CHAPTER V

La Muette—Sunrise—Italy—Nocturnal adventure—Governess to the children of Orléans—Scandalous reports—Marriages of her daughters—Death of the elder one—The Comte de Valence
Capital letter O

ONE of the Royal palaces was La Muette, and it was on one of the journeys there that the Queen took it into her head to see the sun rise. It appeared a harmless fancy enough, and she suggested it to the King.

“Indeed,” he said, “you have a strange fancy. Night is made to sleep in; however, if it amuses you I have no objection so long as you do not expect me to be of the party.”

Mme. de Noailles, to whom it was also necessary to speak of the proposed plan, was much perturbed.

“Really,” she said, “this question seems to me very difficult to solve. A Queen go to see the sun rise! I do not know whether in the days of Louis XIV. it would not have been thought——”

“Eh! Madame,” cried the Queen impatiently, “spare us ceremonial in the face of nature.”

“However, it is impossible to dispense with an escort of equerries, pages, valets de pieds to carry [398] torches, piqueurs, gardes du corps, and a detachment of the maison rouge.”

“Comtesse de Noailles, you forget the grand-aum?nier, to bless the rising sun after having exorcised the spirits of darkness.”

The Comtesse de Noailles frowned.

“Ah! Madame l’Etiquette,” cried Marie Antoinette, laughing, “God made patience the virtue of kings.”

Directly the Duc de Chartres heard of the project he came to ask to be of the party, and as he was not as yet the open enemy of the royal family, his request was granted.

On the night fixed upon the party, consisting of the Queen, the Comtes and Comtesses de Provence and d’Artois and some ladies and gentlemen of their households, started at three in the morning for Meudon, where a banquet was prepared, after which they went out on the terraces to see the sun rise. It was a lovely night, lamps were scattered about the gardens, guards were posted everywhere, the Queen’s ladies followed her closely. There was a splendid sun rise and all passed off well; but a few days afterwards came out an infamous libel called “l’Aurore,” containing accusations and statements so atrocious that the King, taking it to the Queen, said—

“Madame, do you know what it costs to wish for once in one’s life to see the sun rise? Read that and tell me what you think of the poetry of our friends.”

The Queen read it, burst into tears, and demanded justice and vengeance, which the King, throwing down and trampling on the infamous paper, [399] promised; but said it was difficult to find the persons guilty of writing and selling it—it seemed to have been printed in Holland and the authorship was guessed to be one of the Radical set: Voltaire, Brissot, or perhaps the Duc de Chartres.

Marie Antoinette spoke to the latter about it, and of course he indignantly denied all complicity, but confessed that the libel had been sent him in an envelope, adding that he had thrown it into the fire, and if any of his people had been more imprudent he would dismiss them at once.

For the first circulation had been traced to some of his household. He sent away two men in his service, but it was well known that he paid them their wages all the time and soon took them back again.

It was asserted by one person that she had seen the MS. of the “Aurore” on the table of Mme. de Genlis, but it is not likely that she would have been guilty of mixing herself in such an infamy; it was one of the slanders, probably, of which she complained, but was the result of associating intimately with such a man as the Duc de Chartres.
E. H. Bearne
NICE

The Count and Countess de Genlis accompanied the Duke and Duchess de Chartres to Bordeaux, where he embarked, after a naval review; and the Duchess proceeded on a tour in Italy. To Félicité this was a time of enchantment. The journeys at that time were adventurous, and the Cornice road was then an affair of difficulty if not danger. They went by sea to Nice, spent a week in that delicious climate, and determined to make what she called “the perilous journey” from Nice to Genoa. They [400] went on mules over the pass by Turbia, and found the Cornice as she says truly a corniche—so narrow that in some places they could hardly pass singly, and often they had to get down and walk. They slept at Ospedaletto, the Duchess, Félicité, and the Countess de Rully in one room; the Duchess on a bed made of the rugs of the mules, the others, on cloaks spread upon a great heap of corn. After six days of perils and fatigues, and what they called horrible precipices, they got to Genoa.

They went to Rome, Venice, Naples, and all the little Italian Courts, at which they were received with great honour.

Félicité flirted and amused herself as usual, and at the court of Modena, the Comte de Lascaris took a violent fancy to her. He was surintendant of the palace, and arranged the distribution of the different apartments, and Félicité found her room was at a great distance from that of the Comte de Genlis, and lined with mirrors.

After supper one evening she had retired to her room and was sitting up late, writing; when one of the mirrors moved, and from a door behind it entered M. de Lascaris, and threw himself at her feet. She sprang up with a cry, the table fell upon him, the lamp went out, her maid rushed in—alarmed by her mistress calling loudly for her—in her nightdress candle in hand, while M. de Lascaris disappeared through the door he had came in by, with a cut on his cheek from the table, which excited the curiosity and laughter of the court. To Félicité Italy was one long enchantment, and with reluctance she came back to France.

[401]

For some years Mme. de Genlis had been dame pour accompagner la Duchesse de Chartres, though it was suggested that it was more the Duke than the Duchess whom she accompanied; but she now exchanged this designation for that of “governess to the Princesses of Orléans.” The Duchess, who had always longed for a daughter, was delighted with these two and Mme. de Genlis, who wished to have charge of them from the first.

As, during the first years of their lives, even Félicité herself could not begin to instruct them, she paid a daily visit of an hour to them, and occupied herself in writing a book on education for their use and that of her own children. She also wrote “Adèle et Théodore,” and numbers of other books, novels, essays, plays, treatises on education, &c., which had great success.

When the twin daughters of the Duc de Chartres were five years old, one of them caught the measles, got a chill and died, to the great grief of the Duchess and the remaining twin, Madame Adéla?de d’Orléans. One day the Duc de Chartres came to consult Félicité, as he was in the habit of doing on all occasions; and on this one he confided to her that he could not find a tutor he liked for his boys, that they were learning to speak like shop boys, and that he wished she would undertake their education as well as that of their sister; to which she agreed. It was arranged that the Duke should buy a country house at Belle Chasse, where they should spend eight months of the year; the Duchesse agreed to the plan, all was settled, and Mme. de Genlis embarked on the career of education, [402] which had always been a passion with her, and which she could now pursue with every advantage.

The three young Orléans princes were, the Duc de Valois, afterwards Louis Philippe, the Duc de Montpensier, and the Comte de Beaujolais. The eldest was eight years old.

Besides, she educated her own two daughters, her nephew, César Ducrest, whose mother died and whose father (her brother) was given a post at the Palais Royal, a young cousin, Henriette de Sercey, and later on one or two other children she adopted. But what caused considerable speculation and scandal was the sudden appearance of a little girl, who was sent, she said, from England, to speak English with the other children amongst whom she was educated. On perfectly equal terms with the Princes and Princesses of Orléans, petted and made much of by every one, she was, and still is supposed by many, perhaps by most people, to have been really the daughter of Mme. de Genlis and the Duc de Chartres. At any rate, no English relations were ever forthcoming, and it was never clearly established where she came from, except that she was announced to have been sent over from England at the request of the Duc de Chartres. She was remarkably beautiful and talented, and Mme. de Genlis brought her forward, and did everything to make her as affected and vain as she had been made herself.

The life at Belle Chasse was, as she says, delicious. She had supreme authority, she was dispensed from the trouble of paying visits to any one but [403] Mme. de Puisieux; she had her mother and children to live with her; her husband and brother had posts in the household of the Duc de Chartres.

She could receive her friends as she pleased; her literary reputation stood very high; the Duchesse de Chartres was still infatuated about her; while the Duke——

Mme. de Genlis made a great display of disinterestedness, she refused the 20,000 francs a year offered her by the Duke as governess to his children, declaring that she would educate them for nothing; she refused also the diamonds sent by the Duke and Duchess as a wedding present to her daughter, neither of which refusals there was the slightest occasion to make, but theatrical, unnecessary things were always what she preferred to do. And at the same time she and her family were becoming very rich. Of course her books, bought by all her friends at court, in society, and everywhere, brought her a good deal, but she always had money for everything she wanted. She was promised for her eldest daughter on her marriage, her own former place at the Palais Royal, and a regiment for her son-in-law, her relations were placed and provided for, and she, of course, lived in state and luxury with the Orléans children, amongst whom her own were educated.

Her eldest girl, Caroline, was of a charming disposition, and remarkably beautiful. She inherited her own musical talents and was extremely clever and accomplished. When she was fourteen she was married to a Belgian, the Marquis de Lawoestine; and the wedding was celebrated with great state [404] at the Palais Royal, the Maréchal Prince de Soubise acting as father to the bridegroom. She gave the young girl a magnificent trousseau, diamonds, plate, porcelaines, &c., and after the ceremony her daughter was left under her care for two years more.

In many ways it is probable that no one was more capable of giving a first-rate education than Mme. de Genlis, who had herself so much knowledge and experience, such superior talents and genuine love of art, books and study. She was also careful and strict in the religious education of her pupils, and perfectly free from any of the atheistic opinions of the day.

But her practice cannot be said to have been altogether in accordance with all the professions and talk about virtue and duty, which she made such a parade.

She was so talked about with the Duc de Chartres that the Queen would not receive her at her balls, [119] for Marie Antoinette was trying to bring some reform into the licence prevalent at court, where there was no end to the scandalous incidents that kept happening.

One or two of the gentlemen-in-waiting were found stealing the valuable porcelaines de Sèvres in the ante-rooms, to the great anger of the King.

A gentleman of the court came home late one night, and could not get into his wife’s room, because the maid, who slept in an ante-room, could or would not be awakened. As he was going very early in the morning to hunt, he [405] changed his clothes in a hurry without going to bed, and on arriving at the place of meeting was greeted by his friends with a shout of laughter, and inquiries if he wished to exchange his hunting dress for the costume of the Queen’s pages; as he had put on in haste and half-darkness the haut-de-chausse of one of them, which certainly had no business to be in his room.

Like many other persons, Mme. de Genlis, though she chose to act in a way that she must have known to be suspicious, even if there had been no real harm in it, made a great outcry when the remarks were made, and conclusions drawn that might have naturally been expected.

She posed as a victim, talked of jealousy, slander, ingratitude, &c., and went on with her intimacy with the Duc de Chartres, who was at that time engaged in the most abominable intrigues and secret attacks upon the Royal Family, especially the Queen; and whether rightly or wrongly, Mme. de Genlis was supposed to be mixed up with them.

There had been no disunion or quarrel between her and the Comte de Genlis; they had always been attached to one another, and no break occurred between them; she continued to be devotedly loved by Mme. de Puisieux, whose death she now had to lament.

But all kinds of stories were in circulation about her, which, of course, she indignantly denied. One of them concerned the marriage she now made for her second daughter with M. de Valence, a man of [406] high rank, large fortune, and remarkably bad character, who, moreover, had been for years, and continued to be, the lover of her aunt, Mme. de Montesson. It was positively declared that the Duke of Orléans, going unexpectedly into the room, found Valence on his knees before Mme. de Montesson, who with instant presence of mind, exclaimed—

“See this absurd Valence, on his knees to me, asking for the hand of my niece.”

“And why not grant it?”

“Can I grant it without consulting you?”

“Well! we will promise it him; yes, we will promise him.”

And the marriage was decided.

Mme. de Genlis in her “Memoirs” denies this story, but goes on to say with that half candour, which is perhaps the most deceptive, that she cannot but confess that her ambition overruled her in this matter; that she thought what was said about Mme. de Montesson and M. de Valence might not be true, or if it were, this marriage would put an end to the liaison; and what seems contradictory, that she believed the reason her aunt was so eager for the marriage was, that she thought it would be a means of attaching to her for ever the man she loved. But that her daughter had great confidence in her, and would be guided by her in the way she should behave.

Now Mme. de Genlis had without the least doubt many good and distinguished qualities, and as we all know, human nature is fallible and inconsistent; but it would surely have been better that a woman, [407] who could coolly and deliberately arrange such a marriage for her young daughter, simply and solely from reasons of worldly ambition, should not talk so much about disinterested virtue, contempt of riches, and purity of motives.

It is probable that she deceived herself more than she did other people, and her life in fact, between the Duke and Duchess and their children, could not have been anything but a constant course of deception.

Mme. de Genlis, however she might blind herself, must have known quite well the real character of Philippe-égalité, and if she had all the desire she professed for the virtue and welfare of her pupils, she can hardly have thought that the example of one of the most dissipated scoundrels in France, whose health, as she owns, was early impaired by his vices, would be desirable for them to follow.

But yet she took every opportunity of impressing his virtues upon them, telling them what an excellent father they had, and insidiously winning their affection away from their mother, under the form and pretence of the deepest respect and submission.

The marriages of her daughters which had so delighted her ambition, had not brought her all the happiness she expected.

Mme. de Lawoestine, the elder one, whom she describes as an angelic creature in whom no fault could be seen, died at one and twenty in her confinement. It was a terrible shock to her, and, it appears, also to the husband, although the contents of certain tablets of his wife’s, which he found and gave to Mme. de Genlis some days [408] after her death, would seem to imply that he would not be inconsolable.

One cannot help seeing in the sentiments expressed and the manner of expressing them, the artificial, affected tone which with Mme. de Genlis had become her second nature, and which she had evidently inculcated into her daughter.

The tablets had two columns, over one of which was written, “Calculations of the infidelities of my husband during the five years of our marriage.” They were written down year by year, and when all added up, came to twenty-one.

Over the other column was written, “Let us see mine,” and these were represented by a column of noughts. At the bottom was written, “Total: Satisfaction!!”

“And she really loved her husband!” exclaimed Mme. de Genlis in a fervour of admiration.

Countless were the inconsistencies of the faddists of the party to which she belonged, and in the crotchets of which she had educated her daughter, but what duty or reason or “satisfaction” could there be in such a calculation as this?

And what could be more contradictory to the jargon about Nature, whose guidance, impulses, feelings, &c., were to be so implicitly obeyed, than the spectacle of a woman in the height of her youth and beauty, loving her husband, and yet amusing herself by writing in her pocket-book in this cold-blooded manner, a long list of his infidelities and ending by expressing her satisfaction?

As to the other daughter, Mme. de Valence, her marriage had turned out just as might have been [409] foretold by any one of common sense. M. de Valence did not change his conduct in the least, he was still one of the most dissipated men in Paris though he never stooped to the dishonour of Philippe-égalité. He remained always the favourite of Mme. de Montesson, who at her death left her whole fortune to him.

Mme. de Valence seems to have accepted the situation, but by no means with the Griselda-like “satisfaction” of her sister. Very soon her reputation much resembled that of her husband, and many were the anecdotes told to illustrate the manners and customs of their ménage.

Calling one day upon Mme. de Montesson, Mme. de Valence was told by a new servant who did not know her, that Mme. de Montesson could not be seen; she never received any one when M. de Valence was there.

“I am sorry for that,” she observed, as she gave her cards to the man, “especially as M. de Valence is my husband.”

De Valence was very handsome and a brave soldier; he emigrated but refused to fight against France; returned, obtained the favour of Napoleon, and retained that of Mme. de Montesson, who more than once paid his debts. He was supposed to be the son of a mistress whom his father adored, and to have been substituted for a dead child born to his father’s wife, who always suspected the truth, never would acknowledge him as her son, nor leave him more money than she could help doing as she had no other children.

Speaking of Pulchérie in her journal, Mme. de [410] Genlis, it may be remarked, does not venture to lavish upon her the unstinted praises which she pours upon her sister; but remarks that when she left her care and entered society on her marriage, she had the most excellent ideas and sentiments, the purest mind, and the highest principles possible.

It does not seem to occur to her that it was she herself who caused the destruction of all this purity and principle by giving her child to a man of notoriously bad character; but without taking any blame to herself she goes on to say that Pulchérie was, and always would be in her eyes, gentle, sweet-tempered, kind-hearted, and easy to live with—which she probably was.