Marguerite Jeanne de Launay, Baronne de Staal, was born in
Paris on May 30, 1684. Her father was a painter of the name of
Cordier who was in England when his daughter was born; and the
name by which she was known, de Launay, was that of her
mother's family. Her story is told by herself, with admirable
sincerity, in these Memoirs, which follow her life until the
year 1735, when, at the age of fifty-one, she married Baron de
Staal, a widower and an officer in the Guard. Her death took
place in Paris on June 16, 1750. Her Memoirs, first published
in 1755, are among the most interesting records of that
period, and though their historical accuracy has been doubted,
her portraits of persons are vivid and convincing. Her style
has been highly commended by Sainte-Beuve and other French
literary critics.
_A Convent Child_
If I write the record of my life, it is not because it deserves
attention, but in order to amuse myself by my recollections. My story is
just the opposite of the ordinary romance, wherein a girl brought up as
a peasant becomes an illustrious princess; for I was treated in
childhood as a person of distinction, and had to find out later that I
was a nobody and owned nothing in the world. And so, not having been
trained from the first to ill fortune, my spirit has always rebelled
against the servitude in which I have had to live.
My father, for some reason that I never knew, had to leave France and
live in England; and my mother, alone in Paris and without resources,
took me with her as an infant to find a refuge in the abbey of
Saint-Sauveur d'Evreux in Normandy, where Madame de La Rochefoucauld,
the abbess, received us free of charge.
There was at that time a lengthy disagreement between King Louis XIV.
and the Pope with regard to the nomination of abbesses, in consequence
of which two ladies Mesdames de Grieu, having been disappointed of an
expected establishment, retired to Saint-Sauveur, where they formed a
great friendship with my mother, and became devoted to her two-year-old
child. I was naturally very popular in the convent, and having a bright
disposition I was educated with the utmost care.
Chiefly with a view to giving me greater advantage, the elder Madame de
Grieu sought and at length obtained the Priory of Saint-Louis at Rouen,
and took me thither with the consent of my mother. Saint-Louis was like
a little kingdom, where I reigned as a sovereign; the abbess and her
sister had no thought but to satisfy my every fancy, and the whole
convent was forced to pay court to me. All that was done for me cost me
so little that it seemed a matter of course that I should be flattered
and served, and at an early age I had contracted all the defects which I
have since had to allow for in the great.
This extreme indulgence would have turned my defects into vices, if
devotion had not ruled my passions from the first. Religion was the one
great object before my eyes; I had been well instructed in it; I read
continually the devotional books in the convent library, and passed much
of my time in prayer and meditation. Yet my early desire to become a nun
passed gradually away, until I thought of it no more.
Mademoiselle de Silly, an amiable and cultivated young lady whose
actions were ruled by principles rather than by feelings, came to live
at Saint-Louis, and I was soon attached to her with all the ardour of a
girl's affection; her tastes became mine, and I used to read all day
beside her. She was then studying the philosophy of Descartes, and I
became absorbed in questions of that kind to the neglect of everything
else, until, fearing lest they might disturb my faith, I resolutely
banished them from my mind.
I was about fourteen years old when the convent of Saint-Louis fell into
great poverty owing to a famine which was desolating France, and the
disaffection of the nuns was centred on me as a chief cause of
unnecessary expense. Their complaints came to the archbishop of Rouen,
and abbess had difficulty in keeping me with her. My helpless condition
began to force itself on my attention; and I realised that if the abbess
were to die I was alone and without support in the world.
An unexpected event now drew me closer to Mademoiselle de Silly. Her
mother, having come to Rouen, took her home to Silly, and invited me to
accompany her. I accepted joyfully, and spent several months in the
solitary and melancholy old castle. The Marquis was extremely
economical, the Marquise very devout, and we saw few people. One visitor
from the neighborhood, however, attracted me strongly; and as he came
often and stayed long, my friend and I agreed that one of us had pleased
him. When he had declared his affection, and it was not for me, I
learned what jealousy is--a kind of horror like that of falling down
through a fathomless abyss.
During the next visit to Silly in the following year the son of the
house arrived, and at first kept very much to himself and to his books.
But having heard his sister and myself complaining of these unsociable
ways, he frankly confessed his fault and amended it, and from that day
we spent every hour together. His mind and his manner was infinitely
agreeable; and in my successive visits to Silly we formed a delightful
friendship which was never interrupted by more ardent feelings.
_Thrown on the World_
At length my dear abbess fell so dangerously ill that I saw I was about
to lose her; and I became desolately aware that I owed her all, and that
her death would not only leave me absolutely helpless, but would also
deprive me of my best friend. I never knew anyone else so abundant in
goodness, with so much sweetness, attention for others and forgetfulness
of self, nor with such exact regard for every duty. Her death came soon,
and it was evident that neither her sister nor I could remain at the
convent. Several generous helpers came forward with offers of support,
but in my uncertain position I judged it better to refuse them all. I
was resolved to suffer any misery and servitude rather than sacrifice my
independence, and only accepted a small loan sufficient to take me to
Paris.
I was soon in the great city, looking out for a situation as children's
governess; fortunately, I had a taste for that occupation, and imagined
that taste for it meant talent. I had a sister, in the household of the
Duchess de La Ferté, and found her very amiable and helpful. With her
assistance I went to board at a cheap rate in the convent of the
Presentation, and she succeeded in inspiring her mistress with so
elevated an idea of my attainments that the Duchess soon afterwards sent
for me. After showing me off as a prodigy of learning to all her
friends, the Duchess de La Ferté, a voluble and enthusiastic woman,
conceived a violent affection for me, and projected innumerable schemes
for my advancement, which ended in my being received into her own
household as her secretary.
I should have been delighted with this position if I had not remembered
how my sister, who had gone there as her favourite, had fallen to the
situation of chambermaid, and if I had not realised that my mistress's
affection would probably be as short-lived as it was intemperate. It
proved to be so indeed; it was succeeded by a hatred as violent as her
attachment had been; and after subjecting me to every indignity she
finally disposed of me by placing me in the household of the Duchess of
Maine, at Sceaux.
Here I inhabited a tiny room, without windows or fireplace, and so low
that it was impossible to stand upright. I was given sewing to do, but
my first piece of work proved my incapacity, and my extremely
short-sight made me equally helpless in waiting on the Duchess. I was
astonished at the patience with which she bore my awkwardness, but my
fellow-servants, with whom I was most unpopular, were less merciful. The
hard and thankless existence, so different from anything which I had
been accustomed, threw me into a profound depression, until I began to
cherish the idea of taking leave of life.
But gradually my situation altered for the better. Her Serene Highness
the Duchess began to take notice of me, and became accustomed to speak
to me and to take interest and pleasure in my replies. She had now
succeeded in raising her family to rank equal to her own, and by a
famous edict her children and their descendants had been brought within
the succession to the crown. Her delight in amusements and in pageants
was now at its highest, and it happened that the Abbé de Vaubrun,
designing a spectacular piece in honor of Night, confided to me the task
of writing and delivering an epilogue in that character. My stage-fright
spoiled my elocution, but from that day I was entrusted with the
organisation of these magnificent entertainments, and the last of them
was entirely designed and written by myself. By this means I came to
take a quite different place in the household.
_Political Intrigues_
King Louis XIV. had been failing for some time, though every one
pretended not to notice it; and the Duchess of Maine, ever anxious for
the greatness of her family, was very eager to know his testamentary
intentions. Enough was ascertained, by the help of Madame de Maintenon,
to show that the King's dispositions were in favour of the Duke of
Orleans, and the mistake was made of confiding to the Duke his future
advantage. As the illness progressed, a council of regency was formed
with the Duke of Orleans at its head, and when the King died the Duke
was appointed Regent by Parliament, and the Duke of Maine was entrusted
with the education of the young King.
The Duchess of Maine, who had come up to Paris for this anxious time,
suffered a good deal from insomnia, and now called me in to read to her
every night. But there was more conversation than reading, and she
poured out to me in entire confidence all her secrets, projects,
complaints and regrets. This touching confidence made me very deeply
attached to her; and when she and her husband removed to the Tuilleries
to superintend the King's education, they took me with them.
In defence of the interests of her family in the succession to the
Crown, which were threatened by the Duke of Orleans, Cardinal Polignac
and others undertook the preparation of a very learned memoir, based on
a great mass of historical and legal precedents; the Duchess threw
herself into the most laborious researches to assist them, and I was set
to study ancient volumes and to correspond with all kinds of
authorities. The great work was finished at last; it was a fine,
well-written production; but it did not repay the trouble it had cost.
The question was decided against the family of Maine, the edict
conferring on them the succession to the Crown was revoked, and the rank
of princes of the blood was taken from them.
It is impossible to describe the sorrow of my mistress at this sudden
overthrow of the fortunes of her family. She was wholly unable to
acquiesce in it, and her illtreatment in France suggested to her the
idea of seeking help from the King of Spain. The Baron de Walef, who was
going to that court, undertook to represent her case there, and the
Duchess of Maine held secret interviews with the Spanish ambassador in
Paris. Several other persons became implicated in these intrigues; the
Duchess became more deeply compromised than she had at first intended;
and her interests became interwoven with other chimerical projects,
including the restoration of the Pretender in England. These movements
became known to the Duke of Orleans, and my mistress's intrigues were
soon brought to an end.
On December 9, 1718, we were informed that the house of the Spanish
Ambassador was surrounded by troops, and a day or two later we learned
that our arrest, on the charge of inciting to revolution, might be
expected at any moment. On the 29th, we were awakened early in the
morning to find the house full of soldiers; the Duchess was carried off
to imprisonment at Dijon, and the Duke of Maine was immured in the
citadel of Dourlans in Picardy.
_In the Bastille_
I was taken in a carriage with three musketeers, to a little bridge
before a wall, and delivered to the governor of the Bastille, who sent
me to a large empty room, the walls of which were covered with charcoal
drawings executed by former prisoners. A little chair was brought me, a
bundle of wood was lighted on the hearth, one small candle was fixed to
the wall, and I heard half a dozen locks and bolts closing the door that
shut me off from mankind. The first hour, which I spent gazing at my
crackling fire, was the most desolate of all my imprisonment.
Then the governor appeared, with my attendant Mademoiselle Rondel; I was
rejoiced to find that she was to relieve my solitude, and to hear from
her that she had managed to hide all my papers after my capture. Our
room was presently furnished with beds, table and chairs; on the
following day we were given books and a pack of cards; our meals were
tolerable, and except for our captivity we were comfortable enough.
The two judges charged with the interrogation of the prisoners in our
affair, of whom there seemed to be a considerable number, came daily,
and held their interviews in a room immediately below ours; so that
Rondel could see through the window one of our acquaintances after
another being brought across the court to be examined. My time did not
come for many days, and I spent long hours racking my brain for the
answers which I ought to give. The fear of the questions by torture
began to force itself on my mind; and though I thought I could face pain
or even death I was doubtful whether I should be able to keep silence
under that dreadful ordeal.
After these weeks of suspense I was called before the judges, and was
asked whether the Duchess of Maine had not great confidence in me and
whether I had not been aware of her treasonable correspondence and
intrigues. The line I took was to represent my services to my mistress
as having been of a very humble nature; I insisted that I knew nothing
of her private affairs, and had seen and heard nothing that could at all
compromise her loyalty to the Government. This appeared to satisfy them
for the present, and after enquiring whether I was well treated in
prison they dismissed me.
I did not suffer from ennui in the Bastille; I devised for myself many
little occupations; and soon a surreptitious correspondence with the
Chevalier de Menil, who had been imprisoned for participation in our
affair, gave interest to the days. We were even permitted occasional
interviews by favour of one of the subordinate officials, and before we
regained our liberty I had promised to be his wife.
The Regent at last became anxious to bring to an end the whole episode
of the Duchess of Maine's intrigue; but he wished first to secure a full
admission of guilt from the principal actors in it. The Duchess was
promised her complete liberty if she would send him a frank confession
in writing, which should be seen by no one but himself. Finding herself
in a position to secure the freedom of all those whom she had
imperilled, she sent the Duke of Orleans the required paper, in which
she disclosed everything in detail and with entire sincerity.
I was examined again without making any disclosure, but after receiving
the written command of the Duchess I wrote out a declaration of all that
I knew and was a few days later set at liberty, after two years of
captivity. I went down at once to Sceaux, where I was affectionately
received by my mistress.
Returning to Paris two days later, to fetch my things from the Bastille,
I called at the Convent of the Presentation, and found in the parlour
the Chevalier de Menil. I was astonished at his manner, no less than by
what he said; it was evidently that his only desire was to break his
engagement with me. I realised that the man was without honour or
kindness, and yet it was difficult to detach my affections from him.
It was about a year later that M. Dacier was introduced to me, after the
death of his wife, by the Duchess de La Ferté, and an ardent desire for
liberty from my condition of servitude led me to accept his proposal of
marriage, subject only to be the permission of my Duchess. This she was
reluctant to give, and the matter was still under discussion when we
heard of M. Dacier's sudden death.
The rest of my life, though it has been a long one, contains little of
interest. I found myself without any object to live for, and a strange
deadness of feeling came over me, harder to bear than illness or death.
I had a distaste for existence and a horror of the world, and desired
nothing more than to hide myself away. A little pension had been secured
for me; my mistress had fallen dangerously ill; I wished to leave Sceaux
in order to run away from a new attachment which was gaining power over
me; and the thought of entering a Carmelite house became a settled
project. But I was refused even this last refuge; the prioress deciding
that I had no vocation for the religious life.
I spent several years without coming to any harmony either with myself
or with fortune. Several offers of marriage were made to me, but I could
not bring myself to accept any of them, until a sudden fancy for the
sweet simplicities of country life led me to agree to a marriage with M.
de Staal.
A few days after my marriage I heard of the death of the Duchess of
Maine. I never knew a more perfectly reasonable woman. She was all
feeling; even her thoughts were really sentiments; she was lively
without moodiness, impassioned without violence, always animated; sweet
and sensible. There was a vivid warmth about her, that made her a
perfectly gracious friend.
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