(TO BE CONTINUED.)
MADAME DE GENLIS AND MADAME DE STAËL.[7]
Before the Revolution, I was but very slightly acquainted with Madame de Genlis, her conduct during that disastrous period having not a little contributed to sink her in my estimation; and the publication of her novel, "The Knights of the Swan" (the first edition), completed my dislike to a person who had so cruelly aspersed the character of the queen, my sister in-law.
On my return to France, I received a letter full of the most passionate expressions of loyalty from beginning to end; the missive being signed Comtesse de Genlis: but imagining this could be but a plaisanterie of some intimate friend of my own, I paid no attention whatever to it. However, in two or three days it was followed by a second epistle, complaining of my silence, and appealing to the great sacrifices the writer had made in the interest of my cause, as giving her a right to my favorable attention. Talleyrand being present, I asked him if he could explain this enigma.
"Nothing is easier," replied he; "Madame de Genlis is unique. She has lost her own memory, and fancies others have experienced a similar bereavement."
"She speaks," pursued I, "of her virtues, her misfortunes, and Napoleon's persecutions."
"Hem! In 1789 her husband was quite ruined, so the events of that period took nothing from him; and as to the tyranny of Bonaparte, it consisted, in the first place, of giving her a magnificent suite of apartments in the Arsenal; and in the second place, granting her a pension of six thousand francs a year, upon the sole condition of her keeping him every month au courant of the literature of the day."
"What shocking ferocity!" replied I, laughing; "a case of infamous despotism indeed. And this martyr to our cause asks to see me!"
"Yes; and pray let your royal highness grant her an audience, were it only for once: I assure you she is most amusing."