverbs were the Count d'Al
baret, Coqueley, and the President de Perigny ; (the most
celebrated male performers in proverbs of the day ;) our
women were the Marchioness of Ronce, Mademoiselle Bail
lon, and myself. We had for audience about fifteen people ;
M. de Sauvigny, the Abbe Arnaud, the author ; the Cheva
lier de Talleyrand, brother of the Baron, a friend of M. de
Genlis ; the Chevalier de Barbantane ; M. de V ferae, after
ward ambassador to Copenhagen ; his wife, in whom I ad
mired the union of two qualities, very rarely found together,
extreme vivacity and extreme mildness : her conduct has
been always admirable ; she followed her husband into Den
mark, where she died; The rest of our audience was com
posed by turns of the Count arid Countess of Brancas, Ma
dame de Custines, her husband, and her brother-in-law, &c.
My aunt never came to these little parties ; however I in
vited her, well knowing that she would refuse the invitation ;
my friends were not hers ; besides she had no desire to see
me act proverbs, nor to hear me play on the harp. This
winter M. d'Albaret proposed to me the idea of a little
piece which delighted me. He used to visit Madame du
Bocage, and related to us all that passed at her little suppers
to the wits. M. d'Albaret had been several times at Ferney,
and imitated M. de Voltaire's.manner to perfection. It was
agreed that we should act the little suppers of Madame du
Bocage ; and that we should suppose M. de Voltaire at
Paris. M. d'Albaret took this part ; M. de Genlis, the Che
valier de Barbantane, and four or five other persons, assumed
the characters of other wits. I wore the costume of a woman
of sixty, and from the instructions of Monsieur d'Albaret, I
played with great success Madame du Bocage ; I spoke of
my travels in Italy ; I was complimented on my Columbiad
and my former beauty ; . then every body's attention was
turned to M. de Voltaire, who performed his part with con-

MADAME DE GENLIS. 197
summate skill, and without any caricature. He related
anecdotes and repeated verses, among which were a great
many impromptus in my praise — or rather in praise of Ma
dame du Bocage. We had five suppers of Madame du Bo
cage, without becoming tired of the kind of pleasantry which
predoririnated in them. M. d'Albaret was inimitable in Vol
taire. We all engaged to keep the secret of these suppers,
and it was so well kept, that they were never alluded to in
society. Amidst all this dissipation I still found occasion to
cultivate my talents for all sorts of music, as I was continu
ally asked to play ; but besides this, I regularly read an hour
a day during the time I was at my toilette, and I found means
of securing as much time for making extracts. There were
always at least two days in the week that we did not go out :
on these days I read five or six hours, and wrote two or
three ; besides this, I copied the memorials which M. de
Genlis was continually composing for the ministers, relative.
to the army or navy ; and I had to write these out very neat
ly from dreadfully blotted copies ; I never was employed in
any thing more fatiguing to me. I trembled when I saw
him come into my room with his huge sheets of paper in his
hands ; however my complaisance in this respect has not
been useless to me, as it regarded my literary occupations.
M. de Genlis had a great deal of talent, and wrote beautiful
verses ; but when he composed in prose, he was exceedingly
diffuse. In reading his memorials, which were full of good
ideas well expressed, I saw that they might be much abridged,
and that they would be improved by being so. This was a
delightful discovery for me. I suggested these abridgments
to him ; he rejected them at first, and ridiculed my ideas on
the subject, but I persevered. I proposed M. de Sauvigny
as arbiter ; who pronounced in my favour. It was neces
sary to alter some phrases, as is always the case when you
have to abridge. I offered a little specimen of my plan,
which was accepted. 1 had now ample authority to cut and
carve ; I abridged all the memorials with great care, and
sometimes re-wrote them from beginning to end. I gained

198 ¦?>'¦ MEMOIRS OF
nothing by my new scheme but the saving of paper; but I
could boast that the writing was my own, and this feeling of
self-love encouraged me, and took away all sense of ennui
from my labour; and I thus acquired a habit of arranging"
my ideas in a luminous manner, and of writing with precis
sion. It was this year that I wrote my first historical novel,
founded on an anecdote in the life of Tamerlane. This
novel was entitled Parisatis, or the New Medea ; it was hor
ribly tragical, and written in a volume which contained two
hundred pages of my writing. M. de Morfontaine and M.
de la Reyniere lentme books in the most obliging manner, and
allowed me to keep them as long as I pleased. This winter
I read with inexpressible delight Pascal's Thoughts, the Fu
neral Orations of Bossuet, and the Sermons for Lent of Mas-
sillon. I had already read these immortal works ; but ap
parently my understanding was now formed ; for I appeared
to feel as if I read them for the first, time, so strong; Were
the sentiments of astonishment and admiration which their
perusal caused me. I read these three sublime writers in
the following manner ; first, the profound Pascal occupied
my mind for half an hour, and fortified my faith by his ad
mirable reasonings ; then Bossuet raised me above the earth'
and all my own concerns ; and lastly, I rested entranced in'
the heavens with Massillon. The majestic flow of his elo
quence, and the sweetness and harmony of his language, have
something about them which is truly divine. How I pity
those who have no love of reading, of study, or of the fine,
arts ! . . . I have passed my youth amidst amusements and
in the most brilliant society ; but I can assert with perfect
truth, that I have never tasted pleasures so true as those I
have found in the study of books, in writing, or in music.
The days that succeed brilliant entertainments are always
melancholy, but those which follow days of study are deli
cious ; we have gained something, we have acquired some
new knowledge, and we reeal the past day not only with
out disgust and without regret, but with consummate satis
faction.

MADAME DE GENUS. 199
About the middle of winter I read with enthusiastic ad
miration the Natural History of M. de Buffon ; the perfec
tion of his style enchanted me and I studied it intensely. I
discovered that it was impossible to add any thing to the
sentences and paragraphs of this splendid work, and that it
was equally impossible to retrench any thing from it ; I thence
concluded that it was written with the most luminous clear
ness and the most admirable precision. Massillon, who was
the first to initiate me somewhat into the secrets of harmony,
as well as the author of Telemachus, qualified me in some
measure to feel the melody of that admirable prose. I
endeavoured also to displace some words, and to change
others, by substituting synonimes for them : but I saw that
the slightest alteration marred the harmony, or injured
the sense ; this proved to me that no author was ever so
perfectly acquainted with the value and propriety of words
and expressions. From this time I discovered that the
perfection of a style consists in its being natural, clear,
and full of precision ; in being harmonious, correct, and
abounding in well chosen expressions. After a long and
diligent examination of these styles, I read over again to
wards the end of the winter all my compositions and my
historical novel ; and except my Reflections of a Mother
twenty years of age, and my comedy of False Delicacy,
which I determined to retouch, I burned the whole ; and I
had good reason to do so, for the rest were extremely ill
written. M. d'Albaret persuaded me to learn Italian, and
sent me an old teacher called Fortunati, under whom I made
great progress in a short time.
This year my aunt was seized with a fancy which occa
sioned me a great deal of annoyance ; she insisted on learn
ing to play on the harp and to make verses. I gave her
lessons on the instrument every day I went to dine with
her ; but she is a scholar who has never done me great
honour. As for verse-making, her attempts at it were by no
means fortunate. She was in every respect extremely igno
rant. I do not think she had ever read two pages of a good
book; she did not even read romances. It was she who

200 MEMOIRS OF
some years after said, speaking of M. de Saint Priest, the
Turkish ambassador, that he had, near Constantinople, a
charriiing "Country house, on the shores of the Baltic. With
this fund of erudition she began to compose verses. Her
first piece »f poetry was her own portrait, which was nei
ther insipid raor flattered ; there was some gayety and even wit
about the ideas, but there was not a single verse in measure,
and there were several feet wanting in each line; 1 correct
ed this singular production. I was far from thinking then
that my aunt, who was thirty years old, would seven or
eight years after compose tragedies ; to be sure she never
would have written them, bad as they were, without the aid
of M. Lefevre. The Duke of Orleans was still enamoured
of her. M. de Montesson was then eighty-seven, and my
aunt seriously looked forward to the high rank which she af
terward .attained. There was but one obstacle in the way —
and this was her platonic affection, which every one knew, for
the Count de Guines. But ambition inspired my aunt with
many marvellous inventions ; I shall soon have to relate them
m detail, and they will be found very curious. First, how
ever, I shall speak of her friends. Her most intimate friend
was Madame de Gourgaes,. wife of the president, and sister
of M. de Lamoignon. This lady was always sick, and al
most always reclining on a sofa, and suffering a platonic and
unhappy passion for the Chevalier de Jaucour, who was
called Maordigkt. Madame de Gourgues was remarkably
pale, and wore no rouge ; her paleness suited the style of her
face ; her person offered several strange contrasts ; she had
a sentimental air, but her manners were cold; simplicity in
her disposition, and pedantry in her understanding ; she was
very religious, and had a great admiration for the encyclo
pedists. She was not amiable, but she had many virtues ;
and she was thought to have a great deal of talent and read
ing, because she understood English — a thing very rare at
that period. We often went to sup at her house ; there
never was any man present but the Chevalier de Jaucour;
and besides my aunt and myself, two other ladies ; we were

MADAME DE GENLIS. 201
never more than six at table. Madame de Gourgues did
not please me ; she regarded and treated me as a child, and
I kept always a profound silence in her company. My aunt
was always amiable and gay at this house, and was the charm
of these little suppers ; in her behaviour on these occasions
there was neither any motive of interest or desire of con
quest : and when ambition or interest did not oppose it, my
aunt's disposition was delightful.
The Chevalier de Jaucour had an agreeable countenance,
a round face, full and pale, black eyes, handsome features,
and brown hair, which he wore in disorder, and without
powder ; he really deserved his sobriquet of Moonlight.
His shape was noble, and he had a good air ; his disposition
was excellent, full of sincerity and honour. He had served
in several campaigns ; he entered the army at the age of
twelve, and had shown as much military knowledge as cou
rage. His understanding was like his disposition, solid and
reasonable. At one of these suppers my aunt happened to
say that I was afraid of ghosts. Upon this Madame de
Gourgues begged the Chevalier de Jaucour to relate his
grand story about the tapestry. I had always heard of this
adventure as being perfectly true, for the Chevalier de Jau
cour gave his word of honour that he added nothing to the
story, and he was incapable of telling a lie, in which, be
sides, in such a case there would have been no pleasantry.
The adventure became prophetic at the period of the revo
lution. I can repeat it with scrupulous fidelity, because,
knowing the Chevalier de Jaucour intimately, I have heard
him relate it five of six times in my presence.
The chevalier, who was born in Burgundy, was educated
at the college of Autun. He was twelve years of age when
his father, who wished to send him to the army under the
care of one of his uncles, brought him to his chateau. The
same evening, after supper, he was conducted to a large
room, where he was to sleep ; on a stool in the middle of
the room was placed a lighted lamp, and he was left alone.
He undressed himself, and went immediately into bed, leav-
26

302 MEMOIRS OF
ing the lamp burning. He had no inclination to sleep, and
as he had scarcely looked at his room on entering it, he now
amused himself with examining it. His eyes were attract
ed by an old curtain of tapestry wrought with figures, which
hung opposite to him ; the subject was somewhat singular ;
it represented a temple, of which all the gates were closed.
At the top of the staircase belonging to the edifice stood
a kind of pontiff or high-priest, clothed in a long white robe,
holding in one hand a bundle of rods, and in the other a
key. Suddenly the chevalier, who gazed earnestly on the
figure, began to rub his eyes, which, he thought, deceived
him ; then he looked again, and his surprise and wonder
rendered him motionless ! . . . . He saw the figure move,
and slowly descend the steps of the staircase ! .... At last
it quitted the tapestry, and walked into the room, crossed
the chamber, and stood near the bed ; and addressing the
poor boy, Who was petrified with fear, it pronounced dis
tinctly these words : " These rods will scourge many — when
thou shalt see them raised on high, then stay not, but seize
the key of the open country, and flee !" On pronouncing
these words, the figure turned round, walked up to the ta
pestry, remounted the steps, and replaced itself in its former
position. The chevalier, who was covered with a cold
sweat, remained for more than a quarter of an hour so be
reft of strength, that he had not the power to call for assist- "
ance ; at last some one came ; but not wishing to confide
his adventure to a servant, he merely said that he felt un
well, and a person was set to watch by his bedside during
the remainder of the night. The following day, the Count
de Jaucour, his father, having questioned him on his pre
tended malady of the preceding night, the young man re
lated what he had seen. In place of laughing at him, as
the chevalier expected, the count listened very attentively,
and then said : /' This is very remarkable ; for my father,
in his early youth, in this very chamber, and with the same
personage represented in that tapestry, met with a very
singular adventure."  The chevalier would very

MADAME DE GENLIS. 203
gladly have heard the detail of his grandfathers vision, but
the count refused to; say any more upon the subject, and
even desired his son never to mention it again ; and the
same day the count caused the tapestry to be pulled down
and burnt in his presence in the castle court-yard.
Such is the detail of this story in all its simplicity. Mrs.
Radcliffe would have been glad to have heard it ; and I dare
say the Chevalier de Jaucour thought of it at the time of the
revolution ; for the fact is that when he saw the rods raised,
he seized the key of the open country, and fled. He quitted
France. To return to my aunt's society. Her best friend, next to
Madame de Gourgues was the Duchess of Chaulnes, daugh
ter of the Duke of Chevreuse. She was handsome, but to
tally destitute of talent and feeling, and she had a thousand
ridiculous affectations. She is the only woman whom I have
ever known, who could be justly charged with the fault of
certain persons of the other sex — coxcombry. There was
coxcombry in her air, in her manners, in her tone, and
in all her conversation. Her conduct, however, was irre
proachable ; she had been married when very young to a
sort of fool, "who, the very day after his marriage, set
off suddenly for Egypt. He remained there several years,
and on his return refused to see his wife. Another of my
aunt's friends was the dowager Princess of Chimay, a very
insignificant "personage, who had neither the merit nor the
beauty of the other Princess of Chimay, so very interest-
ing by her behaviour, her piety, and her virtues, and who
has been already mentioned as maid of honour to the queen.
The rest of my aunt's acquaintances were Madame de la
Massais, who has been already spoken of, and the Marchi
oness of Livri. The latter was young, good tempered, and
whimsical ; she was so gay, and so frank, that she continu
ally forgot all the usages of society ; she was thirty-four or
thirty-five years of age. The women of that time of life
then wore, instead of shoes, what were called mules, which
were a kind of shoes without quarters, only covering the

204 MEMOIRS OF
point of the foot, and standing upon high heels, which we
all wore at that period. I could never conceive how any
body could walk in these little slippers. One evening at
Madame de Livri's, where I was supping with my aunt for
the first time, and in a large party, Madame de Livri had a
dispute with the marquis of Hautefeuille, who was at the
other end of the room ; she got warmer by degrees, and at
last grew so angry, that she suddenly drew off one of her
slippers, and threw it at his head. It was really a shoe for
Cinderella, for she had the prettiest little foot in the world.
I never was more surprised in my life ; yet this piece of
thoughtlessness brought about a warm friendship between us.
I have seen her do a thousand foolish things of the same des
cription, which were all charming in her, beeause they
were always perfectly natural ; and yet this very woman, so
indifferent about what she said or did in her private circle,
was unlike all others, and was remarkable for her prudence
and her propriety in all important matters, as she was for f,he
want of these qualities in small things. She kept an ex
cellent house, and gave delightful suppers, but she went out
but rarely, and scarcely ever to parties, though she recei
ved a great deal of company at her own house.
The gentlemen my aunt saw most frequently were the
Count de Chabot, who has been mentioned before ; the
Chevalier de Coigny, who was nicknamed Mimi, (Puss,) I
could never discover for what reason; he was much in
fashion, and had a handsome face ; he was thought to be
witty ; I have often seen him, but I have never heard him
converse ; but at each visit he made anywhere, he left be
hind him some witticism, good or bad, as it might happen,
which was always quoted ; when his joke was said, he spoke
no more ; he had an absent and indifferent air, and was, at
the same time, extremely hair-brained and wild. I thought
I discovered in him a great deal of coxcombry, a false and
affected gayety, and an air of irony, which he never left off,
even when he was desirous of pleasing. The Duke of
Coigny, his elder brother, was mild, amiable, and polite.

MADAME DE GENLIS. 205
and his excellent disposition made him generally beloved
and esteemed. The Marquis of Lusignan, who was called
Thickhead, another acquaintance of my aunt's, was the con
fidant of all the women ; the only requisites for this office
were good nature and discretion, and pretending to believe
that all the intrigues were only plattmic affections. Many
gentlemen of this period, who were deficient in the requi
site talents of success with women, took the modest office
of confidant, which gave them in society a certain air of
importance, which has sometimes turned out to be useful to
several of them. The Marquis of Estrehan, who was now
an old man, was then the supreme confidant of the ladies.
He had acquired this confidence as a sort of right, and to
fail in it would have been an impolite proceeding in his
eyes. His advices on this subject were (it was said) excel
lent ; he was the director of all the ladies who had lovers.
M. Donezan, brother of the Marquis of Husson, was a per
fectly amiable person, and the only good narrator of a story
whom I have ever known ; he was always amusing ; M. de
Pont, superintendant of Moulins, also a very amiable man,
who, a few years after, married a charming young woman,
mother of the present Madame de Fontanges ; the Marquis
of Clermont, since ambassador to Spain and Naples, cele
brated for his wit, his amiable disposition, and his nume
rous accomplishments; and the Count d'Albaret; these
were the persons who composed her intimate acquaintance.
She received, however, many others ; but these were only
simple visitors. I have several times seen at her house M.
and Madame de Boulainvilliers, the Count de la Marche,
afterward Prince of Conti, who died in Spain ; he was blunt,
but obliging ; he was at once odd and insipid — a character of
which he is the only example that I have ever seen. From
time to time I went, as I have said, to dine or sup with my
grandmother, who behaved still with the same coldness to
me. One day, when we arrived too early for dinner, we
found nobody in the room but her sister, Mademoiselle Des-
saleux, my grand-aunt, who was an excellent person. My

206 " - ¦' MEMOIRS OF
grandmother was frOrii home, and was not to return till the
hour of dinner. Mademoiselle Dessaleux proposed show
ing me my grandtriOther's private cabinet, which was full of
fine pictures arid engravings ; first, I looked at an enormous
picture representing my grandmother in her youth, and her
son then an infant, who was afterward killed at Minden ;
Madame de la Haie had been much celebrated for her
beauty, but I was struck only with the affectation of the
portrait ; my grandmother was represented as Venus, and
her son as Cupid. I looked longer at a charming little pic
ture exquisitely painted, the subject of which was Europa ;
and I remarked in it a pretty idea ; the bull, who is carry
ing her off, turns round his head, as if to kiss the pretty little
naked foot of Europa. I said, ItWight Europa handsome
but too fat ; Mademoiselle Dessaleux smiled, and said, that
it was not an historical picture, but a portrait of Madame de
Berry, daughter of the regent ; she further told me that the
princess, during her amour with the late Marquis de la Haie,
the husband of my grandmother, had caused this portrait
to be painted for him, and had herself presented it to him.
I thoright in my own mind that if M. de la Haie's mistress
had been only a private individual, my austere grandmother
would have thought this picture disgraceful, and would cer
tainly not have kept it so preciously in her cabinet ; such a
false colour vanity can give to objects ! . . . Madame de
Montesson, after the death of my grandmother, became the
proprietor of this picture, and presented it to the Duke of
Orleans, who placed it in his apartments, where it remain
ed till the revolution ; I do know not what became of it
afterward. I did not go this year* to Sillery, because I was with child ;
but I went with my aunt to the Isle-Adam, where I acted
notwithstanding my pregnancy. My aunt performed in an
opera, of which the music was by Monsigny; this opera
has neither been played nor printed ; afterward Monsighy
* 1767.

MADAME DE GENLIS. 207
burnt it. The opera was called Bawis and Philemoni and
the music was charming, , My aunt was Baucis, and was
dressed as an old woman through the two first acts ; the part
suited her voice, she had studied it well, and the costume
of the old woman made her look quite young ; she appeared
not more then twenty ; she met with great applause in the
part, and deserved it. ' , -,. .,:
While on this subject, I shall relate a little incident, which
seems to me curious,, as it shows to what lengths , selflove,
even in the most positive matters, may deceive us. At the
first representation of the opera, my aunt retired, after the
two first acts, to dress as a young shepherdess, and I followed
her into a room near the stage, where she was to change
her costume. , She was not deformed, but she had one shoul
der much larger than the other, which rendered her back
very ill-shaped, when she wore nothing to conceal or dis
guise the defect, and her shepherdess's boddice left it en
tirely exposed. I told her of this, 'but her waiting-maid,
through a habit of flattery, assured her that her dress became
her to perfection. As my aunt appeared to believe this, I
placed another mirror behind her, and let her see in the
looking-glass her own back, which looked quite ridiculous ;
she examined it, and to my great surprise, was quite of the
opinion of Mademoiselle Legrand, her waiting-woman.
She played in this dress, which every one thought very
strange. After the play, Madame de Boufflers, who was al
ways very attentive to me, took me aside to scold me for not
having told my aunt of the bad shape of her back ; I justi
fied myself, by saying, that the opinion of her maid had pre
vailed over mine ; but I concealed the circumstance of the
mirror, because that would have made my aunt appear truly
ridiculous. This opera was performed three times. We
acted proverbs, I played a great deal, and often played to
dancing parties ; our excursion was very brilliant. The
Princess of Beauvau and Madame de Poix passed several
days here. The former, the sister of Messieurs de Chabot
and de Jarnac, was then, I think, thirty-five or thirty-six

208 MEMOIRS OF
years of age, and in my opinion she was the most elegant per
son in society, in point of talent, fashion, manners, and the
tone of frankness and openness, which was peculiar to her
self. Her politeness was at once obliging and noble ; her su
periority was at once evident, but none ever found it embar
rassing. In her whole conduct, there was a communicative
easiness of manner ; and I have often felt, after having passed
half an hour in her company, that I had lost the half of my
natural reserve. She had married M. de Beauvau for love ;
and I have never known in society a husband and wife more
remarkable for an example of conjugal affection, more per
fect, or in better taste. The Princess sf Poix was only the
daughter of the Prince of Beauvau, but her step-mother,
in point of affection, was a real mother to her. I have
never seen any cruel step-mothers among persons belonging
to the court ; they were only to be found in the middling
and lower classes. The revolution may have introduced
some of these into the higher ranks, but the feeling which
inspires these cruel persons is so ignoble that it cannot last
long. Madame de Poix was charming ; there was no defect in
her shape, but she was not handsome ; and she walked lame.
She had a beautiful face and complexion. She was gay,
frank, witty, and piquant. AH these advantages, which are
in general so dangerous to women, have only served to add
their charra to the life of Madame de Poix, whose reputa
tion has been always spotless. At the Isle- Adam I also saw
the Princess of Henin, whom I had already met in society;
she was young, and had a charming face ; but her beauty did
not last long; the following winter her complexion was
spoiled, and she looked no longer pretty: She had in her
person and manner something that seemed too much formed
for a young person of eighteen ; she was said to possess wit,
and her reputation in that way is now well established. I
have never been able to judge of this, though I knew her
for twelve years ; she was of that number of persons, then
pretty numerous, who never speak aloud in company, and

MADAME DE GENLIS. iOi'l
only-with their friends at table, where they always place
themselves near each other ; or, when not at table, in the
recesses of windows ; persuading themselves that they can
never be appreciated out of the circle of their intimate ac
quaintance. Thus their wit remains buried in the breast of
friendship, and is, for the rest of the world, only a tradition.
We found still resident at the Isle- Adam the Marechale
de Luxembourg and Madame de Lauzun. I was never
tired of contemplating the latter, who hid. the most interest
ing face, and the noblest and sweetest air I have ever seen ;
she was extremely reserved, without being insipid ; she was
uniformly obliging and good tempered, without being tire
some; and in her whole manner there was a piquant and orir
ginal mixture of wit and ingenuousness. The marechale,
as I have already stated, was the oracle of fashion. Her
decisions on every thing in high life were without appeal.
She had made, on such matters, reflections at once witty and
ingenious, but from which she often generalized very impro
perly. Here is a droll instance of this. One morning (it
was on a Sunday) we waited only for the Prince of Conti's
arrival to celebrate mass ; we were all seated about a round
table in the drawing-room, on which lay our prayer-books,
which the marechale amused herself by turning over. All
at once she stopped at two or three prayers, which seemed
to her to be in the worst taste, and of which, in fact, the ex
pressions were somewhat singular. She made some very
bitter remarks on these prayers ; upon which I suggested to
her, that it was enough if they were repeated with sincere
piety, and that God certainly paid no attention to what we
call good or bad taste. " Oh Madam," cried the marechale
very gravely, " don't take such a notion as that into your
head I" .... A general burst of laughter interrupted her
speech. She was not displeased ; but she was still persua
ded that the supreme judge of all that is good, disdains not
to judge also of our habits and our manners ; and that, even
in deeds which are equally meritorious he always pre-
-27

:210 MEMOIRS OF
fers those which are performed with the most grace and
elegance. On this occasion, the Count de Guines made no secret
whatever of -his sentiments (as the phrase then was) for the
Countess Amelia; and my aunt had frequent attacks of cholic,
but they never came on till she retired to rest, which de
prived her of none of the pleasures of society. As, before
quitting the drawing-room, she complained of this in a whis
per to her friends, and especially to the Duke of Orleans,
we accompanied her to her room. There she laid herself
down in bed, and groaned for exactly three quarters of an
hour, neither more nor less. During this time Madame de
Choisi, one of her friends and I were employed in heating
cloths in an adjoining room; the Duke of Orleans, with
tears in his eyes, remained beside her. The Count de Guines
was sent out of the room in the course of ten minutes. .At
last I discovered the plot of this farce ; my aunt was sick
from the infidelity of the Count de Guines. She frankly
laid open all her sensibility to the Duke of Orleans, and at
the same time allowed him to hope that the extraordinary
conduct of the Count de Guines would cureJher of a passion
which was as unfortunate as it was pure. Every thing suc
ceeded to her wish. The Duke of Orleans, in spite of the
interests of his passion, was so touched with her sufferings
and her sentiments, that he conceived a strong dislike to the
Count de Guines. It was very amusing to see the looks of
indignation with which he regarded the count, when he re
turned with my aunt and us into her room, and when the
count followed the countess's steps every where about the
drawing-room, and seemed to be overwhelmed with love for
her. On these occasions I saw the Duke of Orleans shrug
his shoulders several times, and seem ready to break out.
I have never been able rightly to discover whether the spec
tators were the dupes of this plot, which appeared to me
somewhat coarse ; I remarked that several of the men oc
casionally smiled, but all the women seemed to pity the

MADAME DE GENLIS. 211
victim of inconstancy. The behaviour of my aunt , amidst
all this, was, to my eyes, the most comical thing possible,
especially on the day following her attack of cholic. The
melancholy and mysterious airs of the ladies who inquired
about her health, the half-suppressed sighs of my aunt, and
her languishing airs, are things which it is impossible to des
cribe. 1 shall soon mention the private views which induced
the Count de Guines to second so well the interests of my
aunt. It will be seen that he had a real motive in doing so.
Madame de Montesson made me no positive disclosures,
but she often gave me vague hints that she was suffering
from an unhappy passion ; I never questioned her on the
subject, and things rested thus till the end of our excur
sion. From the Isle- Adam I went to Balincour, where I passed
three months in the most quiet and agreeable manner ; there
was scarcely ever any one but the family, for we saw very
little company. M. and Madame de Balincour kept a large
establishment at Paris, but at their country-house they re
ceived only their intimate friends. The Countess of Balin
cour had talents, an amiable disposition, and an excellent
heart. She has always been one of the friends in whose so
ciety I have taken the most pleasure. Though naturally of
a serious disposition, and forty years of age, she seemed to
me still young, because she was neither pedantic nor ser
monizing. M. de Balincour, at the age of forty-two, was
of so riotous a gayety, that it was impossible to discover
through his frolics, his tricks, and his playfulness, whether or
not he was a person of talent. But there was in his whole
behaviour something so original and natural that he was quite
amusing. He never behaved in a reasonable manner, ex
cept with the. Marechale de Balincour, his uncle and his
benefactor. Never was an old man so happy as the mare
chal, or deserved more to be so, for his piety, his goodness,
and his mildness. I have spoken of him at length in my
Souvenirs.* He had still preserved his memory completely,
* See the Souvenirs de Felicie.

2l"2 MEMOIRS OF
he was not deaf, he read frequently without spectacles, and
had his teeth till the age of eighty, at whichperiod I saw him.
The old curate of Balincour used sometimes to come to dine
at the chateau; he was a saint in his behaviour, but of a
simplicity which it was wonderful to meet with nine leagues
from Paris. The first day after my arrival, he attached
himself to me in a manner that surprised me ; he followed me
every where — in the drawing-room, in oar walks, and in my
room ; and his theme was always the truth of the Apostolic
Roman religion, of which he recapitulated all the proofs.
He ended by fatiguing me. This plot lasted a fortnight;
it was a frolic of M. de Balincour's, who made the worthy
curate believe that I was a Lutheran, (though I concealed
the fact,) and that he had charged him with my conversion.
M. de Genlis was with his regiment ; on arriving at Paris, I
found a note from my aunt, informing me that she was ill
and confined to bed ; I had left her at the Isle- Adam, from
whence she was to have gone two days after to Paris ; and
where, in fact, she went and passed a week ; she then went
to Villers-Coterets, where she remained for six weeks, and
then returned to the Isle-Adam with the Duke of Orleans.
She found the Count de Guines there, and the scenes which
I have related above re-commenced. I supposed the malady
of Madame de Montesson was sentimental, and I did not dis
quiet myself much about it. The following morning I calk
ed upon her, and found her alone and in bed ; she told me
at once, placing my hand on her heart, that her disease was
there, and that it would cause her death ; I gave her some
common-place topics of consolation. She then showed me
a letter from the Count de Guines, who, at the same time
that he made a long eulogy of her virtues, and the strongest
protestations of esteem, admiration, and attachment, declared
that he no longer felt any love for her, and that he was ena
moured of another. My aunt added, that she had not con
cealed from the Duke of Orleans either the letter or her
own grief on the occasion ; (this I easily believed ;) that the
Duke of Orleans had conducted himself admirably towards

MADAME DE GENLIS. 213
her, and that by his behaviour towards her on this occasion,
he had acquired a right to her affections. I still-continued
to repeat the same common-places — that I hoped she would
recover all this, &c. She said, that if it had not been for
the abominable conduct of the Count de Guines, she would
have carried her fatal passion to the grave ; but that she
still had need of a long separation from the count, and that
she had stated this to the Duke of Orleans, entreating him
to obtain for the count the embassy to Prussia. I now com
prehended why the count had lent himself to her plots ; he
had very little love,, and a great deal of ambition, and had
long ardently desired an embassy ; without this farce he
might have waited a long time ; but it was very certain that
the duke would now solicit the favour with so much earnest
ness, that he could not fail to obtain it. I kept up my part,
an ignorant spectator of the comedy, saying only to my aunt,
that I feared the new passion of the count might hinder him
from accepting the embassy. She replied to this, that, in
fact, the count left France with regret, but that the Duke of
Orleans had spoken to him so decidedly on the subject, that
he had been compelled to comply. He obtained the embassy.
and quitted France two months after.
In order to finish here all that relates to the count, I shall
relate an anecdote, which is perfectly characteristic of his
cunning. On his arrival at Berlin he was very unfavourably
received by the King of Prussia. This prince played on
the flute, and was passionately fond of music ; the great abili
ties of the count on this instrument persuaded him, that the
court of France had sent him such an ambassador for no
other reason. This idea displeased the king ; and, in the
great Frederick, it showed a littleness of mind. The count,
seeing that the king continued to treat him with a coolness
which was almost insulting, discovered the motive, but
feigned to be ignorant of it, He sometimes met a person,
who was said to be one of the king's private spies, and one
day, in presence of this person, he said, in a tone of the
greatest levity and carelessness, that he had now discovered

214 MEMOIRS OF
the reason why the king never invited him to his intimate
society, at the same tunO adding, "The king has corres
pondents at Paris, who must have informed him that I am
of a iriockingarid epigrammatic turn." Some one remark-
ihgi " htfw unjustly any one had given him that character
to the king" — " No," said the coUnt, coolly, " some one
may easily have given me that character, without meaning
any harm; at Paris, this kind of wit is but the habitual tone
of society ; we do hot fear it there."
This conversation, as the count anticipated, was reported
to the kirig, who at first said, that he was neither afraid of
ridicule nor epigrams. He thenceforth treated the Count
de Guines very well ; invited him to his parties, conversed
with him, was charmed with his talents and manners, ofteri
played duos on the flute with him, and constantly after
showed him marks of the highest favour.
Three' weeks after my aunt's confidence, I was delivered
of my son; I was then twehty-two ; M. de Genlis returned
from his regiment two days before my confinement. I re
covered, at least I went to church, in a fortnight. My health
was never better at any period.
I had read a great deal at Balincour, and had written a
prodigious number of notes and extracts ; as I had, besides
this, a great number of correspondents, 1 composed nothing.
The succeeding winter passed away like the preceding.
I wrote, in imitation of Fontenelle, Dialogues of the Dead,
but they were more moral ; the first, was between Constan
tine the Great and Charlemagne ; the second between Eli
zabeth Queen of England and Christina of Sweden ; the
third, between Louis XI. and Henry IV. The Abbe De-
lille visited me several times this winter ; he recited some
beautiful verses, and certainly no one could recite them
better than he. This year M. de St. Lambert published
his poem, The Seasons ; M. and Madame de Beauvau es
teemed the author, and were his warm protectors ; they
were seconded by all their own coterie, and the work met
with a most favourable reception from the pubhc ; but the

MADAME DE GENLIS. 215
best judges, though they agreed that thelanguage of the poem
was elegant, thought it dull, destitute of imagination, and
very tiresome. There is, from the beginning to the end of
this work a sombre and monotonous colouririg,! which ren
ders the reading of it extremely fatiguing ; you feel that-the
author has purposely adopted this tone of colouring, that he
has wished to be thought a thinker, and that he has mistaken
dullness for depth. It is this poem which first introduced
into France the philosophic, romantic, and German, affec
tations of melancholy ; and besides this, the taste for descrip
tion, to which personages, passions, sentiments, and virtues
are made merely accessory : while forests, plants, rocks,
caverns, waters, precipices, and ruins, are made the materi
als of the subject. It was otherwise once, but "nous avons
change tout cela." This alteration is the natural conse
quence of materialism ; in withering the heart, it has with
ered along with it our imagination and our literature. In
spite of all its defects, however, the Seasons is a poem
which will always hold an honourable place in French libra
ries, because its language is elegant, and this. is a merit
which of itself is sufficient to ensure the existence of a
work. Like every other person I read the poem, and I
thought then of it as I now write. Another author of the
same period excited equal enthusiasm in another depart
ment : this was Thomas, and I shared the general admira
tion, though my opinion has been very considerably chan
ged since. His orations are distinguished by their false em
phasis, their florid style, and their forced ideas ; but there
occurs frequently in them at the same time a true elevation
of style and loftiness of thought, and at that time I saw
nothing but these qualities. M. de Sauvigny, by means of his
arguments against the style of Thomas, enabled me to dis
cover all his defects. It is singular, that with my feeling
for nature, I should have been always a great admirer of
Marivaux, iri spite of his artificial manner, and of Thomas, in
spite of his emphasis ; but this must have arisen from my

;il6 MEMOIRS OF
persuasion that their style was not affected, and that their
manner of writing was natural to them. Their defects are
exaggerated excellencies. Thomas saw things in too grand
a light ; and Marivaux carried his niceties and his delica
cies too far. Nothing should be caricatured in writing;
this is the true criterion of taste ; and without taste there can
be no perfection in literature or in the arts. There are two
authors, St. Lambert, and before him Fontenelle, who have
done much injury to literature ; in favour of their, talents,
we may excuse their own defects, but how shall we pardon
them for having raised so many bad imitators of them?
A pedantic tone, an affected emphasis, and a false brillian
cy, disgrace all the works which have been published since
that time to this. Rousseau himself was not exempt from
these defects ; but in him they were only deviations from
good taste ; they do not characterize his general style of
writing, which is beautiful, because it is frank, harmonious,
and natural. As a writer, however, he is still inferior to
M. de Buffon and our other great prose writers ; for besides
his affected and emphatic passages, there are in his works
many detestable modes of expression, and many faults of
language. The history of my first interview with J. J. Rousseau is
not very creditable either to my understanding or to my
discernment, hut it is altogether so singular and ludicrous,
that I shall amVri* even myself while I recal it to mind in
the following account of my acquaintance with him.
It was about six months after Rousseau's arrival at Paris ;
I was then eighteen years of age, and, although I had
never read a single line of his works, I felt a great wish to
see a man so celebrated, and who particularly interested me,
as being the author of the Devin du Village ; this delight
ful work, which will ever please those who admire simpli
city of style and manner, is distinguished by a musical ex
pression perfectly suited to the words, and in a degree
scarcely to be met with in any subsequent work, except the

MADAME DE GENLIS. 217
comic operas of Monsigny, and the grand operas of Gluck.*
But to return to Rousseau. He was very shy and un
sociable, refusing either to receive or to pay visits; and
as I did not feel courage enough to take any steps to
make his acquaintance, I expressed a wish to know him,
without thinking it was possible to find the means of
gratifying my wish. One day M. de Sauvigny, who some
times saw Rousseau, told me in confidence that M. de
Genlis intended to play me a trick, by bringing me some
evening Preville under the disguise of J. J. Rousseau,
and presenting him to me as Rousseau himself. This idea
made me laugh very much, and I promised to appear en
tirely deceived by this joke, which was called a mystifica
tion, a practice much in fashion at that time. I very sel
dom went to the play, and had only seen Preville two or
three times, from boxes at a great distance from the stage.
Preville possessed the art of mimickry, and of entirely alter
ing the expression of his countenance : he was of about the
same height as Rousseau, (for every one knew that Rous
seau was short,) and M. de Genlis had really formed the
plari that had been confided to me, but had forgotten it al
most immediately. M. de Sauvigny had also forgotten it.
and I alone recollected the circumstance.
I remained three weeks without seeing M. de Sauvigny.
but at the end of that time he came and told me, with an air
of marked Satisfaction, in presence of M. de Genlis, that
Rousseau was extremely desirous of hearing me perform
on the harp, and that if I would have the kindness to play
before him, he would bring him to me the next day. Be
lieving it quite certain that I should only see Preville, I
had great difficulty in replying without losing my gravity ;
* The celebrated Rameau had already given the example of that accord
so desirable, particularly in Pygmalion, in the air, Fatal Amour cruel Van-
quer, &c. &e. The words of that song could not be better expressed, if
recited -with the most perfect delivery, than they are by the music. The
9ame thing may also be said of the words of the admirable air, Tristes ap-
prUt, pdles flambeaux, in Castor and Pollux  (Note by the Author.)
28

218 MEMOIRS OF
I however, kept a tolerably demure countenance, whilst I
assured him that I should certainly play as well as I could
for J. J. Rousseau.
The next day I waited with impatience for the appointed
hour, thinking that the metamorphosis of a Crispin* into a
philosopher, would be highly ludicrous and entertaining. I
was in high spirits whilst expecting his arrival, at which M.
de Genlis, who knew that I was naturally very timid, was
much surprised, being unable to understand how the idea of
receiving so grave a personage, could possibly produce that
impression upon me, and when he observed that I laughed
the moment Rousseau was announced, my behaviour ap
peared to him quite unaccountable.
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 wamm-coloured
stockings, his little round "wig, the whole of this costume, his
manners and deportment, seemed to me a scene of comedy
most ludicrous, and perfectly well acted. I however made
a prodigious effort, assumed a tolerably appropriate coun
tenance, and, after having stammered out two or three
words of politeness, sat down. The conversation began,
and fortunately for me in a rather lively strain ; 1 remained
silent, and now and then burst into a fit of laughter, but so
naturally and so heartily, that this extraordinary display of
mirth did not displease Rousseau. He said several pretty
things respecting youth in general; I thought Preville
witty, and that Rousseau himself would not have been so
entertaining, as he would have been displeased at my laugh
ing. Rousseau spoke to me, and as I did not feel the least
embarrassed, I answered very unceremoniously the first
thing that occurred to me. He thought me a very odd per
son, and I thought he acted with a degree of perfection
which I could not sufficiently admire. Caricatures have
* A name given to a particular line of valets on the French stage, and
to the actors who perform those characters.--(7y<msfo<or.)

MADAME DE GENUo. 219
never made me laugh, but what delighted me in this in
stance was the simplicity, the natural and unaffected man
ner of him whom I looked upon as an actor, and who con
sequently appeared to me much superior in private, to what
I had seen of him on the stage. I however could not. help
thinking that he represented Rousseau as too indulgent,
gOodnatured, and cheerful. I played on the harp, and sang
some of the songs of the Devin du Village, Rousseau look
ing at me all the while, smiling with that kind of pleasure
which is produced by genuine infantile simplicity; and in
taking his departure he promised to come again the next
day to dine with us. I had been so much entertained by
his company, that this promise delighted me, and I jumped
for joy, and accompanied him to the door, saying all the
pretty things and all the odd things imaginable. When
he was out of the house, I ceased to constrain myself,
and began to laugh most heartily ; M. de Genlis, struck
with astonishment, looked at me with an air of severity
and displeasure which redoubled my mirth. " I see very
well," said I, "that you acknowledge at last that you
have not deceived me, and you are piqued ; but indeed
how could you suppose that I should be simple enough
to take Preville for J. J. Rousseau."—" Preville !"—
" Yes ; it is in vain to attempt to deny it, I shall not be
lieve you."—" Are you mad ?»— " I confess that Preville
has been most entertaining, and has acted most naturally
and without exaggeration ; in short, that nothing could be
better as a performance, but I am persuaded, that with the
exception of the dress, he has not imitated Rousseau. He
has personified a good old man very, amiable, and not Rous
seau, who would certainly have thought my conduct very
strange, and would have been seriously offended at such a
reception." I had no sooner pronounced these words,
than M. de Genlis, and M. de Sauvigny, began to laugh so
immoderately, that I began to feel surprised ; an explana
tion ensued, and to my great confusiqti T heard that it was
certainly J. J. Rousseau I tatf&^rvfed in that singular
manner. I declared that I would never receive him again

220 MEMOIRS OF
if he were to be informed of my stupidity, and was promised
that he should never know what had occurred : a promise
which was strictly kept.
The most singular circumstance in all this is, that by this
conduct, silly and inconsiderate as it was, I gained the
good opinion of Rousseau. He told M. de Sauvigny, that
I was a young person the most unaffected, cheerful, and de
void of pretensions he had ever met with, whereas but for
the mistake which had inspired me with so much confi
dence and good humour, he would have seen nothing in me
but excessive timidity. 1 therefore owed this success to an
error, and could not possibly feel the least proud at it.
Knowing all the indulgence of Rousseau, I met him again
without any feeling of embarrassment, and have always
been perfectly at my ease with him.
I never knew a literary character more agreeable or with
less affectation. He spoke simply of himself, and without
spite of his enemies. He rendered full justice to the talents
of M. de Voltaire. He even said that the author of Zaire
and Merope could not be without a soul full of sensibility ;
but he added, that he had been corrupted by pride and flat
tery. He spoke to us of his Confessions, which he had read
to Madame d'Egmont. I was too young, he told me, to ob
tain the same proof of confidence. While on this subject,
he thought fit to ask me if I had read his works ; I replied,
with some embarrassment, that I had not. I was still more
confused, when he wished to know why, and looked fixedly
at me. His eyes were small, and though deep set, were very
piercing, and as if they would penetrate and pry into the
very soul of the individual he was interrogating. It seemed
to me that he would have instantly discovered a falsehood
or evasive reply ; I therefore had no merit in frankly telling
him that I had not read his works, because it was said, that
there were many things in them against religion. " You
know," replied he, " that I am not a Catholic ; but no one
has spoken of the Gospel with more conviction and feeling."
These were his very words. I thought he had done with

MADAME DE GENUS. 22f
his questions ; but he asked me again with a smile, why I
blushed in telling him what I have related above. I at once
answered, that I was afraid of displeasing him. He highly
praised my reply, because it was unpretending. He liked
above all things simplicity and unaffectedness. He told me
that his works were not suited to my time of life ; but that I
would do well to read Emile in a few years. He often talk
ed to us of the manner in which he had composed the Nou-
velle Heldise. He told us that he wrote all the letters of
Julie on beautiful small letter-paper with vignettes— that he
afterward folded them like letters, and read them in his walks
with as much transport as if he had received them from an
adored mistress. He recited his Pygmalion to us by heart,
making a few gestures, the whole, as I thought, in the most
energetic, true, and perfect manner. He had a most agreea
ble smile, full of mildness and finesse, was talkative, and,
as far as I found, very gay. He talked admirably of music,
and was a real connisseur ; yet, amidst the heap of roman
ces of his own that he gave me, there was not one that was
pretty, or even fit for singing. He made a very bad air for
the romance of Nice de Metastase, which one of my friends,
M. de Monsigny, has since set to music for me ; the air is
now worthy of the words, which are really charming.
He gave me all his romances with the music ; the whole to
gether would have formed a very precious volume, for it was
all in his own handwriting, and of his own composition, words
and music. But the mania of recollections did not prevail
then as it does now ; his friends were not forgotten, and little
importance was given to what may be called his acquaint
ances, even the most celebrated of them : I scattered and
lost this collection, which was neither bound nor stitched to
gether, and I have often regretted it since. Rousseau copied
music with singular perfection ; I was extremely sorry when
he told me that this was his sole means of subsistence.*
* The Marchioness of Pompadour having succeeded in putting Vol
taire, Duclos, Crebillon, and Marmontel in her interests, tried, as she said,
to tame Rousseau ; but a letter she received from him disgusted her from

222 MEMOIRS OF
Rousseau came almost daily to dine at our house, and
during five months I had neither noticed caprice in him nor
morbid sensibility, when we had nearly quarrelled on a very
singular account. He was very fond of a kind of Sillery
wine, of the colour of onion skin, and M. de Genlis asked
the liberty of sending him some, adding, that he had receiv
ed it himself as a present from his uncle. Rousseau an
swered that he would be very happy if he sent him two bot
tles of it. The next morning M. de Genlis sent to him a
basket containing twenty-five bottles of the wine, which so
inflamed Rousseau, that he sent back the basket with all its
contents, along with a most singular laconic epistle, breath
ing nothing but anger, disdain, and implacable resentment.
M. de Sauvigny completed our astonishment and consterna
tion by telling us that Rousseau was absolutely furious, and
declaring that he never would see us again. Wondering
how so simple an attention could. have given such offence,
M. de Genlis asked M. de Sauvigny the reason Rousseau
gave for his caprice ; he replied, that Rousseau said it was
evident they thought that he had modestly asked for two
bottles, only to have a present ; that the idea was offensive,
&c. M. de Genlis told me, that as I was not involved in his
impertinence, Rousseau might perhaps consent to return in
making any more advances. " He is an owl," said she one day to Madame
de Mirepoix : " Yes ;" said the Marechale, " but he is Minerva's."
" Madam,
" I, thought for a moment that it was by mistake that your messenger
wished to pay me a hundred louis, for what is only worth twelve francs,
but as he has undeceived me, allow me to undeceive you in my turn. My
savings have enabled me to obtain tt vested income of five hundred' and
forty livres, after all deductions. My labour obtains me nearly the same
sum, so that I have a considerable surplus, which I employ in the best way
I can, though I seldom give alms. If, contrary to my expectation, old age or
infirmities should one day disable me, I have a friend. '
J. J. Rousseau."
Paris, August 18, 1762. (Editor.)

MADAME DE GENLIS. 223
favour of my innocence. Our regrets were sincere, for we
loved him. I therefore wrote a rather long letter, which I
sent along with two bottles, in my name. Rousseau yielded
at last and returned, but though very agreeable with me, he
was dry and distant towards M. de Genlis, whose talents
and conversation he had hitherto been fond of, and M. de
Genlis was never wholly reinstated in his good graces.
Two months after M. de Sauvigny had a play to be per
formed at the Theatre Francais, entitled the Persiffeur.
Rousseau had told us that he did not frequent the theatre,
and that he carefully avoided showing himself in public ;
but as he seemed very fond of M. de Sauvigny, I urged
him to go along with us on the first night of the play, and
he consented, as I had obtained the loan of a grated box,
with a private staircase and entrance. It was agreed that
I was to take him to the theatre, and that if the play suc
ceeded, we should leave the house before the afterpiece,
and return to our house to supper. The plan rather' de
ranged the usual habits of Rousseau, but he yielded to the
arrangement with all the ease in the world. The night
of the play, Rousseau came to me a little before five o'clock,
and we set out. ' When we were in the carriage, Rousseau
told me, with a smile, that I was very richly dressed to re
main in a grated box. I answered, with the same good
humour, that I had dressed myself for him. Now 1 had
flowers in my hair, and my head-dress was in the usual
fashion of young ladies, but every thing else was as simple as
could be ; — I mention these particulars on account of the
importance given to them in the sequel. We reached the
theatre more than half an hour before the play began. On
entering the box, I began to put down the grate, but Rous
seau was strongly opposed to it, saying that he was sure I
should not like it. I told him that the contrary was the
fact, and that we had agreed upon it besides. He answer
ed that he would place himself behind me, that I should
conceal him altogether, which was all he wished for. I
still insisted, but Rousseau held the grate strongly, and pre-

224 MEMOIRS OF
vented me putting it down. During this little discussion we
were standing ; and the box was a front one near the or
chestra, and adjoining the pit. I was afraid of drawing the
attention of the audience towards us ; to put an end to the
dispute, I yielded and sat down. Rousseau placed himself
behind me, but a moment afterward put forward his head
betwixt M. de Genlis and me, so as to be seen. I told him of
it. He twice made the same movement again, and was per
ceived and known. I heard several persons, looking
towards our box, and calling Out, " There is Rousseau. ."'
" My God," said I, " you have been seen ! " He answered
me drily, "that cannot be." Yet the words " There is
Rousseau ! There is Rousseau ."' passed from one to another,
and all eyes were fixed on our hqx^ but nothing further was
done. The noise disappeared without producing any
applause. The orchestra began, nothing was thought of
but the play, and Rousseau was forgotten. I had again pro
posed to him to put down the grate, when he answered me,
in a very peevish tone, that it was too late. " That is not
my fault," said I. " No, surely," he replied with a forced
and bitter smile. I was much hurt at this answer, it was so
unjust. I was in great confusion, and notwithstanding my
want of experience, I saw pretty clearly how the truth lay.
I flattered myself, however, that this stiange peevishness
would quickly disappear, and I saw that the best thing I
-could do was to seem not to observe it. The curtain
rose, and the play began. I thought of nothing but the
new play, which succeeded. The author was several times
called for, and his success was complete.
We left the box. Rousseau gave me his hand ; but his face
was frightfully sombre. I told him the author must be well
pleased, and that we should have a delightful evening. Not
a word in reply. On reaching my carriage I mounted ; M.
de Genlis came after Rousseau to let him pass first, but the
latter, turning round, told him he should not return with us.
M. de Genlis and I protested against this; but Rousseau,

MADAME DE GENLIS. 225
#
without replying a word, made his bow, turned his back, and
disappeared. The next day M. de Sauvigny was commissioned to ques
tion him about this freak, but was strangely surprised at his
asserting, with eyes sparkling with rage, that he would never
see me as long as he lived, for that I had taken him to the
play to show him off in the way that wild beasts are exhibit
ed at the fair. M. de Sauvigny answered, that from what
he had heard me say the evening before, I had been desirous
of putting the grate down. Rousseau maintained that I had
made a very feeble effort, and that at any rate, my splendid
dress and the choice of the box were proofs sufficient that I
never had the intention of concealing myself. It was use
less to tell him that my dress was nowise remarkable, and
that a borrowed box could not be one of choice : — nothing
could bend him. I was so hurt at this account of his con
duct, that I would not take the slightest step to pacify one
who had acted so unjustly. Besides this, I knew that there
was no sincerity in his complaints ; the fact is, that with the
hope of producing a lively sensation, he desired to show him
self, and his ill-humour was excited by not finding his pre
sence produce more effect. I never saw him afterward.
Two or three years afterward, learning, by Mademoiselle
Thouin, of the King's Garden, (the Jardin des Plantes,)
whose brother he saw frequently, that he was sorry that
tickets were necessary to obtain admission into the gardens
of Mouceaux, which he was very fond of, I obtained a key
of the garden for him, with the liberty of Walking in it when
ever he pleased ; and I sent the key by Mademoiselle Thouin.
He returned me thanks'; nothing more occurred, and I was
pleased at doing him a service, but felt no desire for further
intimacy. The same year M. de Sauvigny brought forward his trage
dy, or rather his drama, of Gabrielle d'Estree, which contains
some fine verses and eloquent passages, and some interesting
scenes* — it was successful. The author possessed talent.
29

12B MEMOIRS OF
and a very sound judgment in general ; but he never had
any plan, and never produced a perfect dramatic work.
Knowledge now began to be regularly classified in my
mind. I was well acquainted with Ancient History, Roman
History, that of the Lower Empire, and Mythology. I had
read all our dramatic authors, all our good poets, and all our
moralists, at whose head I place our Christian orators.
This winter I read Bourdaloue and Flechier : the former I
found solid, and consequently convincing, and this is high
praise for a preacher. Flechier seemed to me full of bril
liancy and wit, but rather affected, and I am still of the same
opinion at present. With delight I again read La Bruyere,
and began the History of France, of which I was very igno
rant. Towards the middle of winter the Count de Guines
. set out on his embassy to Berlin. My aunt was still sick
fi-om chagrin ; she tormented the Duke of Orleans, who had
become her confidant ; and alarriied him to the highest pitch
by declaring that she would go to Barege by the end of
March. M. de Montesson was dying, and every thing an
nounced a happy course of events.
M. de La Harpe was now reading his Melanie, which
charmed all the young ladies ; but I took no step to be pre
sent at his recitations. These readings I never liked, parti
cularly those of works much boasted of, for I was always
confused in my demeanour ; I am not very forward, and one
must be excessively so on such occasions not to look like an
ideot. Madame d'Henin, and many others, quoted some
verses from it, with high admiration ; amongst others, the
following towards the end, when her vows have just been
pronounced : —
" La tombe se renferme et l'on y meurt long terns."
This verse I found bad for the very reason that made it be
admired. We never say of any one that he is long in dying
(meurt long terns;) and in fact a false expression was taken
for a new idea. How many authors have since owed all
their success to this mistake. We saya long agony, but not

MADAME DE GENLIS.

a lon°" death, (une longue mort,) for death is but momentary.
Yet on y meurt long terns, was, notwithstanding, held to be a
striking mark of genius.
Melaine was printed; I read it, and found it but a bour
geois imitation of Iphigenia. A father wishes to sacrifice
his daughter, and a mother and a lover oppose it. But
what kind of mother is Madame de Faublas, with so many
infallible means of preventing the sacrifice ! The Cure is
taken from the Comte de Cominge, a wretched piece written
prior to Melanie, and he only appears to talk to no purpose.
He should act, and then there would be no victim ; the
denouement is quite insufferable in a play, the characters of
which are Christian ; but at that time the author Was neither
religious nor a Christian. The feeling Melaine, abjuring
reUgion, and delivering up her father, whom she curses,
to eternal remorse, and her mother and lover to eternal
sorrow, is altogether a monstrous character. Suicide is
still more odious in a woman than in a man ; — a woman
who thinks of killing herself is no longer a woman. M. de
La Harpe, in the preface to this play, had the courage and
simplicity to say, that Voltaire wrote him that Europe
was expecting Melanie ! Such was really the style of Vol
taire towards his admirers ; and whilst he called Gresset a
scoundrel, and the author of Didon and some beautiful poetry,
a fool, he wrote that Europe was expecting Melanie ! Eu
rope, which had never shown this ardent feeling for Cinna,
for Athalie, or for the Misanthrope, must have been strange
ly duped when Melanie at last appeared. Since his con
version, M. de La Harpe has reprinted this drama. It is
worth while to examine the verses he has expunged — as he
was really sincere in his devotion, he conscientiously put
out every verse he had written with a bad intention ; and
amongst them, there are many written in a very sentimen
tal and religious style. Nothing shows better philosophical
duplicity than an examination of these corrections. At
this time Colle brought out his Joueur, (Beverley,) a drama
as tiresome as it is sombre ; it was first played at Villers-

228 MEMOIRS OF
Coterets. I believe it was this winter also that Monsigny
gave his Deserteiir, the music of which will always be de
lightful to those who truly love that enchanting art. The
drama is full of the wildest improbabilities, but it presents
some moving incidents and interesting scenes. I was pre
sent on the first night of its being performed, and I confess
that I shed torrents of tears ; it is true that never was a
play better performed. Caillot, Laruette, his wife, Clair-
val, Trial, as clown, the charming Mademoiselle Baupre,
playing the character of the young girl, Were all excellent
performers, that have never been equalled since. The
words of the finest airs were often ridiculous enough, like
the following : —
" Mourir n'est rien, c'est notre derniere heure."
:Tis ow last hour — a fine motive of consolation truly —
while death is really something, because it is vur last hour.
Sedaine has written hundreds of verses of the same stamp,
and when he wishes to be moral, is altogether unique —
witness one of his maxims, the truth of which is so simple
and incontestable : —
" Les peres seroient trop heureux
Si le ciel comblait tous leurs vosux."
But the music of Montigny does not allow one the smallest
opportunity of attending to this whimsical poetry. Ma-"
dame de Montesson took me several times to sup with the
Duchess of Mazarin, the most unfortunate lady in beauty,
in attempts at splendour and festivals, that was ever seen.
She was by far too fat to be agreeable ; but she was very
handsome, and had a brilliant complexior ; her colour was
thought to be too high, and the Marechale de Luxembourg
said, that her freshness was not that of the rose, but the
freshness of butcher's meat. The saying was cruel, but it
took effect, and freshness was thenceforth dishonoured.

MADAME DE GENUS. 229
It was said that the fairy Guignon Guignolant presided at
the birth of the Duchess of Mazarin. In fact she was very
fair and very handsome, and yet she pleased no one. She
had splendid diamonds, and when she wore thern she was
said to be like a lustre. Her suppers were the best in
Paris, yet they were ridiculed because the dishes were
somewhat disguised. She was polite and obliging, and was
said to be of a bad disposition. She was witty, and many
of her bon mots were repeated, and yet she was constantly
doing and saying the most ill-timed things in the world.
Her pride was great, and she was reckoned to be avaricious ;
she gave the most splendid fetes, and something ridiculous
always happened in them : in a word, complete success in
any one thing she never could obtain. One day during
winter, she conceived the idea of giving a fete champetre
at her splendid mansion in Paris. She assembled an im
mense crowd in her salon, then just decore, and dazzling
with mirrors, which covered the walls of the apartment from
the ceiling to the floor. At the extremity of the salon was a
cabinet full of leaves and flowers, and on opening a gate a
transparency was to appear, showing a real flock of sheep,
very white and well washed, defiling in the woodland, and led
by a shepherdess, a dancer from the Opera. Whilst this in
genious scene was preparing, and the company were dan
cing in the salon, the imprisoned sheep escaped, it is not
known how, and without dog or shepherdess suddenly burst
into the salon, dispersed the dancers, and began butting
their heads against the mirrors : the leaps and bleatings of
the frightened flock, the noise they made in breaking the
mirrors to pieces, the cries and flight of the women, the
roars of laughter from the dancers, formed a much more
amusing scene than that of the pastoral, which the company
lost by this accident. For my part I found her a very
good kind of woman, for she was fat and given to laughter;
and according to this way of judging (which I still preserve)
Madame d'Husson, the si6ter-in-law of M. de Donezan,
seemed to me the best lady in the world, and assuredly I was

230 MEMOIRS OF
much mistaken in thinking so. Madame d'Husson was then
at least forty years old, was handsome and always present
ed a fair conduct and an irreproachable character, though
the reverse is stated in a libellous publication that was once
popular, the Courier de PEurope. Madame d'Husson had
a look of the most perfect simplicity ; yet I believe there
never existed a person more given to evil speaking, not
from malicious intent, but merely to supply, topics of con
versation, to form the subject of a good tale, to amuse
others by ridicule, or to interest strangers by scandal.
Amongst the company she saw, she tried only to discover
their faults ; if they had none, she declared them to be in
sipid, were they the cleverest people in the world. In
. other respects, she was obliging, kind, good humoured, and
very lively in conversation. Yet it is not less true, that
nobody ever spread abroad so many malignant anecdotes, or
repeated so many injurious stories. Madame de Sevigne,
with her usual grace, says in her letters, that she has
always laughed at what is called bons fonds (good sort of
persons) to excuse those who raise up false and malicious
reports. She is very right, if it be possible to be constantly
ridiculing others and backbiting without malice, at any
rate, the individual must be totally devoid of reflection and
common feeling. Madame d'Husson was witty and agreea
ble, and preferred this odious means of pleasing, or rather
of amusing others, for she had more worthy objects of ambi
tion at her choice — but what was the result 1 With a per
fectly correct personal conduct, with beauty, accomplish
ments, and a handsome fortune, Madame d'Husson was not
esteemed ; she had many enemies, and was entirely forgot
ten in her old age, without ever having been the object of
affection. I cannot reproach mysejf with ever having repeated or
said a word which hurt the reputation of those I esteemed
the least, nor with acting like so many others, in spreading
epigrams and satirical verses ; in society I have invariably
shown the highest contempt for such subjects, and great.

Madame de genus. 231
unbelief respecting tales of scandal. My aunt always gave
me this good example, and assisted in strengthening my
aversion to an opposite line of conduct. She was nowise
given to evil speaking. She told me (and the thought was
full of wisdom) that independent of all principle, evil speak
ing always s/poils the manners of a woman. The saying
merits being preserved. I am indebted to my aunt for an
excellent rule of conduct, and I shall mention it here. A
short time after my first appearance in society, while speak
ing of confidential communications, (mes petites confidences,)
she told me, that a lady desirous of taking away all hope
from a man in love with her, should never write to him ; that
in a case of this kind, the harshest lefter is always a false
step, and often an act of high imprudence. On this subject
she gave me very delicate, just and sensible advice. These
are the only directions she gave me — she ought to have
given me others, more useful, for 1 would have followed
them ! but she did not ! . . .
Not to appear better than I am, I must admit that I have
often been given to ridicule others, but I have never ridicu
led any thing but arrogance, folly, and pedantry. I was
never in my life tempted to laugh at ignorance, or awkward
ness ; on the contrary, when I saw these failings in others, I
always felt for them.
During this winter, I several times went with Madame de
Puisieux into a variety of companies, amongst others, into
that at the house of the Countess de Brione, who still retain
ed proofs of her renowned beauty ; she had the figure of
Minerva, which perhaps might be admired, but which
never could have been agreeable.
Madame de Brione was highly acomplished, with man
ners full of dignity and mildness. The most remarkable
person in the society of Madame de Puisieux and the Mare
chale d'Estree, was the Due d'Harcourt, brother of the
Marquis de Beuvron ; he was talented, worthy, and good-
natured. He was the only man that I ever knew, who,
after obtaining the greatest success with women, still pre-

.232 MEMOIRS OF
served the utmost simplicity in his manners and conversa
tion. I likewise frequently supped with Prince Louis de
Rohan, afterward the too famous Cardinal de Rohan ;
though not a very useful clergyman, he was very hand
some, and was gay, and graceful in his manners ; his con
versation was amusing, but so full of frivolity and thought
lessness, that it was extremely difficult to judge of the
qualities of his mind. All that we knew of it was this, that
no one endowed with small judgment, could have more
agreeable manners.
I every where met with the younger Madame de Segur,
so called, to distinguish her from her mother-in-law. Ma
dame de Segur was then two or three and thirty years of
age ; her face Was not pretty, but her teeth were very fine ;
her look mild, her shape charming, and there' was great ele
gance in her carriage and in her dress. Sweetness and
goodnature were the chief features in her disposition ; she
was universally beloved, and deserved to be so. Her hus
band M. de Segur, (afterward a minister of state and a
marshal of France,) who had lost an arm at , the battle of
Minden, was one of the best of men, and most excellent
company ; he was fond of me from my childhood, often gave
me useful advice, and when he was minister, immediately
granted my mother the pension which I asked for her as
widow of a lieutenant-general of the king's armies — her se
cond husband, the Baron d'Andlau. The memory of M. de
Segur will always be dear to me. His mother, a natural
daughter of the regent, (Duke of Orleans,) was at that time
very aged, but possessed charming wit and gayety, was
very fond of young ladies, and was beloved by them for her
lively and amusing conversation.
Though I am naturally inclined to think well of others,
and am of a goodnatured disposition, yet there were two
persons in society at that time for whom I felt a decided an
tipathy. One was the Comte de Coigny, brother of the duke
and chevalier of that name : he followed me wherever I
went, and the more I saw him, I detested him more and

MADAME. DE GEiSUlS. US
move. His face might be reckoned handsome, if any face
can be so with wide nostrils, and an illnatured look ; his
eyes were fixed, inquisitive, and prying — such a look I have
always detested. A look that seems to pry into your soul,
naturally excites fear and distrust, even when you have
nothing to conceal. The Comte de Coigny had what is called
a fine carnation, (complexion,) and his healthy colour, along
with the roughness of his look, gave him, in my eyes, the
appearance of a man who blushes from rage. He was not
deficient in wit, but it was well suited to his disposition, dry,
satirical, and severe. The Comte de Coigny became my
enemy, and 1 gained this advantage at least, that I met him
much less frequently. The other person whose disposition
was repulsive to me, was Madame de Cambis, the sister of
the Prince de Chimay and Madame de Caraman ; she was
four or five and thirty years of age, and full of affectation.
She was strongly marked with the smallpox, her features
were common, her height good, with the most disdainful
and impertinent carriage that any one ever dared to assume
in society. Her friends said that she was very witty, and
that she made the most ingenious bon mots. One of them
was the following : somebody praising my liveliness in her
presence, she replied, " Yes, a gayety of pretty teeth," (une
gaiete de joilies dents ;) as much as to say, that I laughed
only to show my teeth, a supposition highly unjust, for I
never had the slightest affectation, and that was One of the
most disagreeable any one could have. Madame de Cam
bis^ wrote, it is said, very pretty verses ; but I never knew
any thing of her composition, except two verses she made
on my aunt and the Due de Guines, and they were very
illnatured, very insipid, badly rhymed, and badly ex-r
pressed. I became acquainted with a lady very remarkable for her
talents and charming disposition, the Countess de la Marck,
sister of the Duke of Noailles ; she was old and religious,
but never did piety appear in a more lovely form. At her
house, I saw the beautiful Madame de Newkerque, after-
30

234 MEMOIRS OF
ward Madame de Champcenetz ;* her beauty was on the
wane, but she was still charming. It might be said of her
what Madame de Sevigne said of Madame Dufresnoy, the
mistress of M. de Louvois, " that she was concentrated in
her beauty," (toute recueillie dans sa beaute.) It was too
^evident that she thought of nothing but showing her little
feet, her pretty hands, and of attitudinizing — if she had pos
sessed particularly handsome teeth, she would have had the
gayety des jolies dents. There were some very handsome
women at court at this time ; amongst others, the Viscountess
de Laval, and the Countess Jules, afterward Duchess of
Polignac. The shape of the latter was bad, straight but
Small, without elegance or delicacy ; her face would, have
been faultless, had her forehead been good, but it was large,
ill-shaped, and rather dark, though the rest of her face was
very fair. When the fashion came in of letting the hair fall
down over the forehead, almost as low as the eye-brows, her
face was really enchanting ; there was such a pleasing frank
ness as well as humour in her expression, and her look and
smile were altogether angelic. The portraits of her which
are extant, are very ugly, and give not the slightest idea of
her charming face. She was of a sweet and goodnatured
disposition, of simple, and consequently agreeable manners,
and the favour she enjoyed afterward never in the least al
tered her demeanour. She was said to be without talent ;
in the intercourse of society I found her neither silly nor
incapable.! * Madame de Newkerque, so long famous for her beauty, was first known
by the name of Madame Pater ; she was near marrying M. de Lambesc,
who was much younger than her, and finally gave her hand to the Marquis
de Champcenetz. It is said that she had such an intimate connexion with
Louis XV. in the latter years of his reign, that she at one time enjoyed the
hope of playing the same part as Madame de Maintenon did at the court of
Louis XIV.
t Madame de Polignac, governess of the children of France, died in Rus
sia, towards the end of 1793, at the age of forty-four. The unfortunate
Marie Antoinette paid her the most affecting eulogium,'by saying, When
alone with her, I am no longerqueen; I ammyself. — (Editor.)

MADAME DE GENLIS. 235
The Princess of Monaco was then thirty-two years of
age; she still looked handsome, principally from her fine
complexion ; but her face was too wide, and her features
heavy. One of the finest young ladies of the time was Ma
dame de Marigny, the wife of the brother of the favourite,
Madame de Pompadour. She was introduced into society
under the auspices of Madame de Serrant, whose husband
had been governor of the pages of the Duke of Orleans.
There was a rough expression in her face, and something
common in her shape, as well as in her whole person ; her
language was also vulgar and affected ; yet she was a woman
of talent.
I believe it was this year that the King of Denmark visit
ed France.* 1 went to almost all the fetes that were given
to him, and these were of the most magnificent kind. All
the ladies were covered with diamonds ; those who had none
borrowed them, or hired them from the jewellers. I never
* Madame de Mazarin gave him a fete, in which her never-failing ill luck
attended her. It was known that the king had loudly praised the perform
ance of Carlin, of the Italian Opera, and the finest harlequin ever seen ;
and Madame de Mazarin thought of having a play, from the Italian theatre,
performed a^ier house, which the king was unacquainted with. The name
of the play was, Arlequin barbier, paralytique. The day of the fete, after
a fine concert, the duchess led the king into the hall, where a fine, theatre
had been constructed. The king placed Madame de Mazarin beside him,
and the play began. The king knew French but very imperfectly : and at
the festivals given in honour of him hitherto, all the dramatic performances
had commenced with prologues written in his praise, and in which the al
lusions were strongly applauded. He took the play of Arlequin barbier, pa
ralytique, for one of those prologues, and at every mark of applause, excited
by the performance of Carlin, he bowed low, and in the most modest and
grateful manner, returned thanks to Madame de Mazarin for her attentions,
saying over and over again, that she was too good, that he was confused by
her kindness, that he did not merit such delicate praise, &c. The embar
rassment of the duchess was inexpressible, and she knew not what to an
swer, as she dared not undeceive him : she was completely wretched du
ring the whole performance. Her troubles were not ended with the play,
for the king, after his return to the drawing-room, again returned her thanks,
in the presence of all, and expatiated fully on the wit and grace of the al
lusions, and on the kindly disposition of the spectators, who had so loudly
applauded them. — (Note by the Author.)

* ?

236 M£M01RS OF
saw so many diamonds at one time, particularly at the fete
given by the Due de Villars, and at that of the Palais
Royal. At the latter, there were more than twenty ladies
whose dresses were trimmed with them. A singular incident
relating to this happened to Madame de Berchini. She had
a great many diamonds, all borrowed, and amongst the rest,
an enormous quantity of chatons, large and small. These
were diamonds set close to each other, but so detached as
to be threaded in the setting under them ; they were then
put as a border to ribbons, or formed into necklaces with
double rows. In her way to the supper-room, amidst a crowd
of ladies, Madame de Berchini did her best to restrain an
unlucky fit of sneezing, with which she was attacked ; she
burst her necklace, and though she caught a few of the cha
tons, the greater part fell on the floor, and were swept along
by the majestic trains of the dresses and dominos. It was
impossible to stop for a moment to pick up the scattered
diamonds ; she was obliged to follow the procession, at the
head of which were the King of Denmark and the Duke of
Orleans. Poor Madame de Berchini, whose fortune was
very small, was wretched at the thought of having to buy
diamonds instead of those she had lost; and her misfortune
became the subject of conversation during supper. The
Duke of Orleans gave orders that a search should be made
for the diamonds ; and five or six were brought, but the
greater part were missing. The duke promised that early
next morning a very careful search should be made ; but
Madame de Berchini had no hopes from the measure, and
went away cursing the ball, and all that belonged to it. When
she rose next morning, one of the domestics of the Palais
Royal brought herall the chatons found in the gallery, the
three anti-chataibers, and the dining-room; and she found
not only all she lost, but seven small chatons besides, that
other ladies had lost, and that were never claimed, though
for mote than eight days she related this generous restitution
to every one she met.
I had now taken my eldest daughter from nurse, and

MADAME DE GENLIS. 237
kept her at home ; she delighted me by her beauty, sweet
ness, and charming ways. I went daily to see her asleep
in her cradle. There I enjoyed the sweetest meditations I
ever made in my life, and formed the most beautiful pictures
of imagination ; of these she was always the heroine. How
many thoughts one has lost at the end of a long life, a
thousand times more worthy of preservation than those
that have been committed to writing ? How cold are the
ideas Galmly formed, compared to those inspired by the
heart alone ! Eloquence is only fitted to make others en
joy our thoughts and feelings ; but it is an art, and the ap
plication it requires always cools down all that we experi
ence. In a long reverie, caused by a profound and legiti
mate feeling, the heart only acts ; we are inspired solely by
that divine aspiration, that will never die ; we are animated
solely by a portion of the supreme intelligence ; within
ourselves, the notion of the language of men is gradually
effaced, and finally disappears — all our thoughts are chan
ged into vivid images and deep-felt emotions — and to reduce
them into words arid sentences, they must be transformed,
— and how many are there which it would be impossible to
find terms to express ! — Do the blessed converse in hea
ven ? I cannot think it. There all is infinite, .every feeling
is unbounded ; the praises of the Eternal are only the per
fect agreement of the divine and supreme harmony ; that
of terrestrial music is formed of three sounds given by na
ture ; (each sonorous sound contains them;) that of heaven
is formed by three sentiments, .which are mingled and con
founded, and, like the Trinity, form but one — love, grati
tude, and admiration, carried to an extreme pitch, of which
our most ardent enthusiasm can form no idea. That is the
celestial eoncord — 4t is all expressive. That is the immor
tal language of the angels, and of the elect ; that is the
mark of happiness for eternity !  ^Here I am far removed
from the earth ; — but I write these memoirs rapidly and care
lessly, just as the ideas rise in my imagination : in reading
them it must not be forgotten that this is not a literary work.

'238 MEMOIRS OF
At the end of winter my grandmother died ; not only did
she not leave me a single token of remembrance in her will,
but she carried to the tomb the just rights of my mother.
M. de Montesson died a short time afterward. He was of
the most extraordinary size ever seen. He always seemed'
to me a very good kind of man, though my aunt amused us
by relating innumerable instances of his avaricious disposi
tion, amongst the rest, that at her fete, and on New Year's
Day, his only gallantry consisted in giving her a quarter's
pin-money in advance. In other respects he kept an excel
lent house, and was not troublesome in it, for he only ap
peared at meals, scarcely ever spoke, and withdrew imme
diately afterward. He gave my aunt four horses, of which
she had the sole disposal, and he left her the most full and
perfect liberty. He was seventy-eight years of age, with
eighty thousand livres a year, when my aunt, in her nine
teenth year, preferred him to every other man. During his
illness, which lasted eight days, my aunt paid him the ut
most attention, but it was all fruitless ; he was ninety years
of age, and quietly but religiously breathed his last. I did
not leave my aunt during the whole of this time, and the
three last days f slept in her bed. During these eight days
I saw a lady who really was not of this earth, but who, from
her earliest infancy, had elevated herself to heaven.; this
was the sister of M. de Montesson. She was then seventy-
two years of age, and must have been very beautiful, for
she was still handsome, with delicate features, and a most
wonderfully fair complexion • for her age. She never wished
to marry ; by a sublime vocation, she had, at the age of
twelve years, consecrated all her possessions to the poor ;
when she became of age, she had thirty-six thousand francs
a year, and of this she reserved twelve hundred for herself,
and gave away all the rest. She had only two rooms to live
in, on the third floor, and kept only a servant girl ; she never
went out but to go to church, to visit the unfortunate, prison
ers, or the sick. She was commonly on foot, or, if it rained,
took a chair. As she never paid visits, 1 only knew her by

MADAME DE GENLIS.. 239
reputation, but my aunt had mentioned her to me a thousand
times with high veneration. During the eight days of her
brother's illness, she passed all her time with us, and I was
never weary in regarding her. She was highly agreeable,
and I saw something tender in her look and manners ; she
found that I loved her, (for can we highly revere without
affection ?) and was greatly affected ; she pressed my hand,
I kissed hers — I would have kissed her feet. When I asked
her one day, why she had not become a nun, she replied, —
Because I am fond of prisons ; this answer made me smile,
and filled me with admiration. 1 saw that she had pre
served her freedom, for the purpose of consoling those who
were deprived of it, or to procure their liberation. Every
pious soul has its peculiar vocation ; it is a celestial inspira
tion, which no individual, no government, should oppose.
The night before the death of M. de Montesson, he
seemed so calm, that my aunt and I went to bed at ten
o'clock, as we had been up all the preceding night ; we left
along with him a priest, his nurse, and M. de Genlis, who
perceived that he had not many hours to live. Being great
ly fatigued, my aunt fell asleep the moment she got into bed.
A sort of terror kept me awake ; we were directly over the
dying man's room, and every noise I heard made me trem
ble ; I now and then crossed my hand over my aunt's face,
and asked her if she were asleep, which she thought very
teasing. At last, at a quarter to one o'clock, I heard a great
noise in the house, the room door opens, and we see M. de
Genlis appear, who at once informs my aunt, that she is a
widow. He at the same time gives her notice, that the
heirs, aware that M. de Montesson would not survive that
night, had placed lawyers in waiting round the house, who had
already learned his decease, and were about to seal up every
thing— that in fact they were now in the dead man's apart
ment. M. de Genlis requested my aunt to rise immediate
ly, but told me to remain in bed, as the legal forms would not
take up much time ; my aunt rose in haste, put on a gown;

>40 MEMOIRS OF
while 1 remained in bed, only opening the curtains a little to
see what was going on. The commissaire, in a large black
robe, enters the room with two or three men, and puts on
the seals ; at the very moment they were concluding, my
aunt and M. de Genlis went into another apartment, and I
began to be a Uttle troubled with the fear of being left alone
in this vast chamber ; but when the assistants of the com
missaire suddenly leave it, and the commissaire himself is
about to follow, I become desperately afraid, jump out of
bed, lay hold of his robe, and scream out Monsieur le Com
missaire, do not abandon me ! In a moment I was confound
ed at being in my shift, but I instantly folded myself in the
long train of the commissaire, who had not observed me till
now, and was terribly afraid ; he thought I was a mad
woman, and he had cause to think so. M. de Genlis,- my
aunt, and every one in the house hastened towards the room,
and on seeing my singular plight, burst into a loud fit of
laughter — never were things sealed up so gayly. I put on
my dress while wrapped up in the cloak of the commissaire,
for I would not come out of it till I got a petticoat and gown.
Some time afterward, M. de Thiars made a very pretty
song about this adventure.
We set out for Vincennes, where we spent ten days with
my grand-aunt, Mademoiselle Dessaleux, who, after my
grandmother's death, had obtained large and magnificent
apartments in the castle. The Duke of Orleans came to
Vincennes to see my aunt, but I perceived a slight shade of
coolness in his manner, which evidently did not escape her
notice. I believe that he was .afraid of her schemes after
the death of M. de Montesson, and she herself was con
vinced that some one had warned him to beware of her am
bitious views. As she had nobody here with whom she
could talk of her conjectures, she at last made me her con
fidant, but, in her usual way, trying to deceive me as to a
thousand circumstances. Since I had read Mariane I per
fectly knew her mind, and was nowise her dupe. When
once we have the key of factitious characters, with very

MADAME DE GENUS. 241
little talent we can find out their views more easily than
those of others, for with them every thing is a matter
of calculation : to ascertain their intentions, we have only
to think of the interests that occupy their minds. My aunt
assured me that she was totally devoid of ambition, and was
anxious for nothing but quiet and independence ; that being
young, possessed of an agreeable rank in society, and of
forty thousand livres a year,1 were she, with her disposition,
to commit the folly of marrying again, all the sacrifices
would be on her side, and she would never make such
enormous sacrifices but to a very strong passion, or to
snatch from the depths of despair an honourable man,
whose previous constancy she had perfectly experienced.
Such was exactly her language. From all her rambling
talk, I could only obtain the assurance that she was firmly
resolved to try every thing, and to execute every thing in
her power for the purpose of marrying the Duke of Or
leans. She spoke with great spite of the embarrassed air
he had shown ; "I am sure," said she, "that some one at
the Palais Royal is trying to keep him from me — I suspect
Madame de Barbantane and M. de Pont (she was not mis
taken) — I am supposed to have plans which I am incapable
of forming. All these people would have been delighted
at seeing me his mistress, that was better than Marquise ;
but they cannot bear the idea of seeing me at an elevation
that would put them all in my dependance — yet they wit
nessed the frankness of my Conduct towards the Duke of
Orleans, and that I did not conceal from him my sentiment
for the Due de Guines,* — if that has not cured him, it is
not my fault. Finally, I will prove that I have no designs
on him — I will give him up to his own management — I am
going to Barrege."
In thus forming her resolution, my aunt imagined that the
Duke of Orleans could not bear her absence, that the

* Because it was impossible to deny it, the thing was so universally
known. — (Note of the Author.) 31

242 MEMOIRS OF
trial would teach him that he could not do without her ;
and that finally, she could say on her return, that she was
altogether cured of her unfortunate passion. In all this
scheming, my aunt ran much greater risks than she imagi
ned ; and in the result she was more fortunate than skilful.
Nothing could be more ridiculous than the way in which
she talked to me of the whole of this business. With any
other confidant she would have employed infinitely more
cunning, but to me she spoke nearly as openly as if she had
been alone, with the exception of two or three phrases de
clarative of her being without schemes or ambition. In
other respects, she showed me all her ill-will against the
persons she imagined opposed Ao her views ; and did not
take the trouble of concealing her anxiety and agitation.
She did not find me devoid of sense ; but without reflecting
that I had been married at seventeen, and was now twenty-
two, she saw nothing in me but my childish liveliness of
mind, my simplicity in several ways, my appearance, that
was more girlish than my age, my timidity in high circles,
my wild gayety when at my ease, my fear of ghosts-1- in a
word, she considered me only as a pretty child, an Agnes a
little altered in manners by intercourse with society. As
she never read herself, she asked me no questions about
my studies, and I never said a word to her on the subject.
Thus she could form no idea of the knowledge I might have
acquired. She knew only that I had written songs at Sil
lery, and that I was acquainted with the rules of poetry,
but she held this kind, of succis de societe in little esteem.
We returned to Paris, whence she was to set out for
Barrege. The simplicity of my manners led my aunt to make me a
constant witness of her artifices, which were sometimes of
the most refined, sometimes of the most childish kind.
One of the latter amused me too much for me ever to for
get the slightest particular connected with it. She was
trying to convince the Duke of Orleans that her unfortunate
sentiment deprived her of sleep and appetite, that she could

MADAME DE GENLIS. 243
no longer either eat or sleep. In his presence she was
certainly rigorously abstemious — but she made amends in
his absence. It is true, that she never sat down to table in
her own house; but though she had no regular formal
meals, she partook of food five or six times a day. One
evening that I was with her, whilst we were certainly not
expecting the duke, Mademoiselle Legrand, her waiting-
maid, entered the room with a large silver porringer, hold
ing some roast meat prepared with wine. In a careless
and unwilling manner my aunt put the porringer on her
lap, and by an effort of reason began to eat the roast meat,
not a third of which remained when a carriage was heard
entering the court. I hastened to the window, and said
that it was the Duke of Orleans. My aunt rung the bell
with violence, but Mademoiselle Legrand did not hurry
herself, and when she came, said, that the duke was imme
diately behind her. My aunt thinks of nothing but of get
ting rid of the remains of the rotie, hastily orders it to be
taken away, and then, thinking the servants would meet the
duke, she calls back Mademoiselle Legrand, and sharply
bids her put the fatal porringer, cover and all, under the
bed. She is obeyed ; but at the same moment, the folding-
door opens wide and the duke appears. He perceived the
odour of the wine, and my aunt admitted that she .had ta
ken a small spoonful of it. Her worn out and languid look
during the visit so inclined me to laughter, that I had great
difficulty in restraining myself. Such is the excessive
abasement and childishness to which people of talent may
be led by ambitious schemes when they consider these
means useful to their advancement.
My aunt wished to keep me with her till she set out for
Barrege. She gave me the apartment of M. de Montesson,
and told me that my waiting-maid should have a mattress
placed beside my bed. This was in the beginning of April,
and M. de Genlis had just set out to join his regiment. We
returned from Vincennes at night. My aunt wished immedi
ately to put me in possession of my apartment, which was

:244 MEMOIRS OF
on the ground floor. She asked me if I was afraid ; I said
that I "was not, and to show my courage, I told her she had
only, to follow me, for I would go in first, and without a light.
The footman was behind me with two lights, and I advan
ced boldly into the open antichamber, but scarcely had I
put one foot in, than I leaped back with a frightful scream,
for I had felt distinctly a large, cold and bony hand spread
against my face, and pushing me back. I almost swooned
away in the arms of my aunt, who was greatly frightened
at my dreadful agitation. She saw that something very
strange must have happened, and inquired what it was. I
told her, with trembling accents, that a skeleton hand had
pushed me back. The footman entered with the lights,
and immediately saw the cause of the pretended prodigy.
It was a withered orange tree, that had been placed near
the door, and one of the branches, stiff and dry, spread it
self out before the door so as to come against my face. To
the touch this branch really produced the illusion of a ske
leton hand. Every one tried it and they admitted that in a
dead man's apartment, a person possessed with the fear of
ghosts, would be as much terrified at this branch pressing
against him as by the most horrible apparition.
My aunt set out for Barrege, but informed me that the
Duke of Orleans would often come to see me till Madame
de Puisieux took me to Sillery, and added, that at his
age, and with his well-known attachment for her, there
was nothing wrong in me receiving him. He had never
come to my house but once, at my last confinement, and
then he came with the prince his son. My aunt desired
me to speak often to him about her, and to mention all
our conversations in my letters. She again said that she
wished he were quickly cured of his passion, if he were not
such as he had first imagined, for it was terrible to afflict one's-
self so much as she did for troubles that perhaps were imagi
nary after all. I asked her what she would do if the pas
sion were incurable. " Ah!" said she, "who can foresee?

MADAME DE GENLIS. 245
I only know that my fate will be altered." 1 knew what
that meant, and promised to follow her intention, by rela
ting the whole to the Duke of Orleans, for she had allowed
me to tell him frankly the state of her heart. I was desirous
that all these manoeuvres might be successful, first, because I
knew that it was my aunt's ardent wish ; secondly, because
I was not indifferent to the pleasure of having an aunt mar
ried to a prince of the blood ; and lastly, because I was
proud of being in some sort a negotiator in the business,
at least during my aunt's absence at Barrege.
I returned with great joy to my house in the Rue Saint
Dominique, where I found my charming Caroline, whom I
left to my mother's care, during my absence. The Duke of
Orleans came to see me the day after my aunt's departure*
I felt pretty well at my ease, because I had constantly seen
him at my aunt's, but he had never heard me converse, and
only knowing me by her account, he considered me a lively,
open-hearted, and agreeable young woman, but totally in
capable of observation or reflection. For my own part, the
idea of these private conversations rather embarrassed me ;
I was not very sure how I should succeed. His first address
made me smile, for he brought me a great quantity of sugar-
candy of Fontainebleau, and told me that he remembered I
had often asked him for some. However, in about a quar
ter of an hour's time; he remembered that he was afflicted
by my aunt's departure, and spoke much about her, but I
did not perceive any very lively passion in his heart, nor
even a real attachment. His visit lasted only three quarters
of an hour, and on leaving me, he said he would return in
two days. His second visit was spirited ; we first talked of
my aunt ; I praised her attachment to him, and he listened
to me with a look of surprise at hearing me reason so seri
ously. I talked alone for a long time, and in such a roman
tic style as seemed altogether wonderful to him. At last I
stopped to receive his compliments on my eloquence. He
then told me, with a mournful look, that he had never been
loved for himself. I was greatly surprised at this, but he

246 • MEMOIRS OF
often repeated it afterward. I opposed his notion, but made
no great impression. He gradually changed the subject of
conversation, and all at once began to relate to me his good
fortune with the ladies ; but his stories were always jumbled
with the adventures of the Baron de Bezenval. His details,
though very decorous in language, were horribly full of
scandal, and were told with such simplicity, that I listened to
them with great curiosity, unmixed with embarrassment. I
am certain that the whole was true, for it was not boasting,
but merely talkativeness and indiscretion. My astonishment
was expressed in my looks, and highly diverted the duke ; I
must confess that I even asked the names of the parties, and,
after promising secrecy, (which I have never broken,) the
whole was confided to me. It may be necessary to state that
all the heroines of these stories were women of very bad
character, and that there were some of them even who had
been hooted out of good company ; but still there were a
few to be met with at court and in society.
During a month, the duke regularly returned every two
or three days to refresh my memory with these topics, and
at last had such confidence in me, that he told me all his
troublesome adventures with the late duchess. At the age
of nineteen he had married her for love, and their love was
mutual and unbounded till the birth of his son, which for a
time seemed still to add to its force. She even displayed
so little modesty in the violence of her affection, that the
Duchesse de Tollard said — " That she had succeeded in
rendering the marriage union indecent." Hitherto the
Duchess of Orleans had been the most loving and irreproach
able wife imaginable; but, all of a sudden, she desired the
duke to give her all the letters she had written to him, which
were all equally tender. She wished, she said, to have the
pleasure of reading them over with the answers, which she
carefully preserved. The duke gave them, but desired her
to take great care of them, and return them quickly ; but
her only object in asking for them was to destroy the whole,
for her heart was changed, and she wished to annihilate the

MADAME DE GENLIS. 247
proofs of a sentiment which no longer survived. In this
retrogade inconstancy, desirous of destroying the remnants
of the past, in this shame of a legitimate attachment, and in
the whole of this proceeding, there was such a combination
of perfidiousness and depravity, that I was more struck with
it than by the recital of his adventures. The duke likewise
told me how he had become in love with my aunt, which
was more singular than romantic. He told me that he found
her charming, but they -were- very eeremonious in their in
tercourse ; and far from being in love with her, his mind
was then occupied with another lady, — that was at the time
of his first journey to Villers-Coterets. One day, while
deer hunting in the forest, Madame de Montesson was on
horseback, and the duke happened to be close beside her at
the very moment that the chase had become confused, and
when the other lady, who was likewise on horseback, was
far off in another avenue. One of the huntsmen proposed
to the duke to wait there a few minutes, whilst he went for
ward to learn what had become of the stag and the hounds ;
he agreed, and dismounting from his horse at the same time
with my aunt, went to sit down in a pretty little spot under
the shade. The duke was fat, and the weather sultry ; being
excessively tired, and in the most violent perspiration, he re
quested the liberty of taking off his neckcloth, unbuttoned
his coat, stretched himself, puffed and breathed in such an
unceremonious and ludicrous manner, that my aunt burst out
into a fit of laughter, and called him a gros pere with such a
charming liveliness and gayety, that his heart was instantly
taken by surprise, and he became in love with her. Nothing
produces a more certain effect on princes than unexpected
familiarity, gracefully succeeding respectful and reserved
demeanour in their presence. This rise of a great passion
was not less singular, however. The manner certainly did
not belong to the age of Louis XIV., but taste had at this
period lost much of its purity and elegance.
The letters of the Duke of Orleans to my aunt during her
journey, were not at all satisfactory; one of them so dis-

248 MEMOIRS OF
pleased her, that she wrote to me that she saw clearly he had
none of the sentiments with which she thought him inspired.
In this letter she could not conceal her spite ; and in speak
ing: of the duke, called him that light man (cet homme leger —
inconsiderate. ) I could not help laughing at the expression,
so inappropriate, whether we consider his mental or his phy
sical qualities. The duke treated a love affair as an amuse
ment, and never was the first to break it off. As long as the
lady was near him, or listening toJiis conversation, he was
constant ; in fact, he was in love like a good soldier at his
post, who never leaves it but when dismissed; so when
there was no post, he entered into another service without
chagrin or regret. He was never truly in love in the whole
course of his life. If, at the time I am speaking of, an agree
able woman had been desirous of occupying the vacant
place, nothing could have been easier. I wrote to my aunt
to tell her that she was still adored, and to press her to hasten
her return. She followed my advice.
During more than a month, I received regular visits from
the duke. In this interval, there was a fete at court, a grand
masked ball, but I forget the occasion of it. The duke re
quested me to get Madame de Puisieux to take me to it,
where he agreed to meet me. I never saw such a large
company as at this ball. I went in a dress domino, with only
a small mask, (called a loup,) that concealed nothing but my
eyes and nose. Besides myself, Madame de Puisieux took
with her, her niece, Madame de St. Chamand and the Mar
quis de Bouzoles, to give us his arm. We sat down on a
bench in the least crowded room we could find. In half an
hour the duke arrived, concealed in a mask and domino ; it
was not difficult to recognize him, for he looked like a huge
tower. He offered to take me into the other rooms, and
promised to bring me back in an hour. 1 put myself under
his protection, and while we were moving forward, one of
the masqueraders turned towards him, and exclaimed, Make
room for the cathedral of Rheims, which made every one
laugh, even the duke himself, who said, that such a respect-

MADAME DE GENLIS, 249
able similitude was excellent in so great a crowd. We passed
through two large rooms without accident, but about the
middle of the third, immediately adjoining that in which was
the royal family, I was suddenly snatched from the duke's
arm. I was pulled backwards and forwards, according to
the current, for many were going back ; I was pushed for
wards, driven back, squeezed, and lifted off my feet. In
this crisis, I looked around me for the duke, but I had quite
lost sight of him, and my fear was extreme, when all at once,
a person in a blue domino, very tall and thin, pushed every
one aside, flew towards me, and laying hold of me as if I had
been a puppet, pulled me away with the most violent im
petuosity, and finally carried me into the royal apartment. I
had given up every idea of dancing or seeing sights. I
leaned against the wall* and felt extremely unwell. At last
I began to breathe freely, and to express my gratitude to my
liberator ; when he spoke, and I recognized my friend's
brother-in-law, the Viscount de Custine, only eight days re
turned from Corsica, (whither I had sent him, as I will men
tion in the sequel,) where he had shown the most distin
guished bravery. The moment at which this discovery was
made, was highly disagreeable to me, and I shall state my
reasons. It is the only incident of the kind that I shall re
late, but the story is too moral to be omitted ; and at any
rate, it will appear by the way in which it ended, that vanity
could not excite me to repeat the particulars. When I had
somewhat recovered from my fright, I requested to be led
back to Madame de Puisieux, but we did not return by the
way we came, as the viscount took me round by private
passages. In them we found a very pretty lady from Bour-
d'eaux, named Madame Rousse de Corse, who had been car
ried out wounded and insensible ; as if from a field of bat
tle, from the horrible crowd we had traversed. The poor
lady- had fallen, and been trampled on ; she was in a most
pitiable state. A surgeon was sent for, and she was bled
on the spot. I shuddered when I looked at her, and great
ly pleased the viscount, who wished to prevent me stop-
32

250 MEMOIRS OF
ping, by telling him that I wished to look at all I had been
saved- from by his kindness.
The Duke of Orleans set out for Villers-Coterets on the
6fh of May, and a few days afterward Madame de Pui
sieux took me thither to spend a fortnight. We found a
large company collected ; amongst others, was the Mar
quise de Boufflers, mother of the celebrated Chevalier de
Boufflers ; she was witty abd satirical, but her daughter,
Madame, de Cusse, afterward called Madame de Boisgelin,
was neither the one nor the other, which seemed very sin
gular in such a family. The Count de Malllebois was like
wise of the party ; he was thought to be a man of talent ;
I never perceived it, but found him very tiresome. We had
M. de Castries, afterward Marshal of France} whose man
ners and conversation I greatly liked. His talents were
solid as well as agreeable ; his wish to please, mild, calm with
out pertness, or forwardness, unruffled by vanity, springing
solely frorii goodnature, and not from the self-love that wishes
to dazzle and to carry every thing before it. Another
guest, the Barori de Bezenval, whom I had already seen a
thousand times in society. He was of the same age as the
Duke of Orleans, but his person was still charriiing, and he
was a great favourite with the ladies. So excessively igno
rant was he, that he could scarcely write a card, yet he
had just that kinrtof talent necessary for telling trifles grace
fully and politely. He was Said to be bad hearted, he was
certainly thoughtless and dissipated; his demeanour was
pleasing, where his interest did not clash, and his conversa
tion sensible, when there was nobody present whom he
could ridicule ; to us, his frank ways, unaffected disposition,
and lively gayety, made him highly agreeable. The Mar
quis du Chatelet and his lady were likewise of the party.
The marchioness was one of the worthiest persons at court,
and the same may be said of her husband. If we had be
lieved the story told about his birth, we might have been
surprised at his mild disposition and not very bright mind ;
but his judgment was sound, his heart excellent, and the

MADAME DE GENLIS. 251
constancy of his friendship for the Due de Choiseul offered a
splendid example to the courtiers. Monsieur and Madame
de Vaupaliere were likewise at Villers-Coterets all the
time we remained. The husband would have been very
agreeable, had it not been for his propensity to play, which
formed not only his happiness, but sole occupation. He
would have disgusted our romantiques with reverie, of which
they are so fond ; he was much given to reverie, but he
thought only of play. His lady was charming, though more
than forty ; she had those graces that do not become old, an
unaffected disposition, lively wit, original character, and
the most even and agreeahle temper ever seen.
It was here that I learned all the advantage of having
for a mentor a person really desirous of displaying the ac
complishments of the lady she introduces into society. I
was highly successful, not only with my harp, singing, and
the making of proverbs, but I was much praised for my
talent and conversation, though they were both common
enough. When I wished to withdraw at eleven o'clock, as
usual, I was forcibly detained ; what I said was repeated
and praised, and words of it quoted next day, and most
commonly these pretended ban mots were not worth the
trouble. For this success I was wholly indebted to Ma
dame de Puisieux and the Duke of Orleans, who were
always talking of my agreeable ways. They would scarcely
let us go at the end of twelve days. I had often spoken to
the Duke of Orleans about my aunt, in our walks on the
terrace of the chateau of Villers-Coterets. I remarked
that a letter announcing her return in three weeks had
renewed his flame ; he was in love again, for fear of being
pouted ; he promised to write me, and kept his word.
On leaving Villers-Coterets, we did not go to Sillery, as
Madame de Puisieux wished to make me acquainted with
Vaudreuil, the finest estate in Normandy; or rather, she
wished to show me off in a castle where agreeable accom
plishments and fetes were esteemed, and with the society of
which I was not acquainted, because it was not one which

262 MpMOIRS OF
she generally frequented. We were to stay only eight days
at Vaudreuil, but we remained five weeks,' and they were
the pleasantest I ever spent in my life. The master of the
chdteau was the President Portal, an old gentleman, witty,
gay, and goodnatured. We found most excellent company,
fend of amusement, and, among the rest, a relation of the
president, formerly very celebrated for her beauty. She
was then fifty, her first husband was M. Amelot, minister of
foreign affairs ; when she became a widow, she swore that
she would preserve her freedom, and she kept it long ; at
. last she saw at Vaudreuil M. Damezague, fifteen years
younger than herself. She was so greatly prepossessed
against him, that she wished to leave the house the moment
he arrived ; but in eight days he was able to overcome all
her prepossessions, and to make her in love with him-^-
within that time the proud widow married him in the chapel
of the castle. They had been three years married, when
we found them at Vaudreuil, and they lived together like two
turtle-doves. Madame Damezague was extremely beau
tiful ; her husband was handsome, and one of .the tenderest
and most affectionate of partners. He had the most lively,
juvenile way I ever saw ; thought of nothing but amuse
ment, was always playing tricks or giving fetes, and had
always some plan of diversion in his mind. After a day
of the most delightful amusement, he would ask in the
evening — What shall we do tOf morrow morning ? It was
.¦necessary to tell him to keep him quiet ; without a fixed plan
of the kind, he could not have slept. Of the singular mar
riage of Madame Damezague, I formed the novel entitled Les
Preventions d'une Femme, which M. Radet has turned into
a very pretty vaudeville.
Amidst the gay society of Vaudreuil, I particularly re
marked a young lady, whose lovely form and pleasing
manners struck me with admiration. This was the Com-
tesse de Merode, (afterward Comtesse de Lannoy,) she was
three years older than me, with a most beautiful shape, a

MADAME DE GENLIS. 253
fine face, clever disposition, most lively imagination, and a
thousand engaging qualities. She inspired me with a strong
affection at first sight, and this I have always felt for every
person I ever loved. On her I produced the same effect,
and the same evening she took me to her room, where we
sat up together till three in the morning. It would seem
that such lively impressions, such quick friendships, would
belong only to the period of youth, yet Ihave always pre
served them! and never love any one for whom I do not
feel an immediate attachment. Next morning, M. Dame
zague came to ask us what we would do in the evening,
when I proposed to make proverbs, but he affirmed that no
one in the chateau could do them, and added, with a smile,
that I ought to make out one by myself to give them a lesson.
I answered that the thing was not impossible. I tried, and
invented my famous scene of La Cloison, which I perform
ed so .often afterward, and out of which I subsequently made
two little plays, that have been imitated on the stage, par
ticularly in Aucassin and Nicolette. My Gloison was so
successful, that it was played five pr six days successively ;
as an afterpiece we gave a burlesque song, very drolly given
by M. Damezague, with the accompaniment of my harp.
I formed a small company for the purpose of making up
proverbs, and Madame de Merode did great credit to my
lessons. We had charming walks and rides in the park,
which was of immense extent and admirable beauty. We
heard often of a neighbouring mountain called the Montagne
des deux Amans, famous for its immense height, extensive
prospect, the difficulty of ascending it, and, above all,
by the tradition that explains its title of the two lovers'1
mountain. The tale goes, that in old times, it was called
the inaccessible mountain, on account of the supposed im
possibility of reaching its summit. A young shepherd of
the valley could only obtain the hand of a girl with whom
he was in love, by carrying her thither on his shoulders ;
and this condition, it was thought, would put an end to the
connexion ; but love hesitates, at nothing, and the lovers

254 MEMOIRS OF
accepted the condition, to the great astonishment of the in
habitants of the valley. The lover places his beloved on
his shoulders, thinks he could carry her thus to the world's'
end, and that so sweet a load would reanimate him were
his strength to fail. He laughs at the mortal anxiety of his
relations and friends, sets out in triumph, and climbs the
mountain ; but, at the top of the highest ridge, while mak
ing the last step which raises him to the summit^he
breathes his last ! Such is the tradition, which looks like
an allegory ; for, in fact, does not love promise every thing,
undertake every ]thing, and,' having obtained every thing,
immediately expire ! — The tale adds, that the young girl, in
her despair, leaped into the river that flows at the foot of
the rugged mountain, which, henceforth, was called the
Montague des deux Amans. On this romantic foundation,
I wrote ou|t, in two days, a drama which I read to Madame
de Merode, the Comte de Caraman, (brother of the Mar
quis and nephew of President Portal,) and M. Damezague.
They found the play excellent, and we settled that it should
be performed; while M. de Caraman made a charming
little theatre be erected in the orangerie. In the mean
time, Madame de Merode and I determined on climbing the
mountain ; but as the president's postillion had broken his
leg on it only two months before, I knew that Madame de
Puisieux would be opposed to our undertaking, so we kept
it secret, and agreed to have it done before she rose in the
morning. The mountain is noways inaccessible, but only
very tedious and fatiguing to climb. We knew that there
was a hermitage on the top, so that we were very sure we
could do what had been done by hermits, or rather, by
monks, for it was a small convent. We rose at daylight,
and by five o'clock Madame de Merode, M. de Caraman,
M. Damezague and I had reached the foot of the mountain.
We were forced to stop half-way, for Madame de Merode,
not much accustomed to walking, was quite worn out. At
last we reached the top, and found some goodnatured
monks, who were delighted at seeing us, and who gave us

MADAME DE GENUS. 255
some goats' milk for breakfast, which we found delicious.
Their little convent was placed- amidst the table land of the
mountain, and was really charming. The most delightful
prospect was to be seen on every side. These pious her
mits still hovered over the world they had left — they only
saw on its surface its most virtuous features, the labours of
the fields. I envied their dwelling and their tranquillity ;
for even amidst the tumult of society and dissipation, I have
never, without the profoundest emotion, caught a glimpse
of unbroken solitude and uninterrupted repose. I did not
then foresee, that twenty years afterward, this convent
would be destroyed, and its virtuous inhabitants dispersed
— perhaps put to death !
The theatre was finished in a week, for the works were
carried on night and day, and decorations ready made were
brought from Rouen. I distributed the characters of my
play in the interval ; mine was that of an old enchanter,
two hundred yea'rs old, supposed to be placed on the inac
cessible mountain, where he was to remain until the arri
val of two perfect lovers, whom he had been looking for for
more than a hundred and fifty years ; I was delighted with
the character, because I had a white beard and a wig. Ma
dame de Merode and M. de Caraman were the two lovers.
My play ended happily, for the lovers survived, to serve as
models to the lovers of future ages, and the perfection of
their mutual love removed the enchantment from the old
hermit of the mountain. The play was full of agreeable
allusions to the master of the house, and every one of the
party. It may be supposed that nothing was wanting to its
complete success, and that the author was loudly ^called
for ; we were required to perform it again, but Madame de
Puisieux found the play too short, and desired me to lengthen
it. Every one called on me to perform Roxelane in the
Trois Sultanes, for I was" so often compared to Roxelane
in my youth, that I was as much tired with this kind of com
pliment, as with hearing it said that I certainly played bet
ter on the harp than King David. As we had not a copy of

258 MEMOIRS OF
donchel, who during the whole way got to fee post-houses
before us for the purpose of playing off the wildest stra
tagems, that kept us in a roar of laughter. Our stay at
Dieppe was equally gay. My surprise, admiration, and
awe were extreme at the aspect of the ocean, seen for the
first time from the pier of Dieppe, whence it is seen in all
its majesty. I missed only one circumstance — that of being
alone. I Confess that the noisy gayety of my companions
was highly disagreeable to me on this occasion. Whilst
contemplating this wonderful sight, I was hurt at hearing
laughter and ridicule around me, as if we were in a draw
ing-room or by the fire-side; and they were equally asto
nished with my grave looks, and agreed that I was very dull
on the sea-shore. I took a little voyage which did not
turn out well, for I became so terribly sick that we were obli
ged to gain the shore after having been out no further than
a league. We visited the shops, which were full of pretty
articles in ivory, and Madame de Puisieux gave me an im
mense quantity. With fish we made excellent cheer;
spent a whole day at Dieppe; and, delighted with our
journey, returned to Vaudreuil, where new fetes were in
preparation. While in the drawing-room after dinner, the day after
our return, the president received a letter which he read
aloud, informing him thai pirates had seen Madame de Me
rode and me at sea, and intended to carry us off to take us
to the Grand Seigneur's seraglio. We were not greatly
alarmed at this ; however we asked him how we could pre
serve ourselves from so imminent a danger, and he replied
that he saw no other way than to get ourselves received as
vestals in the temple of the petit bois. This was a charm
ing hut formed like a temple, and placed, in a part of the
garden near the castle ; it was called the convent, was sur
rounded with walls, and completely secluded, for it was in
the president's private garden which he carefully kept un
der lock and key, and which nobody entered but in his com
pany. He had taken us thither several times to breakfast.

MADAME DE GENLIS. 259
It was settled that at eight o'clock next evening we should
be received into the temple of Vesta. M. de Caraman
led us thither, and immediately disappeared. We found
the temple adorned with flowers, and all the ladies of the
party dressed as vestals, with Madame de Puisieux at their
head as Jiigh priestess, and the president as high priest.
He was the only man present within the enclosure. An
harangue was delivered, and Madame de Vougny recited
some very pretty verses. The ceremony of our reception
was gone through. Daylight was fast disappearing, when
we heard, all at once, very noisy music in the Turkish
style, and messengers came round us on all hands to say
that the Grand Seigneur was coming in person, with a great
escort, to carry off all the vestals from the temple. Our
high priest showed on this occasion a firmness worthy of his
rank, for he declared that the gates should not be opened.
Meanwhile the terrible music was approaching with alarm
ing rapidity, and the Turks soon made thundering knocks
at the gates. To avoid a scene that I disliked beforehand,
I advised that the gates should be opened, and that we
should surrender at discretion ; but the president was firmly
attached to his own plan, and fond of the pantomime, so
that he reproached me with cowardice, and made the
sultan be informed that the spot was consecrated ground.
Thereupon, though the walls were pretty high, all the Turks
jumped over immediately, several among them (who were
servants or peasants) carrying torches ; the gates were
opened ; more than three hundred Turks entered the garden,
the gentlemen of the party carried off the ladies ; the rest
carried off about a dozen waiting maids, who had been
mingled with us to increase our number. I always hated
confusion and tumult, even in games, and this noisy party
both displeased and frightened me, for I was afraid there
might be some legs broken ; and at seeing some Turks ap
proach the vestals rather roughly, I thought the whole plan
abominable. While in this bad humour, by the light of
the torches I perceived M. de Caraman all glittering with

258 MEMOIRS OF
donchel, who during the whole way got to the post-houses
before us for the purpose of playing off the wildest stra
tagems, that kept us in a roar of laughter. Our stay at
Dieppe was equally gay. My surprise, admiration, and
awe were extreme at the aspect of the ocean, seen for the
first time from the pier of Dieppe, whence it is seen in all
its majesty. I missed only one circumstance — that of being
alone. I confess that the noisy gayety of my companions
was highly disagreeable to me on this occasion. Whilst
contemplating this wonderful sight, I was hurt at hearing
laughter and ridicule around me, as if we were in a draw
ing-room or by the fire-side ; and they were equally asto
nished with my grave looks, and agreed that I was very dull
on the sea-shore. I took a little voyage which did not
turn out well, for I became so terribly sick that we were obli
ged to gain the shore after having been out no further than
a league. We visited the shops, which were full of pretty
articles in ivory, and Madame de Puisieux gave me an im
mense quantity. With fish we made excellent cheer;
spent a whole day at Dieppe; and, delighted with our
journey, returned to Vaudreuil, where new fetes were in
preparation. While in the drawing-room after dinner, the day after
our return, the president received a letter which he read
aloud, informing him that pirates had seen Madame de Me
rode and me at sea, and intended to carry us off to take us
to the Grand Seigneur's seraglio. We were not greatly
alarmed at this ; however we asked him how we could pre
serve ourselves from so imminent a danger, and he replied
that he saw no other way than to get ourselves received as
vestals in the temple of the petit bois. This was a charm
ing hut formed like a temple, and placed in a part of the
garden near the castle ; it was called the convent, was sur
rounded with walls, and completely secluded, for it was in
the president's private garden which he carefully kept un
der lock and key, and which nobody entered but in his com
pany. He had taken us thither several times to breakfast.

MADAME DE GENLIS. 259
It was settled that at eight o'clock next evening we should
be received into the temple of Vesta. M. de Caraman
led us thither, and immediately disappeared. We found
the temple adorned with flowers, and all the ladies of the
party dressed as vestals, with Madame de Puisieux at their
head as high priestess, and the president as high priest.
He was the only man present within the enclosure. An
harangue was delivered, and Madame de Vougny recited
some very pretty verses. The ceremony of our reception
was gone through. Daylight was fast disappearing, when
we heard, all at once, very noisy music in the Turkish
style, and messengers came round us on all hands to say
that the Grand Seigneur was coming in person, with a great
escort, to carry off all the vestals from the temple. Our
high priest showed on this occasion a firmness worthy of his
rank, for he declared that the gates should not be opened.
Meanwhile the terrible music was approaching with alarm
ing rapidity, and the Turks soon made thundering knocks
at the gates. To avoid a scene that I disliked beforehand,
I advised that the gates should be opened, and that we
should surrender at discretion ; but the president was firmly
attached to his own plan, and fond of the pantomime, so
that he reproached me with cowardice, and made the
sultan be informed that the spot was consecrated ground.
Thereupon, though the walls were pretty high, all the Turks
jumped over immediately, several among them (who were
servants or peasants) carrying torches ; the gates were
opened ; more than three hundred Turks entered the garden,
the gentlemen of the party carried off the ladies ; the rest
carried off about a dozen waiting maids, who had been
mingled with us to increase our number. I always hated
confusion and tumult, even in games, and this noisy party
both displeased and frightened me, for I was afraid there
might be some legs broken ; and at seeing some Turks ap
proach the vestals rather roughly, I thought the whole plan
abominable. While in this bad humour, by the light of
the torches I perceived M. de Caraman all glittering with

260 MEMOIRS OF
gold and jewels, (but who did not look well in his turban,) and
approaching me with an air of triumph, that roused my an
ger. I absolutely refused to be carried off, and this in such a
rude way that he was greatly hurt. He laid hold of me, I
resisted, pinched, scratched, and kicked his legs till he got
into a passion, and then carried me off in spite of all my
resistance. I was placed on a magnificent palanquin, while
the sultan followed me on foot, and reproached me bitterly.
Seeing, however, that I ought not to spoil the fete by tea
sing him who really gave it, and who had become the hero
only to make me queen, I endeavoured to laugh it off, and
succeeded in appeasing him. All the ladies were placed in
charming palanquins, abd the Turks followed on foot with
a band of music playing. In this manner we traversed
throughout their whole length these immense and beautiful
gardens, which were magnificently illuminated. The pros
pect was delightful. We found at the extremity of the park
a splendid ball-room, with plenty of orange-trees, garlands
of flowers, designs, and refreshments. The Grand Seigneur
declared me his favourite sultana, and we danced all night.
I have had many fetes given me in the course of my life,
but I never saw any so ingenious and delightful as this.
Three or four days afterward we set out for Sillery.
Though I had spent at Vaudreuil the most dissipated five
weeks of my life, yet 1 never omitted reading every morn
ing during my toilette. I took with me the Revolutions de
Suede of the Abbe de Vertot; and as the president had some
books, I read also the Conjuration de Bedmar contre Venise,
and again read over the Pensees du Comte Orenstiern, which
I had formerly read. Our adieus at parting were very af
fectionate; we promised to meet again at Paris, and to
become inseparable — but in the confusion of high society,
each was carried in a different direction, and we saw each
other no more. This was not the case with Madame de Me
rode and me, for Madame de Puisieux invited her to Sillery,
which she promised and performed.
In going through Rheims, Madame de Puisieux agreed to

MADAME DE GENLIS. 261
let me spend eight days with my kind and charming grand
mother, Madame de Dromenil. I then went to Sillery
where I found a large company assembled. There were
M. de la Roche Aimon, Archbishop of Rheims, a prelate of
haughty look, virtuous, austere, of great talents ; his coad-
juteur, M. de Talleyrand — not he who has subsequently be
come so celebrated — the one in question had nothing to be
come so, for piety and the love of peace make no display.
He was very pleasing in company by his harmless and grace
ful gayety. The archbishop had likewise brought with him
the young Abbe de Talleyrand, who was designed for a clergy
man, and already en soutane, though only twelve or thirteen
years of age. He was a little lame, was pale and silent, but
his countenance was agreeable, and indicative of a talent
for observation. There were likewise at Sillery the Due
d'Aumont, an excellent and sensible man, said not to be very
clever in society, but this is always said of those who do
not possess external accomplishments, who do not shine in
conversation, and who are always judicious in their opinions :
the Marechal d'Etree and his lady ; M. Damecourt, a very
witty lawyer, who with rather a ludicrous shape, was a man
a bonnes fortunes ; the old Princess de Ligne, who had the
ugliest face of a woman of fifty I ever saw ; a fat, shining
countenance, without rouge, Jividly pale, and adorned with
three chins, one below the other ; Monsieur and Madame
d'Egmont, Mademoiselle de Sillery, sister of M. de Puisieux,
a real saint, as witty and amiable as she was pious, kind,
and virtuous ; my brother-in-law and his lady ; Monsieur
and Madame de Louvois, the latter in bad health ; the Mar
quis de Souvre, with his daughters, the nieces of Madame
de Puisieux ; Mesdames de Sailly and de St. Chamand ; the
Comte de Rochefort ; M. Conway, son of the Marquis of
Hertford, formerly English Ambassador at the court of
France ; and the old Duke of Villars, who rouged, painted
his eyebrows, and kept little cotton balls in his mouth for
the purpose of swelling out his cheeks.
This journey, like the former, was full of amusements

262 MEMOIRS OF
and fetes of my inventing. We performed the two plays I
had written at Vaudreuil, the Deux Sultanes and the Mon
tague des Deux Amans, along with the Folies Amour euses
of Regnard. In July, M. de Genlis returned from his regi
ment, and two days afterward I was highly delighted with
the arrival of Madame de Merode, who was a useful and
agreeable addition to our projected fetes. She remained till
the middle of September, after which I went to Louvois for
ten days, and then returned to Sillery.
1 have not yet mentioned an individual who was established
in the house of M. de Puisieux, who nevertheless requires
particular notice. This was M. Tiquet, who had formerly
been secretary of embassy to M. de Puisieux, and had pre
served a most exclusive and passionate attachment to his
master. He was about fifty years of age, of great probity,
well informed, and a very worthy man, but had the most
ridiculous appearance imaginable. He was very tall, very
thin, with square flat shoulders of the most singular kind,
and a neck for length out of all bounds. Above this neck
appeared a bloated face, with a huge nose, small round
blueish eyes, without eyelids or eyebrows, and an enor
mously wide mouth, the whole surmounted with a light
coloured wig, covered with pomatum and slightly powdered.
He always wore a tight gray coat buttoned from top to bot
tom — and never was a more singular picture of finished ug
liness. But though I was surprised at his way, I did not dis
like him ; for there was nothing illnatured or concealed in
his look, and his smile indicated humour and single-minded-
ness. In truth, M. Tiquet smiled but seldom, for he was of
a grave, silent, and solemn disposition ; and having never
been a favourite of the ladies, though he did not absolutely
hate them, he teazed them always, particularly when they
were young and good-looking. As for the old ladies he de
lighted in contradicting them. He did this even to Madame
de Puisieux, who was not backwardin fnswering him, though
she often thought him perfectly insufferable. Their discus
sions were never violent, deference being paid on one hand.

MADAME DE GENLIS. 263
and politeness shown on the other ; but. still there was a
great degree of tartness displayed on both sides. During
my first stay at Sillery, M. de Puisieux told me one morning,
whilst riding out with him, that 1 had made, if not a very
brilliant, certainly a very wonderful conquest — of M. Ti
quet; and that I was indebted for it to the correct nature of
my studies, for he alone was acquainted with them, as he
kept the key of the library, and lent me the books I asked
for. M. de Puisieux added, that M. Tiquet had said, that
when my youthful vivacity had gone by, I should become a
woman of great merit. But he did not tell M. de Puisieux
a circumstance, for which, in his own mind, he prized me
more highly than for my correct studies, I mean, that in his
disputes with Madame de Puisieux, I never said he was in
the wrong, when she asked my opinion, for I thought she often
pressed him too hard, and very often I decided in his favour.
In this, as in many other circumstances, I greatly admired
the excellent temper of Madame de Puisieux, who never
became angry on this account. When M. de Puisieux told
her, in my presence, that I had completely subjugated the
inflexible heart of M. Tiquet, she replied with a smile, that
1 had used plenty of coquetry for the purpose. Two days
afterward I actually did make use of some coquetry. I
asked him for the Traite de Westphalie, a book he held in
the highest esteem, which he knew by heart, and was con
tinually quoting. My credit with him, from that moment,
was unbounded, his eyes constantly followed me in the
drawing-room, and when he saw me playing tricks, he smiled,
and more than once was actually seen to laugh. What gave
me great pleasure was, that Madame de Puisieux, in seeing
the strong interest he displayed for me, lost all her ill-will
towards him ; he perceived the change, and became much
more agreeable in his intercourse with her.
Besides the kindness of Madame de Puisieux, what most
contributed in rendering Sillery dear to me, was, that during
the three successive years I made such protracted visits, I
never had the smallest difference with the inmates, nor per-

264 MEMOIRS OF
ceived the slightest feeling of envy towards me. Madame
and M. de Puisieux himself had shown me kindness they
had never shown to any one, and this preference, displayed
on all occasions, often in spite of my remonstrances, never
raised the slightest invidious feeling. It is true, that the
Marechale d'Etree, and the nieces of Madame de Puisieux,
so kind to me at all times, were fifteen or twenty years older
than me ; but my sister-in-law, and Madame de Louvois
were about my own age, and had a right to be equally ca
ressed ; yet they thought it quite natural that these caresses
should be exclusively bestowed on what they called my
gentillesse. I was the real sovereign of Sillery, nothing was
done without consulting me, all my desires were foreseen
and provided for, and the very domestics of the house
served me with a zeal they scarcely displayed for their mas
ters. But I did not abuse my power, for I only employed it
for the enjoyment of the company. I was happy at my
situation, and affected by the kindness shown me, but I was
not vain on that account. I was always in good humour,
and showed such deference to others, that they could never
form the idea that I was desirous of ruling. In all the plans
I formed for our amusement, I took particular care to form
previous arrangements with Mesdames de Louvois, de Sailly,
de St. Chamand, and my sister-in-law, to mingle their ideas
with my own, and to give them all the credit afterward ; —
and thus was I beloved. In after times, in other situations,
I preserved the same disposition, but I was not equally for
tunate. During my stay here, I wrote a great many literary trifles,
and a song enpot-pourri, in eighteen couplets, to all kinds of
common airs. I wrote eight of them, and M. de Genlis the
remainder. We sung them together, each stanza alterna
tively. I ardently pursued my studies in literature and natu
ral history, and made a great many extracts, for I was ex
tremely fond of increasing my stores of this kind. The
close of our residence here was troubled by a most dangerous
and unaccountable incident.

MADAME DE GENLIS. 265
On returning from a ride with M. de Puisieux, one day
at twelve o'clock, I entered the dinner-hall, where two
buckets were always prepared before dinner, one with iced
water, the other not iced, and called M. de Puisieux'' s water, ,
as he drank no other ; but though this was not my favourite,
I was warm and thirsty, arid at the same time afraid of the
iced water, so that I drank of M. de Puisieux's with wine,
and then returned to my room. I felt sick immediately, and
only obtained relief after the most violent vomiting. This
over, I felt no further effects, dressed, thought no more of it,
nor did I even mention it before dinner. There I drank
nothing but iced water. M. de Puisieux being rather indis
posed, took nothing but a little tisane, made in the kitchen,
and stayed in the drawing-room with his lady, who never
sat down to table. While at dinner, the old Abbe de St.
Pouen, a relation of Madame de Puisieux, left the table,
complaining of a severe colic. Immediately after dinner,
the Coadjuteur of Rheims, M. Tiquet, and M. de Genlis.
complained of heartrburn, and they were the only persons
who drank of the water that was not iced. They retired to
the salon, but were obliged to leave it to relieve themselves.
Suspicion fell on verdigris as the cause, and all the sauce
pans were examined, but were found perfectly clean ; and,
at any rate, those who had not been attacked had partaken of
every dish like the rest. As M. de Puisieux ate little him
self, and for more than fifteen years kept a very strict regi
men, he always thought that others ate too much, and attri
buted the present symptoms of illness to previous indiges
tion ; so that, insteacrof condoling with the sick, he preached
sobriety to them. In the mean time, M. de Genlis had a
most violent fit of vomiting, and poor Abbe de St. Pouen,
who was seventy-four years old, was put to bed very ill ; M.
de Puisieux would have them to take nothing but warm
water, while his lady sent to Rheims for a doctor. After
much suffering, M. de Genlis would absolutely return to
the drawing-room, in spite of me, but he was much altered,
and looked very poorly. A servant entered while M. de
34

266 MEMOIRS OF
Puisieux was lecturing him on the sin of gormandizing, and
related, that M. de Renac, (who had not been at dinner, and
was just returned that moment from hunting,) had drank a
glass of M. de Puisieux's water, which instantly made him
ill, and that the same thing had happened to his servant. It
was now evident that the water must have been impregnated
with poison, and Madame de Puisieux ordered it to be thrown
away immediately, which was done, while it ought to have
been kept to be analysed. The doctor arrived, and found
poor Abbe de St. Pouen very badly, as well as Paul, M. de
Puisieux's attendant, who, in passing through the dinner-hall
had twice drank of the dangerous liquid. The abbe took
all the sacraments during the night, but he survived, notwith
standing. The doctor positively assured us that poison had
been administered. For myself, I felt no further effects;
M. Tiquet drank so little water with his wine, that he was
very slightly indisposed ; M. de Renac and his servant were
more so, but not badly; the Coadjuteur, and M. de Genlis
suffered greatly, and the abbe and M. de Puisieux's attend
ant were dangerously ill. None of the company but them
had drank of the water, r The sick were ordered to drink
eau theriacale, and then to take nothing but milk for three days.
We were busy only in imagining whence the poison came —
but we thought it could not be accidental, and the idea was
terribly alarming. The maitre d'hotel, the faithful Milot,
who had been almost frantic at the suspicion thrown on his
saucepans, was ordered into the salon, and asked how this
horrible mystery could be cleared up ; for we thought that
some of the servants might have thrown something into the
water, merely out of ill-will to one of the valets, who were
continually going backwards and forwards in the hall, and
drinking out of the buckets. M. de Puisieux told Milot to
learn who had been in the hall, and Milot went out for the
purpose. Each of the company then mentioned his ser
vant's character, and M. de Genlis said he was sure of his,
but my brother-in-law owned that he could not say the same
of his own, which made M. de Puisieux exclaim, " I believe

MADAME DE GENLIS. £6'7
you — you mind nothing but their size." In fact, he had a
new one at that very time, called the giant, on account of his
height, which was above six feet.
When Milot came back, he addressed himself to my
brother-in-law, — " Monsieur le marquis," said he, " I be
lieve it is the scoundrel of a giant who has done the deed." — ,
" In that case," exclaimed my brother-in-law, " we must
not let him escape ;" and he indicated what precautions
were necessary to prevent him disappearing, which M.
Tiquet went to put into execution. Milot continued his story,
and said, that a cook was in the court at eleven o'clock, and
saw the giant come out of the hall ; that having come up to
him, to ask if he would play a game at quoits, he perceived
that one of his ruffles was wet, and told him he had been
dabbling in the buckets, which he denied, and said he did not
even know that there was water in the hall. " The villain !"
exclaimed my brother-in-law, " it must be him — we must
examine him ourselves, and then 1 will give him up to
justice." Let any one reflect on this incident. My brother-in-law
was heir to the magnificent estate of Sillery, but his claim
was set aside, and one of his servants poisons the water
usually drank by the actual owner ; and if M. de Puisieux, at
his time of life, and with his delicate constitution, had not
that day been accidentally unwell, but had sat down to
dinner and drank of the water, he who never took wine but
with the dessert, it is most certain that death would have
immediately ensued^and my brother-in-law would that even
ing have been possessor of Sillery. Yet such were the un
suspicious feelings of those times, that there was not, I will
not say the slightest suspicion, but not even the idea that he
could for a moment be affected by the consequences of the
accident. Not a look was to be seen, not a word was heard
that had any reference to him. No one thought he ought to
be more uneasy or embarrassed than the rest of the company,
and he never thought of it himself, which shows the high
esteem in which he held the master of the castle. He ex-

268 Memoirs of i '
amined the giant in the chamber of M. de Puisieux, in pre
sence of that gentleman, M. Tiquet, and my husband. The
scoundrel denied every thing, but my brother-in-law threat
ened to give him up to the vengeance of the law, if he did
not instantly make a full confession. He then owned that he
had put an emetic into the water, but denied putting poison.
When strictly interrogated as to his motives, and why he
had chosen the water that was not iced, be answered, that he
had no intention of injuring his master. When his master
strongly urged him to tell why he had acted thus towards
others, he had the impudence to exclaim that it was not he
who was heir to the estate. My brother-in-law was deter
mined on delivering him up to the police, but M. de Puisieux
would not allow it ; so that he was only turned away, with
orders to leave the province immediately, and not to think
of becoming any thing but a soldier, for if he took service,
he would be instantly reported. My brother-in-law made
his livery be torn from his back, and burned before him, in
the little wood called le Menil, for no servant, he told him,
would wear it — he was then driven with ignominy from the
house. We got over the accident, and had only to drink
great quantities of milk for three days. The doctor always
maintained that it was poison, and not an emetic. At any
rate, whoever could have given such a violent emetic, was
equally capable of given poison ; or, perhaps, he thought,
that an emetic would not leave such strong, proofs of the
crime. This singular event was much talked of in Paris,
but produced not the slightest suspicion against my brother-
in-laW. In the mean time, Milot put a padlock to the water-
buckets, and this precaution filled me with sadness, made me
always think of poison, so that the latter part of our stay
was highly disagreeable.
We spent two or three days with Madame d'Egmont, at
Braisne, in our way to Paris, where we arrived at the end
of October.
During my stay at Sillery, I received several very
affectionate letters from the Duke of Orleans. My aunt

MADAME DE GENLIS. 269
had returned from Barrege, and the waters had cured her of
her unfortunate passion for the Due de Guines. She did
not say so, but she wrote me that solitude had restored her
peace of mind — which I understood to signify, that there
was no longer any thing to oppose her union with the
Duke of Orleans.
, I flew to my aunt immediately on my arrival, and she
showed me as much confidence as her disposition would
allow, for there was always some artifice and concealment
in all her confidential communications. The duke offered
to marry her secretly, but she displayed a reluctance,
prompted, as she said, by her delicacy, which duped me for
a time, but which was nothing else but a plan to increase
her influence. She told the duke, that she was determined
not to marry him, unless he had the consent of his son, the
Duke de Chartres. This resolution she announced in such
a dignified manner, that the duke was enchanted, and spoke
of it to me with admiration. He was reckoned an excel
lent father, and whether this character be merited or not,
those who enjoy it, like to preserve it as much as possible.
Besides, the duke loved his son as much as a weak-headed
man can love any one. He told him the secret imme
diately, and strongly panegyrized the magnanimity of Ma
dame de Montesson. At this epoch they thought only of a
conscientious, and consequently, a very private marriage.
But the Due de Chartres did not like her, for he thought her
too affected, too forward, and too insinuating ; and he saw
the schemes she laid to entrap him, by flattery and a show
of affection. To please him, she tried fits of extravagant
gayety, bursts of laughter, and those childish and caressing
ways, which he called des mievreries ridicules. This prince
had a defect very injurious to a man of his rank — that of
absolutely hating, not what was worthy of contempt and in
dignation, but what had not sufficient gracefulness and taste,
or which he fancied ridiculous. His tact in this respect
was very fine and correct. He respectfully but coldly an
swered the Duke of Orleans, that a son had no consent to

270 MEMOIRS OF
offer to his father, and he went not beyond this. My aunt
determined on speaking to him herself, and greatly embar
rassed him by the affection she displayed, but, as she still
persisted in asking his consent, he answered at length that
he would give it with great pleasure, if he were sure his
father's resolution was really fixed, which time only could
show. She immediately exclaimed, that nothing would
please her better than this certainty and a long trial, and
proposed two years. The Due de Chartres did not expect
so long a delay would have been yielded, but he gracefully
accepted the offer, adding that the whole must previously
be approved of by his father. He told Madame de Mon
tesson on leaving her, that he was going to the country for
a few days, and requested her to write him the decision of
the Duke of Orleans. She perceived that he wished her
to bind herself by a written engagement. With the consent
of the duke she wrote to him, and, in her letter (which I
have seen) gave a solemn promise not to marry his father
within the two years. The Due de Chartres always pre
served the letter, and eight months afterward wrote a note
on the margin of the first page that gave my aunt great
uneasiness. Madame de Montesson pretended to be perfectly pleased
with the Due de Chartres, and told her confidants, that he had
agreed to her marriage with his father, but she said nothing
about the conditions. When the whole plan had been proper
ly arranged, she lost no time in announcing to the Duke of '
Orleans, that she had formed another resolution, namely, that
she would not marry him without the king's written consent,
with a promise that the marriage should be kept private, and
that she should not go to court, an illusive promise if she had
children. The duke was not only surprised, but actually
thunderstruck at this new pretension; he fruitlessly op
posed it, but was forced to yield. My aunt was quite right
on this point, for a clandestine marriage is really odious,
when it springs not from mutual love: I do not esteem the
ambition by which she was guided, but in the whole of this

MADAME DE GENLIS. 271
affair, I find nothing very worthy of blame except the in
numerable artifices she employed.
The dauphin (afterward the unfortunate Louis XVI.) had
just been married ; the marriage of Monsieur was spoken
of, and M. de Puisieux asked from the king the promise of a
place for me as lady of honour to the future princess. The
king promised, the Marechal d'Etree returned thanks, and
I received the usual compliments on such occasions. My
aunt made this an excuse to be presented at court, where she
had never been, though her birth gave her the privilege ;
but M. de Montesson would not allow it. She said, that
since I was destined by the situation promised me, to spend
the greater part of my life at Versailles, she wished to
go to court to see me oftener. This was done at the be
ginning of November, on my arrival in Paris, and long before1
what I have been stating. I went the day my aunt was pre
sented, and was highly amused, for it was the very same dav
on which Madame du Barri was presented. We found her
in all quarters, splendidly and tastefully attired. Inrday-
light, her face had lost all expression, and her complexion
was spoiled by red-coloured stains. Her carriage was dis
gustingly impudent, and her features far from handsome ; but
she had beautiful fair hair, pretty teeth, and a pleasing phy
siognomy. She looked extremely well in the evening. We
reached the evening card tables a few minutes before her.
At her entrance, all the ladies near the door, rushed forward
in an opposite direction, so as not to be seated near her, so
that, betwixt her and the last lady in the room, there was
an interval of more than four or five empty places. She
looked with the utmost coolness at this marked and singular
movement, and nothing disturbed her unalterable impu
dence. When the king appeared at the end of the games,
she looked to him with a smile, his eyes rolled round the
room in quest of her, but he seemed in ill humour and al
most instantly retired. Public indignation was altogether
unbounded at Versailles, for never had any thing so openly
indecent been heretofore displayed, not even the triumphs

"272 MEMOIRS OF
of Madame de Pompadour. It was certainly very strange
to see the Marquise de Pompadour at court, while her hus
band, M. le Normant d' Etoiles, was only a farriier-general ;
but it was infinitely more abominable to see a common pros
titute pompously presented to the whole of the royal fa
mily. This, and many other instances of unparalleled inde-
tency, powerfully assisted in degrading royalty in France,
find, consequently, contributed to bring about the revo
lution. We must go back to my aunt and the Duke of Orleans.
The latter sincerely believed in the two years'1 delay, and
saw nothing very pressing in the steps necessary to be taken
I with the king ; he reckoned on not being called on to do any
thing for a long time, but my aunt told him that it was ab
solutely necessary he should have the consent safely deposit
ed in his pocket-book. Before taking this step, the duke
confessed he had fears he had never displayed till now, and
said, he was sure the king would not be favourable to his
proposal, and, in fact, would positively refuse his consent.
She maintained the contrary, and said, that when the king
learned that the Due de Chartres had highly approved of the
private marriage, and his consent was strongly solicited by
the Duke of Orleans, he could not possibly refuse. She
thus made the duke answerable for the result; arid this
ought always to be done when an important commission is en
trusted to persons of weak mind, or of an indolent and sluggish
disposition. Terribly afraid of my aunt's reproaches and
ill-humour, the duke became determined out of sheer timi
dity. In fact, the king refused him very angrily at first, but
when he insisted with much animation to obtain his object,
he succeeded, after a long conversation, in obtaining his
written consent, under the conditions that my aunt should
not change her name, should never appear at court, and
should claim none of the rights of a princess of the blood.
The duke returned in triumph to Paris, where we expect
ed him with the utmost impatience. His look, at his arrival
announced such distinguished success, that I believe my aunt

MADAME DE GENUS. 273
expected something a great deal' better than had actfeally
taken place. She had herself proposed the conditions ; yet,
when the duke enumerated the whole, I saw she was com
pletely disappointed. Ambitious views make fancy take
wilder flights even than love itself. Bernard, following
Tasso, says that love
Desire tout, pretend peu, n'ose rien.*
But in sober prose, we may justly assert that ambition desires
every thing, aspires after every thing, dares every thing.
My aunt was thoughtful and absent the whole of the day.
She told me in the evening, that if the duke had known how
to profit by the king's good will, he would have obtained the
public declaration of his marriage, with the single condition
of her not appearing at court, that she might not have prece
dence of the princesses of the blood, as she had a right
to have. Mentioning the duke, she spitefully said — Every
thing must be hammered into him.
The Duke thought Madame de Montesson's ill-humour
a proof of strong sensibility, and nothing occurred to disturb
his satisfaction. When we three were together, he never
called me by any other name than his niece, and this title he
did me the honour of giving me in three or four notes which
he addressed to me. But here ended my duties as a confi
dant. My aunt formed a plan she did n6t wish to entrust
to me, and the particulars of what I am about to relate, I
obtained solely from her other confidants, the Vicomte de
La Tour du Pin and Monsigny, to whom the Duke of Or
leans told all his secrets.
Madame de Montesson never intended seriously to wait
two years ; and the written promise she had given the Due
de Chartres had no effect on her plans. She had particu
larly warned the Duke of Orleans not to mention this cir
cumstance to the king, for this single fact would have shown
that the Due de Chartres had only consented with regret to
* Brama assai, poco spera, nulla chiede.
35

274 MEMOIRS OF
his father's marriage. After some hasty reflections, she told
the duke that the king's consent was nothing, if he delayed
to make use of it, that' Louis XIV. had broken the promise
he gave to Mademoiselle de Montpensier, and that still
greater dangers might arise during such a long interval. The
duke displayed a well-founded fear of his son's displeasure;
but she answered that she would take every precaution to
conceal the secret from him, and at length it was settled that
a private marriage should be concluded immediately. The
archbishop was shown the king's consent, and it was he who
gave them the nuptial blessing privately, in his chapel, at
twelve o'clock at night. The witnesses were the Vicomte
de la Tour du Pin and M. de Damas, the duke's chamber
lains. They were pledged to secrecy, which they kept for
three weeks, and broke only when Madame de Montesson's
vanity had told the matter to several individuals, and when
she had betrayed it in a thousand ways besides.
In imitation of Madame de Maintenon, who justly con
sidered every kind of title beneath her, and would have none
after her marriage with Louis XIV. my aunt rejected the
title of Marquise she had hitherto borne, while she ordered
her servants, arid requested her friends never to call her by
any other name than simple Madame de Montesson. She
persuaded the duke that there was great dignity iri not con
cealing her real rank, and he caused his chamberlains to pay
her the same homage as to a princess. The Due de Char-
toes soon learned the truth, and as he was himself incapable
of breaking his word, his anger was great ; he had an inter
view with his father, in which he displayed so much indig
nation and resentment, that he put his father in a passion, and
they were a fortnight without seeing each other. Madame
de Montesson thought that nobody could resist her insinua
ting talents, and obtained a private interview with the Due
de Chartres. She displayed abundance of fine feeling that
was all to no purpose, and then endeavoured to show him
that their common interest required their union ; but the
duke always replied with the most provoking coolness that

$ MADAME DE GEKLIS. I( f \ 20
V v** X * *
he would always think it inexcusable for any oljje^gi verbis
word of honour voluntarily, and then break it in wefy noint,
Hcadded, that such conduct destroyed every ideaNMTqJ*re
confidence, and on leaving her, said he should always^nje
serve her written engagement, to which he would mere!
add an historical note. This he actually did ; and though
the note did not contain those insults or defamatory reflec
tions attributed to it, it was sufficiently satirical. Hence
arose Madame de Montesson's violent resentment against
the Due de Chartres, which had a very fatal influence over
the destiny of that unfortunate prince.
I am anticipating events, for the Duke of Orleans did not
marry my aunt till a month after my entry into the Palais
Royal ; but since I have already broken the order of time,
I shall now finish all I have to say concerning the consequen
ces of their marriage. The duke was very sorry at his son's
displeasure, and told his deep chagrin to the faithful Mon
signy, whom he justly esteemed, and who, under, pretence
of receiving orders for the duties connected with his office,
had long interviews with him every morning, when the duke
showed more confidence in him than he did in the most im
portant individuals connected with his household. Mon
signy went often also to visit my aunt, who required him to
assist iri repeating music ; on leaving her he went to the
duke, who always kept him to have some conversation.
When setting out for Villers-Coterets, whither we were to
go in eight days, the duke desired Monsigny to intimate to
me, that if I could engage the Due de Chartres to be recon
ciled to my aunt, and to treat her affectionately, she would
settle the estate of Sainte-Assise upon my children, along
with her splendid house in Paris, the whole of which might
be worth from seventy to eighty thousand livres a year.
Next morning, Monsigny called; and gave me a note from
the duke, merely desiring me to believe implicitly whatever
should be said in his name, and to perform with zeal all he
expected from my attachment towards him, and which he
merited by his sincere and ardent friendship. He ended by

276 MEMOIRS OF
asking for my answer in writing, which Monsigny would
bring to Villers-Coterets three days after his arrival. Mon
signy then told me all. This statement, I mean the propo
sal of this bargain; greatly hurt me, and I was highly offended
at such stupid conduct on the part of the duke. I con
sidered it a personal insult, and time has not changed my
opinion; but I was indignant, and my reply but too clearly
displayed it. My first impressions and feelings have always
been kind and generous, but the vivacity of my ideas, and
the liveliness of my imagination, have always mingled with
my best actions something lofty, violent, and even extrava
gant, that has diminished their value, and has been, (must,
in fact, have been,) exceedingly injurious to my interest and
happiness. When greatness of mind alone prompts to a
good action, calmness and simplicity predominate in the
manner ; but when vanity interferes with this sublime feel
ing, an unnatural display is given to its operation, and the
whole is destroyed. I answered the Duke of Orleans in a
way that was not only not suitable to his rank, but that was
really impertinent. After beginning, properly enough, my
letter went on to say that I did not know any right I had to
influence the mind of the Due de Chartres ; that, at any rate,
he wanted no extraneous aid to show his respect and attach
ment to his father. But after disdainfully rejecting the very
rude offer of securing me my aunt's inheritance, I added
this phrase ; I would not consider as lawful, nor would I ac
cept any part of my aunfs property, except the family inherit
ance. I could not have said any thing more severe if my
aunt had been the mistress of the Duke of Orleans ; instead
of that, she had become his wife with the king's consent, and
had been married by the archbishop of Paris ! But though
she was really the Duchess of Orleans, she could not assume
the title; and I felt that in her place, with no rank to sus
tain, I should have gloried in being satisfied with.forty thou
sand livres a year ; should have refused all the extravagant
gifts of the duke, two hundred thousand livres a year, and a
splendid mansion, built for her besides in the Chaussee

MADAME DE GENLIS. 277
d'Antin, diamonds, plate, and other valuables. Madame de
Maintenon would accept of nothing from Louis XIV., but
my aunt was governed by different feelings; was excessively
proud and aviricious ; and so indignant was I at her extra
vagance and cupidity, that my dislike at her conduct assisted
me not a little in making out a letter in so arrogant a tone.
I firmly resolved that this letter, which I thought quite sub
lime, should never be employed in increasing my credit with
the Drike of Chartres, and I faithfully kept my resolution,
though there was little merit in doing so, for he thought so
little of people showing themselves off, and not acting from
principle, that I would have lost his esteem had 1 boasted of
this action, which it was also my duty to conceal from him,
to prevent him becoming more and more irritated at his
father. Hence, he never had the least idea of the subject.
Desirous, however, of having a respectable witness of my
conduct on this occasion, I showed the letter to the Duchess
of Chartres, having first made her give me her word of
honour, that she would never say a word on the subject to
the duke ; and I knew that I could place implicit reliance
on her word. This princess is six years younger than me,
and should naturally survive me ; she must certainly remem
ber a fact that so greatly surprised her at the time.
The duke of Orleans and my aunt were enraged at my let
ter, and neither of them ever pardoned it, yet without ex
pecting any result, all my cares were devoted, along with
those of the duchess, to soften the Duke of Chartres. He had
declared he would never again set foot in Madame de Mon
tesson's house ; yet he returned to it, and during several
years supped there twice or three times every winter.
This behaviour (which I venture to say, he never would
have shown without my exertions) ought to have sufficed,
for it was just and reasonable, but did not at all satisfy my
aunt, who wished to be followed by admirers and flatterers.
It is true, that the Due de Chartres was not very fond of
the coquetry and affectionate displays she occasionally play
ed off before him. She irritated his father more and more

i7« MEMOIRS OF
against him. Meanwhile, she was continually complaining
of him to her confidential friends, never mentioning a sin
gle positive instance, but sighing and using ambiguous lan
guage, so that her hearers might think whafrthey pleased;
this was her plan. It was thus she always made her com
plaints of me in a most sentimental tone, but without being
able to bring forward a single incorrect proceeding. But
the greatest fault of the Due de Chartres was, that he never
had even the semblance of wrong in his conduct towards
her; not even when his friend, M. de Fitz-James, among the
rest, gave him notice that she- took every opportunity of abu
sing his character and conduct.* The most fatal prepos
sessions ever formed against this unfortunate prince, were
raised by her machinations. Herresentment was so violent,
that many have thought it could only ha\ e arisen from a strong
sentiment in his favour having been disdained ; but this I be
lieve to be wholly untrue. The Due de Chartres was not
a Hippolyte, nor did my aunt resemble Phedre, for she was
only vehement in her self-love. To all this hatred, the duke
opposed nothing but calmness, patience, and indifference.
The two facts I am about to mention, I witnessed myself, as
well as every one at the Palais Royal. One day at dinner,
we perceived that the silver covers were all different, and
every one recognized his own arms on some of them. The
duke asked the comptroller, Joli,t what was the meaning of
this, and in reply, he whispered something into his ear. After
dinner, the duke told us that all the plate had been carried
off to Sainte-Assise by order of the Duke of Orleans, be
cause Madame de Montesson's were sent to the jewellers to
be altered, as they were old-fashioned. It is true, that the
plate at the Palais Royal belonged to the Duke of Orleans,
* The Duke of Fitz-James was grandson of the celebrated Marshal
Berwick, natural, son of the Duke of York, afterward James II. of Eng
land. — (Editor.)
t This Joli (a very worthy man) was the father of the pleasing and
talented actor of that name, so deservedly popular at present. — (Note by
the Author.) -

MADAME DE GENLIS. 279
but this was an odd way of disposing of it without notice.
One morning the winter after, orders came to take away from
the Duke and Duchess of Chartres all the diamonds called
the family jewels, for the purpose of adorning a velvet dress,
in which Madame de Montesson appeared several times du
ring the winter. Such conduct was highly indecorous, yet
the Duke of Chartres bore it with admirable patience and
good temper.
I had several private griefs of my own before I left my
residence in the Rue Saint Dominique. The one that
affected me most was the death of my kind and beloved
grandmother, the Marquise de Dromenil, for this worthy
lady was really so in my affection and grateful remem
brance. She was eighty-six years of age, yet I bewailed her
as if I could have expected to preserve her much longer.
In her will, she made no dispositions in favour of any of her
grand-children in particular, but she left me the estate of
Bouleuse, near Rheims, with a fine country-house, worth
seven thousand livres a year. She added this clause : " In
making this gift to the Comtesse de Genlis, I wish, on ac
count of the affection I bear towards her, to be interred in
the parish church of the estate." This will, so kind and
honourable to me, was of no benefit, for it was set aside by
M. de Noailles, the husband of Madame de Dromenil's
¦and!-daughter. It had been drawn up by a notary, but
'ere was some error in form, and M. de Noailles litigated
the question, and gained it. It was this M. de Noailles who
afterward paid my marriage settlement, that is to say, a hunr
dred and twenty thousand francs, by giving two thousand
francs' worth of assignats to the nation. M. de Genlis only
obtained, like Madame de Noailles and Madame de Bel-
zunce, his own portion, and we lost altogether the estate of
Bouleuse, which, independent of right, had been bequeath
ed to me ; but I always preserved the same grateful feeling
for the donor, and Madame de Dromenil will ever live in
my remembrance as a mother and a benefactress.
At this time occurred an incident which shows the great

280 MEMOIRS OF
utility of M. Tissot's book (Avis au peuple sur sa sante.)
We kept in the house an Italian abbe, who read Tasso with
me, was, an excellent musician, and played extremely well
on the piano. On returning home one evening we were
told that he was dangerously ill of the cholera-morbus, and
that the physician he had sent for (a M. Soulier) had pre
scribed wine and treacle mixed together. As I had often
practised medicine at Genlis, and even at Sillery, I knew
M. Tissot's book by heart, and said I was sure that it con
demned such a prescription. We took the book, and saw
with great alarm, that M. Tissot said it was sometimes
given by- ignorant physicians, but that it was the same thing
as firing a pistol at the patient's head. It is wonderful that
a physician should be so brutally ignorant, and should not
have read Tissot. But such was the case ; the poor abbe
called for the sacraments, and took extreme unction at ten
o'clock that night. M. de Genlis, and I were present.
He died half an hour afterward. I was so struck with his
look, that I told M'. de Genlis I could not think of passing
the night under the same roof, and he agreed to let me go
to sleep at the house of Madame de Balincour. Horses
were put to the carriage, and I set off immediately. The
family of M. de Balincour were delighted though surprised;
at seeing me, and he gave me up his own room, where 1$
went to bed at half past twelve o'clock. I had fallen *
asleep in a few minutes, but was wakerted by the merry
voice of M. de Balincour, who had entered my room in the
dark (for I kept no light in my room at night,) and was
singing a very gay and laughable couplet to the air of Ld
Baronne, while I heard the whispering of five or six per
sons who had glided in likewise. As we never forget what
has highly amused us, I recollect perfectly the(> whole of
the couplet : — Dans mon alcove
Je m'arracherai les cheveux, (bis)
Je sens que je deviendrai chauve
Si je n'obtiens ce que je veux
Dans mon alcove.

MADAME DE GENLIS. . 281
After a moment's reflection, I replied by the following im
promptu, to the same tune — but to understand it, I ought
to mention that M. de Balincour had nearly lost all his
hair : — Dans votre alcove,
Moderez l'ardeur de vos feux
Car enfin pour devenir chauve
II faudrait avoir des cheveux
Dans votre alcove.
My reply caused a general laugh, and delighted them great
ly. When lights were brought, Madame de Balincour and
Madame de Ranche, her husband's sister, a handsome,
charming woman, rushed towards my bed, while M. de
Balincour and the rest of the company formed a circle
round it. We conversed, and said a thousand amusing
things till three in the morning, when M. de Balincour went
out, and came back in a moment dressed like a pastry
cook,, with a large basket full of sweetmeats, fruits., and pre
serves. We kept up the frolic till five in the morning, for
M. de Balincour detained us more than half an hour in pro
posing all kinds of amusements, as violins, magic lanterns,
and puppet-shows; but at last they allowed me to sleep,
wfoichj did till twelve o'clock, and was only awakened by
further tricks on the part of M. de Balincour. When M.
de" Genlis came for me he was also detained, and they
would not let us go^JoAfiye whole days. M. de Genlis
entered fully jfto'M. delBalincour's views, wrote twenty
couplets of sfigs, and dressed in all kinds of characters;
while we haJ* Pwfewjljut to the theatres, to the fair, the
halle; played at crmtfifh games, had concerts, and enjoyed-
an unijEfarriipted series of amusements. Never were five
days swpoisily spent in the course of my life. The Mare
chal de Balincour, and the Marechal de Biron witnessed our
lively doings, and were highly amused. The Marechal de
Biron was seventeen or eighteen years younger than M. de
Balincour, and was about seventy years of age, though he
36

282 MEMOIRS OF
did not appear to be more than fifty-five. His height- was
majestic, his shape very fine, and his look stern and noble.
Brutus was said to be the' last of the Romans; and the
marshal might be said to be the last fanatic of royalty in
France, for he never gave a thought to politics or forms of
governments in the course of his life. His real vocation lay
in making a figure at court, in being decorated with a blue
ribbon, in speaking with grace and dignity to a king, in
being acquainted with, and in feeling the different degrees
of respect to be paid to the sovereign, and the princes of
the blood, and the attentions due to a man of quality, as
well as the dignified manner appropriate to a man of high
rank. All his fine taste, all his knowledge of etiquette, all
his graces, would have beeri destroyed by the system of
equality. He worshipped the king, because he was king ;
he might have said what Montaigne said of his friend, la
Boetie, / love him because I love him, because he is what he
is, and I am what I am. The marshal, in different language,
gave the same explanation of his strong attachment to the
king. It was most amusing, even then, to hear him speak
ing of republics, for he considered republicans as a sort of
barbarians. In other respects he was a man of great good
sense, of an upright and open disposition, evidently marked^
in his fine features, had shown the most distinguished galr
lantry in war, and was adored by the Gardes Francaisai
whose colonel he was. m
One day, that the marshals of Jhe^%gme of Biron were
talked of in his presence, he sam- — " Youmount one too
many, for you should not reckon fro one who was unfaithful
to his king." He was fond of youiOTadjp^ and bore him
self towards them with a chivalrous gallantry, that save one
an idea of that of the court of Louis XIV., the lasjpnVnents
of which he had seen in early youth. He paid muchsrespect
to the Marechal de Balincour, who could boast of an earlier
acquaintance with it, and speaking of him one day, he said
with a feeling of admiration : " At the late king,s death he
was thirty years of age ."' This was high praise from him.

MADAME DE GENLls. 2B3
I felt infinite delight in hearing these two worthy veterans
conversing together ; and when the Marquis de Canillac, who
was ninety-one years of age, was along with them, I thought
myself really transported to the age of Louis XIV., with
which the Marechal de Richelieu had already made me ac
quainted while we were at Braisne. Hence arose my strong
admiration of the court of Louis XIV. even in early youth,
and this feeling Was increased by my subsequent studies. If
I have been able to describe that brilliant court, it was be
cause I knew it well. I was very fond of the marechal, not
only because he was constantly sending me presents of figs,
nectarines, and flowers, out of his princely garden, but be
cause 1 obtained much instruction from his conversation.
I again read the Letters of Madame de Sevigne, and those
of Madame de Maintenon, the Souvenirs of Madame du Cay
lus, and the Memoirs of Cardinal Retz. One never tires of
reading them. How people loved, thought, wrote, and con-
. versed in those times ! What wit, judgment, unaffected-
ness, grace, lofty sentiments, and unostentatious feeling !
How French we were in those days ! 
I left my amiable and beloved friends after enjoying a fund
of amusement, and yet returned to the Rue St. Dominique
with joy, for 1 had need of writing, reading, thinking, silence,
and repose. The house I left so brilliant and so gay, was
in a few days filled with sorrow, for the good old Marechal
de Balincour fell ill. I immediately went back to join my
friends in their affliction. They lost a revered uncle, and a
deservedly beloved benefactor. His death was equally
happy and affecting ; but I have mentioned the particulars
of it in my Souvenirs. We had a great many family losses to
deplore in the course of this year. The Marechal d'Etree
was dying of a lingering complaint, that had long afflicted
him, and which was incurable. He lay on a sofa, and daily
received the visits of his relations and friends ; conversation
and amusement went on as if he had been in perfect health.
He did not see, the whole extent of his danger, for the length
of time he had suffered from the complaint, made him think

284 MEMOIRS OF
it was noways dangerous. At the death of M. de Balin
cour, I went every evening to the house of the Marechal
d'Etree, who showed me great kindness. I was painfully
surprised at seeing the gradual extinction of a great man,
covered with glory, full of honour, and at the summit of
earthly grandeur and respect. Methought all the brilliant at
tributes that rendered his life illustrious, should have secured
its duration ; and yet these numerous friends, tlnV high for- •
tune, this pomp and loftiness, all were about to disappear !
On reaching his house one evening, I found all the family in
dismay, for he was near his end, and had called for the last
sacraments, which he received with great devotion, for he
had always been religiously inclined. The same evening
he breathed his last, and left a memory illustrious, by a life
without a stain, by great actions, an excellent disposition,
and lofty talents as a statesman and a warrior.
At this time, Monsieur and Madame de Puisieux wished
us to reside with them, and gave us a pretty entresol in the
splendid house they occupied in the Rue de Grenelle.
From honourable motives, I had given up the situation
promised me in the household of Madame. The king de
cided that" none of these places' should be given to ladies
who did not visit Madame du Barri. It may be imagined
that this decision was not formally announced, but it was
fully acted upon. Several persons on the list of candidates
received notice of the decision, and this was called being in
vited to join the king' s private parties. For myself, no in
timation was given me, but we learned on all hands that most
of the persons selected had paid visits to Madame du Barri.
They were admitted the moment they sent for an invitation.
M. de Genlis was noways disposed to bid me take such a
step, which no power, in fact, could have forced me to do.
His relations thought the same ; but as the places at court
were granted only under this condition, I obtained none,
notwithstanding the king's solemn promise. Had I ob
tained this place, my lot would have been very different ! I
would most certainly have followed the princess, to whose

MADAME DE GENLIS. 285
household I was attached ; the king, in the leisure moments
of his exile, might, perhaps, have distinguished me ; I should
have been placed in a noble and secure asylum, sheltered
from the shafts of calumny, and the hazards of imprudence.
How many toils and chagrins I should have been spared!
This pure, honourable, and peaceful lot was denied me, be
cause Louis XV. allowed absolute dominion over his own
mind, and over the court, to be impudently usurped by a stale
and senseless public prostitute !
I forgot to mention a very remarkable individual, whom
I constantly saw at M. de Puisieux's namely, the Abbe
Raynal. Never did there exist a man of talent so insup-
portably obstinate, so disputatious, or so unamiable in
society. I have heard him disputing with the Marechal
d'Etree on military tactics, and with a pertness and posi
tive tone altogether indescribable. One evening the Mare
chal ended the discussion, by telling him, " You are per
fectly right, Monsieur l'Abbe — I see you understand these
things much better than I do." Another time I had been
playing on the harp, and he wished to pester me with end
less questions about the mechanism of pedal ones ; but Ma
dame de Puisieux came to my assistance, and broke off his
harangue, by telling him, " Spare us a useless dissertation,
Monsieur l'Abbe, for Madame de Genlis is perfectly aware
that you are qualified to teach her the harp." He had not
yet written his Histoire Philosophique des Indes,* and if that
heavy, pedantic and dangerous work had actually been
published, I should have felt very great contempt and dis-
* The Philosophical and Political History of the Commerce and Settle
ments of Europeans in the East and West Indies, did not appear till the
beginning of the year 1772. It was printed at Nuten, in six volumes octavo,
and, though anonymous, was immediately attributed to the Abbe' Ray
nal. Another edition appeared in 1774, which was also sold publicly.
When the book was condemned by a decree of the parliament of Paris, and
the author ordered to be imprisoned, (May 25, 1781,) Raynal fled into Ger
many. The Abb£ Raynal was born at St. Genica, in Rouergue, in 1713,
'and died at Passy, in 1796, leaving nothing but an assignat for fifty francs,
worth five sous.— (Note by the Editor.)

286 MEMOIRS OF
gust at being seated beside the old libertine and apostate,"
who has drawn the licentious picture of the bagaderes with
such apparent pleasure, and has had the impiety to write
those atrocious words : Nations of the earthy do you wish
for. happiness ?. Overthrow every throne and every altar.
He has been since obeyed—he saw the result, for it was a
just retribution, and he repented. But his recantation, so
disgraceful to the cause of philosophy, was not sufficiently
humble to satisfy religion, which ihe had so grossly insulted.;
I likewise saw at M.' de' Puisieux's the young King of Swe
den,* then on his first travels out of his own dominions, for
he afterward went to Spa. He was agreeable, accom
plished, obliging, and conversed very gracefully.
A lady, who. became rich and fashionable in her old age,
but who had been neither the one nor the other at thirty-
seven, sometimes visited Madame de Puisieux. Madame
de Coaslin had a grave look, abd a slow pedantic mode of
expressing herself, which formed a striking contrast to the
vulgarity of her language, and the droll stories she always
mixed up with her conversation. Her style of writing was
ridiculous, and she was not clever, but she was handsome
and had a stern look. A satirical turn, and a bold manner,
made her be noticed, and gave her a certain gloss of origi
nal humour. The Prince de Conti gave a supper every
* The crown-prince of Sweden, afterward known by the name of Gusta
vus III., learned while at Paris, in the beginning of the year 1771, the death
of his father, Frederic Adolphus. Gustavus, at a supper, once defended
Voltaire against the Marechal de Broglie, which the patriarch of Ferney
soon learned by the Prussian ambassador, M. d'Argental, and replied in the
following verses :
On dit que je tombe en jeunesse ; . .,
Tachez de me bien elever,
Ne pourriez-vous pas me trouvev
1 Quelqu' acegs pres de son altesse ?
De vieux heros, de vieux savans
Prende pnt de ces lecons, peutetre ;
Je veux m'instruire, il en est temps :
C'est a moi de chercher mon maitre. (Note by tlie Editor")

MADAME DE GENLIS. 287
Monday in the Temple, to which such crowds resorted,
that there was always present more than a hundred and
fifty persons. To reach the prince it was necessary to
pass through an immense saloon, betwixt three rows of
gentlemen, who stood up previous to the supper, as none
but the ladies were in the circle at the foot of the hall.
One evening, when the crowd was even greater than usual,
the Prince de Conti saw Madame de Coaslin coming up,
and advancing towards her, he said, with an ironical tone,
that with her natural timidity she must have been greatly
embarrassed in the midst of such a crowd. " Yesj*Mon-
seigneur," replied Madame de Coaslin', " 1 was so frighten
ed,! that I entirely lost my recollection, and in my confusion
•r^-actually curtsied to Monsieur," pointing to a gentleman
she disliked, and who had written some very satirical verses
upon her. <
At this time I frequently saw the beautiful Comtesse de
Brione, who was now not very young, but of a majestic
look that was still very remarkable ; but when we have
mentioned her person, her portrait is finished — no more
can be added. She came to M. de Puisieux's very often to,
supper, along with the famous Prince Louis, afterward
Cardinal de Rohan. Prince Louis had an agreeable per
son, manners rather too spruce for his profession, frivolous,
lively, and witty conversation, but nothing that he ought to
have been, though he was as pleasing as a person can be
out of his proper place and character. His hastiness, thought
lessness, carriage, and conversation, showed nothing but the
wildness of his youth, and foretold, for his after life, nothing
but blunders, misfortune, and disgrace-
A short time after the death of the Marechal d'Etree, we
lost another friend still dearer to us. M. de Puisieux was
attacked by inflammation of the chest, abd died on the fifth
day, (of his illness.) He was one of the most honourable
men of his time. The most scrupulous delicacy was only
common honesty in his eyes. Never did "any one enjoy a
higher character for uprightn.ess and integrity. He was a

288 MEMOIRS OF
knight of the order of the Holy Ghost, ambassador in Swit
zerland, Sweden, and Naples, and afterward minister for
foreign affairs. When he retired from the ministry, the
king required him still to remain in the privy council. As
umpire, he decided an immense number of law suits be
tween the courtiers, who were continually asking his ad
vice. The Marechal d'Etree said of him, that he was the
judge of the point of honour in thorny disputes. He enjoy
ed the unbounded confidence of the most virtuous of prin
ces, the Duke of Penthievre, and it was he who persuaded
him' to give his only daughter, the richest heiress in the
kingdom, (since the death of the Prince de Lamballe,) to the
Duke of Chartres. The Duke of Orleans acknowledged
that he was indebted to him for it. M. de Puisieux showed
great devotion at his death. He had been educated among
the Jesuits, and after his death marks were found on his
breast of his being admitted into the order, a secret he
never told any one, and which none of his servants knew*
This admission (affiliation) was obtained by the following,
formality: the' party took an oath to do every thing in his
power for the maintenance of religiori ; to protect the order
itself, and all its members, whenever this protection should
be claiiried, or become necessary, and at the same time be
not injurious to morality nor the laws ; to say every day a
certain prayer, which was very short ; to wear a scapulary
constantly on the breast, as a mark of affiliation : and lastly,
to keep the secret of their affiliation, which was authorized
by the pope. On the other hand, the person affiliated was
promised all the services and proofs of affection that could
be of use to him in any country, or in any situation ; finally,
he participated in all the prayers put up for the members of
the order, and in all the indulgences granted by the pope.
The decease of that worthy and respectable master of a
family, M. de Puisieux, plunged us all into the deepest
affliction ; but a still greater emotion was produced by tfie
death of his virtuous sister, Mademoiselle de Sillery. She
had tended and watched her brother, without leaving him

MADAME DE GENUS. 289
one moment, during the five days of his illness. When she
had received his last sigh, she took to her bed, called for
the sacraments next morning, and died in six days afterward.
I was long shut up with Madame de Puisieux, solely occu
pied in consoling her, and in taking care of her health,
which this severe trial had greatly injured. During her
mourning, her seclusion was complete, for she saw none but
her own family for some months, and went nowhere but to
church. At the end of this period, she would not go to see
the illuminations, nor the fire-works displayed on the Place
Louis XV., in honour of the dauphin's marriage, but she
sent me to see then. M. de Genlis had just set out for his
regiment, and I went to see the fire-works with the Mar
quise de Brugnon, a charming lady, whose husband was in
the navy, and had been sent as ambassador to Morocco,
which gave me a high opinion of him, for 1 thought the em
bassy much more dangerous than a sea-fight.
M. de la Reyniere was building a fine house in the Place
Louis XV. and gave me one of the apartments on the ground
floor, to look at the fire-works. As we were told there
would be a terrible crowd, I went thither immediately after
dinner, along with Madame de Brugnon, and Messieurs de
Nedonchel and de Bouzolle. We reached the house without
difficulty, but waited much longer than we expected, so
that I began to fret, and said, I had no longer any wish to
see the fire-works, nor would look at them at all. They
thought I was jesting, and playfully challenged me to do so,
which I solemnly maintained I would. 1 closed my eyes
when the first rocket was discharged, and nothing could
make me open them as long as the fire-works lasted. When
they were over, Messieurs de Bouzolle and de Nedonchel
left us to look for the servants, and to call the carriage.
They did not come back till twelve o'clock, which greatly
alarmed us, but we were still more so, when we heard a
horrible tumult in the place; The gentlemen returned at
last ; they would not tell us that th§ crowd in the place
were tumbling and trampling over each other, and that every
37

290 MEMOIRS OF
thing was in a dreadful state of confusion ; but they said
they had encountered shocking difficulties, and that we
must wait at least, two hours longer. They brought us a
pullet which they had got, along with some cakes, at a res-
taurateur'% but just as we were going to take supper, we
heard groans under our windows. They came from two old
ladies, the Marquise d' Albert and the Comtesse de Renti,
formerly maid of honour to the late Princesse de Conde.
These ladies, in going for their carriage, had been borne
along by the crowd, and separated from their servants. We
took them in ; — but, as we could not get round the house to
let them in by the door, we lifted them u# through the win
dow, which fortunately was not very high, though we effect
ed this not without great difficulty, on account of their hoop-
petticoats, and the terror they were in. The amusement
which this produced, instantly vanished on seeing the neck
of Madame d' Albert covered with blood, which was caused
by one of her ear-rings having been snatched from her in the
crowd. We remained till two o'clock in the morning, for the two
ladies could find neither their carriage nor their servants,
and I was forced to take them home, so that I did not return
to the Hotel de Puisieux till a quarter after three. I found
all the household up, and dreadfully alarmed. They thought
I was killed, for they knew, which I did not, that an immense
number of individuals hadperished-in the fatal place, (about
six thousand persons, according to the most moderate calcu
lation.) Madame de Puisieux, in tears, came to the top of
the stairs to receive me with inexpressible delight, for she
had learned all the disasters of that fatal night. These
were produced by small shallow trenches along the Place
Louis XV. which the crowd, in pressing forward, had not
seen, and had tumbled into; those behind them fell over
them, trampled them to death, or stifled them. For the first
time since she had become a widow, Madame de Puisieux
had that evening su^ed out, with Madame de Egmont.
Close to the Hotel d'Egmont was a guard-house, adjoining

MADAME DE GENLIS. 291
the Place Louis XV. and thither was brought an immense
quantity of bodies, which were fruitlessly attempted to be
restored to life. Thus Madame de Puisieux learned the
horrible catastrophe. The next day was a day of desolation,
particularly to workmen and the lower classes, for scarcely
anyone, in this walk of life, had not a misfortune to deplore.
Milot, the maitre d'hotel of Madame de Puisieux, lost a
cousin ; my waiting-maid went to the morgue to recognize
the body of her sister, a young girl of twenty, apprenticed
to a furrier. Every one of our acquaintance related simi
lar accidents ; and during four or five days nothing was
thought of in conversation but the horrible catastrophe, which
every one considered as a very bad omen. In fact, it is
very remarkable, that at the marriage of the unfortunate
Louis XVI. so much blood should have been shed on the
very spot where that prince himself, his wife, and so many
other innocent victims were afterward to be put to
death! ...
After this event, we resided eight months longer with Ma
dame de Puisieux, and the following winter I experienced
one of the deepest afflictions I ever suffered. Madame de
Custines had gone to an estate of her mother-in-law^s in
Lorraine, and returned at the end of autumn alone, as busi
ness detained her husband in the country till the month of
January ; I went daily to see her on her return, and foundher
altered»and looking very poorly. As she had a cough I was
alarmed for her health, and went every morning to breakfast
at her house, where I remained from ten till two, and then
lef^her to dine with Madame de Puisieux. Her brother-in-
lawj the Viscount de Custines, was almost always along with
her, and greatly embarrassed me ; but as Madame de Cus
tines had no idea of his conduct towards me, and I never
was accustomed to tell those things, I did not show my
thoughts on the subject. She thought Gnly that I did not
like her brother, and had several times wondered at me for
doing so, and spoke highly of his disposition and moral quali
ties. She knew the report that had been spread abroad,

292 MEMOIRS OF
that he had gone off suddenly to Corsica only to please me,
but she declared it was not true, and that the viscount, she
was sure, had no pretension that could give me any offence.
I took care not to tell the real state of things, and only re
plied that there was something ironical and severe in his
manner and conversation which I did not like. She told
me again and again that I was mistaken in my opinion, but I
allowed her to think so, for I did not wish to injure the esteem
and friendship she felt for him, and I saw that he had given
her a very false account of his conduct towards me.
One morning, on going as usual to see Madame'de Custines
at ten o'clock, I found her so altered and unwell, that I pre
vailed on her to go to bed. The viscount sent for a doctor,
who came immediately, and said she was very feverish.
When he left the room, we followed him to ask his opinion,
and he struck me with anguish by saying, he was afraid she
was attacked by inflammation of the chest. I resolved on
stopping all day. The doctor told us in the evening, that
it really was an inflammation of the chest. I then took up
my abode in her house, along with one of her relations, a
lady, determined like me, on sitting up with her, and in not
leaving her as long as she should be in danger. The vis
count remained along with us, and his behaviour greatly af
fected me, for it was perfectly appropriate ; he did not say
one word that could remind me of the sentiments I had for
bid him ever to mention in my presence. He displayed the
utmost fondness for his sister-in-law, and all his attention was
devoted to her. He despatched a courier to his brother ;
but, as he was a hundred leagues distant, we knew that, he
could not arrive before we should either be without fear's or
without hopes ! ....
From the very first, Madame de Custines was in the ut
most danger, and on the third day M. Tronchin was called
in, and he gave her up. She was fully aware of her own
danger, asked for and received all the sacraments with hea
venly piety and resignation. She preserved her recollection
to the last. Several times she pressed us to go to bed ; and

MADAME DE GENLIS.^ 293
perceiving that we were determined on sitting up, she gave
orders that during the night cooling draughts should be pre
pared for us, along with lemonade and orgeat; she likewise
ordered biscuit and oranges to be kept in the salon. All
this she ordered with a coolness and unbroken attention that
claimed our admiration. There was but one couch in the
salon, and she wished there had been another, that we might
all three repose comfortably. On the second day, she re
quested me to read some religious books to her, and asked
me first to read the Quatre fins de I'homme of Nicole, point
ing out the passage on death we had often talked of together,
and which we thought the best ever written on that subject ;
but she hesitated, and told me, " No, that would give you
pain, read the Imitation." In a word, she maintained her
admirable disposition to the last. .On the fourth day of her
illness she passed a very bad night, her cough and violent
pains were incessant, but her patience and resignation were
unalterable. She sent for her confessor at two o'clock, and
at three received extreme unction. The fifth day of her
illness was beginning, and M. Tronchin, whom we had called
up, came at half-past three, ^e^prdered a soothing draught,
and when I left the room, I had not the courage to ask his
opinion, for I knew too well that all hope must be abandoned !
At four o'clock I went for a moment into the salon, to
breathe a little freely, that is to say, to weep without con
straint. The Viscount de Custine was there and in tears ;
I sat down beside him, and we shed torrents of tears for
more than an hour without uttering a single word ; in these
sorrowful moments I really loved him. Every thing be
comes sympathetic with two perons afflicted with the same
grief, and as long as it continues, those who weep and de
plore their mutual loss have their souls united in the closest
and most affecting harmony. At five o'clock I again went
into the room of my unfortunate friend. I found her much
quieter, and at six o'clock she told me that she no longer
suffered any pain. I looked at her ; she was pale, but there
was no part of her features altered or fallen in, and I was

294 ^ MEMOIRS OF
even so much struck with her beauty, that I went to bring
the viscount, who had remained in the salon; in fact, we
could not help feeling the revival of our hopes. It was
Sunday, and at eight o'clock Madame de Custines asked
me to read the mass aloud, and pressed me to go to church,
as she said she felt perfectly well. I even thought so my
self; she embraced me, and made her favourite book of
Hours be brought in and gave it to me with these words ;
"Keep it always!" The words made me shudder! I left
her, and had scarcely gone a few steps when she said —
" Pray to God for me .'," These were the last words I heard
her pronounce ! I went to mass, returned in three quarters
of an hour — she was no more ! She had just expired !*
I went back to the house of Madame de Puisieux in a
state of grief I cannot describe. The viscount came to
spend the greatest part of the day along with me, and this
was a consolation to us both ! for we were both so afflicted
and cast down that we could not converse together. He
also came the next day, and brought along with him the
charming children of her whom we deplored ! I was af
flicted at seeing them, and tipe same evening the unfortu-
* It was the lot of Madame de Custines to owe her virtues and reputa
tion to herself alone, for on her entrance into society she had neither guide
nor Mentor, as her mother-inrlaw resided in Lorraine : and yet without any
one to counsel or direct her, she committed not a single fault, because be
ing firm in her principles, and timid in her disposition, she never fell into
an imprudent step. She had great talents, and employed them only in im
proving her judgment and her heart ; rich, young, and beautiful as an an
gel, she always led a very retired life, never went to court but from duty,
to the theatre but from good-nature, and never appeared at a ball. Though
hasty, she was so indulgent, mild, and simple in all her habits, that her taste
for retirement and strictness of life looked more like indolence than any
thing else. When any one seemed to believe it, she was delighted. " I
would rather," said she to her friends, " be accused of indolence than of
singularity . " She was not indolent as a wife, a mother, or a friend ; never
was more activity shown in fulfilling all her domestic duties, and in doing
kind and valuable seryipes to her friends. Madame de Custines lived six
years after her introduction into society, and obtained the respect and con
sideration given to a woman of forty whose conduct has always been irre
proachably pure. — (Note by the Author.)

MADAME DE GENLIS. *• 295
nate Count de Custines arrived. His despair was inex
pressible. He immediately hurried to see me ; from that
moment we swore eternal friendship, and we were both
faithful to the engagement. During three weeks' time
I gave up the whole day to condole with him, with the
exception of two or three hours in the evening, which I
gave to Madame de Puisieux. He came every morning at
ten o'clock to breakfast with M. de Genlis and me; then,
if the weather permitted, we rode out together on horse
back or in the carriage ; on our return, the Comte de
Custines took us to dine with him, and we remained seclu
ded with him till six or seven in the evening. M. de Cus
tines gave me a portrait of his lady that was extremely like
her, and likewise one of his children. He added to these a
present that greatly affected me. To save me the trouble
of taking my harp to her house, Madame de Custines had
bought one very handsome stained and gilt, and an excellent
instrument; this the count sent to me with the key which
he had ordered to be made on purpose. The key was
made of gold, enamelled in black, with these words round
it — "Never forget her ."' For seven years I carefully pre
served this key, but at last it was stolen from me at Villers-
Coterets, along with a diamond pin and other jewels. I de
termined in my own mind never to play on the harp of Ma
dame de Custines any thing but religious music and plaintive
romances. The first thing I played on it was a romance on
the death of my incomparable friend, which at the same time
expressed her eulogium : it was in six couplets, to the air of
Gabrielle de Vergi — I have forgotten it, which I am sorry
for, as it was very affecting. When I sang it for the first
time, I could not finish even the first couplet ; and the first
sound I produced from the harp raised an inexpressible awe
within me — it seemed to me that it was my friend herself
who addressed me, and replied to me from the depths of the
tomb! .... It is very extraordinary how faithless our im
pressions are, and how they are weakened and altogether ef
faced by habit. The very harp which I could not cast my

296 MEMOIRS OF
eyes on without bursting into tears, when it was first brought ;
— the harp, the sounds of which had raised in me such trou
ble and emotion, became in after- times a very ordinary in
strument ! The only impressions which do not fade away, are
those that are connected with religious feelings, for they
alone will survive us.
Besides the romance I have just mentioned, I wrote in the
course of this year, a prose eloge of Madame de Custines,
which I lost along with many other manuscripts. Madame
de Custines died at twenty-four ; she was six months older
than me. She was married at seventeen, and lived seven
years in society, during which period she was a model of ex
quisite perfection. Her life was short, but pure, irreproach
able, and perfectly happy. I never saw such great beauty
in a young person of such a sound judgment, strict principles
and piety, joined to so much gayety, mildness, and indul
gence. She never went to balls or theatres, but thought it
quite natural that her friends should go. " I am eertain,"
said she to me, " that as you are fond of these amusements,
they are not dangerous to you ; but perhaps they might be
so to me." When I went to a ball, I almost always took
supper at her house, as she wished to see me dressed, and to
preside at my toilet. For six years I lived in the greatest
intimacy with her, and never perceived the slightest change
in her temper. If she had lived, my lot would have been
very different. As she had a complete ascendancy over
me, I would never have entered the Palais Royal, which
she had made me promise not to do, and which I would most
certainly have kept. Heaven took from me this dear friend
and faithful guide ; but if her life had been prolonged to a
mature age, she would have seen her husband and son perish
ing on the scaffold.*
* The Count de Custines, harassed by the accusations of Marat, and the
hatred of the Jacobins, was recalled from the army of the North, of which
he was commander-in-chief. He was accused of treason ; was condemned
and put to death on the 27th of August, 1793 ; his son survived him only
six months, and perished in the same manner on the 3d of January,- 1794.
— (Editor.)

MADAME DE GENLi.S. 297
For her own private interest, Madame de Montesson was
extremely desirous that I should enter the Palais Royal, and
she had no occasion to employ her influence for the purpose,
as the Duke of Orleans was himself desirous of it, for I
pleased him, and he thought I should not be altogether use
less to the furtherance of amusement during his long and fre
quent residence at Villers-Coterets. Besides, I had great
claims to a place in the household of the Duchess of Char
tres, since it was M. de Puisieux, the friend and counsellor
of the Duke of Penthievre, who had persuaded him to con
clude his daughter's marriage, for the character of thought
lessness and gallantry attributed to the Duke of Chartres
had given the Duke of Penthievre the greatest dislike to the
alliance. By great zeal and perseverance, M. de Puisieux
succeeded in persuading him. The Duke of Orleans openly
acknowledged the obligation. Hence, when it was well as
certained that I should not obtain the promised place in the
household of the Comtesse de Provence, my aunt told me
that it only depended on myself to obtain one at the Palais
Royal. I mentioned it to Madame de Custines, but she was
very strongly opposed to it, and mentioned her reasons,
which were sound and unanswerable. • She said that I ought
to stay with Madame de Puisieux till her death, and she
made me give her a promise that I would not enter the Palais
Royal. In fact, I told my aunt that gratitude kept me fixed
with Madame de Puisieux, and no more was said about the
matter. Within eight months Madame de Custines died,
after which I was more than three months without going into
society, and only returned to it in company with my aunt,
whom I had seen but very seldom since the death of my
friend. She took me often to the Palais Royal, and to Rain-
cy, which the Duke of Orleans had lately purchased. I
was again spoken to concerning a place in the household of
the young princess, whom I thought of a charming appear
ance and disposition, for never was a young princess seen so
kind and godd-natured. However I made no promises ; but
on my return to Paris, I told Madame de Puisieux, to whom
38

298 MEMOIRS OF
I had never yet mentioned it, all that had been said to me
on the subject, but I concealed one thing from her, the pro
mise I had given Madame de Custines, and all she had said to
me against it ! — But I enumerated all the advantages of this
place for a person with children — regiments in the gift of
the princes, and which were always given to the children or
sons-in-law of the ladies of honour, the places themselves
which they could give up to their daughters or daughters-in-
law, the favour of the princes, &c. — Madame de Puisieux
listened to me attentively, and hesitated between two con
tending interests — the pain of our separation on one hand,
and on the other, the brilliant figure she thought 1 would
make in a court famous for magnificence, refined taste, and
splendour. Though she had been formerly reckoned the
most lovely woman at court, from her wit and her unrivalled
beauty; yet I am quite certain that she never displayed the
same vanity in her own person, which she showed for me
now— for she sacrificed to it both her own happiness and
mine ! A single word from her against the proposal would
have sufficed to keep me with her. I asked her advice, and
said 1 should be wholly guided by her opinion. She replied
that, for the sake of my husband and children, I ought to ac
cept the offer. I wept, but offered no opposition.
It is with great pain that I write these details, for it is an
account of one of the greatest faults of my life. I think
that in memoirs, in which the writer has not promised to
give all his private history, he may, from respect to his own
character, pass over any very serious faults, unless they be
intimately connected with the events he is describing ; and
then he must make a free confession, and not attempt to
extenuate his errors. This I am going to do. 1 might say
that 1 was solely governed by the interest of my children,
that I made a maternal sacrifice of my own feelings and ad
vantage: if such had been the case, heaven would have
prospered the action ; but God, who knows the hearts of all,
knew my motives, and severely punished me as I deserved.
I certainly thought highly of the important advantages I

MADAME DE GENLIS. 299
should derive from it in establishing my children ; but had
I been without children, I should have equally desired the
place ; for I had given it up merely to increase the esteem
and friendship of Madame de Custines. After her death I
lost that generous emulation which elevates the soul, and
renders it capable of the noblest sacrifices. It seemed to
me that no one now existed of sufficient delicacy, undevia-
ting principle, and intimate acquaintance with my feelings,
to blame in me conduct that had nothing criminal in itself.
The admiration I had felt for Madame de Custines during
six years, the kind of enthusiasm raised in me by her emi
nent virtues, had conspired to make me guided by her
opinion instead of the testimony of my own conscience. In
fact, I had a feeling of the same kind towards Mademoiselle
de Mars in my childhood ; and have at all times given up
my own views for those of the persons I truly loved. This
is a kind of idolatry that may be removed by religious im
pressions, when those impressions are strong and well
founded, but they do not always succeed ; yet this danger
ous idolatry never humbled my mind, for I never loved any
one but from an ardent feeling of admiration, whether well
founded or not ; and exaggerated feelings to their utmost
loftiness only because I thought it necessary to merit and
preserve the attachment I inspired. I felt for Madame de
Puisieux a truly filial affection, yet I could not give her all
-my confidence. I disliked, as much as she did, subtlety of
mind, but I loved refinement of feeling, which she had not
the least idea of; and there was nothing at all romantic in
her disposition, while there was a great deal of the fanciful
in my imagination, so much so, that if I had expressed my
ideas to her just as they rose in my mind, we never should
have been able to understand each other, and she would
have laughed at my folly. As she was truly sincere in all
her ways, in spite of the grief she felt at our separation, she
urged M. de Genlis to take the step necessary to obtain the
place, and that was to ask it from the Duke of Orleans. M.
de Genlis Cared little about it, and declared he would not

300 MEMOIRS OF
consent to let me enter the Palais Royal unless he was at
tached to it himself. He asked and obtained the post of
captain of the guards of the Duke of Chartres, one of the
first places in the household, and worth six thousand francs,
while I had the place of lady of honour, which was worth
four. It was agreed that I should remain six weeks
longer with Madame de Puisieux, and this interval I spent
very unhappily. In my own mind I was delighted at the
thought of entering this splendid court, the refinement and
elegance of which had fascinated my imagination ; but I
could not conceal from myself that it would have been
more judicious in me to have remained with Madame de
Puisieux, and that in leaving her I was not only not doing
my duty, but was risking my peace of mind. Far from
making me the slightest reproach, she really believed she
had persuaded me to take this step, and had no doubt in
her own mind that I would rather have remained with her.
For the first time in my life 1 had been cunning and deceit
ful ; I had been so towards her and M. de Genlis, for I pre
tended to be perfectly indifferent about the place, and
highly chagrined, which I was not, at leaving Madame de
Puisieux, and that peaceful, tranquil life, that was to be
followed by so much dependance, tumult, and harassing
cares. When a fault forces an individual to abandon his
natural character, he suffers from it with double force.
I had always been delighted with the private conversation
of Madame de Puisieux hitherto, but it was now a real
punishment to me. Her caresses, confidence, and praises
cut me to the heart, for I knew that I was treacherous and
ungrateful, and was, consequently, sorrowful and dejected.
Constant uneasiness gave me the appearance of the deep
est chagrin,and the more Madame de Puisieux was affected
by it, the more bitter did my feehngs become.
At length came the fatal day on which -I was to enter the
Palais Royal ! Instead of setting out at one o'clock, as I
had agreed with Madame de Puisieux, I set out before she
rose, for the purpose of avoiding a farewell scene, that

MADAME DE GENLIS,. 301
would have torn my heart. It was with inexpressible emo
tion that I left that respectable mansion, where I had been
so tranquil and so beloved. A thousand ^inful, but now
useless reflections, rose in my imagination — at the age of
twenty-four, I was leaving the securest and most honoura
ble asylum, to inhabit a dangerous abode, in which I knew
I should find neither friend nor guide ! Hitherto courted,
and generally beloved, I had seen nothing but friendship
and good-will towards me ; I had not a single enemy, had
never felt the ill-will of any one, and never had the sem
blance of a quarrel ; I took a spotless character with me to
the Palais Royal, and was about to enter upon a new career.
I saw many snares and dangers scattered along my path,
but I saw splendour, and I was carried away by vanity,
curiosity, and presumption. We are seldom ruined by great
passions, for their danger is too clear, and when the dispo
sition is naturally good, all its resources are employed against
them, and it triumphs over their allurements ; but we never
sufficiently distrust a crowd of little childish feelings, that
seem to us totally harmless, and which gradually influence
our conduct and lead us into danger. Some adopt the dan
gerous practice of forming their opinion, and regulating their
conduct solely by what an action is by itself, and of lulling
their conscience by saying that it is altogether innocent.
They ought to reflect on its consequences, and seriously
consider whether their situation, temper, and private feel
ings do not render it dangerous or improper for them, though
it may he harmless to others. But when we feel an incli
nation for any thing, we take good care not to reckon thus,
though it is the very thing that ought to be done.
I left my room at nine o'clock in the morning. I was in
trepidation, and it seemed to me that I was escaping like a
criminal. On the stairs, I met several of the servants, who
bid me farewell with tears in their eyes ; and the worthy
Milot sobbed aloud and exclaimed: "Ah! how unhappy
Madame will be when she awakes! Oh! Madame la Com-

302 „¦ MEMOIRS OF
tesse, why will you leave us! You will never be loved so
much any where as you have been loved here." These
were his very Airds — they deeply affected me, and I could
only answer him with tears. I offered him my hand, and he
led me to my carriage. I gave him a note to Madame de
Puisieux, and departed. In driving along the street, 1 looked
back to the house till it was out of sight. I felt that 1 had
left in it all the tranquillity of my life, never more to be re
covered. In passing by the house formerly inhabited by Ma
dame de Custines, in the Rue de Bac, I cast my eyes on her
windows, and burst into tears.
As my apartments at the Palais Royal were not ready for
my reception, I stayed at first in what were called the petits
appartemens of the regent, as that prince had actually resi
ded in them. The decorations were still the same ; the al
cove of the bed-room, and all the pannels were covered
with mirrors and gilt gantelopes. They were situated at
the end of the large gallery, and had a private staircase and
door leading to the Rue de Richelieu, by which I entered.
My coachman wished to drive past a hackney-coach, on en
tering this street, and struck against a post ; the shock was
very violent, and I thought we should be overturned and
crushed to pieces ; I cried out, " Good God ! what an omen !"
but fear was all the injury I sustained. This incident com
pleted my dejection, and I entered these apartments, which
I had never seen before* with inexpressible sorrow and op
pression of heart. I sat down, and looked round with dis
gust upon all these mirrors, and all this boudoir magnificence.
I reflected that this spot had been the scene of the licentious
revels of the regency, and I regretted my pretty apartments
in the Hotel de Puisieux. 1 endeavoured to dissipate my
sorrow, by thinking of my new situation in the light by which
it had seduced me, but it was all in vain. I could no longer
consider any thing but its dependance and perils. The sim
ple truth chilled my imagination, and rendered me inacces
sible to the illusions of vanity. When the disposition is na-

MADAME DE GENLIS. 303
rurally good, judgment must occasionally interfere, and We
must either be guided by its dictates, or punished by its re
proaches. The society of the Palais Royal was then the most bril
liant and witty in Paris. Among the ladies there was the
Countess de Blot, maid of honour to the princess. She
was not now in the bloom of youth, but she had a very agree
able look, and elegant shape, and was very tasteful in her
dress. In different situations, she was no longer the same
individual. In a small unceremonious party, she was lively,
unaffected, and agreeable ; but when she wished to show off
and dazzle the company, she became full of affectation, .
preached instead of conversing, and maintained the most
tiresome arguments on sensibility and elevation of feeling.
There was nothing natural or unaffected in her conversation,
for she was continually falling into ridiculous exaggeration
or insufferable bombast. If avarice could permit any gran
deur of mind to survive, Madame de Blot would have had
lofty thoughts ; but I have known few persons more interest
ed or ambitious. She had no esteem for any thing but courtly
manners, bon ton, and politeness, and had an extremely deli
cate taste in this respect, which sometimes, however, was
carried to a childish excess. My other companions were,
the Comtesse de Clermont-Gallerand, formerly Comtesse
des Choisi, who had lately married a second husband. She
had lived very unhappily with her first husband, who was
killed at the battle of Minden ; at his death she was young
and beautiful, but without fortune, when M. de Clermont,
chamberlain of the Duke of Orleans, married her against
the inclination of his relatives, principally to please the
duke. Madame des Choisi was the friend of my aunt, who
did her great service on this occasion, but which she did not
return as she ought to have done. She was still beautiful,
but not pleasing, and far too fat. I never knew a woman so
changeable and capricious. Though she was not very witty,
she sometimes made ludicrous and striking repartees^ She
was at one time still, at another noisy and quarrelsome, or

304 MEMOIRS OF
extravagantly gay ; but she had something unaffected, origi
nal, and striking in her humour, and if she was often provo:
king, she was never tiresome, and related a story with great
talent. She was iharried at a very early age to M. des
Choisi, who was much older than her, and whose appearance,
it is said, was somewhat repulsive and crabbed ; and she told
a great many droll stories about him, the following amongst
the rest. — She had been eighteen months married, and was
sixteen years of age, when M. des Choisi, who had just pur
chased an estate fifty leagues from Paris, wished to reside
eight months upon it, and to take his wife with him. Ma
dame des Choisi had never been any where else but at the
Palais Royal, and was in despair at the thought of being
shut up in an old castle. She called the proposal the most
barbarous act of the most intolerable despotism, but when
she entered the carriage, she wiped off her tears, and durst
make no opposition, for M. des Choisi, with his crimson
handkerchief tied round his head (that was his travelling cos
tume) had such a terrible aspect, and cast such thundering
looks towards her, that the terror he inspired her with al
most drove away her sorrow. About the middle of the first
day they entered a town, and M. des Choisi wished to halt
and see the public buildings it contained. He asked his wife
to accompany him, but she answered, that she was so tired
already, that she wished for nothing but a little rest ; so he
left her at the inn, and the moment she was alone, she gave
herself up without restraint to the violence of her chagrin.
The hostess entered a few minutes afterward to offer her
some refreshment, and was greatly surprised at seeing this
young lady bathed in tears. On being asked the cause of
her grief, Madame des Choisi took it into her head to tell
her that she had been carried off by an ugly Turk, who was
taking her to his seraglio at Constantinople. The story
greatly alarmed the hostess: "1 am not astonished at it,"
said she, " truly this Turk is much at his ease, for he has
not left off the turban which we thought so wonderful."
She then proposed to apply to the magistrates, and to make

MADAME DE GENLIS. 305
this wicked Turk be arrested ; but Madame des Choisi would
not consent, and said she was resigned to her fate. The
hostess properly replied, that this was no case of resignation
at all, and insisted on her advice, being adopted. To get
rid of her, Madame des Choisi asked for an hour to reflect
on the proposal, telling her, at the same time, that the Turk
would not return in less than threa hours. The hostess left
her, and alarmed the whole household ; and the servants
swore mightily that they would not allow the Turk to carr}'
off the young lady to make a pagan heretic of her. In a
few minutes M. des Choisi returned, arid was excessively
surprised at the reception he met with, for they told him
plainly that he would not be allowed to carry off the young
lady, who was taken under the protection of the hostess and
her household, and that he might go back to Turkey by
himself. M. des Choisi called his servants, and as explana
tion was entirely out of the question, they were preparing to
fight, when Madame des Choisi, who had heard all the noise,
unexpectedly appeared among them, and entreated the host
ess and her servants to lay down their arms. As M. des
Choisi had pulled out his hunting knife, and showed a fear
less look, as well as his two servants, the courage of the as
sailants was greatly shaken, and they very quietly obeyed
the entreaty. When Madame des Choisi was asked the
cause of all this by her husband, she confessed it all in the
presence of the hostess, who pretended to believe her, but
who remained, notwithstanding, ever after persuaded of the
truth of the first story, told by a lady so very young and in
genuous. The people of the inn allowed the husband and
wife to depart without opposition, but they pitied the fate of
the interesting victim.
The Countess of Polignac, daughter of the Countess de
Rumin, was, myself excepted, the ybungest lady of honour
of the Duchess of Chartres. She had been two years
a widow, and was mother of a child then five or six years
old, who afterward became Madame de Chambord. The
Countess of Polignac was not pretty, but her petite size.
39

306 MEMOIRS OF
small feet, beautiful httle hands, agreeable took, and some
thing infantine in her whole demeanour, gave her altoge
ther an appearance of grace and fascination. She was kind
and agreeable ; I always lived in harmony with her, and
her death, which took place a few years after greatly affect
ed me.
There were some ladjes at the Palais Royal who had
been attached to, the late Duchess of Orleans. They kept
their former apartments, and came often to dine and sup
with the young princess. One of these ladies was the Mar
quise de Barbantane, of the same age as Madame Blot, and
one of her intimate friends. She had been lady of honour
to the late duchess, and afterward governess of the Duchess
of Bourbon, sister of the Duke of Chartres. She took
charge of the young princess at fifteen years of age, and act
ed as her governess till she was introduced into society,
which was two or three years after my entrance into the
Palais Royal, Madame de Barbantane was said to have
been handsome, but nothing of it remained at the time I am
speaking of. Her nose was of a fiery red colour, her look
vulgar, and her carriage cold and affected. Much praise
was given to her habits and talents, but she was generally
reckoned to want sincerity and unaffectedness. At our
first meeting she became my declared enemy? and remained
so ever afterward ; hence, I will say nothing about her dis
position, for my evidence ought not to be taken.* The
old Marchioness of Polignac, whose face was exactly like a
* My recollection of old grievances does not in the least prevent me find
ing great pleasure, in defending her against a charge made in the spurious
memoirs of Baron de Bezenval. It is therein stated, that Madame de Bar
bantane had, in her youth, been mistress of the old Duke of Orleans. It
is an abominable falsehood. It is true that the Duke of Orleans was in
love with her for a long time, but Madame de Barbantane never gave him
the smallest hope, and this fact was known to every one at the Palais Roy
al. She owed to her good conduct and the high esteem of the Duke of Or
leans, the place she afterward obtained, of governess of the Duchess of Bour
bon. In the sequel, I shall enter into more details concerning those memoirs,
falsely attributed to the Baron de Bezenval.— (Note by the Author.)

MADAME DE GENLIS. 307
monkey's, was lively, witty, and satirical ; and though very
severe in her reflections on others, she was generally liked,
because there was a certain abruptness in her manners and
conversation, that gave her the appearance of frankness
and sincerity. She obtained the kind of esteem usually
granted to witty persons, who are memorable for their bon
mots, and repartees, when they do not use them so profuse
ly as to acquire the hateful character of ill-nature. She
was courted, because she was amusing ; and flattered, be
cause she was feared. Her talents and sincerity gave
great weight to her suffrage, so that it was generally courted,
and was reckoned of the utmost importance to the success
of a young lady. She was intimately acquainted with soci
ety, and was aware that it never holds up to scorn the er
rors and foibles of clever persons, who are bold and care
less in their bearing, and who keep up a firm and un
daunted countenance in the most embarrassing situations.
M. de Valence, a man of great talent, told me one day,
that the only way never to be ridiculed in society was, not
to take the ridicule, for when it is gayly and unhesita
tingly laughed at, it makes not the slightest impression' —
and nothing could be more correct. The marchioness had
formerly had the Comte de Maillebois for a lover, and, far
from concealing it, she gloried in avowing- the fact ; at this
period she still preserved a strong attachment to him, and
though nothing could be more ridiculous at her age, and
with her appearance, she laughed at it herself with so much
original humour, that criticism was altogether disarmed.
She had visited Madame du Barri, to obtain some advantage
for M. de Mallebois, and though nothing could be reckoned
more improper by the general voice of society, particular
ly by that of the Palais Royal, yet no notice was taken of it,
because she was not the least embarrassed concerning the
business, and told every one that as she had not taken this
step for her own advantage, she was certain that every per
son would excuse her who knew what love was.

308 MEMOIRS OF
Another old lady, the Comtesse de Rochambault, gover
ness of the children of the princes of the house of Orleans,
in their early years, was now far advanced in life, but had
the most serene and happy old age ever beheld. It was the
just recompense of a virtuous, pure, and spotless life ; she
was sincerely pious, gay, and good-tempered, told a story
exceedingly well, and her memory, in recalling short and
amusing anecdotes, was altogether inexhaustible. I never
heard her tell a story twice, unless she was particularly de
sired. , She was incapable of doing an ill-natured thing,
from her kind disposition and sound principles, and was as
good as she was amiable.
The old Countess of Montauban, mother of Madame de
CJermont, was likewise a very good sort of lady, with
nothing remarkable about her except absence of mind, and
a ridiculous fondness for good cheer. She was rather
clever, and even was an author, for she had published an
oriental tale, , which was an insipid production, but yet af
forded no subject for ridicule. She was much given to
play, but more from habit and idleness than from inclina
tion. While playing at pharaon one day, she made what is
called a paroli de campagne, that is, a move in her favour
against the rules of the game, which the banker perceiving,
he politely told her of it, but she replied withouttthe slight
est emotion : " That may be so — but it is an eagerness very
pardonable in a ponte." Another time, a person who played
deep was standing behind her, and put his arm over her
shoulder to lift an immense number of louis he had just
won, but on drawing his arm back again, he let more than
three-fourths of the money fall on her back, upon which
she suddenly turned round to him, and exclaimed : " What !
Sir, do you take me for a Danae." She rose and shook
off the golden shower, which made the gambler insinu
ate, that she had made the gros dos only to prevent him
getting the whole of his money. She again sat down
very coolly to the game, and very properly told him that

• MADAME DE GENLIS. 309
!
twerity-four hours were allowed for the payment of debts of
honour, that this was not one of that kind, and that he might
wait with patience till the next morning. In fact, when
she undrest, some of the gold was found, which she scrupu
lously sent back. Her son, the Abbe de Montauban, was
in all respects perfectly pleasing, sprightly, and virtuous.
His conversation was keen, and full of argument, but always
easy and agreeable; and though firm in every thing con
nected with religious principle, on indifferent subjects he
supported either side of the question, but always without
irritation, and with infinite gayety and grace. Conversation
never languished while he was in company. He was after-
Ward Bishop of Nancy, and displayed great talents, learn
ing, and piety in the government of his diocese. He hasten- .
ed out of France at the revolution, and went to Spain,
where he immediately enrolled himself among the hermits.
of Montserrat, lived several years in this seclusion, and died
like a saint.
It remains for me to describe the other gentlemen of the
Palais Royal, and 1 ought to begin with the prince.
The Duke of Chartres was then in all the bloom of youth,
with a worn-out countenance, derived from the blood he
received from his mother, and from his own licentious
course of life ; in person he was sprightly, dignified, and
elegant. The Count de Pont St. Maurice, his governor,
had paid attention to three things only in his education;
to make him polite, to give him pleasing and dignified man
ners, and to teach him bon ton — the rest he had left wholly
to the care of the tutors. The latter were perfectly quali
fied to give him sound learning, but the governor.thought so
little of the cultivation of the mind, that the prince soon
perceived it, and found it extremely convenient to adopt his
indifference. • His sub-governor was M. de Fonceiriagne, of
the French Academy, a very distinguished literary charac
ter; and the Abbe Alary, a virtuous, able, and learned
clergyman was his tutor. The two preceptors in vain
urged their pupil to study, arid complained of his idleness

310 MEMOIRS OF
to the governor without effect. Satisfied with his language
and manners, M. de Pont showed too clearly that he thought
all the rest of very little consequence. M. de Foncemagne
and the Abbe Alary became disheartened, and continued
their lessons merely for form's sake, as they saw they were
of no real use — and the prince learned nothing. Yet he
was not deficient either in talent, memory, or understand
ing, and early announced benevolent inclinations. The
following instance of the latter I was told by M. de Fonce
magne. When the prince was only in his fifteenth year, he
already gave levees in the morning to the gentlemen who
came from the levees of the Duke of Orleans ; arid amongst
the number were officers of every rank belonging to the
regiments of the two princes. He took particular notice
of an Officer, who was remarkable for his fine person and
melancholy look. He was told that this officer was very
poor, as he gave almost the whole of his pay for the sup
port of his mother and two sisters, who had nothing else to
depend on. After hearing this account, he saved the whole
of his pocket-money for two months, which amounted to
forty louis d'or ; but he was much embarrassed how to offer
them, till at last he received a baptismal present of sugar
plums. He then wrapped up small parcels of the sugar
plums in paper, and when the poor officer came to his levee,
he told him in a jocular strain, that as he had received a
present of some sugar-plums, he would give all the com
pany a share of them. The officer found his so heavy, that
he started with surprise, but the young prince made him a
sign to say nothing ; however he had no sooner left the
palace, than his gratitude was more incautious than his
surprise, for he 4old the incident to several persons, so that
it soon became generally known. I had heard of it long
before, but M. de Foncemagne confirmed the correctness of
the details.
When the young prince's education was completed, the
first paternal care of the Duke of Orleans was to give him
a mistress — a girl whom an abandoned wretch was bring-

, MADAME DE GENLIS. 31 1
ing up as a courtesan, and sold to him as quite new. The
girl was fifteen years of age, she was the famous Mademoi
selle Duthe, who afterward ruined my brother-in-law, and
many other persons. The Duke of Orleans boasted of
this action as a very kind and prudent precaution to preserve
his son's health. What moral habits could be expected
from an unfortunate young man receiving this first lesson
from a father ! After this, the Duke of Orleans, far from
giving his son virtuous friends, encouraged him to form an
intimate acquaintance with the wildest and most dissipated
youths of the court, the Chevalier de Coigny, Messieurs de
Fitz-James, de Conflans, &c. Yet the young prince, of
his own accord, distinguished a virtuous and sensible indi
vidual, fourteen years older than himself, the Chevalier de
Duif jrt, belonging to the Palais Royal. He was sincerely
attached to him ; in fact, he was the only man he ever really
loved, though the chevalier would never join his private
parties, but declined the honour with excuses that were not
calculated to give him very correct ideas of morality — for
he told him, that a private attachment prevented him in
dulging in that kind of dissipation ; and without condemning
the prince, or endeavouring to profit by the ascendancy he
had over him, he refused merely to be the accomplice of
his errors-: — though he was so in reality, by not attempting
to extricate him from them, which he could then have
done. When the Duke of Chartres entered into public
life, at seventeen, he was greatly struck with the affecta
tion and prudery of the ladies of the Palais Royal, of whom
his father's society was composed ; and to undermine this
parade of extravagant feelings, he amused himself by sup
porting the opposite doctrines, and rushing into the other
extreme, he affected complete insensibility, and likewise a
careless indifference for subjects in which such a feeling is
highly improper ;N and this, too, almost always against his
own conscience and real opinion. This spirit of opposi
tion afterward became a pernicious habit, which gradually
altered the soundness of his judgment, and the native good-

312 MEMOIRS OF
ness of his heart. As he displayed much politeness, hu
mour, and gayety in these discussions, he had always the
laugh on his side ; but the sect of sentimentalists, finding
themselves often embarrassed by his arguments, naturally
imbibed a strong feeling of pique arid ill-will against him,
and revenged themselves by defaming his heart, principles,
and disposition. Hence arose the first attacks upon his
character. It soon became the general belief, that the
Duke of Chartres, possessed of talent, grace, politeness,
and pleasing and dignified manners, had yet a hard and un
feeling heart — which was by no means the case. In con
sequence of this belief, many imaginary wrongs were attri
buted to him, and he was grossly calumniated; but though
he knew it, instead of endeavouring to bring back public
opinion, he took the fatal step of despising it, or of holding
it at defiance altogether. He Has often been seen, in the
sequel, disdaining to defend himself against the most odious
charges, when a single word would have sufficed.
The other persons belonging to the Palais Royal remain
to be considered.
I have already mentioned the Count de Pont St. Mau
rice, who had been governor of the Duke of Chartres, and
who was now first gentleman of the chamber to the Duke
of Orleans. At this period, he was about fifty years of age,
had a fine person, and a majestic look ; no one was so well
acquainted with etiquette, arid the usages of society ; he
was quoted as the model of politeness ; nothing was more
dignified than his language, and in spite of his profound ig
norance, his conversation was by no means unpleasing.
Madame de Pont, the widow of a wealthy banker, (M. Ma-
zade,) had married him for love. Her person was still hand
some, but her face was common ; she was not very clever,
but she had some learning, and a great deal of pedantry ; her
habits were strictly correct, her temper cold and sour, her
manners dry and ceremonious, and her conversation silly
and uninteresting. M. and Madame de Pont presented a
perfect picture of conjugal love, and even in the most tri-

MADAME DE GENLIS. 313
fling incidents of their lives they were so inseparable, that
they were always seated beside each other, even at dinners
of the utmost pomp and ceremony. The one never went
out without the other ; and it was asserted, that during the
whole fifteen years that they - had been married, not the
most trifling dispute had arisen between them, or even the
slightest difference of opinion. The Count de Pont had
a talent truly unique for playing comedy ; I believe I have
already mentioned his singular skill in performing the cha
racter of the Misanthrope.
The Chevalier de Durfort was not a man of talent,
but was well-informed, of accomplished manners, regular
habits, (according to the courtesy of society,) and displayed
such delicate attentions to the ladies, that he was a great
favourite with them. I never liked him because he wanted
sincerity, and affected an enthusiasm for talent, literature,
and the arts, which he did not feel, and which, in fact,
he could not feel, from the confined nature of his acquire
ments. The Count de Thiars, brother of the Count de Bis-
sy, was reckoned the most amiable man of our society.
Though he was remarkably ugly, he had given rise to cele
brated passions : he had but one kind of talent, that of con
versation, which is sufficient for society; he wrote some
wretched songs, the verses of which were incorrect both in
measure and rhyme, and yet such things are sufficient to
fascinate some ladies. He composed a detestable little
novel, which, however, he had the prudence never to pub
lish. He had read it with great mystery to several persons,
who mentioned it to me as a masterpiece. I had then
been eight months at the Palais Royal, abd as M. de Thiars
treated me with distinguished attention, I easily obtained
permission to hear it read to a very small party. I expected
something light and agreeable, and I heard the silliest story
that any one ever had the folly to write. He pretended
that he had put a great many satirical allusions into it, but
I could not perceive one of them, for every thing seemed
40

314 MEMOIRS OF
equally trifling and common-place, and there were neither
portraits, nor pointed wit, nor natural description in the
work. At each pretended allusion he looked at me, and
seeing at length that I did not understand one of them, he
fell into a pet immediately, in spite of all the praises lavish
ed on him plentifully by the rest of the company, who were
listening to this little, chef d'auvre for the third or fourth
time. 1 was in the utmost trouble, for 1 could not feel
rapturously delighted; yet I made great efforts to smile,
and said from time to time that is charming, but at mere
hazard, reluctantly, and I have no doubt with a very foolish
and downcast countenance, because I saw very plainly that
they were displeased at me, and had formed a very bad
opinion of my talents and judgment. Here began my
aversion to the perusal of literary works in company, which
I have so often ridiculed since. M. de Thiars never forgot
that1 1 had not admired and spoken with rapture of his book.
In other respects he was really lively, amusing, mild, witty,
and altogether highly agreeable.
The Viscount de Schomberg was very clever and well
informed, and had an open, sincere disposition ; and though
not ugly, there was something silly in his carriage, look,
and conversation, and an indescribable awkwardness in his
gestures that rendered him unpleasing. He knew innu
merable passages of poetry, and recited them in the most
ludicrous manner. My aunt took a fancy for playing
Zaire, which was done at Bagnolet, in a house the Duke
of Orleans then possessed there. M. de Schomberg took
the character of Orosmane, and never, assuredly, will such
an Orosmane he seen again. The spectators kept their
handkerchiefs to their faces to restrain the violence of their
laughter — never in my life did I laugh so immoderately as
at the beautiful pause —
" Je ne suis point jaloux — Si je l'etais jamais !  " ¦
He made such a singular gesture, and such an extraordinary

MADAME DE GENLIS. 315
grimace, that a stifled laugh burst from every one in the
theatre ; he thought he had produced a prodigious effect,
and assumed an air of satisfaction that made him so com
pletely ridiculous, that several persons could not hold a
moment longer, but rushed abruptly out of the house, to
enjoy their laughter without constraint. The afterpiece
was Le Roi et le Fermier, in which I played the character
of the little girl. My aunt performed Zaire very badly,
which was excusable enough with such an Orosmane. We
had found him bad at the rehearsals, but he greatly sur
passed himself in the actual performance. He was an ar
dent, admirer of Voltaire, had made several journeys to
Ferney, kept up a regular correspondence with the patri
arch, and was, consequently, a philosopher, that is, impious
in the extreme. He boasted of being an atheist, yet, like
Hobbes, had an insurmountable terror of ghosts. When
ever he met a funeral, or any of his acquaintance died, he
made his valet sleep beside his bed for several nights after
ward. Yet he had shown the most distinguished gallantry
in war ; and it was he who fought with M. Lefort, an officer
of his own regiment, the famous duel in which the comba
tants knelt down on the same cloak, and fired their pistols
at each other. M. Lefort was shot dead on the spot ; and
M. de Schomberg, who was not the least hurt, gave an
annuity to his widow, and paid for the education of his
children. I know not whether it would have been proper
to refuse the money necessary for the education of her chil
dren, if she really could do nothing for them, but this 1 am
certain of; that it would have been more seemly in her to
have supported herself by manual labour, or to have gone
to service, than to have received for herself an annuity
from her husband's murderer. M. de Schomberg was con
verted by the revolution, when he went to Dresden; and
four or five years afterward, died in sentiments of the great
est piety. In spite of his philosophism, (which he imbibed
solely from the flatteries of Voltaire,) and the mania of bel
esprit, I was very fond of him ; his conduct was always kind,

316 MEMOIRS OF
and perfectly proper towards me, and I found him a firm
friend on all occasions. In my presence he never spoke
about religion, as I had made him promise that he would not.
He liked the company of women only ; and as he never had
been a great favourite with them himself, he thought pro
per to be satisfied with the character of confidant. He had
such an officious and interesting way of interfering in all
their affairs, of whatever nature they might be, that at last he
became absolutely necessary to their comfort ; while, either
from a pre-concerted system, or from natural simpHcity of
mind, he made them think he believed all he was told, and
never suspected any exaggeration, artifice, or concealment.
While thus engaged, he preserved an unfortunate passion
for one of his friends, which, though he never told, was
clearly perceived, and gratefully remembered by the indi
vidual. This was Madame de Blot, for whom he felt an
, attachment during the space of ten years, at the very time
he was her confidant and likewise that of her lover, the
Count de Frize. It was from him that I took the idea of
the character of the Baron, in the Vceux Temeraires.
The Count de Valency, brother of the Marquis d'Es-
tampes, and a relation of M. de Genlis, was also attach
ed to the Palais Royal. His disposition was full of kind
ness and good-nature, so that he was exceedingly pleas
ing in saciety. He had a strong passion for the fine arts,
particularly for painting, concerning which his conversa
tion was very interesting, as he was an excellent connois
seur. No one could play better than him the characters
of lovers in the comedies of Marivaux. The Count de
Blot, husband of the lady of honour, was, without excep
tion, the most shallow-minded man ever seen in society.
From the sentimental theories that his wife was continually
maintaining he had caught some high-sounding phrases,
which he was always misplacing in conversation ; and as he
was likewise desirous of pleasing the Duke of Chartres, he
mingled with this pedantry an extreme affectation of gayety.
The nonsense of his serious manner, and the heaviness of

MADAME DE GENLIS. 317
his attempts at wit, gave him a most ludicrous species of ori
ginality ; but, as he was, in other respects, a very good kind
of man, people were amused by his foibles, without holding
them up to ridicule, and he was himself persuaded that he
was greatly admired in the private parties of the Palais
Royal 
The Count d'Osmond was witty, absent, and unaffected,
and beloved by every orie. The Vicomte de Latour du
Pin had a cultivated mind, was of a frank, gay, and obliging
disposition, possessed pleasing accomplishments, and was an
excellent performer of proverbs and comedies. The Vi
comte de Clermont had at that time a fine person, which
was rather injured by nervous affections. He read a great
deal, but had the misfortune not only to be attacked with
the mania of quotations, but of making them almost always
incorrectly. The Baron de Poudens, first maitre d'hotel, was a man of
very sound judgment, and of an excellent heart, and so well
disposed to think well of others, that he neither saw nor
suspected the most barefaced piece of ill-nature. Apart
from all rivalships, he spent forty years at the Palais Royal,
without even suspecting, that during that whole space of
time a single quarrel had taken place. He believed that we
lived in the most intimate union with each other, and that
this court was, without exception, composed of the best
people on the face of the earth. The praises he indiscrimi
nately bestowed were ludicrous enough, for he eulogised
the simplicity and candour of persons who were distinguished
for very opposite qualities. I thought there was something
affecting in this want of tact, which really sprung from a
kindliness of disposition, resembling that of the golden age.
The Marquis de Barbantane was not deficient in talent,
but he was extremely satirical, extravagantly polite, and not
very conversable. He possessed neither the accomplish
ments, the bold and open disposition, nor the liveliness of his
brother, the Chevalier de Barbantane. Besides these per
sons, there were at the Palais Royal, Monsieur and Madame

318 MEMOIRS OF
de St. Felix. The latter had been attached to the late
Duchess of Orleans, and was a lady of the greatest merits,
from her virtue, excellent disposition, and irreproachable
conduct. Her husband was distinguished for the same
qualities ; they both lived very retired, and seldom came to
dine with the princess.
Besides some persons who did not reside in the Palais
Royal, whom I have already mentioned, there were often
present, on private days, Monsieur and Madame Duchatelet,
who afterward perished on the scaffold. M. Duchatelet
was solemn and silent, but was said to be a man of great
merit, and the memoirs he left behind him indicate an ex
cellent heart. Madame Duchatelet always maintained an
irreproachable conduct, and never interfered in a single in
trigue. It was she whom the Duchesse de Grammont de
fended with so much courage and energy before the revo
lutionary tribunal. M. de Talleyrand,* (who escaped from
France at the time, and came to England, where I then
was,) related to us the particulars, in the most pathetic man
ner. Far from defending herself, when called before the
revolutionary tribunal, Madame de Grammont thought only
of her friend, who was present at the examination, and pre
served a profound silence, with her hands clasped together,
and her eyes bent on the ground. The following were the
exact words of Madame de Grammont : " That you should
put me to death — I, who despise and abhor you — I,' who
would have wished to rouse all Europe against you — that
you should send me to the scaffold — nothing is more natu
ral ; but what has this angel (pointing to Madame Duchate
let) done to you — she who has borne every suffering without
complaint, whose whole life has been distinguished only by
actions of kindness and humanity?" The two ladies, as
well as Monsieur Duchatelet, were hurried off to the guillo
tine ! . . . .
Among the other individuals whom it remains for me to
mention, was the Marquis de Durfort, who was called the
* Afterward Prince Talleyrand.

MADAME DE GENLIS. 319
great Durfort. Uprightness and good-nature were said to
make him agreeable in society ; he had nothing striking but
a handsome and dignified person, and he was highly and de
servedly esteemed. The mysterious count, afterward Due
de Chabot, never spoke in company but to give a very
brief answer, or to whisper a few words about himself to
two or three individuals, who afterward quoted his sayings
with a species of enthusiasm. His brother, the Vicomte
de Jarnac, was considered to be a finished model of polite-
. ness and urbanity, loved the arts, and was an accomplished
connoisseur. The Chevalier d'Oraison, whose disposition
and manners were strikingly original, and in the most plea
sing sense of the expression — was a man of prodigious
learning, and the only one who made a daily use of it in
company, without ever being reckoned pedantic. He re
lated the most remarkable sayings and characteristics of the
ancients, but always a propbs, carelessly and briefly ; and
mingled with his learned talk such pretty trifles of amuse
ment, and short witty anecdotes of common life, that his
whole conversation had such features of simplicity and live
liness, that every appearance of affectation Was dispelled.
The Marechal de Castries was much less agreeable. His
friends had given him a great name as a statesman ; his con
duct in war had secured him a very brilliant one as a general,
and in society he had the modesty to be a perfect nullity.
At this period* grand recollections and recent traditions
still maintained in France good principles, sound ideas, and
national virtues, already somewhat weakened by pernicious
writings, and a reign full of faults ; but in the city and at
court, there were still found that refined taste and that ex
quisite politeness, of which every Frenchman had a right
to be proud, since, throughout all Europe, it was univer
sally held to be the most perfect model of grace, elegance,
and dignity. Several ladies, and some few great lords, were
then met with in society, who had seen Louis XIV., and
. * About 1779.

320 MEMOIRS OF
they were respected as the wrecks of a great age. Youth
became restrained' in their company, and naturally became
silent, modest, and attentive; they were listened to with
profound interest, for they seemed to be the organs of his
tory. They were consulted concerning etiquette and the
usages of society ; their suffrage was of the utmost import
ance to those who were entering into public life ; in a word,
contemporaries of so many great men of all kinds, these
venerable characters seemed placed in society to maintain
the ancient feelings of politeness, glory, and patriotism, or,
at least, to delay their melancholy decline. But in a short
time, the influence of these feelings scarcely appeared except
in an elevated style, in a simple theory of delicate and gene*
rous conduct. Virtue was retained only from the remains
of good taste, which still held in esteem its language and ap
pearance. Every one, to conceal his own way of thinking,
became stricter in observing the bienseances ; the most re
fined ideas were sported in conversation concerning deli
cacy, greatness of mind, and the dutie^ of friendship ; and
even chimerical virtues were fancied, which was easy
enough, considering that the happy agreement of conversa
tion and conduct did not exist. But hypocrisy always be
trays itself by exaggeration, for it never knows when to
stop ; false sensibility has no shades, never employs any but
the strongest colours, and heaps them on with the most ridi
culous prodigality.
There now appeared in society a very numerous party of
both sexes, who declared themselves the partisans and de
positories of the old traditions respecting taste, etiquette,
and morals themselves, which they boasted of having brought
to perfection ; they declared themselves supreme arbiters of
all the proprieties of social life, and claimed for themselves
exclusively the high-sounding appellation of good company.
Every person of bad ton, or licentious notoriety, was exclu
ded from the society ; but to be admitted, neither a spotless
character nor eminent merit was necessary. Infidels, devo
tees, prudes, and women of light conduct were indiscrimi-

MADAME DE GENLIs. 321
nately received. The only qualifications necessary were
bon ton, dignified manners, and a certain respect in society,
acquired by rank, birth, and. credit at court, or by display,
wealth, talent, and personal accomplishments. Whenever
claims are firmly and perseveringly supported, though they
be not well-founded, they give the persons who make them
a certain footing and consideration in society, when they are
wealthy, clever, and keep a good table. Sharp-sighted
people and keen observers may laugh at them ; but the pub
lic yield, as the very obstinacy of their pretensions seems to
give them a just right. Though the dandies are despised
by the ladies, yet they are reckoned hommes a^bonnes for
tunes. Bustling and self-important individuals without in
fluence deceive no one ; yet they "are courted and flattered
by the votaries of ambition and intrigue, who reckon it pru
dent to engage them in their interests. Prudes obtain the
external respect due to virtue ; pedants without real learn
ing, enjoy in conversation almost all the deference paid to
the learned. When we reflect on the never-failing success
of claims perseveringly supported, who would attach much
importance to the suffrages of society.
The usurping and arrogant circle I have just mentioned,
that society so contemptuous towards every other, roused up
against itself a hostof enemies ; but as it received among its
members every man of well-known merit, or of high fashion
from his rank or situation, the enmity it inspired was evi
dently the effect of envy, only gave it more eclat, and the
unanimous voice of, the public, designated it by the title of
the grand society, which it retained till the revolution. This
did not mean that it was the most numerous, but that, in the
general opinion, it was the most choice and brilliant by the
rank, personal estimation, ton and manners of those who
composed it. There, in the parties too numerous to claim
confidence, and at the same time not sufficiently so to pre
vent conversation — there, in parties of fifteen or twenty
individuals, were, in fact, united all the ancient French po
liteness and grace. All the means of pleasing and fascina-
41

J22 MEMOIRS OF
ling were combined with infinite skill. They felt that to
distinguish themselves from low company and ordinary so
cieties, it was necessary they should preserve the ton and
manners that were the best indications of modesty, good
nature, indulgence, decency, mildness, and elevated senti
ments. Thus good taste of itself taught them that to daz
zle and fascinate, it was necessary to horrow all the forms
of the most amiable virtues. Politeness, in these assem
blies, had all the ease and grace which it can derive from
early habit and delicacy of mind ; slander was banished
from the public parties, for its keenness could not have been
well combined with the charm of mildness that each person
brought into the general store. Discussion never degenera
ted into personal dispute. There existed in all their per
fection, the art of praising without insipidity and without
pedantry, and of replying to it without either accepting or
despising it ; — of showing off the good qualities of others
without seeming to protect them; and of listening with
obliging attention. If all these appearances had been found
ed on moral feeling, we should have seen the golden age of
civilization. Was it hypocrisy ? No — it was the external
coat of ancient manners preserved by habit and good taste,
which always survive the principles that produced them ;
but which, having no longer any solid basis, gradually loses
its original beauties, and is finally destroyed by the inroads
of refinement and exaggeration.
In the less numerous circles of the same society, much
less caution was observed, and the ton, still strictly deco
rous, was much more piquant. No one's honour was at
tacked, for delicacy always prevailed ; yet under the de
ceitful vails of secrecy, thoughtlessness, and absence of
mind, slander might go ori without offence. The most
pointed arrows "Of malice were not excluded, provided they
were skilfully aimed and without any apparent ill-will on the
part of the speaker, for no one could speak of his avowed
enemies. To amuse themselves with slander, it required to
arise from an unsuspected source, and to be credible in its

MADAME DE GENUS. * 323
details. Even iii the private parties of the society, malig
nity always paid respect to the ties of blood, friendship, gra
titude, and intimate acquaintance; but beyond that, all
others might be sacrificed without mercy. No one's reputa
tion was branded — but the society held bad ton, vulgar and
provincial manners up to scorn, and ridiculed every one
they disliked — .which was actually sacrificing them on the al
tar of public scorn, for their frivolous decrees had the force
of law. This, too, was a natural consequence. Wherever
an association is generally regarded as superior to every
other of the same kind, there exists a tribunal, from whose
sentences there is no appeal.
To whom can we appeal, when there exists no sove
reign power to whom we can have recourse ? When we
find no longer persons forming a pre-eminent society, esta
blished by unanimous consent, the arbiters of good taste,
the dispensers of praise, and judges of propriety, the power
of ridicule is weakened ; and this is the reason why nothing
is ridiculous among nations uncivilized or sunk into barba
rism ; and even among those which have been long agita
ted by political convulsions. After these convulsions are
over, the most essential and speedy step to be taken is the
re-establishment of order ; but the graces cannot be organ^
ized ; they cannot be recalled by edicts ; they easily take
flight, but it requires a long time to recal them. The only
subject of ridicule which can exist in the decay of good
taste is that of folly united to insolence ; this will be always
universally felt, in all countries and in all nations.
In order to finish my picture of the highest circles of the
eighteenth century, I must add, that in the most private of
its Coteries, it was requisite that the scandal should be as it
were divided ; for any one person who should have under
taken to retail it would have soon become odious. It was
also necessary, even in the coirimerce of scandal, to mingle
in the narration something of grace, gayety, or whim; mere
scandal is always a melancholy affair, and is always coarse
and v.ulgar ; besides it would have contrasted ill with the

3U24 f * MEMOIRS OF f
habitual tone of these circles : it would have been in a bad
and low taste. ?¦.
But the fault for which there was no Redemption, which
nothing could excuse, was meanness, either in manners or
language, or in actions, when such a thing could be tho
roughly proved. It was not that the principles of society
were so lofty as to inspire indignation at a mean action,
which should have obtained its perpetrator a large fortune"
or an excellent place ; but there is still among us more va
nity than cupidity, and as long as pride preserves that cha
racter, it will sometimes resemble greatness of mind. When
a mean action which turned out profitably was performed
with certain precautions, and in a certain way, it was easy to
feign a belief that it was only a necessary step in a system
of laudable though selfish policy ; and, like the thieves
among the Lacedaemonians, only the awkward were punished.
There were rarely seen, at least at this period, any instances
of shameless meanness, and this is saying a great deal. At
court there were no examples of one friend supplanting
another, or a fallen minister being' disgracefully deserted
by those who had paid assiduous court to him in the time
of his favour ; on the contrary, as the principles and the
heart had far less to do with the conduct than vanity, there
was a proportionate increase of splendour and ostentation
in the manner of performing generous actions, which some
times went even the length of arrogance ; not content with
visiting an exiled minister, he received a kind of adoration ;
he was deified, while the sovereign who had dismissed him
was openly neglected.
As has been already said, the moral code of this brilliant
society was supported on a very weak foundation, which was
already about to sink ; but there were still legislators and
judges — the laws were not yet abolished. The good society
of this period did not content itself with pronouncing frivo
lous decrees about fashion and manners ; but exercised a
severe judgment over morals, which formed a kind of sup
plement to the laws ; it repressed by its censures those vices

MADAME DE GENLIS. 325
which human tribunals do not punish — ingratitude and ava
rice ; and while the laws punished evil actions, the voice of
society condemned the inclinations that led to them. The
voice of general disapprobation took away from the person
who was the subject of it a part of his self-esteem ; andJiis
exclusion from society had the most fearful influence upon
his destiny. His very existence was embittered by the ter
rible sentence, " Every one has shut the door against him ;"
a phrase which was only applicable to persons belonging to
this kind of society. This kind of power was neither that
of kings, nor of parliaments, nor oLcourts of judicature ; it
was that of honour : it was sovereign till the revolution, and
the persons who wielded it, by universal consent, without
opposition, and without rebellion to its decrees, had so much
the more right to style their own society exclusively good
dompany, as they have never abused the power they held.
Though dealing largely iri that kind of scandal which leaves
the reputation stainless, they never agreed in believing any
accusation which was sure to dishonour the subject of it,
but upon its publication by the universal voice, and on mo
ral proofs the most satisfactory ; at the same time, by an ad
mirable process of equity, honour being more delicate than
the laws was for that very reason less! absolute than they :
its decress not being founded on undoubted proofs, were not
without appeal ; they excluded a person from the best com
pany, and drove him into a lower circle, but they did not
fix him there for ever. I have already said, (and it is not
useless to insist upon that axiom,) that the distinction has
never been established which exists between a person dis
honoured by public opinion, and one dishonoured by a no
torious and incontestable action, or by a judgment of the
laws. The two things have in fact been always confounded ;
and both persons are equally said to have been dishonoured
— which is neither just nor correct.
The word opinion signifies a belief without positive proofs :
if these proofs existed, it would no longer be an opinion.
but a formal and irrevocable judgment ; and it is only a

326 MEMOIRS OF
judgment of this kind which can lead to dishonour. Simple
opinion alone, however general and however well-founded
it may seem to be, excludes, as has been already said, when
ever it attacks his honour, the individual in question from
good society; but this sentence is not irrevocable, because
it has not the power to dishonour.- We have seen persons
thus degraded by opinion, belong to the worst circles for
ten, fifteen, or twenty years, and afterward by a change of
behaviour, or by fortunate circumstances, suddenly assume
another existence, and become once more persons of the
best company. A person dishonoured by a criminal pro
cedure, or who has fled from his post as a soldier, is for ever
dishonoured, because these things are not equivocal, and
any stain of positive dishonour can never be effaced. In the
accusations of the world there are no legitimate witnesses,
nor confrontations, nor absolute certainties ; and there are
always mingled in the scandal many calumnious inventions.
One woman, for a single notorious adventure, may be en
tirely ruined, if it cannot be denied ; while another, after a
thousand irregularities, may escape, and may recover the
good .opinion of society, because in her case there is only
hearsay and opinion. This is right, because the principle,
that dishonour, which means, that some indelible stain, can
not exist without irrefragable proofs, is at once equitable
and useful. If opinion alone had the power of dishonouring,
malignity would have no bounds, and calumny no check.
It is admirable to reflect, how, without any laws or regula
tions, these matters establish themselves naturally in society,
If opinion had no power, vice would walk abroad in hideous
effrontery, and the weak and the timid would be seduced
with far greater facility. Opinion, in short, in all well-
regulated society, has precisely the degree of influence ne
cessary, and its perfect balance is the best support of good
morals. At this time, which was on my first arrival at the Palais
Royal, I made many melancholy reflections on my new
mode of existence ; every thing seemed to aggravate them.

MADAME DE GENLIS. 327
and to augment the sadness which already afflicted me.
Nothing is so apt to render one discontented with new
scenes of life, and new friends?, as an unquiet conscience,
which reproaches its possessor with something evil ! . . . .
For the first time I was surrounded by malevolent glances ;
I was ill at my ease ; if I spoke it was with distrust and with
circumspection ; and I thus lost all that had hithferto ren
dered me agreeable, and for which I had been so highly com
mended — my frankness and my gayety. All the men re
ceived me admirably, and each endeavoured to excel the
other in his attentions ; but their gallantry was far from re
assuring, when I saw the enmity of my own sex ! It has al
ways been easy to intimidate me by a dryness and coldness
of manner; but impertinence has constantly produced upon
me an effect entirely contrary. I proved this in one in
stance, to the great surprise of all those who witnessed the
scene which I am now going to relate.
The days on which operas were performed, the palace was
open to all the persons who had been presented ; they were
allowed to come to supper without any invitation. , The
other days were called the private days ; there was a list of
the select society, which consisted of eighteen or twenty ;
those who were once invited, might come afterward when
they chose. Though we were eighteen or twenty in num
ber, there were generally but ten or twelve present. These
suppers were extremely agreeable : there was no play ; the
princess and the ladies sat at a round table, knitting, or work
ing at any trifling matter; the men sitting by their sides, or
standing behind them, kept up the conversation, which in
general was piquant and witty. One of these evenings I
happened to be placed between M. de Thiars and the Che
valier de Durfort; the Duchess of Chartres and several of
the ladies belonging to the palace, among others Madame de
Blot, and her friend Madame de Montboissier, were engaged
in knitting; the Duke of Chartres, and several other gentle
men, were walking about the saloon. I was making a purse.
The conversation turned upon the Nouvelle Hiloise of J. J.

328 MEMOIRS OF -
Rousseau. Madame de Blot fell into raptures about the
work, and in a short time her enthusiasm became so loud and
so emphatic, that the Duke of Chartres and the gentlemen
who were with him approached, and stood near the table in
a half circle ; the Duke of Chartres stood opposite Madame
de Blot, who was a little embarrassed by this movement ;
she was not at all fond of supporting sentimental theses be
fore him, for she knew he only listened attentively to her
arguments in order to turn them into ridicule ; nevertheless,
as she felt herself in train for being eloquent and declama
tory, she went on with the same warmth, and became at last
so aniriiated, that she concluded her harangue, by saying
that there existed not a woman of true sensibility, who did
not require an almost superhuman virtue to refrain from
consecrating her whole life to J. J. Rousseau, if she was
sure of being passionately loved by him in return. On hear
ing this strange declaration, the Duke of Chartres cried out,
that he entreated us all to give our word never to reveal
what Madame de Blot had just said, for that, if Rousseau
ever came to the knowledge of it, he would come and carry
off Madame de Blot, and that thus she would be lost for ever
to M. de Blot, to the Palais Royal, to her frierids, and to so
ciety. I had the politeness to restrain myself; and I did not
even smile. Madame de Blot recommenced with some bit
terness ; Madame de Montboissier and Messieurs de Thiars
and de Schomberg came to her assistance ; they said, that a
little exaggeration should be forgiven to so enthusiastic an
admirer; the Duke of Chartres, with great mildness, and
in the gravest manner agreed to this, and began again to
walk up and down the room. All was now apparently over ;
but Madame de Blot was piqued, vexed, and in very bad hu
mour. The Nouvelle Heldise was once more mentioned ;
when suddenly Madame de Blot remarked, tljat during the
whole discussion I had not opened my lips ; and she asked
me the reason, in a tone which was any thing but mild. I
replied simply, that I was not qualified to mingle in the con
versation, because (which was true) I had not read the

MADAME DE GENUS. 329
Nouvelle Heldise, nor even the Emile. Upon this she said,
in an ironical manner, that this was surprising ; and even
went the length of saying, that my denial was a singular
affectation^; this expression offended me, for it was as much
as to say, that she believed I did not speak the truth. " No,
madam," replied I, "I see too many ridiculous affectations,
to have any of my own. I have not read these two works,
because I know they are not fit for persons of my age ; when
Pshall have attained yours, madam, 1 shall read them, be
cause I understand they contain many excellent things, and
because I shall then be able to speak of them without any
offence to the rules of propriety." This little speech, which
was uttered without agitation, and without embarrassment,
by a person who had hitherto appeared so timid, produced
the utmost astonishment in the faces of all the company, and
in Madame de Blot a violent fit of anger. Being exceed
ingly affected in every thing, she affected also to be young ;
and I had irritated her on all points ; she was quite discon
certed, she reddened, stammered, and at last said, that she
did not know I was a saint, or that I carried prudery to such
an excess. I replied, that I felt myself exceedingly honoured
by the title of saint, though I should be sorry to be thought
a prude; but that, at all events, my prudery would never
lead me to^sustain such absurd theses as hers. These re
plies confounded Madame de Blot ; I felt my advantage, and
I preserved an imperturbable serenity. Madame de ( Blot-
became at last quite furious ; she was never before seen so
utterly to go beyond her ordinary disposition, which was not
merely reserved, but cold. At last, M. de Schomberg said
to me in a whisper : " You only want one more success —
and that is to yield, and put an end to the discussion." Upon
this I bent my eyes upon my work, and ceased to speak.
Madame de Blot continued to attack me ; M. de Schomberg
and others started another subject; the conversation
changed, and Madame de Blot looked sullen. I was modest
in my triumph — a thing which is always very easy ; this
42

33l) MEMOIRS OF
evening obtained me five or six admirers, but at the same
time I made myself an enemy, who never pardoned me that
little victory.
This scene made a great sensation at the Palais Royal,
and gave me the kind of consideration which always attends
those persons who know how to attack in the proper time *
and place, and with becoming moderation ; besides, as Ma
dame de Blot was not at all a favourite at the Palais Royal,
I easily acquired the reputation of having been in the
right. M. de Schomberg came to me two days after to talk with
me about this important affair, and to endeavour (at the
same time agreeing that I was not in the wrong) to excuse
Madame de Blot ; he maintained that she had naturally a
great liking to me, and that she desired my friendship; ,
which, with my usual credulity, I easily persuaded myself to
believe ; and I promised to re-assume towards her an ap
pearance of friendship, and a wish to please. I kept my
word ; but as the credulity and ingenuousness of my cha
racter have never prevented me from reading the faces of
my acquaintance, and discovering any appearances of false
hood, I saw distinctly in her features and manners something
forced and constrained ; however, I persuaded myself that
this proceeded only from her embarrassment ;»and as she
was always kind and affable in her behaviour to me, at least
in her speech, and her protestations, I did not doubt an in
stant of her sincerity.
. By a tacit and general Convention, all enmities were sus
pended in society : not only those persons who were known
to be notoriously hostile to each other, showed no mutual
tokens of resentment, but they treated each other with all
the outward tokens of regard and politeness : nevertheless,
these condescensions were never permitted to go the length
of testimonies of esteem, for nothing, at this period, excused
hypocrisy when it could be discovered. Never having till
then experienced the consequences of hate or malevolence,

MADAME DE GENLIS. 331
these shades of character were unknown to me; I erred
respecting them long, and my error frequently produced
the most unhappy calculations in my friendships.
From time to time 1 met the Viscount de Custines, and
I thought he had at length given up a passion which had
made so great a noise, and from the existence of which, I
believed I had withdrawn all hope ; I felt pleased, however,
with the strong and tender remembrance he preserved of
lus angelic sister-in-law, and felt much disposed to conceive
a real friendship for him. I have promised to relate in
continuation, the history of my acquaintance with him ; I
shall, therefore, begin it further back, and carry it on with
out interruption to the catastrophe ; and the following is
that singular narrative, which I desire may be perused by
all young females.
The Viscount de Custines was never married; he re
sided with his brother, who had the tenderest friendship for
him. At the beginning of my acquaintance with his sister-
in-law, he seemed to feel a great interest in me. He was
then twenty-seven or twenty-eight, and his figure and face
were peculiarly elegant; his face was esteemed handsome,
but it was never agreeable to me, because it expressed
habitually mockery and irony ; and there was in his glance
something furtive, false, and malignant, which I have never
seen in any other face, and which seemed to me so much the
more surprising, as he had a fair complexion and blue eyes;
which in general give a physiognomy an air of mildness.
He had talents and abilities ; he was occasionally lively, his
conversation was amusing, his manners were elegant, and
he possessed the reputation of a well behaved, well read,
and amiable young man. He had studied a*great deal, and
was admirably versed in the History of France, and in the
memoirs which relate to it. He conversed well on this sub
ject, and without pedantry. When I consulted my reason
and my judgment, he appeared to me worthy of the highest
esteem ; when I looked at him and observed him, he dis
pleased me exceedingly. He pretended to be very -fond of

332 MEMOIRS OF
music, which gave a colour to the transports which he ex
hibited when I played on the harp, or sung ; he seemed to
be especially enchanted with the fine air in Cartor and
Pollux, " Tristes apprets, pales flambeaux ;" and one even
ing his enthusiasm rose to such a height, that he suddenly
affected to become ill, and rushed out of the room. He
returned in a quarter of an hour afterward ; but so pale,
that every person in company was struck with the charige.
I have been alwaysv convinced that he possessed some
secret to make his colour change at will. This same even
ing he said a few words to me in secret, that seemed very
like a declaration of love; and two days after, (which
was Sunday, the day when M. de Genlis was always at Ver
sailles,) he wrote me a passionate letter, four pages long.
This letter breathed of love the purest and most disinter
ested;, he desired nothing, he said, but to be permitted to
adore me, to devote his life to me. The letter was well
written, but with too great an affectation in the phrases,
and the style was too much marked by emphasis. I made
no reply to it. I supped that evening with Madame de
Custines ; and felt, in going there, more curiosity than em
barrassment. My heart was not touched, but I could not
have conceived that a person so full of mockery could be
so impassioned. There were but five or six persons with
Madame de Custines. The conversation was general ; the
viscount maintained some sentimental theses of the most
extravagant kind, which, in his mouth sounded ridiculous.
At supper he seated himself by me, and ten minutes after
ward he told me that I had been that morning to Poite-
yin's baths. I asked him how he knew I had bathed ? " I
know all that you do," replied he, " because I follow you
every where under a thousand disguises ; how often your eyes
have beamed on me without your recognising my person !
Yesterday at noon, you were at the Luxembourg; you
wore a blue dress ; and this morning, on returning from the
bath, you went to mass at the church of the Carmelites.
I remained behind you for a quarter of an hour ; then I

MADAME DE GENLIS. 333
waited for you at the church-door, and you gave me alms
as you passed.". . . . This story was interrupted by some
one speaking to the viscount ; in the mean time I remain
ed in a state of stupefaction, trying to recollect all the poor
persons I had seen that morning. On leaving table, I beg
ged him to tell me how much I had given him ; "two sous,"
replied he, " which I shall have set in gold, and suspended
to a chain, to wear during my whole life next my heart."
I beganto laugh, and to ridicule these pretended disguises';
but as he really told me all 1 had done, and what I had dis
tributed to the poor in small pieces of money, 1 remained
very uncertain on the subject in my own mind.
I have always been fond of that kind of singularity which
had nothing disagreeable in it ; it is a fault in a woman, be
cause it may lead her to take many imprudent steps. The
history of all these disguises occasioned in me a great curiosi
ty; I can nevertheless say, with the most scrupulous, vera
city, that they nCver induced me to give the most trifling
hope to him who was the object of-it ; my curiosity orily
had the effect of preventing me from returning his letters
unopened. He wrote me volumes every Sunday, to recount
to me all I had done in the week ; and this with an exact
ness and minuteness, which at last left no doubt on my
mind, that he followed me throughout, and every where —
in my walks, in the streets, in the churches, and even into
my little garden— -and always so well disguised, that it was
impossible for me to recognise him. Even if I had been
attached to him, I could not have thought more of him than
I did ; for I was always occupied, when I went out, with
examining every one who came near me, in the expectation
of discovering him under some strange disguise. One even
ing at Madame de Custines', he came near me while I was
tuning my harp, and half opening his waistcoat, he showed
me my two sous, framed in a beautiful manner, and at
tached to a chain of brown hair. I smiled and inquired to
whom the hair belonged ? — " I could have employed none
but yours," was his reply.- — " What !" rejoined I, " mine ?"

3JJ4 MEMOIRS OF
— " Yes," said he, " certainly. I shall tell you how I ob
tained it at supper."
There was this evening a large party at supper, and it
was easy to converse at table without the risk of being
overheard; but as soon as I was seated, I renewed my
question relative to the chain of hair. " Well," said he,
" since you insist upon knowing, I cut the lock from your
head myself, in dressing your hair." At these words I
burst into a fit of laughter. " I am serious," added he,
" Madame Dufour, your hair-dresser,* sends you frequent
ly, in place of herself, one of her apprentices to dress your
head : so dressed as a woman, and with the art of disguising
myself, which I now possess in a supreme degree, (thanks
to your cruelty,) 1 came and dressed your ,hair about three
weeks ago, under the name of one of these girls whom I.
contrived to bribe." During this history I listened to all
his extravagant stories with an inexpressible astonishment,
for, I remembered that among the girls who used to dress
my hair, there was one extremely silent, who had several
times tempted me to smile by her continual sighing, and I
began really to imagine that the viscount might have per
formed this part, though the recollection I preserved of the
features of the young woman I allude to, in no degree re
sembled those of the viscount ; but I easily supposed him to
have all the art of disguising himself which he boasted he
had. I thought it quite possible that he might have obtain
ed, through Madame de Custines, all the details relative to
Madame Dufour, who dressed the hair of his sister-in-law
sometimes, as well as mine. But what left me the mos^t
in doubt was his talent for hair-dressing, which I could not
comprehend. He assured me that he had passed six weeks
in practising the art in private, after he had determined
upon stealing a lock of my hair. There was some truth in
* About this time there were women who dressed the hair of the ladies ;
it would have been reckoned indecent to have had their hair dressed by a
man. A year afterward, male hair-dressers came into fashion, and the
wnmen were no longer employed. — (Note by the Author.)

MADAME DE GENLIS. 336
his stories ; but there mingled in them an infinite number
of falsehoods and inventions ; nevertheless, in spite of my
taste for the singular, the unbounded audacity of these en
terprises caused me the greatest terror ; and I made him
give me his word of honour, that at least he would never
introduce himself into my house. Notwithstanding his
promise to that effect, I was in a state of continual alarm,
and all my curiosity was changed into terror. If, in passing
through the antichamber, I happened to see a strange face
among the servants, or met one on the staircase, I trembled
lest it should be the viscount ; if , I heard M. de Genlis
elevate his voice, or speak in an angry tone, 1 was ready to
faint, imagining that he had recognised my pursuer, and
that they were about to fight. These painful emotions be
gan to change my curiosity into aversion for the hero of this
strange romance, which had amused me greatly for three or
four months. I returned him the first letter he wrote me
without breaking the seal, as 1 ought to have done all after
the first. A few days after the return of his letter, I met
him at a large breakfast party, at the house of one of my
friends, with whom he was well acquainted : he found means
of telling me, with eyes of fury, that if in future I returned
his letters thus, he would not answer for what he might do ;
but if, on the contrary, 1 continued to receive and read them,
even though 1 should be cruel in other respects, he would
keep most scrupulously the word of honour he had pledged
me, and which he had given but upon that condition.
Fear decided me to submit to this agreement, though I
was secretly indignant that he should have the power of
thus governing me. I told him, not in jest, but with real
bitterness of spirit, that he had no generosity in his disposi
tion. He replied, that no man equalled him in greatness of
soul, and in purity of sentiment ; and that his whole con
duct towards me had given proof of it. I replied not; I be
gan to fear him, and I did not choose to irritate him useless
ly. He continued therefore to write to me ; but as there
was no longer in his letters the same official narrative of es-

336 MEMOIRS OF
pionnage which had diverted me so much, I thought them a
mere cento of tumid phrases from some bad novel, and did
not read the half of them. In the spring I got rid of him.
I went to pass six weeks at the Isle- Adam, where he was not
invited. I returned to Paris, where I met him again at his
sister-in-law's, still paying me as- much attention, and ap
pearing as impassioned as ever. Our Sunday and Tuesday
suppers recommenced. One evening, in general conversa
tion, we spoke of several young uien belonging to the court,
who had gone without permission to Corsica, to serve in
the army as simple volunteers. Every one'blamed them ;
and though I had no kind of connexion with any of them, I
defended their conduct in the most vehement manner; I
praised their behaviour with enthusiasm ; and added, that
it had sorhething chivalrous in it, which could not fail to
have its* effect in the eyes of all our sex. When we were
about to depart, the viscount gave me his arm to conduct.
me to my carriage '; and when we were on the head of the
staircase, "Madam," said he, "have you any commands
for Corsica ?" — " What !" replied I, laughing; " are you go
ing to Corsica ? — " Did not you approve pf the conduct of
those who have gone there ?" — " But you are in jest."
" No, madam, I never was more in earnest; I shall not go
to bed; I set off at five o'clock, that is to say, in four hours
hence." I could not persuade myself that he was capable
of such a piece of folly ; but the next morning on waking, I
received a note from Madame de Custines, who scolded me
for what I had said the evening before, which she said had
induced her brother-in-law to set out for Corsica at five
o'clock in the morning. I confess that my vanity was flat
tered by the adventure, which made a great noise in society ;
and several sentimental ladies blamed me for not having
testified on that occasion more sensibility for a lover worthy
of the days of ancient chivalry. This act of his convinced
me, that he had really done for me all the ridiculous things
which he had told me. One of my friends, who was very
young and pretty, spoke to me about him one day, and about

MADAME DE GENLIS. 337
his sentiments for me, with a warmth and vivacity that sur
prised me, and in the course of her eulogy, she added, that
he was the most delicate and the most virtuous man upon
earth. She saw that I thought she exaggerated greatly, and
cried out, " I cannot refrain from disclosing to you all his
worth, and I am now going to sacrifice all my self-love to
the pleasure of awakening you to the esteem and admiration
which such a character as his must inspire." She then
told me, that before his passion for me became public, she
had herself conceived for him a violent attachment, and that
in an unguarded moment, thinking herself beloved in return,
^he had confessed her affection for him ; that he then threw
himself at her^eet, and implored her pity and her friend
ship ; declared1 that his affections were no longer in his own
power, and that he had conceived the most violent and un
happy passion for me. She extolled for a quarter of an
hour the beauty and the frankness of this conduct ; and I
confessed that I thought it handsome, though 1 could not
help indulging the evil thought that the viscount, knowing
the warmth and candour of the young person's disposition,
was quite sure that she would confide the grand secret to
me, and that at the same time, she would take care to con
ceal it from Madame de Custines, whose austerity she
dreaded extremely.
The viscount remained a year in Corsica, and behaved
in the most distinguished manner. I met him again, as I
have already mentioned, at the masked-ball at Versailles.
I shall now take up once more the thread of his history.
From the time of my entrance at the Palais Royal, he spoke
no more of his former sentiments ; and in return, if I did
not treat him with confidence, I displayed an interest the
most sincere in his welfare. One evening I told him that
I was extremely uneasy about Madame de Merode, who,
in her last letter from Brussels, had mentioned that her
health was very precarious ; and as two posts had arrived
since the letter reached me, I was alarmed lest she should
43

338 MEMOIRS OF
have really fallen dangerously ill. The viscount listened
without answering, and left the room precipitately. The
second day after, at noon, he entered my cabinet unex
pectedly in boots, with a riding-whip in one hand and a note
in the other. "There, Madam," said he, "is a note from
Madame de Merode, which will inform you that she has in
reality been ill, but that she is quite well now ; I saw her
lying on her sofa." "What!" said I,, "have you been to
Brussels ?" — " Certainly ;" rejoined he, "you were uneasy.
On quitting you, I went and got a post-horse, and rode to
Brussels without stopping. I stayed no longer in Brussels
than to see Madame de Merode; and I have come back
with the same speed : but read the letter^, I was exces
sively touched ; I read the letter, which confirmed in every
point the exact truth of the viscount's story. Madame de
Merode expressed a great enthusiasm about my elegant
courier, and I was myself moved even to tears. He be
lieved at last that he had found the way to touch my heart ;
and a few days after, coming purposely at an hour when he
knew I should be alone, he threw himself at my feet, and
spoke again of his love with the most alarming impetuosity,
threatening to commit suicide if 1 did not return it. His
threats and his fury undid the effect of his previous conduct,
and filled me with an indignation which gave me all the
calmness I had need of. I was near the chimney-piece ; I
pulled the bell, and the viscount started up like a madman.
A valet de chambre entered ; to whom I said, with great
coolness, "Light M. de Custines down stairs." It was
night, but I knewi that the lamps of the corridors of the
Palais Royal were not yet lighted: he left the house with
demonstrations of fury, which had all the character of de
spair, and in spite of the courage which I had just exhibited,
it left behind an impression of fear and horror, which re
mained all the evening. The next morning on awaking, I
received a note from him which made me shudder; the
date was thus expressed at the top of the page :

MADAME DE GENLIS. 339
August 23d, the last day of my existence.
The note, which consisted but of four lines, breathed the
most fearful despair, and expressed a decided intention to
hasten his end. No words can describe the feelings of hor
ror with which I was seized, or the remorse I felt for hav
ing treated him with so much neglect.1 I thought I ought
to have shown, when he threatened to kill himself, at least
uneasiness and compassion. I remained for more than an
hour as if petrified,, and bitterly deploring the disastrous
event ; at last I wrote to the Count de Custines, to ask news
of his brother, who lived in his house. Instead of replying,
the count came immediately, and as soon as he entered my
room, I saw on his face the confirmation of the terrible
truth. He told me that his brother had left the house alone
at four in the morning without a servant, and without any
kind of preparation, merely leaving a note of two lines,
which he showed me, which only desired the family not to
expect his return, and saying, that no one should ever know
where he was gone. The Count de Custines, who had an
excellent heart, was plunged in the deepest affliction, and
continually repeated, " Such is the fate to which you have
driven him !" I myself was so shocked and afflicted that for
a whole week I was unable to go to the Palais Royal, I
received no visiters but the Count de Custines, who came
to see me daily. He made every exertion to discover what
had become of his brother, but without success. We agreed
to conceal this tragical history as long as possible, and mere
ly to say that the viscount was gone into Switzerland. At
length I recommenced my ordinary occupations, and went
as usual to walk in the Palais Royal every morning with my
two daughters, the eldest of whom was six years old. A
few days after, I observed an Armenian or Turk, (as I judg
ed by his dress, his long beard, and his turban) who follow
ed me constantly, fixing his eyes continually on my face.
I saw this personage for a fortnight together, after which he
appeared no more. In the beginning of October I went to

340 MEMOIRS OF
Chantilly ; from whence I did not return till the middle of
November. The Count de Custines was in Lorraine ; the
month following I received a note from him, couched nearly
in these terms :
" Let us no longer lament the despairing lover, he is
come to life again ; this evening I shall come and detail
to my dear comforter (this was the name he always gave me
after the death of his wife) all the details of so marvellous
an adventure."
Upon reading this note my first emotion was of joy —
and my second a sense of humbled self-love, for having be
lieved the story of the pretended suicide. The count
passed the whole evening with me, and gave me a long
narrative of the affair, of which the following are the prin
cipal events :
The viscount wandered into the forest of Senard, deter
mined, as he said, to finish at once his torments and his
existence, and fixed upon this desert spot to execute his fa
tal resolution, in order that no one might ever know where
he had ended his days. At the very moment when, in the
depths of the forest, he was about to sacrifice himself, a her
mit appeared, who arrested him in his project, and per
suaded him to come to his hermitage. There was in reality
in that forest a vast hermitage, where several assembled
hermits worked in common, at weaving in the loom silk
stockings and various fancy stuffs, which were much in
vogue, and sold well in Paris. The viscount, restored to
reason and religion, passed in reality three or four months
in that hermitage incognito, and his hosts believed that
in his person they had worked the most wonderful conver
sion imaginable. On the viscount's return, the count had
the curiosity to pay a visit to these hermits ; he talked to
them of his brother, whom these worthy persons regarded as
a saint ; they assured him that he had exactly followed
their pious practices, and that he had even laboured with
them at their work. They praised his mildness, his sim
plicity, and his candour. They told how generously he

MADAME DE GENLIS. 341
had behaved towards them— that besides the payirient of
his board, he had sent them an ample provision of silk for
their labours. I am convinced that he amused himself
greatly at the hermitage ; for he had so much duplicity in
his character, that he delighted in playing the hypocrite,
even when he had neither interest nor aim in doing so. To
return to his history. He quitted the hermitage for a short
time ; in a week after his arrival there, he concealed him
self elsewhere, in order to have an opportunity of walking
daily in the Palais Royal disguised as an Armenian. It was
in fact the viscount himself whom I .had seen. He wished
to know what impression the report of his death had made
upon me. He was much disappointed at seeing me neither
altered nor grown thin. He told his brother that my cru
elty, joined to his long residence at the hermitage, had cured
him ; that he could never see me again without emotion,
and that he would always take a lively interest in my wel
fare, but that he had renounced at last and for ever a pas
sion which had produced so much unhappiness.
After listening to this narrative, which was lengthened by
several details which I suppress, 1 obliged the count to ac
knowledge that we had both been completely dupes in la
menting him so much ; and that his pretended resolution of
destroying himself had been only a feint (and of the least
pardonable description) to try my real sentiments for him.
Some days afterward, the viscount came to sup at the Palais
Royal ; I was present; he affected an emotion, by which seve
ral ladies were strongly touched, who were acquainted with
his chivalrous love for me, his campaign in Corsica, and
had even heard something of the project of his pretended
suicide. This latter fact was related as certain, but with
many variations, every one more touching than another.
He appeared in every one's eyes a genuine hero of romance.
He carried this kind of interest to the highest pitch ; when
in playing at whist with me, he displayed a nervous trem
bling of the hands, and so much absence of mind, that he
mixed the cards, renounced, and threw the whole game into

342 MEMOIRS OF -
disorder. All this appeared so completely a piece of acting
in my opinion, that 1 was positively angry. A sentimental
lady, who was of our party, was exceedingly indignant at
the air of mockery with which I regarded the viscount's be
haviour; she said it was monstrous. 1 learned afterward
that she employed this expression in relating the scene.
Two days afterward at ten in the morning, I was told
that the Count de Custines begged me to do him the favour
of receiving him, as he had something of importance to tell
me. I was still in bed ; but I desired that the count might
be requested to step into my closet ; I then rose in haste and
went to him. I was struck with the change I saw in his
features. " Good God !" cried I, " what is the matter ?" —
" Ah !" replied he, " I am come to tell you an instance of
the blackest and most horrible perfidy." — " And of whom ?"
— " Of the greatest villain that ever existed — of the vis
count." — " Your own brother! .... and what has' he
done ?" — " He has deceived you ; he never loved you ; he
was playing the traitor to me, and endeavouring to seduce
my wife, all the while that he pretended to have the most
violent passion for you !" — " Is it possible ?" — " Listen to
the facts : Madame de Custines left behind her a little box
in which I knew she kept all the letters she wished to pre
serve ; I never could find the key of it ; and besides I had
no desire to open it, for 1 dreaded the impression that these
letters would make upon me, which were addressed to her
at a time when I was so happy! However, as you had
several times requested me to return your letters, I deter
mined this morning to send for a locksmith, who opened the
box ; I then took out all the letters, which consisted only of
yours, those of Madame de Louvois', and Madame d'Har-
ville's. In examining the box however more particularly,
I discovered by its thickness that it must have a concealed
drawer ; and feeling every where for the secret of opening
it, I at last touched the spring, which discovered a very
deep receptacle, filled with an infinite number of notes and
letters from my brother, all expressing in the most impas-

MADAME DE GENLIS. 343
sioned language a love which he declares to be the most
pure, but who at the same time employs all imaginable
means of seduction. It is plain from these letters that
Madame de Custines has never for a moment swerved from
her duty, nor given him a shadow of encouragement, and
that her answers have always been in the severest tone. It
is evident that she had constantly forbidden him to write,
and that generally she did not reply to his letters ; on these
occasions he threatens to go to the utmost extremities, to con
fess the whole to me, and to kill himself. He speaks to her
frequently of you : he tells her that he pretends to be your
admirer, in order the better to conceal his real sentiments ;
but," pursued the count, "I have, brought you some of the
letters in which you are mentioned ; here they are — read!
them." I seized the letters, which I read, I confess, with
as much vexation as anger. In the first which I opened, he
replied thus to the reproaches which Madame de Custines
threw out, relative to the arts whichhe was employing to at
tract me.
" At least," said he, " my pretended passion does not in
terrupt her tranquillity ; provided she is amused, cajoled,
and flattered, she desires nothing further ; her vanity, as far
as her talents are concerned, and even her levity alone, will
always supply with her the place of prudence, and prevent
her from ever feeling a profound passion."
In another letter, about his departure for Corsica, he wrote
in these precise words :
" I am glad that every body thinks that it is love for her
which sends me to Corsica ; but you who, possessing a soul
so great and so full of feeling, are only alarmed, not touched^
at my project, how can you apprehend for her the dangerous
impression to which you allude ? Trust for other results to
her vanity ; and be convinced, that supposing herself the
object of my devotion, she will consider my action as quite
natural, and a thing of course."
I read these two articles two or three times successively,
and wrote them out the same evening, on two small pieces

344 MEMOIRS OF
of paper, which I inserted in some letters, of the same date,
which I had received from this new Lovelace, infinitely more
artful and wicked than the hero of Richardson. What
must have been my despair and my misery, had I not been
preserved from his seductions by the instinct which has al
ways enabled me to detect falsehood ! . . . . What should I
have suffered had I loved him ! . . . We could not recover
, from our surprise, in thinking with what audacity and confi
dence he had written to his sister-in-law and to me at the
same time, letters equally impassioned ! But he knew us
both thoroughly ; he was sure that such a secret would never
be divulged by his sister-in-law, and that my timidity j my
habitual reserve, and the .imposing severity of Madame de
Custines, would never allow me to show her these letters,
nor even to allude to them. It was difficult for me to mode
rate the violence of the just resentment of the Count de
Custines ; but I reasoned with him so long, that he gave me
his word, (which he never violated) to burn all these letters,
and not to say a word about them to his brother, nor to any
one existing. I should never have succeeded in making him
adopt this generous resolution, had it not been for the sake
of the memory of Madame de Custines ; he knew the world
well enough to be convinced, that if the story once became
public it would be related in a thousand different ways, and
that, in spite of the perfect innocence of Madame de Cus
tines, the respect which every one had for her memory would
be violated by some unreflecting persons, who cannot bear
the notion of an approach to perfection.
The count, faithful to his promise, lived with the viscount
on the same terms as before, continuing to give him apart
ments in his house ; so that his brother never suspected that'
he possessed the knowledge of so terrible a secret. This
conduct cost a great effort to his virtuous brother for more
than six months ; but at last he altogether succeeded in for
getting the outrage of which he had pretended to be igno
rant ; and 1 have even witnessed, in the end, the renewal
of his sincere friendship for the perfidious brother who had

MADAME DE GENLIS. 3U>
so unworthily deceived him. If at the first discovery he
had publicly broken with him, and reproached him with his
crime, they must have remained irreconcilable for the rest
of their lives.
It is extraordinary that Madame de Custines, one of the
purest and most religious persons that ever existed, should
have received these criminal letters. As I have already
said, she must have been intimidated by the fearful menaces
of the viscount ; but she ought doubtless to have had enough
of decision and firmness to defy his resentment ; nothing
ought to excuse us from fulfilling a positive duty. Another
inexplicable circumstance is, that Madame de Custines
should not have burnt these letters before her death. But
I have related the facts with the most scrupulous exact
ness. From that time, I never saw the Viscount de Custines at
my house ; I only met him at the Palais Royal, at the Prince
of Conti's, or the Palais Bourbon, to which he afterward be
longed, in quality of captain of the guards to the prince of
Conde. Three or four years after our quarrel I had the
measles, which reduced me almost to the last extremity. At
this time the viscount was to have gone to pass a fortnight
at London with M. de Buzan9ai. Upon learning the state
in which I was, he exhibited the greatest signs of grief, broke
off his intended journey in the most public manner allowed
M. de Buzancai to go alone, saying, that he could not quit
Paris while he knew I was dying ; he accordingly remained,
and during the whole time that I was in danger, he passed
daily whole hours in my antichamber, softening the heats
of my domestics by his demonstrations of grief and dis
quietude. It was thus that he preserved his reputation of
a genuine hero of romance ; and what is more, faithful to his
imaginary passion, even to his death, he never discovered
any other attachment ; he constantly repeated, that after a
passion so singular and so unfortunate, there was no place in
his heart for a new love, and that he never would marry. It
is impossible to conceive how much I was blamed for not
44

346 MEMOIRS OF
being touched with this romantic passion ; it was thought,
that without partaking it, 1 should at least have shown a pro
found sentiment of esteem for the man who could love thus.
But when I was spoken to on the subject in a pathetic vein,
I could not help laughing, and shrugging my shoulders. It
has been often repeated, that all this was in bad taste, from
which a good heart would have preserved me. This adven
ture, so singular and so true, is an admirable lesson for young
females, who are in general so well disposed to believe that
they have the power of inspiring sentiments which affect
the destiny of their lives.
I shall now pursue the continuation of my history.
After passing six months at the Palais Royal, I had expe
rienced so many marks of calumny and malignity, that I re
solved to withdraw myself from it for some time. The
Duchess of Chartres had, of her own accord, conceived a
strong friendship for me ; she sent for me continually, when
alone, in her own apartments — a distinction which, with my
habitual reserve, I should never have thought of soliciting,
and which she never accorded to any other lady. My con
versation and my vivacity pleased her, and I became attach
ed to her from her goodness, candour, and sensibility. She
was told many malignant things about me, but she always
refused to believe them ; she saw such a spirit of animosity
against me, that she easily recognised the ill-disguised and
passionate language of envy. She told me all these stories,
and found me not only moderate, but I venture to say gene
rous, towards my detractors, and I never recriminated. I
never said any thing to her against the women whom she de
nounced to me as my mortal enemies ; and even after that
time, I never let slip an opportunity of doing a service with
the duchess to these very persons.
This behaviour was duly appreciated by the Duchess of
Chartres, who became attached to me with a kind of passion
which lasted in all its strength more than fifteen years ; and
I can say, with perfect truth, that my heart responded to it
with all the energy and devotion of which I am capable where

MADAME DE GEKLIS. 347
I love. This was the first motive of the ardent jealousy of
which I was the object for nine years at the Palais Royal.
¦ Wearied out with malignity and calumny, I determined
on taking a little journey, in hopes that my absence in the
commencement of my favouritism, would prove that, I had
no envy of commanding. I had long promised Madame de
Merode to go to see her at Brussels. I requested M. de
Genlis to take me thither ; I demanded leave of absence,
and we set Out in the middle of the winter. I felt once
more at my ease in seeing a charming friend, who thought
of nothing but how to make my stay at Brussels agreeable.
Prince Charles, the emperor's brother, was then viceroy of
the Low Countries. This prince was amiable in his man
ners, and a lover of talent and the arts ; he received me
most graciously. Madame de Merode's house was large.
We lived with her; and at her house we saw the best
society of the town — among others, the Prince and Princess
of Staremberg. The latter, though little, ugly, and hump
backed, was pleasing from a countenance full of talent and
expression. I have never met with any one who had a more
amusing manner of narrating, a more agreeable conversa
tion, or a wit more piquant. She has inspired many pro
found passions, which have been equally constant and un
happy. The Prince of Chimay, young and handsome, was
desperately in love with her, and had remained two years
at Brussels in consequence of that attachment. The wit
tiest man, and the most in fashion, at Prince Charles's
court, was the Prince de Ligne, who had passed a great
part of his life at Paris, and whom I already knew. He had
a noble face, and noble manners ; he was good-natured and
gay; he affected singularity, yet he was very ingenuous;
his disposition was honourable, and particularly gracious.
The Duchess of Ursel, daughter of the beautiful and virtu
ous Duchess of Aremberg, was then in the flower of her
youth ; a brilliant freshness of complexion, and an agreea
ble expression of face, supplied in her the place of beauty ;
she was charming for her gayety, her good-nature, and an

348 MEMOIRS OF
equality of temper which was never ruffled. Madame
d'Ursel, by means of blackening her fair hair, turning up
the point of her nose with a hair, and hiding her fine teeth
with an orange-skin cut for the purpose, passed herself off
upon me for a Dutch lady, recently arrived from the Hague.
I was taken to Antwerp to see the pictures, and several
Curious manufactories. We passed three months in this
manner, which to me glided away in a delightful manner.
I had my leave of absence prolonged for more than six
weeks. At length I returned to the Palais Royal, there to
encounter the same enmities. A few days after my arrival
we went to the Isle-Adam, to the Prince of Conti's.* I
was particularly fond of this prince's house, because you
there enjoyed the most perfect liberty. The prince never
appeared in the saloon until the evening, two hours before
supper. When he did not go to the chase, he passed the
day in the apartments of Madame de Boufflers. The ladies
were all at liberty to dine in their rooms, and to remain
there till supper-time. The Prince of Conti, then fifty
years old, had a handsome and majestic face ; he had dis
played great valour and talent as a soldier. Being the ar
dent protector of all who belonged to him, he had sincere
friends ; and he was the only prince of the blood who spoke
well in parliament, or who had ease and grace in his audien
ces. He loved the arts, sciences, and literature ; and he has
been called the last of the princes, as Brutus was styled the
last of the Romans. The stag-hunts were peculiarly agreea
ble at the Isle- Adam ; at each halt there was an entertain
ment, and, during our little journeys, we acted plays once
a week.
. The Countess of Boufflers, the intimate friend of the
Prince of Conti, passed for being the most witty person in
* I have already drawn his portrait, but I have omitted in it a. trait
peculiarly characteristic, and which is extremely advantageous to princes
and people in power. He exacted, from all-*vho were about him, a rigor
ous respect to his rank ; but this did not prevent him from showing con
stantly the most amiable affability. — (Note by the Author.)

MADAME DE GENLIS. 349
our society ; she had written several dramas and comedies,
which have never been printed. She has been accused of
maintaining in conversation singular opinions and para
doxes ; I. have never found any thing of the kind in her
talk ; I have always thought her as remarkable for her un
derstanding as her wit, but she was never common-place ;
and this is, doubtless, what some people call singularity. I
esteemed her highly ; she, Madame de Beauvau, Madame de
Puisieux, and the Marechale de Luxembourg, have always
appeared to me to be perfect models of amiability, polite
ness, and grace.
I did not lose any time at the Isle-Adam. There was a
fine library there ; and I read, for tiie first time, I believe,
Rabelais, of whose works I thought three-fourths extrava
gant, absurd, and disgusting; whatever else in him may
seem to be wit, is not sufficient to establish the reputation
of a work ; I also read over and over a great number of
memoirs, relative to the history of France, and made many
extracts. An amiable old man, M. de Pont de Vesle^ ne
phew of the famous Madame de Tencin,* improved me
much by his conversation ; he was greatly attached to me,
and took much pleasure in replying to all my questions,
and in acquainting me with many literary anecdotes.
On my return to Paris, I renewed my studies with more
ardour than ever. I added to my other occupations, that
of painting flowers in miniature. Madame de Puisieux
had begged me to give her a little snuff-box, very light and
very common, which might lie always on her work. I
painted for the lid of a box, a cypher in flowers, surrounded
with a wreath, which I had put upon a box of fig-tree wood.
This little trifle was thought so pretty, that all my friends
* Greater political events have thrown somewhat into the shade this
extraordinary woman, who, after taking the vows, got them disannulled
and entered into a convent of canonesses ; and having thus obtained the
right of frequently quitting the chapter, she passed the greater part of her
life at Paris, where her house became the rendezvous of the most talented
society of the capital. — (Note by the Editor.)

350 MEMOIRS OF
begged me for boxes, and I accordingly made more than a
dozen successively. There was no want of books: at the
Palais Royal. It is singular, that the Duke of Orleans, who
possessed such magnificent collections of gems and pictures,
should have had no library ; but the Chevalier de Durfort
had a well selected library, from which he lent me all the
hooks I wanted. One of the things which attached me the
most to my readings, was the regularity with which I, made
extracts, and the great pleasure I felt in constantly adding
to the number. I was, by this time, far advanced in my
knowledge of French literature and history. 1 had con
ceived a taste for natural history in my visits to Chantilly.
The fine cabinet of the Prince of Conde, and the friend
ship of the excellent and learned M. de Bomare,* who had
the care of it, gave me the desire of forming a little cabinet
of my own. I knew very little of geography, and begged
M. de Bomare to find me a mistress of it. He sent me
Mademoiselle Thouin, sister of the head gardener of the
royal garden, then one of the first botanists in Europe, and
since received, (before the revolution,) a member of the
Academy of Sciences. Mademoiselle Thouin was a young
person who had read much and was very amiable. We
became much attached to each other, and our attachment
lasted till I went to Belle Chasse, and was only broken off
by an unjust feeling on the part of Mademoiselle Thouin,
which I shall mention afterward. I persuaded the Du
chess of Chartres to learn geography, and thus procured.for
Mademoiselle Thouin an illustrious scholar, who remained
under her three years. The Duchess of Chartreshad been
educated at a convent by the old and virtuous Marchioriess
of SOurcy, who had given her' what is more valuable than
graces or talents — she had instilled into her noble heart the
best principles and the highest sense of religion. In other
respects, as Madame de Sourcy was ill-informed herself,
* A celebrated naturalist, and author of a dictionary of natural history.
— (Note by the Editor.)

MADAME DE GENLIS. 351
she was not qualified to instruct her pupil, who was even
ignorant of spelling. I undertook to teach her orthogra
phy; arid gave her lessons for more than eighteen months ;
I also taught her history and mythology. A painter who
had taken the portraits of my daughters, 'spoke to me of a
young Pole, called M. Meris, who was in the greatest mi
sery, and who had a great talent (which afterward became
celebrated) for painting small subjects in water colours
mixed with gum. I bethought myself of having painted
by this artist, for the instruction of the Duchess of Char
tres, a series of small historical pictures, representing the
most striking events of Grecian and Roman history, which
I selected from my Extracts. He furnished four of these
per month, for which the Duchess of Chartres only paid
eighteen francs- a piece, which was really getting them for
nothing. She caused them to be framed as they came, and
on the back of each I wrote, in a very small hand, the ex
planation of the picture at length. She got thus one hun
dred and fifteen, which she hung in a cabinet ; they were
admired by all those who saw ; I had them arranged in
chronological order. She afterward gave me those little
pictures for the instruction of Mademoiselle d'Orleans.
Madame de Valence, during the emigration saved them
from confiscation, and I allowed her to keep them for the
education of her daughters. She divided them ; Madame
de Celles has the greater part of this precious collection.
Besides all these occupations, I served also as secretary
to the Duchess of Chartres>; I wrote out all her notes and
letters, which she afterward copied in her own hand.
Nothing occurred more remarkable than the ordinary
events of the day, which she did not communicate to me ;
she would. send for me to ask my advice, or to confide to
me any thing that interested her. It has often happened
that she has sent Mademoiselle Lefevre, one of her attend
ants, at two or three in the morning, when I had not seen
her during the day, to entreat me to write a note or a let
ter for her, which she had to send early in the morning.

352 MEMOIRS OF
As I went to bed late, I was in general awake ; but several
times she has had to awake me. On these occasions the
Duchess of Chartres would write to me at great length about
whatever she required of me ; sometimes it was only to
communicate to me something that gave her uneasiness ;
and in these cases, unless it was very late, I used to go
down stairs to her. All this did not hinder me from keep
ing my fingers employed ; from making pretty embroidery
of all kinds, and from cultivating music with the same ar
dour as before. To these I joined my new study of natural
history, the formation of a cabinet of shells, of madrepores,*
of minerals and stones, which became by degrees a fine col
lection, and which was afterward confiscated, and well
sold for the benefit of the nation, along with all I possessed
at Belle Chasse. I continued to write comedies ; I had
composed at Madame de Puisieux's one called False Deli
cacy, which I had never shown to any one, not even to M.
de Sauvigny; he was so prejudiced in my favour that
though he had an excellent critical taste, I mistrusted his
praises. Wishing, however, to know if I possessed any
talent I took a singular method of ascertaining the point.
I was a subscriber to the Annee Litteraire of Freron ; I dis
covered in that work a great deal of talent and sound judg
ment, and I determined on consulting Freron, whom I did not
at all know personally. I wrote an anonymous letter to
him, signed " A Young Author." I begged him to read the
comedy I sent him ; to give me his opinion freely on the
subject, and to advise me relative to my pursuance of that
branch of writing. I requested him to send his answer with
my piece to his bookseller's to whom I should apply for an
answer in a fortnight. I sent the packet to the bookseller's,
and in a fortnight it was returned to the messenger who
called for it. Freron's reply was very full and polite ; he
said, that there was a good deal of the tone of Marivaux in
my piece ; that it was evident I had read that author often,
and that I esteemed him much ; he advised me to leave off
* A kind' of petrified sea-plant. (Translator.)

MADAME DE GENLIS. 3$o
imitation, and to write in my own manner ; and added that
I had good ideas, a clever talent, and above all an excellent
judgment, and the faculty of forming a good plot.
This criticism proved very useful to me ; it encouraged
me greatly, and made me renounce the style of Marivaux
for ever. I had never any other correspondence with
Freron. When summer came, we went to Chantilly, where the
Prince of Conde paid me the most particular attention.
He always sat next me at table, and asked me what I wish
ed to be done the next day ; if I wished that we should sup
at the Island of Sylvia, or the Island of Love, or at the
Rendezvous of the Stag-hunt, &c. &c. All this gallantry
had nothing in it peculiarly flattering ; it was an essay which
the prince always tried with all the women who had any
thing agreeable about them ; it was said that he did this to
forward a system of ambition. He used to say, that a pretty
woman is always of use in an intrigue, and that there is only
one way of making sure of her. As that way did not suit
me, as soon as I discovered the prince's design, I let him
understand, that he had no hope of succeeding with me.
From this time he became my enemy, and has remained so.
The Prince of Conde was then thirty-five or thirty-six years
old ; he was blind of one eye,* but the eye which was blind
had nothing defective in its appearance.! His face was
better than bad ; but it had something false in its expression,
which was perfectly, characteristic of his disposition, than
which nothing could be more deceitful. He had displayed
in the field a valour worthy of the grandson of the great
Conde, and this gave him great weight in the army. All
the soldiers respected him ; he has always acted the noble
part of their protector, and solicited favours and regiments,
* The duke, father of the Prince of Conde, was rendered blind of an
eye, in consequence of an accident in huntmg ; and all his children, legiti
mate and natural, were born blind of the same eye. This is a fact difficult
to account for. — (Note by the Author.)
t The eye became disfigured as he grew old. — (Note by the Author.)
45

354 MEMOIRS OF
even for those he did not know, when they addressed their
requests to him, and when he saw that their claims were
well founded. This prince was not destitute of talent ; he
wrote well, and his conversation, when he was at his ease
with you, was agreeable : nevertheless, he was awkward in
general society, and spoke badly in public ; he was ambi
tious ; but it was rather the ambition of a courtier than a
prince ; and he employed small arts and intrigues for his
purposes, which he ought to have disdained. He was ex
ceedingly vindictive, and had a sort of pleasure in hating ;
he is the only man I have ever seen wear a constant smile
when you spoke to him of a person whom he hated, or when
he saw that person ; this smile was quite hideous ; no words
can give an idea of it.
The Duke of Bourbon had a fine shape, and the fineness
of his complexion stood him instead of beauty; he has al
ways shown himself full of kindness towards me.
The Duchess of Bourbon was of this party ; she had infi
nite grace, wit, and accomplishments ; she had a fine dispo
sition, but a singularity in her ideas which her instructress
had never rectified, and which deprived her of the faculty
of seeing and judging things correctly. Having been greatly
prejudiced against me by Madame de Barbantane, she treat
ed me with extreme coldness ; I never endeavoured to re
move her prejudices, which lasted up to the revolution ;
since that time, her kindness to me has amply made up for
her previous injustice.
The following winter, I met with a great interruption in
my private studies ; Gluck came to Paris to have his operas
performed. The boxes of the Palais Royal opened into
the apartments of the palace ; on leaving table, I had only
to open a door of the dining-room to pass into the boxes.
This convenience, my fondness for music, and the extreme
pleasure 1 had in seeing Gluck,* at the rehearsals, get into
* Without voice or execution, Gluck is quite ravishing when he sings
his fine airs to the piano. Genius has no need of art, at least, it can do
without it. When we are profoundly touched, what do we want more ?—
(Note by the Author.)

MADAME DE GENLIS. 355
a fury with the actors and musicians, giving them, at the
same time, the most judicious instructions, induced me to
pass all my afternoons in one of the boxes ; afterward, I
went to see the piece performed, so that a great part of my
time was passed at the opera. Gluck came twice a week
with Monsigny, M. de Monville, and Jarnovitz, the famous
violin player, to perform music at my apartments ; he made
me sing all his fine airs, and play his overtures on the harp,
especially that to Iphigenia, of which I was excessively fond.
It may be easily supposed that I declared myself a Gluck-
ist, and that I ridiculed all the disputes about Gluck and
Piccini, by men of letters who did not know a single note
of music ; this raised up my first literary enemies, for I was
a kind of musical authority in society, and the literary par-
tizans of Gluck never pardoned me, being of their party,
for ridiculing them ; but they defended Gluck so absurdly,
that I spared them no more than the rest. Towards March
in this winter, however, I felt that music, Gluck, and the
opera, acquired much too great an ascendant over me. As
it has always appeared to me much easier to renounce an
object altogether, than to moderate the pursuit of it, I made
a resolution to go no more to the opera or the theatres, but
when I should be obliged, from my situation, to go there
witfi the Duchess of Chartres — a thing which happened
rarely, as my companions desired nothing better than to
replace me on these occasions. This was a great sacrifice
to me, but I kept my vow most faithfully. I sincerely wish
now, that religion had been my motive in this resolution ;
but it was only the taste for study, and the pride of being
distinguished, that led me to make this determination.
I saw this year the Count Benyowski, so famous for his
exile to Siberia and the manner in which he made his es
cape, by putting forty of his comrades in his confidence,
persuading each privately that he was his only confidant ;
the secret was thus perfectly well kept, as each fancied him
self the only depository of it. He related to me all his
adventures, which furnished me with the subject of a drama ,

356 MEMOIRS OF
which met with great success in Germany, and which I have
since seen^played at Hamburg. I had an opportunity the
autumn following to render a great service to the Chevalier
de Durfort, in the following manner. He was a knight of
Malta, and was allowed to hold benefices ; an ecclesiastic
of my acquaintance came to inform me, that there was one
vacant of fifteen thousand francs a-year, in the gift, I know
not how, of the Count d'Artois, and that, if it was solicited
immediately the chevalier would have it. The count was
then at Fontainebleau, and I instantly sent off a courier to
the Duke of Chartres, to acquaint him with the fact. The
duke, without losing a moment, made the demand, obtained
the favour, and announced his success to the chevalier, who
was then at Fontainebleau, showing him at the same time
my note. The Chevalier de Durfort, who was not rich,
was overwhelmed with joy at receiving a gift so unexpected,
and which had not even cost him a single solicitation ; he
wrote me a letter full of gratitude, in which he styled me
his benefactress. He was, in fact, extremely grateful for
seven or eight years, but afterward he became my enemy ;
it will be seen that I gave no reason for such a change.
The Countess of Nolstein made her entrance to the Palais
Royal about this time ; she was fifteen, and had a pretty
face, but ugly feet, and hands that were quite frightful, from
their size, their shape, and their redness ; she was the daugh
ter of Madame de Barbantane, and had been brought up at
a convent with the Duchess of Bourbon, who, on leaving
Panthemont, decidedly refused to accept her as her maid of
honour. It was generally said and believed that the Duchess
of Bourbon refused her through envy of her handsome face,
— a thing notoriously impossible, as she took in her place a
lady much prettier than Madame du Nolstein ; but she was,
nevertheless, excessively blamed for ingratitude in refusing
to accept the daughter of her governess. The Duchess of
Bourbon could not but know how much she was talked of;
but she had enough of self-command never to relate the real
cause of her refusal to any person whatever ; nor did she

MADAME DE GENLIS. 357
ever tell it till fourteen or fifteen years afterward, when Ma
dame du Nolstein was shut up in a convent at Nancy. The
Duchess of Bourbon had a witness of the fact she related,
in the Princess Louisa of Conde, her sister-in-law, who
kept the same strict silence. Madame du Nolstein, on
entering the Palais Royal became my most ardent enemy ;
she has done me much harm ; I have seen strange things in
her conduct, of which I shall say nothing ; the most notori
ous of her adventures are but too well known to the public,
but the sincerity of her repentance imposes on me an obli
gation not to retrace them.
Her conduct in the convent to which she retired, during a
considerable number of years, was so edifying and so per
fect, that there could be no doubt of her conversion. Her
food, during all this time, was precisely that ordained by the
rule of the most austere orders ; she sold, for the benefit of
the poor, several jewels which she still had, and the whole
of her wardrobe ; she bought for herself the coarsest linen,
and the roughest garments, and wore no other kind of dress
till her death. M. du Nolstein, one of the most honourable
and virtuous of men, allowed her a pension of six thousand
francs, and paid, besides, her board and lodging ; Madame du
Nolstein out of this reserved, at most, three hundred francs
for her nourishment, and distributed the rest among the poor,
with the exception of the purchase of the necessary mate
rials for making with her own hands, various works, which
she gave to the church ; at these she was very clever, and
she consecrated her talent in this way entirely to religion.
When the nuns, at the revolution, were driven from their
abodes, M. du Nolstein, after the reign of terror, took his
way to an estate which he possessed at a great distance from
Paris. Madame du Nolstein entreated him to allow her to
continue to live there as she did in her convent ; she died
there in eighteen months, preserving her senses to the last
moment of her existence ; she had herself placed on ashes
when she felt herself dying, and it was thus, that, after
having expiated all her past errors, she heaved her last sigh I

358 MEMOIRS OF
.... 1 forgot to mention, that when she was driven from
her convent with the rest, she withdrew herself to a fifth
floor, where she lived with some poor persons, whose misery
she had formerly alleviated ; she remained there till after
the death of Robespierre.
I frequently saw M. de Fleurieu,* who was afterward in
the ministry ; he made me recommence the Italian, which
he perfectly understood, and in which, in spite of his nume
rous occupations, he had the goodness to give me lessons
regularly twice a week during six months. I never knew
any person of so obliging a disposition ; he was exceedingly
ingenious, and could make watches like a watchmaker: he
undertook the cleaning and regulation of all those of his
friends ; he understood turning, and could do besides many
pretty things. One day in calling on me, he found me en
gaged in trimming with flowers a gown, which I was to wear
the next day, along with my maid, and a milliner's appren
tice. As I was quite undecided on the arrangement of my
trimming, M. de Fleurieu gave his opinion, which was fol
lowed. He then set to work, cutting and sewing as well as
the best work-woman, and all this with a seriousness and sim
plicity which made me ready to die with laughing v he re
primanded me for my levity, saying that it occasioned loss of
time. I had fastened the door, and we worked with great
energy from seven in the evening till one in the morning, only
interrupted by a slight supper which did not last a quarter
of an hour. The gown was finished, and met with the
greatest admiration the next day ; every body thought it
charming. There was something very remarkable in M. de
Fleurieu's history ; he was successively in love with three
women of three different generations; first, in his early
youth, of a woman much older than himself; next of her
daughter, who was married to M. de Mondorge, (uncle of
M. de Fleurieu.) This passion was a most unhappy one.
Madame de Mondorge, on becoming a widow, married the
* The Count de Fleurieu was Minister of the Navy under Louis XVI>

MADAME DE GENLIS. 359
Marquis of Arcamballe ; she had a daughter whom M. de
Fleurieu saw born. As soon as she had attained a mar
riageable age, M. de Fleurieu fell in love with; and married
her. This is a constancy of filiation of which I know no
other example.
I had also taken an English master ; and as I had a very
strong memory, I read the poets easily in five months. I
never lost a moment ; when I went to Versailles, I generally
managed to go alone, in order that I might be able to read
in the coach. I wrote out all riiy extracts in small white
paper books ; and I always carried one about me, that I
might read something in moments that would otherwise have
been lost. I have never let slip an opportunity of leading
into conversation any persons I have met who could teach
me any thing ; foreigners on their country, travellers on
their journeys, artists on their arts, &c. &c. In this way,
I have contrived to get something out of many persons in
other respects extremely insipid ; and I wrote down the
same day all that I had collected in these conversations that
was interesting or new to me. I had heard it said, that M.
d'Auguesseau had written in a few years, four volumes
quarto, in employing the twelve or fifteen minutes a day
which Madame d'Auguesseau occupied in arranging her dress
before coming down to dinner. I profited by this example ;
the hour of dinner at the Palais Royal was fixed for two,
but the Duchess of Chartres was never ready for a quarter
of an hour later, and when 1 came down at the appointed
hour, I was always obliged to wait fifteen or twenty minutes.
I desired a domestic to come and tell me when she left her
room. I was always quite ready at two precisely ; and up
to the time when I was summoned, I spent the time in
writing in a distinct and very small hand, a selection of poe
try from various authors which formed, when I left the Palais
Royal, a collection of one thousand verses, very curious, as
it begins with the poetry the oldest and most Gothic which
we possess. This collection which has not been lost, is
now in the hands of the Countess of Choiseul (formerly

360 MEMOIRS OF
Princess of Bauffremont.) I had in the course of three
years completely drained the library of M. de Durfort. I
formed an acquaintance with the Abbe des Aulnais, chief
librarian of the Royal Library ; he showed me the most
obliging kindness for six years, pointing out and lending me
all the books which could give me any instruction, and even
manuscripts. I found in his friendship and conversation a
source of information which has been of the greatest use to
me. I often went to pay him visits at the library, in which
he showed me the most curious books. He introduced me
to a learned person, M. d'Aimeri, who lived near the Palais
Royal, and who possessed a superb collection of antique
medals, besides a fine collection of miniatures on enamel
by Petitot, which after his death was bought by the king.
I went also about once a fortnight to the Garden of Plants,
to see my friend Mademoiselle Thouin, who took me into
the Cabinet of Natural History, and into the hot-houses,
where all the wonders of nature were explained to me.
One day while 1 was with her and Monsieur Thouin, her
brother, in the green-houses, I saw a young man approach
about fourteen or fifteen years old, who had a very handsome
face. He came up to me and said that his father was par
ticularly desirous to see me, in order to show me two or
three singular little animals which were not in the mena
gerie ; and this father of his was M. de Buffon. I was de-
' lighted with this mark of attention from a man whose works
I admired so highly ; and I owed it to the favourable report
which Mademoiselle Thouin had given of me. Young Buf
fon gave me his arm, and presented me to his father, who
received me with a cordiality and a graceful simplicity of
manner which entirely gained my heart. From this time
he came to see me at the Palais Royal at least once a month ;
I went to dine with him once every ten or twelve days ; I
always went early enough to find him alone. We spoke of
nothing but literature ; and I questioned him continually on
his style and manner of writing. One extraordinary cir
cumstance is, that M. de Buffon, whose style is so harmo-

MADAME DE GENLIS. 301
nious, was. neither fond of poetry, nor a good judge of it.
Fenelon, a less perfect writer, but whose style is so melo
dious, was an instance of the same singularity. M. de Buf
fon fold me, that he did not begin to write' as an author, nor
to be remarked till he was forty-four or forty-five years of
age ; and his admirable talent sustained itself equally up to
the close of his long career. At his house I saw many
learned men and authors, among others the unfortunate
Bailli, and Herault de Sechelles,* and M. de Lacepede, so
eminent for his knowledge, his talents, and his disposition ;
in my own apartments, I saw no literary people, except M.
de Sauvigny and Dorat, who was then dying of consumption.
He came sometimes to see me, as ,1 had known him at
Soissons, from meeting him at M. Lepelletier-de-Morfon-
taine's, where, at the fetes the latter gave me, he had writ
ten some very pretty verses about me, — a thing of which a
woman always preserves the remembrance. It is riot, how
ever, this feeling, but a sense of justice which makes me
assert, that his talents have been too severely criticised ; he
was doubtless sometimes guilty of affectation, and his style
was not formed in a good school, but he was often graceful
and delicate, and he had always a great deal of wit. Be
sides his, poetry and his comedies, he has written a novel in
letters, which has no reputation, and is altogether forgotten,
but which is certainly not without merit. Some have been
highly extolled in our days which are far inferior to this
production. If Dorat were now living, he would belong to
the academy, and would have a great number of admirers.
At the same time Rousseau, who took advantage of the
permission I had procured him, divided his days between
the Garden of Plants and Monceaux. He procured a great
many advances to be made to me through Mademoiselle
Thouin, who assured me that he expressed a passionate de
sire to see me again ; but though in my heart 1 loved him
still, I was inflexible in my refusal.
* They died on the scaffold during the Revolution. (Editor.)
46

362 MEMOIRS OF
My various occupations consoled me for the malignity I
experienced at the Palais Royal ; yet notwithstanding the
hatred which many bore to me, I was continually besieged
with solicitations to beg of the prince and princess the fa
vours which they desired* I confess that nothing in my life
ever flattered me more than this unbounded confidence in the
generosity of my disposition, and I never for a moment have
ceased to prove that 1 deserved it. Such conduct is sub
lime when inspired by religion ; when, by vanity, it is still
noble ; but it would be absurd were it the fruit of a plan
for mitigating envy; an envious person can never be
softened — even the favours he obtains through the object of
his hatred can only irritate and humble him the more. It
is true that these solicitations always began with little
apologies, and long praises of my mildness and my habitual
goodness. I was in no respect the dupe of this hypocrisy,
but my self-love was highly flattered v by such a sort of
homage ; I felt also a malignant satisfaction at seeing per
sons so haughty, who talked of nothing but elevation of soul,
and nobleness of sentiment, humbling themselves thus tete-a-
tete before me. I revenged myself in my own way, by
listening to them without reproaching them, and by doing
what they desired.
In 1774 Louis XV. died; the unfortunate Louis XVI.
mounted the throne, which gave an idea that the Palais
Royal would enjoy a high credit, because the Princess of
Lamballe, who was the intimate friend of the Duke and
" Duchess of Chartres, was the favourite of the new queen.
Madame de Lamballe was extremely pretty, and though her
shape wanted elegance, and she had horrid hands, which
contrasted strangely from their size, with the delicacy of
her face, she was charming without regularity ; her disposi
tion was mild, obliging, equal, and gay, but she was totally
destitute of talent ; her vivacity, her gayety, and her childr
ish air, concealed her insipidity in an agreeable manner ;
she never held an opinion of her own, but adopted in con
versation the opinion of the person who passed for having

MADAME DE GENLIS. 363
the most wit, and this in a manner which was altogether
peculiar to herself. When there was a serious discussion^
she never opened her lips, but affected absence of mind ;
and then suddenly appearing to start from her reverie, she
repeated, word for word, as from herself, what the speaker
fead said whose opinion she adopted, and affecting great
astonishment when any one told her that the same thing had
jvust been said, she assured every body that she had not
heard it. She employed this little contrivance with great
address, and it was a long time before I could discover it.
She had, besides, a great many little failings, which were in
fact nothing but childish affectation ; the sight of a bouquet
of violets would make her faint — as would the sight of a
crawfish or a lobster, even in a picture ; on these occasions
she would close her eyes, and without changing colour,
remain motionless for more than half an hour, in spite of all
the assistance which was afforded her, though" nobody be
lieved in these pretended fainting fits. 1 saw her faint in
this manner in Holland, in Mr. Hope's cabinet, on casting
her eyes on a small Flemish picture, representing a woman
Selling lobsters. Another time af Crecy at the Duke of
Penthievre's, after supper, I was sitting by her on a sofa,
while Mademoiselle Bagarotti was telling ghost stories;
suddenly she heard a domestic in the antiroom yawn aloud,
as if awaking. Madame de Lamballe affected so much
emotion at this that she fell fainting upon me, and remain
ed so for such a length of time, that we sent to awake M.
Guenault, the duke's surgeon, who came running down
stairs in his dressing gown. As the fainting fit continued,
and r was very anxious to go to bed, I proposed aloud to
M. Guenault who was a fool, to bleed the princess in the
foot, being quite certain that she would recover from her
fit before the bleeding. M. Guenault objected that it
would be right to wait somewhat longer on account of sup
per ; but I told him I had remarked that the princess had
scarcely eaten any thing. * Upon this, without hesitation,
M. Guenault ordered hot water, and with an air of triumph

364 MEMOIRS OF *
(for bleeding the princess was a glorious exploit for him,)
he proposed to go and wake M. de Penthievre, who
always went to bed before us : but this I opposed. At last
the basin of hot water arrived : M. Guenault took out his
lancet, when suddenly and unexpectedly the princess re
covered her senses. I have seen her act a thousand scenes
of this kind. Afterward when periodic attacks of the nerves
eame into fashion, Madame de La,mballe never failed to
have two regularly every week, on the same days, and at,
the same hours, for a whole year. On these days accord
ing to the practice of other patients of the same kind, M.
Saiffert, her physician always came to her at the stated
hours. He rubbed the hands and temples of the princess
with a spirituous liquid ; she was then put to bed, where she
lay two hours in a fainting fit. During this scene her in
timate friends who came on these days formed a circle
about her bed, and conversed quietly until the princess
rose from her lethargy. Such was the person who exer
cised a supreme dominion over the mind of the queen, in
the beginning of her reign. When , she was absent from
court she wrote to the queen, who at last showed her let
ters ; every one laughed at the style and the spelling, and
the princess lost all her favour ; however she kept her place
as superintendent of the queen's household — a post renew
ed for her; there had not previously been a superintendant
at court since Mademoiselle de Clermont.
The king, in the first year of his reign, went to Marly to
be inoculated. All the princesses went upon this journey,
and I accompanied Madame de Chartres on the occasion.
The excursion was very brilliant, and amused me much.
The Duchess of Chartres and I ran a great risk of losing
our lives by an accident. One day we were sitting in the
ground floor, close to each other on a sofa, over which was
a large looking-glass. We were opposite a door which
opened on the terrace, where the Duke of Chartres and M.
de Fitzjames were amusing themselves with shooting at a
mark, with pistols charged with ball, their backs being turn-

MADAME DE GENLIS. 365
ed towards us. A ball which had struck a marble statue,
was thrown back by the rebound into our room, breaking
just over our heads the glass which was behind us.
I was first of all lodged at Marly in a disagreeable little
room, which was only separated by a thin partition from
the apartmei.it of Madame de Valbelle, lady of the palace,
so that we overheard each other's conversation in an incon
venient manner, especially as we were not acquainted. On
coming into my room in the evenings after supper, I used
to play or sing two good hours before going to bed. One
night between eleven and twelve, as agreeably to my habit
I was playing on the harp, and decyphering a sonata, M.
d'Avaray, to my great surprise, suddenly entered my room,
and told me in a whisper that the queen was with Madame
de Valbelle, on purpose to hear me play on the harp. I
immediately began to play all I knew of instrumental and
vocal pieces, and this lasted for an hour and a half without
interruption, for I expected that some movement in the next
room would inform me that the queen was going — but the
silence was unbroken. At length being quite fatigued, I
ceased playing. I was then applauded loudly, and repeat
edly. M. d'Avaray then came to thank me in the name
of the queen, and to say for her all sorts of obliging things.
She repeated these compliments to me next day when I
went to pay her my court. She was so highly pleased with
my harp and my singing, that I had at this time all kinds
of facilities for introducing myself into her< private parties,
by consenting to play at the concerts at which she herself
sang. I should have been seconded by Madame de Lam
balle, who strongly advised me to pursue the opportunity ;
but I wore already enough of chains, without adding others;
such a thing as this would have required an enormous time,
and would consequently have deranged all my studies,
which have always been the real charm and consolation of
my existence. I therefore refused to allow any steps to be
taken in the matter. In a fortnight I was told that I was to
lodge in one of the charming pavilions of the garden. This

366 MEMOIRS OF
pavilion, like the others, contained two residences ; the one
very handsome on the ground floor, and the other, though
inferior, on the first, very neat. It was the latter which
was assigned to me ; the Prince of Conde occupied the
other. As soon as he understood that I was about to lodge
in that pavilion, he hastened to remove his furniture into
the smaller apartment, in order to leave me the handsome
one, which, in spite of my respectful resistance, he obliged
me to accept. I was, nevertheless, by no means in his
good graces ; but such was at that time our politeness to
wards women.
I saw from time to time my aunt, who treated me ex
tremely well, though she loved me no longer ; she took it
into her head to make a journey into Holland ; but my el
dest daughter was ill, and 1 could not think of accepting her
proposition. I sent her a medical statement of the illness
of my daughter, but she was not the less persuaded though
most unjustly, that the illness of my child was only a pre
text to excuse me from accompanying her ; and this led on
her part to the most violent resentment against me. The
next year, I persuaded Madame de Chartres and the Prin
cess de Lamballe, that we should take a journey together
into Holland, which we did ; and this agreeable trip height
ened my natural taste for travelling. The year following
was one of the most melancholy of my life ; I had the mea
sles, of which I was so ill as to be almost dead ; my mother
and my children lived on the Quay des Celestins ; and my
children had the measles at the same time, a fact which was
concealed from me with the utmost care. My son, a
charming boy of five years old, died of the disease. I am
here going to relate an anecdote which will make infidels
smile with contempt ; but as I had ten witnesses who have
related it to persons who are still alive, I shall recount it
with the most scrupulous veracity. I was entirely ignorant,
as I have stated, not merely that my children had the mea
sles, but that they were ill at all ; a thing which it was. very
easy to conceal from me, because being seized with a con-

MADAME DE GENLIS. 367
tagious malady, I should never have thought of asking for
them. My mother, to prevent all suspicion, tore herself
from them two or three hours daily, which she passed by my
bedside ; I was besides watched by M. de Genlis, M. de
Sauvigny, and M. de St. Martin, the surgeon of the Palais
Royal. M. de Genlis every evening at nine o'clock, under
pretext of going home with my mother, went to the Quai
des Celestins, to pass a few hours with his children. My
son died at five in the morning ; on the same day, at the
same hour, I was alone with my nurse, and not asleep ; when
raising my eyes towards the roof of my bed, of which a large
gilt rose occupied all the canopy, I sawtmy son distinctly
under the form of an angel, who, with blue wings spread out,
held out his arms tome!... This vision, without giving me
any suspicion of the reality, occasioned me an indescribable
surprise ; I rubbed my eyes, several times, but I saw con
stantly the same figure. My mother, M. de Genlis, and M.
de Sauvigny, came at eleven ; they were overcome with
grief; but I was not at all surprised at their profound me-*
lancholy, knowing that my own state was sufficient to occa
sion great disquietude. As I could not help looking up
every moment to the roof of the bed, with an involuntary
shudder, I was asked several times what affected me, but I
evaded answering ; my mother, knowing my horror of spi
ders, thought that perhaps, I saw one ; at last, as the ques
tions were not likely to end, I replied, that I did not wish
to mention what I saw, for that they would suppose me de
lirious, which I was not : I was pressed further, and I told
the truth. Their surprise and the shock were too much to
bear ; and they made a pretext for quitting the room, in or
der that they might weep freely. The vision lasted twelve
hours ; at five in the afternoon it disappeared ; my loss was
Concealed from me five weeks, by telling me that I could
not go to see my children without risking their infection
with the measles. When it was no longer possible to de-
ceive,me in this way, M. de Genlis came into my room one
morning with the portrait of my son, as I had seen and de-

368 MEMOIRS OF
scribed him ; he was mounting towards heaven ; at his feet
was a coffin covered with roses, on which these words were
written, He ascends to the abode of the angels. The idea of
this miniature was taken from my account of my vision, af
ter a portrait which M. de Genlis had of the child, which
was a fine likeness. I have always worn this picture, and
I have it still.* It was thus that I became acquainted with
his death, which caused me so much grief, that I fell into a
state of weakness which led every one to entertain fears for
my life.
I thought myself that I was seized with consumption. I
made a kind ofwfll, in which I left a token of remembrance
to all the persons whom I loved ; I composed verses also
on the state to which I was reduced, which I showed to M.
de Sauvigny, who p raked them highly : I do not know what
became of them. I did not regret the loss of life, but as it
prevented me from educating my two daughters ; I was now
Sensible of all its illusions : the ingratitude, injustice, and
"the calumny of which I had been unceasingly the object,
from the time of my entering the Palais Royal, had wounded
my heart in a thousand ways ; the death of my son, and my
ill health aggravated cruelly my melancholy, but my religion
supported me. After the vision which I had seen, after so
signal a favour from God, I ought to have become a saint.
It was not enough to' believe and to feel, I ought to have de
voted to God all my invagination, all my sensibility ! I have
attributed all the private misfortunes which have attacked
me since to the levity and ingratitude which prevented me
from acknowledging the miraculous favour as I ought.
M. TronChint ordered me the Spa waters ; M. de Genlis,
* Since this was written, I have given it to my daughter ; I had that
touching miniature placed on a little box, which she wanted to keep relics
in, which I gave her. — (Note by the Author.)
t " I have seen in Dr. Tronchin an instance of the love of his art, which
made me tremble : it was at the death of M. de Puisieux. M. Tronchin
was his physician and intimate friend, and was under many obligations to
hhn. , M. de Puisieux, the fifth day of his illness, was considered dying—

MADAME DE GENLIS. 369
who was obliged to join his regiment, was Unable to accom
pany me ; but he sent a gentleman, (M. Gillier,) in whom he
had entire confidence, and who deserved it. M. Gillier
was then from forty-five to forty-eight years of age, and had
served as major in the regiment commanded by M. de Gen
lis in the East Indies. I have mentioned his extraordinary
adventures in my Souvenirs. He is, perhaps, the only man
who, with a good disposition, a Herculean form, and acknow
ledged courage, has received in the course of his life two
blows from two different men, both of whom he killed. I
took with me, also, a German painter, (Mr. Ott,) who had
an eminent talent for copying and reducing large pictures
into miniature. A few days before my departure, I went
alone in a coach to ride through the Bois de Boulogne ; the
weather was fine, the air pure and serene, and the wood was
full of hawthorn in flower. That charming harbinger of
spring — the perfume, and the sight of these beautiful plants,
which hasten to greet our sight, to announce the return of
sunny days — the grass which just began to spring up — and
the mild freshness of the balmy air — all produced in me a
melting emotion, of which I shall never forget the sensation.
My languid fancy revived, and raised a hOst of romantic fic-
his senses had left him ; at three in the morning, M. Tronchin, who had
not quitted him for twenty-four hours, told Madame de Puisieux that there
was nothing more to be, done, and he was going to bed. M. de Genlis re
mained in the patient's room. In three quarters of an hour I sent to know
how he was ; I was told that M. Tronchin had returned to the room, and
was by the bed-side. I had now some little hope ; I went into the patient's
room, and was seized with horror at seeing the state in which he was. In
his last moments he had a convulsive laugh ; this laugh was not loud, but
you heard it distinctly and continuously ; and this fearful laugh, joined to
the aspect of death, formed the most terrible spectacle which the imagina
tion can figure. M . Tronchin, seated by the patient, looked at him fixedly,
and with the utmost attention. I called him, and asked if he had still any
hope, as he remained by the bed-side of M. de Puisieux. " O good God !
no," said he, " but I never witnessed the sardonic laugh ; and I was glad
to have an opportunity of observing it. " I shuddered, . . . glad to observe
this terrific symptom of approaching death ! and it was the friend of the
dying man who spoke thus !" — (Souvenirs de Felieie.)
47
/

370 MEMOIRS OF
tions ; and in the space of three hours which I passed in that
wood, I composed'in my mind the whole plan of the Vaux
Temer aires ; and on my return home, I wrote down the chief
traits, and a sketch of the characters. I improved my plan
in travelling, arid began to write the work at Spa, from
whence I brought to Paris the first eighty-four pages ; after
ward other matters led me to give up this novel, which was
not finished till about twenty years after, in my cottage at
Brevel. I went to the waters in the month of April,* from Paris.
I went first to Brussels, where I passed a month at Ever-
berg, the country house of the Countess of Merode, re-mar
ried to the Count de Launoy. I saw again, on this occasion,
the Duchess of Ursel, and the Prince de Ligne; Prince
Charles came also to dine with us twice. As he was very
well acquainted with natural history, he was much more
struck than we were with an incident which, nevertheless,
surprised us also. The gardener brought into the dining-
room, while we were at table, a large living scorpion, which
he had just found in the garden. Every one examined it
with great curiosity. It was impossible to imagine how this
dangerous insect, belonging to a hot climate, had been able
to get alone into a park in Belgium. We went from hence
to Mechlin ; and here it was that, at an inn, the Duchess of
Ursel undertook to cook all the entremets for our dinner ;
she went into the kitchen, put on a large apron, turned up
her sleeves, displaying the most beautiful arms in the world,
which, joined to the sparkling freshness of her complexion,
rendered her the most lovely cook ever seen. She sent us
all out of the kitchen, where we could not look enough at
her. At dinner-time she sent us excellent creams, and the
best almond-cake I ever ate. On leaving table, we went to
the cathedral ; I was walking first, and looking up to see the
pictures, when suddenly I fell into a grave which had just
been opened for an interment; I might have broken my leg,
* 1776.

MADAME DE GENUS. 371
or even lost my life, but I got no other injury than a wound
on the right knee. The Belgium ladies, (at that time at
least,) were very superstitious, and regarded the accident as
a fatal omen, which announced approaching death. This
idea threw a gloom over all the party ; but when they saw
that I paid no attention to it, my strength of mind soon en
couraged all the rest.
From Everberg I went to Spa, where I had hired before
hand a little house, which we occupied entirely. 1 felt, on
entering it, a painful and unexpected sensation. Each per
son went to his room, leaving me alone in mine ; I saw my
self surrounded by packages, in an ill-built room worse fur
nished ; and I knew I was to pass four months here, far from
my friends and all I held dear. This idea weighed upon
my heart ; in order to relieve myself, I '_ thought of opening
the window, and looking out into the street; the window
was a sash window, and in lifting it I struck my finger on a
littleyiail, which caused a wound from which the blood flowed
in abundance ; this little incident completed my distress. I
have since learned to support other misfortunes, and other
sorrows, but I had not then acquired a habit of suffering un
lucky accidents. v I sunk into a chair, with my finger still
bleeding, and melted into tears ; but 1 was so sensible of my
weakness, and so ashamed of it, that I called no one. In
eight or ten minutes the door opened, and a man entered,
who came up to me with the expression of joy, and the most
lively emotion. He was an Englishman, Mr. Conway, the
son of Lord Hertford, with whom I had passed six months
at Sillery, six or seven years before ; his father, who had
been ambassador to France, had sent him to Rheims to learn
French, and M. de Puisieux had sent for him to Sillery and
kept him there ; he still preserved the most tender remem
brance of his residence tlfere. He was in the street when I
arrived ; he recognised me, and had come immediately to
see me. The sight of him recalled to my mind the hap
piest days of my life, and my tears redoubled ; he was good

372 MEMOIRS OF
and tender-hearted, and wept along with me, as I detailed
to him the melancholy cause of the derangement of my
health. With regard to himself, he told me he was married,
and that he was at Spa with his wife,for the sake of his health,
for the whole season. The same evening he brought Mrs.
Conway to see me ; she was one of the best persons in the
world. We went the day following to breakfast together at
Vauxhall. Very soon I beGame accustomed to Spa, and
ended by finding it to be what it is, a delightful place. Seve
ral persons of my acquaintance arrived at Spa. I played
and rode a great deal, and took long walks on the mountains.
I reserved constantly five or six hours a day to myself, which
I passed in drawing flowers, playing on the harp, and com
posing. I received no one at my house, except three or four
times when there was a concert. There were at Spa seve
ral travelling musicians, whom I assembled for some little
concerts, where I played on the harp. My health was -quite
re-established in the course of six weeks. ^
M. Gillier, who undertook the charge of all my expenses,
was extremely useful to me in this respect, though the se
verity of his economy sometimes displeased me ; for exam
ple, if I told him to give three or six francs to drink, he
generally gave six or twelve sous. I did not know these
things till afterward, and when I testified my discontent
ment at them, he assured me that he would be more gene
rous for the future — but he never kept his promise. One
day he had a dispute with Saint Jean, my servant, relative
to an account for postage, when Saint Jean replied with great
impertinence : upon this M. Gillier said gravely, " I know
what is due to the livery of the countess ; since you wear
it, you shall not have a beating as you deserve, but your
insolence shall be punished in another way." So saying, he
caught him in his arms, while Saint Jean struggled in vain ;
M. Gillier, whose strength was greatly superior to his, car
ried him to the gutter which ran by our street, and laid him
into it at full length ; a feat which inspired poor Saint Jean

MADAME DE GENLIS. 373
with such a dread and respect for M. Gillier, that he durst
not even complain of his adventure, which I only learned a
fortnight after.
I went with Madame de Champignelle to Dusseldorf, to
see the famous gallery of pictures ; we remained at Aix-la-
Chapelle, where I saw for the first time the Countess of
' Potocka, who conceived so strong a friendship for me, that
she left Aix-la-Chapelle to accompany me to Spa, where
I was going, and where we passed two months together;
she promised to come to Paris the winter following, and she
kept her word. I wrote to Paris to request a prolongation
of my leave of absence, and to M. de'Genlis, to beg that I
might be allowed to take a journey into Switzerland. I
obtained all I asked, and we set out.
In order to go direct to Luxembourg, we were compelled,
against our intention, to sleep in a horrible little tavern, in
the midst of the woods, called the hovel. We had been ad
vised not to stop at this wretched place, and were assured
that it was almost regarded as the haunt of cut-throats ; but
necessity obliged us to it. M. Gillier took but one pre
caution, which was to display his two pistols and his hunt
ing knife ; armed thus, he entered first of all the horrid
hovel, and M. Ott, my woman, and myself followed. We
found in a large room on the ground-floor, the master of the
house, with four or five servants, sitting round a table, and
eating; they all had their hats on, which they nev^r offered
to pull off on our approach. I remarked that the chief of
them had a broad gold lace round his hat: M. Gillier,
provoked at the insolent behaviour of these persons, walked
up to the table with a martial air, and knocked off with his
cane the gold laced hat of the chief of the band, saying at
the same time, " Don't you see the lady ?" This action
made me tremble, but it struck the men with so much
dread, that all rose at once and took off their hats. I took
advantage of this impression to request that M. Gillier
might sleep in a room close to mine ; this was agreed to,
and I was shown into a miserable room separated from M.

374 MEMOIRS OF
Gillier's only by a thin partition. We had scarcely lain
down, when (the idea of being in a house of cut-throats
keeping us thoroughly awake,) we heard a dreadful noise in
M. Gillier's room, and J distinguished perfectly the voice of
M. Gillier, who was crying in a suppressed voice, " Ah !
villain, I have got hold of you at last, you shall not escape me
now !" I also heard the sobs of M. Ott ; he seemed to me
to be crying for mercy, a thing which did not at all surprise
me, as 1 knew him to be a great coward ; full of alarm, I
jumped out of bed, as did Mademoiselle Victoire, and we
knocked loudly against the partition ; immediately the noise
ceased, and I heard M. Ott say distinctly, " Ah, madam,
save me ! M. Gillier is going to strangle me !" We then
ran to the door of the bed-room, were we had to wait a
few moments, M. Ott being in his shirt. Being relieved
from our terror about robbers and murderers, I questioned
M. Gillier about this singular scene; and M. Ott, who
seemed to have come to life again at seeing me, hastened
to relate how M. Gillier had seized him by the throat,
threatening to strangle him, if he did not beg pardon of him
for his constant mockery of him. I must state for the pro
per understanding of the adventure, that a few days pre
vious, we had found in an inn an absurd portrait, of the mis
tress of the house : the latter, who was excessively ugly,
was painted as Flora, holding a watch, upon which her eyes
were fixed ; this figure, made us all laugh ; when M. Ott
happened to say with a great deal of truth, that the face
was precisely like that of M. Gillier. I had the misfortune
to agree in this opinion, and my gayety on the subject in
spired M. Gillier, not only with great anger, but with a
profound feeling of resentment, which he dissembled as well
as he could, but which broke out as has been seen, when he
found himself alone at night with M. Ott. He did not in
tend any thing more, he said, than to give M. Ott a slight
chastisement, which should learn him to be less impertinent
in future, and that, if his cowardice had not made him cry
out, every thing would have passed off in. a proper manner.

MADAME DE GENUS. 375
After this incident, M. Ott behaved very respectfully to
wards M. Gillier, and never ridiculed him but traitorously,
when we were alone together.
The next day we continued our journey, and arrived at
Luxembourg, where I resided at the house of the Prince of
Hesse, who had the kindness to offer me the use of it. As
we travelled just as I wished, from thence we went to
Strasburg, where I met the Chevalier de Coigny and M.
du Coudi-ay, a most estimable person, and a soldier of
merit, who afterward went to the United States of Ame
rica, a short time before M. de la Fayette ; the latter had
the good sense to cultivate his friendship, and be governed
entirely by his counsels. M. du Coudray directed and
seconded all his military operations, of- which the entire
success was owing to him. M. du Coudray, after all his
exploits, was drowned in the river Delaware, which he was
attempting to cross on horseback, deeply regretted by the
Americans, to whom his talents had been so useful.. He
wanted nothing for his glory but a name more illustrious,
and to belong to a powerful family, who could have pub
lished his actions in France — a care which he never
troubled himself about, for his modesty was extreme. He
and the Chevalier de Coigny pointed out to me all that
was worth seeing at Strasburg; we ascended together the
famous steeple of the Cathedral, and I had. the honour of
inscribing my name on the silver bell. From Strasburg I
went to Colmar ; in going thither we stopped at an inn to
dine, where M. Gillier acted a scene of another descrip
tion. They gave us an excellent fish called a ferare, of
which the liver, justly renowned, is as good as that of the
eel-pout, and infinitely larger. I served this fish, and I ate
the whole of the liver ; after this piece of gluttony, 1 per
ceived that M. Gillier was crying ; I asked the cause of his
emotion, and he burst into tears. I repeated my inquiries,
and after many sobs, he told me that he was- " deeply grieved
that I should have eaten the whole of the liver of the ferare,
withorit having offered him a single bit." He added, that

376 MEMOIRS OF
"it was not for the sake of the liver, which he cared
nothing about ; but that this mark of want of respect had
cut him to the heart." During this explanation, M. Ott, in
order not to burst out a laughing, kept blowing 'his nose, or
holding his handkerchief to his face; the motion of his
shoulders, however, would have betrayed him to M. Gil
lier, had not all the sensibilities of the latter been directed
to me.
On arriving at Colmar I met my step-father, the Baron
d'Andlau, who received me most affectionately, gave a ball
on niy arrival, made me some very handsOme presents,
and took me to Basle, paying all my expenses, a thing quite
surprising in him, and for which I was doubly grateful,
knowing him to be a great miser; he made me stay four
days at Basle, at the excellent inn of The Kings. We had
four repasts a day, the longest I ever made in my life. I
went through all Switzerland, writing my journal out daily.
I stayed some time at Lausanne, wishing to consult M.
Tissot relative to my mother's health. Persons came
from all parts of Europe in the season to consult this fa
mous physician. On arriving at Lausanne, it was impossi
ble to find a lodging. While M. Gillier and M. Ott were
looking out for one in vain, I sat lonely in my coach with
my maid. A young man the Prince of Holstem, whom I
had met in the library at Basle, was at his. window ; and on
recognising me, and seeing my situation, he- came down
to my carriage, opened the door, and handed me out, say
ing that he would conduct me to a lady's house, who would
receive me. Delighted at this I went along with him ; and
at the end of the street he led me into, a house ; we went up
stairs and passed through several rooms, and at last arrived
in a handsome saloon, where I saw a pretty young lady
seated, playing on the guitar ; this was Madame de Crouzas,*
* Notwithstanding his prodigious fatness, the celebrated Gibbon was
very gallant. One day being tete-a-tete with Madame de Crouzas, Gib
bon wished to seize the favourable moment, and suddenly dropping on his
knees, he declared his love in the most passionate terms. Madame de

MADAME DE GENLIS. 377
afterward Madame de Montolieu, authoress of some plea
sant translations and imitations of English and German
novels. The prince mentioned my name, and begged Ma
dame de Crouzas to give me an apartment in the house of
her father-in-law who was not at home. Madame de Crou
zas received me with infinite grace, rose up, and conducted
me immediately to her father-in-law's house, after sending
for my travelling companions, and lodged me in charming
apartments which had a magnificent view on the Lake of
Geneva. I passed twelve days at Lausanne, without ever ,
quitting Madame de Crouzas. I was invited to fetes, balls,
and concerts ; and I sung and played on the harp as much
as they pleased. I enjoyed many delightful excursions on
the lake, and I did not fail to visit the rocks of Meillerie.
The company which I saw at the house of Madame de
Crouzas was very agreeable ; I saw there daily M. Tissot,
who seemed flattered at seeing that I knew all his works by
heart ; he loved music, and I had great pleasure in playing
on the harp for him. At one of these parties I met with a
painful triumph. A gentleman in black, whom I had not
before seen, was present. I sang particularly well the air,
" I have lost my Eurydice," of which Gluck himself had
given me the true expression ; in the midst of the air the
gentleman in black burst into tears, and fell fainting into
the arms of the person next him ; he had lost, three months
before, a wife whom he adored. Madame de Crouzas who
had heard me sing the air before, and who was not near me
at the moment, made me a sign not to sing it, but unfortu
nately, I did not understand her meaning. I quitted Lau
sanne, with the promise of keeping up a correspondence
Crouzas replied in a tone likely to prevent a repetition of such a scene.
Gibbon was thunderstruck, but still remained on his knees, though fre
quently desired to get up and to resume his seat. " Sir," said Madame de
Crouzas, " will you have the goodness to rise ?" — " Alas, madam !" replied
the unhappy lover, " / cannot .''' His size prevented him from rising
without assistance ; upon this Madame de Crouzas rang the bell, saying to
the servant, " Lift up Mr. Gibbon !" (Souvenirs de Filicie.)
48

3 I 9 MEMOIRS OF
with Madame de Crouzas, which lasted twenty years. From
Lausanne I went to Geneva, and from thence to the abode
ofM. de Voltaire.
I had no letters of introduction to him ; but young married
ladies from Paris were always sure of being well received
by him. I wrote to him to request permission to visit him ;
there was in my note neither wit, nor affectations, nor (flat
tery, and I dated it Ao&t (August) while M. de Voltaire in
sisted on writing it Auguste. The philosopher of Ferney
sent me a very gracious reply ; he said that in honour of
my visit he would leave off his slippers and dressing gown,
and sent me an invitation to dinner and supper.
When I received M. de Voltaire's flattering reply, I was
seized with a kind of terror which caused me to make the
most disagreeable reflections. I recollected all that I had
been told of persons who went for the first time to Ferney.
It was the custom, especially for young females, to be agi
tated, to grow pale, and even to faint on seeing M. de Vol
taire ; they threw themselves into his arms, stammered in
their speech, wept, and showed an emotion resembling the
most impassioned love. This was the etiquette of a pre
sentation at Feraey ; M. de Voltaire was so accustomed to
this kind of homage, that mere politeness, even the most
obliging, appeared to him either a proof of impertinence or
stupidity. I am however, naturally timid and reserved with
persons whom I do not know. I never had the courage to
praise any to their face with whom I was not particularly
intimate ; in other cases such eulogies are always to be sus
pected of flattery ; they must be in bad taste, and cannot
fail either to displease, or to wound the object of them. I
resolved however, without making a scene, to conduct my
self so as not to excite any surprise ; that is to say, I deter
mined not to appear ridiculous ; to go somewhat beyond
my habitual simplicity, and to be less reserved, especially
in speech.
I left Geneva early, in order to arrive at Ferney, by my
calculation, just before M. Voltaire's dinner hour ; but as

MADAMF. DE GENL'lS. 379
my watch was a great deal too fast, I got there too soon, and
did not discover my error till I arrived. There is no kind
of awkwardness more disagreeable than that of arriving too
early for dinner at the house of persons who know how to
employ their morning hours. 1 am sure I must have cost
one or two pages to M. de Voltaire ; but it consoles me to
think that he was no longer engaged in writing tragedies. I
only prevented him from writing a few additional blasphe
mies — a few more licentious verses. Earnestly wishing to
look pleasing in the eyes of this celebrated man, who had
done me the honour to receive me, I had taken great pains
with my dress ; I never wore so many feathers and flowers.
I had an unlucky presentiment that my attempts in this way
would be the only ones which could have any success. On
the road I tried to keep alive my feeling for the illustri
ous old man whom I was (about to visit. I repeated verses
from his Henriade and his tragedies ; but I felt that even
supposing him never to have profaned his genius by so many
productions unworthy of it, and that he had never written
any thing but the splendid compositions destined to immor
talize him, I could only in his presence testify my admiration
in silence. It would be allowable and natural to show a
feeling of enthusiasm for a hero, for the liberator of a coun
try, because without either reading or talent, all can com
prehend deeds of this description, and our gratitude seems
to authorise such an expression of the sentiment they inspire ;
but when we declare ourselves the zealous partisans of a
Uterary man, we announce our conviction of our ability to
judge correctly the merit of all his works ; we engage to
speak to him about them ; to discuss and to expose his opi
nions ; how much then are all these pretensions misplaced
in a young person, and. especially in a female !
I took along with me M. Ott, who had just returned from
Italy. He had a great deal of talent and very little lite
rature ; he spoke French very badly, and had never read
a line of Voltaire ; but from his reputation, he had ac
quired for him all the, requisite enthusiasm. He was in
transports on cOming in sight of Ferney, which I at once

380 MEMOIRS OF
wondered at and envied ; I should have been glad to catch a
share of them. We passed before a church, on the front of
which these words were inscribed— — " Voltaire raised this
temple to God." This inscription made me shudder ; it could
only have been inspired by the most extravagant and impious
irony, or the most singular levity.
At last we arrived in the court of the chateau, and got
out of our carriage. We first entered a dark antichamber.
M. Ott, on perceiving a picture, cried out, " It is a Cor-
reggio !" We went near it ; but though placed in a bad light,
it was in reality an original picture by Correggio, which M.
Ott was exceedingly displeased at seeing hung in such a
place. On entering the drawing room we found it empty.
I saw evident signs throughout the chateau of that disa
greeable confusion which announces an ill-timed visit. The
servants had all an air of bustle, and on every side there
were bells ringing, the noise of feet coming and going, and
of doors opening and shutting. I looked at the drawing
room clock, and saw with vexation that I had arrived three
quarters of an hour too soon — a discovery which did not
contribute to give me ease and confidence. M. Ott saw at
the other end of the room a large painting in oil, of which
the figures were half the size of life. A splendid frame, and
the honour of being placed in the drawing room, seemed to
announce something important. On drawing near, to our
great surprise, we discovered a regular ale-house sign — a
ridiculous picture, representing Voltaire surrounded by
rays of glory like a saint, with the family of Calas at his
feet, and trampling his enemies under them, Freron, Pom-
pignan, &c. who were expressing their humiliation by open
ing their mouths wide and making the most hideous grima
ces. M. Ott was indignant at the design and colouring,
and I at the whole composition. " How can any one think
of placing such a thing in a drawing room ?" cried I. " Yes,"
replied M. Ott, " and leave a picture of Correggio in a dark
antichamber!" The picture was entirely the invention of
a miserable Genevese painter, who had presented it to M.

MADAME DE GENLIS. 381
de Voltaire ; but.it appeared to me unaccountable how the
latter could have had the bad taste thus pompously to ex
pose so wretched a production. At last the door of the
drawing-room opened, and Madame Denis, the niece of
Voltaire, made her appearance, with Madame de Saint Ju-
lien. These ladies told me that M. de Voltaire would come
down stairs shortly. Madame de Saint Julien, who was
very agreeable, but whom I did not at all know, was residing
at Ferney for the summer ; she styled M. de Voltaire my
philosopher, and he called her my butterfly. She wore a
gold medal at her side. I thought it was an order, but it
was a prize for shooting, given by M. de Voltaire, which
she had gained a few days before. This kind of exploit is
remarkable in a woman. She proposed to me to take a
walk, to which 1 gladly consented ; for I felt myself so awk
ward and embarrassed, and I dreaded so much the first ap
pearance of the master of the house, that I was glad to es
cape a moment in order to retard the terrible interview.
Madame de Saint Julien led me out upon a terrace which
would have 'commanded a magnificent view of the lake and
the mountains, had not some one had the detestable taste of
erecting on the terrace a long walk entirely shaded with
trees, which shut out the view. The only glimpse you
could catch of the beautiful scenery, was by little loop holes
through which 1 could not pass my head, and the roof of
the walk was so low that it caught my feathers continually.
I stooped low down, and in order to make myself still shorter,
I bent my knees a great deal. I was constantly treading
on my gown, stumbling, breaking rily feathers, and tearing
my clothes ; anijn ,this most inconvenient attitude I was
not in the humour for enjoying the conversation of Madame
de Saint Julien, who being a little woman, and wearing a
morning undress, walked about quite at her ease, talking all
the time very agreeably. I asked her, laughing, whether
M. de Voltaire had not been displeased at my dating my
letter Aout. She replied, " No, but that he had remarked
that I did not adopt his orthography." At last we were

382 MEMOIRS OF
told that M. de Voltaire was in the drawing room. I was
at this moment so harassed and out of humour, that I would
have given any thing to have been able to transport myself
to my inn at Geneva.
Madame de Saint Julien judging of my feelings by her
own, hurried me along with her. On reaching the house I
had the vexation, in passing through one of the rooms, to see
myself in a looking-glass. My hair was all in disorder, and
my whole appearance was discomposed and truly pitiable.
I waited a moment to put myself a little in order, and then
I courageously followed Madame de Saint Julien. We en
tered the drawing-room — and I stood in the presence of M.
de Voltaire. Madame de Saint Julien advised me to salute
him, saying with great good nature, " He will be very much
pleased." I approached gravely, and with the expression
of respect due to old age and great talents. M. de Voltaire
took my hand, and kissed it. I do not know why so ordi
nary an action should have so much touched me, as if that kind
of homage were not as common as unmeaning ; but I was
really flattered that M. de Voltaire should have kissed my
hand, and I, in my own mind, felt perfectly inclined to em
brace him, for I maintained all my usual self-possession. I
presented to him M. Ott, who was so highly delighted at
hearing himself named to such a distinguished character,
that I thought he would have burst into tears. He immedi
ately took from his pocket some miniatures he had painted
at Berne. As ill-luck would have it, one of these paintings
represented the Virgin with Jesus in her arms, at sight of
which M. de Voltaire expressed some very silly and dis
gusting impieties. I thought it contrary both to the duties
of hospitality and to the claims of decency, to express him
self in such a manner in presence of a person of my age,
who had no pretension to the character of an unbeliever,
and whom he saw for the first time in his life. I was much
disgusted, and turned towards Madame Denis, so as not to
seem to notice what fell from her uncle. He changed the
subject of conversation, and spoke of Italy and the fine arts

MADAME DE GENLIS. 383
in the same strain as he wrote concerning them, that is,
without taste and without knowledge. I only said a few
words, expressive of my disagreement with his opinions on
the subject. Literary topics were not mentioned at all,
either before or after dinner ; for he thought, I believe, that
such subjects could not be very interesting to a lady who
came forward in conversation in such an unpresuming man
ner. However he kept up the conversation with politeness,
and sometimes even with gallantry towards me.
During the whole time of dinner, M. de Voltaire was very
far from being agreeable. He seemed always in a passion
with his servants, incessantly crying out to them, and that
too, with such strength of lungs that I often started involun
tarily. As the dining-room repeated sounds very strongly,
his tremendous voice reverberated in the most alarming
manner. I had been told beforehand of this singular foible,
which it is so unusual for any one to display before stran
gers ; and, in fact, it was evident enough that it was the mere
result of habit, for his servants were not surprised at it or
minded it in the least. After dinner, learning that I was
fond of music, he desired Madame Denis to play on the
harpsichord. Her old-fashioned style transported me, in
fancy, to the times of Louis XIV., but it did not recall the
most pleasing features of that great age. She was finishing
a composition of Rameau's, when a pretty little girl, about
seven or eight years of age, entered the room, ran up to him,
and clasping her arms round his neck, called him papa. He
received her caresses with great good nature, and seeing that
I was delighted at this agreeable sight, he told me that the
child belonged to a grand-daughter of the great Corneille,
to whom he had given a marriage portion. How affected v
I should have been at that moment had I not recollected his
Commentaries, in which his injustice and envy are so awk
wardly and openly displayed. Here we were continually
shocked by the appearance of contrasts of the most repul
sive kind; so that admiration was either arrested in its

384 MEMOIRS OF
flight or altogether destroyed by disagreeable recollections,
sometimes even by disgusting improprieties.
M. de Voltaire received several visiters from Geneva, and
then proposed to take me out in his carriage. Horses were
put, and he, with his niece, myself, and Madame de Saint
Julien, entered the berline, and set out. He took us to see
the houses he had built, and the benevolent establishments
he had founded in the village. He was greater there than
in his works, for every where was seen a well-directed bene
volence : and we could scarcely be persuaded that the same
hand which had written such impious, false, and wicked
things, should have performed such kind, wise, and noble ac
tions. He showed the village to every stranger that came
to visit him, but he did it unaffectedly; spoke with the ut
most simplicity and good feeling on the subject, told us
what he had done, and yet had not the least appearance of
boasting of his conduct ; and I know but few persons who
could say as much. On our return to the house the con
versation was very lively, and we spoke with great interest
of every thing we had seen. I did notsetout before night;
M. de Voltaire invited me to stop till next day after dinner,
but I was desirous of returning to Geneva.
All the busts and portraits of him that I have seen are ex
tremely like him ; but no artist has fully expressed the eyes.
I expected to find them keen and full of fire, and they were
certainly the liveliest I ever saw ; but they also had some
thing indescribably soft and tender in their expression — the
whole soul of Zaire was expressed in them. His laugh and
bitter smile greatly altered the expression of his face. He
was much broken down, and his old-fashioned style of dress
made him look still older. He had a sepulchral tone of
voice that made him look very strange, particularly as he
had a custom of talking excessively loud, though he was not
deaf. When neither religion nor his enemies were talked
of, his conversation was simple and pleasing, without a par
ticle of affectation, and consequently, with such wit and

MADAME DE GENLIS. 385
talent as he possessed, perfectly delightful. It seemed te
me that he could not bear that any one should have a dif
ferent opinion from his own ; and when opposed in the least
degree, his manner became warm and bitter. He had cer
tainly lost much of the politeness and habits of society he
had formerly been accustomed to ; and it was quite natural
that this should be the case. Since he had been residing
here, people came to see him only to flatter and praise him
to the skies ; his opinions were held oracular, all that sur
rounded him were his most humble worshippers ; he heard
of nothing but the enthusiasm he inspired, and the riiost ri
diculous exaggerations seemed in his eyes only common of
ferings of homage and respect. Kings have never been
the object of such extravagant adulation, for etiquette for
bids certain flatteries to be lavished on them ; conversation
is not carried on with them ; their presence awes and silen
ces ; and, thanks to this feeling, flattery is forced at court
to retain some marks of modesty, and not to show itself un
less under the most delicate forms. Open and unrestrained
flattery I never saw but at Ferney, and there it was alto
gether grotesque ; but when it can please, from the influence
of habit, in such a shape, it mu^t necessarily spoil the taste,
conversation, and manners of the individual exposed to its
fascinations. Hence were the personal feelings of M. de
Voltaire so extremely irritable, and hence did critical at
tacks cause him a childish chagrin he never could conceal.
At that moment he had just felt a very keen disappointment.
The Emperor was about to travel very close to Ferney, and
as M. de Voltaire expected a visit from the illustrious tra
veller; he had prepared fetes, and written verses in honour
of the event, which unluckily every body knew. But the
Emperor travelled on without stopping, or even sending him
a single message. Some one asked him as he was approach
ing Ferney, if he would see M. de Voltaire, when he dryly
replied — " No ! I know him too well already." This cut
ting and profound saying proves that he had read his works
like a man of talent and an enlightened monarch.
49

386 MEMOIRS OF
After an instructive and delightful journey, I returned to
France by way of Fort l'Ecluse and Lyons, and arrived at
the Palais Royal in the beginning of autumn, after a five,
months' absence. A few days after my return, M. de Gen
lis told me that as the government of the island of St. Do
mingo was vacant, he was desirous of obtaining it, which,
he said, would be perfectly easy, as the Minister of Marine,
M. de Boines, was very favourably disposed towards him, and
the only thing to be done was to get Madame de Lamballe
to ask the place from the Queen. I told M. de Genlis that
I would not consent to solicit suCh a distant post for him un
less I went along with him ; he opposed my resolution, but
it was all in vain, for I never retracted a resolution in my
life which required a painful sacrifice to form. It was agreed
that I was to go to St. Domingo ; Madame de Lamballe
spoke to the Queen, and obtained the wished-for promise.
The whole business seemed so certain, that we ordered the
plate and household things suitable to a public situation of
that kind ; but, all at once, the whole matter failed, for M.
de Boines was dismissed from his office, and M. de Sartine,
a man personally hostile to my husband, was put in his place.
To tell the truth, I was not then sorry for the result; but I
have often since regretted that I did not go : as such a jour
ney would have afforded me much information, done so
much credit to my courage, and which, in the sequel, would
have spared me so many harassing cares, and painful diffi
culties. On my return from Switzerland, I found Madame de Po-
tocka, who had intended to stay only two or three months in
France, but who, on my account, remained a much longer
period. Not to lose her society, I had made arrangements
so as not to be of the court party this year at Fontainebleau.
I went along with her, my mother and my children, M. de
Genlis, the Comte de Brostocki, (a young Pole related to
Madame de Potocka,) and M. de Sauvigny, to spend all the
time, which was six weeks, at Versailles, where "we had the
Appartemens du Palais Royal, as the apartments of the

MADAME DE GENLIS. 387
Duke of Orleans, of the Duke and Duchess of Chartres and
their ladies of honour, in the interior of the castle, were
designated. I was allowed the use of them all during the
journey to Fontainebleau, and we saw every thing in the in
terior of the castle, even the small private- apartments of
the princes of the royal family. We passed our time delight
fully, and M. de Genlis made an immense number of draw
ings with his pen, with a variety of pretty songs. M. de
Sauvigny read us some scenes of a tragedy he was then wri
ting; and I began to give regular lessons to my eldest daugh
ter Caroline, who was ten years of age, and whose under
standing was altogether astonishing for her years. Her
beauty was so remarkable, and her pleasing ways so fasci
nating, that it is an actual fact that the Count de Brostocki,
who was twenty-four years of age, really fell in love with
her, and six months afterward, asked her in marriage. In
the sequel, we shall see how much he persevered in his offer.
I did not return to Paris till the court party had come back
from Fontainebleau, in the beginning of November. Ma
dame de Potocka caused me to be much from home the
whole winter, as, she was desirous of seeing all the remark
able curiosities in Paris, the public buildings and establish
ments, the great manufactories, and even the private col
lections of curiosities, pictures, and natural history. We
began a course of natural philosophy with M. Sigault de la
Fond ; and immediately afterward, a course of chemistry
applied to the arts, with M. Mittouart, (assistant professor
of chemistry, and first apothecary to Louis XVI.) The lat
ter course was attended by a select party of twenty-five
persons of our acquaintance, among whom were Mesdames
d'Harville, de Jumilhac, de Chastenet, de Melette, d'Arcam-
balle, de Meulan ; the Chevalier de Cosse, the Vicomte de
Gand, the Chevalier de Chastellux, M. Guibert, the Count
de Custines, M. de Genlis, and some others. I believe I
have already mentioned that two or three years before this,
I had prevailed on the Duchess of Chartres, to give us the
recreation, three times a week after dinner, of a course of

388 MEMOIRS OF
natural history ; but it was a recreation for nobody but my
self, as I alone profited by it, because the worthy M. de
Bomare came occasionally to give me private lessons in my
own room. He presented me with a synopsis of the dif
ferent subjects -in his dictionary, carefully arranged, and I
read it with great attention. These different courses did
not make me learned, but they gave me general notions on
scientific subjects, which afterward made the books I read
much more agreeable to me, rendered my travels more in
structive, and were at the same time, of great utility in my
purely literary studies.
During my stay at Spa, and after my return, I had writ
ten several little comedies for my daughters ; the three first
were Agar, dans le Desert, Les Flacons, and La Colombe.
I had them performed on a small private theatre, which I
borrowed for the occasion. To this little play I invited
about sixty persons. The success of the two plays was
astonishing, for my second daughter, Pulcherie, had a most
wonderful talent for this kind of acting. Though scarcely
eight years old, she moved the audience to tears in playing
the character of Agar, and in comedy showed equal talent.
Mademoiselle Sainval the elder, of the Theatre Francois,
gave her lessons in tragic acting. 1 took upon me to teach
her comedy, and she performed equally well in both. She
was not distinguished for the dazzling beauty or regular
features of her sister ; but her face was charming, full of
expression, and the sound of her voice went straight to the
heart. The daughter of Madame de Jumilhac performed
the character of Ism'del, and my eldest daughter that of the
angel, which she so greatly resembled, that when she first
appeared there was a general burst of applause and admira
tion in the theatre which did not subside for several minutes.
This success encouraged me to further efforts ; and I imme
diately set about writing, night and day, two other longer
plays, Les, Dangers du Monde, and La Curieuse. So many
persons requested to be admitted to see the performance,
that I found it necessary to look out for a larger theatre.

MADAME DE GENLIS. 38&v
We found one at length, much larger than I wanted, for it
held five hundred persons. It belonged to a private com
pany of citizens, who lent it with great good-will ; and I
sent them one. hundred tickets for themselves, but the rest
of the audience consisted of all my own acquaintance, and
many persons besides, with whom I had no intimacy what
ever. Pulcherie in the Curieuse, advanced even the high
reputation she had formerly obtained ; and my eldest daugh
ter, in the Dangers du Monde, played the character of the
viscountess with indescribable effect ; her sister was equally
successful in the character of the marchioness. The specta
tors called loudly for the author, who did not appear, and for
a second performance, which was granted on the condition
that it should not be before two weeks. In the interval I
was asked for an infinitely greater number of tickets than I
could supply, and among the unsuccessful applicants was a
very amiable young man, the Marquis de Saint Blancard,
whom I scarcely knew at that time. He came unknown
to me, however, dressed like one of the servants of the
theatre. I could not refuse three tickets to M. de Schom
berg, and six more to the Viscount de la Tour du Pin, for
three celebrated literary characters, with whom I had
hitherto no acquaintance, Messieurs de la Harpe, Marmon-
tel, and d'Alembert.* The success of this performance
made so much noise, that the Chevalier de Chastellux (who
was very fond of me at that time) was quite alarmed for my
future happiness. After the play, when the curtain had
fallen, he ran up to me on the stage with tears in his eyes,
and embracing me with the liveliest emotions, exclaim
ed: — " This day is a glorious one for you, but it foretells
storms/ that make me tremble for your peace." He was
right, though I did not feel any of his alarms, because my
vanity, both as a mother and as an author, blinded me as to
* The latter next day wrote me a very complimentary letter concerning
these plays ; I admired the strength of his memory, which was displayed in
the recollection of whole scenes with perfect correctness, and even of the
very words of the play  (Note by the Author.)

390 MEMOIRS OF
the future. In fifteen days I wrote Zemire et Azor, or La
Belle etla Bite, which was performed during the winter,
along with the Enfant Gate. These plays were all equally
successful with the first, and made the same noise, yet not
one of the ladies of honour of the Palais Royal asked me
for a ticket. What is more remarkable, neither Madame
de Montesson, nor the Duke of Orleans desired to see a
single performance. Yet I had no quarrel with my aunt
whatever, and was even so good-natured as to play proverbs
pretty often at her house ; but the fact was, her envy in this
point was so great that she could not bear to think of seeing
me so highly applauded. The Chevalier de Chastellux wrote
some fine verses on these performances, and some very
beautiful ones were likewise written by M. de la Harpe,
which are to be found in his Correspondence with the Grand
Duke of Russia.* I received letters from M. D'Alembert,
* Of the various poetical pieces written on this occasion, all equally
'flattering, which M. de La Harpe mentioned in his correspondence, I shall
only quote the following letter :
" Madame de Genlis has had these little plays performed by her own
children, who are only ten or twelve years of age, but endowed with such
precocious talents and wonderful intelligence, that they give new charms
even to the compositions of their mother. She lately gave a representation
of three of these plays, on a private theatre, to which the best company in
Paris were invited, and which afforded the whole of the spectators, without
a single exception, the most inexpressible delight. I was so happy as to be
amongst the number ; and the next day sent the following verses to the
amiable author, with whom I was not acquainted, but who had made me
enjoy one of the most delightful emotions I ever experienced in the course
of my life." Non, ce que j'ai senti ne peut etre un prestige ;
Non, j'ai su trop bien en jouir,
Et si l'on doute d'un prodige,
Comment douter de son plaisir?
Les drames ing^nus, composes, pour l'enfance,
Ou l'art, soumis a l'innoeence
Se defend les ressorts qu'ailleurs il fait mouvoir,
Avec tant de reserve ont-ils tant de pouvoir ?
Ton art, belle Genlis, l'emportant sur le notre,
Ne fait parler qu'un sexe, et charme l'un et 1'aulrt

MADAME DE GENLIS. 391
and from M. de Marmontel.' . ^Besides these plays, I wrote
le Bailli, a comic drama, in which Pulcherie, who per
formed M. Bailli, was delicious. This play, which kept the
audience in a roar of laughter, is not to be found in my
Theatre d'Education. I lost it in a very strange way. I
had no copy of it, and gave the manuscript to the prompter,
who, in being called on some business upon the stage after
Que tes tableaux sont vrais dans leur simplicity !
Tu peins pour des enfans, mais la maturity
Et se reconnott et t'admire ;
Le miroir ou tu les fais lire
Sur nous de tes lemons r&lechit la clarte\
Jamais, jamais la v^rite >
N'exerca sur les coeurs un plus amiable empire.
Mais je parle a l'auteur de ses succes brillans,
Quand je puis applaudir au bonheur d'une mere !
Je suis bien sure de te plaire,
En te parlant de tes enfans.
Vous, la gloire et t'amour d^uhe mdre attendrie !
O Caroline, Pulcherie,
Des mains de la nature 6 chefs-d'oeuvre naissans !
Elle a sur votre aurore e'puise' ses pre'sens.
Vous semblez ignorer parmi tant de suffrages,
Et nos plaisirs et vos talens ;
A celle dont les soins forment vos jeunes ans
Vous reportez tous nos hommages,
Vous oubliez enfin dans vos jeux innocens
Qu'il n'est donne qu'a vous d'embillir ses ouvrages.
Quel ensemble enchanteur ! quel spectacle charmant !
Mon coeur est encor plein du plus pur sentiment,
Mon ceil encor frappe' de la plus douce image,
De ce transport flatteur, de ce ravissement,
Que faisoient naitre a. tout moment
Les graces de son style et celles de votre age.
Je pensois a sa joie, a ses felicit^s,
Aux mouvemens de sa tendresse ;
Je songeois que ces oris de la publique ivresse,
Dans son coeur maternel ^toient tous r£p6t£s.
Digne mere, jouis, jouis de ces delices.
Ton me &me et tes talens, voila tes justes droits.
- Dans toi seule aujourd'hui Ton adore a la fois
L'auteur, l'ouvrage et les actrices. (Note by the Author.)

392 MEMOIRS OF
the performance, left it behind him ; when he returned it
was not to be found; every inquiry was made in vain, and
it was lost without our being able to form even a guess at
the person who had stolen it. During the same winter, I
wrote the He Heureuse, but it was only performed before a
small select party. Madame de Potocka and I played the
characters of fairies, and in the after piece, which was the
Flacons, we both performed again, Madame de Potocka the
fairy, and I the mother. These performances were con
tinued till summer came round, so that they lasted without
intermission for eight months. I had no idea of printing
these plays, though I had already been for more than two
years an author in print, but anonymously. When M. de
Sauvigny was writing a work, entitled, Le Parnasse des
Dames, he pressed me so much to give him leave to insert
three comedies I had written, that I yielded to his entrea
ties, on condition that the matter should be kept perfectly
secret. He inserted them under the title of Plays by a
young Lady. There was Les Faus:ses Delicatesses, which
I mentioned already ; La Mere Rivale, and the Amant Ano-
nyme, which I wrote at Villers-Coterets in a fortnight.*
* The Chevalier de Chastellux wrote the following stanzas on the au
thor, the actors, and the plays of this little theatre ; they were addressed to
Madame de Genlis. Lise, a vos spectacles charmans .
Quf peut refuser son suffrage ?
Drame, acteurs, tout est votre ouvrage3
Et Ton n'y voit que vos enfans.
De vous-mgme heureuse rivale,
Et feconde dans le printemps,
Vous voulez que l'enfance egale
Et vos appas et vos talens.
Partout, en voyant ces prodiges,
Dont nos Garricks seroient jaloux,
On sent que leurs plus doux prestiges
Sont encore £manes de vous.

MADAME DE GENLIS. 393
I had spent a very brilliant winter ; my success had put
me greatly in fashion, I received innumerable invitations to
suppers, all of which I refused, as well as all new connex
ions, but I made Madame de Potocka acquainted with a
great many agreeable persons, and she was very highly dis
tinguished in society for her beauty, wit, and gracefulness.
She came to almost all the grand suppers at the Palais
Royal, saw all the inmates of the court one after another,
and judged of them with the same talent of observation as a
lively Frenchwoman would have done. Among the young
ladies, those she thought most striking were the Princess
d'Henin, the Viscountess de Laval, of a mild, and at the
same time, keen look, and of a conversation similar to her
countenance ; the Princess de Poix, whom 1 have already
mentioned ; the Duchess of Polignac, the queen's favourite,
whose face was enchanting since the fashion came in of
letting the hair fall down over the forehead, the only defec
tive part in her countenance. The favour she enjoyed,
never changed any of her natural sweetness and simplicity.
She was said to have little sense, but I think she must have
had a great deal to have preserved her former unaffected-.
ness in such an elevated situation, and to have been able to
maintain herself in the highest favour without being intoxi-
Ainsi dans vos jeux le plus sage
Sans le savoir peut s' engager,
Et, n'adorant que votre image,
II croit vous aimer sans danger.
Eh ! qui peut voir dans la prairie
L'onde errer sur de verts gazons,
Sans chercher la nymphe cherie
Qui les enrichit de ses dons.
Ah ! suivons plut6t dans leur course,
Suivons ces amiables' ruisseaux ;
Qui voit en paix couleur leurs eaux
Pourroit s'enivrer a leur.source.
These plays were performed in the winter of 1777 and 1778,— (Note by
the Editor.) 50

394 MEMOIRS OF
eated with her power, and without making a single enemy.
I have often conversed with her, and always found her highly
agreeable. Her cousin and friend, Madame de Chalons,
the sister of M. d'Andlau, (my father-in-law's nephew,) was
very handsome, amiable, and witty. Her sister-in-law, Ma
dame d'Andlau, the daughter of M. Helvetius, would have
been very beautiful, if she had not had a defect in one eye,
with which she could not see ; she was amiable, good,
graceful, and governed by principles altogether different
from those her father displayed in his writings. She had
the merit of giving a most excellent education to her two
daughters, who were very interesting and lovely. Madame
de Sabran, now Madame de Boufflers, was one of the most
enchanting creatures I ever knew, by her appearance, ele
gance, wit, and accomplishments. She danced exquisitely*
painted beautifully, wrote pretty verses, and was endowed
with unbounded sweetness and good-nature. Madame de
Potocka was often invited on my account to the petits sou-
pers of the Palais Royal, for the princes had suCh kindness
for the ladies of honour as to admit into their company
(their nearest relations and most intimate friends. The per
sons not belonging to the Palais Royal, who came most fre
quently to these parties, were Mesdames de Beauvau, de
Boufflers, de Luxembourg, de Segur, (the mother and daugh-
ler-in-law,) the Baron de Talleyrand, the Marchioness de
Fleury, all intimate friends of the Duchess of Chartres.
The Baron de Talleyrand had a fine person, and was not
deficient in talent ; but he was heavy in conversation, and
not very agreeable. His wife had a pleasing shape, and
something old-fashioned in her look ; her language and man
ners were not dignified, her conversation was composed of
gossip and insipidity ; but her conduct was irreproachable,
she was an affectionate wife and a tender mother. The
Marchioness de Fleury had a fine face and beautiful eyes,
though she was short sighted at the time, and afterward be
came completely blind. She was good, lively, and unaf
fected. I was very intimate with her, till her death. While

MADAME DE GENLIS". 39i)
speaking of her I wish to refute in this place a very absurd
calumny. In some Souvenir, or other, (for innumerable
ones came out after mine,) it is asserted that the Duke of
Chartres had a book containing a list of all the young ladies
belonging to the household of the Palais Royal, with the va
rious qualities in opposite columns, at the head of which
were the words, the pretty, the agreeable, and the abominable
ladies ; and that the name of Madame de Fleury was inserted
in the last column, which she was informed of, and never par
doned. There is not an iota oftruth in the whole story.
Madame de Fleury was very handsome, and the Duke of
Chartres was so fond of her, that he called her his sister,
while she called him brother ; she was always intimate with
him, and preserved the warmest friendship for him to the
last. She was too much praised for her simplicity and un-
affectedness ; and she began to consider as real accomplish
ments, those feelings that really render accomplishments
pleasing, and she lost all their charms by adopting the wildest
singularities. Without mentioning her name, I have given
a portrait of her in the Souvenirs d? Feltcie, but I did not
mention the following anecdote, which gives an accurate
notion of her general behaviour in company. She went
one evening to sup with the Princess de Guimenee, and as
usual, there was a large party ; as she came to pay her re
spects, she was dressed in grand costume. Instead of
taking off her long train in the anti-chamber, she did not
take it off till she reached the drawing-room, and Madame
de Guimenee said, with a laugh, that she might as well take
off her hoop-petticoat also. With a great deal of pleasure,
said Madame de Fleury : at this unexpected saying several
ladies ran towards her to urge her to this frolic — her hoop-
petticoat and fine silk under petticoat were taken off, and
in a moment she stood before the company completely un
dressed, displaying her big person, her little tippet, and her
little short dimity petticoat, round which her two pockets
were dangling. This was done before more than fifty per
sons, and I was one of the number. She remained in this

39tJ MEMOIRS OF
strange costume the whole of the evening, from half-past
nine o'clock till two in the morning, without showing the
smallest embarrassment, any more than if she had done the
commonest thing in the world.
Madame de Rochambeau, daughter-in-law of the general
Who afterward became a Marshal, was like Madame de Dam
pierre, remarkable for the frankness of her disposition, con
versation, and manners, of which I never knew any other
instance in high society, than in those two individuals. The
perfect purity of their habits gave great value to this singu
larity. The Chevalier de Chastellux, who was also one of
my dearest friends at this time, had a noble and generous dis
position ; but though his talents were above the common
run, they did not rise into a very superior rank. His com
pany was pleasing and trustworthy, for with great knowledge
he had not a tinge of pedantry ; and, in fact, his conversa
tion would have been singularly pleasing, had be not had
the foible of filling it with puns. He wrote some good plays
for private acting ; but his book of Felieiti PubUque is not a
good work, though it ought to raise our esteem for the cour
tier and man of the world, wlio was capable of writing it.
He is the first author, I believe, who has shown strong indig
nation and conterhpt at the ancient Spartan manners, which
have been so greatly admired, and which, in fact, were so
excessively barbarous, as the Chevalier de Chastellux clearly
perceived and strongly expressed in his work. The Vi
comte de Segur came also, but not often, to these little par
ties. He was handsome, but affected a kind of indolence
and non-chalemce that made his carriage and way of talking
ridiculous in my eyes. I never saw in society a single in
stance of foppery so perfectly undisguised, and consequently
so utterly tasteless and unfashionable. His wit was nothing
but noise, his reputation for agreeable accomplishments,
nothing but a fashion ; his brother possessed infinitely more
merit and talent. I never had any opportunity of becoming
acquainted with his disposition, but I have heard facts men-
iioned that do great honour to the goodness of his heart.

MADAME DE GENLIS. 397
M. de Dampierre, husband of the lady I have mentioned
above, had a frankness and sincerity that gained every heart.
The Marquis de Rouffignac was the most completely chi
valrous man ever seen during my times in society,; brave,
sincere, capable of the most heroic friendship, he was es
teemed by all who knew him. He had no other fault than
that of being too susceptible, and of fighting duels for the me
rest trifles, which presented a singular contrast to the ex
treme mildness of his manners. I shall here take an oppor
tunity of relating several anecdotes of him that will suffice
to give a very good idea of his character. The Chevalier
de Boufflers, so celebrated for his wit, at first displayed
nothing but liveliness and wit in some beautiful verses, but
had a sound judgment and pleasing demeanor ; and though
he long laughed at -sensibility, and sung the praises of incon
stancy, he proved that he possessed deep and ardent feeling,
and that merit combined with grace could fix his heart. In
his early youth, he has run through and mastered every branch
of lively wit and poignant satire, and reserved judgment for
his mature age, which is in fact, giving it all the authority it
can obtain. As I have already mentioned M. de Vaudreuil
and some others, I shall renew the thread of my narrative.
At this period I had an accidental meeting with a person
which gave me great delight. I was walking one morning
in the Palais Royal, when I perceived a lady of six or seven-
and-thirty, walking with a very young lady, who looked at
me with striking interest and attention. I looked, at her
earnestly also, the features did not seem unknown ; I instantly
startled and exclaimed, "Tis Mademoiselle de Mars !" She
came up to me, took my hand, which she pressed tenderly,
and said to me in a faultering voice, " Let us restrain our
selves in this place— <at what hour could I see you to-mor
row ?" — " Any time hi the morning," I replied. She hastily
left me on hearing these words, and I was so confused with
this unexpected meeting with a dear friend, that I hurried
home immediately. During the whole day 1 thought of
nothing but fter, could not close my eyes during the night,

398 MEMOIRS OF
and rose very early next morning. She did not come till
ten o'clock ; but the moment I heard her, I ran forward to
meet her, and embraced her with the deepest emotion,
without beirig able to utter a single word. This excellent
young lady was equally affected ; we breakfasted together,
and chatted till one o'clock. We talked of scarcely any
thing else but the Chateau of Saint-Aubin, and the happy
tiriies of my childhood. Of herself she merely told me,
that she had lately taken upon herself to act as governess of
the children of Madame de Voyer ; but that as that lady's
temper did not suit her very well, she did not expect to re
main in that situation long. In fact her eminent accomplish
ments in a very short time placed her in the family of the
Princess Louise de Conde. The secretary of M. de Voyer
who had secured himself a comfortable independency, had
the good sense to appreciate the merits of Mademoiselle de
Mars, married her, and soon after took her into one of the
provinces. But I saw her almost daily, during the time
she remained with Madame du Voyer. She came several
times to our private plays, and remembered with delight the
period at which she had seen me perform Iphigenie and
Zaire, when I was about the age of my daughters, and even
at an earlier age.
Amidst the many cares of every kind by which I was con
tinually harassed, there was one that gave me more trouble
than all the rest ; I mean my concern for my brother's suc
cess in life, as my aunt, (who knew him only so far as having
Seen him occasionally on New Year's Day) made not the
slightest effort for his advantage. He was fifteen months
younger than me, with a handsome person, mild, modest,
and unassuming manners. He had a natural talent for
geometry, which he very successfully applied to mechanics,
and in other respects was exceedingly clever. He had a
pleasing turn fer poetry, much taste for the fine arts, par
ticularly for music, the composition of which he knew pro
foundly, and in which he wrote some delightful songs. His
disposition was so extremely mild, that it afterward de-

MADAME DE GENLIS. 399
generated into tameness and weakness ; but no one could be
more good-natured, have nobler sentiments, or a more ex
cellent heart. We were very fond of each other from our
earliest infancy, without a single instance of coolness having
taken place between us, or even a single word of difference.
I was continually meditating how 1 should enable him to
make a fortunate marriage, and had already failed three
times in the attempt, when, at length, I was advised to at
tempt to unite him with Mademoiselle de Raffetau, a young
lady of high birth, and I fully succeeded, thariks to the
influence I was supposed to enjoy at the Palais Royal, and
the powerful protection naturally expected from such a near
relation as Madame de Montesson. Yet, in spite of all
my endeavours, she did nothing whatever to advance the
marriage, which would have failed after all, had I not
taken upon myself to lodge and maintain the new married
couple. For this purpose it was necessary to have the
consent of M. de Genlis, and it was a great sacrifice on his
part, for: I could lodge them no where else but in his apart
ments which were immediately adjoining my own. With
the most perfect kindness he gave up to them his own pri
vate apartments, finely furnished, and in the most excellent
order, and hired one for himself in a house that looked into
the garden of the Palais Royal, but without the Palace.
Mademoiselle de Raffetau had lost her mother at twelve
years of age ; she was now eighteen, and had been at the
convent of Panthemont with a very ignorant governess,
who succeeded, notwithstanding, in giving her a most
finished education as far as regarded pious and charitable
duties, and all the more amiable qualities of the mind. I
shall mention only one instance of the moral lessons she
gave, to show the correctness of her views in education.
The late Madame de Raffetau had maintained a poor para
lytic old woman, whom the daughter took care of at her
mother's death ; and the governess made her be brought
once a week to the convent in a chair. She was received
in the outer parlour, whither the governess and her pupil

400 MEMOIRS OF
hastened on her arrival ; and as the poor woman could not
make use of her hands, Mademoiselle de Raffetau combed
her hair, washed her feet, and pared her nails ; but when
the governess was not pleased with her pupil, she deprived
her of the happiness of exercising these pious duties of cha
rity, and fulfilled them herself; this was the only penance
to which her pupil was ever subjected ; but it was one that
threw her into the deepest affliction. This fact, (which I
have mentioned in the Veillees du Chateau,) is alone suffi
cient to show the high character of both governess and
pupil. This excellent and sublime idea was very far su
perior to the notion of depriving a young lady of the plea
sure of wearing a handsome dress. Yet this excellent gover
ness had never been any thing more than a waiting maid to
Madame de Raffetau : it would certainly be difficult to find
a woman with such sentiments amongst the common people
of the present day ; but at that period there was much re
ligious feeling amongst the lower classes. Mademoiselle de
Raffetau was httle, but charming; her face was regular
and extremely pleasing. I never saw any one else with
such beautiful hands and pretty little feet, except Madame
de Louvois ; her skill in doing every thing was absolutely
like magic ; in embroidery no one could equal her ; and as
her governess had given her a music-master, and her own
voice was admirably fine, she sung like an angel. Madame
de Montesson gave her nothing but a watch, of the value
of ten louis, as a marriage present ; for my own part I gave
her the marriage corbeille, and added to it a number of my
finest jewels. Madame de Montesson gave the marriage
dinner, to which I conducted the young married lady, who
was greatly admired for her pretty person and agreeable
manners. I afterward took her to pay all her marriage
visits, presented her at court, and to all the princes, ahd,
in a word, did all the duties of a mother towards her,
and that, too, with the utmost pleasure, for I conceived
the strongest affection for her, on account of her unaf
fected talents, and charming sweetness and gayety of tem*

MADAME DE GEKL1S. 401
per. She was never idle for a moment. I gave her les
sons in grammar, in which she made astonishing progress in
a very short time ; and she likewise paid great attention to
her writing, which soon became excellent. Her object in
attending to the latter, was to enable herself to copy the
memoirs in various subjects, that my brother was continually
writing; and she succeeded so well, that she became his
best copyist, and even transcribed, without the slightest
error, long articles on the sciences, full of all kinds of geo
metrical figures. She resided with me only ten months, for
she was so greatly admired, and so much interested every
one that knew her, that Madame de Montesson saw the
surprise that people generally entertained at her conduct in
not giving them a home, and at last determined to take her
and my brother into her own house.
It was Monsigny who persuaded her to take this lofty
step. That excellent man, who constantly felt the warmest
interest in every thing relating to me, was distinguished for
talent and skilful management, as well as for good-natured
simplicity. He was perfectly well acquainted with the tem
per and selfish disposition of Madame de Montesson ; and
told her, with great apparent simplicity, all the facts that
he could collect, respecting the strong affection of my sister-
in-law for me, and the great honour we obtained in public
opinion by our mutual attachment. The result of all these
reports was, that she first of all took them to St. Assise, and
then kept them with her ever afterward. It was with
great regret on both sides that we parted, after having lived
together for ten months. I still maintained the closest inti
macy with my sister-in-law, which was continued without
interruption, till her death. When she left me, M. de Gen
lis did not return to his old apartment, as he gave it up to
my mother and my children, that I might have an opportu
nity of giving regular lessons to my daughters.
Madame de Potocka spent two years in Paris. We re
commenced our private theatre the winter after, and it was
towards the middle of this winter that I formed the idea of
51

UJ2 MEMOIRS OF
establishing an order, which I called the Order of Perseve
rance. The only persons in the secret were Madame de
Potocka, and M. de Brostocki, who maintained every where
that this order had formerly existed in Poland. Every one
believed this to be really the fact, for the following reason.
The King of Poland had some time before sent me his por
trait and a letter, in which he asked for mine in return, and
returned me thanks for all the kindness I had shown to his
countrymen^ for, in fact, all the Polish ladies who arrived
in Paris, came first of all to see me. I took upon me to
present them at the Palais Royal, and to show them all the
little attentions commonly shown to strangers. I sent my
portrait to the King of Poland, andeonfidentially communi
cated to him my plan of the order of Perseverance. He was
so good as to write me a charming letter, written on pur
pose to be shown, in which he thanked me for reviving an
order founded in Poland in the days of yore. This was writ
ten by his own hand, and signed. I showed it to every one,
and nobody had the least suspicion of the story we had fa
bricated. I maintained that I held the rules of the order
from Madarne de Potocka and M. de Brostocki, and that I
had done nothing but put them in order. In forming my
establishment, I took a part of the prettiest costumes of an
cient chivalry, and added innumerable romantic trifles of
my own, with some customs peculiar to the academies of
the learned. Members were only received by ballot, and
were subjected to a trial, which was always one of wit and
intellect, for they had to guess at the enigmas I composed,
and answer the moral questions put by the president. They
afterward read or pronounced a discourse in praise of some
virtuous quality, which they selected at their own discretion.
The president replied in a short moral exhortation, and
made them take the oath, which was religious, patriotic, and
chivalrous at the same time. I had not forgotten to make
them swear to defend, on all occasions, weakness and inno
cence overpowered by oppression, and, likewise, to make
known to the world the noble actions they might discover.

MADAME DE GENLIS. 103
For the latter quality I even founded a prize. Every knight
and every lady who should bring before the society, the dis
covery of three noble actions, well authenticated, and judged
deserving by the majority of votes, were to receive a gold
medal of the value of a hundred and twenty livres ; but it
was necessary that none of these actions should have been
performed by a relation or friend of the person who brought
them forward, nor by a member of the society. The medal
represented on one side a crown of laurel and ever-greens,
with the word Perseverance ; and these words on the other
side — Reward of Virtue. There were four medals given in
all ; I had one, and sometime afterward, when our numbers
amounted to fifty, I was voted another, as a recompense for
the services I had rendered to the order. Every knight
and every lady were obliged to assume a device ; every
knight chose a brother in arms, and every lady a female
friend. To prevent every invidious feeling among my own!
friends, my mother allowed me to choose her for mine. It
was optional with the ladies to choose a knight, or other
wise ; but when one was chosen, it was always done so as
to avoid malicious allusions. My brother and M. d'Osmont
(nephew of M. d'Osmont of the Palais Royal) were the first
knights whom we admitted ; and my brother chose M.
d'Osmont for his brother in arms. Our third knight was
the Duke de Lauzun ; and the first ladies were, my mother,
Mesdames D'Harville and Jumilhac, and my two sisters-in-
law. Our first president was the Marquis de Seignelai.
When we had been established a fortnight, M. de Lauzun
gave us, at a house he possessed beyond ,the Barriers, in the
centre of a garden, a tent he had got made expressly for
our meetings, which were held once a fortnight. The tent
was very large and magnificent, and was richly ornamented
within. Every one of the members of the order was obliged
to bring a picture of a certain regulated size, well painted
and framed, representing his device, and this was placed in
the interior of the tent, which we called the Temple of Ho
nour. We had our colours, which were white and gray ;

404 MEMOIRS OF
and the ladies and gentlemen wore a light gray scarf, ricli.
embroidered with silver. Every knight received, on his
admission, a gold ring, with the initial letters of the device
of the order enamelled. The device was as follows :
Candeur et loyaute, courage et bienfaisance,
Vertu, bonte, perseverance.
The order was much talked of,* and we were so much
•
* I was walking one morning at the Palais Royal, when I met M. de
Rulhiere. I had given him a letter to send to America some time before,
and he now told me that he had given it to the Count de Palouski, who
was about to depart, and who, besides, had claims to be preferred by me to
every other. "Why ?" "Are you not a lady of the order of Perseverance ?"
— " Yes, but what of that ?"— r" Why, because the Count de Palouski is a
son of the founder of your order." At these words I smiled, and said —
•' That cannot be, for our order is as old as the crusades." — " Good God !
whom do you tell this to ? I know very well, that it is as old — for though
not a knight of the order, I ought to know something about the matter,
lor I have been many years in Poland, and have written the history of the
late revolutions, hence, I hate made a great many researches, and knew all
that could be known concerning the order of Perseverance many years be
fore its very existence was known here." — " In fact that is knowing an im
possibility — but I should be delighted if you would have the goodness to
give me some particulars on the subject." — " With all my heart."
I then took a chair to listen more attentively to, so curious a subject :
while M. de Rulhiere sat down and began : — " I have made use of an im
proper term in calling the Count de Palouski the founder — but he was cer
tainly the restorer of the order, which had fallen into neglect ; he revived
it, strengthened it by the addition of an immense number of knights, of
whom, he, in a certain degree, became the leader. His son, at his death,
was thus at the head of this party, and opposed to the king, so that he
formed a most powerful league against him ; and the king then did what
had been done by Henry III., he declared himself chief of the league that
menaced him. He made an immense number of new members with all pos
sible speed ; the knights of Palouski's party abandoned him, and joined the
king's , and all this occurred without risk, or raising the slightest noise or
bustle, because every thing is mysterious in the proceedings of this order,
as the rules declare that all meetings and ceremonies shall be secret, and
that the knights shall wear no external symbol of initiation. This stroke
of policy was most excellent, and gives me a higher idea of the king of
Poland than that commonly entertained ; but, the fact is, nobody knows any
thing at all about these things. However, Palouski is now alone and pros-

MADAME DE GENLIS. 405
pressed to admit new members, that our numbers soon in
creased to a large extent. This eagerness for admission
was the more flattering to us, as we had neither dancing,
music, nor refreshments at our meetings, and that each sit
ting was terminated by a collection for the poor. When
one or more collections amounted to six hundred francs, a
knight and a lady were appointed to inquire what poor per
sons merited assistance, and they were both to go together
to ascertain the truth of the reports, so as to determine
upon the persons to whom assistance should be given.
This produced another beneficial effect, that the knight and
lady always gave some assistance of their own to the poor
they saw, and whom they had not selected from their own
choice ; and besides this they were obliged to write all the
particulars of what they did, in a journal set apart for the
purpose, with the names and addresses of all the poor to
whom alms had been given. At the next meeting, the jour
nal was read aloud, signed, and delivered to the president,
by whom it was placed amongst our archives. Madame de
Sabran, now Madame de Boufflers, was one of our ladies,
who fulfilled this pious duty with the greatest zeal, kindness,
cribed, and one of the insurgents — that is his history. " — " It is a very strange
one," replied I, " I did not know it, though I was a little acquainted with
him : I knew that he was at the head of the conspiracy and of the party
that arrested the king ; but all the details concerning the order of Perseve
rance you have given were absolutely unknown to me." — " It is rather droll
that a stranger should teach them to one of the initiated."—" Oh, certainly,
very droll ! but, at any rate, I still have the advantage of you by knowing
the ceremonies." — " Not at all — don't flatter yourself with that fallacious
hope : I know that they are very fine, very warlike, and calculated to in-
•pire enthusiasm in troublesome times." — " In a word, nothing can be con
cealed from the ardour of your inquiries." " Oh ! when a person writes his
tory, particularly modern history, he is forced to make so many minute re
searches, that he must necessarily discover the most obscure and hidden
transactions." Such was our conversation, of which I have hot exaggerated a single
word, as I wrote it down at the time to preserve the correctness of all the
particulars. What would the historian have said if I had told, him that I
had invented the whole matter from beginning to end, and the order had
never existed but in my imagination ? — (Souvenirs de Felicie.)

406 MEMOIRS Of
and intelligence. Though we were very difficult in our
selections, our number amounted in a few months to ninety.
The order would certainly have become an important, use
ful, and lasting institution, had I not been forced to' leave
it amidst its highest reputation, by my journey into Italy,
and afterward by my residence at Belle Chasse. We had
several very agreeable private ceremonies, which 1 do not
mention here, as it would take up too much time to enter
upon the particulars; amongst these were the initiations of
young persons of both sexes, whom we admitted at the age
of eleven and twelve, but only as spectators, and without
any vote. I am not how speaking of the initiated, of whom
we had ninety members, as I mentioned before. We had
also the ceremony of the departure of the warriors, when our
military knights set out to join their regiments. The
knight's lady was . then obliged to promise him a scarf
embroidered with her own hand for the first great action
he should perform. In obedience to our laws, 1 gave this
scarf to M. de Rouffignac, who, by a strange accident, had
very soon an opportunity of performing a worthy action.
On his way to join his regiment, he was travelling close to
a wood in a post-chaise, and heard cries of murder. His
servant had rode forward, and he was alone, yet he imme
diately stopped the carriage, drew his sword, and rushed
into the wood, in the direction of the cries he had heard,
hallooing as if to bring forward his companions. This
alarmed the assassins, who betook themselves to flight, and
he soon found a man covered with wounds and bathed in
blood. He lifted him up in his arms, and carried him to the
carriage. He was still alive, but he might die on the road,
and M. de Rouffignac thus ran the chance of a terrible crimi
nal prosecution. When he reached the post-house, he took
the wounded man out, sent for the nearest surgeon, and made
his wounds be dressed in his presence. The poor man made
a legal deposition of the facts, and died in half an hour after
ward. M. de Rouffignac sent me all the testimonials of his
adventure, and wrote me to ask for a scarf, which I embroi-

MADAME DE GENLIS. 407
dered with all possible care and despatch, and sent to him
immediately. Some ridiculous stories have been told of this institution
of late years, and even in published memoirs, so excessively
absurd as scarcely to merit the trouble of being refuted. It
is said that the queen was highly pleased with the accounts
she received of our chivalrous ceremonies, and wished to
join the order ; that she asked to be admitted, and that we
refused; now, the fact is, that at one of our meetings some
body said that the queen had spoken highly of the associa
tion, and that perhaps it would not be difficult to prevail on
her to become the grand mistress of the order. Several
persons immediately observed that such an honour would be
ruinous to the society, on account of the frequent journeys
it would necessarily require ; and that, besides, all our free
dom would be lost ; hence was no step taken to engage the
queen's patronage, and nothing more was done. I kept for
many years a copy of the rules of the order, which I had
written, as I have already mentioned ; at Belle Chasse, the
Duke of Lauzun pressed me so much one day to lend them
to him that I consented ; and he afterward gave them to the
Marchioness de Coigny, who obtained my permission to keep
them 
It was during the time that I was at the Palais Royal, that
the Abbe Raynal published his great work on The Com
merce of Europeans in the East and West Indies. That
work, which had but too many partisans at that time, seemed
to me, in every shape, a most monstrous production. I
could not conceive how a priest could have the impudence
and the bad taste to insert such licentious anecdotes, dis
gusting impieties, and seditious sentiments in an historical
work ; and besides, this bad book seemed to me to be writ
ten in a most wretched style, and to contain whole passages
eminently ridiculous by their bombast, nonsense, and pedan
try. We have been pretty well accustomed to such sort of
things since ; but at that time, in spite of the unintelligible
verbiage to be found in the works of Diderot, the habit was

408 MEMOIRS OF
not yet formed of writing in this extravagant and ridiculous
manner. I sometimes went to the sittings of the Academy,
and I always found something ridiculous in the discourses I
heard ; which made M. de Schomberg say that I had the
mildest disposition joined to the most satirical judgment he
had ever known.
Besides giving up the theatres for the purpose of study,
and in order to acquire various accomplishments, I now
gave up balls likewise ; yet I was fond of dancing, though I
renounced it for ever, at twenty-five years of age. I could
not go to a ball in Paris, without going to the court balls, at
least once a fortnight. This required me to spend two
nights at' Versailles, a great loss of time ; so that by giving
them up, I gained a great deal. A few years after, I could
not conceive how it should appear a sacrifice at all, and I
now reap all the advantages of having given them up. All
the prudent privations we impose upon ourselves in youth,
that is, during the short space of a very few years, insure us
infallible resources, and the most delightful enjoyments, for
three-fourths of our lives. Voltaire has said, —
Qui n'a pas l'esprit de son age,
De son age a tout le malheur.
Yet foresight and precaution are good at every period of
life, and in youth can lead to every sort of happiness. It is
then so uncommon, so striking, so meritorious !
New discourses and eloges of the academicians were con
tinually coming out, but the style of those works in general
indicated a faulty school, and that literature was in its de
cline. M. de Voltaire wrote nothing but bad tragedies ; Les
Scythes, Les Guebres Zulime, fyc. Lemierre, the author of
several middling tragedies, had given over writing ; yet there
were beauties in his Guillaume Tell. Madame Riccoboni
had already written all her novels. M. Gaillard published
the only works worthy of notice during this period, after
those of M. de Buffon, the Histoire de Francois I., and the
Rivalite de la France et de I' Angleterre, two excellent works

MADAME DE GENLIS. 409
that will always be an honour to this age and to French li
terature. The author had a great quarrel with the philoso
phers, (his friends at that time,) for having foolishly admitted
in his Rivalite, that there was certainly something miraculous
in the history of the Maid of Orleans. M. de Buffon also
published some descriptions of animals, and invariably with
that finished style which he preserved to his latest moment,
even amidst the bad style formed by the school of Thomas.
Whilst I was at the Palais Royal, M. de Voltaire came to
Paris, where he died. As 1 had seen him at Ferney, and he
left his card at my house, I went to see him three or four
times, when he received me with much politeness, but I
found him so dejected and broken down, that I saw his end
was fast approaching. Some time afterward, I had; rather
an intimate acquaintance with M. Gibbon, author of the De
cline and fall of the Roman Empire, a work highly praised
by our philosophers, because it contains very bad principles,
but which is, in fact, a bad book in all respects, extremely
diffuse, without novelty of remark, and excessively tiresome.
M. de Schomberg was very intimate with M. d'Alembert,
and brought him two or three times to my house, and regu
larly brought me, at M. d'Alembert's desire, all his academi
cal eloges, as soon as they were published. A laughable
mistake took place with one of these. One day that I was
from home, he left me the eloge of La Condamine, but with-.
out the author's name ; and as I had no doubt but that it
was D'Alembert's, like those I had formerly received, I read
it immediately, and was much more highly pleased than
with the rest. The same evening I wrote a note to D'Alem
bert to thank him for the eloge, and added that I thought it
infinitely superior to all his former compositions. The
next day, M. de Schomberg came to scold me with great
severity, and informed me that the eloge was written by M.
de Condorcet. D'Alembert never pardoned me for having
formed an opinion of him so little fitted to soothe his vanity.
The emperor of Germany, brother of the queen of France,
came to Paris, and was greatly admired for his politeness,
52

410 MEMOIRS OF MADAME DE GENLIS.
pleasing manners, extensive knowledge of all kinds, and his
thirst for increasing it. He was prevented by etiquette from
visiting the princes of the blood. I was very desirous of
meeting with him, and reckoning that he would very likely
wish to see the collection of paintings at the Palais Royal, I
engaged the attendant who showed them to strangers to in
form me of his arrival. He did so, one day at twelve
o'clock ; I ran down the stairs immediately, and found the
emperor in the gallery ; he was fifteen or twenty paces from
me, and I walked slowly through the gallery. He asked a
question in a low tone of voice from the attendant, and as
soon as he learned that I was one of the ladies of honour to
the Duchess of Chartres, he came up to me and entered
into conversation with the greatest politeness. I described
to him all the paintings, the painters of which I not only
knew, but also every anecdote and circumstance connected
with them, that is, I could tell through what various hands
they had passed. The emperor seemed to take great inte
rest in the conversation, and continually thanked me for my
information : we thus spent two hours. He was an excel
lent connisseur. in painting, and knew almost all the great
masters without danger of mistake. In person he was good
looking, bearing some resemblance to the Prince de Conde,
but much younger and handsomer. Next day he had the
politeness to leave his card at my house, under his travelling
name.