MEMOIRS OF THE MARQUISE DE FALAISEA.U.* M. DE BROC'S interesting
volumes describing the state of France before and during the Revolution, were reviewed in the Spectator two years ago. He has now compiled from family papers, from Madame de Falaiseau's own journals and those of her friends, and from letters of the time, this pathetic story of the sufferings of a family during the emigration.
A good deal of blame, as well as of sympathy, has been bestowed upon the emigrants, and no doubt in many oases their conduct could not be called patriotic. Neither was it politic or wise, looking at it from one point of view, for it was in many instances the cause of the final loss of fortunes and estates which might have been preserved by a little courageous patience. And nobody who has studied it can admire the picture, even when painted by kind hands, of the emigrant army and Court of the Princes, to which so many, however, were attracted purely by a sense of honour and loyalty to the King. The armed emigration, the Court at Coblentz, shows the movement on a selfish and frivolous side which repels sympathy.
• Dix Ass do la Vie Wens Fommo pendant L'Emigration Ade!ai;de d. Heijecan, If arquiso de Fata:scau d'aprJs des lottres in Mites at des s(alrenirs de tatnille. Par Is Vicomte do 13toc. ro t■ nit on heliogravure. Paris : E. Pion. Nourrit, at Oio. But there is, as every one knows, quite another side to the story. The emigrants were not all selfish and frivolous, and they did not all leave their country from a lack of patriotism, or turn their arms against her with a light heart. And when we know that even those most subject to illusions had bitterly to expiate them, we may well pity those who left France unwillingly and with their eyes open, driven by absolute dan- ger to life into an exile which was nothing but misery. And in most cases this undeserved misery was borne with a heroism, a cheerfulness, which showed the sufferers to be of the same race as those who in the same years walked so calmly up the steps of the guillotine. M. de Broc observes that we here see French society regenerated by hard labour and suffering ; and he is no doubt right as to the great majority. Some of the emigrants, being heartless and foolish, were heartless and foolish still. Many more rose to the height of their martyr- dom; and it is as well to realise what that meant, especially, -as M. de Broc adds, in days like these, when the worship of money seems to be taking the place of any higher devotion. But character must always have its influence. Madame de Falaiseau was naturally a noble-hearted woman, and would have remained so in any position. It is gold that here passes through the fire ; and thus, though the interest of the book smnst be deeply painful, it possesses an ideal beauty which eaves it from the hopeless sadness of many such histories.
M. de Kerjean, the father of Madame de Falaiseau, was a nephew of the celebrated Dupleix, and shared for some time un his uncle's Indian glories and vast ambitions, as well as in the deep disappointments which clouded the end of his life. He married a Portuguese, Mademoiselle de Carvallo, and died in India, where he had returned to attempt the recovery -of some of his uncle's fortune, leaving two daughters and a son. Madame de Kerjean was a stern, imperious person, 'who brought up her children strictly. Her eldest daughter, Josephine, who appears in these Memoirs full of spirit and fearless energy, was married at eighteen to M. du .Camper, a Breton naval officer, who died, leaving her with two boys, in 1777. It was not till 1787 that Adelaide married the Marquis de Falaiseau, so that the happiness of her married life, which appears to have been very real, was soon interrupted by the Revolution. Its first storms, how- ever, passed harmlessly over the heads of this family, who lived a quiet yet cheerful life, either at their cheteaux of La Revaudiere and Escrignelles, or in Paris near Madame de Kerjean, who set herself violently against, all idea of emi. gration, and lived safely in Paris, it seems, through all the horrors of the succeeding years. At La Revaudiere all went -happily till 1791, when a rising in the country made it unsafe to remain there. M. de Falaiseau first took his wife and child to Paris, and then, persuaded by his friends, hopeful for the future, expecting nothing but a short absence and a happy return when the nation should have come to its senses, he followed the example of crowds and crossed the frontier to Tourney, where his first sight of the small army of the Princes -seems to have been disenchanting. His wife with her little toy, Madame du Camper and her son, and two or three 'faithful servants, followed him two months later. Then began a sad winter of disillusion and hope deferred. M. da Falaiseau had little in common with the spirit which ruled the counsels of the Princes, and he may have regretted the step he had taken, when the sequestration of all his pos- -sessions in France showed too plainly that it could not be retraced. He paid one dangerous visit to Paris, which only -convinced him of the hopeless position of the emigrants. But the question of honour, as well as of safety, prevented any change of plan, and the next few months were spent by ihim with the army, while his wife—her sister had returned to her mother in Paris—moved about in a rather desolate -fashion from one small Court to another, well received, but feeling like an exile, and finding herself out of tune with much of the gaiety in which she was expected to take her share. Her account of these experiences, however, is delightful to read, and full of charming touches. The same may be said of the contemporary letters of Madame du Camper, who had returned to France, and was frequently in great danger. Madame de Falaiseau's real sufferings began with the year 1793. Beaten, disappointed, the crowd of emigrants was now scattered hopeless in different parts of Europe. Politically, they bad no more to hope, and wherever they might take refuge they were only tolerated by compassion, while the fear of the French armies caused them to be driven from one place to another. Madame de Falaiseau opens her Journal of 1793 in a miserable inn at Rotterdam, where she and her whole family and servants were crowded into one wretched room, and charged for it exorbitantly. This state of things was far exceeded in discomfort by the passage to England which soon followed, during which a hundred emigrants slept in a tiny space on planks covered with straw. There is a satisfac- tion in following these unfortunate people to a country where they were kindly and generously received. The account of their arrival in London is very amusing, and for a short time we leave Madame de Falaiseau safe in Portland Place with an aunt who had married an Englishman, Mr. Floyer. She was there soon rejoined by Madame du Camper, who had gone through extraordinary adventures in escaping from Paris. Then why, we ask ourselves, could not this unhappy family remain in the hospitable quarters they had reached with so much difficulty? France still attracted them irre- sistibly; their hopes were eternal ; they still, it seems, had an idea of recovering their estates for their children, of obtaining a certificate of residence and being struck off from the fatal list of emigres, and they were ready to try for these objects at the imminent risk of their lives. It is true that much could be done by bribery in softening the hearts of the Revolutionary tribunals. This feature of the times has not received all the study it deserves.
After a painful stay of a few months in hiding at Abbeville, during which they were in the dangerous company of the wild young Prince de Talmont, M. de Falaiseau persuaded his wife to leave France once more, while he remained a little longer in hopes of the success that never came. Madame de Falaiseau escaped across the frontier disguised as a peasant. Her account of the adventure is vivid and interesting to the last degree ; and the experience was repeated a short time after. wards, for she very rashly rejoined her husband at Lille in the same disguise, having placed her children in safety. Finally, she crossed the frontier once more in a peasant's cart, and reached Brussels and her children safely. The next few months were spent miserably at Brussels and the Hague, while the Terror ran its course in France, and every day brought news of the death of friends. Madame du Camper escaped narrowly by the devotion of a M. Leger, who per. suaded her to call herself his wife ; she afterwards, from grati- tude, married him in reality, and lived with him happily for years. Many such romances could be written of the Terror. After some time, M. de Falaiseau rejoined his wife at the Hague, and their life there, though one of deep poverty and trouble, was brightened by the companionship of friends in the same case. There is nothing more interesting, more striking and characteristic, in these memoirs than Madame de Falaiseau's account of her daily life under such circum- stances. But Holland soon became a more and more danger. ous and inhospitable refuge for the poor emigres. In the severest depth of winter they went to Amsterdam, in the hope of escaping to England, HE re, however, Madame de Falaiseau was obliged to remain for many terrible weeks, hidden in a miserable room in the house of some hard-hearted Dutch people, expecting the birth of her third child. The Princesse de Berghes, in the same position, occupied another room in the same house. Amsterdam was taken by the French ; and though the Terror was over, it was dangerous for the emigres to show themselves in the streets ; they would have been immediately made prisoners. Perhaps this time at Amsterdam was the most agonising trial that Madame de Falaiseau ever went through ; but it is plain, from the simple and touching words of the Journal, that her courage never gave way ; she was ready to laugh at Dutch greediuesses and absurdities, and to make light of personal discomforts and sufferings of which in earlier days she had certainly never dreamed. At last she was able to rejoin her husband at Hamburg; and the child born on a mattress in a cellar lived to be one of the greatest comforts of her mother's life. The husband and wife returned in time to France, and were able to recover some small part of their fortune, and to live very quietly in Paris till the times improved and M.. de Falaiseau was able to find employment. M. de Broc tells a touching story of the old gardener at La Revaudiere, who had heard of the return of the emigres, but knew not where to find his master. With 800 fr. in his pocket, belonging to the Marquis, he travelled to Paris on foot, and stationed himself on the Pont Royal. Waiting there, he asked every passer-by the same question : " Avez-vous vu M. de Falaiseau, mon maitre P " Every one said " No ; " and most people laughed at him. The faithful old man remained at his post for two days, steadily asking the same question. On the third day his reward came ; M. de Falaiseau himself appeared on the bridge. We can well believe that " ce ne fut pas sans 4motion que le paysan et I'dmigrd s'aborderent dans la capitale cii, aprCs des anndes si malheureuses et si troubles, us semblaient donn4 rendez-vous."
In addition to their other troubles, M. and Madame de Falaiseau lost their eldest son Alexis at the age of thirteen. But in 1802 their youngest daughter Jenny was born, and it was only in 1890 that she died, having spent a noble and peaceful old age at the beautiful chaleau where these family papers are preserved, and where the name of her mother, Madame de Falaiseau, is honoured as that of a saint. She did not live to be an old woman ; few constitutions could have borne the strain of all that she went through. She died in 1812, as fearlessly as she had lived. Her Memoirs show her to have been a brave and loving woman, possessing all the grace and charm of that old society which died with the eighteenth century ; and also the high tone, both in morals and religion, which it too often wanted. We hardly need, it is true, M. de Broc's assurance that in these ways she was not singular among the women of her time; many beautiful memoirs exist to teach us that ; but she is certainly a noble example, and to read her Journals without interest and ad- miration is impossible.
Previous page
