Chapter VI: Part 6

Nor was she now in want of congenial associates. Warrington academy included among its tutors names eminent both in science and literature; with several of these, and especially with Dr. Priestley and Dr. Canfield and their families, she formed sincere and lasting friendships. The elder and more accomplished among the students composed an agreeable part of the same society; and its animation was increased by a mixture of young ladies, either residents in the town, or occasional visitors, several of whom were equally distinguished for personal charms, for amiable manners, and cultivated minds. The rising institution, which flourished for several years in high reputation, diffused a classic air over all connected with it. Miss Aikin, as was natural, took a warm interest in its success; and no academic has ever celebrated his _alma mater_ in nobler strains, or with a more filial affection, than she has manifested in that portion of her early and beautiful poem, "The Invitation," where her theme is this "nursery of men for future years."

About the close of the year 1771, her brother, after several years of absence, returned to establish himself in his profession at Warrington--an event equally welcome to her feelings and propitious to her literary progress. In him she possessed a friend with discernment to recognize the stamp of genius in her productions, and anticipate their fame, combined with zeal and courage sufficient to vanquish her reluctance to appear before the public in the character of an author. By his persuasion and assistance, her poems were selected, revised, and arranged for publication; and when all these preparations were completed, finding that she still hesitated and lingered,--like the parent bird, who pushes off its young to their first flight, he procured the paper, and set the press to work on his own authority. The result more than justified his confidence of her success; four editions of the work were called for within the year of publication, 1773; compliments and congratulations poured in from all quarters; and even the periodical critics greeted her muse with nearly unmixed applause.

She was not permitted to repose upon her laurels. Her brother, who possessed all the activity and spirit of literary enterprise, in which she was deficient, now urged her to collect her prose pieces, and to join him in forming a small volume, which appeared also in the year 1773, under the title of "Miscellaneous Pieces in Prose, by J. and A. L. Aikin." These likewise met with much notice and admiration, and have been several times reprinted. The authors did not think proper to distinguish their respective contributions, and several of the pieces have, in consequence, been generally misappropriated. The fragment of "Sir Bertrand," in particular, though alien from the character of that brilliant and airy imagination which was never conversant with terror, and rarely with pity, has been repeatedly ascribed to Mrs. Barbauld, even in print.

Having thus laid the foundation of a lasting reputation in literature, Miss Aikin might have been expected to proceed with vigor in rearing the superstructure; and the world awaited with impatience the result of her further efforts. But an event, the most important of her life, was about to subject her to new influences, new duties, to alter her station, her course of life, and to modify even the bent of her mind. This event was her marriage, which took place in May, 1774.

Her husband, the Rev. Rochemont Barbauld, was a dissenting minister, descended from a family of French Protestants, who had taken refuge in England in the reign of Louis XIV. Mr. Barbauld was educated in the academy at Warrington, and, at the time of his marriage, had been recently appointed to the charge of a dissenting congregation at Palgrave, in Suffolk, near Diss, in Norfolk, where he had announced his intention of opening a boarding-school for boys. This undertaking proved speedily successful--a result which must in great part be attributed, first to the reputation, and afterwards to the active exertions, of Mrs. Barbauld. She particularly superintended the departments of geography and English composition, which latter she taught by a method then unusual, but which has since been brought much into practice. Her plan, according to the statement of Mr. William Taylor, of Norwich, one of her first pupils, was, to read a fable, a short story, or a moral essay, aloud, and then to send them back into the school-room to write it out on slates in their own words. Each exercise was separately examined by her: the faults of grammar were obliterated, the vulgarisms were chastised, the idle epithets were cancelled, and a distinct reason was always assigned for every correction, so that the arts of inditing and criticising were in some degree learnt together. Mrs. Barbauld also instructed the pupils in the art of declamation; and the pleasing accomplishments of good reading and graceful speaking have probably never been taught with more assiduity or with better success than by herself. After a few years thus devoted, Mrs. Barbauld was solicited to receive several little boys as her own peculiar pupils; and among this number may be mentioned Lord Denman, the present Chief Justice of England, and the celebrated Sir William Gell. It was for the use of these, her almost infant scholars, that she composed her "Hymns in Prose for Children."

In 1775, Mrs. Barbauld published a small volume entitled "Devotional Pieces, compiled from the Psalms of David, with Thoughts on the Devotional Taste, and on Sects and Establishments." About the same time, she wrote that admirable little volume, "Early Lessons," a publication which has ever since been a standard work, and, though frequently imitated, yet remains unrivalled amidst all its competitors.

This little volume was written for the use of one of her nephews, who had been adopted by Mr. Barbauld and herself, in consequence of their having no child of their own. In the present day, when parents are in possession of the labors of many clever persons for aiding the task of early instruction, it is difficult to form a correct estimate of the value of Mrs. Barbauld's "Early Lessons." At the time of its first appearance, as at present, there was a multitude of books professedly written for children, but few adapted to the comprehension of a child of very tender age, that were not at the same time injurious from their folly or puerility.

It would seem that the value of a book which was not only free from these objections, but calculated to impress upon the mind of the child just ideas and noble principles, could not fail to be appreciated by every parent and teacher; but there are those who maintain that the reformation begun by Mrs. Barbauld is an evil. It would seem that, in putting "Mother Goose's Melodies," "Jack the Giant-Killer," and other works of the kind, into the hands of children, as soon as they begin to read, we are likely to distort their minds by grotesque representations, which may exert a lasting and pernicious influence on their understandings; that we set about teaching what is false, and what we must immediately seek to unteach; that we inculcate the idea upon the young mind that books are vehicles of fiction and incongruity, and not of truth and reason.

If the works alluded to produce any effects, they must be of this nature; and on some minds they have probably had a fatal influence. Yet such is the prejudice engendered by early associations, that many grave persons, whose first reading was of the kind we have mentioned, lament the repudiation of "Mother Goose" and her kindred train, and deem it a mistake to use books in their place founded on the idea of Mrs. Barbauld's works--that truth is the proper aliment of the infant mind, as well calculated to stimulate the faculties as fiction, and that its exhibition is the only safe and honest mode of dealing with those whose education is intrusted to our care.

The success of the school at Palgrave remained unimpaired; but the unceasing call for mental exertion, on the part of the conductors, which its duties required, so much injured their health, that, after eleven years of unremitting labor, an interval of complete relaxation became necessary; and Mrs. Barbauld accompanied her husband, in the autumn of 1785, to Switzerland, and afterwards to the south of France. In the following year they returned to England, and, early in 1787, took up their residence in Hampstead, where, for several years, Mr. Barbauld received a few pupils.

In 1790, Mrs. Barbauld published an eloquent and indignant address to the successful opposers of the repeal of the corporation and test acts. In the following year was written her poetical epistle to Mr. Wilberforce, on the rejection of the bill for abolishing the slave trade. In 1792, she published "Remarks on Mr. Gilbert Wakefield's Inquiry into the Expediency and Propriety of Public or Social Worship;" and in 1793, she produced a work of a kind very unusual for a female--a sermon, entitled "The Sins of Government Sins of the Nation." In all these works Mrs. Barbauld showed those powers of mind, that ardent love for civil and religious liberty, and that genuine and practical piety, by which her life was distinguished, and for which her memory will long be held in reverence. In particular, her "Remarks on Mr. Wakefield's Inquiry" may be noticed as being one of the best and most eloquent, and yet sober, appeals in favor of public worship that has ever appeared.

Our youthful readers will be pleased to learn that Mrs. Barbauld wrote some of the articles in that entertaining work by her brother, Dr. Aikin, entitled "Evenings at Home." These contributions were fourteen in number. It would be useless to distinguish them here, or to say more concerning them than that they are equal in merit to the other parts of the volumes. These papers, trifling in amount, but not in value, comprise all that Mrs. Barbauld published from 1793 to 1795, when she superintended an edition of Akenside's "Pleasures of Imagination," to which she prefixed a critical essay. In 1797, she brought out an edition of Collins's "Odes," with a similar introduction. These essays are written with elegance, and display much taste and critical acuteness.

Mr. Barbauld became, in 1802, pastor of a Unitarian congregation at Newington Green, and at this time he changed his residence to Stoke Newington. The chief inducement to this removal was the desire felt by Mrs. Barbauld and her brother to pass the remainder of their lives in each other's society. This wish was gratified during twenty years, and was interrupted only by death. In 1804, she published a selection of the papers contained in the Spectator, Guardian, Tatler and Freeholder, with a preliminary essay, in which is given an instructive account of the state of society at the time the papers originally appeared, and of the objects at which they aimed. This essay has been much admired for its elegance and acuteness. In the same year, Mrs. Barbauld prepared for publication a selection from the correspondence of Richardson, the novelist, prefixing a biographical notice of him, and a critical examination of his works.

About this time, Mrs. Barbauld's husband, to whom she had been united for more than thirty years, fell into a state of nervous weakness, and at last died, in November, 1808. From the dejection occasioned by this loss, Mrs. Barbauld sought relief in literary occupation, and undertook the task of editing a collection of the British novelists, which was published in 1810. To these volumes she contributed an introductory essay, and furnished biographical and critical notices of the life and writings of each author; these were written with her usual taste and judgment. In the next year, she composed and published the longest and most highly-finished of her poems, entitled "Eighteen Hundred and Eleven." The time at which this poem appeared was by many persons looked upon with gloomy forebodings, and the matters of which it treats were considered as indicative of the waning fortunes of Great Britain. It was perhaps owing to the spirit of melancholy prediction by which it is pervaded, that the poem was not received by the public as it deserved. It is written throughout with great power and in harmonious language; its descriptions are characterized by deep feeling and truth, and its warnings are conveyed with an earnestness which is the best evidence of the sincerity of the author.

The unfair construction applied to her motives in writing this poem probably prevented Mrs. Barbauld from appearing again as an author. Her efforts were confined to the humble task of administering to the gratification of a circle of private friends. Although arrived at years which are assigned as the natural limit of human life, her fancy was still bright, and she continued to give evidence by occasional compositions of the unimpaired energy of her mind. Her spirits were greatly tried, during the latter years of her life, by the loss of her brother, who died in 1822, and of several cherished companions of her early days, who quickly followed. Her constitution, naturally excellent, slowly gave way under an asthmatic complaint, and on the 9th of March, 1825, after only a few days of serious illness, she died, in the eighty-second year of her age.

In domestic and social life, Mrs. Barbauld was characterized by strong sense, deep feeling, high moral principle, and a rational but ardent piety. She passed through a lengthened term of years, free from the annoyance of personal enmities, and rich in the esteem and affection of all with whom she was connected. The cause of rational education is more indebted to her than to any individual of modern times, inasmuch as she was the leader in that reformation which has resulted in substituting the use of truth and reason for folly and fiction, in books for the nursery. She has also shown that a talent for writing for youth is not incompatible with powers of the highest order. Her epistle to Mr. Wilberforce is full of lofty sentiment, and, at the same time, is most felicitously executed. We give a specimen of her writing in a lighter vein, which has been justly celebrated for its truth and humor.

"WASHING-DAY.

"The muses are turned gossips; they have lost
The buskined step, and clear, high-sounding phrase,--
Language of gods. Come, then, domestic muse,
In slip-shod measure, loosely prattling on
Of farm, or orchard, pleasant curds and cream,
Or drowning flies, or shoes lost in the mire,
By little whimpering boy, with rueful face;
Come, muse, and sing the dreaded washing-day.
Ye who beneath the yoke of wedlock bend
With bowed soul, full well ye ken the day
Which week, smooth gliding after week, brings on
Too soon; for to that day nor peace belongs,
Nor comfort. Ere the first gray streak of dawn,
The red-armed washers come and chase repose;
Nor pleasant smile, nor quaint device of mirth,
E'er visited that day: the very cat,
From the wet kitchen scared, and reeking hearth,
Visits the parlor--an unwonted guest.
The silent breakfast meal is soon despatched,
Uninterrupted save by anxious looks
Cast at the lowering sky, if sky should lower.
From that last evil, O, preserve us, heavens!
For, should the skies pour down, adieu to all
Remains of quiet: then expect to hear
Of sad disasters--dirt and gravel stains
Hard to efface, and loaded lines at once
Snapped short, and linen-horse by dog thrown down,
And all the petty miseries of life.
Saints have been calm while stretched upon the rack,
And Guatimozin smiled on burning coals;
But never yet did housewife notable
Greet with a smile a rainy washing-day.
But grant the welkin fair; require not, thou
Who call'st thyself perchance the master there,
Or study swept, or nicely-dusted coat,
Or usual 'tendance; ask not, indiscreet,
Thy stockings mended, though the yawning rents
Gape wide as Erebus; nor hope to find
Some snug recess impervious! should'st thou try
Th' accustomed garden walks, thine eye shall rue
The budding fragrance of thy tender shrubs,
Myrtle or rose, all crushed beneath the weight
Of coarse checked apron, with impatient hand
Twitched off when showers impend; or crossing lines
Shall mar thy musings, as the cold, wet sheet
Flaps in thy face abrupt. Woe to the friend
Whose evil stars have urged him forth to claim,
On such a day, the hospitable rites!
Looks blank at best, and stinted courtesy,
Shall he receive. Vainly he feeds his hopes
With dinner of roast chickens, savory pie,
Or tart, or pudding: pudding he nor tart
That day shall eat; nor, though the husband try,
Mending what can't be helped, to kindle mirth
From cheer deficient, shall his consort's brow,
Clear up propitious;--the unlucky guest
In silence dines, and early shrinks away.
I well remember, when a child, the awe
This day struck into me; for then the maids--
I scarce knew why--looked cross, and drove me from them;
Nor soft caress could I obtain, nor hope
Usual indulgences--jelly or creams,
Relic of costly suppers, and set by
For me, their petted one; or buttered toast,
When butter was forbid; or thrilling tale
Of ghost, or witch, or murder: so I went
And sheltered me beside the parlor fire:
There my dear grandmother, eldest of forms,
Tended the little ones, and watched from harm,
Anxiously fond, though oft her spectacles
With elfin cunning hid, and oft the pins
Drawn from her ravelled stockings, might have soured
One less indulgent.
At intervals my mother's voice was heard,
Urging despatch: briskly the work went on,
All hands employed to wash, to rinse, to wring,
To fold, and starch, and clap, and iron, and plait.
Then would I sit me down, and ponder much
Why washings were. Sometimes through hollow bowl
Of pipe amused we blew, and sent aloft
The floating bubbles; little dreaming then
To see, Montgolfier, thy silken ball
Ride buoyant through the clouds--so near approach
The sports of children and the toils of men.
Earth, air, and sky, and ocean, hath its bubbles,
And verse is one of them--this most of all."

MADAME DE GENLIS.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The Comte de Genlis had served in the navy from the age of fourteen; he had covered himself with glory in the famous action of M. d'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 Genlis was covered with wounds, of which one remained open for eight years and a half. This combat gained him the rank of captain, and the cross of St. Louis. M. d'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 valor at Pondicherry. As soon as he returned to France, his uncle, M. de Puisieux, made him quit the navy, and enter into the land service, with the rank of colonel of grenadiers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"About this time, I published '_Adele et Theodore_.' This work at once insured the suffrages of the public, and the irreconcilable hatred of all the so-called philosophers and their partisans.

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

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