Class ^ 
 Book_ 
 
 '\ ]Q If 6 
 
 ^>S 
 
 » h 
 
/ -' ^ 
 
 INTERESTING ANECDOTES 
 
 OF THE 
 
 HEROIC CONDUCT 
 
 OF 
 
 WOMEN,. 
 
 PREVIOUS TOj AND DURING THE FRENCH 
 REVOLUTION, 
 
 '^7 i:!i,LAl'ED FROM fHE FRE27CH OF 31, til? 55"?^.^!- AND 
 QI'IIEII TVRl'i'ERS OF AUTh'ENTlCjrr, 
 
 7)' 
 
 FIRST AMEPaCAN EDITION, 
 
 ENLAllGED NEARLY ONE HALF BY ADDITI0K3 TC 
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 BALTIMORE^ J . *' 
 
 JNTED FOR SAMUEL BUTLER, 184, market 
 
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 By Fryer is" Clark, Market-spacsr;'-^ 
 
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ADVERTISEMENT, 
 
 -,'.;- ^ -v'.^ 
 
 i 1 HE following Anecdotes are offered to the 
 \ English Reader^ with pleasure and confidence , by 
 the Translator : the passions they exhibit interest 
 equaVy the rudest savage and man in the most de- 
 pra'ued state of artificial manners, Eveft the worst 
 of meUy while their hearts have swelled with the 
 storm of the blackest passions, have relented on be^ 
 holding the genuine form of the noble -passions which 
 are the Subjed of this Work, almost incredible in^' 
 stances of which will be found in the following 
 pages- 
 
 The greater part of these Anecdotes are new to 
 the world, having been rescued from oblivion by the 
 generous assiduity of the Writers of this Work '^ and 
 such as are well known are related with new and 
 authentic circumstances, that give even to these an 
 air of novelty. 
 
 The Author has classed his Fads according to 
 the species of moral excellence that charaBerise$ 
 ihem ; and the Translator has thought it best to 
 preserve that order, as it respefls those charaders 
 who lived during the Revolutions 
 
mTERESTING AnBCDOTES, 
 
 CHAP I. 
 
 MATEPvNAL AFFECTION., 
 
 HlE instances we shall give of the sacrifi- 
 ces made by maternal aiFection. art not 
 numerous. To relate the various faces of that 
 nature with the care their merit deserves, it 
 Would be necessary to Tisit the multitude of 
 families that were victims of the dreadful con.» 
 ilicts of parties in France/ in which would be 
 found mothers wasting the sad remains of life 
 over the cruel recollection of children torn 
 from them for ever; it would be necessary to 
 attend to the recital of -past dangers by chil- 
 dren, saved by the enterprises of their mothers 
 from an untimely fa te| it would be necessary 
 to run through every city of France. But it 
 is even nw too late to finish the imeresiiiig 
 
 B 
 
you to respect his situation, and to forbear to 
 disturb his repose.'^ 
 
 " Most willingly/' replied the chief of the 
 party, " on condition that you tell u» who ths 
 young man is.'' 
 
 *^ My own son/^ 
 
 Unhappily the mother pronounced these 
 last words with a tone so tremulous, and an 
 air of such embarrassment, that the suspicions 
 of the rebels were excited, and their chief in- 
 stantly ordered her to quit the carriage on pain 
 of bsing shot together with the young man for 
 whose safety she was so anxious. 
 
 The menace restored this generous woman 
 to all her courage. She covered her son with 
 her body, and calmly counted the number of 
 
 the enemy. 
 
 "They are but nine," she cried to her 
 faithful domestic, who was in the carriage 
 with her. •' Let us ddend ourselves." 
 
 While she said this, she began a combat too 
 unequal to promise her any success. Her 
 
steady Kaird lakl two men in the dust ; but aH 
 most instantly her faithful domestic was killed 
 by her side, the horses and the postillion were, 
 shot, and in another moment her. son danger- 
 ously wounded on the head. 
 
 The mother now furious while she sav^her-- 
 son bleeding, seized upon his sabre which was 
 beside hira, sprang from the carriage, and with 
 a cry of despair threw herself among the as- 
 sailants. She was surrounded by the rebels^. 
 di^3rmed5.and tied to a tree. The party then > 
 tore the son from the carriage, dragged him to ■ 
 a spot near his mother, and prepared 40- shoot; 
 him before her eyes. 
 
 Enraged with the resistance of the mother^ . 
 they resolved to encrease her torture by 
 lengthening out the spectacle of her son's 
 Nvjretched situation, extended as he was in ther 
 dust, and weltering in. his blood ^, and forcun-- 
 ately, this resolution saved both the mother - 
 and son. The. report of, muskets had beei?, ? 
 heard at the nearest post of the republican at% 
 itiy, from which a detachment of fifty horjc 
 instantly proceeded to the spot. The cries of : 
 
the unfortunate "woman were scon heard by 
 this detachmeiil:, who burst in among the re- 
 bels at full gallop, and so completely surprised 
 them as to put them to the sword with little 
 resistance. 
 
 The violent and sudden change m her for- 
 tune overcame the mother, and she was sense- 
 less when she was approached by her own 
 party. She was taken from the tree by the 
 orders of the commanding officer, and placed 
 n her carriage, to which two of the troopers 
 harnessed their horses. In this manner she 
 was conducted to the republican post. Being 
 come to herself, she enquired for her son; but 
 what was her horror, when after all her suf- 
 ferings, and the return of hope, she under- 
 stood that not one of the republican party had 
 seen any thing of the young man. She in- 
 stantly comprehended the nature of the mis- 
 take made by the republican party, who hav- 
 ing fired among the rebels as they rode up, 
 had taken her son for one of the enemy's slain. 
 She demanded that they would return with 
 her to the place of action : " My son," she 
 cried, " breathes still; he is worthy of your 
 
ri 
 
 care, and allied to you m principles and' cour- 
 age ; like you he has shed his blood for the 
 republic. Ah ! who knows if another party 
 of the rebels may not be even now on their, 
 way to " 
 
 Her friends heard not another word, they 
 interrupted her to return with her to the fpot 
 they had just quitted. As they drew near to 
 it, some of the troopers who advanced before 
 the party perceived a man having his head 
 bound round with a handkerchief deeped in 
 blood, endeavoring, to ' shun them. This w^as 
 no other than the young man, who having been 
 senseless when his mother departed, had come 
 to himself, and exerting all his strength, was 
 endeavoring to escape from a scene of so many 
 horrors. His evident confusion, and the 
 blood with which his whole body was cover- 
 ed, made the advanced guard believe that he 
 was one of the rebels who had survived and 
 escaped from the field. They ran to him, and 
 shutting their ears to his prayers and cries, 
 slew him, as they imagined, with their sabre?, 
 and threw him into a ditch. No sooner had 
 
ibis happened than the main body of rhe party 
 arrived, and the carriage of the mother passing 
 dose to the body of her son, she instantly re- 
 cognized hini whom she so tenderly loved , at- 
 tered a shriek, and threw herself on the. 
 wounded and disfigured body. 
 
 Exhausted by so many viGissitudes, both tke • 
 mother and son were carried to the republican 
 postj their new friends uncertain whether they 
 were dead or Hving* The young man, how- 
 ever, survived that extraordinary day, and the 
 generous mother had the happiness afterwards 
 to conduct him to Nanles, where her tender- 
 ness and care succeeded in restoring him to ■• 
 p^erfect health,.. 
 
 Among a number of women arrested on ■ 
 the yt/j Messidor, second year of the repuhlla^ . 
 (June 25//^, ,1794,^ was a young, wife who 
 suckled her infant son. . Cited before the tri- 
 bunal, she appeared with the child at her 
 breast. Ihls afflicting spectacle moved the 
 audience with, the most tender pity. The 
 judges perceiving the violence of its effect^-. 
 
23 
 
 oTdeted the mother to withdraw v;ith her in- 
 fant into a neighboring chamber : She had 
 not been interrogated. In about an hour she 
 was informed that she was condemned to 
 death, with all the companions of her arrest, 
 and at the same tim-e the child was torn away 
 from her. Being thrown into one of the dun- 
 geons^ this unfortunate mother uttered the 
 most terrible shrieks, demanding as the sole 
 favor she had to ask, that her child might be 
 restored to her ; but neither her shrieks nor 
 tears could avail any thing with the ferocious 
 agents of the tribunal. About a quarter of an 
 hour before she was taken from the dungeon 
 to be conducted to the scaiFold, this wretched 
 woman threw herself in despair at the feet of 
 her jailors, conjuring them to permit her to 
 give the breast, for the last time, to her child 
 This eitort of despair was treated with as per- 
 fect indifference as the former, . 
 
 An alienation of mind instantly took place 
 in this poor woman, and she died uttering the 
 most incoherent expressions of rage. 
 
14 
 
 One of the feaiale victims of the revolution, 
 was reproar-ched for the tears she shed at the 
 moment when she was hurried away from her 
 peaceful and happy family. 
 
 " Ah/' she said, ^^ give me a little time to 
 dry up the source of my tears ; they are what 
 lowe to nature; at present I belong only to 
 my children, but hereafter I shall have other 
 duties, I shall not forget what is due to my 
 honor. I shall not forget myself, and I shall 
 die as becomes me." 
 
 Madame L. C. was asleep in prison in the 
 midst of her younger children, who had been 
 brought there at her entreaties, when at mid- 
 night the bolts of her chamber door were 
 drawn back, and she heard her name pro- 
 nounced by voices but too much to be dread- 
 ed. At first she considered as a dream the 
 image of death presented to her, surrounded 
 as she was by the helpless and interesting 
 creatures to whom she had given birth. But 
 soon the most piercing anguish succeeded j she 
 
15 
 
 sprang from the arms of her children, pointed 
 out their infantine grace% the emblems of in- 
 nocence, to her jailors, hoping to move them 
 by the sieht of a mother driven to despair. 
 
 *' It is/' said she, *^ this very day eight 
 years since I gave birth to the eldest of this 
 little troop j already have you murdered their 
 father ; are you resolved then to leave in this 
 unhappy land, steeped with blood, none but 
 orphans and monsters ? — ^nothing but smoking 
 ruins and scaffolds ?*' She was taken av/ay 
 without even time afforded properly to dress 
 herself, and she never returned more to her 
 children* 
 
 At Lyons there freqi'^ently occurred otie of 
 those scenes of maternal tenderness, which 
 never- can be effaced from the minds of those 
 who were witnes to them. When the exa- 
 tnination of a prisoner was finished, his fate 
 was promptly and secretly decided ; on which 
 the jailor, who under stood the signal of life 
 or deathj touched the prisoner ou the shoui- 
 
der, and said, *' follow me/' Both one aiid 
 the other then left the hall and descended by 
 a s^nall staircase, v^hlch led under the vesti- 
 bule of tie Hotel de Vilk^ and again under the 
 vaults of the.great court into the dungeons of 
 the place. At the first landing, near to the 
 vestibule was placed a fence of wood j thercj 
 crowding round the rails, were mothers^ more 
 unhappy than their sons, waiting the final 
 sentence from their judges. These womeri 
 liavine learnt that their sons were on their ex- 
 amination, waited at this place to see the pri- 
 soners that descendedo If the jailor returned 
 speedily from the dungeon below, it was a 
 proof that the prisoner was conducted into 
 what was called the prison of favor. If his 
 return was siovv, it was reasonable to be dread- 
 ed he was taken to a dungeon at a greater 
 distance, destined to contain those that were 
 condemned to deatho 
 
 As the prisoner, tinknowing his fate, pass- 
 ed by this opening to the street, he beheld 
 w^omen with their eyes fixed, and mouths 
 open^ anxiously waiting for their §on§ j a^cl 
 
17 
 
 beyond, at a little distance, others on thei> 
 knees, with their faces to the earth, bathing 
 the pavement with their tears, regardless of 
 the passengers, of observers, of the whole uni- 
 verse, fervently beseeching the author of life 
 and death, to grant one and remove the other 
 from the objects of their affections. 
 
 C 
 
CHAP. II. 
 
 CONJUGAL AFFECTION. 
 
 IF, during the revolution, it has to6 often 
 happened that married women have vio^ 
 lated the vows the}' made at the altar, and trod 
 under foot all conjugal duties, numerous in- 
 stances are also to be found of wives constant 
 in their attachment to their husbands, in the 
 extreme of perils and misfortunes ; some^' 
 times extricating thera from danger, and at 
 others voluntarily consigning themselves to 
 the same deaths Honourable si24 delightful 
 would be the task to inscribe in these pages 
 the names of all those virtuous women, and 
 to gather together all the records of their no^ 
 ble actions j but that is at present not to be 
 accomplished, and may never be so ; so many 
 are the sacrifices that have been made by ccn« 
 jugal affection, during the too long continued 
 trials of the revolution. May the few which 
 wc have assembled together, add a new grace 
 
^9 
 
 to that virtue which elevates the wife to the 
 character and dignity of a consoling angel. 
 
 Madame Dudon, the wife of the aged and 
 venerable M. Dudon, formerly attorney gene- 
 ral pf the parliament of Bourdeanx, having re- 
 tired from the world with her family, lament., 
 ed the imprisonment of ker husband, and me- 
 ditated in silence on the danger which threaten- 
 ed his life from the moment of the appointment 
 of the revolutionary committee in that city. In 
 this situation she learnt that it was not impos- 
 siblej.by th-e me^-'s of money, to procure her. 
 husband's release*. A _ hundred Louis d'ors 
 vvas the whole sum she could command from 
 the wreck's of M. Dudon's fortune^ which she 
 had managed with extreme care for the sup- 
 pbrt of .her /children. . She kept the money 
 concealed in a cabinet.^ which had more than 
 onc€ been examined by the- rapacious agents 
 of the revolution, in search of their prey. In 
 the hopes of saving her husband's life, she 
 made an offer of the hundred Louis d'ors to 
 LacQfnb'e^ ..the president of the revolutionary 
 tribunal, who agreed to take the money as the 
 
20 
 
 price of M. Dudon's liberty. This unfor tii- 
 nate v/oman returned to her house agitated 
 with hope and joy, and in the perturbation of 
 her mind neglected nine pieces of the gold, 
 which remained in a corner of the cabinet. 
 She hastily returned to the agent and creature 
 of the president, firmly persuaded that she 
 had brought the sum agreed upon. The con* 
 fidant of Lacombe counted the money, and 
 linding only ninety-one pieces, was transport- 
 ed with rage, and having meanly insulted the 
 unhappy wife of Dudoa,. declared in plain 
 terms, that if she did not immediately return 
 with the sum^ he supposed- she had secreted^ 
 her husband should be instantly sent to the 
 r-evolutionary tribunal. Madame Dudon re- 
 turned to her house confounded, and in "the 
 utmost dread of having lost the money ; she 
 found however^ the nine pieces^ and ran back 
 to the vile agent of Lacomle, The moment 
 the entire sum of one hundred Louis were in the 
 possession of the president, he observed with 
 great coolness, that the money v/as not suffi- 
 cient, and that nothing less than a thousand 
 pieces could purchase M. pudon's safety. 
 
21 
 
 Th<5 reader wiii easily iniagmQ the terror and' 
 anguish of the unfortunate wife, when she . 
 heard this new demand. The president's 
 eagerness to acquire the sum he had last de- 
 manded, accelerated the face of M, Dudon ^ 
 three days were granted to Madame Dudon to 
 raise the thousand pieces 5 and with a declara- 
 tion of this respite she was informed, that her 
 husband would inevitably go to the scaffold if : 
 she failed to procure the money, Madame: 
 Dudon intreated for more time ; she repre«. 
 sented that her husband's effects were under • 
 the national seal, but that it might not be im»- 
 practicable to raise the thousand Louis d'ors if i 
 M. Dudon were set at liberty. Fruitless were 
 her prayers, the only answer she could obtains 
 was — *^ i he money in three days^ orlSlo Dudon 4 
 gees io ^he scaffold on the fourth *^^ 
 
 Driven almost to despair, Madame Dudon 4 
 ran successively to each of her friends, and toi 
 every man of property of whom she. had the^ 
 smallest knowledge^ She spoke in themolbt 
 pathetic terms, some she implored by theirr 
 feindnesSj, and others she endeavored to t^zup^t 
 
2^ 
 
 by oilers of large profit ; but all were deaf to 
 her prayers, and regardless of her tears, k 
 was not that all were unfeeling, but unfortun* 
 arcly for this amiable woman, every person of 
 property knew that the president of the revo- 
 lutionary tribunal v/as eager to discover who, 
 amidst the wreck of fortunes, had money left ; 
 and to- betray any appearance of wealth, was 
 that which most excited every mail's appre* 
 hensions for his own safety,. 
 
 Two days passed away in the fruitless at<. 
 tempts of Madame Dudon to raise the thou- 
 sand Louis d'ors. On the third, in the morn- 
 ing, the extreme of despair conducted the un- 
 fortunate w^ife to the habitation of her hus- 
 band's murderer, she threw herself at his feet, 
 "which she bathed with her tears. She uttered 
 the cries of a frantic and disconsolate woman j 
 she spokt in the name of justice, humanity, 
 mercy : she begged only for one day. The 
 monfler whose pity she attempted to move, 
 answered with these words, addressed to his 
 infamous agent—" I am going to the tribunal, 
 let me know if you XQCCive th$ aigpey at the 
 time appoi^ted/'^ 
 
The Wife of Dudon no longer admitting of 
 bounds to her anguish, rent the air with her 
 eries, and acted with ail the extravagance of 
 despair. The term granted by Lacombe being 
 expired, his agent appeared at the tribunal, 
 and informed him in a low voice — " The mo- 
 ney is not paid," — instantly Dudon is called 
 before the tribunal, condemned to death,, and 
 led to the s.caffold. 
 
 The beautiful and accomplished Madame 
 Lavergne^. had been married but a very short 
 time to M. Lavergne, governor o£ Longwy^ 
 when that fort surrendered to the Prussians. 
 The moment Longwy was retaken by the 
 French, the governor was arrested, and con- 
 ducted to one ©f the prisons of Paris : Madame 
 Laverg72e followed to the capital- She was 
 thtJi scarcely tv*renty years of age,- and one of 
 the loveliest women of France, irier husband 
 w^s upwards of sixty, yet his amiable qualities 
 first won her esieern, and his tenderness suc- 
 ceeded to inspire her with an afTcction as sin^^ 
 cere and fervcat 3S that which he poseessed 
 for her. 
 
24 
 
 That dFeadfiil epocha of the revolution had 
 already arrived, when the scaffold reeked daily 
 with the blood of its unfortunate victims 5. and 
 while Lavergne expected every hour to be sum- 
 moned before the dreadful tribunal, he fell 
 sick in his dungeon. This accident, which at 
 any other moment would have filled the heart 
 of Madame Lavergne with grief and inquie- 
 tude, now elevated her to hope and consola- 
 tion. She could not believe there existed a 
 tribunal so barbarous, as to bring a man before 
 the judgment- seat, who was suffering under a 
 burning fever* > A perilous disease, she imagin- 
 ed, was the present safeguard of her husband's 
 life ; and she promised herself, that the fluc- 
 tuation of events would change his destiny, and 
 £nish in his favor, that which nature had so 
 opportunely begun.. Vain expectation 1 the 
 name of Lavergne had been irrevocably in* 
 srtbed on the fatal list of the nth Germinal^ of 
 the second '^ear of the republic^ (June 25,2 794^, 
 and he must on that day submit to his fate» 
 
 Madame Lavergne informed of this decision, 
 had recourjje to tears and supplications. Per- 
 
-5 
 
 tjuaded that she could soften the hearts of the 
 representatives of the people, by a faithful pic- 
 ture of Laiaergne^ s situation ; she presented 
 herself before the Committee of General Safe- 
 ty : she demanded that her husband^s trial 
 should be delayed, v/hom she represented as a 
 prey to a dangerous and cruel disease,, depriv- 
 ed of his strength, of his faculties, and of ail 
 those powers either of body or mind, which, 
 could enable him to confront his intrepid and 
 arbitrary, accusers* 
 
 " Imagine, Oh citizens,^* said the agonized 
 wife of Lavergne, " such an unfortunate being 
 aa I have described,, dragged before a tribunal 
 about to decide upon his life, while reason 
 abandons him,, while he cannot understand the 
 charges brought against him, nor has sufiici- 
 ent power of utterance to declare his inno- 
 cence. His accusers in full possession of their 
 moral and physical strength, and already in- 
 flamed with hatred against him, are instigated 
 even by his helplessness to more than ordinary 
 exertions of malice ; while the accused, sub- 
 dued by bodily suffering, andmental iriiirmityj 
 
26 
 
 ts appalled or stupified, and barely sustains I 
 the dregs of his miserable existence. Vviil ybti^ j 
 Oh citizens of France, call a man to trial 
 while in the phrenzy of delirium ? Will you- 
 sunimon him, who perhaps at this moment 
 expires upon the bed of pain, to hear that ir* 
 revocable sentence, which admits of no me- 
 dium between liberty or the scaiToId ? and, if 
 you unite humanity with justice, can you suf- 
 fer an old man ^'- ' '^ At these words every 
 eye was turned upon Madame Lavergne, whose 
 youth and beauty, contrasted with the idea of 
 an aged nn infirm hasband-, gave rise to very 
 different emotiosis in the breasts of the mem^ 
 bers of the committee, from those with which 
 she had so eloquently sought to inspire them. 
 They interrupted her with coatse jests and in-^ 
 decent raillery. One of the members assured 
 her with a scornful sniile, that young and 
 handsome as she w^as, it w^ould not be so diffi- 
 cult as she appeared to imagine, to find means 
 of consolation for the loss of a husband, who, 
 in the common Course of nature, had lived al- 
 ready long enough. Another of them, eiqual- 
 ly brutal and still more ferocious, added, that 
 
 .^isMk 
 
^7 
 
 the fervoiir with which she. had pleaded thfe 
 cause of such a husband, was an unnatural ex- 
 cess, and therefore the committee could not 
 attend to her •petition.. 
 
 Horror, indignation, and despair, took pos^ 
 session of the soul of Madame Lavergne ; she 
 had heard the purest and most exalted sitec- 
 lion for one of the worthiest of men, contemn- 
 ed and viilified as a degraded appetite Sh^ 
 had been wantonly insulted, while demanding 
 justice, by the administrators of the laws of a 
 nation, and she rushed ixj silence from the 
 presence of these inhuman merij tp tiide th.4 
 bursting agony of her sorrows,. 
 
 One faint ray of hope yet arose to cheer, 
 the giooFii- of Madam Levergne* s despondency* 
 Dumas was one of the judges of the tribunal, 
 and him she had known previous to the Revo- 
 lution, lier repugnance to seek this man ia 
 hjs, a€w career, was subdued by a know^ledge, 
 of his power, and her hopes of his influence. 
 Siie threw herself at hii> f(?et, bathed them 
 with her tears, and conjured him.by ailthe 
 Glaims of mercy and humanity, to prevail on 
 
28 
 
 the tribunal to cleiay the trial cf her husband 
 till the hour cf his recovery. Dumas replied 
 coldly, that it did net belong to him tc^gra^ht 
 the favor she solicited, nor should he chuse to 
 make such a request of the tribunal ; then, 
 m a tone somev/hat animated by insolence and 
 sarcasm, he added, "and is it then so great a 
 
 7 7 4j 
 
 misfortune, madam, to be delivered from a 
 troublesome husband of sixty, whose death 
 will leave you at liberty to employ your youth 
 and charms more usefully?" 
 
 Such a reiteration of insult, roused the un- 
 fortunate wife of Lavergiie to desperation, she 
 shrieked with insupportable anguish, and, ris- 
 ing from her humble posture, she extended 
 her arms towards heaven, and exclaimed*— 
 *' Just God ! will not the crimes of these atro- 
 cious men awaken thy vengeance 1 go, mon- 
 ster," she cried to Durnas^ " i no longer want 
 tliy aid, I no longer nesd to supplicate thy pi* 
 ty: away to the tribunal there will I also ap- 
 pear : then shall it be known whither I deserve 
 the outrages which thou and thy base dissoci- 
 ates heaped upon me.". 
 
S*rom the presence of the odious Duma's^ an4 
 with a fixed determination to quit a life that 
 was now become hateful to her 5 Madame La* 
 njergne repaired to the hall of the tribunal, and 
 mixing with the crowd, waited in silence for 
 the hour of triak The barbarous proceedings 
 of the day commence- — M. Lavergne is called 
 for-^The jailors support him thither on a mat- 
 trass ; few questions are proposed to him, to 
 v/hich he answers in a feeble and dying vorce^ 
 f^nd sentence of death is pronounced upon him. 
 
 Scarcely had the sentence passed the lips of 
 the judge, when Madame Lavergne cried with 
 a loud voicej Vive le Roil The persons near- 
 est the place whereon she stood, eagerly sur- 
 rounded, and endeavoured to silence herj but 
 the more the astonishment and alarm of the 
 inukitude augmented, the more loud and ve- 
 hement became her cries of Vive le Roi ! The 
 guard was called, and directed to lead her a- 
 way. She was followed by a numerous crowd, 
 inute with consternation or pity ; but the pas- 
 sages and stair-cases still resounded every 
 instant with Vive le Roi ! till she was conduct- 
 
3^ 
 
 el into one of the rooms belonging to the cosrt 
 of justice, into which the Public Accuser came 
 to interrogate her on the motives of her ex^ 
 traordinary conduct. 
 
 ** i am not actuated," she answered, ** by 
 any sudden impulse of despair or revenge, for 
 the condemnation of M. Laverzne. but from 
 the love of royalty, which is rooted in my 
 heart. I adore the system which you have 
 destroyed. I do not expect any mercy from 
 you, for I am your enemy ; I abhor your re- 
 public, and will persist in the confession 1 have 
 publicly made, as long as I live." 
 
 Such a declaration was without reply : the 
 r.ame of Madame Lavergne was instantly add^ 
 ed to the list of suspected persons : a few mr» 
 nutes afterwards she was brought before the 
 tribunal, where she again uttered her own ac- 
 cusation, and was condemned to die. From 
 that instant the agitation of her spirits subsid-* 
 cd, sereni:y took possession of her mind, and 
 Tier beautiful countenance announced only the 
 peace and satisfaction of her souK 
 
31 
 
 On the day of execution, Madame Lavergne 
 first ascended the cart, and desired to be so 
 placed that she might behold her husband. 
 The unfortunate M. La'vergne had fallen into 
 a swoon, and was in that condition, extended 
 upon straw in the cart, at the feet of his wife, 
 without any signs of life. On the way to the 
 place of execution, the motion of the cart had 
 loosened the bosom of Lavergne^s shirt, and 
 exposed his breast to the scorching rays of the 
 sun, till his wife entreated the executioner to 
 take a pin from her handkerchief and fasten 
 his shirt. Shortly afterwards Madame Laverg^ 
 ne, whose attention never wandered from her 
 husband for a single instant, perceived that his 
 senses re.turned^ and. called him by his name : 
 at the sound of that voice, whose melody had 
 so long been withheld from him, Lavergne rais- 
 ed his eyes, and fixed them on her with a look 
 at once expressive of terror and aiTection* 
 ^^ Do not be alarmed/' she said, " it is your 
 faithful wife who called you ; you know f 
 could not live without you, and we are going 
 to die together." Lavergne burst into tears of^ 
 gratitude, sobs and tears relieved the oppress!-- 
 
3^ 
 
 on of his heartj and he became able once mo?e 
 to express his love and admiration of his vir- 
 tuous wife. The scafFold, which was intend^ 
 cd to separate, united them forever.. 
 
 Clavier e^ by birth a Genevan^ was made 
 minister early in the revolution, on account of 
 his great knowledge of financial affairs. Being 
 afterwards proscribed by the faction oi Marat 
 and thrown into prison, he stabbed himself tO; 
 avoid the disgrace of the guillotine, to which- 
 he well knew the malice of his enemies had 
 decreed him. The wife of Claviere was distin- 
 guished for her talents, for her devoted attach* 
 men-t to her husband, and for that sweet and 
 modest character which had always kept her 
 aloof from public affairs, till the hour of her 
 husband's detention, when she labored witk 
 an admirable judgment, on the means to prove 
 his innocence and obtain his liberty. She even. 
 imagined herself on the eve of success, at the. 
 nioment that she received the fatal letter which 
 contained his last assurances of aiTection, and 
 informed her he had resolved to die by his own 
 
33 
 
 hand, rather than permit his enemies the tri- 
 umph of leading him to the scaffold. Her la- 
 bours ineffectual, her hopes annihilated, the 
 profound grief of Madame Claviere disdained 
 all clamour, for it was incapable of mitigation* 
 
 As soon as the public papers announced the 
 death of her husband, she shut herself into her 
 
 chamber for a short interval, during which she 
 swallowed poison, and then returned with a 
 calm but serious air, to receive the numerous 
 friends who had hastened to her house to of- 
 fer her their consolations. ■ No one suspected 
 her situation -until the poison began to operate,- 
 when she summoned her family, and declared 
 to them ami to her surrounding friends^ that 
 she was then dying, . 
 
 <* My ^Q^i^ ought not to afflict you/' sha- 
 said, '* for it restores me to happiness, it gives 
 me back to him for whom alone 1 existed, and 
 whom I cannot endure to survive. Bless the 
 memory of your father, oh my children, of 
 that virtuous father who inspired you with tho 
 love of those sacred principles of truth and ha^ 
 ncr, from which he never departed. VJe^tr^- 
 
 D.2 . 
 
54 
 
 Silso, sometimes, for his unhappy vvife-^your 
 disconsolate mother/' 
 
 Madame Clavier e then embraced her chil- 
 dren, and desired to be left wholly to the re- 
 gulation of her affairs ; and notwithstanding 
 the extreme pain she suffered, she applied her- 
 self wich incredible vigor and activity, to make 
 such dispositions relative to her property, as' 
 were appropriate to the separate interests of 
 her family. Meanwhile she continued stea- 
 dily to refuse medical assistance, and waited 
 calmly for the moment of dissolution. An 
 hour before her death she was dreadfully con<- 
 vulsed, and though insensible to every thing 
 around her, the image of her husband seemed 
 to be still present to her view 5 she was perpe« 
 tually heard to exclaim with sn impressive but 
 broken voice, ^* Excellent man! I am worthy 
 of thee! I glory in thy republican firmness, and 
 I have followed thy example : thou hast given 
 me the signal : receive the sacrifice of my life^ 
 which I triumph to render to thee, as the last 
 the dearest tribute of aflectioE ! 
 
35 
 
 Thus expired Madame Clavier e^ whose extra- 
 ordinary talents would have placed her among 
 the most illustrious of women, had she poss- 
 essed vanity enough to-makethcin known. 
 
 Madame de B. deprived of her rank, of her 
 .fortune, and separated fsom her husband^ 
 found an obscure shelter from the calamities 
 of the Revolution^ in one of the suburbs of 
 Paris, where she earned a scanty subsistence 
 by the labor of her hands. Of the fate of M. 
 DE B. she was entirely ignorant. Ker seclu- 
 sion, her fears, and her poverty, alike kept her 
 from the knowledge of the miseries that had 
 doomed so many of her relatives and connec- 
 tions to destruction; and although some 
 months had elapsed since M, de B. had perish- 
 ed on the scaffold, her only consolation was 
 still the hope of their re-union 5 her motive 
 still to labor, the flattering presentiment re- 
 newed from day to day, that some happy 
 chance would yet conduct him to her indigent 
 asylum» 
 
36^- 
 
 III ths midst of these cherished expectations 
 the law was promulgated that banished the 
 nobility from Paris within three days. Ma- 
 dame DE B, was overwhelmed with conster* 
 nation at this decree. She had had incredible 
 diiticulty to find - resources- against absolute 
 want, even in Paris ; and she kngw^lTot how > 
 it. would be possible for her to exist in a 
 strange country, without money, friends^ or* 
 protectors. 
 
 Thus helpless and destitute of resource^ . 
 Madame de B continued in Paris notwithstand-. 
 ing the rigorous penalty lattached to the law of 
 banishment. Her obscurity and extreme po- 
 verty would, she imagined, shield, her from 
 the jealous observation of the government j . 
 but Madame de B. had alreadv been discover- 
 ed and denounced by the Agents of the Re= 
 volutionary tribunal, and no sooner were the 
 three days allowed by the decree at an end, . 
 than the committee of her section repaired to 
 the house where she dwelt, to take her into 
 custody, if she had not obeyed the law. 
 
 They found Madame de B. alone in her 
 chamber^ and laboring for her daily support, 
 
37 
 
 She reeelvecl them with an air of dignity, and 
 listened while they read aloud the order of ar- 
 rest, without betraying any signs of emotion^ 
 till the following words were pronounced, 
 '^ Madame de B, widow of M. de B. zvbo was- 
 executed for conspiracy ;'* when she uttered a, 
 piercing shriek, and fell prostrate on the floor 
 of her apartment. The committee were asto- 
 nished at this sudden transition | they raised 
 her from the ground, and learned from her af- 
 fecting lamentations the subjeet of her grief.. 
 ^^ What,'* said one of them tauntingly, *' did 
 jou not know that your husband was guillo- 
 tined ? Oh, that happened so long since that 
 you ought by this time to be out of mourning." 
 His cruel speech restored Madame de B. to 
 her fortitude,. " Do you come," she answer- 
 ed, " to insult my misfortunes? but you shall 
 not enjoy the spectacle of my despair. Know 
 barbarians, that neither you nor your punish- 
 ments can appal my courage; you cannot more 
 thirst for my blood than I covet to die ;^ and 
 to give you every polTible pretext to lead me 
 to the scaiFold, be assured, that I have never 
 
 ceased to conspire for the restoration of roy- 
 alty." 
 
38 
 
 The zeal of the committee would not have 
 slumbered without this declaration from Ma- 
 dame BE B', she was instantly committed to 
 one of the prisons of Paris, and a few days 
 sfterwards guillotined. 
 
 Almost every city in France is honored, like 
 Paris, with having been the scene where the 
 conjugal tenderness of women has risen supe" 
 rior to the considerations of self-love, has baf- 
 fled the decrees of tyrants, and given striking 
 examples of that steadfast fortitude, arising 
 from principle and affection, more honorable 
 to human nature than the splendid impulses 
 ®f instinctive courage.- 
 
 At Lyons, when that city became the thea- 
 tre of daily executions, a woman learned by 
 chance that her husband's name was on the 
 list of the proscribed, and instantly ran to avert 
 the impending destruction by securing his im- 
 mediate flight. She compelled him to assume 
 her dress, gave him her money and jewels, and 
 had the inexpressible happiness to see him pas3> 
 
59 
 
 linsuspected. A few hours afterwards die of- 
 ficers of justice came to seize upon him. She 
 had prepared herself to receive them, by put- 
 ting on a suit of her husband's clothes, and an- 
 swering also to her husband's name, ^he was 
 led before the Revolutionary Committee-. Iti 
 the course of the examination her disguise 
 was discovered, and they demanded of her, 
 her husband* 
 
 " My husband," she answered in a tone of 
 exultation, " is out of the reach of your pow- 
 er. I planned his escape, and I glory in risking 
 my own life for the preservation of his.*' 
 
 They displayed before her the instrument 
 of punishment, and charged her to reveal the 
 rout her husband had taken. " Strike," she 
 replied, " I am prepared." — '^ But it is the in- 
 terest of your country that commands ycu to 
 speak," said one of the committee. " Barba- 
 rians," she answered, '' my country cannot 
 command me to outrage the sac2*ed laws of 
 nature." 
 
 Her dignity and firmness awed even the 
 tnem.bers of the Revolutionary Committeej 
 
i4-S 
 
 a noble action for once prevailed 07tt 
 their spirit of desolating cruelty. 
 
 In one of the western departments, a mail 
 of the name of Le-forte, accused of con- 
 spiring against the republic, was seized and 
 committed to prison. His wife, trembHng 
 for his fate, used every means that courage 
 and affection could inspire, to restore him to 
 liberty, but without success. She then bought^ 
 with a sum of money, permission to pay him a 
 single visit in his prison. 
 
 At the appointed hour she appear€d before 
 her husband clothed in twt) suits of her own 
 apparel. V/irh the prudence of not allowing 
 herseh'^, at so critical a juncture, to give or re- 
 ceive useless demonstrations' of tenderness^ 
 she hastily took off her upper suit of attire> 
 prevailed on her husband to put them on, and 
 to quit the prison, leaving her in his place, 
 
 I The disguise succeeded to her wish, Le- 
 yoRTE escaped, and the stratagem was not 
 discovered till the following day. 
 
41 
 
 «< Unhappy wretch," cried one of the en^ 
 raged committee, " what have you done?''; 
 "My duty," she repHed, " do thine/'' 
 
 "While the system of terror prevailed ia 
 France, multipHcd acts of oppression fell upon 
 the unfortunate victims of suspicion ; yet the 
 more rigorously the dungeons were closed 
 against the relatives and friends of the impri-^ 
 soned, the more ingenious and inventive af- 
 fection became, ia finding means of comma* 
 nication, . 
 
 One of the prisoners in the Luxemburg^ 
 hkd a dog, who, it will be seen in the follow- 
 ing recital, gave extraordinary proofsof sa- 
 gacity, as well as of attachment to his master^ 
 Every day the dog watched an opportunity to 
 pass into the interior of the prison, and, enter- 
 ing the chamber of his master., cverwhelmed 
 him with caresses. One day in particular hh 
 demonstrations of joy were so reiterated as to 
 become exceedingly troublesome ; but the 
 more. his. master strove to repder him quje 
 
 t^ 
 
4^ 
 
 the more Importuisately the ammal persisted in 
 his caresses; he leaped", howled^ barked, and 
 bending his head downward, appeared to di- 
 rect the attention of his master to his collar..- 
 Concluding the dog had hscn wounded by 
 ' some accident, he then examined him, but 
 finding- no kind of huit upon him, and being 
 teized by his restlessness, he attempted to put - 
 him out of the room. The dog however, es- 
 caped from his hands, and displayed the sam^ 
 tokens, till his master took off the collar, wher^. 
 the animal again began to bark and to wblneg.. 
 but no longer with a tone of inquietude* Sur* 
 prised at the manifest change in the manner of 
 the dog, the prisoner directed his attention to 
 the collar, and foxind that it held a letter fron> 
 his wife, who, constantly repulsed at the door- 
 of the prison, had found this means of convey- 
 iii^^ her sentiments to him. Ife replied by the 
 same courier, A regular correspondence was 
 now carried en, tind etery d^ay at a certaint 
 hour, the faithful commissioner of affection 
 passed and repassed with his invisible message. 
 
43 
 
 Madams dii Chatelct had, during sfxty years, 
 enjoyed the public esteem, and the entire love 
 and affection of her family and friends. It is 
 true she had never known the happiness to be 
 a mother, ; but she was surrounded with rela- 
 tions whom she confidered as her childrea. 
 Her generosity to these, however, never en- 
 croached on funds which she dedicated to the 
 poor on her own estates, at Paris, and where- 
 ever she happened to reside. Her fortune was 
 employed as if it had been given her on condi- 
 tion of her relieving all the distress it conld 
 feach. 
 
 ."With a temper benevolent as this we have 
 described, Madame du Chaielet possessed a dis- 
 cerning mind, a heart naturally attached to 
 whatever was good, unshaken courage in mis- 
 fortune, and that rare modesty which enhances 
 the value of such admirable qualities. 
 
 Madame du Chateki survived her husband, 
 ^ho perished on the scaiFold. She was de- 
 tained in prison ; but it v\^as not her own dan- 
 ger that occupied her thoughts ; her daily 
 prayer was, that she might be called before 
 
44 
 
 the Revolutionary Tribunal. Each time she 
 
 heard tiie bell sound, her heart beat with joy 
 
 ia the hope that it was the signal of her execu» 
 
 tion, and when her hopes were deceived, it was 
 
 5 then only that she shed tears. -One of the re- 
 
 iinements of cruelty of those frightful times 
 
 was, the punishment inflicted on the tender** 
 
 est of afiections, as in this instance of Madame 
 
 'du Chatelet, Not only did the murderers of 
 
 this excellent woman refuse to let her sufler at 
 
 :the same instant with her husband, but they 
 
 extended the torture till they saw that she was 
 
 gradually expiring beneath its excess ; she was 
 
 :sent to the scaffold, and her noble deportment 
 
 m this last scene was not the least brilliant cir<^ 
 
 cumstance of a life crowded with splendid ac- 
 
 ;tions. 
 
 In one of the prisons of Paris, among a 
 'multitude that expected their trial, was a 
 young man of a most interesting figure and 
 countenance, who was accompanied by his 
 wife, an extremely young and beautiful wo- 
 man» Happy that they were not separated ia 
 
45 
 
 this dreadful mdment, this young couple fully 
 persuaded themselves thsit the same blo\^ 
 Would release them frbm this life, and unite 
 their 6ouk in a better world 5 and the sweet 
 hope of a union that never could be dissolved 
 spread inexpressible charms even over the hor» 
 rid scenes with which they wete surrounded^ 
 One day, while the youthful wife was v/aiking 
 in the court with other prisoners, she heard 
 her husband called to the outer gate of the 
 prison. She comprehended that it v/as the 
 signal of his death : she ran after him resolved 
 to share his fate. The jailor refused to let 
 her pass. With unusual strength, derived 
 from her grief, she made her way, threw her- 
 self into the arms of her husband, hung upou 
 iiis neck, and with the most affecting cries be- 
 sought them to suffer her to die with her hus- 
 band- She v/as torn away by the guards, 
 ^* Barbarians/^ she cried, " can you compel 
 me to live ?*' at the same moment she dashed 
 her head violently against the gate of the prl- 
 ^Oiij and ia a fev/ minutes expired. 
 
4^ 
 
 The singular and generous sacrif5<:c made by 
 Madame de Mouchy ought not to be forgotten* 
 The Mareschal de Mouchy was conducted a 
 prisoner to the Luxemburg ; scarcely was he 
 there when his wife entered the prison. The 
 Jailor observed to her, that the order for the 
 Mareschars arrest made no mention of her 
 She answered with mingled gaiety and sweet* 
 ness. ^^ Since my husband is a prisoner^ I am one 
 ^ls9.*^ 
 
 When the Martschal was carried before the 
 Revolutionary Tribunal, he was attended by 
 his lady* The Public Accliser having inform-, 
 ed her that she was not called upon to appear^ 
 she replied, " When my husband is called for ^ I 
 ■also am called. ^^ 
 
 In a word, when sentence of death was pro* 
 aounced upon the Mareschal^ his wife ascend- 
 ed the cart with him, and when the execution! 
 cr objected that she was not condemned to 
 die^ she answered, " Since sentence is passed 
 upon my husband^ it is passed upon me a!so'\ 
 
 The singular conduct of this courageous 
 t7oman led to the issue she so ardently desir:. 
 
'€cl. she had the happiness to die at the same 
 moment with him, whose existence alone made 
 life interesting to her. 
 
 It IS a fact well known to many persons In 
 Paris, that the young wife of a person de- 
 tained in one of the prisons, after vainly 
 exhausting every invention and means in 
 her power to see her husband for a moment, 
 placed herself close to the gate of the prison, 
 where she remained forty-eight hours wholly 
 without nourishment. At length she fainted 
 with grief, fatigue, and hunger, and lay on 
 the ground four hours without assistance : 
 the jailor being too much inured to cruelty 
 to think of relieving her, and the passengers 
 too sensible of the danger of relieving any 
 6ne connected with a prisoner. 
 
 No bne i^ ignorant that Lowvet wai^ 
 i)mong the deputies proscribed by the fac^ 
 tion of Marat, who eluded the pursuits of 
 their enemies. The various dangers he in- 
 
4i 
 
 ctlrted, and his critical escape, ^re related iii 
 an interesting work, which he puhli^hed in the 
 third year of the republic-, under the title of 
 
 Memoirs for the history of my perils during the 
 proscription^ 
 
 The most curious and imporlant* part of 
 this work, is that which contains the rela'-iou 
 of the means contrived by his wife for his con- 
 cealment after his return to Paris. We shall 
 here permit the author of Fabulas to speafe 
 for- himself, lest otherwise we should dimi^ 
 jiish the Interest of this wonderful event. 
 
 " Attend to me for a moment, said my wife 
 me day. One consolation at least remains td 
 lis, which cannot be taken away : We will 
 die together. This is my scheme : to-morrovv 
 TOorning I will look for a lodging in an ob- 
 scure part of tho. town -, I will take it in my 
 maiden name, and there I will receive you. i 
 know that enquiries will soon be made about 
 the new comer, aiid it will not be long before 
 I am discovered, and then, supposing even that 
 I am not suspected of concealing you, it will 
 
45 
 
 he sufficient for the rage of ourenemies to find 
 in me thy wife, and the companion of all thy 
 enterprises, to induce them to sentence mc to 
 the scaffold. Yet they shall not conduct me 
 thither; as well as thyself, I conceived the 
 plan of ^hunning their mode of death. Ob- 
 serve my love, thac thus we shall gain eight 
 days, or fifteen days, perhaps a month, or two 
 months. Oh my husband! how much longer 
 shall we live in this short space of time, than 
 those who diQ of old age ! 
 
 ^* I folded her in my arms, I pressed her to 
 my heart, her eyes shedding the most delici- 
 ous tears. 
 
 " But — I said to her, if it were but polTible 
 that one day v;ithout me life would be less in- 
 supportable to you — in time perhaps— 
 
 *' Why. this outrage, said she, interrupting 
 me, in what have I deserved it ? She fled from 
 my arms, clasped her hands together, and 
 raised her eyes to heaven, 
 
 ^^ No, she cried, I swear that without thee 
 life is a burden, an intolerable burden. Alone 
 
I shall soon die^ and die of despair. Ah, grant 
 m-e, grant me this favor only^ that we may die 
 together. 
 
 *' My wife began instantly to put her scheme 
 in execution. She hired an appartment, and. 
 even before . she had prepared the particular 
 place of my concealment, I went to reside with 
 her. The delicate hands of my Lodoiska, 
 (this is the name which Louvet gave his wife) 
 her lovely hands, that had never been accus- 
 tomed, as may v/eil be imagined, to the trow- 
 el or mortaf , in five days finished, without my 
 aid, a piece of work so perfectly conceived, 
 and execu^ted with <^o much skill, that it mJght 
 well have passed for the work of a master. 
 Unless it were absolutely known that some 
 one was enclosed in this little place, the out- 
 side of which appeared to be a wail, and a wall 
 in which no opening could be discerned, I 
 would confidently have defied persons the best 
 skilled in the art of building to have found me 
 there. If a knock was heard at our door, my 
 wife proceeded slowly to open the inner of 
 three doors which belonged to our apartmentSi, 
 
5t 
 
 which she never did rill she knew that I vras' 
 recure in my asylum, la this little place I had 
 a chair, a mat for my feet, and phosphorus to 
 light a candle with. We had neighbors both 
 on the same floor with us and below, and the 
 "walls and the planks of the floor, being ilightj 
 we covered the walls with a very thick tapes- 
 trvj and the fiocr with a strong carpet ; and 
 that. I might walk without being heard, my 
 U'ife^ always inv:enUve and Ingenious, made me 
 slippers of coarse wool, with very thick soles 
 ©f the skia of an animal, having the hair out^ 
 ward. 
 
 " Various other precautions of an inferior 
 nature were provided and never forgotten ; 
 but this excellent asylum^ and all my wife's 
 tutelary cares, would avail little against a visit 
 of the Committee of General Safety, or the 
 Municipality. If, said my worthy ccnipanion, 
 w^ hear a knocking in the middle. of the night, 
 we will not open tliQ door j still less shall we 
 desire to save the prey of our enemies from 
 death. We will let them break open the firfl 
 dQor# Thers ftill ren^ains two;, which are 
 
52 
 
 sirong.5 and have locks and bolts. Your pistols 
 
 are always under your pillow ; not for our 
 
 murderers, but for ourselves; in any- case we 
 
 shall have time to destroy ourselves, and I be^ 
 seech you not to be the first to fire. Give mc 
 
 a minute, one minute, only, that I may, die. be? 
 
 fore my husband.. 
 
 ^^ How often have we Iain down, almost as- 
 sured that we should open our eyes to close 
 them again immediately for ever. How often 
 when a lodger of the house came home at mid^ 
 night, have we been suddenly wakened with a 
 knocking at the gates, and then hearing itturn- 
 ing on its hinges, have we embraced eachothen 
 and seized the instruments of death*'? 
 
 LouvET owed his safety to the affectionate 
 and intelligent cares of his wife, who from tha£ 
 moment, till the time when he could appear int 
 public, and invoke the national justice, suc- 
 cespfally concealed him from his enemies, and ; 
 disappointed all their malice." 
 »<-<•.<•••< t^^l^^v >•>..>.. 
 
 Before we conclude this chapter, we must 
 shortly mention the following instances ofcoiu 
 
53 
 
 jugal afFsction. M-adame Raheaud St. Etlenne^ 
 wholly overcome by despair on the executioji 
 of her husband, threw herself into a well, 
 where she perished. 
 
 In a manner very different from this, and 
 Innnitely more worthy of the passion we are 
 endeavouring to illusrate, did Madame Phelip» 
 peaux prove her love to her husband. Fhelip* 
 peaux resolved to engage his wife to survive his 
 death. It v/as his last and only anxiety, that 
 she should not fall a sacrifice to her frenzy or 
 sorrow. He sought to dry up her tears be-, 
 fore the event of his death took place, and en- 
 deavored to engage her feelings by consolati- 
 ons proper to effect them. Never before were 
 painted with such vivid and impressive color- 
 ing the duties which bind the mother to the 
 children ; imposing on her the sacred law of 
 preserving herself for their prosperity and hap- 
 piness. 
 
 How eloquent and affecting are the words 
 of the last letter he wrote to her, in which arc 
 plainly to be seen the presentiment, the assur- 
 tt^ce of the success of his noble argaamentSo 
 
S4 
 
 ^^ Farewell^ my lovely aiid unfortunatSi 
 friend," said M. Fhellppcaux in that letter, " if 
 what I now write is my last legacy, and as I 
 tnay say my last embrace on earth ! there is an- 
 other abode where virtuous souls, that have 
 httw united here, will meet again. Yet I do 
 not wish that even there we may meet, till my 
 boy, my Augustus, no longer has need of thy 
 cares.- 
 
 FhelippeauA s last wish was accomplished^ 
 The reluctance of his widow to live was over- 
 come by the recollection of his reasoning. She 
 continued to live, but the tears which she shed 
 to his memory, attested the power that conju- 
 ^gal love still rliaintained over her gentle mindo 
 
 Madame Banrave who had always passion- 
 ately loved her husband, survived him but to 
 dedicate to a sorrow, which seemed to be her 
 only occupation, the remains of her life, Shg 
 vAca in a few months after her husband's ex- 
 ecution. 
 
 The Widow of Camill'c DesmouUns^ young, 
 amiable^ and well informed^ during the mock 
 
53- 
 
 process which condemned her to death as aa. 
 a<:complice of her husband and hh friend, loa- 
 thing life, and anxious to follow her husband, 
 displayed a firmness of mind that was seen 
 with admiration even by her judges. She fre- 
 quently heard the questions put to her with a 
 smile expressive of her conscious dignity. 
 When she heard the sentence pronounced, 
 she exclaimed, "I shall then in a few hours: 
 again meet my husband !" And then turning 
 to her judges, she said, "In departing from,, 
 this world in which nothing now remains to 
 engage my affections, I am less the object of 
 pity than you are; for you must feel all the 
 unhappiness inflicted by conscious crimes, till 
 the moment when an ignominious death shall; 
 overtake you/' 
 
 Previous to her going to the scaffold, she 
 dressed herself with uncommon attention and 
 taste. Her head-dress was peculiarly elegant . 
 a white gauze handkerchief, partly covering 
 her beautiful black hair, added to the clear- - 
 ness and brilliancy of her complexion. Ca 
 seeing her ascend the cart that conveyed her- 
 
S6 
 
 to the place of execution, one might almost 
 have supposed, from her happy countenance^ 
 that she was going to a festival. On the road 
 she conversed in a cheerful manner with a 
 young man who sat beside her, and who w^as 
 also condemned to die- Being conle to the, 
 foot of the scaffold, she ascended the steps 
 with resignation and even unaffected pleasure. 
 She received the fatal blow without appearing 
 to have regarded what the executioner was 
 doing. 
 
 The pathetic remonstrances of Madame De^ 
 chi%eau% at the bar of the Convention, moved 
 the assembly even to tears, and wrested from 
 it a decree of vengeance against the assassins 
 of her husband. 
 
 The gardens of the Luxembourg every day 
 offered a scene as interesting as is possible to 
 imagine. A multitude of married women from 
 the various quarters of Paris, crowded toge. 
 ther in the hopes of seeing their husbands for 
 a moment at the windows of the prisons, to of- 
 fer or receive from them a look, a gesture, or 
 some other testimony of their love and fear. 
 
ff Br. 
 
 :>/ 
 
 No weather banished these women from the 
 gardens, neither the excess of heat or cold, nor 
 tempests of winds or rain. Some almost ap- 
 peared to be changed into statues ; others, 
 worn out with fatigue, have been seen, when 
 the objects of their affection at length appear- 
 ed, to fall senseless to the ground-, incapable of 
 sustaining the violence of their emotions. 
 There was a period when every external mark 
 of grief on such occasions became a crimeo 
 How interesting was it then to see these affec- 
 tionate and generous creatures, devising the 
 most ingenious means to assure their husbands 
 of the grief with which they were consurned. 
 One presented herself with an infant in her 
 arms, bathing it with her tears in the hus« 
 band's sight j another disguised herself in the 
 dress of a beggar, and, sitting the whole day 
 at the foot of a tree where she could be seen <^ 
 by her husband, thus shewed that nothing 
 could console her for her misfortune* The - 
 miseries of these amiable w^omen were greatly- 
 enhanced when a high fence was thrown round - 
 the prison, keeping them at a distance from the • 
 w^lisj and whea a^^l persons w^ie foxhMm to -^ 
 
remam stationaty in any part of the gardens 
 Then they were seen wandering like shade?, 
 through^ the dark and melancholy avenues of 
 the garden, returning to re»tread their foot- 
 steps, regarding with suspicion their compani- 
 ons occupied by the same sorrow, and casting 
 the most anxious looks at the impenetrable 
 wails of the palace. Lively proofs of the most 
 tender aitection i never will pencil be able to 
 do vou iustice ! 
 
S3 
 
 CHAP. Ill: 
 
 FILIAL AFFECTION. 
 
 'HERE have been instances of filial aiiec^ 
 tlon during the Revolution, which do not 
 seem to have their equal in history. Wha 
 would not delight to contrast these acts of 
 heroism with the youth and delicacy of tha 
 females who have atchieved them — These mo^ 
 numents of sensibility, with the excesses of 
 cruelty— These generous enterprises, this de- 
 lirium of filial duty (as it may be called J which^ 
 amid the ruins of almost all the virtues, re^ 
 stored the human character to all its grandeur 
 and dignity ? It is delightful to paint men with 
 circumstances of such exterior splendor, it is 
 8till more dch'ghtful to find in women the mo- 
 dels for such a work. The charm by which 
 we are naturally attached to them, adds a new 
 grace even to their slightest acts of gener6sity«» 
 How happy then are we, when wx can fairly 
 cede the superiority to th^m in grandeur of 
 
6q 
 
 soul, and thus give a new and legitimate sane- 
 tion to the partiality which we feel for the sex! 
 
 Mademoiselle CazoUe was the only daughter 
 of her father, v/ho at the commencement of 
 the Revolution was seventy- two years of age. 
 , Closely connected with La Porte (the Inten- 
 daat of the Civil List) M. Cazotte^s fate was 
 involved in hiso Letters written by him to 
 La Porte were found in the possession of the 
 latter, and M. Cazotie was immediately arrest- 
 ed, and with his daughier taken to the prison 
 of the Abbey, - 
 
 '"■ A few days after, Mademoiselle Cazotte was 
 pronounced innocent of the treason for which 
 she and her father had been arrested, and au 
 aider came to the prison to set her at liberty 5 
 but she refused to partake of any other than 
 her father's fate: she solicited and obtained the 
 favor to remain with him. . 
 
 "When those dreadful days arrived, which 
 were the last of ?o many Frenchmen, Made-- 
 melselle Cazotte^ by her interesting figure, and 
 the eloqu^^ce of her lang"uage, was iortunate 
 
6i 
 
 enough to interest certain Marsellois who had' 
 quartered themselves in the Abbey, and these 
 men saved her father's Hfe for that time. In 
 the evening of the second of September, after 
 three hours of an uninterrupted massacre, a 
 number of voices loudly called for Cazotte, On 
 hearing the name, and perceiving the danger 
 it menaced, the daughter of this old man went 
 out to meet a group of murderers who ap* 
 proached. Her wonderful beauty, her ex- 
 treme youth and uncommon courage, seenaed 
 for an instant to shake their purpose. 
 
 ^' What hast thou done to be here with thy 
 daughter ?'' said one of them to Cazotie, 
 
 ^ You will find that," answ^ered the old 
 man, '* in the jailor's book." 
 
 Two of them wer^ detached to examine the. 
 books, and returned a few moments after, re- 
 porting, that Cazoite was detained as a decided 
 Counter-revolutionist. 
 
 Scarcely was the report made, than an axe 
 
 '>was raised over the head of Cazoits. His 
 
 daughter uttering a shriek, threw herself upon 
 
62 
 
 her fathsr, covered him with her body, and 
 disdaining to descend to unworthy supplicati- 
 on, she desired and demanded only to diQ with 
 
 liini. 
 
 "Strike, barbarians!'* she said to them, 
 •*' you cannot reach my father but through my. 
 heart!'* ' - 
 
 At this moving .spectacle, on hearing these 
 impassioned expressions, the assassins hesi- 
 tated and trembled, A shout of pardon / par^ 
 don ! was heard from an individual 5 it was re- 
 peated by a hundred voices. The Marselkis 
 opened themselves a passage to the two vic- 
 tims, on the point of being slaughtered, sur- 
 rounded them, and the father and daughter, 
 covered with this sacred shield, were conduct- 
 ed with shouts of applause from that habitat!, 
 on of misfortunes and crimes.. 
 
 Lovely and virtuous girl ! at that moment 
 you compelled the most detestable of men to 
 pay an homage to your intrepidity. Your de- 
 parture from a place of horrors was a trium- 
 phant procession^ and you heard on every side. 
 
these words so honorable to yourself — " Let 
 old age nnd beauty be respected by all*' — You 
 beheld the same hands, red with the blood of 
 a multitude of victims, and a moment before 
 about to be steeped in your blood and your fa- 
 ther's blood, open a passage through a feroci- 
 ous horde, panting for carnage. Ah, could 
 you imagine, that having disarnicd so many- 
 furious assassins, which it seemed as if no re- 
 straint could withhold from their savage pur- 
 pose, you could not move the hearts of men 
 whose duty it was to adtiiiaister the lav\'^ but 
 administer it with mercy ! 
 
 After the institution of the Criminal Tribn- 
 nal, Gazette vvz% again arrested. Nothing was 
 left untried by the good old man to dissuade 
 his daughter from following him to prison. 
 Prayers, entreaties and positive commands, 
 were k^ere entirely fruitless* 
 
 " In the company of yoU, my father,'^ said 
 MademohseUe Ca%Qtie^ '' I have faced the most 
 cruel assasins ; and shall I not be the compa- 
 nion of your new misfortune, in which there is 
 Jess danger ? 1 he hope of saving your life 
 
C4 
 
 again will support me j I will shew to your 
 judges your furthead furrowed with age -, I 
 will ask them if a man^ an old man, who has 
 but a few days to linger cut among his fellow- 
 beings, may not find mercy in the eyes of jus- 
 tice, after having escaped the extreme of dan' 
 ger ? If he whose white hairs could plead with 
 assassins, ought not to receive indulgence from 
 magistrates, one of whose attributes should be 
 mercy? The voice of nature will again be 
 heard, and perhaps I may again save you from 
 ■the cruel fate which impends over us. 
 
 Melancholy presentiments were the father's 
 sole answer ; yet, overcaaie by his daught€r's 
 pressing entreaties^ he permitted her to foiiow- 
 him to prison. 
 
 The gate of the prison however refuses to 
 open to the daughter after Cazotte had entered » 
 She flew to the Com.mune and to the Minister 
 of the Interior, and by the force of tears and 
 supplications, wretted from them permission 
 to attend her father. She passed the whole of 
 her time, day and night, near her father, ex- 
 cepting when she went gut to solicit the judg- 
 
6s 
 
 es in his favot, or to prepare the materials of 
 his defence. She obtained promises of sup- 
 port from the same Mar^elkls that had already 
 rendered her such service in the former dan- 
 ger, and she interested in her behalf certain la- 
 dies of considerable influence, who promised 
 to exert it for her father^s llfea 
 
 Unfortunate e:^pectations : every human 
 creature abandoned her in ili^ fatal hour of 
 trial! 
 
 When Caxoiie was called before the trlbii- 
 "d, the old man appeared supported by his 
 daughter, fronting the judges who must de- 
 cide his and her fate. As soon as she was seea 
 by the immense multitude that filled the court 
 a sudden murmur of applause ran through the 
 place, and she, with her eyes fixed on her fa- 
 ther, endeavored to encourage and console 
 him. 
 
 At length the cruel pleadings commenced* 
 During the reading of the written evidence, 
 and aftewards of the speech of the Public Ac- 
 cuser, the entire feelings of Mademoiselle Ca^ 
 
 G 
 
^U6ife were imprinted on her beautiful face-^ 
 Every one noticed the variety of changes it un* 
 derwent; the marks of fear and hope rapidly 
 stic'ceeded each other. Several times she was 
 on the point of raising her voice, but her fa- 
 ther^ previous to their proceeding to the tri- 
 bunal, had imposed the law of silence on her 
 when he should be before his judges, and the 
 .slightest look of disapprobation was 8ufiiciei>^t 
 10 retain her in silence. 
 
 Unhappy daughter! her filial ajTection sub- 
 jected her to the anguish of witnessing thl 
 most trying of scenes. She heard the dreadful 
 conclusions of the Public Accuser, which were 
 the too faiihfal omens of her father's condem- 
 nation. Pale, trembling, nnd ready to sink 
 on the ground, there ^fts nothing but the voice 
 of her beloved father that could sustain her in 
 that extremity. Cazstte spoke to her in a lovr 
 voice, pointing towards heaven, to which the 
 lovely girl turned her eyes, and she seemed to 
 be somewhat calmed- But it bfcame abio- 
 luiely necessary to take her away from her fa- 
 ther when the semezice was to be pronounced. 
 
Deep sighs were heard- through the hall. This 
 unfortunate and amiable girl had breathed a 
 portion of her feelings into every soul. 1^' hen 
 she was so far removed from the court that her 
 groans could not be heard, then she abandon- 
 ed herself to a despair which it is not possible 
 to describe. 
 
 The daughter oiCa'x.oUs had seen hfr faiher 
 for the la^t time. Some persons who were 
 interestCLd in her fate, were permitted to enter 
 the prison with the deiign of taking her away. 
 hi that moment she had fallen into a $woon,. 
 Ilaviag returned to herself,, she was again 
 plunged into the deepest despair.. She wish^ 
 ed to go to her father, she begged to die with 
 him. It v/as not till sssino- her?df surroundf cI" 
 with her father^SsfriendSj and feeling their tears 
 fall on her cheeks, that she admitted of any 
 Gonsolalion, and this favorr^Lle momerit was 
 seized to lead her back to. her furrillv, 
 
 ls\Qi% \.h'tuou5- and rrenerous ^Irl! receive, 
 this small tribute of admiration which thy iiliali 
 affectioa. inspires,. May its example go down* 
 
m 
 
 to postcria^j and trasmit "with thy name ihn 
 love of virtue which distinguishes thy unfor« 
 tunate life ! 
 
 The same prison in which Madcmoiseih Ca^ 
 z§tfe acted so illustrious a part was the scene 
 of another event, which, by the similarity of 
 circumstances, and the sensation it produced, 
 deserves to be placed next to the story of Ma* 
 demoiselle. CazotU* 
 
 Mademohelle Scmbreuil had been eight days 
 ■wkh her father la the prison of the Abbey, 
 when the unhappy massacres of September 
 commenced. After many prisoners had been 
 ^lurdered.,, and the sight of blood continually 
 flowing seemed only to increase the rage of 
 the assassins y while the wretched inhabitants 
 of the prison endeavored to hide themselves- 
 from the death that hovered over them. Ma- 
 demoiiells Sojnhreuil rushed into the presence o£ 
 The murderers who had seized upon her fa- 
 ther, ** Barbarians,'' she crisd^ ^^ hold your 
 hands! he is mi^ father,"' S|ie threw herself at 
 
tlieir xtet, and kissed their hands reeking witKi 
 blood. At one moment she seized the hand 
 lifted against her father — the next, she offered 
 herself to the sword, and so placed herself,, 
 that they could not strike the parent but; 
 through the life of the child* . 
 
 So much courage and filial affection in at 
 very young girl, whose tears and extreme 
 agitation enhanced her uncommon beauty, forr 
 a moment diverted the attention of the assas- 
 sins* She perceived that they hesitated, and I 
 seized upon the favorable moment y but while: 
 she entreated for her father's life, one of the : 
 monster$ annexed the following condition r, 
 :^' Drink," said he, "a glass of blood, and; 
 save your father/' Mademoiselle. SombreuiV 
 shuddered, and retreated some paces, yet fi Hall 
 affection gained theascendancy, and she yields- 
 ed to the horrible condition. 
 
 *' Iimoeent-^^ or guilty, then," said' one oi( 
 those who performed the function of Judges^^ 
 ^' it is unworthy of the people to bathe theirr 
 bands in the blood of the old man, since thejc^ 
 xaust first destroy this virtuous girL'* 
 
?0 
 
 A gefieral cry of pardon was heard. The 
 daughter revived by this signal of safety, threw 
 herself into her father's trembfing ai^ms, which 
 scarcely had power to press her to his bosom, 
 and even the most outrageous of the assassins 
 were unable to restrain their tears. The father 
 and daughter were then conducted in triumph 
 Out of the prison. 
 
 Such cruel sufferiags deserved to be follow^ 
 €d by repose ; but where was repose to be. 
 found in those unfortunate times ? Sombreutl 
 and his daughter were again thrown into pri- 
 son, in the month of Nivose, second year of 
 the republic. The affection of Mademoiselk 
 Sombreuil for her father had but increased, and 
 notwithstanding she had been afflicted with 
 frequent convulsions since the violence she had 
 put upon herself in drinking a glass of blood, 
 her courage was not at all abated. When this 
 amiable girl entered her new prison all eyes 
 were fixed upon her. 
 
 Till the month of Floreal, in the third year 
 ^f the Republic, Mademoiselk Sombreuil had 
 the happiness to remain with her father, and 
 
7t 
 
 to soften the rigor of his fate by the assiduity 
 of her services : at that period an order for his 
 trial came from the Committee of General 
 Safety. Ahhough the most afflicting presa- 
 ges pressed upon her heart, she still maintain- 
 ed an appearance of composure before her fa- 
 ther. *' No evil.canhappen^toyou/* she said 
 to hlm^ *^ to you. whose life has been always 
 virtuous* Justice will protect innocence, but 
 
 if " she said no more^ and it was for the 
 
 last time th*t she spoke to her father. Som- 
 /'r£'«/7 perished on the scaffold in the month of 
 Messidor, (JmneJ 2Jid. the existence of his 
 daughter beccime a state worse than that of 
 deaths 
 
 In the prisons where whole families were 
 crowded together, numerous were the instan- 
 ces of filial affection. Desirous only to die 
 together, the members of a family were united 
 together more strongly by sympathy. They 
 consoled each other with the idea that they 
 were about to meet together in a better world, 
 and the passage from this scene of persecution 
 
to a happier state was what seemed" most de-| 
 sirable to them in their cruel circumstances. 
 No doubt the sympathy we speak of added' 
 lustre to the story we are going now to recite.. 
 
 When the ci devant Marchioness de Bob Be- 
 ranger v/2iS detained in the Luxemburgh with' 
 her father, mother, and a younger sister, she 
 forgot her own misfortunes to devote herself- 
 to the support and consolation of her family. 
 A solicitude even maternal seemed to possess, 
 her, while she unceasingly watched over her 
 afflicted mother^ whose sorrows she alleviated 
 by her tenderness, and v/hose drooping forti- 
 tude she animated by her example. At length 
 the act of accusation arrived for the father, 
 mother, and sister ; Madame de Bois Ber anger 
 alone was exempted. The mournful prefer- 
 ence filled her with anguish. " You will die 
 then," she exclaimed, '« before me, and 1 aru: 
 condemned to survive you." Every momer^t 
 encreased her despair, and while she franticly 
 embraced her parents, she perpetually exclaim- 
 ed.- ** Alas! alas ! we shall not die together!'^ 
 
n 
 
 While she thus expressed the transports of 
 her grief, a second accusation was presented, 
 and Madame de Boh Ber anger the person ac^ 
 cused. From that moment there were no 
 more tears, no more exclamations of grief^ 
 from this affectionate woman. Again she flew 
 to embrace her parents. " See," she cried ^ 
 displaying the act of accusation in joyful tri;- 
 umph, as though she held in her hand the 
 decree of their liberty and her own, " see,.my^ 
 mother — we shall die together/* 
 
 On the day of execution she dressed herself 
 with elegance, and cut off the long tresses of 
 her fine hair with her own liand. On leaving 
 the Conciergerie to go to the scaffold, she sup- 
 ported her mother, whose excessive affliction, 
 was the only subject of regret to Madame de^ 
 Bois Beranger. ** Dearest madarn," she said,, 
 in the tenderest accent, '* be consoled. "Why 
 are you not happy ? You die innocent ! In the 
 same innocence all your family follow you; 
 to the tomb, and will partake with you, in a 
 better state, the recompence of virtue,'^ 
 
 It was thus even unto death that Madame 
 de. Boh Beranger was so perfect an example of 
 
74 
 
 fil'*al a^eciion, ariji carried with her to. iha^ 
 grave the consciousness o£ haying mitigated,i 
 by her scalous cares, the sorrows of her pa- 
 rents, and partaken with them th£ last rigors of 
 
 their destiny,. 
 
 Anotiier afTecting instance of filial tender- 
 ness is to be recorded of the family of Fougeret* 
 The Farmer General Fcf/^^r^r had been arrest^ 
 ed for not paying a revolutionary contribution 
 to the amount of 30,000 liyres, and conducted 
 to iht prison of the Madelonettes, where he 
 T^'as regularly visited t^ice a day by his three 
 daughters. These amiable girls adored their 
 father, and desired nothing so earnestly, ex-i 
 cept to see him restored to liberty, as to papi 
 take his misfortunes in their utmost rigor and 
 extent ; nor was the fulfilment of their w^^ish 
 long delayed ; for on Foiigerefs being removed 
 to La Bourbe, on the 29th Frimaire, second 
 year of the republic, his wife and three 
 daughters were committed to the same prison. 
 
 Thus united, though within the walls of a 
 prison, the most entire satisfaction possessed! 
 
•?5 
 
 the minds of the female part of Fougeni^s fami- 
 ly ; they were not merely content viith having 
 attained their desire, they Vvcre even gay and 
 joyful, for their youthful and ardent tempers 
 assured them that all their wishes would be 
 equally prosperous^ and that after being for a 
 time their father*s contolation in captivity, they 
 bhouid a^ain enjoy vvith him the ble-sslngs of 
 home and hberty* But so happy an event ^as 
 not the destined reward of their filial ,piety, 
 Fougerei was guillotined, and whefi lvl<idame 
 Fougersi rushed into the presence of her daugh- 
 ters, exclaiming, ^' your father is deady*^ their 
 shrieks and cries announced to the whole pri- 
 son the idXt <ji Fougeret^ and the wretchedness 
 of his family., 
 
 Shortly afterwards they were set at liberty, 
 and retired from society to weep for the los^ 
 of a father deservedly beloved by his children, 
 ^^.T^d. worthy by his virtues and estimable quali- 
 ties to have possessed the esteem of the \vDrldi 
 
 Madam de Malezcy^ with her father, mo- 
 ther, aad sister, was eagag^gd in reading Sene- 
 
^a on the shortness of life, v>'hcn she was suiii- 
 moned before the Revolutionary Tribunal, 
 8he sav/ the act of accusation delivered also to 
 her parents and sister, and having embraced 
 tliem, she courageously led tfhe way to a gai-ij 
 lery where a multitude of unfortunate persons 
 Were assembled^ waiting their call before the 
 Tribunal of Blood. The attention of Madame 
 -de Ma%cley was instantly attracted by an old 
 man, whoj yielding to the defire of life, and a 
 liorror of his impending destruction, shed 
 torrents of tears. ^* What/^ said Madame de 
 Mazeley^ " are you a raanj and do you weepf 
 I have not less subject for affliction than you-: 
 I am the mother of a family, and am separated 
 from my children till we meet in a better 
 world. Yet, behold !— these are my father, 
 tny mother and my sister; they are going also 
 to death: and shall I weep for an event that 
 leads me to this scene of misery and injustice-, 
 to unite us w^here sorrow and parting shall be 
 no more ? 
 
 All the persons in the gallery now crowd- 
 ed round Madame de Malezey^ eager to receive 
 
77 
 
 the.consolation that her resignation and forti- 
 tude could not fail to inspire. The old man in 
 particular dried his tears, and regarded her as 
 an angel sent from heaven to save him from the 
 bitterness of despair. 
 
 Madame de Malezey continued to possess her 
 courage, and to give the same lively instances 
 of affection towards her parents after their mu- 
 tual condemnation. While they waited in the 
 apartment from whence they were to be con- 
 ducted to the scaffold, she produced a pair of 
 scissars she had kept concealed, and approach- 
 ing her mother, said, " Allow me to cut off 
 your hair, Madam, such an office better suits 
 a daughter than an executioner." She ren- 
 dered the same service to her father and sister, 
 and then presenting to the latter the scissars, 
 entreated she would perform the like friendly 
 act for her, as the last token of their attach- 
 ment. 
 
 With equal firmness and tranquility of soul 
 Madame de Malezey approached^ the place of 
 execution, ascended the scaffold, and yielded 
 herself to the stroke of death. 
 
 H 
 
Madame Lachaheaussiere had the misfortune 
 to marry oriQ of her daughters to a man un- 
 principled and barbarous enough first to aban- 
 don his wife, and afterv/ards denounce her 
 5vhole family as Counter-revolutionists. The 
 accusations of this monster brought M. Laeba- 
 heaussisre to the scaffold, imprisoned Madams 
 Lachaheaussiere with uncommon rigor at La 
 Bourbe, and shut up the two unoffending 
 daughters at St, Pelagie. 
 
 Ihe lovely, interesting, but most unfortu- 
 nate wife of this abandoned man was over- 
 whelemed with affliction at the evils she had 
 innocently been the cause of bringing upon 
 her famJly, and after innumerable micmorials 
 and solicitations, she obtained the favor of be- 
 ing removed from St. Palagie to La Bourbe, 
 where she expected, as the only possible con- 
 solation of her misery, to be allowed to attend 
 upon her mother. At this time she was far 
 advanced in her pregnancy. 
 
 For several days after her arrival at L^ 
 Bourbe she was not permitted to visit the dun- 
 geon where her mother was kept close prisons 
 
7f 
 
 cr, and this deprivation, together with her 
 knowledge of the severity with which Madame 
 Lachaheaussiere was treated, added so greatly 
 to her affliction, that she frequently manifeft- 
 ed symptoms of a disordered intellect — One 
 day, however, Madame Lachaheaussiere "^2.% led 
 from her dungeon into the common room of 
 the prison — instantly her daughter throws her- 
 self into her arms, and during a long interval, 
 they can only give utterance to sighs and tears^ 
 But these precious moments were speedily in- 
 terrupted by the hard-hearted and inflexible 
 Jailors ; the mother was led back to her cell, 
 and the unhappy daughter plunged into a fit of 
 delirium. 
 
 From that hour her lucid Intervals became 
 less frequent ; yet, absorbed even in madness 
 with the remembrance of her misfortunes, she 
 sought only her mother ; her eye wandered 
 from face to face in search of that well beloved 
 countenance ; if she was spoken to, she seldom 
 heard or understood, yet v/as so perfectly 
 harmless that they had no pretence to abridge 
 her of the common liberty of the prison. If^ 
 
\o 
 
 for an instant, she forgot her sorrows, and sar 
 down to attempt some needle-work, or other 
 GGcupation, she would suddenly rise, east her 
 work from her with indrgnatron, and hastily 
 traverse the galleries till she arrived at the door 
 of Madame Lachabeanssiereh cell, where she 
 would listen in breathless agitation for some 
 sound that should assure her of her mother's 
 existence. If the silence within was profound, 
 she would weep and bemoan herself in low and 
 plaintive exclamations. If Mada?ne Lacha- 
 heaussiere walked or made any noise, which the 
 aifeetionate creature could hear, she would- 
 eagerly call to her ^through the door, and re- 
 main whole hours extended on the threshold, 
 to repeat, "0/6/ my moth er^ my dear .^ my unfor- 
 tunate viother ! Her voice was sometimes 
 fraught with the moving accents of sorrow^ 
 at others betrayed only the wild discord of in- 
 sanity. 
 
 By degrees the beauty of her person became 
 impaired ; she was no longer capable of attend- 
 ing to- nicety, or the decorums of dress — her 
 hair hung disheveled upon her shouWerSj and 
 
8i 
 
 by her continual practice of sleeping without 
 any covering upon her head, it soon lost its 
 fine texture and its glossy hue. 
 
 At every meal she constantly set aside the 
 greatest part of her allowance for her mother, 
 and in this one instance was certainly the 
 means of prolonging the existence of Madame 
 Lachabeaus sieve, who, confined apart from the 
 rest of the prisoners, was frequently neglected 
 for days together, till her daughter came to 
 rouse the attention of the jailors by her ever 
 watchful solicitude* 
 
 One day, when this hapless creature had col- 
 lected the portion of the day's provisions she 
 had destined for her mother, she entreated for 
 liberty to pass into Madame Lachabeaussiere^t 
 dungeon. It happened that the jailors were 
 seated at table, regaling themselves with a ra- 
 goo of hare, when this young woman, so in- 
 teresting by her tenderness, so attractive by 
 her graces, and so pitiable by her situation^ 
 appeared among them to solicit an indulgence 
 then almost daily granted to her^ 
 
 H z 
 
" Away," said one of the troop, *' let yoi 
 mother wait! we are not her valets V 
 
 She burst into tears. 
 
 *^ So you cry, do you," said another; 
 *' well, I am very tender hearted, and I will ; 
 put myself to some inconvenience to oblige 
 you, but on two conditions — that you come 
 and eat out of my plate, and drink out of my 
 glass." 
 
 In vain did she strive to represent her dis- ' 
 gust of such a demand. During her pregnan- 
 cy too, she had entertained an invincible aver- 
 sion to hare, and to eat from the plate, or drink 
 wine from the glass of this man, seemed not 
 less abhorrent to her feelings than to swallow 
 poison. " Very well! very well !" said they^ 
 ** no keys, then.'* 
 
 Filial affection rendered even such a humili- 
 ation supportable ; she yielded to the conditi- 
 ons, amidst the coarse laughter and indecent 
 raillery of the jailors, and half an hour after- 
 wards obtained the price of her submission, in 
 being adiaitted to carry the food, and to re- 
 
83 
 
 main a few minutes in the presence of her m<if 
 ther. 
 
 At length she was delivered within the pri- 
 son of a female child. In vain Madame Lacha^ 
 beaussiere implored permission to attend her 
 daughter, her prayer was brutally repulsed, 
 and so inflexible in cruelty were her jailorsj 
 that they even refused to let her see the infant. 
 
 On the 9th Thermidor, (July 28th, 1795,) 
 all that remained of the family of Lachabmus-^ 
 siere were released from imprisonment, and de- 
 livered from the tyranny and oppression to 
 which they had been so long subjugated. 
 
 The intellects of Madame de Roxambcait were 
 unsettled by the griefs to which she devoted 
 herself after the execution of her husband. 
 Neither the consoling influence of her father, 
 (the virtuous Malesherbes^J nor the tender ca- 
 resses of her daughter, were able to calm the 
 distraction of her mind. Yet when the act of 
 accusation was presented, which comprised 
 both her and her father, she appe^ed sudden- 
 
84 
 
 ly to call together her wandering faculties. 
 She hastened to find Mademoisselle Sombreuil^ 
 and addressed these words to her in a tone of 
 rapture. 
 
 " Ah ! Mademoiselle, you had once the hap- 
 piness to save your father, and I — am going to 
 die with mine.'* 
 
 This ray of reason was soon extinct forever. 
 She went unconsciously to prison, and died 
 upon the scaffold without appearing to under- 
 stand her fate.. 
 
 Not only In the prisons of France did the 
 consolations of filial affection blunt the arrows 
 of mibfortune, but wherever the jealous go- 
 vernment carried their terrors and proscripti- 
 on, this honored sentiment either averted the. 
 threatened danger, or weakened the sense of 
 calamity to parents. 
 
 A Prisoner, whose name was I)ell€glace^vj^% 
 ordered to be conveyed from Lyons to the 
 Conciergerie at Paris. His daughter, who had' 
 
85 
 
 never quitted him a moment from the time of 
 his arrest, desired perniis!-;ion to travel with him 
 In the carriage prepared for his journey. This 
 boon she could not obtain ; but what obstacles 
 Can subdue the strength of filial love ? Mads' 
 moiselle Deleglace^ notwithstanding the weakness 
 of her constitution, and laying aside the timidi- 
 ty natural to her sex, set off on foot with the 
 carriage, which she accompanied in that man- 
 ner for more than an hundred leagues ; she 
 sometimes quitted the side of the carriage, but 
 It was only when she preceded her father, to 
 procure proper nourishment for him in the 
 towns through which they passed, and in the 
 evening of every day, when she ran forward- 
 to beg of some charitable person a covering, to 
 administer to her father's wants, in the dun- 
 geon where he must pass the night* 
 
 The gates of the Coiiciergerie, which she- 
 reached at the same time with her father, now 
 excluded him from her sight. Still the forti- 
 tude of this extraordinary woman did not give 
 way. She had been accustomed to subdue the 
 ferocity of jailors, and she could not be per- 
 
S6 
 
 saaded that she should plead far justiGe in vam 
 before magistrates. Every morning for three 
 months, she implored the justice and humanity 
 of some who had influence, and her virtuous 
 pefseverence was rewarded with her father *& 
 liberation, 
 
 "What pen can express the excessive joy of 
 this happy girl when she carried the tidings to 
 her father ? Exulting in her success, she nexr. 
 thought of conducting him back to his home 
 and family. She fell ill in an Inn on the road, 
 worn out, no doubt, with the excess of fatigue 
 during this unparalleled exertion. She had 
 not the good fortune to witness the utmost 
 benefit of her enterprise^ she never quitted her 
 bed, but died in her father's arms, still deem- 
 ing herself happy to have saved his life at tht 
 expence of her ov/n* 
 
 During the war of Ea Vendee the ci-devant 
 Duke de la Rochefoucault^ condemned to die, as 
 was also his daughter, found in the resources 
 of that affectionate girl the means of conceal- 
 ing himself till a period arrived more favorable 
 
8; 
 
 to that justice which he successfully claimed* 
 His daughter's first care was to place him un- 
 der the roof and protection of an artisan, who 
 had formerly been a domeflic in the Duke's 
 service, after which she procured an asylum 
 for herself* They were thus both secured 
 from the immediate power of their persecutors, 
 but as the Duke's property was confiscated, 
 and as compassion is apt to grow weary of its 
 good offices, the means of their bare subsist- 
 ence were soon worn out. While the daus^h- 
 ter was suffering under the extreme of poverty, 
 she learnt that her father's health was declining 
 for want of due nourishment. She now saw 
 no way but to devote her life to save her fa- 
 ther's, and she instantly made the resolve. 
 
 A general of the Republic at that very time 
 was passing through the city in which was her 
 place of concealment, and to him she wrote the 
 following letter: 
 
 *' CITIZEN GENERAL, 
 
 ** Wherever the voice of nature is heard, a 
 daughter may be allowed to claim the compas- 
 sion, of men in behalf of her father. Condemn- 
 
88 
 
 ed to death at the same time with him who 
 gave me being, I have successfully preserved 
 him from the sword of the executioner, and 
 have preserved myself to watch over his safe- 
 ty. But in saving his life, I have not been 
 able to furnish all that is necessary to support 
 him. My unhappy father, whose entire pro- 
 perty is confiscated, suffers at this moment the 
 want almost of every thing. Without clothes, 
 without bread, without friend to save him from 
 perishing of waiit^ he has not even the resource 
 of the beggar, which still furnishes a little hope, 
 that of being able to appeal to the compassion- 
 ate, and to present his white hairs to those 
 that might be moved to give him aid : my fa- 
 ther, if he is not speedily succoured, will die in 
 his place of concealment, and thus, after snatch- 
 ing him from a violent death, I shall have to 
 sustain the mournful reflection of having be- 
 trayed him to one more lingering and pain- 
 ful — that of dying of cold and hunger, 
 
 ** Be the judge, Citizen General, of the ex- 
 tent of my misfortune, and own that it is wor- 
 thy of pity. Oae resgurgc ciily is left tg me. 
 
89 
 
 if 
 
 It is to cast myfelf upon your generosity. I 
 offer you my head, I undertake to go, and to 
 go willingly, to the scaffold, but give imme- 
 diate succour to my dying father. Below I 
 give you the name of my place of conceal- 
 ment, there I will expect death with pleasure, 
 if I may promise myself that you will be 
 touched with my prayers, and will relieye my 
 old and destitute parent.'* 
 
 The soldier had no sooner read this letter 
 than he hastened to the asylum of Madame 
 <de Rochefoucaulty and not only relieved her fa- 
 ther, but secretly proteded both, and after the 
 9th Thermidor^ procured the restoration of 
 I\'L de Kochefcucaulf s property by a revision of 
 their sentence. 
 
 Filial affedion did not always find hearts 
 equally disposed to be overcome by its ardent 
 temper. During the counter-revolutionary 
 struggles in the south, this sentiment, powefa 
 ful as it is, could not touch the hearts of men 
 drunk with religious zeaU A republican^ 
 
 i 
 
iBls ting uished lor the probity and firmness witbti 
 which he had filled several offices in his de^ 
 partment, was one day surprised in the neigh-i 
 bourhood of his house by a horde of rebels.: 
 Wounded in several places, he could only 
 gain the threshold of his door upon which he| 
 fell. Drawn by the noise, his daughter, a' 
 girl about fifteen years of age, approached and 
 saw her father lying bathed in his blood, and 
 contending with the pangs of death. With a 
 shriek of -horror she threw herself on her fa- 
 ther's body. Meantime the murderers reach 
 the door, raise her by force, mocked her feel- 
 ings, and treat her with a thousand indigni- 
 ties. The girl, insensible to all but her father's 
 situation, escapes from their hands, snd again 
 throws herself upon his body, endeavoring by 
 her cries to obtain some sign of hfe and feel- 
 ing from him. Fruitless were her efforts, her 
 father was already dead, and it was not long 
 before the horde put an end also, by repeated 
 blows, to her existence. 
 
 Who has not heard, and who has not shed 
 4:<jars, at hearing of that beautiful and interes^t-- 
 
9^ 
 
 ing grri, of only eight years of age, who went- 
 every morning to the Place de la Revolution tO' 
 mourn and lament the death of her mother^, 
 who was executed there ? This child took ma- 
 ny precautions to escape observation ; but her/ 
 manner was at length noticed by some womea 
 who sold fruit near the spot. Being asked the 
 cause of her tears, " Ah!" she said, " my 
 poor mother whom I loved so well, died where 
 I now stand ; but, oh, do not, I beg of you^, 
 tell any one that you saw me cry ; for that 
 perhaps would cause the death of my brother 
 and my sisters V' 
 
 i\fter this guileless answer, which greatly 
 affected her audience, she hastily retired, and 
 was never seen there again. It was after=. 
 wards known that this early victim of filial af- 
 fection died in a few w^eeks, bowed down by a' 
 grief she could not cast off. 
 
 Another child not more than five years of 
 age, was well known in one of the prisons of 
 Lyons as the sole consolation of her father till^ 
 
92 
 
 Be fell under the hand of the executioner. 
 Every day at morning and evening, this little 
 girl, light, airy, abounding with sallies of in- 
 fantine intelligence, witharextremely affecti- 
 onate, ^nd possessing also a most beautiful 
 form, came to ihe prison, to play with, and 
 amuse her father. It was in vain that the jail- 
 ors resolved to resist her little advances to gain 
 their good will, she almost alv/ays prevailed 
 and obtained leave to Qnter, If they gave a 
 downright refusal, she then had recourse to 
 little stratagems, waiting with constancy at the 
 gate, and taking an opportunity when three or 
 four persons entered the prison, to glide in 
 among them, and then running with all her 
 speed to her father, whom she would embrace 
 a thousand times, caress in the tenderest man- 
 ner, and with whom she successively laughed 
 snd cried. 
 
 This child seemed to have entered with al- 
 most incredible sagacity into the nature of hei^ 
 father's situation, and to comprehend the ne- 
 cessity there w^as for diverting his mind from 
 its sorrows. She related to him every little 
 
93 
 
 agreeable story she.could collect, the news 
 most talked of in her neighborhood, and the 
 little anecdotes of her family. Nor was her 
 father only relieved; by her prattle, she afford- 
 ed amusement to every one of the prisoners, 
 and when she quitted them, she undertook 
 their little commissions in the town," From 
 this child was her unfortunate father torn- 
 away. 
 
 .■i«-<"^-^^*^»^>. >.» 
 
 A family which had formerly enjoyed a high- 
 rank and great oppulence in France, retired 
 to live in poverty and obscurity into the coun- 
 try, a little distance from Dijon, Two chil- 
 dren belonging to this family had been takea 
 into the protection of relations in more com- 
 petent circumstances. The eldest son, oblig- 
 ed to serve in the army, left at home only one 
 sister, who by her sole labor supported an in- 
 firm father, and a mother become blind with 
 grief and excessive labor. Reduced by de- 
 grees to the last distress, the aged mother re- 
 solved to go to Dijon to ask for relief from the 
 . xnunicipality. She was led thither by her 
 
 daughter, but, ia the interval that passed be*' 
 
 Is 
 
94 
 
 fore she could obtain an audience, she and her 
 daughter were compelled to traverse the streets 
 of Dijon^ to beg alms of the compassionate to 
 save them from absolutely starving. 
 
 Being admitted to. the municipality, the 
 mother unfolded her situation, with that of 
 her husband and children^ 
 
 *^ It is no more than just," said the presi- 
 dent, after hearing her story, " to give some 
 relief to this woman, and I have no doubt 
 that we shall each of us feel a pleasure in per- 
 forming our duty in this .instance.'* 
 
 
 I, gracious God V* exclaimed the 
 blind woman, " whose voice is that I hear ^ 
 Do I find our good Benedict here ? Ah ! I can- 
 not doubt it, it is certainly Benedict himself.'* 
 
 The Municipal Officer, in fact, who had 
 just spoken, had formerly been groom to the 
 father of the very woman who was now so- 
 liciting charity. Finding himself discovered 
 by her, he was silent, lest he should confirm 
 the suppliant in her opinion j but the poor 
 niifortun^ts womsu 5^§§umins new cpyrage 
 
95^ 
 
 from this ciTcumstance, and thinking to en* 
 force her claims by further appeal to this man, 
 said, "Ah! my dear i?^;2c'(i;Vi'j. have the good- 
 ness to spe^k a word in favor of thy former 
 mistress. Call to mind that thou wast receiv- 
 ed a child by them and ever treated with kind- 
 ness, and have pity, on us now in- this moment: 
 of our distress." 
 
 As she spoke thesewords the^blood rushsd- 
 into the face of the president, and his eyes 
 rolled with fury,. " What is the meaning, 
 my good woman, of this language ?" said he, 
 aifecting moderation in his voice,. " my name 
 is not Benedict J ^ 
 
 " Ah ! forgive me, citizen,'^ replied the 
 poor woman, " if I am mistaken. The un- 
 fortunate are always ready to meet with those 
 they have known in better days, and your 
 
 voice is so Hke that of our Benedict If I 
 
 had had the happiness to have preserved my 
 eye- sight, I should have known him any where 
 by his high chest, his large mouth, his hol- 
 low and dark eyes, and his long and skinny 
 fingers.' 
 
 j> 
 
55 
 
 Unfortunate woman ! slae.-^asL drawing thl 
 portrait t^f the president. Her daughter piuck- 
 jed her by the gown, and ...the former groom- 
 darted at herilooksrof rage. " Godd-wc- 
 man/' he said at last, a little recoYering; 
 himself, " we shall pay attention to your peti^ 
 tion ; you may retire now/- 
 
 ¥7hat had passed did not fail to become 
 the. news of thC' day all over the city of 
 Dijon, the ridicule towhich it subjected the 
 municipal oilicer, infianied the desire of ven- 
 geance, of which he already meditated the 
 means, and to consign to death the author of 
 the history which he had been so anxious to ■ 
 keep secret from the world, was what he re-- 
 solved upon. He conveyed to the Revoluti- 
 onary Committee a denunciation, declaring; 
 the woman pretending to be blind, and for 
 some days past traversing the streets, led by 
 her daughter, to be a Counter-revolutionistg 
 formerly a woman of quality, and coming to 
 Dijon expressly to pave the way to the return 
 of royalty. This cruel denunciation had its ^ 
 full sifect: the blind woman v/as arrested^ 
 
97 
 
 and a very few days afterwards condemned to 
 die for having cpnspired to overthrow the re- 
 public. 
 
 This poor woman heard her sentence with 
 the most perfect fortitude. Her daughter^ 
 permitted to attend her, never quitted her for 
 a moment. '* My dear child /' said the mo- 
 ther, as she prepared to go to the scaffold, 
 '• I knev/ that you would not leave me in this 
 last moment of my life." Profound sighs 
 were the only answer of the daughter. She 
 assumed courage, however, to walk by the 
 side of the cart that conveyed the poor wo- 
 man to the place of execution, and neither 
 her strength nor resolusion failed tlil her mo-- 
 ther ceased to Hve. She then fainted a way 3. 
 and a few days after fell a prey to her sorrow». 
 
€HAP. IV: 
 
 INSTANCES OF AFFECTION IN SISTERS. 
 FOR THEIR BROTHERS. 
 
 HERE is no one generous sentiment o£ 
 the human mind which has not been ex- 
 alted by the conduct of women during the re- 
 volution to an extraordinary degree. The af^ 
 fection which forms the title of this chapter, 
 has also displayed its prodigies, and some of 
 the actions it has occasioned well deserve to, 
 be recorded. 
 
 The sister of a bookseller named Gattey^ 
 expected his trial, in wiiich his life was involv- 
 ed, patiently waiting for the sentence that 
 was to determine the fate of a beloved brother 
 and her own. Mistress of herself, and sole, 
 depositary of the secret which, supported her. 
 through this scene, she mingled in a seem- 
 ingly careless manner v/iththe audience, en- 
 tirely unobserved by any one j but no sooner 
 had she heard her brother sentenced to die;,. 
 
99 
 
 ■than she shauted aloud, and repeatedly, Vive 
 k Roi, declaring that she would die with her 
 brother. The tribunal did not afford her that 
 jiiournful satisfaction. Her death was post- 
 poned to the following day, when she sub- 
 mitted to it with the most perfect tranquility. 
 
 In those dreadful days of human sacrifice 
 v/hich immediately preceded the 9th Thermi-' 
 dor^ (July 2^\h^^ a jailor made his usual visit 
 among the persons confined in the prison of 
 the street de Seves, to summon the destined 
 victims to the scaffold. He ordered, that all 
 the prisoners should appear before him in the 
 court of the prison, and appeared to enjoy 
 with a savage delight the spectacle of those 
 who lingered trembling on the stairs, and of 
 the weeping mothers vvho soothed and console 
 ed their affrighted children. For some mi- 
 nutes did the attrocious man permit these un- 
 fortunate persons to endure the terrors of a 
 suspence so awful, ere with a loud and stern 
 voice he pronounced the name of Maille, A 
 &male instantly making her way through the 
 
crowd, besought the compassion of all the per^ 
 sojis she passed for her orphan children, and 
 presenting herself before her jailor^ demanded 
 if she was the condemned person. On the jail- 
 or's referring to his list and reading aloud, she 
 found that neither the christian name, nor the 
 maiden name by which also the victim was de- 
 scribed, belonged to her. The jailor perceiv- 
 ing his mistake, hastily interrogated her con- 
 cerning the abode of the person he ought to 
 have arrested. It v^as her sister-in-law. 
 
 '^ I d'-> not wish to die,*' $2^id Madame Mail' 
 
 /f,, " but I should prefer death a thousand 
 
 times to the shame of saving my life at the 
 
 ■^ expense of her's. I am ready to follow 
 
 you." 
 
 Happily the commission of the jailor did 
 not extend to far, and the 9lh ThermidGr' 
 restored this generous woman to her family, | 
 who had not hesitated to secure the happi' 
 ness of her brother by the sacrifice of her| 
 own life. 
 
 One of the. finest models of afFection thai 
 France has beheld during the reYQlutioa^ h 
 
101 
 
 that of the Princess Maria Helena EUzaheth^ 
 so constantly and nobly displayed during the 
 misfortunes which overwhelmed her brother 
 and his family. 
 
 This princess was the eighth and last child 
 of Louis XV. and of Maria Josepba oi Sax- 
 ony, his second wife 5 but she had liLtle cause 
 to felicitate herself in being placed so near 
 the throng, the least of her misfortunes was 
 that of passing her youth and the age of hap- 
 piness, under those restraints which the poli- 
 of governments lay upon the females of blood 
 royal. But if Elizabeth was denied the pri- 
 vilege of marrying, otherwise than as a state 
 convention, it has been said, that seduced by 
 examples, she yielded in secret to the licentl* 
 ous disorders of the court ^ yet, whatever 
 imputations the breath of calumny may have 
 spread upon her fame, her worst enemies 
 must unite to admire and praise the benevo- 
 lence of her heart, and her tender and gener- 
 ous affection for Louis XVL her brother, and 
 this unhappy queen. 
 
I©3 
 
 It is already well known that she refused 
 the pressing solicitations of her aunts to ac- 
 company them to Italy. No remonstrances, 1 
 no entreaties, could induce her to change her 
 fixed determination to partake the misfortunes 
 and dangers of her brother : and with what 
 an affecting constancy did she fulfil her vow, 
 
 during th€ long series of calamities that at 
 length conducted the heads to this unfortunate 
 family to the scaffold ! — We shall particularly 
 instance her courageous exertions on the 20th 
 of June, when, beneath the lifted poignards 
 of assasins, she gave the -sublimiest example of 
 sisterly affection* 
 
 During the early scenes of that .celebrated 
 day, the Princess Elizabeth inflexibly followed 
 the steps of her brother. At one time, when 
 the crowd around him augmented every mo- 
 ment, and menaces resounded from all parts, 
 some voices demanded the Queen with horrid 
 imprecations, " Where., where is she !'' they 
 cried. '' We will have her head." Elizabeth 
 turned towards the murderers^ and said, with 
 firmness, ^* I am the Queen.*' 
 
IO-3 
 
 Her terrified attendants hastily pressed for- 
 ward to declare she was non the Queen. 
 
 " Pardon me gentlemen," said the princess 
 to them, " I beseech you will not undeceive 
 these men. Is it not better they should shed 
 my blood than that of my sister P" 
 
 No distinctions of party can detract from 
 the grandeur of such sentiments. Every 
 heart that is accessible to the feelings of hu- 
 manity must applaud her heroism, and regret 
 that this couragious, tender, and celebrated 
 woman, was not born to a happier fate. 
 
 'When the royal family were prisoners in 
 the Temple^ the princess Elizabeth was thei? 
 guardian angel, who fortified and animated 
 them by the example of her resignation.' Ilei' 
 thoughts never appeared to have herself for 
 their object, as long as her brother, her sis- 
 ter, and their children, remained to be reliev- 
 ed by her attentions, and consoled by her af- 
 fection. 
 
 \ 
 
 By an unparralled refinement of crudTtyj 
 
 they deferred passing sentence upon the Pm-- 
 
1C4 
 
 eess Elizabeth to the year 1794. Her piety] 
 enabled her to endure this long and agonizinj 
 interval, and she appeared before her Judgee 
 with a placid countenance, and listened to the 
 sentence of death with unabated firmness. 
 
 As she passed to the place of execution, 
 her hankerchief fell from her neck, and ex- 
 posed her in this situation to the eyes of the 
 multitude. She addressed these words to the 
 executioner. " In the name of modesty I 
 entreat you to eover my bosom.'' 
 
 The city of Lyons^ during the bloody ex- 
 ecutions which followed the reduction of that 
 place by the Jacobins, affords also striking 
 and memorable examples of that aiTection we 
 are nov/ celebrating. 
 
 One day a young girl rushed into the hall 
 where the Revolutionary Tribunal was held, 
 and threw herself at the feet of the judges. 
 
 ** There remains to me,'' she cried, " of 
 all my. family only my brothers. You are 
 
I05 
 
 abouc to condemn them to death— Ah! in pity, 
 in mercy^ ordain that I shall expire with 
 them." 
 
 Her prayer, accompanied as it was with 
 all the marks of frantic despair, was refused. 
 She threw herself into the Rhone where she 
 perished. 
 
 .■<..<,.<..<»|fj^i|i>.>..>.>.. 
 
 In the same city, and at the same epoch, 
 the sisters of a young man who was cast into 
 prison, sacrificed a considerable part of their 
 fortune to purchase an opportunity of passing 
 into their brother's dungeon, and carried 
 him at the hazard of their lives, such instru- 
 ments as would enable him to effect his escape. 
 
 The young man was as successful as bold 
 m the enterprise, and with the assistance of 
 four of his companions in misfortune, he and 
 they passed undiscovered from their dungeon. 
 
 There remained for the sisters of this un- 
 happy youth another effort not less important^ 
 und perhaps more difficult than the former— 
 
io6 
 
 that was,^ to conceal their brother from the dS 
 ligent fearch the government caused to b( 
 made for him. They performed this duty 
 with as much ingenuity as affection^ and af- 
 ter a long interval of danger and alarm, had 
 the joy to see him outlive his perils, and re- 
 stored to liberty and happiness. 
 
 it^»>->->->" 
 
 It was the practice at Nanies and other pla- 
 ceSj to put a number of condemned persons 
 onboard a vessel, and siiik them in the river. 
 During these terribledrownings, a young girl, 
 whose brother had been arrested^ repaired to 
 the house of Carrier to implore his protection 
 in behalf of her brother. " Vv hat age is he ?'* 
 asked Carrier. " Ihirty-six years." — So 
 much the worse y he must die, and three- 
 fourths of the persons in the same prison with 
 him..'' 
 
 At this horrible answer the poor girl' knelt 
 before the Proconsul, and declaimed empha- 
 tically against ihe barbarity of his conduct. 
 Carrier ordered her to leave the house, and 
 
toy 
 
 even brutally struck her with the scabbard of 
 his sabre. Scarcely however had she left his 
 apartment when he called her back to inform 
 her, that if she would yield to his desires he 
 would spare the life of her brother. His pro- 
 position filled her with disdain, and re-tored 
 her to courage ; she replied, that, ''she had 
 demanded justice, and justice was not to be 
 bought with infamy." 
 
 She retired, and learning that her brother 
 ,was on the point of being conducted to one 
 of those dreadful boats at Faimh.auf^ she rati 
 again to the Proconsul, hopeless now of his 
 life, and entreating only that she might be al- 
 lowed to give something to her brother that 
 might support him on the way. 
 
 " Begone," replied Carrier^ ^' he has no 
 need of any support." 
 
 The brother of this unfortunate girl went 
 to Paimbeau/y but before he had perished his 
 sister was no more* 
 
:o8 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 SACRIFICES MADE BY THE AfFECTION 
 OF LOVERS. 
 
 HE Revolutionary Tribunal at Toulousi^ 
 had condemned to death a young mer- 
 chant of that city named Causse. As it was- 
 night when his sentence was pronounced, the 
 execution . was postponed til) the following 
 morning. A young woman, whom he was.^ 
 soon to marry, formed a plan from this unex- 
 pected circumstance, from which she drew 
 the greatest hopes of saving his life, ^.he 
 had already disposed of a large share of her 
 property to bribe those who might be of ser- 
 vice on his trial. With the remains of her 
 fortune she hastened to the proprietor of an 
 uninhabited house, which joined the w^all of 
 the dungeon in which her lover was to pass 
 the night, and having purchased the house, 
 she repaired thither vath a female servant, on 
 whose fidelity she could perfectly rely. After 
 
1 09 - 
 
 many hours passed In unheard of labor and : 
 perseverance, they pierced the wall contigu-- 
 ous to the prison, and then found little diffi-- 
 Gulty in making a passage large enough for the 
 escape of tlie young man. 1 here v;as still a 
 danger to incur, of the most imminent kind. 
 The prison was surrounded with corps de garde. 
 For this also the young woman had prepared. 
 She had taken v/ith her military dresses, and 
 giving one to her lover, and being herself 
 clothed in the uniform of a Gendarmes she 
 acted the part of a guide, and conducted him 
 in safety by several centinels. In this manner 
 they traversed great part of the city, and 
 
 passed even within sight of the place where 
 the scaiFold was already preparing for his 
 execution. 
 
 A young man of Bordeaux^ cast Into one 
 of the prisons of that city, fell ill, and be- 
 came every day more and more reduced by 
 the unwholesome air of his dungeon. Being 
 removed to the hospital, he was attended by 
 a young lay sister, named Theresa. The. 
 
young man, whose name was Du Bois^ posser- 
 sed a fine and interesting figure, and he soon 
 inspired his benefactress with a sentiment still 
 more tender than the humanity which was 
 the first cause of her cares. 
 
 The habit of being frequently with him^ 
 and of hearing him converse, but above all 
 her compassion for his misfortunes, which 
 she took a delight in making him relate almost 
 every day, produced in her mind the firm re- 
 solution to attempt his escape at every hazard. 
 Having communicated her design to him, but 
 without, disclosing her passion^ it was resolY^ 
 ed that he should fain violent convulsions, and 
 and after some time appear to be dead. 
 
 Every thing succeeded in the happiest man« 
 ner. Sister "Theresa loudly deplored the death 
 of her patient, and when the physician camehis 
 rounds, informed him that he had just expi- 
 red. The physician turned his back, and 
 went out without suspecting the stratagem. 
 When the evening began to close, Iheresa 
 pretended that the body of her patient was. 
 
Ill ^ 
 
 ordered to be given to the pupils of the hos- 
 pital for dissection, and caused the young 
 man to be carried into the room set apart 
 for that purpose, by some who were in her 
 confidence. Every means of success she had 
 prepared v/ith equal zeal and foresight j in 
 the room were deposited the clothes of a sur- 
 geon to whom she had entrusted the secret, 
 and Du Bcis having put these on, escaped 
 without being observed by any one. 
 
 A stratagem of this nature, though con-" 
 Sucted with peculiar address, could not fail to 
 transpire; it was in fact discovered the next 
 day. Sister Theresa w^as interrogated, and 
 too happy to have saved him whom she loved, 
 she was above all dissimulation, and plainly 
 confessed the truth. Her frankness, her ge- 
 nerosity, her beauty, and a remnant of esteem 
 for noble actions, vthich even party violence 
 had not wholly destroyed, induced those to 
 spare her who might have brought her to the 
 .^.caffold. 
 
 The young Du Bois meantime had felt a 
 mutual passion for his benefactress. No soon- 
 
1 1 '2 
 
 cer did he mid himself in security tlian he 
 wrote to her, making a declaration of his 
 love, and beseeching her to repair to his assy- 
 ium. Theresa did net long hesitate. Having 
 made herself assured of the honorable intenti- 
 ons of her lover, she left Bordeaux^ and hav- 
 ing reached Du Bois^s Jiabitation, they both 
 retired secretly into Spain, wher^ the bands 
 of Bymtn completed their happiness. 
 
 •"<•<•■•<"< ^ft^-^ >->■>•>.. 
 
 The actions which love inspired were net 
 always happy in their event. Sometimes they 
 closed in the most mournful consequence. 
 
 A young widow, Madame C- — *— , well 
 known in the department of the North, both 
 by her unusual beauty and her amiable quali- 
 ties, had conceived a most pure and ardent 
 passion for a young officer in the republican 
 army. Included in the proscriptions which 
 at that time deluged the country with blood, 
 the young officer was suddenly taken from 
 his post and imprisoned. On the first news 
 of his arrest, Madame C -"" ' " ^ ran to solicit his 
 
1 1 '' 
 
 4. I J 
 
 Telease ; she was brutally repulsed ; she en- 
 treated for leave to see hirn ; she demanded to 
 be imprisoned with him ; but all was denied 
 her. She flew to his prison, the wiauows of 
 ■which opened into the street, and waited an 
 opportunity to see him. The ofHcer at lengih 
 appeared at one of the windows, and at the 
 sight of him she fainted away. Having re- 
 lumed to herself, she remained several hours 
 with her eyes fixed on the window, although 
 he was no longer there. 
 
 The next morning she returned to the same 
 spot, where she passed the whole day. For 
 several days following she did the same, bid- 
 ding defiance to the weather, which was se° 
 vere, and to the centinels^ still more cruel thaJi 
 the injuries of the air. 
 
 One morning, at the very instant of her ar- 
 rival before the prison, the most horrible of 
 sights struck her eye ; a cart had SQt off for 
 the place of execution. She ran nearer to 
 know if her lover was there, and saw him 
 bound with many other victims. She threw 
 herself upon the horses, trying to stop their 
 
f 14 
 
 course ; she called the spectators to her aid, 
 and besought them to prevent the death of 
 these unhappy people. 
 
 She was seized by some of the guards, who 
 were going to lead her away, but she disen- 
 gaged herself from their hands, and fled back 
 to the cart, upon which she hung, renewing 
 her entreaties to the spectators to rescue the 
 iinfortymate victims, and poured forth impreca- 
 tions upon the satellites of power, reproaching 
 them with their cowardly obedience to the 
 worst of men. Again she conjured them to 
 unite her fate to that of the young ofBcer. The 
 guard appeared resolved to force her away. 
 Then her cries assumed the tone of despera- 
 tion. Perfectly frantic, she seized the sabre of 
 one of the soldiers that pressed round her, and 
 plunged it into her bosom. The blood sprung 
 from the v*'cund. The multitude vvere moved 
 with con^>passion ; even the soldiers were 
 struck with boircr. Ihe young man, for 
 whose sake she_had committed this act, uttered 
 the most piercing groans, and so deplor. ble 
 was his conditioD; thai the companions of his 
 
jfi5 
 
 misfortune for an Instant forgot their own con-* 
 dition to commiserate his wretched fate. 
 
 In a short time however, the body of Ala* 
 dame de C was removed ; the cart proceeded 
 to the place of its destination, and all the con* 
 demned suffered on the scaffold. 
 
 The interesting Madame C — , after being 
 long and passionately attached to a young man 
 by whom she believed herself to be sincerely 
 beloved, had the grief to see him abandon her 
 for a rival, whose beauty and amiable qualities 
 left her no hope of recalling his affections* 
 While she mourned the inconstancy of her 
 lover, they were each arrested, and brought 
 together in the same prison. The heart of 
 Madams C— v/as inaccessible to resentment. 
 In contemplating her lover's misfortunes she 
 forgot his f>erfidy, and even wrote the most af- 
 fecting letters to her rival, in which she as- 
 sured her of her pardon and sympathy, and 
 endeavored to inspire her with a fortitude ai> 
 stedfast a$ her own. 
 
It was not long before Madame C— • learnt 
 tliat an order had been given for the removal 
 of herself and the young man to Paris, In 
 this measure she foresaw the certainty of their 
 condemnaiion, and to escape dying by the 
 Bands of the executioner, she wrote, in con- 
 ;- '"on with her loverj to entreat her rival 
 10 iuriiiih herself with poison, and to be ready 
 atsueli an hour, on a certain spot, which they 
 should pass la their way to the vessel that was 
 to transport them to Farisy where, under pre- 
 tence of bidding them farewel, she might se- 
 cretly convey into their hands the salutary 
 drug: and dreadful as was their commission 
 to this favored rival, she held herself bound to 
 the sacred duty of fulfilling their last wish, 
 though at the hazard of her own life. She 
 appeared at the exact time and place, with the 
 poison concealed ; but new measures had ta- 
 ken place within the prison, Madame C-— and 
 her lover had been carried by land, and were 
 already lodged in the Conciergerie, The lady 
 followed, buther utmostefibrts toobtain access 
 to the prisoners were fruitless. At length she 
 received a letter from the young man, ^ 
 
 
117 
 
 earnestly besought her to allow him a last sight 
 of her on his way to the place of execution. 
 She had already made one great eiFort over 
 her own feelings^ and compelled herself for hi:5 
 sake to the second. The day arrived, she re- 
 paired to a house in the street of SalrJ Honore^ 
 and waited in dreadful agony the moment of 
 their approach, yiQ^iiwhWe Madame C— 
 happy to be near her lover, and happier still to 
 die with him, was tranquil amidst the lamenta- 
 tions of a crowd of v/eeping victims. When 
 the car of death passing through the street of 
 Saint Honore, appeared under the windows of 
 her less happy rival, the young man was heard 
 to express his last vows to the object of his 
 lo vc : Madame C— , with uncommon grace 
 and sweetness, also bade her farewell. She 
 who was about to expire on the scafTold appear- 
 ed even to triumph in her destiny, while her 
 unfortunate rival, in possession of life, youth^ 
 beauty, and the gifts of fortune, sunk in de- 
 spair. She fainted before the cart had yet 
 passed the windows, and ere her senses return- 
 ed, her friend and her lover were no more. 
 
i8 
 
 The conduct of another woman when her 
 lover was condemned to die, was of a differ- 
 ent kind, and deserves to be recorded, as welt 
 for the singularity of the circumstances which 
 gave occasion to it, as the very extraordinary 
 event in which it terminated. 
 
 Sophia IvL was the only daughter of the 
 Count Be M, when the Revolution commen- 
 ced. A little before that period she had lost 
 a brother, the hope of his family. The Coimt 
 De AL had given to the preceptor of his son 
 a house &nd garden m the village of M. of 
 xv-hich he wavS proprietor, together with the 
 free use of his mansion house, as a reward for 
 his care in the education of his son. The 
 jiama of this man v/as Ditrand, Before th.Q 
 le.YoUition he had been an eccksiastic, and 
 till that period had successfully concealed the 
 cliaracter of his mind under an appearance of 
 a rigid probity, and the most devoted attach- 
 ment to his benefactor's family. Nothing 
 was more foreign to his soul. In the j}ro« 
 icription of the Nobles of that rime, he found- 
 ed the desisa of buildincr liis owu fortune?^ 
 
119 
 
 and gratify lug his enormous avarice. He suc- 
 cessfully assumed the mask of patriatisni, 
 and began his enterprize by forming a nume- 
 rous party among the peasants of the neigh- 
 bourhood. As he foresaw that this conduct 
 might render him an object of fear in the 
 house of the Cozmt De M". he had the address 
 to persuade the Gou?2t that what he did was 
 foreign to his feelings, and was done entirely 
 for the interests of his benefactor, and to ac- 
 quire the power of being a mediator between 
 him and the violent party among the people. 
 He managed with so much artifice that he ac- 
 tually produced certain circumstances that 
 convinced the Count that in him he had a se- 
 cret friend, on whose affection, zeal and au- 
 thority he might rely to save hmi from any 
 serious effects of the proscription. 
 
 Thus deceived, the Count had admitted D^-. 
 rand to a still more intimate confidence, and 
 placed in his hands tliQ most sacred secrets of 
 his house. It was now that this hypocrite 
 learnt that the Countess De Af. had a brother^ 
 "who had been a colonel in the regiment of 
 
iSd 
 
 ', and was then an emigrant, and in the 
 serv^e of the princess, with whom she kept 
 up a regular correspondence : that Sophia A'L 
 was violently attached to the Chevalier St> 
 Andre^ who lived retired in a neighbouring 
 chateau^ and that to screen the Chavalier from 
 the requisition, his marriage with Sophia was 
 instantly to take place. He was also informed 
 that the Count De M. had bad an uncle lately 
 deceased in England, leaving him his heir ; 
 but that he might net incur the penalties of 
 an emigrant, he had resolved to postpone to- 
 a more feivorable opportunity his journey to 
 England. 
 
 Upon these facts and many others, the 
 knowledge of which he artfully drew from 
 the County Durand hid the foundations of his 
 guilty enterprise. Unhappily, other events 
 but too well seconded his base designs. Be- 
 come the mavor of his village, afterwards a 
 member of the Revolutionary Committee, 
 and one of the most active agents of the sys- 
 tem of terror, he found it easy to prosecute 
 his scheme at full liberty^ and at his pleasure 
 
to underfmne the fortunes of his benefactorV 
 house. He persuaded the Count, that his de- 
 laying his journey to England, to take pos- 
 session of the fortune left him there, was so- 
 far from being advantageous to him in il^2: 
 puhlick eye, that this circumstance did but 
 render him the more suspected, it being con- 
 fidently reported that he only wished to de- 
 prive his country of a considerable property, 
 and to leave it in the hands of the most in- 
 veterate enemies of the French Revolution. 
 Betrayed by this reasoning, the Count resolv- 
 ed to go to I ngland. Durand procured him 
 the necessary passports, and pretending it as 
 a mark of his affection, recommended to him 
 a domestic, to whom he gave the character 
 convenient to his purposes. 1 his man was 
 an unprincipled wretch, the creature of Du^ 
 randj whose commission was to retain the 
 Count in England under various pretences, till 
 his name should be inscribed on the list of 
 emigrants ; or if the Count should be resolv- 
 ed to return to France, to destroy him by 
 poison. 
 
122 
 
 The Count De M. when he took a mourn'- 
 ful leave cf his family, recommended them 
 to Durand as a sure friend, from whom he 
 expected the most generous services. He 
 besought him to avert from his house the dan- 
 gers which might naturally be expected to 
 threaten it during his absence, and promised 
 him' a reward for these important services, 
 that would enable him to pass the remainder 
 of his days in ease and affluence. 
 
 The base D^r^;^^ seemed to enter cordially 
 into every engagement which the anxioua 
 alarms of his benefactor required, and took 
 his leave of the County invested with entire 
 authority to enter his house whenever he 
 should think ilt, and superintend all its con- 
 cerns. The excessive timidity of the Countess 
 but too rapidly encreased the pov/er of this fa- 
 tal authority. She consented, at the instiga- 
 tion of Durand y and to avoid all suspicion ^ 
 that the letters of her brother, the emigrant, 
 should be addressed to himself, and thus she 
 placed in the hands of this secret enemy a 
 weapon to destroy her at his pleasure. 
 
1^3 
 
 The only individual of this most unfortu- 
 nate family, who had dived into the depths 
 of this wicked man's heart, was Sophia M. 
 S.he had often lamented the cruel necessity 
 that had compelled her parents to place them* 
 selves in the power of Durand ; she had even 
 more than once remonstrated with them on 
 the weakness of their conduct ; but conside- 
 rations more urgent, in appearance, than her 
 suspicions, had as often silenced her argu- 
 ments, and with the rest of the family 
 she had, by degrees, yielded to the authority 
 of this perfidious mediator. 
 
 Durand^ who in a little time saw no obsta- 
 cles to his projects of enriching himself by 
 overthrowing the fortunes of his benefactor, 
 now entertained another passion still more 
 criminal than all that had hitherto occupied 
 his depraved mind. He fed himself with the 
 hopes of enj-^.ying the charms of the amiable 
 Sophia^ and to dishonor her before he destroy, 
 cd her. To accomp ish this he saw that he 
 must 6rst separate her from her mother and 
 the Chevalier de /. Andre* Nothing was more 
 easy lor him to efitct. The correspoiiUence 
 
Gt the Countess with her brother, which he had 
 intercepted and sent to Paris, served his pur- 
 pose with ref^pect to the mother. She was ar- 
 rested by order of the Committee of General 
 Safety and sent to Paris. The Chevalier de 
 Si. Andre he secretly denounced for having 
 withdrav^n himself from the law of requid- 
 tion, and an order arrived to arrest him, and 
 send him to the army. 
 
 In these two events, the entire work of thk 
 consummate villain, he had the address to ap- 
 pear an absolute stranger to their origin. He 
 even acquired from them a greater degree of iu- 
 Huence over his victims, and the two families 
 whom he sacrificed to his passions still imagin- 
 ed that they owed him their gratitude and th ;ir 
 love for the interest he took in their unhappy- 
 fat e<. 
 
 Sophia, now in the hands of the brutal /)^» 
 2'and^ opposed to his passion a resistance made 
 stili more powerful by horror and indignation. 
 To subdue her he was not ashamed to unveil 
 before hei ^'\\ the bhckness of his heart. He 
 cooilv told her that she was mistress of tl : 
 
12:5! 
 
 lives of both her mother and lover, and ^that 
 any longer resistance would deliver them to 
 the scafFold, This declaration discovered at 
 once to Sophia the depth of the abyss into 
 which her whole family, and that of the Che^ 
 "vaiiery were plunged. She resolved at all 
 hazards, if possible, to escape from Durand asi 
 soon as night should arrive. A country lad 
 whom Durand had placed over her as a sp]j 
 and guard, but whom she had moved to com- 
 passion by her tears, contrived the means of 
 her escape, and served as a guide in her flight* 
 
 Sophia \i?idi a friend who resided at Paris ji 
 in the street Saini Florentine, To her she 
 fled, and remained concealed with this friend 
 till the fatal events v;hich we are going to re« 
 late tore her from that asylum. The first was 
 that of the condemnation and execution o£ 
 h^r mother. Various were the means em-? 
 ployed to save her mother in this extremity, 
 and well may the reader imagine her despair 
 when she found all inelFectual. But her mis- 
 fortunes were not yet at their height, lu-^ 
 
 M 
 
Structed by a trusty person of what passed in 
 the house of the Count De M, the young 
 Su Andre could no longer resist his impatient 
 desire to save his n)istress. Without reflect- 
 ing on the consequences of desertion, he re- 
 tired privately to the Count De M's, house, 
 and fram thence to Paris to Sophia, This 
 amiable girl still continued to weep for her 
 mother, when the arrival of St. Andre ag- 
 gravated her misery by exciting new alarms. 
 She received her lover however with unfeign- 
 ed, though momentary transports. Absenccj 
 2cn.d her own sorrows, had rendered him 
 still more dear to her. Alas ! she imagined 
 for a moment she had placed him out of the 
 teach of danger, in the house of a sure 
 friend j but the detestable Durand watched 
 day and night over these unhappy people for 
 iheir destruction* Informed by his agents 
 that the young St, Andre had appeared at M: 
 and again inmiediately taken the rout io Parisj 
 lie wrote to the Revolutionary Committee of 
 the section of the 'JbuiUerks^ denouncing 
 Hm as a deserter. The Committee discovered 
 line asylum of St^ Andre. On hearing of his 
 
I2f 
 
 arrest, Sophia saw the whole extent of her 
 new misfortune, and prepared herself for its 
 encounter with a courage that appeared above 
 her natural strength, greatly impaired by long 
 sufferings ; she had the firmness to attend at 
 the trial of her lover, and without betraying 
 herself, to hear sentence of death against him. 
 Her fortitude carried her still further ; she 
 was present at the execution of Si* Andre ^ 
 she followed his remains to a spot where they 
 were throv/n into a hole with other carcases. 
 She purchased from the avarice of the maa 
 who superintended this species of burial, the 
 head of her lover. She described the head^ 
 and offered a hundred Louis d*ors to the maa 
 for this service. The head is promised to her. 
 She went home for a veil to conceal her prize : 
 she returned alone, wrapt the head in the veil 
 and was retiring home, but her bodily strength 
 was less than the violence of her passion. 
 She^sanE down at the corner of the street 
 Saint Fhreniine^ and betrayed io the affright- 
 ed passengers her deposit and her secret. 
 She was sent to the Revolutionary Tribunal, 
 i ho made a crime of this action, of her birth? 
 
128 
 
 of her fortitude, and even of her misfbr-. 
 tunes. She was taken from the Tribunal im- 
 mediately to the place of executioHj happy i:i 
 contemplating a speedy termination to the 
 long and sorrowful history, of her life. 
 
a-29 
 
 CHAP. VL 
 
 HOSPITALITY. 
 
 'HIS first duty of man in society has been 
 too often dangerous to those by whom it 
 has been exercised. Hospitality, during the 
 proscriptions of Mar'ius and Sylla was convert- 
 ed into a crime against the state. Few were 
 the men who had courage to raise themselves 
 above tyranny in those instances : but in that 
 time, as well as in ours, many women dis« 
 played a courage superior to all hazard, Com« 
 passion, that sentiment which draws the soul 
 towards the unfortunate, was in truth always 
 the superior privilege of women. Their con- ■ 
 stitutions and habits naturally dispose their 
 minds to softness and pity ; sufferings revolt 
 their delicate senses 5 the sight of mJsery 
 alBicts their minds m.ore profoundly than their 
 Gwn proper evils : and therefore it is, that 
 they are more prompt to relieve, and possess - 
 xnore of that sensibility which acts before is^ 
 
 Ms 
 
reasons, and has already performed the office 
 of kindjicssj while man still deliberates. 
 
 When the chiefs of the Gironde pdxtj were 
 fugitives in the south of France, and every 
 ivhere sought that asylum which w^as too often 
 denied them by self. love and cowardicej Cua-^ 
 J^/ found a place of succour and safety in the 
 house of one of his female relations , whose nam e 
 was Bouquet, not only for himself but for hh 
 friend Sal/es, The news of this unexpected 
 relief being, carried to three companions of 
 those proscribed Deputies, they determined 
 to beg this courageous woman to permit them 
 to share in the . r.ctreat of. their friends. A 
 faithful messenger w^as found, and returned 
 in a few hours with the answer : " Let them 
 cornel'^ said she. She only recommended to 
 them not to approach her house till midnight, 
 and to take every possible precaution not to 
 be. perceived by any one. Their safety in her 
 house, which was what occupied her thoughtSg 
 
 depended greatly ou these preliminary condi- 
 tions,. 
 
SJl 
 
 They arrived at midnight. They found 
 their friends lodged thirty feet under ground, 
 in a large vault, whose entrance v/as so perfect- 
 ly masked, that it was impossible for a person, 
 ignorant of th^ circumstance to perceive it. 
 
 However spacious this celler was, the conti„ 
 nual residence of five men corrupted the air, 
 which could not be renewed but with great 
 difficulty- Madame Bouquet contrived in an- 
 other part of the house, a second asylum, more 
 healthy, and almost as secure.^ 
 
 A few days after that, Buzot znd Peiion in- 
 formed them by letter, that having within fif- 
 teen days, seven times changed their place of 
 retreat, they were now reduced to the greatest 
 distress, 
 
 " Let them both come !" exclaimed this ex- 
 traordinary woman, . 
 
 All this time, no one day passed in which 
 she was not menaced with a domiciliary visit ; 
 and no one day passed in which the guillotine 
 did not lay some head in the dust. Too gca-^ 
 
2-32 ■ 
 
 erous not to be suspected, Madajne Bouquet" 
 each day heard the satellites of tyranny swears 
 as they passed her habitation, that they would 
 burn alive in their own houses all who gave 
 shelter to the proscribed Deputies. 
 
 *■• vv ea : ssia sne, *• Let tnose inquisitors 
 come! I am contented, provided you do not 
 take upon yourselves to receive them : all that 
 I fear is, that they will arrest nie j and then-« 
 
 what v/ili become of you ?" 
 
 Petion and Buzot arrived, and then there 
 •were seven of thesn. The difficulty to pro- 
 vide for them was great ^ provisions were ex- 
 tremely scarce in the department. Madame 
 Bouquet* s house was allowed by the Municipa- 
 lity only one pound of bread per day; but for- 
 tunately, she had a stock of potatoes and dried 
 kidney-beans. To save breakfast, it was 
 agreed, that her guests should not rise till 
 noon. Vegetable soup was their whole din- 
 ner. After the day had closed, the Deputies 
 silently and cautiously left their retreat, and 
 assembled round their benefactress. She was 
 
_n the midst of them as a mother among heu 
 children, for whom she devotes her lifci 
 Sometimes a morsel of beef, procured with 
 great difficulty, an Qgg or two, some vegetar 
 bles, and a little milk, formed the supper, of 
 which the hostess eat but little, however en- 
 'treated, the better to support her guests. 
 
 A month- stole away in this. peaceable secur- 
 ity, with which was mingled the soft enjoyment 
 of generous affection and grateful friendship ; 
 when the Deputies had unusual reason to fear 
 for the safety of their benefactress. Thej^ 
 forcibly expressed to her their apprehensions- 
 
 ^* Have I not lived sufficiently long," replied 
 this admirable woman, " having given you 
 shelter ? and is not death all that is to be de* 
 sired when one has done all the good possi- 
 ble I" 
 
 One of the generous circumstances, which 
 adds infinite value to this extraordinary event, 
 was, that Madame Bouquet carefully concealed' 
 as long as she, could from her guests, the un- 
 easiness which-secretly consumed her, occasfi- 
 
c 
 
 ^34 
 
 ©ned by one of her relations, formerly the in- 
 timate friend of Guadet. This man having 
 learned what passed in Madame Bouquet's 
 house, put in action every means his mind 
 could suggest, composed of lies and artifiCes, 
 the fruits of a pusillanimous temper and a mi- 
 serable self love, to induce her to banish the 
 fugitives from her house. Every day he came 
 to her with stories more terrible one than an- 
 other. Sometimes he declared, that he felt 
 himself bound to denounce traitors put out of 
 the sanction of the law y and then he would 
 affect strong remonstrances in behalf of a fa- 
 mily endangered by her imprudent conduct. 
 He sometimes acted as if his mind was disor^ 
 dered by the terrors that on her account he 
 indulged in: and, at length, fearing that he 
 ^vouid take some sudden and desperate mea- 
 sure, endangering the lives of the Deputies 5 
 she felt it justice to them to lay her situation 
 before them. Her voice was almost stifled 
 with grief as she spoke to them. 
 
 There was but one course for the Deputies 
 to take : they resolysd to quit an asylum 
 
 ^n 
 
^35 
 
 ^vhich had been so happy to them ; ard the 
 moment of their separation, so mournful to all, 
 and so fatal and eternal to most of them, was 
 fix^d for the following night. 
 
 Sad effects of civil dissention ! Exemplary 
 Virtue passes for a crime; and, instead of an 
 laltar reared to their glory, those whom it ac- 
 tuates are sent to the scaffold ! 
 
 Suspected of having afforded an asylum to 
 the fugitive Deputies, it was not long before 
 Madame Bouquet was arrested, together with 
 the whole family olGuadei, It is well known 
 U'ith what tenderness and ingenuity the father 
 of that Deputy sought to save his son, who, 
 Fith his fxiend Salles^ had taken refuge under 
 his roof. Carried before the Revolutionary 
 iiribunal of Bourdca:<^ his judges were tco 
 prudent to question this venerable man con- 
 i:€rriing the ccxKe'eslmoit of his son : even they 
 dreaded the touchin^-oice of naiure and the 
 indignation of virtue. Ke was simply abked, 
 why he had given an as)lum to Sallt's: to 
 tjvhich the old man answered by clasping his 
 hands and raising iixzm to heaven. 
 
 'J)H*-. 
 
"Witness of this afflicting scene, Madame 
 Bouquet^ as vehement in her indignation as she 
 had been impassioned in her protection of the 
 Deputies, had not power to listen in silence to 
 such an interrogatory. 
 
 " Yes, monsters!'* she cried, " Beasts of 
 prey, fed with human blood! If humanity, if 
 family affections are crimes, we all merit 
 death.*' I'hrowing herself into the arms of 
 the. elder Guadety she .shed a plentiful shower 
 of tears. ** We have now only to die!" she 
 added, pressing the old man to her bosom. 
 
 This picture, already too interesting to the 
 audience for the wij^hes of the Tribunal, 
 hastily closed the trial. V^hen sentence of 
 death was pronounced, Madame Bouquet sprang 
 over the fence which separated her from the 
 President of the Tribunal, with an intent 
 to seize and destroy hin^ in v/hich, however, 
 she was defeated by tne attendants. When 
 the executioner was about to cut off her hair 
 she cleared herself of his hands, and additi-J 
 onal force was employed to hold her. But] 
 this frenzy of indignaiion was soon calm^^d by 
 
^37 
 
 the oldGuadet, who, folding her mhis ariiiSj 
 brought a flood of tears into her eyes, which 
 relieved her oppressed heart. 
 
 Thus fell this admirable woman, whose 
 magnanimity does as much honor to human 
 p.ature as her execution disgraces the system 
 under which she died ! 
 
 Some time after the 31st of May, the out- 
 lawed Deputy Lanjuinals took refuge at llen^ 
 nes^ in a house that belonged to his mother, 
 and of which an old female domestic had the 
 care. The fear of terrifying this' poor wo- 
 man caused him, at first, to conceal from hqr 
 his real situation : but having learned from 
 the public papers the execution of Guadet at 
 Bordeaux^ and that the government had e:?^* 
 tended their inveterate proscriptions to the 
 friends who shouldtreceive any of the out- 
 lawed Deputies, and even to the domestics 
 who should not reveal the places of their con- 
 cealment, he determined immediately to de- 
 clare himself, and prevail with her to shun the 
 
liB 
 
 impending danger by instantly quitting the 
 
 liouse. 
 
 The declaration of his misfortunes, so far from 
 influencing this affectioriate creature to avoid 
 a participation of them, only made her reso- 
 lute net to abandon him in his dai^er. "It 
 is nothing to die;" said she, " but it is a great 
 deal to save the life of one's master," 
 
 In vain Lanjumals remonstrated, entreated, 
 ^nd even commanded, that she should think 
 of her own safety: it was enough, he assured 
 her, that she kept the secret of his asylum,; 
 while to ramain near him served but to en- 
 danger her ov/n life, without adding to the se- 
 curity of his. She rejected his reasons, and 
 persisted to demand, as a special favor, the 
 privilege of remaining with him. She prevail- 
 ed J and it was owing alone to the zeal and 
 precautions, of this respectable woman that 
 Lanju'mais escaped the researches of the satel- 
 iites of tyranny till the fall of Robespierre, when 
 his benefactress, in the safety and liberty of 
 her master, reaped the fruit of h^r toils<> and 
 virtuous persQveraace, 
 
3? 
 
 Rebaudde Su Etienne also, after the 31ft of 
 May, was compelled to fly from place to place, 
 €very moment in danger of falling into the 
 hands of his pursuers ; when Madame Paysac^ 
 an inhabitant of Paris, having learned that he 
 was somewhere concealed in that city, took 
 every possible means to discover his retreat, 
 that she might otler him a more secure asylum 
 in her owii house. The worthy St. Etienne 
 refused to avail himself of the services of a 
 friendship that could scarcely fail to destroy 
 the generous giver 5 but Madame Paysac insist- 
 ed with an energy that would not admit of de^ 
 nial. 
 
 *• Vfhat!'' said she, "because there is 
 some danger to be hazarded in the attempt to 
 save you, would you have me leave you to 
 perish ? What merit is there in benevolence • 
 »that is exercised only where there is no need . 
 of it ?. 
 
 The scruples of 5/. Elienne were silenced 
 by the perseverance of his friend j he was re- 
 ceived into her house^ and partook of every 
 
240 
 
 i 
 
 consolation that his miserable state would ad- 
 mit of. But how rarely in these days could 
 any unfortunate beings conceal themselves 
 from the restless vigilance of the government ! 
 iSt, Etienne was discovered m the house of 
 Madams Paysac, who speedily followed him to 
 the guillotine^ with the same intrepidity she 
 had shewn in confronting danger to perfect' 
 his safety ! 
 
 " Because you are outlawed, do not com- 
 pel me to be inhuman V^ was the answer of an 
 admirable woman who had long sheltered Gon^ 
 dorcet under her own roof, when that philoso- 
 pher insisted on separatiiig bis fate from hers, 
 en account of the law that condemned to death 
 all those who gave asylunis to the proscribed 
 Deputies. Unhappily, the utmost efforts of 
 this generous friend could not inRuence Con- 
 dorcet to endanger her safety after that decree 
 v/as passed. He quitted her house, and was 
 soon after found slain by his ov/n hand^ in a 
 l^ighbouring village. 
 
 "3 •< •< •^^■^^>'■^h•>^■f9 
 
in the City cf Biv 
 sented himself before a i... 
 and besought her to grant him au .. 
 gainst the dangers of proscription. ThLi^ 
 was something in the appearance of this stran- 
 ger that at once inspired respect and confi« 
 dence ; his grey hairs, the traces that sorrow 
 had left on his countenance^ greatly affected 
 Madame RiiviUy^ whose compassionate heart 
 was ever alive to the claims of humanity. She 
 did not consider her own danger ; she did not 
 even enquire who the person was to whom she 
 Vv-as about to give a shelter^ that might involve 
 her in utter luin — he was unfortunate, and 
 Madame RzivPJy could not resist such a title. 
 She concealed him, and sought to lessen the 
 sense of his- misfortunes by her kindness and 
 attentions. ^ 
 
 /it the expiration of t^»ro days the stranger 
 ^ca<m8 to take leave oi her, Madame Rii-vilh^ 
 whose pity and delicacy had forbade her to 
 question him, could not forbear to express her 
 astoniihnient at his abrupt departure, f I am^ 
 
lA/2 
 
 said he, *' a priest, if I remain 
 ^sir here, my proscription will extend its 
 fatal consequences to you. Suffer me to de- 
 part instantly, while you are yet safe, that I 
 may not have the additional misery of bring- 
 ing you to destruction.'' 
 
 " But where will vcu ,^'o :** said Madame 
 
 *^ God "^¥111 direct rne,*^ ^.nswered the 
 
 stranger, 
 
 *^' Whst!'' exclaimed Mad Ruvilly^ *• know 
 jou not where to seek a retreat, and would 
 3^011 have me to expose you to such danger I 
 /ih. jio ! I cannot consent to it. The more 
 unprotected you are, the mere it is my duty 
 £0 shtlier you. 1 beseech vcu to remain ia 
 this house, at least till a moment of less dan- 
 
 The eld man resisted tho, lively instances of 
 Madame Ruvilly's humanity, and was at length 
 vktor in the generous contest. Although 
 ; iV.s scene had no witness but Madame Ruvil/y's 
 ii£^er5 yet the argus eye of tyranny was n< 
 
143 > 
 
 '^-tecting the trac(^ of this act of hos-. 
 ^dame Ruvilij was summoned be- 
 I *\^ary .Tribunal, and on her 
 
 trrai . '^e die had rendered the 
 
 old prieb. V^tioa was to see her 
 
 sister also l ^ot having de- 
 
 nounced her to u. 
 
 These two women Sj^ \ with 
 a pride of having incurred ix . govern- 
 ment, the penalties attached u .e perform- 
 ance of a generous action, 
 
 Vsfe shall close the instances of hospital- 
 ky by a fact that one might well imagine to 
 be no more than the episode of a romance^, 
 if it was not attested by persons worthy to be 
 credited, and if the revolution in it's extraor- 
 dinary career had not rendered almost any 
 tale probablco 
 
 A French refugee at Brussehy was surprised 
 m that city by the French troops in their vic« 
 torious entry after the battle of Fleuris. 
 Dreading to be made a prisoner, he fled, A 
 
144' 
 
 jDung glrlj an entire stranger to hinij wte' 
 was sitting at adooi, observing the ttrrcr and^ 
 distraction of his air and cpaiitenSnce, seized^ 
 Iiim by the arm— «'-- Stay !'' she cried, yoU; 
 ara lost if you go forward. " And I am lost! 
 if I return," he answered. *' Then enter 
 here/^ said the generous girl, *^^ and be; 
 saved.** 
 
 The Frenchman accepted the offer. His 
 hostess informed him she was niece to the sex-, 
 ton of the neighbouring .church ; that it was 
 her uncle's house in which she had received' 
 iiim, who would have been far from suifering 
 her to exercise so- dangerous a rite of hospi- 
 tality had he been at home j and she hastened 
 to conceal him in an out house, where she 
 exDected to- leave him in securitVo 
 
 Scarcely was it dark when somt French ::r U 
 diers entered the same place to take up thcii" 
 abode for the night. Terrified at the fitua- 
 tion of the fV^;?^:/!' stranger, the gh'I softly ^ 
 followed them without being perceived, and' 
 waiting till she was sure they were asleep, she^ 
 iiiformed the refueee of \m extreme danger^ 
 
H5 
 
 ^:A desired him to follow her. Their move=* 
 ment wakened one of the soldiers, who^ 
 stretching out his arm, seized that of the refu- 
 gee, crying out " Who goes there ?" The 
 girl dextrously placed herself between theni^ 
 and said, "It is only me, who am com*e to 
 seek for- — =-" Fortunately she had no occasi* 
 on to say a word m.ore ; the soldier, deceiv- 
 ed by the voice of a woman, let go his captive^ 
 She conducted the refugee into the house^ 
 and taking down the keys of the church, with 
 a-lamp in her hand she led him to that placs 
 as the securest asylum she could find. They 
 entered a chapel which the ravages of war 
 had despoiled of its ornaments. Behind the 
 altar was a passage to a vault, the entrance 
 to which was not easy to be discerned. She 
 raised the door, and said, " This narrow 
 staircase leads to a vault, the repository of 
 the ashes of an illustrious family. It h 
 scarcely possible they will suspect any perscii 
 of being concealed there. Descend, and re- 
 main there till an opportunity offers for your 
 escape." She gave him the lamp j he de- 
 scended into this melancholy abode, and sh-^ 
 
 c 
 
closed the door upon him. His feelings may 
 well be imagined, when, examining this dis- 
 mal place by the light of his lamp, he saw' 
 the arms of his own family, which had been 
 originally of this country. He examined the 
 tombs of his ancestors ; he viewed them with 
 -f€¥€r€nti^ affection, and rested his head with 
 emotion upon the marble that covered their 
 ashes. The first day passed unperceived ia 
 the midst of these strong impressions. The se- 
 cond brought with it the claims of hunger^ 
 even yet more pressing than the desire of liber- 
 ty, yet his benefactress came not. Every hour 
 in its lingering passage now increased his suf« 
 feriags, his terror and despair. Sometimes 
 he imagined the generous girl had fallen a 
 victim to her desire of saving his life— at 
 others he accused her of forgetting him — in 
 either case he saw himself doomed to a death 
 a thousand times more horrible than that from 
 which he had escaped. At length, exhausted 
 with fruitless efforts, with agonizing fears, . 
 and the intolerable gnawings of hunger, he 
 sank into insensibility upon one of the graves > 
 of his ancestors a 
 
•14? 
 
 The third day was far advanced, when be 
 rfecovered to a languid sense of his deplorable 
 'Condition. Shortly after he heard a sound— 
 -it was the voice of his benefactress, who called 
 to him from the chape!. Overwhelmed with 
 joy. as with weakness he has not the power to 
 answer — she believes him already dead, and 
 with a mournful exclamation lets fall the door 
 that covers the entrance of the tomb. At 
 the sound of the falling of the door the un- 
 fortunate man feels his powers return, utters 
 a shriek of despair, and rushes with precipi- 
 tation up the stairs. Happily the niece of thfe 
 sexton had not left the spot- — she hears the 
 cry, lifts the door, and descends to save him^ 
 She had brought him food, and explained the 
 causes of her long delay, assuring him that 
 she had now taken such precautions that ia 
 future she could not fail to administer to his 
 daily wants. After seeing him refreshed and 
 consoled she quitted him, but had scarcely 
 proceeded some steps, when she heard the 
 church doors unlock, and the noise of a 
 number o^ armed men entering. She iiew back 
 to the vault, and caotionQd the refugee to gi^ 
 
148 
 
 lence. The pel'sons who now filled the church 
 were a detachment of French soldiers, wha 
 had been sent there to search for an emigrant 
 the sexton was suspected of concealing. The 
 sexton himself led them on. Perfectly un- 
 conscious of the danger his niece had incur- 
 red, and proud of his own innocence, he 
 loudly encouraged their activity, and directed 
 their researches to each remote corner of the 
 ehapel, that every spot might attest his good 
 faith. What a situation for the two captives ! 
 The soldiers passed many times over the fatal 
 3bor, led by their restless and prying con- 
 ductor, and each footstep sounded to the 
 trembling victims below as the signal of their 
 death. The entrance of the vault however 
 remained unobserved, the noise by degrees 
 died away, and when the niece of the sexton 
 ventured from the vault, she found the doors 
 of the church shut, and everyone gone- She 
 again assured the refugee of her stedfast pro- 
 tection, and retired. 
 
 ' On the following day, and for many suc- 
 ceeding days, she rtguiariy supplied him with 
 
M9 
 
 provisions, and the instant a favorable moment 
 arrived for his escape, his vigilant friend. con- 
 ducted him from his subterraneous abode, and 
 inv'^tructed him in the safest means to pass un- 
 jnoiested. Leaving the tomb he gained the 
 country, and soon after rejoining his wife, her 
 presence and affections taught him to appre- 
 ciate still more highly the services of his .g€E=. 
 -erous benefactress. 
 
 O 
 
tso 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 FORTITUDE OF MIND UNDER MISFORTUNES, 
 
 ^HE ci-devant Princess SiainviUe de Monaco 
 united in her own person a rare assem- 
 blage of charms and graces, of wit and strength 
 of mind. Arrested in virtue of the law of the 
 17th of September, the Revolutionary Com- 
 mittee of her section promised to leave her 
 H^ith a guard in her own houses they after- 
 wards violated their word, and came to rem>ove 
 her to a pristjn, when, under pretence of 
 searching for something in her closet, she 
 eluded the watchfulness of the agents of the 
 Committee, and actually made her escape. 
 Closely pursued by the emissaries of the law, 
 she had but just time to gain the shelter of a 
 friend's house, viho received her with enthu- 
 siasm,, and guarded her for a^ while from the 
 requisirion* of her enemies. She imprudently 
 left her friend's house to go into 'he country, 
 and yet more imprudemly ventured to ret urn 
 
to Paris, where she was arrested a second 
 time, conducted to a house of arrest, and in a 
 short time received her act of accusation.. 
 
 In passing to the Tribunal she saw many 
 other prisoners, who were standing to observe 
 her. ''Citizens,*' said she, I am going to 
 death with that tranquillity which innocence 
 inspires, I wish you all a happier fate." She 
 th«n turned to the jailor 3. and drawing from 
 her bosom a pacquet that contained a large 
 quantity of her beautiful light-coloured hair> 
 which she had that morning cut from her 
 head with abroken pane of glass of her chai 
 ber window, she said, " I demand a favo] 
 ^ou, promise that yx)u will grant it*" 
 
 The jailor complied,. 
 
 *'' Ihis is," said she, "a pacquet of my hairi 
 I entreat in the name of all who now hear me 
 that you will send it to my son, to whom it is 
 addressed ; swear in the presence of these 
 good but unfortunate people that you will do 
 me this last omce of kindness." 
 
 She afterwards addressed one of her attend- 
 ants, who was included in h^v proscription:, 
 
 lan^ 
 )r of 
 
2 5^ 
 
 but whose deep afiliction formed a smking« 
 contrast to her fortitude and constancy.— - 
 *^ Courage, my good friend/' said she, " cou- 
 rage ! it is only guilt that should display weak- 
 
 ness." 
 
 She heard her condemnatioa with the same- 
 intrepidity J but the remembrance of her be- 
 loved children suddenly assailing her, she 
 made a last effort to save herself for them, by 
 declaring she was pregnant. Being presently 
 informed that four women had lately been ex- 
 ecuted notwithstanding their declaration of 
 jjfcegnancy, she disdained longer to persist irt 
 a useless feint, and addressed a letter on the 
 subject to Foquet TinviU'e, which accelerated her 
 death. When she was going to the scaffold 
 she demanded rouge ; *^ If nature,'' said she>. 
 ** yields to a moment of weakness, lat us em- 
 ploy art to hide it," She submitted to the 
 stroke of death with that subhme courage and 
 that graceful decency v/hich rendered her last 
 moment the affecting image of her life. 
 
Madame Lavloliette de Tournay^ some dayB 
 before her death, painted a hand supporting it- 
 self on a death's head, and sent the picture to 
 het husband. If ir were true, as she conv« 
 plained, that he had delivered her to the mis- 
 fortunes she experienced, he must have re- 
 ceived the striking allegory with the most pain«. 
 ful emotions, 
 
 " The source of my tears is dry," said Ma-> 
 dame Laviolletie de 'Tournay on the evening be- 
 fore her execution, '^ I have not shed a tear 
 since yesterday. This once feeling heart Js 
 callous to every impression of sensibility. 
 Those aiFections that constituted the happiness 
 of my life, are all extinguished. I do not re- 
 gret any blessing past, nor anticipate any evil 
 to come, and I look v»^ith perfect indilierence 
 oxrthe moment of death/* 
 
 *' I will not encourage a hope,'/ wrote an** 
 other Imprisoned woman to her friend, *' be- 
 cause 1 will not purchase the miseries of a dis*- 
 appoiatment^ 1 wait the result with firmn^s^*^ 
 
 02. 
 
I ^kall vkw with rapttore, tio doubt, the mo- 
 ment that restores me to life and liberty, and 
 I will look without despair oa that which shall 
 devote me to the grave /^ 
 
 A young girl of an interesting figure was 
 brought before the Revolutionary Tribunal of 
 Lyons^ for refusing to wear the National Cock- 
 ade. They demanded her reasons. It is not 
 the cockade that I hate, she answered, but you 
 bear itj and it appears to become the signal of 
 crimes ; as such, it shall never be placed on 
 my forehead, A jailor, standing behind this 
 courageous girl, fastened the cockade to her 
 bonnet. She coldly took it o^, and throwing 
 it to the bench of the Tribunal, said, '' I re- 
 turn it to you.'' She went out, but it was to 
 ^eath. 
 
 The extraordinary courage Madame Rolandy 
 wife of the ex-minister of that name, display- 
 ed during the series of her misfortunes de- 
 serves to be mentioned here ^ for it is, per- 
 
.155- 
 
 hap^, more by her courage than a»r other 
 quality that this celebrated woman has merited" 
 the eulogiums which have been lavished upon 
 her. The following is the account she has 
 herself given of her first imprisonment : 
 
 " When I found myself inclosed within four' 
 dirty walls, saw a miserable bed without cur-- 
 tains, and a doubly grated window, and was aU 
 so assailed with that disagreeable smell, which^ 
 a person accustomed to cleanly apartments 
 always finds in those that are dirty, Ifelt, in-- 
 deed, that I was in a prison : yet^ resolved 
 to accomodate myself as much as possible to 
 my circumstances, i derived some pleasure 
 from observing that my chamber was suffici-^ 
 ently roomy, that it had a fire-place, that the 
 covering of the bed was tolerable, that I was 
 supplied with a pillow ; I forbore to make 
 comparisons, and deemed myself not badly ac-- 
 commodated. In this temper I went to bed, 
 and resolved to remain in it as long as i found 
 ' myself at ease : I had not even left my bed 
 at ten the next morning, when my counsellor 
 arrived. He was stiil more affected by my 
 
gituation than on the preceding evening, and 
 lie surveyed my deplorable chamber, with 
 v^hich I was already satisfied, because I had 
 slept well, with visible agitation, 
 
 *^ The commotion among the people was 
 at that time very great, the drums were fre- 
 quently beating to arms, and I was ignorant 
 ©F what was passing out of doors* 
 
 *^ The tyrants shall not^ said i to myself^ 
 prevent my making the most of life to my last 
 moment y more happy in the satisfaction of 
 my own conscience than they can be in the en- 
 joyment of their fury. If they come to put 
 me to death, I will go forward to meet them, 
 and I shall q^uit life as one who enters a stata 
 of repose. 
 
 *^ When r went down to the apartment of 
 the keeper's wife I found my faithful nurse : 
 she threw herself into my arms, drowned in 
 tears and choaked with sobs ^ I myself melt- 
 ed into tenderness and sorrow, reproachii>g 
 myself for the tranquility I had enjoyed, while 
 those who were attached to me w^re afflictsd 
 
^57 
 
 with the most anxious alarms ; and, picturing 
 to myself successively the anxiety of one per- 
 son and another, I feic an indescribable op- 
 pression at my heart, 
 
 '' I never was accustomed to be expensive 
 in what regards my personal enjoyments, and 
 I have even a pleasure in exercising my cou-- 
 rage in any accidental privation. A passion 
 seized me now to make an experiment, to 
 discover iii what degree the power of th(J 
 mind can narrow the wants of man,. At the 
 end of four days I began to reduce the quality 
 of niy breakfast, and, instead of coffee or 
 chocolate, to take bread and water : I ordered 
 a small plate of some simple dish with vegeta* 
 bles for my dinner, and in the evening a few: 
 vegetables without any desert. I first dranE 
 small-beer instead of wine, and then I discon- 
 tinued the beer. As this oeconomy had a mo- 
 ral object, and as I equally disliked and despis- 
 ed a frugality that had no other end than to- 
 save, I appropriated a sum for the poorer 
 sort in the prison, that I might have the plea- 
 sure,, while I eat rny dry bread in the mornings;. 
 
158 
 
 to reflect that they would have a better din- 
 ner for my privations." 
 
 When Madame Roland arrived at the Con- 
 ciergerie, says the author of the Memoirs of a 
 Prisoner^ the blood of the twenty-two Depu- 
 ties still flowed on the spot. Though she well 
 comprehended the fate which awaited her, her 
 firmness did not forsake her. Although past 
 the prime of life she was a fine woman, tall, 
 sad of an elegant form ;. an expression infi« 
 nitely superior to what is usually found in wo- 
 men was seen in her large black eyes, at once, 
 forcible and mild. She frequently spoke from^ 
 her window to those without, with, the extent 
 and greatness of mind of a man of the first 
 order of talent. Sometimes,, however, the 
 susceptibility of her sex gained the ascendance,, 
 and it, was seen that she had been weeping., 
 no doubt at the remen>brance of her daughter 
 and husband. This mixture of delicate feel- 
 ing and heroic fortitude rendered Madame Ror> 
 land still, more interesting. As she passed to. 
 her examination, we saw her with that firm* 
 Siess. of deportment which usually marked, her 
 
159 
 
 charscter : as she returned, her eyes were 
 moistened with tears, but they were t^ars gF 
 indignation. She had been treated with the 
 grossest rudeness, and questions had been 
 put to her insulting to her honor. The day- 
 en which she was condemned she had dressed 
 herself in white, and with peculiar care : her 
 long black hair hung down loose to her waste. 
 After her condemnation she returned to the 
 prison with an alacrity that was little short of 
 pleasure. By a sign, that was not mistaken, 
 she gave all to understand that she was con- 
 dem^jed to die. Associated in the same death 
 with her was a man who had not her fortitude ; 
 yet she infused a portion of her courage into 
 his mind, in a manner so attractive and irre- 
 sistible that he was seen more than once to 
 
 saiile ! 
 
 '1 
 
 When she came to the place of exf cution^ 
 she bowed to the statue of Liberty, and pro- 
 nounced these words, ever to be remembeTed : 
 
 ■Oh Liberty ! how many crimes are committed 
 
 hin thj name i 
 
34adame GrvnaJdi^ v^ho wss slready dls- 
 stinguished for the firmness of her character, 
 did not disgrace her name at that moment 
 "when courage ceases to be mere ostentation, 
 and the mind >hews its real form, with ail its 
 weakness as well as strength. 
 
 When the act of accusation was presented 
 to Mada?iie Grimaidi j^he mildly refused to read 
 it : her features were not changed by any 
 emotion of fear or resentment. She distribu- 
 ted to certain poor persons she was accustom- 
 ed to aid, what m.oney she had in her posses- 
 sion. She took a kind leave ef her waiting 
 woman and friends, and she bade adieu to her 
 acquaintance, as one who on a long journey 
 quits the companions of his route, after an in- 
 tercourse with them which has at once been 
 pkasant and useful. 
 
 The Trlncess de Lamhalle^ so celebrated fca* 
 
 4ier misfortunes, was born on the 8th Deptem- 
 
 ber, 1749. i he history of her marri-r>ge, and 
 
 the circuniotances of htr early widovvhuodj ar© 
 
i6i 
 
 well known. Devoted to the whole royal fa- 
 mily, she avowed in particular a friendship for 
 the Queen. She had returned from London, 
 about a month before the affair of the (oth 
 August entirely changed the face of the Revo- 
 lution. Sh^ had been treated with great cori- 
 sideration'in England, where she had offers of 
 protection, if she had consented to temain till 
 the troubles were over in France : but learning 
 tiiat new misfortunes threatened her royal 
 friend, she returned, resolved to partake of 
 her fate ! It is difficult to find in the court of 
 kings another such instance of friendship. 
 
 Madame de Lajuballe was thrown into one of 
 the dungeons of the prison of La Force after 
 the I oth August. On the third of September^ 
 in the morning, she was informed, tliat she was 
 to be transferred to the prison of the Abbey, 
 and that she must immediately come down to 
 the gate. She was still in bed ; and answered, 
 that she liked the prison she was in as well as 
 any other, and absolutely refufed to leave her 
 room. A man, in the uniform of the Nation- 
 al Guard approached the bed, rudely telling 
 
 P 
 
■l"62 
 
 lief she must obey, or her life was in dangefv 
 She replied, she would do what they request- 
 ed ; and beseeching those that were in her 
 room to withdraw for a moment, she hastily 
 threw on her robe, and then called in the Na- 
 tional Guard, who gave her his arm, and con- 
 ducted her to the gate : she was instantly in 
 the midst of the sanguinary Tribunal ! The 
 sight of arms and of assasinsj whose hands, fa- 
 ces, and clothes were cavered with blood, with 
 the cries of the unhappy persons whom they 
 were murdering in the streets, made her trem- 
 ble with horror. They affected to begin aii 
 examination of the Princess : 
 
 *' I have nothing to answer,^' said sh©> 
 '^^ to die a little sooner or a httk later is per- 
 fedtly indiiferent to me j I am prepared for 
 death." 
 
 *' O ! she refuses to answer!" said he who 
 presided over this horde of murderers, " take 
 her away to the Abbey!" ^ 
 
 This word was the signal of death at the 
 prison of La Force, The assassins seized on 
 
i53' 
 
 their victim, and dragged her out. She had 
 scarcely passed the threshold of the ^oor, when 
 she received a blow with a sabre on the back 
 'of her head, which made the blood to flow ; a 
 plaintive cry was the only expression of this 
 unfortunate woman ! Being dragged into the 
 ttreet, two men, who held each an arm, com- 
 pelled her to march over the carcases of the 
 dead! she fainted at almost every step. When 
 at length she was so enfeebled, that it was im- 
 possible any more to raise her up, the assassins 
 profaned her person with barbarous and wan» 
 
 ton excesses^ 
 
 -1 
 
 It is impossible to relate all the attrocities 
 committed towards this unfortunate Princess : 
 it seemed as if hell, and all the furies of hell, 
 were contending for portions of her body, 
 which they dragged through the kennel, hav- 
 ing first torn out her bowels ! Adding derision 
 to ferocity, they compelled -a friseur to dress 
 her head, which they carried in triumph, and 
 by its side her breasts, which were cut oil, and 
 her heart, still bleeding, and other fragmenra 
 ©f her body ! 
 
164 
 
 We will here preserve the memory of a 
 courageous act of Madame de Lowendaly one 
 of the friends of this unfortunate Princess. 
 Having learned the danger of Madame de 
 Lamhalle at La. Force^ she hastily assembled 
 some friends, dressed them in the livery of the 
 assassins at the prisons, furnished them with 
 sabres and pikes, covering their faces with 
 blood and dust, and thus disguised, put her- 
 self at their head, and marched to the prison 
 of La Force, with the design of entering it, and 
 rescuing her from the impending danger. 
 She arrived too late : the genius of Friendship 
 was less active than the dasmon of Orleam* 
 
 That Prince hated Madame Lamhalle^ and 
 ha4 long vowed her destruction ; and his de- 
 sire of revenge was heightened by his rapa- 
 citVj as he gained an hundred thousand 
 crowns annually, a dowry which was assigned 
 to the Princess on the fDrcune of the Duchess 
 Gf Orleans y her sister-in^aw. It being betray- 
 ed to him, that a sum of fifty thousand crowns 
 had been offered to Majiuel for the liberation 
 of the Piincess, x\i^ Duke dispatched a band 
 
i6s 
 
 of assassins, paid by himself, to the Hotel D$' 
 la Force. An Italian whose name was Roiondo^ 
 \yho for two years past had lived on terms of 
 the closest intimacy with the Prince, placed 
 himself at their head; andjanfortunately those 
 murderers arrived at L^ Force before the faith- 
 fnl troop of 'Madame Lowefidal^ who had the 
 affliction to see the remains of her friend dis^ 
 puted by the ferocious horde 1 . 
 
 Jealousy was one of the domineering passl^- 
 ons of Robespierre* s mind,^ Whatever drei^ 
 the public attention upon any of his colleagues^ 
 or added to the celebrity of his rivals, excited 
 his envy and malice, and became a torment to 
 his existence, . Among the multitude of facts 
 during the dictatorship of this tyrant, which 
 evince this, that which we will now relate is 
 remarkable both for the singularity of its cir- 
 cumstances and its tragic issue. 
 
 An. attempt had been made on the life of 
 one of the rivals in power as well as in attro- 
 city,, of Robejpierre^ Collot d'Herbois* The Po^' 
 
 P o 
 
1 66 
 
 pillar SoGietles, the Sections, and tlie Consti- 
 tuted Authorities, had contended who should 
 be foremost to facilitate the National Conven- 
 tion upon the escape of Colot d'Herbois : ail 
 eyes were turned upon that Deputy, and 
 scarcely any thing was heard of but the at- 
 tempt to assassinate him. At that time he 
 played only a subordinate part in the Revolu- 
 tion ; the first was unquestionably filled by 
 Robespierre; who, fearing that his popularity 
 thenceforth would decrease, resolved to seize 
 on the first occasion to draw back the public 
 attention to himself. 
 
 The visit of a young girl, who in a very e:g- 
 traordinary manner presented herself at his 
 house, gave Robespierre the opportunity he 
 sought^ and a complete triumph. WithoBt 
 personal danger he received all the honours 
 which with an -envious eye he had before seen 
 heaped upon CollGt d'Herbois, -Again, all the 
 Popular Societies, the Sections, and Constitute 
 ed Authorities, were seen on their way throng- 
 ng to the bar of the National Convention } 
 ^tA Robssfsrre had the gratification to kaow 
 
i6y 
 
 that they came to felicitate the country on tKa? 
 escape of the intrepid Defender of its liberties- 
 frorn the poniard of an assassin. 
 
 The interesting Renaud was nearly twenty- 
 years of age when she committed the very ex- 
 traordinary act that Robespierre turned to his 
 own purposes, and which conducted her to the 
 scaffold. She had one of those figures which 
 please without being beautiful, and often please 
 more than beauty. Her features, taken sepa- 
 rately, were far from being handsome j yet^ 
 from the vivacity of her manners, her agree- 
 able countenance, and the elegance of her de- 
 portment, she was called the finest girl of her 
 neighborhood. Her father lived in the Rue 
 de la Lanierne in the city, and carried on the 
 business of a paper-maker. He was a trades- 
 man greatly esteemed among his brethren, and 
 of unblemished reputation. He had seven 
 children, to all of whom he had given a good 
 education. Two of his sons served the Re- 
 public in the army of the north. Various 
 were the conjectures at the time of the motives 
 of the conduct of this girl ^ but uone of theni^ 
 
J 
 
 m^ 
 
 far from having any foundation in truth, had 
 even probability on their side. V/e can assign, 
 no reason for her conduct, except that which' 
 she herself declared upon her examination and 
 
 trial.. i 
 
 Oh the fourth of Prairial, In the second 
 year of the Republic, towards the close of day; 
 the young Renam presented herself at the dco 
 of Robespierre^ s house, and desired to speak t( 
 him. Being tpld that he was not at home, sh' 
 observed, in a peevish manner, that it did no 
 become the Public Functionaries, to be frori 
 home when persons wished to see them upoi 
 public affairs. The satellites of Robespierre^ 
 unused to hear their master spoken of with re- 
 proach, instantly concluded that the voice and 
 manner of this girl concealed some important 
 mystery : they crowded round her, and were 
 all eager to put a thousand questions at once to 
 her. She answered with a firmness which sur- 
 prized and alarmed them, 
 
 " You have formed some criminal project,'* 
 said ozie of them ; 't what brings you h^re r*! 
 
1^9 
 
 ^* I came/' coolly answered this young 
 girl, " to see what is the shape of a tyrant/' 
 The dependants of Robespierre trembled with 
 rage, and had no longer any doubt that th^y 
 beheld a second Charlotte Cor day. 
 
 " We must take her before the Committee 
 of General Safety." they all cried with one 
 voice ; " she is hired to assassinate the Saviour 
 of the People !"' 
 
 Two among them seized upon the young 
 Renaud^ and conducted her to the Committee 
 of general safety. She was questioned by the 
 Committee as to her name, her age, professi« 
 on and abode. 
 
 "I am called Aifiiee Cecile Renaud* I am 
 twenty years of age. I live with my fatheip 
 v,?ho is a paper- maker, in the Rue de la Lan-- 
 ierne^ near the Ruedes Marmozets^ In the Sec- 
 tion of the City,'* 
 
 '^ V/here were you arrested, and by 
 whom ?" 
 
^* I was arrested in the house of Robespierre-^. 
 by persons whom I do not know.** 
 
 " What motive led you to the house of th( 
 Eepresentative of the people, Robespierre V^ 
 
 " To speak to him." 
 
 " What was the business which you desired 
 lo communicate to him ?**' 
 
 ** That would have been accordingly as ' 
 found him.'*' 
 
 Did any one employ you to speak to CitL 
 zen Robespierre i 
 
 pi$ 
 
 « No.** 
 
 *' Had you any memorial to present to 
 
 lim?'* 
 
 *^ I do not see that you have any concent 
 with that/^ 
 
 ** Do you know Citizen Robespierre ? 
 
 s *' No s for that was exactly what I wanted,*' 
 
^^ What were your motives for desiring td 
 icnow him ?'* 
 
 ** To know if he answered my purpose.'* 
 'Being called upon to explain that last ex- 
 pression, she replied : "I have nothing more 
 to say on that subject.'^ 
 
 *' When you understood that Citizen Rc^ 
 bespierre was not at hojfne, did you not betray 
 impatience and ill humor ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 ^^ Do you knew the Reu de P Esirapade ?*' 
 "No/* 
 
 " Did you not say to the citizens who ar- 
 rested you, that you would shed the last drop 
 of your blood to restore the king ?'* 
 
 " Yes, I did so?' 
 
 ^^ Do you maintain that language still ?*' 
 
 " Yes, I do.'^ 
 
 ^[ What were your motives for desiring at 
 
If2 
 
 *tbat time, and still continuing to desive a tj-.! 
 rant for France ?*' ' 
 
 "I wish to have a king, because I prefo 
 om to a thousand tyrants ; and I went to Ro' 
 besplerre's house merely to see what was the 
 shape of a tyrant," 
 
 The Committee then ordered a parcel to bej 
 produced to the young Renaud^ containin] 
 the entire dress of a woman, which she had 
 left with a seller of lemonade immediate- 
 ly before her visit to Robespierre^ s house, am 
 interrogated her on her motives for providing" 
 herself with this apparel. . She answered : 
 that well knowing she should be sent to the 
 :place where she certainly must go, she wish- 
 ed to be provided with a decent dress for the 
 occasion. 
 
 1 What place do you speak of ?** 
 To prison, and then to the guillotine !'^ 
 
 'CC 
 
 6C 
 
 What use did you purpose to make of 
 
 the two kjiive§ that were fouad on your per- 
 son ?-* 
 
*i 
 «« None. 1 never designed harm against 
 
 ^ny living being." 
 
 After this examination the young \Renaud 
 was imprisoned in the Condergerle ; a^pid the 
 task of punishing her crime was delivered 
 over to Fouquier Tinville. This worthy mi- 
 nister of Robespierre* s passions neglected no- 
 thing in this affair that could flatter his ma^ter«> 
 He compelled the young girl to undergo seve- 
 ral secret examinations, m the first of which 
 he employed all the means that might terrify 
 her into a confession, and an impeachment of 
 her accompliees. She uniformly and steadily 
 affirmed, that she never entertained the idea 
 of assassinating Robespierre ; but simply wish- 
 i€d to see what was the shape of a tyrant. 
 
 In another examination Fouquier Tinvilk 
 
 threatened, if she did not acknov/ledge 
 
 her guilt, and give up her accomplices, to 
 
 ;send her father, mother, brothers, and all 
 
 : her family, with her to the guillotine. " You 
 
 jmay send me," she said, " to the guillotine 
 
 ifor having forn^ed the wish of once to look 
 
 * 
 
^74 
 
 upon a tyrant ^ but it must be the most attro- 
 cious injustice to destroy my family, who ar< 
 innocent of that crime." J 
 
 As she continued to give the same answer 
 upon every interrogatory, Fouquier Tinville fd 
 into rage, at what he called her audacit 
 His ingenuity contrived a species of tortur 
 for her. Perceiving that she loved dress, K 
 gave orders to the keeper of the prison to take 
 her clothes from her, and put on her filthy 
 and disgusting rags. In this condition thevj 
 compelled her to appear before the counciql' 
 where the same questions and menaces were 
 again repeated. Far from being ashamed oi 
 her appearance, the young Renaud Rested with 
 the Public Accuser upon the pettiness of his 
 invention. In other respects, her answers 
 continued exactly as before. It was then re- 
 solved to put her and her family to death. On 
 the 29th of Frairialy this interesting girl was 
 conducted before the Revolutionary Tribunal. 
 As she entered the box appropriated to the ac- 
 cused, she saw among the associates of her 
 nu^iortune, her father, and an aunt by whom 
 
17S 
 
 phe had been educated. Her eyes filled with 
 tears at the spectacle ; but in a little time this^ 
 extraordinary girl subdued her emotions, and 
 regained her usual serenity. No less than 
 eight carriages were prepared to conduct her 
 accomplices to the scaffold. Among them 
 were Sainte Amaranthe^ her mother, and her 
 .husband, (the son of the ex-minister Sariine) y 
 the tvjo Somhreuils, father and son; Lamral 
 (who had attempted the life of Collot d'Herbois)^, 
 : and other individuals, whose surprise was ex- 
 treme to see each other condemned as accom- 
 plices in the same crime. This spectacle of 54 
 condemned persons, each covered with a red 
 shirt, and surrounded by a strong guard, com* 
 posed of Gendarmes y with pieces of cannon^ 
 who looked as if they were proceeding to a 
 fefe^ was contrived to gratify the jealousy of 
 Robespierre. All eyes sought for the younp^ 
 Renaud, The approach of death had made no 
 change in her countenance. She calmly cast 
 her eyes round upon the multitude. During 
 the long time occupied in the march from the 
 Conciergerie to the scaffold, which on this oc- 
 casion was erected near the Barrier du Trom, 
 
176 
 
 at the extremity of the Fauxbourg St, Aniotne^ 
 she never betrayed one instance of fear.^ Shai 
 was seen to smile more than once, and she 
 frequently conversed with some of the compa- 
 nions of her misfortune. Being arrived at th^ 
 place of execution, she descended from the 
 cart with Ermness^ and embracing her father 
 and her aimt^ exhorted thtm to dk with con- 
 stancy* When it was her turn to mount the 
 scaibid, she ascended the step^ with cheerful- 
 /"esSj and seemed eager to present her head ta 
 the steel. 
 
 The answers of this young girl on her vari- 
 ous examinations, might certainly inspire a sus- 
 picion of a design against Robespierre^ s life^.: 
 but no other tribunal than that which then 
 existed in France, could have thought itself 
 justified in condemning her to death, much 
 less in condemning her whole family, and evea 
 strangers, with her on the same accusation. 
 Most fortunately the two brothers of the 
 young Renaud^ who were serving with the ar- 
 my of the north, and whom Tinville had caus- 
 ed to be arrested at their posts, did not arrive 
 at Paris till two or three days before the 9th 
 
177 
 
 oiThermidor. The pomp which the agents of 
 Robespierre designed to give to the second ex- 
 ecution, by delay saved the lives of these two 
 young men. They were set at li||^rty after the 
 9th of Thermidor, 
 
 During the disastrous reigfi of the assignats« 
 a family formerly opulent, consisting of a fa- 
 ther, mother, and five children, pined in want 
 in a small cottage at the extremity of a town. 
 The father, whose temper was violent, sup- 
 ported his misfortune with an impatience diffi- 
 cult to express. He frequently considered 
 whether he should not put an end to his life- 
 His wife, observing the agitation of his 
 mind, and knowing him capable of a rash 
 act, meditated on the means of withdrawing; 
 him from his project. But the difficulty 
 was, to find motives sufficiently strong* 
 His affection for herself and his children, 
 was rather calculated to push him to ex- 
 tremity ; for it was evident he never thoCight 
 
 on them without anguish bordering on de- 
 spair, To propose la him to have recourse to 
 
17S 
 
 tlie charity of his neighbors, she knew, wculc 
 wound his pride, which was excessive. Be- 
 sides she was not certain of the success of that 
 exDedient ; 2(nd she knew, that a refusal would 
 be a thousand tnn^^more cruel than any spe= 
 eies of torture, ij^en the resource of conso- 
 lation was not left her, for her husband would^ 
 .not listen to anj/ topic that might afford hope, 
 but impaUently pressed her to die with him, 
 and to persuade their children to the same re- 
 solution. Surrounded by so many subjects of 
 discouragement, the wiTe never abandoned 
 herself to descair. One idea arose in hep 
 mind, which she exprest to her husband with 
 so much tenderness and courage, that it almost 
 instantly restored his mind to tranquility. 
 
 *^ All 23 not lost,''' she said, " I have healthy, 
 and our five children also. Let us leave thia 
 town, and retire to some place where we are 
 not known, and I and my children will labour 
 to support their father." She added, that ii 
 their labour was insuiTicient, she would prr- 
 Yatery beg alms for his support. The hus- 
 iaad ruminated awhile over this proposition 
 
179 
 
 and took his resolution with a constancy wor- 
 thy of the honorable life he has since led. 
 
 ** No/' he said, " I will not reduce you to 
 the disgrace of beggary for me; but since you 
 are capable of such attachment to me, I know 
 uhat remains to render me worthy of it.'* 
 
 He then lost no time in collecting together 
 the remnants of his property, which produced 
 a hundred pistoles, and quitted the town wiih 
 his family, taking the road to a distant depart- 
 ment ; and in the first place where he thought 
 he was not known, he changed his dress for 
 the coarse dress of a peasant, making his whole 
 family do the same \ and continuing his route, 
 arrived at a town which-hc thought fit for his 
 purpose : in the neighbourhood of which he 
 hired a cabin, with a field and a small vine- 
 yard. Re then bought some wool and flax to 
 employ the girls, and tools to cultivate the land 
 for himself and the boy?, the use of which he 
 iired a peasant to teach him. 
 
 A few weeks sufficed to conquer all diflTcuu 
 ties. The example of the father and mother 
 
 
I8a 
 
 excited emulation among the children ; and 
 acquiring a competence from its labour and 
 constancy, originating in the courage of the 
 virtuous mother, this family lived perfect pat- 
 terns of peace and domestic union. 
 
 If celebrity be proportioned to the grand eur 
 of events and the greatness of the personages 
 concerned, never had woman a juster claim to 
 tenown than Marie Aniionette of Austria,. 
 Queen of France. She was unquestionably 
 the most important personage of the i8th cen- 
 tury, as having accelerated great political Re- 
 volutions, given birth to the most dreadful 
 catastrophes and quickened the progress of 
 events ; and as having been the object of more 
 mtrigues, hatred, and love, and the example of 
 greater vicissitudes of fortune, than any other 
 person of her time. No name in history is to 
 be compared with hers, either for prosperity or 
 misfortune. 
 
 It is for writers that are neither actuated by 
 liatred, which disguises all things, or partiality, 
 
 
i8i 
 
 ^hich sacrifices all to its own cause, — it is for 
 those who have not been affected either by the 
 storms of the Revolutions or by the governing 
 and changing opinions of every day and every 
 hour, and to whom truth can make her way, 
 disengaged from the train of the passions, — it 
 is for such to write the history of this woman, 
 whose name, as it passes down to posterity,, 
 will leave the most important lessons, and the 
 most striking impressions. As for us, we shalL 
 confine ourselves to a narrow outline of the: 
 facts of her life* 
 
 Marie Antioneitey Arch-Duchess of Austria^. 
 was born at Vienna on the second of November^ 
 lySS* ^^^ was daughter of Maria leresa^ 
 whose brilliant success, after almost unexam- 
 pled reverses of fortune, created such a sensa- 
 tion m. Europe. But Marie Aniionette had nei- 
 ther the greatness of character nor the talents 
 of her mother. 
 
 Her marriage with the grandson oi Louis the 
 15th, the presumptive heir to the French 
 Crown, in 1770, was distinguished by an inau- 
 spicious accident^ numbers, of the spectators o£ 
 
1^2 
 
 the celebration being stifled by the press of 
 
 . Marie Antimeite was tall, beautiful, and fas- 
 cinating. Her voice was soft, flexible and 
 finely modelled. She had great skill in music. 
 She was versed in several languages ; and 
 possessed such a variety of accomplishments 
 as did honor to her princely education. 
 
 Amidst the disorders of a court sunk in de- 
 bauchery, she at first appeared resolved to 
 preserve herself pure ; and her conduct for a 
 while drew the veneration of all France, as her 
 beauty and affability had before gained her the 
 general love. 
 
 A character so happily gifted, seemed not 
 consistent with the blind zeal with which she 
 afterwards threw herself into the torrent of 
 dissipation, which at once formed the scandal 
 of her own life, and the misery of France. 
 Kistory will tell how quickly levity succeed- 
 ed to her modest deportment ; how her free 
 manners and nocturnal journeys have furnish- 
 ed arms to reproach^ and food to calumny \ 
 
iS3 
 
 how her adventures and connections with so 
 many women of infamous character stained 
 her in the public opinion; how the famous 
 story of the neclace, her Hbertine love for 
 the emperor her brother, her avowed hatred 
 to France, her open intrigues, in which she 
 expressed a contempt for all decorum, her ca- 
 pricious expences in the midst of general dis- 
 tress, her ambition to rival in power the mis- 
 tresses of her husband's predecessors on the 
 throne— how all these have sunk, little by 
 little, th€ path which led to her calamitous 
 end. 
 
 The history of her life, as far as it can be' 
 cleared from the mass of writings which have 
 appeared in her praise or defamation, will 
 give us a standard by which we may appreciate 
 her cliaracter. 
 
 In gener.il she was too feeble to conduct 
 great enterprizes, and too lofty of mind not 
 to engage in them. Nothing was wanting to 
 the success of her projects but experience and 
 maturity of judgment. Her active imagina- 
 tion; and mpAtieAice of temper, precipitated 
 
# 184 
 
 events, Avhen the means on which they should 
 liave rested were not yet prepared. She wa^ 
 too much of a woman, she had too much the 
 weakness of her sex to command success, 
 and she was not enough of a woman to rely 
 only upon her own proper artifices. 
 
 Of all the cruel vicissitudes of her life, af* 
 ter the dovmfail of the throne, the most pain- 
 ful was what she experienced in the Concier- 
 :gerie, to which she had been coveyed to wait 
 her trial. She was lodged in a room called 
 the Council Chamber, which was considered 
 as the most unwholesome apartment in that 
 prison, on account of its dampness, and the 
 bad smells by which it was continually affect- 
 ed. Under pretence of giving her a person 
 to wait upon her, they placed near her a spy, 
 a man of a horrible countenance and hollow 
 sepulchral voice. This man, whose name 
 "was Barassin, was a robber and murderer by 
 profession. He had been condemned to four- 
 teen years imprisonment in irons, but the 
 :goaler, being in want of a keeper, prevailed 
 on this man, who well answered his purposes, 
 
i85 
 
 i to remain v/ith him in that capacity. He was 
 chiefly employed in conveying the fihh out of 
 the prison, and locking up of the prisoners. 
 This personage was chosen as attendant upoa 
 tlie Queen of France. 
 
 A few days before she v;as brought to trial, 
 this attendant was removed, and a Gendarme 
 placed in her chamber, who watched over her 
 night and day, and from whom she was not 
 separated, even when she was in bed, but by 
 a ragged curtain. 
 
 Marie Antoinefie, in this melancholy abode, 
 had no other dress than an old black robe^ 
 stockings with holes, which she was forced to 
 mend every day, and she was entirely destitute 
 of shoes. She remained in the Conciergerie 
 from the beginning of August to the i6th of 
 October^ on which day she was sentenced to 
 die. 
 
 One of the most splendid moments of the 
 life of this unfortunate Queen was, when on 
 the evidence oi Herbert and Si?nun she was ac- 
 cused, in the face of the multitude assemblei 
 
 R 
 
i86 
 
 to hear her trial, of crimes at which the human 
 mind revolts, and in which the most sacred 
 laws of nature are outraged. It was in the eio« 
 quent appeal that she made to mothers to re- 
 pel these base calumniations, and in the accent 
 of real grief with which she spoke, that she 
 shewed herself truly great. The tyrants who 
 sat upon this trial, and the assassins who wait- 
 ed for her death, trembled before the superi- 
 ority which she exhibited in that moment ; and 
 Robespierre was known, after the event, to 
 complain of the advantage given to the Queen 
 by that accusation, at a time when every occa- 
 sion of commiseration should carefully have 
 been guarded against. 
 
 Those who saw her go to the scaffold, ob- 
 served that her fortitude in that decisive mo- 
 ment was not less the effect of the struggles of 
 her pride, than a firmness of mind and a dis- 
 gust of life. 
 
 ..j^f , 
 
i87 
 
 CHAP. VIIL 
 
 SELF-DEVOTION FOR GREAT OBJECTS, 
 
 F It were possible to divest one's self of 
 the horror of assassination, the grandeur 
 of character possessed by Charlotte Corday 
 would give an almost unparalleled interest to 
 the following recital. 
 
 Charlotte Corday was born at St, Saturnin 
 des Lignerets^ in the year 1768. Nature had 
 bestowed on her a handsome person, witj, 
 feeling, and a masculine energy of under- 
 standing. She received her education in a 
 convent, but disdaining the frivolous minutia 
 of that species of education, she laboured 
 with constant assiduity to cultivate her own 
 powers, and hourly strengthened that bent of 
 her imagination towards the grand and sublime 
 which accorded with the inflexible purity of 
 her manners, while it fitted her for that peri- 
 lous enterprise to which, at the age of five* 
 and-twenty, she fell a self- devoted sacrificer 
 
The Abbe Raynal was her favourite author 
 among modern writers. She frequently quot- 
 ed his thoughts and maxims. She delighted 
 to explore new systems and theories, and the 
 Revolution found her an ardent proselyte to 
 that philosophy to which it owed its origin.. 
 
 Her love of study rendered her careless of 
 the homage that her beauty attracted, and 
 her desire of independence caused her to re- 
 fuse many offers of marriage from men, to 
 whom her heart was indifferent. But even 
 philosophy and patriotism could not always 
 render the breast of their fair and heroic dis- 
 ciple invulnerable to the shaft of love. The 
 young and handsome BehuncCy Major en se^ 
 cond of the regiment of Bourbon, quartered 
 at Caen^ became devoted to her, and succeed- 
 ed to inspire her with a passioaas virtuous as 
 profound. This young officer was massacred 
 on the I ith of August 1789, by a furious mul- 
 titude, after Marat^ in several successive num- 
 bers of his jourhal called U Ami du Peuple, 
 had denounced the uiifortuaate jB^izunce as a 
 counter-revolutionist, 
 
 ^ ■ _ ^_ . ..,. _ 
 
189 
 
 From that moment the soul of Charlotte 
 Cor day knew no happiness, and reposed only 
 on the desire of vengeance upon him whom 
 she believed to be the author of her misery.. 
 
 Her hatred of M^r^/ became yet more ve- 
 hement after the events of the 31st of Majy 
 when she beheld him who had decreed the 
 death of Bd%unce now master as it were of 
 the destiny of France, while the deputiejr, 
 whose principles she loved, and whose talents 
 she honoured, were proscribed, and destitute 
 fugitives, and looking vainly to their country, 
 to Frenchmen, and the laws, to save them 
 from the out-stretched sword of tyranny.— 
 Then it was that Charlotte Corday resolved §0 
 satisfy the vengeance of her love, and snatck 
 her country from the grasp of the tyrant. 
 
 To execute with preservance and caution, 
 that which she had planned upon principle, 
 was natural to the determined and steady mind 
 of Charlotte Corday, She left Caen on the 9th 
 of July 1793, and arrived about noon on the 
 third day at Paris. Some commissions with 
 which she was charged by her family and- 
 
J go 
 
 friends, occupied her the first day after her 
 arrival. Early on the next morning she went 
 to the Palais Royal^ bought a knife, and get- 
 ting into a hackney coach, drove to the house 
 of Marat. It was not then possible for her 
 to obtain an audience of him, though she left 
 nothing unessayed that she thought likely to 
 infiuence, in her favour, the persons who 
 denied her admittance. 
 
 Being returned to her hotel, she wrote the 
 follov/iog letter to Marat i 
 
 ^■' Citizen^ 
 
 I am just arrived from Caen,-*^ 
 Tour love for your country inclines me to 
 suppose you will listen with pleasure to the ' 
 secret events of that part of the republic. I 
 will present myself at your house 5 have the 
 goodness to give orders for my admission, 
 and grant me a moment's private conversation 
 —I can point out the means by which you may 
 render an important service to France." 
 
 In the fear that this letter might not produce 
 the effect she desired upon Marat^ she wrot^ 
 
192 
 
 a second letter still more pressing, which she 
 inteiided to carry with her and leave for him 
 in case she was not received. It was express- 
 ed as follows. *' I wrote to you this morning 
 Citizen Marat. Have you received my letter ? 
 I cannot imagine it is possible you have when 
 I find your door still closed against me. I 
 entreat that you will grant me an interview 
 to-morrow. I repeat-— *that I come from Caen 
 — that I have secrets to reveal to you of the 
 highest importance to the safety of the repub- 
 lic. Besides, I am cruelly persecuted for the 
 cause of liberty. I am unfortunate ; to say 
 
 that, is sufficient to entitle me to your pro- 
 tection." 
 
 It was unnecessary to present the second 
 letter, for when Charlotte Corday arrived a£ 
 the house of Marat between seven and eight 
 in the evening, and spoke impressively of her 
 desire to see him to the women who opened 
 the door, Marat^ who heard her from his 
 bath, where he then was, concluded it w^as 
 the person from whom he had received the 
 letter of the morning ; and ordered that she 
 should immediately be admitted. 
 
192 
 
 Being left alone with him whom she in-, 
 tended to immolate to the manes of her lover 
 and the injuries of her country, and sitting 
 close by his side, she answered, with the most- 
 perfect self-possession, to his eager questions 
 concerning the proscribed Deputies that were 
 at C^ien, He demanded their names, with 
 those of the magistrates of Cahados^ all of 
 whom she named accurately. While he wro^ 
 memorandums of their conversation upon his 
 tablets, Charlotte Corday measured with har 
 eye the spot whereon to strike, when Marai 
 having said that all these Deputies and their 
 accomplices should presently expiate their 
 treason upon the scaffold, her indignation re- 
 eeived his words as the signal of vengeance 
 she snatched the weapon from her bosom, and 
 buried the entire knife in his heart ! A singU 
 exclamation escaped the miserable wretch. : 
 '' Tar me /" he said, and expired* 
 
 Tranquil and unmoved amidst the genera 
 consternation, Charlotte Corday^ as if she pro^ 
 posed to atone for the m^urder, however she 
 deemed it necessary, by a public death, did 
 
^9S 
 
 not even attempt her escape. She had receiV- 
 ed several violent blows on the head from a 
 neighbour of Marat, the person who ran into 
 the room on hearing the news of his assassi- 
 nation ; but when the armed force arrived, 
 she put herself under their protection. Aa 
 officer of the police drew up minutes of the 
 assassination, which she cheerfully signed, 
 and was then conveyed to the prison of the 
 Abbey. 
 
 Calumniated, abused, and even personally 
 ill-treated by the faction of Marat ^ she was 
 three days exposed in her dungeon to all their 
 insults and ill-usage before she was brought 
 to 'trial. During this interval she had found 
 means to write to her father, imploring his 
 forgiveness for having thus disposed of her 
 life v/ichout his concurrence. 
 
 It was in the presence of the men about to 
 decide upon her death that one should have 
 seen Charlotte Corday, to have felt the gran- 
 deur of her character. The records of the 
 trial and, her own letters give but a faint pic- 
 ture of her dignified and noble deportment.—- 
 
194 
 
 If she spoke to her judges, it was neither witl 
 the wild energy of a demoniac, nor did sh( 
 affect the language of innocence ; it was with 
 the self-satisfaction of a voluntary victim, who 
 feels it natural to devote her Hfe to the salva- 
 tion of her country, and who did not wel- 
 come death as the expiation of a crime, but 
 received it as the inevitable consequence of a 
 mighty effort to avenge the injuries of a na- 
 tion. While the curses of an incensed and 
 prejudiced people resounded on all sides, she 
 
 betrayed neither scorn nor indignation. 
 
 When she looked upon the angry multitude 
 her eyes expressed a generous pity for the suf- 
 ferings and delusion of her countrymen. If 
 she despised the men who sat in judgment on 
 her life, she forbore to insult them ; but re- 
 plied to then- reiterated questions with a com- 
 posure and presence of mind that astonished 
 them. Whik her face and person were ani- 
 mated with the bloom of youth and beauty, 
 her words were graced with the eloquence of 
 a sage ! 
 
 The defence made by her Counsel deserves 
 
«95 
 
 to be recorded here for its peculiar propriety 
 iritlier circumstances : 
 
 *' You have heard," said her Counsel, al- 
 together confounded by the courage she had 
 displayed, ** the answers of the prisoner j 
 she acknowledges her guilt ; she even acknow- 
 ledges, in a very deliberate manner, her long 
 premeditation of the event. She has not suf- 
 fered any of the most revolting of its circum- 
 stances to pass unnoticed by you. She con- 
 fesses the whole charge, and does not seek in 
 any manner to justify herself. This immovea- 
 ble temper, this absolute desertion of self, in 
 the very presence, I may say, of death, this 
 absence of all remorse, these are so far from 
 being natural, that they can be only resolved 
 into that polirical phrensy, which places the 
 poniard in the hands of a maniac : and it is for 
 you, citizens jurors, to determine what weight 
 this consideration ought to have in the balance 
 of justice.** 
 
 After the tumult and loud applauses that 
 followed her coudvmnatiou had ceased, she 
 
iv,6 
 
 ^addressed herself to her Counsel •. *' Yoi 
 have defended me," she said, " in a manner 
 as generous as dehcate ; it was the only one 
 that could have rendered me that service v^^hic'h 
 was your object : accept my thanks and my es- 
 teem. These gentlemen inform me that my 
 property is confiscated: but there are some 
 little debts to pay in my prison 5 and as a 
 proof of the esteem I bear you, I give the per- 
 formance of this my last duty into your hands.'* 
 
 The hour of her punishment had drawn im- 
 mense crowds into every avenue to the place 
 of execution. When she appeared alone with 
 the executioner in the cart, in despite of the 
 constrained attitude in which she sat, and of 
 the disor<ier of her dress, (for with a littleness 
 of malice, they had despoiled her of every 
 thing that could contribute to the decency of 
 her appearance) she exci<-ed ti.e silent admira- 
 tion of those even w^ho were hired to curse 
 her. One man alone had courage torai^e his 
 voice in her praise : he was a Deputy from the 
 city of Meutz ; his name was ./'dam Lux, He 
 cried: Bbe is greater than Brutus! lie pub- 
 
r97 
 
 Ikhed the same sentimenf, and signed hisowa 
 condeamatiun. He was shortly after guillo- 
 tined. 
 
 The wife of Lepinai^ a General in the Ven^ 
 •dean dTiny^ was impris. ned at Nantes^ and at- 
 tended by a young girl a native ot Cbdtelle* 
 rauit^ so faithfully attached to the service of 
 her mistress that she had followed her to pri- 
 son ! One day the soldiers arrived to sum- 
 mon the prisoners who were destined to death. 
 The young girl heard Madame Leplnai called, 
 who had but an instant before retired to her 
 chamber, triad of such an opportunity to 
 save the life of her beloved mistress, she pre- 
 sented herself, and answered to the name 
 The affectionate girl was instantly led away 
 with the other prisoners, and precipitated a- 
 mong the waves of the Loire^ in the place af 
 •Madame Lapinai, 
 
 We may place on the list of extraordinary 
 'sacrifices the unhappy wife who yielded up 
 
 8 
 
2 98 
 
 ^lierhoRour,as the price of her fcusband^s HJe 
 and liberty. Though we cannot applaud, we 
 must pity the unfortunate v/oman, thrown by 
 a cruel fate into the hands of a proconsul, 
 \^'hose obdurate soul was inaccessible to every 
 sentiment of humanity and virtue. This in- 
 famous seducer, this attrocious barbarian, sent 
 bis miserable victim to the scaffold along with 
 her husband ! Who can paint thehoiror of 
 hjr remorse when she beheld the inutility of 
 her sacrifice in her husband's condemnation ! 
 She died dishonored and despairing, and the 
 sighf of him, whose life she had so tenderly 
 and fatally cherished, served but to embiuer 
 her last moments ! 
 
 We will finibh this arricle with the relation 
 of a generous sacrifice, >ree from stain, and 
 which evtn brings a consolatiunior ever) pang 
 it mflicLs on Iteimg minds : 
 
 It is well known that Le TiL'icr, the faith ful 
 doiiiestic oj tile ix-uiivcur tartLt cny^ iil- 
 Si:stea upcn g^-ing wuh him mio tXii«., anu pat- 
 
E99 
 
 lalclngpf his misfortunes. It became the chsrac- 
 ter of BartUIeniy to see virtues multiply round 
 him ; and it was most consoling to him, before 
 lie quitted France, to leave a monument of 
 the interest which his worth could inspire 
 uhere esteem was not lost in prejudice and 
 party rageo 
 
 BarlbeLmy), vvith the companions of his 
 
 banishinent, quitted P.iris on the 23d Frucii- 
 
 dor*, 5th year of the Republic, and arrived 
 
 ztCr leans on the evening of the same day. 
 
 Before they reached the town the Constituted 
 
 Authorities had sent to inform Dw/.?r/r^, who 
 
 cammanded their escort, that they could not 
 
 lodge his prisoners in any safe place except 
 
 the Convent of UrsuUnes, To this place they 
 
 U'ere accordingly led, where they were intro« 
 
 duced into a great hall, in which sixteen beds 
 
 had been hastily prepared, and where all was 
 
 in confusion, several womenbeing actually then 
 
 employed in scouring and cleaning the room. 
 
 While this passed, an officer of the Gendear^ 
 
 'mrie drew near Barthekmy^ who stood by the^ 
 
 * August 179-7, . 
 
200 
 
 fire place, and said to him ma low voice, an^ 
 without having the air of one speaking to 
 another : " 1 here is a person here who brings 
 jou news of your family." 
 
 Bartbekmy, who had hitherto preserved a 
 most perfect serenity of mind, started at these 
 unexpected words, and could not restrain hk 
 tears. The officer, v.'ithoat waiting for his an- 
 swer, continued in the following manner * 
 ^^ The w^omen that you see cleaning the room 
 are here by the direction of the Municipality, 
 Cneof them, whom you will easily distinguish 
 by her air, has disguised herself for this office 
 that she may attend on you and your compa- 
 nions- Her name is Madame ^ hoinet ; she is 
 the widow of a rich merchant of Nantes : her 
 family has been so much persecuted in that 
 town that she is retired hither. She was inti- 
 mately acquainted with one of your brothers 
 at Nanles ; she has just received intelligence 
 from him at Paris, which she Vv^ill communi- 
 nicate to you. Be careful that you are not 
 observed in speaking to her ; you will com- 
 prehend the danger she incurs in this enter« 
 prize.'* 
 
A numerous guard was placed both at the* 
 door and within the hall, notwithstanding 
 which Barthelemy approached the lady: sor- 
 row was pictured on her countenance. 
 When she saw Barthelemy near enough, she 
 said to him, still continuing her employment^ 
 that his brother had requested her to gain eve- 
 ry information she could respecting him and 
 Le Tellier^ and to render what service she 
 could to both. She afterwards made many 
 enquiries of Barthelemy ^ which he answered % 
 and he begged of her to furnish himself and 
 he Tellier with some clothes they wanted* 
 Madame Thai net sent her maidservant, who 
 had also been admitted among the work-wa- 
 men, and was allowed to go out and return 
 without question, for these articles. 
 
 Madame Thoinet did not only express to Bar'- 
 ihelemy her commiseration of his misfortune, 
 she went up to the voluntary companion of 
 his sufferings, felicitated him on- his attach*- 
 ment to his master, and vv^armly expressed ta 
 Mm the deep sense she had of his rare virtue^. 
 
502 
 
 She afterwards went round to all Barihek- 
 mfs companions, ofFerlng them money, linen 
 and clothesj and whatever they wanted she 
 sent her servant oat to procure for them. 
 During the whole of the evening Madame 
 Ihoinet indulged in this happy employment, 
 favored as she was by the confusion that per- 
 vaded the hall j but her too lively feeling fre- 
 quently gave the greatest inquietude to her 
 friends lest it should betray her. After she 
 had furnished them with whatever they want- 
 ed, she informed them she should set oft ear- 
 ly the next morning for Parisy and that she 
 would charge herself with their letters, and 
 deliver them safely. The prisoners were per- 
 mittcd to write to their relations, but they 
 were compelled to send their letters open ta 
 General Dtderire^ from whom they passed ta 
 the Directory, who communicated to their fa- 
 milies only what portion of them they thought 
 proper. The prisoners wrote letters, which 
 they sent to the General, and at the same 
 time wrote others, which they committe4 
 to the care of Madame IboineU 
 
203 
 
 Durisig supper she waited at table with an 
 texpression of affection and pleasure thjt en- 
 creased the veneration conceived for her cha- 
 racter by the prisoners, and for a moment re- 
 lieved them from half the weight of their 
 disgrace. She remained in the hall with them ^ 
 as late as possible, and then, unknown to 
 them she retired to a small room near the hall^ 
 where she passed the remainder of the night, . 
 She felt an indiscribable satisfaction in watch- 
 ing over them and near them, without reflect 
 ing how much it enhanced her own danger* 
 
 With minds full of gratitude to this extra- 
 ordinary woman, Barthelemy and his compani- 
 ons quitted Orleans the next morning, and 
 halted in a little village between that city and 
 Blois, The dinner was long in being served 
 up, and making enquiry into the cause, they 
 found that General Dutertre and other princi- 
 pal officers of the escort were not yet arrived 
 from Orleans, Their terror was extreme, and 
 the object of their fears Madame Tboinet* 
 The General had never before quitted the es- 
 cort, and some unfortunate affair must have 
 
204 
 
 detained Win at Orleans. The conduct of Mad. 
 Tho'met had, no doubt, drawn the observation 
 of some of the guard : the General had ar- 
 rested her ; their letters had been fo und upon 
 her, and this woman would become the vic- 
 tim of her generosity ! The prisoners were 
 afflicted with these painful surmises till the ar- 
 rival of the General, when they learnt, that 
 he had remained a little longer at Orleans for 
 reasons that only regarded himself.. 
 
 The joy of Barthelemy and his companions 
 may well be imagined : they were then at li- 
 berty to give themselves up without reserve to 
 the remembrance of the noble conduct of their 
 benefactress ; how often and how much did 
 that ameliorate their sufferings in their painful 
 career ! , 
 
 It was to the sentiment of gratitude that we 
 owe the knowledge of the story we now re- 
 late. At his return to Europe Barthelemy 
 made it public. Let the reader imagine to 
 Mniself this most estimable man, honoured 
 
20S 
 
 throughout Europe, simple in his manners, 
 and more sensible to the good offices he had 
 received from a few virtuous persons, than to 
 the persecutions of his enemies ! let the reader 
 picture such a man at the moment that he is 
 eagerly rendering the homage due to this nq- 
 ble- minded woman! 
 
 " When I returned to Europe,'* said Ke; 
 ^^ my first care was to make enquiries after 
 Madame Thoinet ; I felt the most lively plea- 
 sure in learning that she had incurred no mis- 
 fortune by her generous conduct to me and 
 my companions at Orleans, But of how short 
 duration was that pleasure! it was quickly 
 succeeded by the most profound grief. Let 
 those barbarous and cruel men, who are dis- 
 posed to make a crime of her humane exerti- 
 ons in our behalf, gratify their malice in learn- 
 ing that new and unexpected misfortunes pur- 
 sued her. Last year a military guard entered 
 a country house situated near Ancenis^ belong- 
 ing to Madame Ihoinet^ where they found 
 two young men, the eldest of whom was six- 
 teen years of age : w^ithout enquiry they were 
 
2o6 
 
 enlarged with being Chouans^ and shot m thi 
 very room where they were found ; one o 
 them was the son of Madams Iboinet I Un 
 fortunate v/om^n ! we who owed so much a 
 j^our generosity, believe that we partake. I 
 your sutferings," 
 
CHAP. IX. 
 
 GRATITUDE- 
 
 URING the unhappy days of Septem« 
 ber, 1792*, a woman conctiVed the pro- 
 ject of rendering funeral honors, from mo- 
 tives of gratitude, to her confessor, whom 
 she understood to be massacred at the prison 
 Des Cannes. As she intently dwelt upon this 
 idea, she heard an extraordinary cry in the 
 street, by which she was drawn to the win- 
 dow : she saw a cart passing filled with dead 
 bodies, and- among them recogni>ed the person 
 of her confessor .1 A surgeon, one of her 
 neighbours, happered to be with her ; po'nt- 
 ii)g out the body, she entreatedhim to go and 
 purchase it of the driver. \ ielding to her 
 Ciitreaties, the surgeon went to the driverj 
 and telling him his p- ofession, said he wished 
 to purchase one of the bodies for dissecriouo 
 The driver aisked hm twenty crowns, permit- 
 ing hiui to take hi? choice. He paid the mo^ 
 ritjy and took the body poiiUta out to hini^ 
 
5o8 
 
 ir/hich he caused to be conveyed into the house 
 of his friend : but what was the surgeon's sur- 
 "pri'-e when he saw the priest on his feet 1 
 Clothes being procured for him, and being in 
 the presence of his benefacrress, he said, 
 '^ When I saw my brethren massacred at Des 
 Cannes^ I imagined it possible to save my life 
 by throwing myself among the dead bodies as 
 one of them. I wa- stripped, and thrown into 
 the cart in v/hich you saw me. I did not re- 
 ceive a single wound ; the blood with which 
 you saw me covered was that of the carcases 
 with which 1 was confounded. Receive, my 
 benefactress, the most grateful thanks! It is 
 probable, that, thrown into a quary with the 
 bodit s of my unfortunate companions, I should 
 have pt^rished there ! All three then fell on 
 their knees, and returned thanks to HeaveEi 
 i^x this singular deliverance. 
 
^o^^ 
 
 CHAP. S* 
 
 SINGULAR DISINtERESrEDNES'Si,' 
 
 f N 1792, a poor womaawith several children 
 »- was made the repository of a large sum o£ 
 money, which she was permitted to appropri^ 
 ate to her own use, if the person who placed 
 it in her hands died without children, and ia 
 ca^e of distress, to take part of it for her relief* 
 Some time after she fell sick, and suffered un- 
 der every species of want. She endured two 
 years of extreme distress, without ever believ-* 
 ing that her wants were sufficiently great to al* 
 low of her taking any of the money. She was 
 afterwards informed of the death oPthe pro- 
 prietor of the money. Her conduct was still 
 the same, for she did not know that he had not 
 left any children. Four years passed on, and 
 she was unshaken in her resolution. *' If there 
 are no children," she said, " there may still 
 be heirs, and if no heirs, creditors!" Mean* 
 time infirmities and distress encreased upon 
 
 T 
 
2 1^ 
 
 tier, but hef greatest anxiety waSj lest she 
 should die without giving the deposit to the 
 proper owner. At length she heard that the 
 person who had placed it in her hands, had 
 married in Prussia, and had left children. She 
 informed the widow instantly of the deposit, 
 who would gladly have rewarded her fidelity^ 
 but she would take no part of the money. 
 
 " All that 1 desire,'* said this poor woman^ 
 
 ^'is, that you will preserve the remembrance of 
 
 one who had a most profound respect for your 
 
 husband, and who dies happy to have rendered 
 
 -a service to his family.** 
 
 A feniale servant in a house of arrest al 
 Bourdeaux'y had inspired two young men with 
 confidence in her humanity, by the gentleness 
 of her manners. They then endeavoured, by 
 the relation of their misfortunes, to persuade 
 her to aid them in their escape. She consent- 
 ed, and provided the means. Before they de- 
 parted they each offered her an asslgnat of 500 
 francs j she said, '' You do not deserve the 
 service 1 would render you, as you imagine I 
 am iuflueaced by the motive of gain." 
 
21 i 
 
 It was In vain they represented that the mo=a 
 ney was offered to enable her to escape and 
 provide for her wantSj in case she should be 
 suspected of aiding their flight. They soora 
 found they must either cease to specCk of 
 the money, or renounce her assistance. They 
 then merely demanded what pledge they 
 should leave her of their gratitude. " Em- 
 brace me/' said she, " as brothers that are 
 about to leave a sister, I will receive no 
 other pledgee'^ 
 
SIS 
 
 CHAP, XI. 
 
 COURAGE INSPIRED BY THE HATRED OF 
 CRIM|;S. 
 
 JUDGE of the Revolutionary Com- 
 mission at Lyons^ whose name will ne- 
 ver be heard without horror in that city, one 
 day acGompanied an amiable family, into 
 v/hose society he was admitted in the hope of 
 saving a beloved father, on a party of pleasure 
 into the country. The serenity of the air, the 
 beauty of the retreat to which they went, and 
 above all, that secret influence which the 
 scenes of nature exercises over hearts the most 
 obdurate, even softened that of the Revoluti- 
 onary Judge. He was seated beside a lovely 
 -^Tidi interesting girl 5 he talked to her of the 
 hardships of his occupations — 'He even at- 
 tempted to paint the happiness of loving. — 
 She had Hstened without murmuring, and 
 even answered him whh her accustomed sweet- 
 ness, till the judge, yielding to the emotions- 
 
213 
 
 her beauty inspired, dared to take her hand,- 
 and carry it to his lips. The Hghtning is not 
 more swift than the indignation of this lovely 
 girl. She sprang from her seat, " What," 
 she cried, rubbing the place which his lips had 
 pressed, *' shall your hand touch mine — that 
 hand that has so often signed the warrant of 
 death — Has it not stained me with blood 1'* 
 The judge was overwhelmed with confusion^, 
 and vainly assayed to stammer out an inco^; 
 herent apology,. 
 
 A married woman who had lived in the 
 most perfect harmony with her husband, on 
 a sudden demanded a divorce, alledging in- 
 compatibility of temper. Her astonished pa- 
 rents entreated to be informed of her secret 
 motives for dissolving a union in which she 
 had so long appeared to enjoy happiness ; but 
 she resolutely persisted in sighs and silence. 
 At length they learned from her counsel, that 
 her husband had returned to her during the 
 days oi Sepumbsry covered with blood, and had 
 
boasted to fier""of the number of massacres 6« 
 had assisted ta perform, during that dreadful 
 epochs?. 
 
 The young wife would no longer endure t<2 
 live with a monster whose barbarity dishon- 
 oured her, yet wished not to expose him t^: 
 the hatred of his fellow- citizens, who were ig- 
 norant of his atrocity. There remained bul 
 one choice for her to make; she demanded j 
 divorce, which satisfied her delicacy, while 
 preserved her from violating a feeling of hu 
 inanity towards the man she had once belies, 
 ed to be worthy of her affections. 
 
CHAP. XIL 
 
 PATRIOTISM., 
 
 THIS sentiment so honourable and so gene-^ 
 rous in itself, but which has too often 
 during the course of the Revolution served to 
 mask the atrocious designs of men, whose 
 corrupt hearts were instigated by ambition to 
 the perpetration of the most horrid crimes, has 
 often instigated women to noble deeds, and 
 rendered them illustrious in the history of tke 
 Revolution, We do not speak of those who, * 
 supposing they have thrown themselves into 
 a patriotic career, have only consigned thek 
 names to ridicule, for their false pretensions 
 and real unworthiness. We speak only of 
 those whose patriotism is solids and who are 
 few in number. 
 
 History will not f^il to praise those women, 
 the wives and daughters of celebrated artists, 
 who made an offering to the National i\ssem« 
 bly of their jewels, as a voluntary contributioa 
 towards the reduction of the national debt. 
 
On the 7th of Sep f ember , 1789, a group of 
 women presented themselves at the bar of the 
 National -Assembly. One of them, Madame 
 Mchfe, was honored with the title of their 
 speaker, and addressed the assembly in these 
 words : — 
 
 *^ GENTLEME>7, 
 
 "The regeneration of the state willbe^ 
 the work of the representatives of the nation. 
 
 ** The preservation of the credit of the state 
 is the duty of all good citizens. 
 
 "When the Roman v/omen presented their 
 jewels to the senate, it was to procure the- 
 gold necessary to accomplish a vow made to = 
 Apollo* 
 
 ** The engagements of the state to its cre- 
 ditors ought to be as sacred from violation as 
 the Roman vow. The public debt should be 
 faithfully discharged, and by means that are 
 not burdensome to the people.. 
 
 " It is with this design that we, the wives 
 and daughters of artists, come to offer to the 
 
2^7 
 
 august National Assembly, the jewels we 
 should blush to wear when patriotism demands 
 their sacrifice. Ah, where is the woman who 
 \^ould not feel the same inexpressible satisfac- 
 tion in devoting her oi;naments to so noble a 
 purpose ? 
 
 ** Our offering is of little value, but artists 
 seek glory rather than fortune. Our offering 
 is proportioned to our means, and to the sen<» 
 timent by which we are inspired. 
 
 *' May our example be followed by citizens 
 whose power greatly surpasses ours ! It wilt 
 be so, gentlemen, if you condescend to re- 
 ceive our gift^ and if you will facilitate to all 
 good patriots the means of offering their vo- 
 luntary contributions, by opening a bank for 
 the reception of gifts in jewels or money, to 
 establish a fund that shall be invariably devot- 
 ed to the payment of the national nebt." 
 
 Such was the address of these patriotic 
 French women. Let us record their names^, 
 it is to secure to them th« gratitude and admi- 
 ratioa of posterity^ 
 
"{%' 
 
 MESDAMES i 
 
 Mcitfe^ president and author of the project 
 '^^VieU'^Delagreneey the younger — Juvee — ^ 
 Bermer — Duvivier-^Belle — Fragonard-^Vesiier 
 P er on-^ D avid— Ver net ^ the younger — Des}nar» 
 Uause-'^Bea uvalet-^ Cornedercerf. 
 
 MESDEMOISELLES : 
 
 Vasse de Bonrecueil — Vestier — Ger^rd-^Fi* 
 thend — Dfsiefville — Hauttemps^ 
 
2i$ 
 
 CHAP. Xllh 
 
 Female fortitude.'' 
 
 NE evening, a short period before his 
 family left France, a party of those mur- 
 derers, who were sent for by Robespierre, from 
 the frontiers which divided France from Italy^ 
 and who were by that arch fiend employed in 
 all butcheries and massacres of Paris, entered 
 the peaceful village of ia Reine^ in search of 
 
 Monsieur 0- •. His lady saw them advanc-" 
 
 ing, and anticipating their errand, had just time 
 to give her husband intelligence of their ap* 
 proach, who left his chateau by a back door^ 
 and secreted himself in the house of a neigh- 
 boui' Madame O — — -, with perfect compo- 
 'sure, went out to meet them, and received 
 them in the most gracious manner. — ihey 
 
 sternly demanded Monsieur : she in« 
 
 formed them that he had left the country, and 
 after engaging them in conversation, she con- 
 ducted them to her drawing room, and re^ 
 
2fO 
 
 galed them with her best wineSj and rnade h^f 
 servants attend upon them with unusual defer- 
 ence and ceremony. Their appearance was 
 altogether horrible ; they wore leather aprons^ 
 which were sprinkled all over with blood ; 
 they had large horse-pistols in their belts, and 
 a dirk and a sabre by their side. Their looks 
 were full of ferocity, and they spoke a harsh 
 dissonant patois language. Over their cups 
 they talked about the bloody business of that 
 day's occupation, in thie course of which they 
 drew out their dirks, and wiped from their 
 handles clots of blood and hair. Madame 
 ■ ■ sat with them undismayed at their 
 frightful deportment. After drinking several 
 bottles of Champaign and Burgundy, these 
 savages l3egan to grow good humored ; and 
 seemed to be completely fascinated by the a- 
 miable and unembarrassed, and hospitable 
 behaviour of their fair landlady, — After ca* 
 rousing until midnight, they pressed her to 
 retire, observing, that they had been received 
 so handsomely that they were convinced Men* 
 
 sieur had been misrepresented, and 
 
 "was no enemy to the ^ood cause j they added 
 
221 
 
 that they found the wines excellent, and after 
 drinking two or three bottles more, they 
 would leave the house, without causing her 
 any reason to regret their admission. 
 
 Madame , with all the appearance of 
 
 perfect tranquility and confidence in their pro. 
 mises, wished her unwelcome visitors a good 
 night, and, after visiting her children in their 
 rooms, she threw herself upon her bedj 
 with a loaded pistol in each hand ; overwhelm- 
 ed with suppressed agony and agitation, she 
 soundly slept till she was called by her servants, 
 two hours after these wretches had left the 
 house. 
 
 About the same period, two of the children 
 of Monsieur were in Paris at school. 
 
 A rumor had reached him, that the teachers 
 of the seminary in which they were placed, 
 had offended the government, and were like- 
 ly to be butchered, and that the carnage 
 which was expected to take place might, in its 
 undistinguishing fury, extend to the pupils. 
 Immediately upon receiving this intelligence 
 
 U 
 
22 2 
 
 Monsieur 0- — — ordered his carriage, for thd 
 purpose of proceeding to town. Madame 
 
 O implored him to permit her to accom- 
 
 pany him, in vain did he beseech her to re-; 
 main at home : the picture of danger which 
 he painted, only rendered her more determin- 
 ed. She mounted the carriage, and seated 
 herself by the side of her husband. When 
 they arrived at Paris^ they were stopped in 
 the middle of the street St, Honon'e, by th 
 massacre of a large number- of prisoners who 
 had just been taken out of a church, which 
 had been converted into a prison.. Their ears 
 were pierced with screams. Many of the 
 miserable victims v/ere cut dovpn, clinging to 
 the windov7s of their carriages. During the 
 dreadful delays which she suffered in passing 
 through this street, Madame G — - — discover 
 cd no sensations of alarm, but stedfastly fix 
 
 ed her eyes uoonthe back of the coach-box^ 
 
 . . , . , -^ 
 
 to avoid as mucli as possible, observing 'the 
 
 butcheries which were perpetrating on each^ 
 
 side- of her. ^ 
 
 Had she been observed to close her eyes or 
 ^Sit back in the carriage^ she would have excit| 
 
22J 
 
 ed a suspicion, which, no doubt, would have 
 proved fatal to her. At length, she reached 
 the school which contained her children, 
 w^'here she found the rumor which they had 
 received was without foundation ; she calmly 
 conducted them to the carriage, and during 
 their gloomy return through P^m, betrayed 
 no emotion ; but as soon as they had passed 
 the barrier, and were once more in safety up- 
 on the road to their peaceful chateau, the 
 exulting mother, in an agony of joy, pressed 
 her children to her bosom, and in a state of 
 mind wrought up to phrenzy, arrived at her 
 own house in convulsions of ghastly laughter* 
 
 MonsieutM^ 0- (from whom Mr, Carr re- 
 ceived these relations, at the cl^ateau of the 
 former) never spoke of this charming woman 
 without the strongest emotions of regard. 
 He said that in sickness she suffered no one to 
 attend upon him but herself; that in all his 
 ♦afflictions she had supported him, and that 
 she mitigated the deep melancholy which the 
 sufferings of his country and his own priVa- 
 tions had fixed upon him, by the well-timed 
 
224 
 
 sallies of her elegant fancy, or by the charms- 
 of her various accomplishments. 
 
 I found myself, (adds Mr. Carr, with a 
 compliment that seems very justly due) a gain- 
 er in the article of delight, by leaving the 
 gayest metropolis that Europe can present to 
 a traveller^ for the sake of visiting such a 
 
SKETCHES 
 
 OF THE LIVES OF SOME OF THE MOST CELE^ 
 BRATED WOMEN OF FRANCE, PRE- 
 VIOUS TO THE REVOLUTION, 
 
 yoan of Arc^ Maid of Or leans i. 
 
 FTER the death of Henry, V. king of 
 England, who for some time reigned ab- 
 solute in France, though without the title of 
 king, (which, however, was assured to him 
 and his descendants after the death of Charles 
 VL who survived him but two months) the 
 regency of that kingdom was left to his bro- 
 ther, the duke. of Bedford, one of the most 
 accomplished princes of the age, whose expe- 
 rience, prudence, valor, and generosity en- 
 abled him to maintain union among his friends^ . 
 and to gain the confidence of his eaemies* 
 
 U Z: 
 
1.2S 
 
 Charles ViL though inferior in power, was 
 possessed of many great advantages in the af- 
 fections of all Frenchmen, who desired the 
 independence of their country. The city of 
 Orleans^ the most important place in the king- 
 dom, was besieged by Bedford^ as a step 
 which would prepare the way for the conquest 
 of all France. The French king used every 
 expedient to supply the city with a garrison 
 and provisions ; and the English left no me- 
 thod unemployed for reducing it. The eyes 
 of all Europe were turned towards thrs scene 
 of action, where it was reasonably supposed 
 the French were to make their last stand for 
 maintaining the independence of their monar- 
 chy, and the rights of their sovereign. Af- 
 ter numberless feats of valor on both sides, 
 the attack was so vigorously pushed by the 
 English, that Charles gave up the city as lost^ 
 when relief was brought from a very unex- 
 pected quarter. 
 
 In the village of Domremi^ near Vaucouleuny, 
 on the borders of Lor rain, lived a country 
 girL whose name was Joan d' drc ; and who^ 
 
22/ 
 
 in the humble station of servant at an inn, had 
 been accustomed to tend " the horees of the 
 guestf, to ride them without a saddle to the 
 watering place, and to perform olher ofHces, 
 which commonly fall to the share of men-ser- 
 vants. This girl, infiuencd by the frequent 
 accounts of the rencounters at the siege Oi 
 Orleans, and affected v^ith the distresses of her 
 country and youthful monarch, was seized 
 with a wild desire of bringing relief to him ia 
 his present unhappy circumstanees. Her in* 
 experienced mind, working day smd n'ght on 
 this favorite object, mistook the impulses of 
 passion for heavenly inspirations ; she fancied 
 she saw visions, and heard voices, exhorting 
 fier to re-establish the throne of France, and 
 .expel the foreign invaders. An uncornmoit 
 intrepidity of spirit made her divine mission 
 dispel all that bashfulucss so natural to her 
 sex, her years and low condition^ She went 
 to Vaucoukursy procured admission to Baudri- 
 court the governor, and informed him of her 
 inspirations and intentions. Baudrkouri ob^ 
 served something extraordinary in the maid^ 
 or saw the use that might be made of suvh aa 
 
engine, and sent her to the French court, 
 which then resided at Chinon, 
 
 Joan was no sooner introduced to the king^ 
 than she offered, in the name of the Supreme 
 Creator, to raise the siege of Orleans^ and 
 conduct him to Rheims^ to be there crowned 
 and anointed : and she demanded, as the in- 
 strument of her future victories, a particular 
 sword, which was kept in the church of Si^ 
 Catherine de Fierbois, The more the king and 
 his ministers were determined to give into the 
 illusion, the more scruples they pretended. 
 An assembly of grave and learned divines 
 was appointed, to examine her mission ; and 
 pronounced it undoubted and supernatural. 
 Her request was granted | she was armed^ 
 cap-ape J mounted on horseback, and shown^. 
 in that martial habiliment, to the whole peo- 
 ple. Her dexterity in managing her steed, 
 though acquired in her former station, was 
 regarded as a fresh proof of her mission ; her 
 former occupation was even denied ; she was 
 converted into a shepherdess, an employment 
 mors agreeable to the fancy. Some years 
 
sag 
 
 were subtracted from her zge; m order to 
 excite still more admiration ; and she was re- 
 ceived with. the loudest acclamations, by per- 
 sons of all ranks. 
 
 The English at first affected to speak with 
 derision of the maid and her heavenly mis- 
 sion ; but were secretly struck with the strong 
 persuasion which prevailed in all around them* 
 They found their courage daunted, by de- 
 grees, and thence began to infer a divine 
 vengeance hanging over them. A silent asto- 
 nishment reigned among those troops, former- 
 ly so elated with victory, and so fierce for 
 the combat. The maid entered the city of 
 Orleans at the head of^ a convoy, array >^d in 
 her miUtary garb, and displaying her conse* 
 crated standard^ She was received as a celes- 
 tial deliverer by the garrison and its inhabi- 
 tants ; and with the instructions of count Dih 
 nois, commonly called the Bastard of Orleans^ 
 who commanded in that place, she actually 
 obliged the English to raise the siege of that 
 city, after driving them, from their entrench- 
 ments, and defeating them in several despe- 
 rate attacks. 
 
2^0 
 
 Raising the siege of Orleans was one part 
 of the maid's promise to Charles : crowning 
 him at Rheims was the other \ anj she now - 
 vehemently insisted, that he should set out \_ 
 immediately on that journey. A few weeks , 
 before, such a proposal would have appeared 
 altogether extravagant. Rheims lay in a dis- \ 
 tant quarter of the kingdom ; was then in the 
 hands of a victorious enemv ; the whole road 
 that led to it was occupied by their garrisons ; 
 and no imagination could have been so san- 
 guine as to hope, that such an attempt could | 
 possibly be carried into execution. But, as ^ 
 things had now taken a turn, and it was. ex- 
 tremely the interest of the king of France to 
 maintain the belief of something extraordi- 
 nary and divine in these events, he resolved 
 to com.ply with her exhortations, and avail 
 himself of the present consternation of the 
 English. He accordingly set out for Rhems^ 
 at the head of twelve thousand men, and 
 scarcely perceived as he passed along, that he 
 was marching through an enemy's country. 
 Every place opened its gates to him j Rheims- 
 sent him its keys, and the ceremony of his^ 
 
inauguration was performed with the holy oil, 
 which a pidgeon is said to have brought from 
 heaven to Clo'vis, on the first establishment of 
 the French monarchy. 
 
 As a mark of his gratitu4e, Charles had a 
 medal struck in her honor. On one side-was 
 her portrait, on the other a hand holding a 
 sword with these words, Consiiio confirmaia 
 Dei, '' Sustained by the assistance of God." 
 The king also ennobled all her family, as well 
 in the male as in the female hne ; the former 
 became extinct in 1760. In 1614, the latter, 
 at the request of the procurator-general, were 
 deprived of the priveiege of ennobling their 
 children, independent of their husband. Ihe 
 town of Dornremiy albo, where she was born, 
 was exempted from ail taxes, aids, and sub- 
 sidies forever. 
 
 The Maid of Orleans^ as she is called, de- 
 clared, after this coronation, that her micsion 
 was now accoLnplIshed ; and ei: pressed her in- 
 clination to retire to the occupations and course 
 of hfo which became*ier sex, But Dunois, 
 sensible of the great advantages vn hlch might 
 
232 
 
 be reaped from her presence in the army, ex- 
 horted her to persevere, till the final expulsion 
 of the English. In pursuance of this advice, 
 she threw herself into the town of Com/>iegney 
 at that time besieged by the duke of Burgundy^ 
 assisted by the earls of Aurundel and Suffolk. 
 The garrison, on her appearance, believed 
 themselves invincible. But their joy was of 
 short duration. The maid, after performing 
 prodigies of valor, was taken prisoner in a 
 sally ; and the duke of Bedford^ resolved up- 
 on her ruin, ordered her to be tried by the 
 ecclesiastical court for sorcery, impiety, idol- 
 atry and magic. She was found guilty by 
 her ignorant or iniquitous judges, of all those 
 crimes, aggravated by heresy. Ker revela- 
 tions w^ere declared to be inventions of the de- 
 vil, to delude the people. No efforts were 
 made by the French court to deliver her ; and 
 this admirable heroine was cruelly delivered 
 over alive to the flames, at the age of nine- 
 teen, A. D. 143!, and expiated by the pun- 
 ishment of fire, the signal services which she 
 had rendered to her prihce and native country* 
 
^33 
 
 Joan appears not only to have been a vir- 
 tuous and heroic character, but to have pos- 
 sessed that truth and sensibility, which should, 
 and perhaps always does, accompany true ge- 
 nius. Her manner is recorded to have beea 
 mild and gentle, when unarmed, though cou- 
 rageous in the field. She was frequently 
 wounded ; and once drawing out the English 
 arrow, cried out, *' It is glory and not bloody 
 which flows from this wound !" and whea 
 mounting the fatal pile, though her face was 
 covered with tears, she said, " God be bles- 
 sed I'' 
 
 Constance de Ctseliy wife of Barri de S, Junez, 
 
 The town of Leucaies^ in Languedoc, being 
 besieged by the faction of the league in 1590, 
 M, de Barri, who was the governor, was 
 taken prisoner, under pretence of demanding 
 an interview with him. He, however, con- 
 trived at the moment, to write to his wife, 
 whose talents and courage he v;as well ac- 
 quainted with. He begged her to take the 
 
 W 
 
command of the town, and to defend it t 
 the last extremity. Not losing a moment^ 
 time, she obeyed him, maintaining order ancl 
 shewing herself often upon the walls with aj 
 pike in her hand, encouraging the garrison 
 by -her example. When the assailants perceivi 
 ed her plans and intrepidity, they sought to 
 intimidate her by threaterdng to put her hus^ 
 band to death, if she did . not give up the 
 place. She had large possessions, and ofFere 
 all willingly to ransom him ; but said she 
 1^'ould not buy even his life by an act of perfiS 
 dy, at which he w-ould bl.ish. They put him 
 likewise to the most cruel tortures, that he 
 might command his wife to open jhe gates to^ 
 them; but he braved their menaces; andj 
 being obliged to raise the siege, they were at- 
 trocious enough to strangle him. 
 
 On receiving this news. Madame de Barr. 
 was struck with grirf and horror ; but feeling 
 that a christian must not give way to ven 
 geance, she opposed the wishes of the garri- 
 son to make reprisals on some gentlemen whc 
 v/ere their prisoners ; and, in the hour of an 
 guish, exerted herself to save their iives. 
 
^35 
 
 To do honor to her virtue, Henry IV. com- 
 manded her still to enjoy the government of 
 Leuca.es^ uhieh she held for twenty-sev^a 
 years. 
 
 Mademoiselle Bonmere, 
 
 This lady's father and mother, having been 
 guilty of some state crime,' were imprisoned 
 for life, but indulged with possessing one an^ 
 other's company. Mademouelle Bonmere^ born 
 under this durance, lived till the 35th year of 
 her age, and could scarce have been said to 
 hare seen day-light. The death of her very 
 learned and ingenious parents, which happen- 
 ed within a few days of each other, gave her 
 liberty, but deprived her of the only two 
 friends, or even acquaintances^ she \izA m the 
 world, excepting those hard bemgs who are 
 entrusted with the care of prisoners. Thu^s- 
 turned into the world, v/ithout money, friend?, 
 or practical knowledge, though excellently 
 instructed in the theory, she determined io 
 avail herself of rather a macculine form, and 
 hard features, and appeared in man's apparel^. 
 
236 
 
 in which she entered as a private soldier in a 
 regiment of foot, and gave so many instances 
 of personal bravery, as uell as integrity, that 
 she obtained the employment of adjutant and 
 pay master of the corps, 
 
 She wrote memoirs of her own times, which 
 "we believe were never printed ; but JVJrs. 
 Thicknesse^ who had seen them in MSS. speaks 
 of them in the highest style of encomium. 
 
 Philis de la Tour du Pin-Gowverne, Mademol' 
 selle de la Charc€y a French Heroine of the 
 
 sevsnieenih century, 
 
 Cn the attack the duke of Savoy made upon 
 Dauphinym \6g2j this courageous lady arm- 
 ed the villages in her department^ put herself 
 at their head, and, by little skirmishes, har" 
 rassed the enemy in the mountains, and con- 
 tributed very much to make them abandon 
 the country . In the mean time, her mother 
 exhorted the people in the plains to remain 
 faithful to their duty ; and her sister caused 
 the cables of the boats to be cut, so that they 
 
could be of no use to ttiem. Lewis XIV. gave- 
 Mademoiselle de la Charce2i ^tmion^ and per- 
 mitted her to place her sword and armour in - 
 the treasury of ^^t* Denis* 
 
 Claude'Catherine de Clermont, daughter of Cler" 
 7nonty lord of Dampierre, wife first of M. d^ 
 Annebaut, who perished in the civil wars of 
 France ; afterwards of Albert^ duke de Metz ; ■ 
 lady of Honor to Catherine de Medicisy and 
 governess to the royal children. Died 1603 y- 
 aged 6^* 
 
 She was an only daughter^ and received a 
 most careful education, being habituated to 
 study from her early youth, and inured to 
 close application, which neither injured her 
 health or her beauty. During the absence or 
 her second husband, who was successively am* 
 bassador in England, Germany and Poland^ 
 she left her studies, to repla<:e him near the' 
 throne, and to prevent his enemies having the 
 ear of the king to his disadvantage. In .all 
 'foreign affairs she was consulted as the obIj 
 
persoa at co'jit who knew the languages*. 
 Afterwards, when her husband was in Italy, 
 the Marquis de Belle-Lie^ her son, was gain- 
 ed over by the leaguers^ and resolvsd to seize 
 his father's estate. To prevent him, she as- 
 sembled soldiers, and put herself at their 
 head y which defeated the project, and main- 
 tained her vassels in obedience to their king,. 
 Henry IV. who knew how to appreciate worthy 
 honored the duchess with praisess and loaded 
 her with favors. Nobody was more happy thaa 
 herself— surrounded by a numerous family, 
 and the object of general esteem and admi- 
 ration. She survived her husband but a fev¥ 
 months, 
 
 Jane de Belleville^ wife of Oliver IIL lord of 
 
 ClissG'n, 
 
 Philip de Valois^ king of France, having 
 caused her husband to be beheaded, in 13455 
 on an unauthenticated suspicion of intelligence 
 %vith England, Jane^ burning with revenge^ 
 •t^t her son J but twelve years of age, secret. 
 
ly to London ; and, having no more to fear 
 for him, sold her jewels, armed three ves- 
 sels, and with them assailed all the French 
 that she met with« The new corsair made de- 
 scents in JSormondy^ took their castles ; and 
 the inhabitants of the villages saw frequently 
 one of the most beautiful women in Europe 
 with a sword in one hand, and a flambeau in 
 the other, enforce, with inhuman pleasure, 
 the horrors of her cruel arid misplaced re- 
 venge, 
 
 Eleanor of Aquitalny heiress of Guyenne^ PdioUy 
 Saintonge^ Auvergne^ Limosin^ Perigord and 
 Angoumois* Died 1202, at the monastry &f 
 Fontevrauli ; aged 8 1 . 
 
 Eleanor was scarcely sixteen at the death of 
 her father, and possessed of the most con- 
 summate beauty, elegance of manner, and 
 vigor of mind. He had destined her for the 
 eldest son of the king of France, afterwards 
 Louis VII. whom accordingly she married in 
 1 137. Ten years after she accompanied her 
 
240' 
 
 husband to the Holy land, where her conduct 
 gave room for the suspicions he began to en- 
 tertain ; and violent dissentions took^lace be- 
 tween them. These were fomented by her 
 uncle, the prince of Jntiocb, who had little 
 respect any more than Eleanor, for the cha- 
 racter and capacity of Lewis, He persuaded 
 her to demand the cassation of the marriage. 
 
 Eleanor entered but too readily into his 
 views ; and the king did not oppose them. 
 It is certain that her scorn towards him aug- 
 mented every day ; that she had a free carri- 
 age and a haughty soul ; and that she was: 
 perfectly the opposite to her husband ; who, 
 on his side, had all the aversion such a con- 
 trariety of mind must inspire. She said, she 
 expected to have married a king, but he waS: 
 oaly a monk. 
 
 Lewis had cut off his hair from a principle 
 of devotion, then in fashion 5 an act which 
 made him ridiculous in her eyes. Lewis told 
 her gravely, " she ought not to be witty on 
 such matters. '* She answered by fresh raile» 
 lies* In fine, he was ii§ anxious for the di- 
 
241 
 
 vorce as herself, — which took place on the 
 i8rh March, 1 152. On the 8th of May, the 
 same year, Eleanor elected, from her nume- 
 rous suitors, for her second husband, Henry ^ 
 duke of Normandy, and carried with her all 
 her large possessions, though she had two 
 daughters hy Lezvis, 
 
 The breaking this unhappy marriage, de- 
 stroyed what the pol cy of Louis le Gros 
 had contrived, and all the grandedr that the 
 prime minister had promised to France. Fk- 
 anor made choice of a husband, who, by his 
 ardour for pleasure and business, by the proud 
 dignity of his soul and his brilliant talents^ 
 appeared the most different to her former one. 
 *' Who would not have regarded this marriage 
 as a happy one," says Gaillard ; *' they were 
 almost chosen the one by the other ; an ad- 
 vantage princes rarely possess ; and, as to po- 
 litical reasons, Eleanor had given the. most 
 potent king in Europe, a third of France. 
 Five sons and three daughters seemed to pro- 
 mise them happiness ; but violent tempests 
 troubled their repose," 
 
242 
 
 This Eleanor^ whose conduct had forced 
 L^wis the Young to a separation ; Eleanor^ 
 v^ho, of all people, ought not to have been 
 jealous of a husband, had the misfortune to 
 be so to excess. She could not pardon the in- 
 tidelities of Henry^ whom she persecuted m 
 his mistresses, and by his sons. The famous 
 Rosamond held for a long time captive the 
 heart of Henry ^ who would never sacrifice 
 her to Eleanor, but who could scarcely protect 
 her from violence. Not less ambitious than 
 jealous ; or perhaps, jealous only because she 
 was ambitious ; Eleanor was indignant that 
 Henry refused her the management of the 
 provinces she had brought to him in marri- 
 age ; and pushed so far the effects of her re- 
 sentment, that she forced him to take mea- 
 sures which were the source of misery to both. 
 She fomented the revolts and discontent cf 
 her Children ; who learned, in the French 
 court, machinations to destroy the peace, and, 
 finally, the life of their father. She wished 
 herself to join them, and was discovered, in 
 the habit of a man, attempting an escape, by 
 Henry ^ wlio kept her in prison for some years*. 
 
U3 
 
 This severity, which appeared a criminal and 
 scandalous ingratitude towards a queen to 
 vvhoin he had owed his greatness in France, 
 without doubt, increased the number of the 
 ^ rebels. 
 
 After the death of his eldest son, Richard^ 
 now heir to the crown, became the source of 
 equal trouble and grief to his too indulgent 
 parent, who did not yet lose patience, but, 
 releasing Eleanor from prison, was reconciled 
 to her ; and, partly by persuasions, partly by 
 authority, a temporary peace was again esta- 
 blished with his rebellious oixspring. 
 
 Jldelaide^ the daughter of the French king, 
 was contracted to Richard ; but Henry shew- 
 ed no impatience to consumate their marriage. 
 Herfather and intended husband pretended 
 to be disp'eased at this, in order to give 
 grounds for the continental war, which de- 
 scroyed the peace of Henry^s old age : and 
 
 * Eleanor accused hun of behig himseli fond of 
 Adelaide. A report even arose, that he wish- 
 ed lo divorce the former, marry her, and, if 
 
 ''-he hdd children by her, wouid declare 
 
244 
 
 them his heirs. It is doubtful whether the 
 troubles caused by his famib , in reality, a- 
 wakened this idea in the mind of Henry, ,or 
 whether it was merely the jealous suggestions 
 of the restless Eleanor. 
 
 After the death of Hen y, when Richard 
 was retained in prison by the emperor Henry 
 VI. Eleanor^ indignant at the indifference 
 with which Europe, and the pope himself, 
 suffered the hero of the crusades to be oppress- 
 ed, wrote to fht latter, and joined the bitter- 
 ness of maternal c( mplaint to the haughti- 
 ness of reproaches : bur the pope, who had 
 more to fear from the emperor than all the 
 other sovereigns, refused to commit himself, 
 by in-erfering in behalf of her son ; and no 
 cardinal was found who would charge himself 
 with [his perilous legation : yet, at lengrh, 
 the p»-inces of Europe, ashamed of thtir 
 backwardness in favor of so great a warrior, 
 forced the emperor to relt ase him ; on condi- 
 tion of receiving a ransom, which Eleanor 
 found it very ciiflicult to raise. She had dis- 
 appioved and repressed J as much as she was 
 
245 
 
 able, the revolts and misconduct of John ; but 
 on the return of his brother, interceded for 
 him, and obtained his pardon. She is supposed 
 to have influenced the will of Richard, who 
 appointed him his successor, in exclusion of 
 Arthur, the true heir ; and doubtless preserv- 
 ed a great ascendant over him, and a great 
 part of the government during his frequent 
 absences. This made her favor the claims of 
 John, as the continuation of her power ap- 
 peared more probable under her son than her 
 grandson. Arthur had a mother not less 
 ambitious than Eleanor, not less accustomed 
 than she was to command in the name of her 
 son, and who would no less essentially reign 
 in England than in Brittany, if Arthur had 
 succeeded Richard, Eleanor possessed great 
 influence over John also, and, as much as ia 
 her lay, counteracted his indolence and folly, 
 by vigorous measures. In crossing Poitou, the 
 the young Arthur, who had lost his mother, 
 learned that his grandmother Eleanor was in. 
 the castle of AJirebeau .* he besieged and took 
 it by assault ; but she had tir.;e to take re- 
 fuge in a tower, from Vv'heuse she found 
 
246 
 
 means to inform John of her danger, who 
 was then at Rouen, This prince awoke in a 
 moment from his shimber ; he dehvered his 
 mother, and Arthur fell into his power. The 
 certain destiny of the latter is unknown ; but he 
 disappeared two or three days after the death of 
 'Eleanor^ who had never ceased to be his ene- 
 my, but who w^ould not have suffered her son 
 to be the executioner of her grand-child. 
 
 ^ane Hachette^ native of Beauva'is^ in Plcardy^ 
 remwned for her courage in the i^ih century. 
 
 The Burgundians having laid siege to this 
 town in 1472, yane, at the head of a troop 
 of women, valiently defended it ; repulsed 
 them when they assaulted the place, took 
 their colours from the hand of a soldier, who 
 was going to plant them on the walls, and 
 threvv him headlong from it. In memory of 
 this action, the privilege of walking at the 
 head of the troops, carrying these dolours, 
 was granted to her, and some other*, ensured 
 to her descendants. The portrait of this he- 
 
247 
 
 roiVxe is still shewn at Bauvais ; and, on the 
 loth of July, there was an annual processi- 
 on, in which the women walked first. 
 
 Heloise, or Elolsa, f Abbess of Paraclete^) Niecs 
 6/ Fulbert, a Canon of the church of Noire 
 Dame^ at Paris ; died 1163. 
 
 She had scarcely reached her eighteenth 
 year, when, by her beauty, learning, and 
 elegance, she attracted the notice of Peter 
 Abelard^ a young but celebrated doctor of 
 theology ; who took advantage of the parsi- 
 mony of her uncle, to introduce himself in- 
 to the house as a lodger, and to grant, as a 
 favor to him, lessons in philosophy, which 
 he wished to give his niece, as a means of en- 
 joying her society, and ingratiating himself 
 into her favor.. 
 
 Fidbert^ vain of Heloise's talents, and anxi- 
 ous for her improvement, compiled but too 
 readily with his scheme, and her innocence 
 fell a victim to the admiration and love her 
 young preceptor inspired. On discovering 
 
the truth, her uncle, almost distracted, for- 
 bade their interviews ; but they contrived to 
 meet, till it became improper for her to re- 
 main where she then was, and Ahelard took 
 her off, by stealth, to his sister's, in Britta- 
 ny, \?here she had a son. Determined to 
 save her reputation as much as was now in 
 his power, her lover then w^ent to her uncle/ 
 and after the first storm of his passion w^as 
 over, proposed to marry her \ but wished, 
 for a v/hile, it might be kept secret. At 
 length the old man acceded \ but when He- 
 hlse heard his determination, she objected 
 forcibly to il^ on the score of Abdard*5 in- 
 terest as a theologian. His celebrity, and 
 his hones of rising in the church, she affirm- 
 ed would be ruined by this match. Me saw, 
 that, regardless of her own interest, she con- 
 sidered only his ; and his affection could less 
 than ever submit to a sacrifice far less dehcate 
 than generous. The injunction of secrecy 
 was repeated, and they were married ; but, 
 anxious io wipe out the blot from his family, 
 her uncle quickly spread abroad the report, 
 Belcise^is pertinaciously contradicted it ^ which 
 
249 
 
 SO irritated Fulbert, wiio considered her huff- 
 band only as to blame, that by an act of ven- 
 geance, he separated them j but, at the 
 same time, forfeited his own benefices, and 
 became an object of general detestation. 
 
 Ahelard^ m consequence, determined to- 
 leave the world, for a convent ; but it vi^as 
 necessary for his peace that Heloise should do 
 the same, which she scrupled not to do, mak* 
 Ing her profession, in her 22d year, as a nun 
 or Argenteuil, a few days before he took up- 
 on him the order of St. Denis, where the li*- 
 centlous manners of the monks awakened his 
 censure, and, in consequence, their hatred 
 and persecution. He fled from them to other 
 •retreats 5 but the same unhappy destiny con- 
 anualiy pursued him^ 
 
 Heloise also, who had been chosen priori* 
 ess of Argenteuil^ on the dissolution of that 
 monastry for the disorders of the nuns, ap* 
 plied to Abdard for advice, who obtained the 
 assignment of the Paraclete in Champagne, a 
 
,2^0 
 
 house he had built, to her,, where she founded 
 a nuiiuery, and,, by her exemplary conduct, 
 obtained general respect and admiration. 
 They, at iirst, as; dear friends, who needed 
 each other's counsel, sometimes met y but^ 
 after a while, found, that instead or eonsol- 
 ing, these visits mads. them more unhappy,^^ 
 and discontinued them 5 when an epistle fron^ 
 Abelard to a friend, in which he recapituliated 
 the misfortunes of his life, fell into the hands 
 cf Heloisey and caused those beautiful and 
 impassioned letters, which have been preserv- 
 ed to posterity, in those v/ritten by her, she 
 complains that even when . she affected to de- 
 mote her heart to God, it was fixed upon aa> 
 earthly being, whom she could not yet t^ar 
 from it. She appears to ease her heart by re-^ 
 vealing its weakness 5 but Jbelard^ at lengthy 
 put an tnd^ to the dangerous indulgence, and^. 
 after new troubles and persecutions, d.iQ^ 1 142:^ 
 in the 63d year of his age- Heloise survived 
 bim twenty years, employing her time in- 
 study and the duties of her vocation^ She was 
 skilled in all the learned languages, in philoso* 
 pliVj mathematics^ and the study of the holy 
 
252 
 
 scriptures. Her letters are written in Latin. ^ 
 ..and she appears, both in person and mind, to 
 have been the most accomplished woman of 
 her time* 
 
 yaney daughter of Henry /, king of Navarre^ 
 married 1284, ^^ ^^^ age of 1^9 to Philip 
 the FaiVy King of Francs. Died. 1304^ 
 aged 33:. 
 
 This prince had the same good fortune as 
 lis rival, our Edward the I. in being tender- 
 ly and faithfully attached to his wife, and in 
 possessing a woman of courage, sense, and 
 virtue, ** who held,*' says Mezerjy " every 
 one chained by the eye, ear^ and heart, being 
 equally beautiful, eloquent, and generous.'^ 
 The count De Bar^ kinsman to the king of 
 England, invaded Champagne, the patrimo- 
 ny of Jane^ who went in person to defend it^ 
 gave battle to the enemy, delivered orders 
 herself in the m.idst of the combat, vanquish- 
 ed and took prisoner the count De Bar^ whom 
 ^he brought in triumph to faru% She govern* 
 
2S2 
 
 ed Navarre and Champagne, the administra- 
 tion of which the king always left to her, with 
 wisdom, as she defended them with bravery. 
 She founded, w^ith royal magnificence, the 
 college of Navare, a long time the school of 
 the French nobility, and the honor of the 
 university of Paris ^ and was the protectress 
 of the learned- 
 
 jane^ cotiniess of Montforty flourished in 134s 
 and 1342. 
 
 The count de Montfort^ male heir of Brit- 
 tany, had seized that duchy in opposition to 
 Charles of 'Blais^ the French king's nephew, 
 who had married the grand- daughter of the 
 late duke. Sensible that he could expect no^ 
 favor from Philips Montfort made a voyage to 
 England, and offered to do homage to Ed* 
 ward III. as king of France, for Brittany, 
 proposing a strict alliance for each other's 
 pretensions. 
 
 Little negociation was necessary to conclude 
 a treaty between two priucss connected by 
 
253 
 
 their Immediate interests. But the captivity 
 of the count, who was taken prisoner by the 
 enemy, which happened soon after, seemed 
 \o put an end to all the advantages naturally 
 to be expected from it. The affairs of Britta- 
 ny, however, were unexpectedly retrieved by 
 jane of Flanders, daughter of Lezvis, count 
 de Nevers, diudwih Gi deMontfart, Rous- 
 ed by the caplivity of her husband from those 
 domestic cares to which she had hitherto en- 
 tirely confined herself, she boldly undertook 
 to support the falHng fortunes of her family. 
 When she received the fatal intelligence, in- 
 stead of giving way to despair, the failing of 
 weak minds, she instantly assembled the in- 
 habitants of Rennes^ where she then resided, 
 and taking her infant son in her arms, con- 
 jured them to extend their protection to the 
 last male heir of their ancient sovereigns ; 
 expatiated on the resources to be derived from 
 England, entreating them to make one daring 
 effort against an usurper, v/ho, being allied 
 to France, would sacrifice their ancient liber- 
 ty as the price of assistance. In short, she 
 harangued them ixi a strain so bold and so pa- 
 
254 
 
 thetic, thatit spoke to their hearts, and inspi- 
 red them with a portion of her enthusiastic 
 ardour : they reselved to defend her with their 
 lives and fortunes. She then made a progress 
 through all the other fortresses of the duchy, 
 and induced them to adopt similar measures ^ 
 visited the garrisons, and provided every thing 
 necessary for sustenance and defence ; and 
 having secured the whole province from sur- 
 prise, shut herself up in Hennebonncy attend- 
 ing the English succours, and sent her son 
 over to England. Charles of Blois opened the 
 campain, expecting soon to terminate a war 
 merely conducted by a woman. Rennes soon 
 surrendered to him. He next proceeded to 
 Hennebonne^ where the brave countess command- 
 ed in person. The garrison, actuated by her 
 presence, made a vigorous defence. She her- 
 self performed prodigies of valor ; clad in 
 complete armor, she stood foremost in the 
 breach, sustained the most violent assaults, 
 flying with active vigilance from post to ram- 
 part, encouraged her troops, and displayed 
 skill that would have done honor to the most 
 experienced general. Perceiving, one day, 
 
^55 
 
 that the besiegers, occupied in a general at- 
 tack, had left their camp unguarded, she im- 
 mediately sallied forth by a postern with five 
 hundred men, set fire to their tents, baggage, 
 and magazines, and created such an alarm, 
 that the enemy desisted from the assault, to 
 cut off her communication with the town. 
 Finding herself intercepted, she galloped to- 
 wards Auray^ which she reached in safety. 
 Five days after, she returned with her httle 
 army, cut her way through part of the camp, 
 and entered the town in triumph. 
 
 At length, however, so many breaches 
 were made in the walls, by reiterated assaults, 
 that the place was deemed no longer tenable, 
 and the bishop of LeQn^ notwithstanding the 
 prayers and remonstrances of the countess, 
 had determined to capitulate ; he was actually 
 engaged in a conference respecting it with 
 Char lis of Blois^ when the countess, who had 
 ascended a lofty tower, and was casting an 
 eager look towards the sea, descried a fleet 
 at a distance. She instantly ran into the streets, 
 and excciaiiued, in a transport of joy — '^suc- 
 
^5^ 
 
 cours ! succours ! the English succours ! no 
 capitulation 1*' Nor was she mistaken : the 
 English fleet soon after entered the harbour, 
 and the troops, under the command of Sir 
 Walter Manny, sallied from the city, attacked 
 the camp of the besiegers, and reduced it to 
 ashes. " On Sir Waiter's return from this 
 successful expedition," says Froissard, " the 
 countess went forth to meet him with a joy^ 
 ful countenance and kissed him and his com- 
 panions two or three times, like a valiant la- 
 dy." Edward himself afterwards undertook 
 her defence. The count, v/ho had been re- 
 leased through a treaty between England and 
 Fhilip, still attempting to defend his rights, 
 was slain, and Edzaard undertook the cause 
 of his son. Afterwards, in 1346, Charles of 
 Blois having come with his troops to the as- 
 sistance of a fortress she had reduced, she at- 
 tacked him in his entrenchments in the night, 
 dangerously wounded, and took him prisoner* 
 
^57 
 
 Anne de V Ericlos, called Ninon de V Enclos ■; 
 > ' died 1705, aged 90, and 5 months. 
 
 ■ Tier father was a gentleman of Tourains. 
 He made her early acquainted with the best 
 authors, and taught her himself to play upon 
 the lute, which she did to perfection. Being 
 a man of pleasure, he inspired her with the 
 same taste, yet did not omit giving her lessons 
 of probity and honor. Her mother, was a re- 
 ligious woman, and used to take her to church ; 
 but she always contrived to carry some amus- 
 ing book with her, which she read during 
 service. This extraordinary woman appears 
 to have been inimitable for the charms of her 
 person and manners. Her mind was highly 
 polished ; yet with powers of reasoning to 
 make her respected by the sage ; she knew 
 how to blend refinement with gaiety, candor 
 and sensibility with acknowledged looseness of 
 principle and life. During a long life, she 
 w^as the admiration of the world around her, 
 and amidst ail the changes of fashion and 
 time maintain^ed her influence. The distin- 
 guished, whether for birth or talents^ sought 
 
 Y 
 
25S 
 
 %€r society for the gratification it aflfbrded 
 them ; the young and aspiring, in hopes oi 
 being thereby polished and instructed, 
 
 Voltaire says, that her father was a playei 
 ^jpon the lute, and that cardinal Richelieu wa^ 
 her first admirer, and settled on her a pension 
 of 2000 livres, no small sum at that time. 
 Others say, it was the young Co%/7j, duke oi 
 Chatillon^ who was a Calvanist, and witll 
 whom 'Ninon would argue for hours to detach 
 him from that faith, which most likely sha 
 thought prejudicial to his interest. He abjure 
 ed Galvanism accordingly in 1694. They hac 
 at first sworn eternal fidelity ; but finding the 
 sentiment die in her heart, Ninon for the fu- 
 ture determined that in friendship only it was 
 necessary to be faithful. 
 
 As she was not ricli, she permitted her 
 guests to bring with them their separate dish- 
 es to her suppers, which were frequented by 
 the first wits of the age. This was not an un- 
 usual custom in France. Amongst the wits 
 mho obtained this privilege was 6V. Evremond^ 
 
2:5-9 
 
 V.^ho wrote a verse under her picture, signify- 
 ing, that wise and indulgent nature had form- 
 ed her heart with the principles of Epicurus 
 and the virtue of Cato, 
 
 She was called the modern Leontium, from 
 her philosophical knowledge, which received 
 additional charms from her wit. At the age 
 of twenty-two, she had a fit of illness, which 
 was believed mortal ; and when her friends 
 lamented that she should be thus snatched 
 away in the prime of life, she exclaimed— 
 ** Ah ! I leave only dying people in the 
 world r* A gentleman who was deeply en^ 
 amoured of her, not being able to inspire any 
 return, in his indignation wrote some lines,, 
 in which he said, he without trouble renounced 
 his love, which had lent her charms she did 
 not in reality possess. Ninon immediately 
 wrote an answer in the same measure, saying., 
 that if iove lent charms, why did he not bor- 
 row some ? I 
 
 With her friend Marion de Lorrnes^ Ninon 
 thus led a licentious life \ but |he death of 
 
26o 
 
 her motbeTj who was a virtuous and pious w<^ 
 man, with her entreaties and advice, seemed to 
 change her heart all at once. She fled to a 
 convent, to expiate her errors by penitence ;j 
 but the good impression she had imbibed van- 
 isbed with her grief, and she came back to th( 
 world, which received her with new admiration^ 
 
 After the death of Richelieu and Louis XIII. 
 the first years of the regency were markec 
 by every species of dissipation ^ according to 
 the description of St. Evremond, the frienc 
 of JSinoUy '' error was no longer called evil; 
 and vice was named pleasure.^' Yet the 
 queen at one time had an intention of shut-i 
 ting her up in a convent, but her numerous 
 friends prevented it ; and the troubles which 
 soon arose in Paris induced her to leave it 
 with the Marquis de Viliarceaux, with whom 
 she retired to a seat distant from Paris, and 
 remained three years^ to the astonishment of 
 every body. At the end of the civil war they 
 returned, and Ninon found her father dying, 
 who tried to strengthen those principles he had 
 llrst instilled into her mind; saying he only 
 
26l 
 
 regretted that he had enjoyed so few pleasur^g^' 
 in proportion to what he might have had- He 
 advised her, on the contrary, not to be scro- 
 pulouii in the number but the choice of them. 
 The security in which he appeared to die was 
 a consolation to his daughter ; and she ar- 
 ranged her little patrimony with great pru- 
 dence, sinking the principal, so that she had 
 7 or 8000 livres annually. One motive fee 
 doing this was, the resolution she had made 
 never to marry. ^ 
 
 The poet S'carron was in the number of her 
 friends, and because his infirmities kept him 
 at home, and poverty made people slight him, 
 she would often stay at his house several days 
 together, by which means it was filled with 
 the polite and the learned. She now found 
 him married to Mademoiselle D^Aubigni^ v/ith 
 whom she commenced an intimate friend- 
 ship, although the latter robbed her of the 
 heart of De Villarceaux,.. 
 
 One of her lovers having left Parls^ coo* 
 lided to I^inon lo^ooa crowns, and the like. 
 
 X % 
 
£§2 
 
 snni to a penitentiary^, famous for the aust^Ti- 
 ty of his manners. On his return to reclaim 
 it^ the latter afe-cted not to understand him^ 
 saying, they received money only as gifts for 
 the poor. When the young man came to Ni- 
 non^ she cried out, ^^ I have had a misfortune 
 in your absence/^ He supposed she was go- 
 ing to announce to him the loss of the money^ 
 but she continued, " I am sorry for you, if 
 you still love me, for I no longer love you % 
 but there is the m.oney vou confided to me/' 
 They then vowed an eternal friendship. Once 
 when a gentleman was recounting his own 
 good qualities, to court her favor, she an^ 
 swered, ^' Heavens ! how many virtues you 
 make hateful to me/' 
 
 ?//<5//t'r^ was introduced to the acquaintance 
 of Isin$n^ by Chatpelle* He discovered in 
 her, as he said, the essence of all talents, and 
 the knowledge of all ages, and regarded her 
 taste for ridicule as the most perfect he had 
 ever met with. But, amidst the adoration of 
 lovers and the praise of v/its, NiriGU was not 
 every v/here triumphant^; Wishing to drav^ 
 
af! that are distinguished or great into her 
 toils y she wanted to captivate a ceiebrated; 
 preacher, and pretending to be ill, sent for 
 him as if for spiritual consolation ; but, ou 
 his arrival, he found her attired with elegance, 
 and surrounded by luxury. She practised 
 all her graces; but to the truly good man 
 they appeared contemptibis, and to her con- 
 fusion, he said : ^'* I see that your malady is in 
 your heart and mind, in person you appear in 
 perfect health y I beseech the great Physician 
 of souls to cure you 1" and left her covered 
 with shame and confusion. 
 
 When she was past sixty, a more serious 
 evil befel her, A son of hers had been edu« 
 cated under the name of the chevallier de Vil- 
 Uers^ without being made acquainted wiih 
 his i^irth. To finish his education^ his father 
 introduced him into her society, to learn those 
 inimitable graces, and that charm which she- 
 alone possessed. (JThe unhappy young man 
 became her admirer y and, when she was 
 tlius forced to reveal to him who he was, he 
 rushed from her into the garden^ and either 
 
 '^*^ --^^"i-^^^i^ ^St-<^.^^'^^^3^*^ ^<J'y^-f>*^^ ^^-^—^^H^ 
 
struck ^;yith horror at himself, or mortified 
 at the discovery of his dishonorable birth, fell 
 upon his swordj Ninon saw him expiring 
 and would have destroyed herself, had she 
 not been prevented. She had another son, 
 who died 1733, at Rochelle^ where he was 
 commissary of Marines. 
 
 After this accident, she began to change 
 her manner of life. She laid aside the fami- 
 liar name of NinoUj and purchased a new 
 house in the Ruedes Tournelles^ near the Flace 
 Royal^ where her company was sought by the 
 most respectable and biilliant of her own sex^ 
 as well as the other, amongst whom was M^- 
 dame de Sevigns^ La Fayette ^ and de Sahliere^ 
 &c. who preferred her company to the most 
 brilliant societies. Amongst the men were 
 Rochefaucauli and Si. Ei)re?nond, who said of 
 her, that " nature had begun to shew k was 
 possible not to grow old.'* Though at the 
 common age of decrepitude, she had none of 
 its ugliness — she had still all her teeth, and 
 almost all the fire of her eyes j so that in her 
 last years you plight read her history in theus* 
 
26$ 
 
 She always remained the same, an Epicu- 
 rean by principle,, though she preserved more 
 correct outward manners, and frequented 
 the church. Madame de Mainienon^ in her -e- 
 levation, did not forget her old friend, and 
 offered her, if she would become seriously 
 devout, apartments at Versailles ; but Ninon 
 was satisfied with her present fortune, and 
 said it was too late in life for her to learn 
 to dissemble. Yet, to gratify the king, who 
 wi«hed to see her, she went one day to the 
 royal chapel. 
 
 Some of her letters are in St, Evremond's 
 collection ; but others were published, which 
 v/ere not genuine. 
 
 She predicted the future fame of Voltaire^ 
 and left him a little legacy to buy books. 
 
 The yibbS de Chateauneuf made an epitaph 
 upon her, of which this is a translation : 
 
 Tiiere is nothing- iv/iich death does not conquer, 
 Nir.o):, vj/io more than an age has served love^ 
 .Nor-J SiUbmit^ to his power j 
 She was- the honor and the shame of her sex., 
 In:Oiistani in tier desireSy 
 
^66 
 
 Refined in her p/eostires, 
 
 A faithful and wise friend, 
 
 A tender,, but capricious lover • 
 
 X)slicacy and gallantry both reigned in her heart, and 
 showed the poiz^er of a combination of charms 
 of Venus ^ and the sense of an angel. 
 
 Frances D'JubignS, Marchioness de Mainfemny 
 bsrn 1635, died iji^* 
 
 Was descended from the ancient family of 
 D^ Aubigiie ; her grandfather born in the year 
 ^550, was a person of great merit as well as 
 rank, a leading man among the protestants in 
 France, and much courted to come over to the 
 opposite party. When he found he could no 
 longer be safe in his own country, he fiedfor 
 refuge to Geneva about the year 1619, where 
 he was received by the magistrates and clergy 
 with c^reat marks of honor and distinction, and 
 passed the remainder of his life among them. 
 
 His son married the daughter of Peter de 
 Qardillac^ lord of Lane^ in 1627, at Bor^ 
 deaux, not without some apprehensions, it it 
 s^d, on the part of the lady, upon her being; 
 
united, "we know not how, to a man of* a most 
 infamous character, who had actually mur- 
 dered his first wife, for such was Constaniius 
 D^Aubigne* Soon after his marriage, going to 
 Paris^ he was, for some very gross offence, 
 thrown into prison, upon which she followed 
 to solicit his pardon, but in vain ; cardinal 
 Richelieu was inflexible, and told her, that in 
 denying her request he was doing her a friend- 
 ly office. But more attached to him in conse- 
 -quence of his mii^tortunes, she at length ob- 
 tained leave to confine herself with him in 
 prison. Here she had two sons ; and, be- 
 coming pregnant a third time, petitioned that 
 he might be removed to the prison of Niort^ 
 where they should be neiirer their relations, 
 which was granced. 
 
 In this prison Madame de Mainienon was 
 born, but was taken from it by Madame Villet" 
 ie^ of Foitou^ her aunt by the father's side, 
 who, in compassin to the child, put her into 
 the care of her daughter s nurse, with whomj 
 for some time, she was bred up as a foster sis- 
 ter. JViaeiame D' Aubigue at length obtained 
 
268; 
 
 her hufband's enlargement, on condition that 
 he .should turn Roman Catholicj v;hich he 
 promised but did not chuse to do ; and fearing 
 to be again involved in trouble, in the year 
 1639 he embarked for America, with his wife 
 and family, and settled at Martinico. Madame 
 D'Aubigne in a little time returned to France, 
 to carry on some law suits for the recovery of 
 debts; but Madame Villette dissuaded her 
 from it, and she returned to Martinico, where 
 she found her husband ruined by gaming. 
 In the year 1646 he died, leaving his wife in 
 the utmost distress, who returned to France, 
 with her debts unpaid, and her daughter as a 
 pledge in the hands of one of her principal 
 creditors, who, however, soon sent her into 
 France after her mother. Here, neglected by 
 her mother, who v/as in no capacity to main- 
 tain her, she was again taken by Madame ViU 
 letie to live with her ; and the iinle Frances 
 studied by every means in her power to ren- 
 der herself agreeable to a person on whom she 
 was to depend for every thing ; made it her 
 business to insinuate herself also into the affec- 
 tions of her cousin, with whom %hx had one 
 
269 
 
 common nurse ; and expressed a great desire 
 to be instructed in the religion of her ances- 
 tors, so that in a short time she became firm- 
 ly attached to the protestant religion. In the 
 mean time, Madame de Neuillant, a relation 
 by the mother's side, and a catholic, had 
 been assiduous in informing some considera- 
 ble persons of the danger she was in, and 
 even procured an order from court to take her 
 out of the hands of Madame Villetie^ in order 
 to be instructed in the Roman catholic relisfi- 
 on. She took her to herself, and made a 
 convert of her ; but not without great diffi- 
 culty, artifice, and severity, which at lengtli 
 enforced her compliance. 
 
 In 1651, Madame de Neuillant being obli- 
 ged to go to Paris^ took her niece along with 
 her, and there she endured all the miseries 
 Df dependance. Her beauty and fine under- 
 standing being much admired, she delighted 
 humble her by representing her to her 
 Tiends as an object of pity. In the mean 
 ;ime her mother came to Paris on a law.suitj 
 md died with grief at its unhappy termination> 
 
 Z 
 
as it rained the future prospects of her chil- 
 dren. Mademohelh D^ AubignewdiZ at this time 
 timid, and spoke but little 5 but being a lit- 
 tle more introduced into company, she learnt 
 the manners of the world, and was much 
 admired. At the house of the famous Scar^ 
 ton she was a frequent visitor, and this cele- 
 brated wit began to feel a lively interest in her 
 concerns, and loved her without daring to 
 avow it. This extraordinary man was, at the 
 same time, full of gaiety, wit, and infirmi- 
 ties^. His figure was very much deformed, 
 but he had a feeling heart, a Hvely and gro- 
 tesque imagination, and much patience in his 
 ill health and poverty. He was gay in despite 
 of pain, and satirical without malice. When 
 he heard of what she had to suffer from her 
 aunt, he offered either to marry her, or to 
 pay her pension in a convent ; and Mademoi^ 
 sells D'Jubigne answered, that she preferred 
 that obligation which would empower her 
 more constantly to shew her gratitude to her 
 benefactor. Madame iS.euillant consented, and 
 they were married. She lived v/ith him many 
 years, and during all the time had ne\^er quit' 
 
271 
 
 I '^d his presence. When he was ill, she was 
 "his nurse ; when better, his companion^. 
 Bis amanuensis, cr his reader. It was 
 during this life of study or active com- 
 plaisance, that she learned, perhaps, that 
 pliability of will and humor, and that extent, 
 of knowledge, which afterwards were of suck 
 material advantage to her, 
 
 Voltaire makes no scruple to say, that this 
 part of her life was undoubtedly the happiest. 
 Her beauty, but especially her wit (for she 
 was never reckoned a perfect beauty) and un* 
 blemished reputation, distinguished her to 
 great advantage, and her conversation was 
 eagerly sought by the best company in Paris ; 
 but Scarron dying in 1660, she was reduced 
 to the same indigent condition she was in be-- 
 fore her marriage. Her friends, however,, 
 endeavoured all they could to get the pension. 
 Continued to her which had been allowed her. 
 husband. Petitions were, in consequence, fre- 
 quently presented, beginning always with, 
 '* the widow Scarron most humbly prays your. 
 majesty, &c." 5 so that the king was so weary; 
 
^72^ 1 
 
 of them^. that he was heard to say, " Mu^^^- 
 I always de pestered with the widow Scarron f^.^ 
 Moweverj he at last, at the solicitation o^ 
 Madame de Montespan, settled a much larger 
 pension on her, and said at iho, same time. 
 ^* Madam, I have made you wait a long tim^e. 
 but you have so many friends, that I was re- 
 solved to have this merit with you on iiiy own 
 account/* 
 
 As Madame de Mpnteipan wished to conceal 
 the birth of the children she had by the king^ 
 Madame Scarron was thought a proper person 
 IQ be entrusted with their education. She was- 
 therefore^ created governess by him, and led ?* 
 solitary and laborious life in watching with 
 motherly solicitude, not only over the mindsj 
 but the health of the cliildren committed to 
 lier care. What made it more unpleasant was, 
 ihat during the earlier part of the iimQ^ Lewis. 
 himself disliked her, and fancied her a female 
 pedant and a wit ; but when she was obliged to- 
 write, her letters charmed him, and he could 
 not have thought, he said, a belle, esprit could 
 have writtea so well 
 
Eewh was one day afterwards playing with' 
 the duke of Malne^ cind, pleased with some 
 shrewd answer of the boy, said, " You are 
 very wise."—*^- Flow should T be otherwise, 
 said he, ''when I am under the tuition of 
 wisdom herself ?" This answer pleased him ~ 
 so much, that he sent to her a hundred thou»^ 
 sand francs. 
 
 Yet her situation became daily more insup-- 
 portable : she frequently quarrelled with Ma->- 
 dame de Montespan^ who complained of her to 
 the king. ''Why do 3/ou not dismiss her^ 
 then V said he, " are you not the mistress V^ 
 She thought it, however, more easy to ap- 
 pease than to replace, and informed her of 
 what he had said. Hurt and indignant at be- 
 ing considered so iightlyj she declared she 
 would resign her situation. Madame de Monies-^ 
 pan was alarmed ; she sought to appease her 
 but only at the wish of the king, to whom 
 for the future, she was alone to be accountable 
 she consented to remain. In the conversa- 
 tions which ensued, she began, at the age of 
 fcrty- eight, iq win the affecti^jns of L^wk^ 
 
Uioiigh still handsome, it was to her sense- 
 and mental accomplishments that this extra- 
 ordinary woman was chiejfly, if not wholly, 
 mdcbted-for the conquest of a monarch ever 
 volatile and inconstant^ till fixed by her. 
 In her conversation, in which sallies of wir 
 and precepts of virtue were judiciously blend- 
 ed, he discovered charms before unknown. 
 During an intercourse of several years, and 
 for the last four, of the most intimate nature,, 
 she completely won his affections. The more- 
 she. was. known, the more she was valued ;. 
 and at length, partly from esteem, and part- 
 ly from religious scruples, Lezvis, by the ad- 
 vice of his confessor, the Jesuit L^ Chaise^ 
 lawfully married her, Jan. 1680, when she 
 was in her fifty-second year, and he m 
 Ills, forty-eighth. No contract was signed ^ 
 no settlement made ; the nuptial benediction. 
 was bestowed by Harlai de. Chamvulon^ archbi- 
 shop of Fans. La Chaise w^as present at the. 
 ceremony ;. Monichevreull^ and Bontemps^ first 
 valet-de-ehambre to the king, attended as 
 Vvitnesies. Madame de Maintenon, for she 
 never assumed' any other title, proved- herself 
 
worthy of the high station by her disinieresr- 
 edness, virtue, and moderation. Slie exert- 
 ed her credit with extreme circum^pectionv 
 never interfered in political intrigues, and be- 
 trayed a greater desire to render the king hap- 
 py than to govern the state. Her aggrandize- 
 ment by no means tended to increase her feli- 
 city : she led a retired life, excluded from 
 all social intercourse with her friends y and' 
 its invariable assiduity not only produced las- 
 situde, but excited disgusr. It is to be la- 
 mented, that her fear of rendering L^w/i un- 
 easy by contradiction prevented her from do- 
 ing all the good she might have done, and ali^ 
 she wished to do ; yet, by an unwise exertion^ 
 of power, she engaged him to acknowledge, 
 the son of James IL as king of England, in. 
 opposition to the the treaty oiRyswick ; and^. 
 after the dreadful defeat of the French, af 
 Blenheim^ was the only one who had sufficient 
 courage to inform the king he wa& no longer 
 invincible. 
 
 He bought for her the lands of MaintenG?^. 
 11116793 vv^hich was the only estate she sve? 
 
OrJO'^ 
 
 mdj though in the height of favor, which af- 
 forded her the means of making purchases to 
 w hat value she pleased. Here she had a mao-- 
 Fiificent castle, m a delightfiil country, not 
 more than fourteen leagues distant from Paris^ 
 and ten from Versailles. The king seeing her 
 wonderfully pleased with her estate, called 
 her publicly Af/?t7Y?;;z^ de Maintenon^ and this 
 change of name stood her in much greater 
 stead than she could have imagined, yet her 
 elevation was to her only a retreat. Shut up 
 in her apartment, which was on the same fioor 
 Vvith the king^Sj. she confined herself to the 
 society of two or three ladies as retired as her- 
 self, and even those she saw but seldom. 
 Le'wis went there every day after dinner, 
 before and after supper, and staid till mid- 
 Bight. Here he did business with his minis- 
 terG, while she employed herself in reading 
 or needle-work, never shewing any forward- 
 ness to talk of state alFairSs and carefully a- 
 voiding all appearance of cabal and intrigue^ 
 She studied more to please him who governed 
 than to govern, and preserved her credit by 
 employing it with the UtlUQSt circUiPspectiQ.7* 
 
2*7 7 
 
 Her brother, count U Auhigne^ a iieuten«»- 
 ant'general of long standing, would have: 
 \^tQi\ made a marshal of France, but his in- 
 dolent temper made the king wisely provide 
 for him in a common way, as he was unfit for 
 that high office. His daughter married the 
 duke of Noailles, Two other nieces of Ma^ 
 dame deMainienon vi^rt married, the one to 
 the marauis de Caylus, the other to the mar». 
 quis de Villette, A rnoderate pension, howe-. 
 ver, which Lewis XIV. gave to Madame d^ 
 Caylus. was almost all her fortune : th& 
 others had nothing but expectation,. 
 
 The marriage was, however, kept very se- 
 cret, and iho. only outward mark of her ele- 
 vation was^ that in mass she sat in one of the 
 two little galleries or gilded domes which ap* 
 peared designed for the king and queen. Be-. 
 sides this, she had not any exterior appear-. 
 ance of grandeur. The piety and devotioa 
 with which she had inspired the king became 
 gradually a sincere and settled disposition of 
 mind, . which age and affiiction confirmed.. 
 She had already, with him and the whole 
 
'278" 
 
 court, acquired the merit of a foundress, by 
 assembling at Noissy a great number of wo* 
 men of quality j and the king had already 
 destined the revenues of the abbey of St, Denis 
 for the maintenance of this rising community. 
 St. Cyr was built at the end of the park at 
 VirmiUes^ in 1686. She then gave the form 
 to this new establishment, which was for the 
 education of three hundred young girls, of 
 noble families, till they attained the age of 
 tv»7enty ; and, together with Godet DesmareiSy 
 bishop of Chartres, made the rules, and was 
 herself superior of the convent. Thither she 
 often went to pass away some hours ; and if 
 \7e say, that melancholy determined her to 
 this employment, it is what she herself has 
 said. ^' Why cannot 1,'^ says she, in a let- 
 ter to "Madame de la Maisonfort^ '^ why can- 
 not I give you my experience ? Why cannot 
 I make you sensible of that uneasiness which 
 wears out the great, and of the difficulties 
 they labor under to employ their time ? Do 
 not you see that I am dying with melancholy, 
 in a height of fortune v^'hich once my imagi- 
 nation could scarce have conceived ? I have. 
 
^79 
 
 been young and beautiful, have bad a relish 
 for pleasures, and have been the universal ob- 
 ject of love. In my advanced age I have 
 spent my time in intellectual amusements. I 
 have at last risen to favor ; but I protest to 
 you, my dear girl, that every one of these 
 conditions leaves in the mind a dismal vacu- 
 ity.'^ If any thing could shew the vanity of 
 ambition, it would certainly be this letter- 
 Madame de Mainienon could have no other 
 uneasiness than the uniformity and constant 
 restraint of her manner of living ; and this 
 m.ade her say once to her brother, '^ I can hold 
 it no longer ; I wish I were dead.'^ The way 
 to please Lewis was never to be out of spirits 
 or health, but the force she put upon herself 
 for this purpose rendered her life a burthen. 
 He was the politest of men, and always pre* 
 served for her the greatest respect; yet, as 
 she herself complained, to ^^ amuse a man 
 who never can be amused^' was the most per* 
 feet slavery. 
 
 They latterly lived a retired life at the con- 
 vent of ,6y. Cyry and the court grew every day 
 
iB© 
 
 '^cre serious. Here it was she requestet 
 Racine^ who had renounced the theatre for 
 Jansenism and the court, to compose a trage- 
 dy, and to take the subject of it from the 
 scriptures. He accordingly wrote Esther^ 
 which having been first represented at the 
 house of St, Cyr^ was several times afterwards 
 acted at Versailles^ before the king, in the win- 
 ter of the year 1689. At the death of Lezvis-^ 
 which happened in 1715, Madcme de Main' 
 tenon retired wholly to the convent of St. Cyr^ 
 where she spent the remainder of her days in. 
 acts of devotion ; and what is very surprising, 
 Lewis XIV. made no certain provision for her, 
 but only recommetided her to the duke of 
 Orleans, She would accept of no more thaa 
 a pension of 80,000 livres, which was punctu^ 
 ally paid till her death. 
 
 She struggled for a long time to be publick- 
 ly acknowledged queen, which Lewis v;?i% in- 
 clined to grantj but in the end persuaded 
 from doing by his counsellors. Her letters 
 -have been printed in nine volumes izmo:, 
 
48l 
 
 Margaret^ of Aitjou, daughter of Regnter, flfu- 
 lar king of Sicily^ Naples and Jerusale?n^ de- 
 scended from a count of Anjou^ who had left 
 those magmjlcent titles to his posterity^ without 
 any real power or possessions. 
 
 She was however the most accomplished 
 princess of that age, both in body and mind ; 
 and the rival parties of the cardinal of Win- 
 chester and iliQd^M^Q 01 Gloucester^ being then- 
 ambitious of choosing a wife for the young 
 Henry 11. king of England, that of the for- 
 mer prevailed, and Margaret was elected, who 
 seemed to possess those qualities, which wouid 
 enable her to acquire an ascendant over Henry ^ 
 and to supply, all his defects and weaknesses. 
 In 1443, the treaty of marriage was ratified 
 in England ; and Margaret^ on her arrival, 
 fell immediately into close connections with 
 the cardinal and his party ; who, fortified byher 
 powerful patronage, resolved on the final ru- 
 in of the duke of Gloucester^ and that good 
 prince at length fell a sacrifice to court in- 
 trigues, after being accused of treason and 
 thrown into prison, where he was soon after 
 
 A a 
 
282 
 
 found dead in liis bed ; and, although his bo- 
 dy bore no marks of outward violence, no 
 one doubted but he had fallen a victim to the 
 vengeance of his enemies- 
 
 Henry being a mere cypher in the govern- J 
 nient, the administration was in the hands of 
 the queen and the earl of Suffolk^ who had, 
 contracted universal odium at the time of the 
 duke of Torkh aspiring to the crown. Mar^ 
 garet was considered as a French vv^oman, and 
 a latent enemy to xkit kingdom, who had be- 
 trayed the interests of England, in favor ol 
 her family and country, Spffolk w^as consider- 
 ed her accomplice ; and the downfall of the 
 ^uke of Gloucester^ who was universally be- 
 loved, in which they were both known to have 
 been concerned, rendered them- yet more ob- 
 noxious. 
 
 The partizans of tlie Duke of York, taldng 
 advantage of this, impeached the earl of Suf- 
 folk of various crimes ; and the king, in order 
 to save, his minister, bunished him the kingdom 
 for five years. But his enemies, sensible that 
 he enjoyed the queen's confidtace, and would 
 
283 
 
 be recalled the first opportunity, got hini Inter- 
 cepted and murdered on his passage. 
 
 The duke of Somerset succeeded to Suffolk's 
 power in the administraton, and credit with the 
 queen ; but he having been unfortunate in the 
 French war, was equally the object of dislike, 
 and the queen and council, unable to protect 
 him, were obliged to give him up : he was 
 also sent to the tower j and, as Henry had 
 fallen into a distemper which increased his na- 
 tural imbecility, the duke of York was created 
 Pjotector during pleasure. 
 
 But Henry recovering, was advised by his 
 friends to reverse all this; in consequence, the 
 duke of York levied an army, fought a battle 
 near St. Albans, and took the king prisoner ; 
 but treated him with lenity, and was again 
 appointed protector. But this did not last 
 long. The civil war broke out, with various, 
 success, till it w^as thus accommodated, at last 
 by the parliament ; that Henry, who was now? 
 again a prisoner/should retain the dignity of a 
 king, during life, and that the duke should 
 succeed him, to the prejudice of his infant son 
 tbsnin Scotland with his mother, who after the 
 
284 
 
 late battle at Northampton had fled with him to 
 Durham, and from thence to Scotland : but 
 
 soon returning, she applied to the Northern 
 barons, and employed every argument to ob- 
 tahi their assistance. Mer affability, insinu- 
 ?/iion, and address, talents in which she excel- 
 leoj aided by caresses 2Ajd promises, wrought 
 a powerful effect on all who approached her. 
 The admiraiioa of her great qualities was suc- 
 ceeded by compdLsmm towards her helpless sit- 
 iiation. The nobility of that quarter entered 
 rrzixmlj Into her cause; and she soon found 
 lierself at the head of asi army of twenty thou- 
 sand meOj collected with a celerity which was 
 neither e.'spected by her friends^ nor appiehea- 
 ded by her enemies, , 
 
 In the mean. txEne,, the di>,keof York hasten- 
 ed northward with a body of five thousand 
 men to suppress, as he imagined, the beginmng 
 of insurrection. He met the queen near 
 Wakefield ; and though he found himself so 
 much outnumbered, his pride would not per- 
 mit him to flee before a woman. He gave 
 battle, was killed in the action y and his body 
 being found among the slain, his head was 
 
285 
 
 cut off by Margaret's orders, and fixed on 
 the gates of T^ork^ with a paper crown upon 
 it, in derision of his pretended title. 
 
 Immediately after this important victory, 
 Margaret marched towards London, where 
 the earl of Warwick was left with the com- 
 mand of the Torkisis, On the approach of 
 the Lancastrians^ that nobleman led out his 
 army, reinforced by a strong body of Loti' 
 doners^ and gave battle to the queen at St. Al^ 
 bans^ 1 46 1. Margaret ^2,% again victorious ; 
 she had the pleasure of seeing the formidable 
 Warwick flee before her, and of rescuing the 
 king her husband from captivity. 
 
 But her triumph, though glorious, was of 
 short duration, and not altogether complete^ 
 Warwick was still in possession of London^ on 
 which she made an unsuccessful ^ttempt ; and 
 Edward^ eldest son of the late duke of Tork^ 
 having gained an advantage over the Lancas^^ 
 irians at Mortimer's Crcssy near Hereford^ ad. 
 vanced upon her from the other side, and 
 was soon in a condition to give her battle 
 
 A 3 s 
 
2S6 
 
 with superior forces. She was sensible of her 
 danger in such a situation, and retreated with 
 her army to the north ; while Edward entered 
 the capital amidst the acclamations of the ci- 
 tizens, where he was soon proclaimed king^ 
 under the title of Edward IV. 
 
 Young Edward, now in his twentieth year, 
 was of a temper well fitted to make his way in 
 these times of war and havock. He was not 
 only bold, active, and enterprising, but his- 
 hardness of heart rendered him impregnable 
 to all those movements of compassion, which 
 might relax his vigor in the prosecution of the 
 most bloody designs against his enemies* 
 Hence the scaffold, as well as the field, during 
 his reign, incessantly smoaked with the noblest 
 blood in England. The animosity betweea 
 the two families was become implacable, and 
 the nation, divided in its affections, took dif- 
 ferent party symbols. The adherents of the 
 house of Lancaster chooiQy as their mark of 
 distinction, the red rose ; those of Tork as- 
 sumed the white : and these civil wars "^Qro, 
 thus knovv n all over Europe by the name of the 
 *^ Quarrel between the "Iwo Roses J\ 
 
28/ 
 
 Q^ieen Margaret., as I have observed, had 
 retired to the north. There great multitudes 
 flocked to her standard \ and she was able, m 
 a few weeks, to assemble an army of sixty 
 thousand men. Edward and the earl of War^ 
 wick hastened with forty thousand to check 
 her progress. The two armies met at Towton ; 
 and, after an obst nate conflict^ the battle 
 terminated in a total victory on the side of the 
 TorkistS' Edward would give no quarter, and 
 the routed army was pursued as far as Tadcas* 
 ier, with great bloodshed and confusion. 
 Above thirty- six thousand men are said to have 
 fallen in the battle and pursuit* Henry and 
 Margaret had remained at Tork during the 
 action ; but learning the defeat of their army^ 
 fled with great precipitation into Scotland* 
 The queen of England however found there s 
 people little less divided by fadion than those 
 she had left. Their king being a minor, and 
 the regency disputed by two opposite parties. 
 They agreed however to assist them, on her of=- 
 fering to deliver up to them the important for- 
 tress of Berwick, and to contract her son to a 
 sister of their king. The dauntless Margaret 
 
28! 
 
 stimulated by natural ambition, with her nor- 
 thern auxiliaries, and the succors from France, 
 ventured once more to take the field, and make 
 an inroad into England. But she was able to 
 penetrate no farther than Hexham. There 
 she was attacked by lord Montacute, brother 
 to the earl of Warwick, and warden of the 
 marches, who totally routed her motley ar- 
 my, and all who w^ere spared in the field suf- 
 fered on the scalTold. 
 
 The fate of this unfortunate heroine, after 
 this overthrow, was equally singular and af- 
 fecting. She fled v/ith her son into a forest^ 
 where she endeavoured to conceal herself y 
 but was beset during the darkness of the 
 night by robbers, who despoiled her of her 
 jewels, and treated her with the utmost indig- 
 nity, ^he made her escape, however, while 
 they were quarreling about the booty ; and 
 v/andered some time with her son in the most 
 unfrequented thickets, spent with hunger and 
 fatigue, and ready to sink beneath the load of 
 terror and alEiction. In this wretched condi* 
 tioa she v/as met by a robber, with his sword 
 
2Pg 
 
 naked in his hand ; and seeing no means of 
 escape, suddenly embraced the bold resolu- 
 tion of trusting entirely to his faith and gene- 
 rosity. '* Approach my friend !" — cried she^ 
 presenting to him the young prince, *' to you 
 I commit the care of your king's son." Struck 
 with the singularity of the event, and charm- 
 ed v/ith the confidence reposed in him. the 
 robber became her protector. By his favor 
 she dm^elt concealed la the forest, till she 
 fouad STi opportunity to make her escape into 
 Flaiaders, whence she passed to her father la 
 France, and lived several years in privacy and 
 retirement. Henry was less fortenate. He la/ 
 concealed twelve months in Lancashire ; but 
 was at last detected, delivered up to Md'svard^ 
 and throwa into the Tower, 1465. 
 
 In 1470, however, Warwick had been sent 
 to France to negociate a marriage between 
 Edward IV. and Bona of Savoy ; but Edward 
 had, in his absence, given his people an En- 
 glish queen. Thij the earl resented ; and 
 though Edward knew he had been ill used, 
 he was too proud to make an appology 5 and 
 
290 
 
 Warwick in revenge, drew over the duke of 
 Clarence to his party, by marrying him to his 
 eldest daughter, coheiress of his immense for- 
 tune, besides many other discontented lords. 
 Finding his own name insufficient, and being 
 chased to France, JVarwick entered into a 
 league with queen Margaret, formerly his in- 
 veterate enemy. 
 
 On his return to England, he was joined 
 by the whole of the Lancastrians. Both par- 
 ties prepared for a general decision by arms ' 
 and a decisive action was every moment ex* 
 pected, when Edward, finding himself be- 
 trayed by the marquis of Montague, and sus- 
 picious of his other commanders, suddenly 
 abandoned his army and fled to Holland, 
 He?iry the VI. was taken from his confinement 
 in the Tower, and placed once more upon the 
 English throne ; and a parliament, called un- 
 der the influence of Warwick, declared Ed^ 
 ward the IV. an usurper. 
 
 But so fugitive a thing is public favor, that 
 Warwick was no sooner at the helm of govern- 
 ment than his popularity began to decline. 
 
291 
 
 though he does not appear to have done any 
 thing to deserve it. The young king was em- 
 boldened to return ; and though he brought 
 ,\i'ith him but two thousand men, he soon 
 found himself in a condition to obey the call. 
 The city of London opened its gates to Ed- 
 ward ; who thus became at once master of his 
 capital and of the person of his rival Henry, 
 doomed to be the perpetual sport of fortune. 
 The arrival of Margaret, whose presence 
 would have been of infinite service to her 
 party, was every day expected. In the mean 
 time the duke of Clarence deserted to the king, 
 and the two parties came to a general engage- 
 ment. The battle v/as fought with great ob- 
 stinacy, and uncommon valor on both sides ; 
 but an accident threw at last the ballance en 
 that of the Torkists. Edivard^s cognisance 
 was a sun j IVarwick^s a star with rays 5 and 
 the mistiness of the morning rendering it dif- 
 ficult to distinguish them, a body of Lancas* 
 irians was attacked by their friends and driven 
 oiF the field* Warwick did all that experience, 
 conduct, or valor, could suggest to retrieve 
 th^mistnkej but in vain. He had engaged 
 
292 
 
 on foot that day, contrary to his usual prac- 
 tice, in order to shew his troops, that he was 
 resolved to share every danger with them ; 
 and now, sensible that all v/as lost, unless a 
 reverse of fortune could be wrought by some 
 extraordinary effort, he rushed into the thick- 
 est of the engagement, and fell, covered with 
 a multitude of wounds. His brother under- 
 went the same fate ; and as Edward had issu- 
 ed orders to give no qjaarter, a great and un- 
 distinguishing slaughter was made in the 
 pursuit. 
 
 Queen Margaret^ and her son prince Ed- 
 ward^ now about eighteen years of age, land- 
 ed from Franca^ the same day on which that 
 decisive battle was fought. She had hitherto 
 sustained the shocks of fortune with surpri- 
 sing fortitude j but when she received intelii- 
 gence of her husband's captivity, and of the 
 defeat and death of the earl of i/Yarwick^ her 
 courage failed her, and she took sanctuary in 
 the abbey of Beaulieu, in Hcmpthire. 
 
 ■r 
 
 Encouraged, however, by the appearance 
 of Indor^ earl oi Pembrt^h^ and several Other 
 
floblemen, who exhorted her still to hope foif 
 success, she resutned het former spirit, and 
 determined to assert to the last her so : s claim 
 to the crown of England. Puttin,:, herself 
 once more at the head of the arm/ which in- 
 creased in every day's march, sifi; cuivanced 
 through the counties of Dev>n, Sornarset and 
 Gloucester. But the ardent' and expeditious 
 Edward overtook her at Tewkesbury, on the 
 banks of the Severn, where the Lancastrians 
 were totally routed and dispersed. Margaret 
 and her son were taken prisoners, and brought 
 to the king, who asked the prince, in an impe^ 
 rious tone. How he dared to invade his domi- 
 nions ? " I came hither/' replied the undaunt- 
 ed youth, more mindful of his high birth than 
 his present fortune, '"- to revenge my father's 
 wrongs, and rescue my just inheritance out of 
 your hands." Incensed at his freedom, in- 
 >stead of admiring the boldness of his spirit, the 
 ungenerous Edward barbarously struck him on 
 the face with his gauntlet ; and the dukes of 
 Clarence and Gloucester, Lord Hastings, and 
 Sir Thomas Gray, taking this blow as a signal 
 
 for farther violence, hurried him aside, and in- 
 « B b 
 
294 
 
 stantly dispatched him with their daggers^ 
 Margaret was thrown into the tower, where 
 her husband had just expired : whether by a 
 natural or violent death is uncertain, though 
 it is generally believed the duke of Gloucester 
 killed him wath his own hands. 
 
 The hopes of the house of Lancaster were 
 thus extinguished by the death of every legiti- 
 mate priace of that family. Edward, who 
 had no longer any enemy that could give him 
 anxiety or alarm, was encouraged once more 
 to indulge himself in pleasure and amusement 5 
 but he was not deaf to the calls of ambition, 
 and planned an invasion of France. Repass- 
 ed over in 1475, ^^ Calais, with a formidable 
 army ; but LeVi'is proposed an accommoda- 
 tion by no means honorable to France, except 
 ill one article, wihich v/as a stipulation for the 
 life of Margaret, who was still detained in cus- 
 tody by Edward. Lewis paid fifty thousand 
 crowns for her ransom ; and this princess, 
 who, in active scenes of life, had experienced 
 so remarkably the vicisitudes of fortune, pass- 
 ed the remainder of her days in privacy. I'he 
 
^95 - 
 
 situations into which she was thrown in a man- 
 ner unsexed her; as she had the duties and hard- 
 ships of a man to encounter, she partook of the 
 same character, and was as much tainted with 
 ferocity, as endowed with the courage of the 
 age in which she lived ; though the pictures 
 which, remain of her shew a countenance at 
 
 once mild and dignified. 
 
 * 
 
 She died 1481, as is supposed of grief for 
 the misfortunes of a husband and son she had 
 so faithfully served, having in person fought, 
 twelve battles. 
 
 Catherine de Parihenai^ daughter and heiress cf 
 "John de Parthenal^ Seigneur de Soiibise, 
 
 ♦ She had a turn for poetry ; as appears from' 
 some poems published in 1572, when she was 
 not above eighteen years of age. She is gen- 
 erally thought to be the author of the appolo- 
 gy for Henry IV. which was printed as hers 
 in the new edition cf her journal of Henry IIL 
 Daubigny assures us, that the king shewed i: 
 
296 
 
 him as a piece written in her stile, Bayle de- 
 clares, that whoever*wrote it, is a person of 
 wit and genius. It is in reality a very sharp 
 satire. Catherine wrote also tragedies and 
 comedies, which have not been printed y and 
 the tragedy of Holofernes, which was repre- 
 sented on the theatre at Rocheile, in 1754. 
 
 When only fourteen years of age, she 
 married Charles de Quellencej baron dePont, 
 in Britainy, who, upon the marriage, took, 
 the nam^ of Soubise ; under which name he 
 is mentioned with honor in the second and 
 third civil wars in France, and fell in- the ge- 
 neral massacre of St, Bartholomew, 1571? 
 after fighting valiantly for his life. 
 
 His wife wrote several elegies, deploring 
 her loss ; to which she added some on the 
 death of the admiral, and other illusfrious per- 
 sonageSo 
 
 She married secondly, 1573, Renatus, vis- 
 count Rohan, the second of that name, who 
 dying 1586, though she was not yet above 
 thirty two years of age, she resolved to spend 
 
 Bb a 
 
297 
 
 the remainder of her life In the education oF 
 her children. 
 
 Her sldest son was the famous duke de Ro- 
 han, who asserted the protestant cause with 
 so much vigor, during the civil wars in the 
 reign of Lewis XIII. Her second the duke 
 of Soubise. She had also three daughters^ 
 Henrietta, who died in 1629 ; Catherine, who 
 married a duke of Deux Fonts in 1605, 
 and whose beauty having attracted the eyes of 
 Henry IV. when he declared his passion, she 
 immediately replied, *' 1 am too poor to be 
 your wife, and too nobly born to be your 
 mistress.'^ 
 
 Her third daughter was Anne, who sur- 
 vived all her brothers and sisters, and inherit- 
 ed both her genius and magnanimous spirit. 
 3he lived unmarried with her mother, and 
 with her bore all the calamities of the siege of 
 Rochelle. The daughter's resolution was re- 
 markable, but the mother's more, as she was 
 then in her 75th year. They were reduced to 
 the necessity of living for three months upon 
 horse-fleshj and four ounces of bread a day. 
 
2gB 
 
 Yet notwithstanding this dismal situation, she 
 wrote to her son, to go on as he had begun, 
 and not to let the consideration of the extre- 
 mity to which she was reduced prevail upon 
 him to make him act any thing to the preju- 
 dice of his party, how great soever her suf- 
 ferings might be. In short, she and her 
 daughter refused to be included in the articles I 
 of capitulation, and remained prisoners of war* 
 They were conveyed to the castle of Niortg 
 16285 and she died there 1631, aged 77. 
 
 Slbillaf wife of Robert^ duke of Normandy^ eld" 
 est son of William the conqueror ; a prince of 
 a noble and generous spirit^ ivbo was tenderly 
 beloved by his friends* 
 
 Having been wounded by a poisoned arrow, 
 the physicians declared nothing could save 
 him, but the venom's being sucked from his 
 wound by some one, whose life must fall a 
 sacrifice. Robert disdained to save his own 
 by hazarding that of another \ but Sibilla did 
 this in his sleep, and died to save herhusband- 
 
S99 
 
 • Ann Musnkr. 
 
 " I do not knov/," says St. Foix, " a more 
 flattering or finer title to nobility, than that 
 which the descendants of Anne Musnier pro- 
 duced at the reformation. Three men, whilst 
 they were waiting in an alley of the count of 
 Champaign's garden, for that prince's rising, 
 consulted together upon a plot they had laid 
 to assassinate him, Anne Musnier, who was 
 concealed behind a tree, overheard part of 
 their conversation : seeing them withdraw, 
 shocked at the thoughts of a design" against 
 her prince's life, and fearful perhaps that she 
 should not have time enough to acquaint him 
 -of it^ she called out from the other end of the 
 walk, and beckoned to them as if she wanted 
 to speak with them. One of them advancing 
 towards her, she stabbed him with a large 
 kitchen knife, and he fell at her {ttf, she 
 then defended herself against the other two, 
 and received several wounds. 
 
 By this time the people came to her assist* 
 ance j and in searching these villains, there 
 
3CO 
 
 were found upon them presumptive proofs of 
 a conspiracy. They confessed the whole, 
 when put to the torture, and were quartered, 
 Anne Musnier, Gerard de Langres her hus- 
 band, and their descendants, were ennobled. 
 
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