“At the first post-house we found Lord Edward Fitzgerald, whose love for Pamela made him follow us to Tournay. We had scarcely reached the place, when he asked the hand of Pamela in marriage. I showed him the papers proving her to be the daughter of a man of high birth, of the name of Seymour. After having obtained the consent of his mother, the Duchess of Leinster, to the marriage, it was concluded; and in two days the new-married couple set out for England. I felt great joy in seeing the fortunes of this beloved child so honorably secured.
“Meanwhile, three weeks had elapsed without hearing from the duke. At last news came of the horrible catastrophe of the king’s death. The Duke of Chartres, who joined us at Tournay, showed me a letter from his father, which began thus: ‘My heart is oppressed with sorrow; but, for the interests of France and of liberty, I have thought it my duty...!’ &c. My unfortunate husband wrote at the same time, and sent me copies of his opinion at the king’s trial. This was thus expressed: ‘I do not vote for death, first 210 because the king does not merit it; secondly, because we have no right to sit as his judges; and, lastly, because I consider his condemnation as the greatest political fault that can be committed.’ The letter concluded thus: ‘I am perfectly sure, then, in pronouncing this opinion, I have signed my death-warrant.’
“Seeing that Belgium was about to fall into the hands of the Austrians, and that it would be impossible for us to fly either to France or to foreign countries, I had the most anxious desire to be recalled to my country. Hence I strongly solicited my return; and I was informed, in March, 1793, that the Duke of Orleans was to obtain the recall of Mademoiselle, but that mine would be delayed. Whilst one day sitting in my room, M. Crépin, an army commissary, whom I had previously known, entered the room, and told me that the Austrians would be in Tournay the next day. Seeing my distress at this intelligence, he offered me an asylum at a farm of his near Valenciennes, so secluded that I might stay there for months in safety. I joyfully accepted his proposal, and we left Tournay in a few days. Circumstances, however, did not allow us to take advantage of this kind offer. We were surrounded by danger; troops marching in disorder, soldiers making a tumultuous noise, filled us with terror. We stopped a short time at St. Amand, where arrests were constantly made, and all proved to me that the system of proscription was established.
“Having providentially escaped from St. Amand, I immediately set off for Switzerland. After travelling seven days, we reached Schafhausen. My satisfaction on reaching a neutral territory was great. The 211 Duke of Chartres joined us here. We soon after went to Zug, and took a small house, in a secluded situation, on the banks of the lake, not far from the town. Here I wrote to the Duchess of Orleans,—for the duke was in prison,—and entreated her to send me orders respecting Mademoiselle d’Orleans as soon as possible; but I received no answer.
“We should have remained longer at Zug, but we became known, and the magistrates were reproached for having given us refuge; we were therefore obliged to consult as to our future destination. We formed a thousand romantic projects, and abandoned them as fast as made. The Duke of Chartres insisted upon continuing with us, which made it impossible for us to remain unknown. I finally determined to write to M. de Montesquiou, who lived at Bremgarten, who was himself a refugee, and possessed great influence in Switzerland. I described to him the condition of my unfortunate pupils, and begged him to allow them an asylum in the convent, near the town. M. de Montesquiou wrote me a most polite and obliging answer, and took upon himself to get Mademoiselle d’Orleans and myself into this convent, called St. Claire. The Duke of Chartres resolved to make a pedestrian tour through Switzerland, where he was taken for a German. How often, since my misfortunes, have I congratulated myself on the education I had given him,—on the languages I had taught him,—on having accustomed him to despise effeminacy, and habituate himself to fatigue! All that he was indebted for to the chance of birth and fortune he had lost; and nothing 212 now remained to him but what he held from nature and from me.[5]
“We entered the convent under feigned names. Mine was Madame Lenox, aunt of Mademoiselle 213 Stuart, my sister’s daughter. The duke then left us, and, after his journey through Switzerland, he entered the college of the Grisons incognito, as professor of mathematics. In this quiet of the convent, the health of Mademoiselle was nearly restored. While here came news of a horrid catastrophe, on November 9th, 1793, and I became ill.... I concealed from Mademoiselle the death of her unfortunate father, but dressed her in mourning, as if for the queen of France.[6]
“About this time, a violent dispute arose between the inhabitants of Bremgarten: two parties were formed, and an order was obtained, by people hostile to M. de Montesquiou, that all the French should leave the place. Hearing that the Princess of Conti, the aunt of Mademoiselle d’Orleans, was residing in Switzerland, Mademoiselle, at my urgent request, wrote to her to ask permission to join her. She received a very kind letter, saying that the princess would receive her niece. On the day before the carriage was sent to take her 214 from me, my emotion was excessive. I determined to spare both of us the pain of this cruel separation. I accordingly shut myself in my room, at the arrival of the Countess de Pont, who was to take away my interesting charge, telling the servant to say that I had gone to some distance.
“As the moment arrived for the departure, Mademoiselle d’Orleans came along my passage, and stopped before the door. I heard her sighs and lamentations.... I heard the carriage roll away; and one must feel a mother’s love, to conceive the emotions that overpowered me. I heard from her the next day, and I also wrote her my last letter of advice. Her departure rendered the spot she had left completely hateful to me, and I most anxiously wished to leave the place. I had, besides, been cruelly persecuted since my residence there. I was often attacked in the most absurd manner in the newspapers. One of them stated that I, loaded with favors by the court of France, had been concerned in all the intrigues of the revolution. Not knowing how to get passports I at last thought of writing to Dr. Hoze, a skilful physician, who lived at Bremgarten. He kindly sent me both passports and a servant to accompany me. I departed, promising the nuns to return and spend the remainder of my life with them. We travelled night and day, till we arrived at Utrecht. From this place, I got into a wretched post-wagon, with a man who was going to Hamburg. We reached that place July 23d, 1794. Hearing of an inn kept by a person of the name of Plock, I went there, and had the fortune not to meet with any emigrants. Here I staid nine months, in 215 complete incognito, and in very agreeable society. It was here that I enjoyed the first consolation I received since my misfortunes—here that I learned several most important events—the fall of Robespierre, and the peace concluded with Russia.
“I now went to board with M. de Valence at his country-house, five leagues from Hamburg. At this place I wrote my ‘Précis de Conduite,’ which produced such a powerful effect in my favor. I soon left for Berlin, in Prussia. I took lodgings with Mademoiselle Bocquet, who kept a boarding-school. Here I made several charming acquaintances; but my cruel fortunes still triumphed. I was informed that great exertions were making to get me out of the kingdom. It had been rumored that the Abbé Sièyes, whom I had never even seen, had made me a visit. The king said he ‘would not banish me from his library, but that he would not allow me to remain in his territories.’ Accordingly a police officer came with an order for me to leave the kingdom in two hours. This was a real thunderbolt. Leaving all my effects behind me, I got into a carriage and drove away. We were obliged to travel to the frontiers without stopping, except for meals. Three weeks after I reached Hamburg, I received my baggage and manuscripts from Berlin. During my stay here, I saw Pamela and her husband. I soon perceived that Lord Edward had imbibed opinions dangerous to his own government, and feared that he was about to engage in some desperate enterprise.
“I now went to Holstein, and took up my abode with M. Peterson, in a delightful thatched cottage. The 216 family was charming, and the rural style of living just what I liked. I assisted in churning the butter, and fed on the most delicious red partridges. I here performed a literary labor that greatly fatigued me. In the morning, I wrote the ‘Petits Emigrés,’ and in the evening, I occupied myself with the ‘Vœux Téméraires.’ Beside this, I wrote all the fables of ‘Herbier Moral.’