In the “Memoirs of Louis XVIII,” he remarks, after the dismissal of Necker: “A report was spread that the Queen and the Comte d’Artois had given orders for a general massacre, to include the Duke of Orléans, M. Necker, and most of the members of the National Assembly. Sillery, Latouche, Laclos, Voidel, Ducrest, [123] Camille Desmoulin, and all those who came from the Duc d’Orléans, were the first to spread these lies.” [124]
After her proceedings at the Bastille and the Cordeliers, and considering her connection with the revolutionary party, Mme. de Genlis (or Sillery, as she was also called) need not have expressed the surprise and indignation she did at the arrival of a body of police to search her house for arms, reported to be stored there. They were sent by La Fayette, who had done even more mischief than she had; but for some reason they did not like each other. The touchy, conceited Republican poet, Marie Joseph Chénier, who ranted against religion, royalty, and everything and everybody superior to himself, began to make love to Mme. de Genlis, and when she objected to his impertinent familiarity, said furiously: “You are right; I am neither a grand seigneur nor a duke!”—which specimen of the manners of her party disgusted her extremely. In her “Mémoires” she relates of this worthy that he was accused of having participated in the condemnation of his brother André, also a poet, executed under the Terror. This was, however, almost certainly untrue, but it was said that he could have saved him if he had made use of the influence he possessed with the Terrorists, but that he either feared or did not care to do so. The celebrated actress, Mlle. Dumesnil, then old and infirm, received one day a visit from him, during which he tormented her to recite something for him. She was ill in bed, but nevertheless he went on begging that she would recite only one line that he might say he had heard her, when, turning towards him with a violent effort she said—
“Approchez-vous, Néron, et prenez votre place!”
The first personal encounter of Mme. de Genlis with the Revolution was one afternoon in 1790. She had driven with Mademoiselle d’Orléans, the Comte de Beaujolais, Henriette de Sercey, and Pamela, to a village about twelve miles from Paris, where, unluckily, a fair was going on and a great many people collected together. They took it into their heads that the party were the Queen, Madame Royale, and the Dauphin trying to escape, and, surrounding them with anger, forced them to get out of the carriage and refused to believe their explanations.
A young lieutenant of the Garde-Nationale hurried up, harangued them, and with difficulty persuaded the savage crowd to allow him to take them into his own house, around which a drunken, furious crowd kept guard while cries of “A la lanterne!” were every now and then heard. They would not believe anything they said; they threatened to hang any one who should go to Paris to make inquiries; they forced their way into the house and garden, but suddenly a friendly voice said in the ear of Mme. de Genlis: “I was a gamekeeper at Sillery; don’t be afraid. I will go to Paris.” At last the crowd of ruffians dispersed, leaving a dozen to guard their prisoners; the mayor of the village gravely demanded that all her papers should be delivered to him, upon which Mme. de Genlis gave him four or five letters, and when she begged him to read them he replied that he could not read, but took them away.
At five o’clock in the morning the gamekeeper came back from Paris with an order of release from the municipality, and at half-past six they arrived at Belle Chasse.
This foretaste of the Revolution Mme. de Genlis did not like at all, and she began to think she would rather not be in France now that the plans and friends so lately her admiration were succeeding so well.
Just then her mother died after a short illness, which was a great shock to her; she had lived with or near her for many years since the death of her second husband, and had been the object of her devoted care.
But now at last an end had come to the Palais Royal life of prosperity and power.