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THE LIFE AND LETTERS 
 
 OF 
 
 MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE 
 
VERSAILLES EDlTieN 
 
 Limited to Eight Hundred Numbered Sets, of which 
 this is 
 
 No 
 
'-^(^ (jy^yVC-d' 
 
THE LIFE AND LETTERS 
 
 OF 
 
 MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE 
 
 FOLLOWED BY 
 
 THE j6URNAL OF THE TEMPLE, BY CLERY, 
 
 AND 
 
 THE NARRATIVE OF MARIE THERESE DE 
 FRANCE, DUCHESSE DANGOULEME. 
 
 TRANSLATED BY 
 
 KATHARINE PRESCOTT WORMELEY. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED WITH PORTRAITS FROM THE ORIGINAL. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 HARDY, PRATT & COMPANY. 
 
 1902 
 
Cf'NGKESS, 
 Two Coi'itB Heceivb» 
 
 iAR. 15 1902 
 
 COFVhIBMT EHTBY 
 COPY 3. 
 
 . A /o" 
 
 Copyright 1901, 
 By Hardy, Pratt & Company. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 SEntijetsxtg ^Sress 
 John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U. S. A. 
 
•^^ 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 part ifirsc* 
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS OF MADAME ELISABETH DE 
 FRANCE. 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 Page 
 Introductory. — Sketch of the Life of Madame Elisabeth from her 
 
 Childhood until August 10, 1792 1 
 
 CHAPTER IL 
 
 Letters of Madame Elisabeth to the Marquise de Bombelles, the Mar- 
 quise de Raigecourt, the Abbe de Lubersac, and others 33 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Madame ]&lisabeth's Life in the Tower of the Temple recorded only by 
 her Niece, Marie-Therese de France, and by Clery, Louis XVI.'s 
 Valet. — Her Removal to the Conciergerie. — Her Examination, 
 Condemnation, and Death 90 
 
 part Second* 
 
 JOURNAL OF THE TOWER OF THE TEMPLE, 
 BY CLERY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The 10th of August, 1792. Cle'ry permitted to serve the King and his 
 Family. — Life and Treatment of the Royal Family in the Tower 
 of the Temple ... , HI 
 
VI CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Page 
 
 Continuation of their Life and Treatment. — The King separated from 
 
 his Family, and summoned for Trial before the Convention . . . 138 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The King's Trial. — His Will. — The Decree of the Convention con- 
 demning the King to Death. — Last Meeting with his Family. — 
 Leaves the Temple for his Execution 175 
 
 part tU^n* 
 
 NARRATIVE OF MARIE-THERESE DE FRANCE, 
 DUCHESSE D'ANGOULfiME. 
 
 First Uprising of the Populace on the 5th and 6th of October, 1789. — 
 
 Removal of my Family to the Capital 210 
 
 Flight of my Father ; his Stoppage at Varennes ; his Return to Paris 21 6 
 
 Assault on the Tuileries by the Populace, June 20, 1792 230 
 
 Massacre at the Tuileries ; Dethronement of my Father. — The Days 
 
 from the 10th to the 13th of August, 1792 236 
 
 Imprisonment of my Family in the Tower of the Temple, August 13, 
 1792, followed by the Trial and Martyrdom of my Father, January 
 21, 1793 243 
 
 Life in the Tower of the Temple from the Death of Louis XVI. to that 
 
 of the Queen, October 16, 1793 259 
 
 Life in the Temple till the Martyrdom of Madame Elisabeth and the 
 
 Death of the Dauphin, Louis XVII., June 9, 1795 278 
 
 Brief sketch of the Life of Marie-The'rese until her death, October 18, 
 
 1851 289 
 
 THE DUCHESSE D'ANGOULEME. 
 Homage to the Duchesse d'Angouleme, by C.-A. Sainte-Beuve . . . 295 
 
CONTENTS. VU 
 
 APPENDIXES. 
 
 Page 
 I. Montreuil 311 
 
 II. First Examination of Madame Elisabeth by Fouquier-Tinville, 
 
 May 9, 1794 313 
 
 III. Extract from the Deliberations of the Commissioners of the 
 
 Commune on the Service of the Temple 317 
 
 IV. Signs agreed upon to make known to the Princesses the Progress 
 
 of the various Armies, etc.; and sundry Communications from 
 Madame Elisabeth to M. Turgy 318 
 
 V. Louis XVI.'s Seal and Eing 323 
 
 INDEX 325 
 
LIST OF 
 PHOTOGRAVURE ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Madame Elisabeth de France Frontispiece 
 
 By Mme. Vigee Le Brun ; Portraits Nationaux. 
 
 Page 
 Madame Elisabeth at Montreuil 20 
 
 By Richard; Versailles. 
 
 Louis XVI. 80 
 
 By Duplessis; Versailles. 
 
 The Peincesse de Lamballe 122 
 
 By Mme. Vigde Le Brun; Maltres du XIX Si^cle. 
 
 The Dauphin and Madame Rotalb 182 
 
 By Mme. Vig^e Le Brun; Versailles. 
 
 Madame Royale, Duchesse d'Angoulemb . 210 
 
 ByDanloux; Vienna. 
 
 Queen Marie-Antoinette leaving the Tribunal after her 
 
 Condemnation to Death 278 
 
 Paul Delaroche. 
 
 Typogravures. 
 
 Fac-simile of a Fragment of Letter of Madame Elisabeth . 87 
 
 Different Seals used by Madame Elisabeth and attached 
 
 to her Letters 89 
 
 The Tower of the Temple 125 
 
 Fac-simile of Signatures to Examination op Mme. Elisabeth 316 
 
LIFE AND LETTERS 
 
 OF 
 
 Madame Elisabeth de France. 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 Introductory. — Sketch of the Life of Madame jfelisabeth from her Child- 
 hood until August 10, 1792. 
 
 Many records of Madame Elisabeth exist, but only two of 
 real authority : the " Eloge historique de Mme. Elisabeth de 
 France," by Antoine Eerrand, minister of State and peer of 
 France, first published in 1814 and again in 1861 ; and the 
 " Vie de Madame Elisabeth," by M. A. de Beauchesne, Paris, 
 1869. Both works contain a number of her letters. From 
 these volumes the following record has been made, chiefly in 
 their own (translated) words. The parts selected are the 
 simple historical facts of Mme. Elisabeth's story. The other 
 parts may not be false, — far be it from us to say they are, — 
 but they are so romantically tender as to convey a sense of 
 extravagance, and thus do injury to the noble figure which 
 the truth presents. For instance, it is recorded by her biog- 
 raphers that as her head fell into the basket a perfume of 
 roses was wafted over the Place Louis XV. The impression 
 that we of the present day receive from such a statement is 
 
 1 
 
2 LIFE AND LETTEES OF [chap. i. 
 
 of folly and fulsome flattery ; yet the essential truth is in 
 the simple facts, where the undying 
 
 actions of the just 
 Smell sweet, and blossom in the dust. 
 
 This record of Madame Elisabeth is here followed by the 
 " Journal of the Temple," written by Clery, the valet who at- 
 tended on Louis XVI. to the last hour of his life, and by the 
 far more valuable and even precious Narrative of that em- 
 bodiment of sorrow, Marie-Th^rfese de France, daughter of 
 Louis XVI. and Marie-Antoinette, and later Duchesse d'An- 
 goul^me. There we see the end of the great French mon- 
 archy (for the restored kings were not the monarchy). No 
 one can read this series of Memoirs — Saint-Simon, d'Argen- 
 son, Bernis — without realizing the causes of that mighty 
 fall ; not to be found so much in the career of the Great 
 Monarch as in the lowered standards he left behind him, 
 the corruption of the regency, and the long reign of his 
 great-grandson's vice and ineptitude which consolidated the 
 wrongs of France. 
 
 One fact shines clear above this mass of evil ; and it is 
 allowable to call the attention of the reader to it forcibly. 
 Beside the enervating depravity of the Eegent, the personal 
 cowardice and sloth of Louis XV., the lack of firmness and 
 regal assertion of Louis XVI. and his brothers, stands the 
 splendid courage, physical and moral, of the three women 
 whose ends are here recorded. 
 
 Blisabeth-Philippine-Marie-Helfene de France, daughter of 
 the Dauphin Louis, son of Louis XV., and Marie-Josfephe de 
 Saxe, was born at Versailles, May 3, 1764. Her three 
 brothers, the Due de Berry, the Comte de Provence, and the 
 Comte d' Artois, were taken to the chapel on the same day, 
 immediately after the king's mass, to witness her baptism, at 
 which were present also the king and queen, the king's sis- 
 
1792] MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE. 3 
 
 ters Mesdames Adelaide, Victoire, Sophie, and Louise, the 
 Due d'OrMans, the Due de Chartres, the Prince de Cond^, 
 the Prince and Princesse de Conti, the Due de Penthievre, 
 the Prince de Lamballe, and others. 
 
 At her birth Madame Elisabeth was so delicate that for 
 months her existence was a source of continual anxiety. 
 Her father died the following year, and her mother, the wise 
 and excellent Dauphine Marie-Josfephe, in 1767. The little 
 orphan was then given wholly to the care of the Comtesse 
 de Marsan (daughter of the Prince de Soubise), governess of 
 the Children of France, who was already bringing up Elisa- 
 beth's sister, Madame Clotilde de Trance, afterwards Queen 
 of Sardinia, who was four years and eight months older than 
 Elisabeth. The difference in character and temper was 
 greater still. Clotilde was born with the happiest disposi- 
 tion, which needed only to be encouraged and aided. Elisa- 
 beth was very different ; it was often necessary to oppose her 
 nature, and always to direct it. Proud, inflexible, passionate, 
 she had defects to be mastered which would have been re- 
 grettable in a lower rank ; in a princess of royal blood they 
 were intolerable. The task of Mme. de Marsan was a diffi- 
 cult one. Madame Elisabeth's self-will was powerful, proud 
 of her birth, she exacted around her supple instruments of 
 it ; she said she had no need to learn and tire herself use- 
 lessly, inasmuch as princes had about them persons whose 
 duty it was to think for them. She stamped with anger if 
 one of her women did not immediately bring her the thing 
 she asked for. The difference in the characters of the 
 sisters made a difference in the feelings of their governess 
 towards each. Jealousy came to increase the asperity of the 
 younger sister's nature. "If Clotilde had asked you," she 
 said, one day, when Mme. de Marsan had refused a request, 
 " she would have had it." 
 
4 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. i. 
 
 But Elisabeth was taken ill, and Clotilde insisted on taking 
 care of her. This illness developed between them feelings 
 of the tenderest affection; Clotilde taught her little sister 
 the alphabet and how to spell and form words, she gave her 
 little counsels which tended to soften her character, and she 
 inculcated in her the first notions of religion with which she 
 was already nourishing her own soul. 
 
 Still, Mme. de Marsan felt the want of aid in seconding 
 the reform in the child's nature which she had so much 
 at heart to bring about, and she cast her eyes on Mme. de 
 Mackau, whose husband had been minister of the king at 
 Eatisbon. This lady was educated at Saint-Cyr, an estab- 
 lishment which kept notes of not only the character and 
 merits of its pupils, but followed their careers in the world 
 for which it had formed them. It was from information 
 thus derived that Mme. de Marsan asked the king to appoint 
 Mme. de Mackau, who was living in retirement in Alsace, 
 as sub-governess. This choice proved to have all the ele- 
 ments required to work a happy change in the nature of a 
 self-willed and haughty child. Mme. de Mackau possessed 
 a firmness to which resistance yielded, and an affectionate 
 kindness which enticed attachment. Armed with almost 
 maternal power, she brought up the Children of France as 
 she would have trained her own children; overlooking no 
 fault ; knowing, if need were, how to make herself feared ; 
 all the while leading them to like virtue. To a superior 
 mind she added a dignity of tone and manners which in- 
 spired respect. When her pupil gave way to the fits of 
 haughty temper to which she was subject, Mme. de Mackau 
 showed on her countenance a displeased gravity, as if to re- 
 mind her that princes, like other persons, could not be liked 
 except for their virtues and their good qualities. Distressed 
 and disconcerted by this sudden and unexpected change, 
 
1792] MADAME IlLISABETH DE FKANCE. 5 
 
 Elisabeth, whose nature it was to be unable to feign or to 
 hide whatever was passing in her soul, gave in this way a 
 great advantage to her governess, quick to profit by the 
 knowledge she thus gained of the child's inner feelings. 
 
 Little by little, Elisabeth yielded to wise and friendly 
 management, and the defects which retarded her progress 
 and prevented her from getting the advantages of her educa- 
 tion gradually effaced themselves. Her wise governesses 
 neglected nothing that could form her mind ; they ac- 
 customed her to discuss questions with ease and without 
 pedantry ; to pose an argument properly, to examine it with 
 discernment, and to bring logic to bear upon it and solve it. 
 As all progress is accomplished only by degrees, the yoimg 
 princess continued for some time to commit her early faults. 
 On such occasions, becoming more and more rare, she met a 
 stem look, a stiff manner ; and that simple show of displeas- 
 ure was an efficacious correction. The proud and violent 
 qualities changed, little by little, into firmness of principles, 
 into a nobility and energy of feeling which made her in after 
 years superior to the trials that filled her life. 
 
 Deprived of her parents and of the tenderest emotions of 
 nature, her heart turned to fraternal love, which became from 
 childhood her dominant passion. She cherished her three 
 brothers, but a sort of predilection drew her to the Due de 
 Berry, the Dauphin. Was it that she already felt he would 
 be unhappy because he was fated to be king ? This tender- 
 ness of heart, which had so far served to correct Elisabeth's 
 defects, was destined to be the the source of her consolation, 
 her courage, her sorrows, and her devotion. 
 
 About this time, on certain days, when serious study was 
 over, a few young ladies of merit, of religious principles and 
 good education, were admitted to the privacy of the young 
 princesses. It was a circle created to utilize their leisure 
 
6 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. i. 
 
 as well as to amuse it, to form them to the customs of the 
 world, to teach them to express their ideas with grace and 
 concision, to judge of things with accuracy, and state their 
 judgments clearly. These meetings had the precious advan- 
 tage of being recreations which, under youthful gayety and 
 perfect modesty, initiated them unconsciously in that divin- 
 ing tact, that knowledge of the world, so difficult to acquire, 
 which consists in discerning at first sight the value of indi- 
 viduals, LQ estimating the nature and dominant spirit of each 
 society under whatever form it presents itself : in short, the 
 tact of sagacity, which became in the end so trained in Elisa- 
 beth that she was rarely mistaken in the opinion she 
 formed of persons or of the spirit of the society in which she 
 found herself. Madame Elisabeth seldom amused herself 
 with frivolous talk, she was never really interested iu a con- 
 versation unless there was something to gain from it. Time 
 was precious to her. 
 
 The Abb^ de Montdgut, canon of Chartres, who was ap- 
 pointed, in 1774, tutor to the Children of France, contributed 
 to develop in Madame Elisabeth the religious sentiments 
 which never left her in after life. He explained to her 
 the Gospels as being both the school of duty and the 
 source of consolations. She applied herself to their study 
 with a penetration above her age. One might almost say 
 that a secret inspiration warned her that she was destined to 
 find there the best and first of knowledge. As her intelli- 
 gence developed, those two precepts became deeply rooted 
 in her. Keligion seemed to her a chain of duties and conso- 
 lations, the first link of wliich, attached in heaven, was ever 
 drawing humanity towards its origin and its completion. 
 
 Mme. de Marsan, on her side, took her often to Saint-Cyr. 
 That royal establishment, which bore the impruit of a 
 saintly and majestic thought, awakened all the sympathies 
 
1792] MADAME ELISABETH DE PRANCE. 7 
 
 of th.e young girl, who never left it without regret and 
 promises to return. 
 
 Louis XV. died on the 10th of May, 1774, when Elisa- 
 beth was ten years old, and the Due de Berry, the Dauphin 
 and his wife, Marie-Antoinette, became King and Queen 
 of France ; the first nineteen years of age, the second 
 a year younger. That year and the next were passed 
 by the young princesses in their secluded school life, but 
 always accompanying the Court, whether at Versailles, Fon- 
 tainebleau. Marly, Compi^gne, or La Muette. The following 
 year Madame Elisabeth was confirmed and made her first 
 communion, and the sisters were parted by the marriage of 
 Clotilde to the Prince of Piedmont, afterwards King of Sar- 
 dinia. No sensation of sorrow had as yet affected Elisabeth's 
 heart ; her sister's departure was her first experience of it, 
 and when the moment of separation came, she clung to her 
 with such force that they were obliged to tear them apart. 
 Queen Marie-Antoinette, writing a few days later to her 
 mother, the empress, says : — 
 
 " My sister Elisabeth is a charming child, who has intelli- 
 gence, character, and much grace; she showed the greatest 
 feeling, and much above her age, at the departure of her 
 sister. The poor little girl was in despair, and as her health 
 is very delicate, she was taken ill and had a very severe 
 nervous attack. I own to my dear mamma that I fear I am 
 getting too attached to her, feeling, from the example of my 
 aunts, how essential it is for her happiness not to remain an 
 old maid in this country." 
 
 It was on the 12th of May, 1776, that Turgot and Male- 
 sherbes, the two ministers whom the philosophical party, the 
 " party of progress," had brought into power to effect reforms 
 at the beginning of the new reign, quitted their ministry. 
 " Ah ! " cried Louis XVL, as Malesherbes asked him to accept 
 
8 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. i. 
 
 Ms resignation : " how fortunate you are ! would that I could 
 get away also ! " It would take too long here to enter into 
 public details which have not as yet a close connection with 
 the life of Madame Elisabeth ; suffice it to say briefly, that 
 all efforts at reform on the part of these ministers and the 
 young monarch miscarried. The king's edicts which sup- 
 pressed the corvee (forced labour) and abolished corporations 
 and their privilege, were bitterly opposed in parliament ; and 
 it required a lit de justice to enforce their registration. All 
 attempts to reform the army made by the Comte de Saint- 
 Germain, minister of war, and his auxiliary, M. de Guibert,^ 
 also failed. With singular unwisdom they contrived to dis- 
 please the officers and discontent the troops at the very 
 moment when it was so necessary to be able to count upon 
 the inviolable fidelity of the army. 
 
 Nothing, therefore, of all that was attempted succeeded 
 well, and Louis XVI. began the second portion of his reign 
 with vanished illusions and fears for the future. 
 
 On the 17th of May, 1778, the Court went to Marly. The 
 king having determined to give his sister an establishment, 
 she was on that day resigned into his hands by her then 
 governess, the Princesse de Guemenee, and His Majesty 
 gave her the Comtesse Diane de Polignac as lady of honour, 
 with the Marquise de S^rent as lady-in-waiting. From that 
 moment there was question of her marriage. Her hand 
 seemed, in the first instance, destined to the Infant of 
 Portugal, Prince of Brazil, who was the same age as herself 
 and would eventually have brought her the title of queen. 
 While she saw the conveniences of this alliance, Madame 
 Elisabeth was far from wishing it, and though she personally 
 put no obstacle in the way, she was comforted on learning 
 that the negotiations were broken off. 
 
 1 The lover of Mile, de Lespinasse. — Tr. 
 
1792] MADAME :fcLISABETH DE FRANCE. 9 
 
 Shortly after, two other princes sought the honour of 
 obtaining her hand. One was the Duke of Aosta, who was 
 five years older than herself and could give her, in a neigh- 
 bouring and friendly Court, a place on the steps of a throne 
 beside her sister Clotilde; but the political pride of the 
 government asserted that a secondary place at the Court of 
 Sardinia was not becoming to a Daughter of France. Her 
 third suitor was the Emperor Joseph II., brother of Marie- 
 Antoinette, who on the occasion of his journey to France the 
 preceding year had been struck by the vivacity of her mind 
 and the sweetness of her nature. But the anti-Austrian 
 party, which by that time (1783) prevailed at Court, where 
 it had already sown around the queen distrust and hatreds, 
 dreaded an alliance which might be contrary to its ascen- 
 dancy, and set to work to prevent it. The intrigue succeeded. 
 It was said, without grounds, that Madame Elisabeth felt 
 some regret at this conclusion. The emperor had not yet 
 shown in politics the eccentricities of his mind, and he had 
 just lost a wife whose youth, virtues, and piety had won the 
 love and benedictions of a whole people.^ But Madame 
 Elisabeth, although she assuredl}^ possessed all the qualities 
 that fitted her for such an inheritance, seemed to attach no 
 greater value to this union than to the other marriages with 
 which policy had interfered. 
 
 As time went on, Madame Elisabeth strengthened herself 
 perceptibly against the dangers of her nature, her age, and 
 the Court ; she felt more and more what was lacking in her. 
 Her efforts increased from her self-distrust, and the more she 
 acquired higher qualities the less she knew herself capable 
 of the perfection she sought to attain. It was this feeling 
 
 1 She was the daughter of Madame Infanta Duchess of Parma, oldest 
 twin daughter of Louis XV., consequently the first cousin of Madame 
 ::fclisabeth. — Tr. 
 
10 LIFE AND LETTEKS OF' [chap. i. 
 
 of humility wliicli gave to her speech an exquisite restraint, 
 to her actions a prudent reserve, and to her charity a wise 
 discretion. 
 
 All the young girls who had been brought in contact with 
 Madame Elisabeth or had grown up with her, sharing her 
 studies and her pleasures, gave her a warm and sincere de- 
 votion; to them she was not the princess but the friend, 
 "How lovable you are, my heart," she says in one place, 
 " to wish to forget that I am princess ; nothing could give 
 me greater pleasure than to forget it myself; I say it as I 
 think it. Friendship, you see, my Bombelles, is a second 
 life, which sustains us in this low world." 
 
 Among these young girls were two or three whom her 
 heart distinguished specially, and with them she corre- 
 sponded steadily to the last of her living life. One was 
 Mile, de Mackau, the daughter of the lady to whom she 
 owed so much, who was early married to the Marquis de 
 Bombelles, then ambassador to Portugal, and at the time of 
 the Eevolution ambassador to Venice. Another was Mile. 
 Marie de Causans, third daughter of the Marquise de 
 Causans, who was appointed by the king, at the time 
 Madame Elisabeth's establishment was formed, as lady of 
 honour and superintendent of his sister's household. Her 
 second daughter, Virginie, was chanoinesse at Metz, who spent 
 the months of her vacation in Madame Elisabeth's establish- 
 ment. The love between them became so strong that the 
 princess dreading the moment of the young girl's return to 
 her Chapter endeavoured to make her one of her own ladies- 
 in-waiting ; but the Marquise de Causans, although a widow 
 of small means and a large family, made it a principle that 
 none of her four daughters should hold office at Court unless 
 she was married, and she turned a deaf ear to Madame Elis- 
 abeth's entreaties. Then a thought came to the princess; 
 
1792] MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE. 11 
 
 she went one morning to the queen and said in her coaxing, 
 gentle way : " Promise to grant me what I am going to ask 
 of you." The queen, before promising, wished to know the 
 request, and a playful battle ensued. Finally Madame Elisa- 
 beth yielded and said : " I want to give Causans a dot ; ask 
 the king to advance me for five years the thirty thousand 
 francs he always gives me as a New Year's gift." The 
 queen very willingly took charge of the commission, and 
 the king as willingly granted the request. The Marquis 
 de Eaigecourt presented himself as a husband, and Louis 
 XVI. appointed the young wife as lady-in-waiting to his 
 sister. Her joy knew no bounds. For five years she 
 received no presents, and when the matter was mentioned 
 she would say, " I have no presents yet, but I have my 
 Eaigecourt." The fifth year expired in 1789, but by that 
 time public difficulties intervened, and the custom of years 
 was given up. 
 
 A brother of Mme. de Eaigecourt, the Marquis de Causans, 
 a member of the States General, was also a friend of Madame 
 Elisabeth, who kept up a close correspondence with him on 
 the events of the time. Her letters were said by him to 
 contain very just and lofty conceptions on passing events, 
 and especially on what was taking place in the Assembly. 
 That collection of letters, in which the energy of her spirit 
 and the penetration of her views were visible, it is said, 
 on every page, was confided by the Marquis de Causans, at 
 the time he was compelled to emigrate, to hands which he 
 had every reason to consider peculiarly safe ; but it disap- 
 peared in one of those cataclysms of which the revolutionary 
 tornado produced so many examples. 
 
 Madame Elisabeth's letters to Mme. de Bombelles and 
 Mme. de Eaigecourt, while somewhat cautious as to public 
 affairs, nevertheless express, as we shall see later, a sound 
 
12 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. i. 
 
 and independent judgment on principles and passing events, 
 and are the only personal revelation of her heart and mind 
 which we possess before the black pall drops forever, on the 
 10th of August, 1792, between the family in the Temple and 
 the world. 
 
 The domestic happiness which Madame Elisabeth now 
 began to enjoy in her own little circle seems to have 
 reigned in the palace of Versailles as well. Never before 
 did the Court of France present such a sight : a young 
 queen living in perfect harmony with two sisters-iu-law of 
 her own age, and a young king liking to lean on the friend- 
 ship of his two brothers. "The greatest intimacy," says 
 Mme. Campan, " existed between the three households [that 
 of the king, that of Monsieur, the Comte de Provence, and 
 that of the Comte d'Artois]. " They met together at meals, 
 and ate apart only when their dinners were in public. This 
 manner of family living lasted until the time when the 
 queen allowed herself to dine occasionally with the Du- 
 chesse de Polignac, but the evening meeting for supper was 
 never interrupted, and it took place always in the apartments 
 of the Comtesse de Provence. Madame Elisabeth took her 
 place there as soon as she had finished her education, and 
 sometimes Mesdames, the king's aunts, were invited. This 
 family intimacy, which had no precedent at Court, was the 
 work of Queen Marie-Antoinette, and she maintained it 
 with great perseverance." 
 
 The interests and pleasures of a young Court nevertheless 
 gave rise to intrigues which at times divided the members 
 of the royal family. The king and his brothers were each of 
 different natures, Louis XVI., who possessed the virtues 
 of an honest man, was far from having all those which are 
 required in a king. His self-distrust was extreme. "While 
 he was still dauphin, if a question arose that was difficult 
 
1792] MADAME IJLISABETH DE FRANCE. 13 
 
 to decide, "Ask my brother of Provence about that," he 
 would say. Trustful in others, he surrendered his own will 
 readily ; but if he discovered that any one deceived him he 
 flew into fits of passion. He had neither firmness of char- 
 acter nor grace of manner. Like certain excellent fruits 
 with a knotty rind, his exterior was rough, but the heart 
 perfect. Stern to himself alone, he kept the laws of the 
 Church rigorously, abstained and fasted during the forty 
 Lenten days, but thought it right that the queen should not 
 imitate him. Sincerely pious, but trained to tolerance by 
 the influence of the century in which he lived, he was also 
 disposed, too disposed perhaps, to yield the prerogatives of 
 the throne whenever the interests of his people were alleged 
 to him ; forgetting that one of the first interests of a nation 
 is the maintenance of a strong and incontestable power. 
 A weak royalty is impotent both to do good and to prevent 
 evil. 
 
 There was in Louis XVI. something honest which did not 
 accept complete liability {solidarite) for the preceding reign ; 
 but, heir of a regime of which he bore the weight, he was ill 
 at ease between a past which roused repugnance and a 
 future, not threatening as yet, but full of doubts and mys- 
 tery. Simple, economical, liking to read and study, seeking 
 to forget his throne in the exercise of hunting or of manual 
 labour, detesting women without virtue and men without con- 
 science, he seems a stranger in his own Court, where morals 
 were light and consciences easy. A young king, given to 
 moderation and faithful to duty, regarding himself as the 
 father of all Frenchmen, but especially drawn to those who 
 were weakest, could not be appreciated by courtiers, men for 
 the most part frivolous and in debt, corrupters or corrupted, 
 who regarded innovations as a danger and reforms as a crime. 
 
 The Comte de Provence, whose intellect and education 
 
14 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. i. 
 
 were on a par, concealed beneath a prudent dignity his re- 
 gret at not being put by fate in the first rank. Versed in the 
 cultm-e of letters, aided by a wonderful memory, he felt him- 
 self, in a literary aspect, to be far superior to the king his 
 brother. This sentiment was born in him from childhood. 
 One day the Due de Berry, playing with his brothers, used 
 the expression il pleuva. " What a barbarism ! " cried the 
 Comte de Provence, "a prince ought to know his own 
 tongue." " And you ought to hold yours," retorted the elder. 
 
 Monsieur took pleasure in the society of men of letters ; he 
 endeavoured to explain to himself the source and inspiration 
 of the new ideas that rose on the horizon, he prepared him- 
 self for events that he might not be surprised by them ; he 
 temporized with parties and united with none ; he lived with 
 his brothers without dissensions and without confidence ; he 
 toyed with opinion coldly ; and when the day came that un- 
 fortimate arrangements made the king's departure a failure 
 at Varennes, he cleverly kept out of danger and reserved 
 himself for the future. 
 
 The Comte d'Artois was a type of the Frenchman of the 
 olden time ; careless in temperament, gay in mind, and with 
 all the chivalrous graces. Well made, choice in his toilet, 
 adroit at all exercises of the body, he never appreciated 
 grandeur except for the advantages it gave him, nor fortune 
 except for the pleasures it procures. The manner in which 
 he regarded women followed him even into the sanctuary. 
 " Monseigneur," said the Bishop of Limoges on one occasion, 
 " I have a favour to ask of your Eoyal Highness, — it is that 
 you will not come to mass." Born iu a frivolous and vo- 
 luptuous Court, he took the habits of it ; but his heart was 
 generous, and that quality survived exile, a throne, and 
 disaster. 
 
 It is easy to see how around three such princes men of 
 
1792] MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE. 15 
 
 different morals and ideas grouped themselves ; honest men 
 were near Louis XVI., politicians near the Comte de Pro- 
 vence, the frivolous and volatile near the Comte d'Artois. 
 Thus the friends of the king were few, those of Monsieur 
 numerous, those of the Comte d'Artois innumerable. The 
 last had the pretension to think themselves directly under 
 the patronage of the queen, who, lively and brilliant, wanted 
 the pleasures of her age and took delight in the Comte d'Ar- 
 tois, who amused her and whose tastes were somewhat like 
 her own. The jealous and malignant spirit of a swarm of 
 courtiers endeavoured to make a crime of the queen's liking 
 for the gay young brother-in-law, but they have not suc- 
 ceeded, to the eyes of history, in poisoning amusements wit- 
 nessed by the whole Court, not to speak of the Comtesse 
 d'Artois, whose affection for the queen remained unchanged. 
 
 Such was the interior of the palace of Versailles during 
 the years which preceded the Eevolution. The princes and 
 princesses of the blood seldom appeared there ; their tastes 
 and habits were different. " Of the three branches of the 
 House of Bourbon," said the old Mar^chal de Eichelieu, one 
 day, "each has a ruling and pronounced taste: the eldest 
 loves hunting; the Orleans love pictures; the Condes love 
 war." " And Louis XVL," some one asked, " what does he 
 love ? " " Oh, he is different, he loves the people." 
 
 Except on occasions of formal etiquette, the absence from 
 Court of the princes of the blood was noticeable. Exception 
 must be made, however, of the Princesse de Lamballe, whose 
 functions, as superintendent of the queen's household and 
 her affection for the queen herself, kept her always at Court. 
 The princes of the blood, whom the quarrels with parliament 
 had thrown into the Opposition, considered it advisable to 
 add to the privileges of then birth the advantages of popu- 
 larity obtained by the so-called independence of their opin- 
 
16 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. i. 
 
 ions. The time was coining when the great House of Bourbon 
 was to weaken and condemn itself to impotence by the fall- 
 ing apart of its sheaves. 
 
 Madame Elisabeth was now, at the age of fifteen, to find 
 herself mistress of her actions, surrounded by the splendours 
 of fortune, invited to share all pleasures, and observed by 
 every eye. What is liberty at that age if not release from 
 study, amusement, toilet, jewels, and f^tes ? Such was not 
 the programme of the king's young sister. Her conscience 
 took upon itself the duty of exercising the same control and 
 watchfulness over her conduct that her governesses had just 
 laid down. " My education is not finished," she said ; " I 
 shall continue it under the same rules; I shall keep my 
 masters, and the same hours will be given to religion, the 
 study of languages, belles-lettres, instructive conversations, 
 and to my walks and rides on horseback." And she kept 
 to all that she thus planned. 
 
 Her appearance at this time has been described and painted, 
 although she herself had a great repugnance to sitting for her 
 picture. Her figure was not tall, neither had her bearing that 
 majesty which was so much admired in the queen ; her nose 
 had the shape which is characteristic of the Bourbon face ; 
 but her forehead with its pure lines giving to her counte- 
 nance its marked character of nobleness and candour, her 
 dark blue eyes with their penetrating sweetness, her mouth 
 with its smile that showed her pretty teeth, and the expres- 
 sion of intelligence and goodness that pervaded her whole 
 person formed a charming and sympathetic presence. 
 
 It was at this time that she began to reflect on public 
 affairs, and her first strong interest was in America. In spite 
 of many difficulties, Louis XVI. had succeeded in mak- 
 ing certain useful reforms in the interior of the kingdom. 
 He abolished the corvee, substituting for it taxes in money ; 
 
1792] MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE. 17 
 
 he created in Paris the Mont-de-Piet6 (pawn or loan shops) 
 and the Caisse d'Escompte ; he also calmed the public fear of 
 bankruptcy by securing the payment of the Funds {rentes) 
 on the H6tel-de-Ville. The first political event of his reign 
 was the war of independence in America. By an act recently 
 put forth, the English Parliament declared it " had the right 
 to force the colonies to obey all its laws and in all cases." 
 It was this act, the execution of which destroyed the very 
 shadow of freedom, which produced the American Eevolution. 
 
 The representatives of the future United States assembled 
 and by a solemn act declared the inhabitants of the colonies 
 free and independent and released from all relations with 
 England. This Congress called religion to the support of the 
 dawning liberty, and placed America beneath the immediate 
 protection of Providence. That august dedication was made 
 with great ceremony : a crown, consecrated to God, was 
 placed upon the Bible ; and that crown was then divided 
 into thirteen parts for the deputies of the thirteen prov- 
 inces, and medals were struck to commemorate this event. 
 All the women of the country, at their head the wife of 
 "Washington, made themselves remarkable for their patriotic 
 zeal ; acts of an ancient chivalry and heroism signalized this 
 memorable war, the reading of which wrung tears of ad- 
 miration and enthusiasm from Madame Elisabeth. 
 
 We cannot enter into the details of the great events that 
 follow. Our troops were fortunate in this war as auxiliaries ; 
 America threw off the British yoke and secured her inde- 
 pendence, but our navy and that of Spain, our ally, suffered 
 cruelly. This war, although it was, like all war, contrary to 
 the feelings of humanity in Madame Elisabeth, nevertheless 
 flattered her national pride, and made the sacrifices which 
 ended in her brother's glory and that of the nation less pain- 
 ful to bear. But what she especially noted with warm satis- 
 
 2 
 
18 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. i. 
 
 faction throughout the struggle was the generous spirit that 
 ruled it and sometimes lessened its evils. Thus she read 
 with pleasure in a report, addressed November 26, 1781, to 
 the minister of the navy, by the Marquis de Bouill^, then 
 governor of Martinique, that the French troops under his 
 orders had, on seizing the island of Saint-Eustache, shown 
 a spirit of justice and loyalty equal to their patience and 
 courage. 
 
 " I found in the government house," writes M. de Bouill6, 
 " the sum of a million sterling which was in sequestration, 
 awaiting a decision of the court of London. It belonged to 
 the Dutch ; and I made it over to them after obtauiing 
 authentic proofs of their ownership." 
 
 And again, in another report to the minister of the navy, 
 Captain de la P6rouse, commanding a squadron of the king, 
 writing on board the " Sceptre " in the Hudson straits, Sep- 
 tember 6, 1782, says : — 
 
 " I took care, when burning the fort at York, to leave a 
 rather considerable storehouse at a distance from the fire, 
 in which I deposited provisions, powder, shot, guns, and a 
 certain quantity of European merchandise, such as was suit- 
 able to exchange with savages, in order that the English, 
 who I know have taken refuge in the woods, may find, on 
 their return to their old quarters, enough for their subsis- 
 tence until the English authorities have been informed of 
 their situation. I feel certain that the king will approve my 
 conduct in this respect, and that in thus providing for those 
 unfortunates I have only forestalled the benevolent inten- 
 tions of His Majesty." Such facts as these were collected 
 and told by Madame Elisabeth with delight. 
 
 In the year 1781 the king bought the property of the 
 Princesse de Gudmdn^e, at Montreuil, which the wreck of her 
 husband's fortunes did not allow her to retain. He asked 
 
1792] MADAME IjLISABETH DE FEANCE. 19 
 
 the queen, to whom he had confided his project, to invite 
 Elisabeth to go to Montreuil when they next drove out to- 
 gether, and take her (with a purpose) into the house of 
 her former governess, of which he knew his sister was very 
 fond. Delighted with the surprise she was to give to the 
 young girl, Marie-Antoinette gave the invitation : " If you 
 like," she said, " we will stop on our way at MontreuH, where 
 you were so fond of going when a chUd." Elisabeth replied 
 that it would be a great pleasure. On arriving, they found 
 everything arranged to receive them, and as soon as they had 
 entered the salon the queen said : " Sister, you are in your 
 own house. This is to be your Trianon. The king, who 
 gives himself the pleasure of giving it to you, gives me the 
 pleasure of telling you." 
 
 The brotherly inspiration of Louis XVI. was not at fault. 
 This gift became to Madame Elisabeth a source of infinite 
 enjoyment ; for from this moment she was able to associate 
 her dearest friends familiarly with her daily existence, and 
 escape from the pomps of Court whenever her duty did not 
 require her presence there. Madame Elisabeth was born for 
 private intimacy; lively, confiding, and expansive in her 
 familiar circle of a few friends, she was timid, reserved, 
 and even embarrassed, not only in the queen's salons, but in 
 her own, surrounded by all her ladies. It was therefore to 
 her a source of the keenest enjoyment, or rather of happi- 
 ness, to have this private home of her own with its rural 
 delights. 
 
 The park and mansion, of which she now took possession, 
 was near the barrier at the entrance to Versailles on the road 
 to Paris. The park itself was of twelve acres, charmingly di- 
 versified with greensward and trees, and with shrubbery paths 
 among the copses in all directions. A large section of the 
 property Madame Elisabeth presently devoted to a cow- 
 
20 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. i. 
 
 pasture, dairy, vegetable and fruit gardens, and a poultry-yard. 
 In the middle of a lawn, shaded with trees and shrubs and 
 brightened with beds of flowers, stood the house, the peri- 
 style of which was supported by four marble columns. 
 The first act of the young proprietor was to give a small 
 house on the estate to Mme. de Mackau, whose permanent 
 home it became. 
 
 The king decided that until Madame Elisabeth had 
 reached her twenty-fifth year (she was now eighteen) she 
 should not sleep at Montreuil ; but as soon as she was put in 
 possession of her dear domain she passed the entire day there, 
 and was only at Versailles in the evening and at night, or for 
 occasions of ceremony. She heard mass in the morning in 
 the Chapel of the Chateau, and immediately after it went 
 with certain of her friends in a carriage, or on horseback, an 
 exercise of which she was very fond, or sometimes on foot 
 to Montreuil. The life she led there was uniform, like that 
 of a family in some country chateau a hundred leagues from 
 Paris. Hours for study, work, and rambles, either alone or 
 with friends, occupied her time; the dinner-hour brought 
 them all together around the same table. 
 
 Little by little her occupations increased. She laid out her 
 farm, her dairy, her kitchen-gardens and poultry-yard, and 
 became herself the farmer of the place ; she loved all rural 
 interests. She had an overseer, to whom she gave full 
 authority under herself ; and this man and those under him 
 fulfilled her orders with such care and assiduity that no dis- 
 putes and no complaints ever troubled that happy solitude. 
 
 But Madame Elisabeth was not satisfied with her own en- 
 joyment of the place. Soon she became the friend and 
 providence of the neighbouring village and its environs. She 
 knew all the inhabitants personally ; their interests became 
 hers; young girls were dowered and married, the old 
 
^ 
 ^ 
 
 1 
 
 -S 
 
1792] MADAME I^LISABETH DE FRANCE. 21 
 
 and the worthy were cared for, the sick were nursed and 
 doctored. The milk of her dairy went to the children, the 
 vegetables and fruits to the sick ; often she could be seen at- 
 tending to the distribution herself. All this was not done 
 without personal sacrifice. Her means were comparatively 
 small ; she had only the pension which she received as sister 
 of the king, but she eked it out by economy, — economy on 
 herself, be it said. " Yes, that is very pretty," she replied, 
 when urged to buy a jewel which she fancied, " but with 
 that money I could set up two little homes." Various other 
 anecdotes of this kind have come down to us, but Madame 
 Elisabeth herself frowned on any notice being taken of such 
 deeds. On one occasion, when the Bishop of Alais made her 
 a fulsome speech of admiration, she said, blushing, that he 
 judged her far too favourably. " Madame," he replied, " I am 
 not even on the level of my subject." " You are right," she 
 said, with a certain little sarcasm that was all her own; 
 " you are very much above it." 
 
 One pleasure which she derived from her new way of liv- 
 ing was that of seeing her brothers with greater freedom. 
 Monsieur would often drive out to Montreuil and spend 
 hours with her. " My brother, the Comte de Provence," she 
 said one day, "is the most enlightened of advisers. His 
 judgment on men and things is seldom mistaken, and his 
 vast memory supplies him with an inexhaustible source of 
 interesting anecdotes." The society of the Comte d'Artois 
 gave her interests of another kind. More sensible than he, 
 she often permitted herself to lecture him. Gay and heed- 
 less, he laughed at her advice, but as he advanced in life he 
 began to love her with a tenderness mingled with vener- 
 ation, a feeling which increased as misfortunes closed down 
 upon them. After he had left France, those about him could 
 guess when he received a letter from her ; emotion showed 
 
22 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. i. 
 
 on his features and his hands trembled as he opened it. 
 Eeciprocal affection between a brother and sister was never 
 keener, truer, or more expansive. 
 
 Madame Elisabeth's relation to Louis XVI. was of still 
 another character. They both seemed aware that she was, 
 and would be, necessary to him. She liked to visit her aunt 
 Louise, the Carmelite nun at Saint-Denis. The king became 
 uneasy at the frequency of these visits. " I am very will- 
 ing," he said to her one day, " that you should go and see 
 your aunt, but only on condition that you will not imitate 
 her. Elisabeth, I nud you'' Her heart had told her that 
 already, and the time was swiftly approaching when 
 she obeyed the inward call and gave up her life to him. 
 
 Thus flowed the days of the happy young princess imtil 
 the terrible winter of 1788-89, when the sufferings of 
 the poor exhausted her means and made her run in debt to 
 advance to the starved and frozen people what she called 
 " their revenue." Her letters show that already she foresaw, 
 and rightly, the public troubles that were soon to appear. 
 She knew the character of the king ; she believed that his 
 impolitic action on the 8th of May, 1788, could end only 
 in the recall of the parliament, of M. Necker, and the con- 
 vocation of the States-General. In a letter of hers dated 
 June 9, 1788, she says : " The king returns upon his steps, 
 as did our grandfather. He is always afraid of being mis- 
 taken; his first impulse passed, he is tormented by a fear 
 of doing injustice. ... It seems to me," she continues, " that 
 it is in government as it is in education : one should not say 
 / will, unless one is sure of being right ; then, once said, 
 nothing should be given up of what has been ordained." 
 Madame Elisabeth would fain have had the king take that 
 principle as his rule of conduct, and she foresaw the evils 
 that his kindness and his weakness would produce. "I 
 
1792] MADAME ifcLISABETH DE FRANCE. 23 
 
 see a thousand things," she says, " which he does not even 
 suspect, because his soul is so good that intrigue is foreign to 
 it." The note of foreboding, not, perhaps, fully compre- 
 hended by her own mind, is in much that she says and 
 writes at this period. Instinctively she turns to the support 
 of her life — to the spnit of faith — and we find her in- 
 most thoughts in a prayer to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, 
 written at this time and given to Mme. de Eaigecourt, the 
 manuscript of which, in her own handwriting, is preserved 
 in the Bibliothfeque Rationale: — 
 
 " Adorable heart of Jesus, sanctuary of the love that led 
 God to make himself man, to sacrifice his life for our salva- 
 tion, and to make of his body the food of our souls: in 
 gratitude for that infinite charity I give you my heart, and 
 with it all that I possess in this world, all that I am, all that 
 I shall do, all that I shall suffer. But, my God, may this 
 heart, I implore you, be no longer unworthy of you ; make it 
 like unto yourself ; surround it with your thorns and close its 
 entrance to all ill-regulated affections ; set there your cross, 
 make it feel its worth, make it willing to love it. Kindle 
 it with your divine flame. May it burn for your glory ; may 
 it be all yours, when you have done what you will with it. 
 You are its consolation in its troubles, the remedy of its ills, 
 its strength and refuge in temptation, its hope during life, its 
 haven in death. I ask you, heart so loving, the same 
 favour for my companions. So be it." 
 
 " Aspiration. 
 
 " divine heart of Jesus ! I love you, I adore you, I invoke 
 you, with my companions, for all the days of my life, but 
 especially for the hour of my death. 
 vere adorator et unice amafor Dei, miserere nobis. Amen." 
 
24 LIFE AND LETTEKS OF [chap. i. 
 
 It was on the 5th of October, 1789, the day when the 
 Parisian mob of men and women marched to Versailles and 
 compelled the king to take the fatal step of going to Paris, 
 that Madame Elisabeth was suddenly, without warning, 
 hurried from her dear Montreuil, never to enter it again. 
 From the terrace of her garden she saw the first coming of 
 the populace, and, mounting her horse, she rode to the palace. 
 The king was out hunting, but messengers had gone for him, 
 and when he returned she urged him to stand firm against 
 this vanguard of anarchy, saying that a vigorous and immedi- 
 ate repression would avert great future evils, and advising 
 with true instinct that if the royal family left Versailles at 
 all, it should be for a town at a distance from Paris, where 
 loyal men could rally to the king and enable him to break 
 through the tyranny that the factions were beginning to 
 exercise. 
 
 For a moment he seemed to listen to her and to the coun- 
 sels of M. de Saint-Priest, minister of the interior, whose 
 opinions agreed entirely with hers. But his firmness gave 
 way before the views of M. Necker, and he consented to 
 negotiate, as power to power, with the rioters. Prompted by 
 its leaders, the mob demanded that the king should instantly 
 fix his residence in Paris, and M. de la Fayette sent message 
 after message urging him to comply. Madame Elisabeth 
 expressed her contrary opinion: "It is not to Paris, Sire, 
 that you should go. You have still devoted battalions and 
 faithful guards to protect you. I implore you, my brother, 
 not to go to Paris." 
 
 The king, pulled this way and that by conflicting opin- 
 ions, hesitated too long ; the moment for resistance went by ; 
 the troops, indignant at a thoughtless neglect of them, lost 
 ardour, and the king, without initiative, without will, deferred 
 to the clamour of the multitude and gave his promise to 
 
1792] MADAME :fcLISABETH DE FRANCE. 25 
 
 depart. As the miserable procession passed Montreuil, 
 Madame Elisabeth bent forward in the carriage to look at 
 the trees of her dear domain, " Are you bowing to Montreuil, 
 sister ? " asked the king. " Sire, I am bidding it farewell," 
 she answered gently. 
 
 From this time she shared the captivity — for such it was 
 — of her brother and his family. At first a semblance of 
 social life was kept up at the Tuileries. The Princesse de 
 Lamballe tried to gather a society about her, and the queen 
 for a while appeared at her assemblies ; but confidence and 
 safety were gone ; this last effort of gayety, begun by the 
 princess to brighten the queen's life, ceased, and the royal 
 family took up a system of living which they followed ever 
 after, even in the Temple. During the mornings the queen 
 and Madame Elisabeth superintended the lessons of Madame 
 Eoyale and the dauphin, and worked at large pieces of 
 tapestry. Their minds were too preoccupied by the events 
 of the day, the perils of the present and the threats of the 
 future, to allow them to read books, as they did later in the 
 awful silence and monotony of the Tower; needlework be- 
 came their sole distraction. Mile. Dubuquois, who kept a 
 shop for wools and tapestries, long preserved and exhibited a 
 carpet made by the two princesses for the large room of the 
 queen's apartment on the ground floor of the Tuileries. 
 
 During this time Madame Elisabeth continued whenever 
 the opportunity came to her to urge the king to assert him- 
 self and firmly maintain his power and the monarchy. 
 When M. de Favras was executed (February 19, 1790) and 
 the king did not, or could not, interfere to save him, she 
 exclaimed in the bitterness of her heart : " They have killed 
 Favras because he tried to save the king, and the days of 
 October 5th and 6th remain unpunished ! Oh, if the king 
 would only le kiug, how all would change ! " She saw with 
 
26 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. i. 
 
 dread the coming crisis which, breaking the lines of govern- 
 ment, would render the king's will impotent and repression 
 impossible. This conviction appears in many details of her 
 life. Noticing that one of her ladies looked attentively into 
 the garden of the Tuileries (May, 1791), she asked what 
 attracted her attention. " Madame, I am looking at our 
 good master, who is walking there." "Our master!" she 
 exclaimed. " Ah ! to our sorrow, he is that no longer." 
 
 The queen shared the anxiety that the king's weakness 
 inspired in Madame Elisabeth, but she had a hope which 
 Madame Elisabeth did not share. She was convinced that 
 the safety of the royal family and the French monarchy 
 would be undertaken by Austria, and that some efficacious 
 succour would come from that direction, without her making 
 any appeal for ifc This was attributing to her brother and 
 the cabinet of Vienna a generosity they were far from hav- 
 ing, and admitting a hope which her enemies were not slow 
 in turning into a crime. 
 
 It should here be remarked that Madame Elisabeth judged 
 the politics of the European cabinets with severity. She was 
 very far from approving the official advice and crafty insinu- 
 ations which made their way to Queen Marie-Antoinette. 
 Having a profound aversion for all that did not seem to her 
 upright, just, and straightforward, she was convinced that the 
 secret proceedings of the Comte de Mercy — " that fox," as 
 she called him — would prove fatal; but being without power 
 to combat that influence, she could only pity Marie-Antoi- 
 nette for enduring it, and for lending an ear to counsels 
 which, without serving the family welfare, compromised, in 
 her opinion, the stability of her brother's throne. To be 
 just, we must here remark that Madame Elisabeth had been 
 brought up, like all the princesses of the House of France, to 
 distrust Austria. The same feelings could not be expected 
 
1792] MADAME ^ILISABETH DE FRANCE. 27 
 
 of the daughter of Maria Theresa. Equitable history will 
 recognize that Marie-Antoinette never dreamed of sacrificing 
 France to her native country ; but she did hope and believe 
 that the alliance with the House of Austria, of which her 
 marriage had been a pledge, would serve the interests of the 
 two nations, and be a support to the French monarchy now 
 shaken to its foundations. 
 
 The day came at last when Louis XVI., goaded by his vir- 
 tual captivity and exposed to the virulent actions of the clubs 
 as well as to the monstrous insults of the street populace, 
 attempted to recover power. He resolved to leave Paris and 
 raise his standard elsewhere in France, thus following, on 
 the 20th of June, 1791, the advice his sister had given him 
 October 5, 1789. ^ 
 
 The story of the escape from Paris and the stoppage at 
 Varennes is too fully told elsewhere to repeat it here. Ma- 
 dame Elisabeth makes only brief allusion to it in her letters 
 of that date. After their return to Paris M. de la Fayette, ap- 
 pointed by the National Assembly governor of the Tuileries 
 and keeper of the king and royal family, offered to allow 
 Madame Elisabeth to leave the kingdom. This she refused 
 to accept, and that decision sealed her fate. Nevertheless, 
 she shuddered as she contemplated with clear eyes the posi- 
 tion of the king and queen, deprived of all military support, 
 reduced to beg their friends to go away from them, isolated 
 henceforth on a throne without power, captives in a palace 
 which was really a prison, and forbidden the last right of 
 misfortune, that of complaint. She saw that in vain the 
 king had sacrificed his prerogatives, given up his rights, 
 abandoned his honours ; the factions by this time disputed 
 even his right to think, and measured out to him and his 
 family the very air they breathed. Madame Elisabeth made 
 herself no illusions as to the projects of the anarchists ; on 
 
28 LIFE AND LETTEES OF [chap. i. 
 
 the 20th of June, 1792, the anniversary of the capture at 
 Varennes, they justified her fears. 
 
 She relates the events of that day in a letter, omitting, 
 however, certain acts of her own which redound to her glory. 
 As the king left his family to face the mob, she followed him, 
 and darting through the door, which was instantly locked 
 behind her, she placed herself beside him as he stood on 
 a table which the pressure of the mob had forced him to 
 mount with the honnet rouge upon his head. The populace 
 took her for the queen and threatened her. " Do not unde- 
 ceive them," she said. There she remained for several hours, 
 exposed to the vilest insults. Once when a bayonet almost 
 touched her breast, she turned it aside with her hand, saying : 
 " Take care, monsieur, you might wound me, and I am sure 
 you would be sorry for that." 
 
 A woman of the people, speaking the next day of the fail- 
 ure of the attack, said: "We could do nothing; they had 
 their Sainte Genevieve with them," giving her the name the 
 fish-wives applied to her as the carriage entered Paris on the 
 fatal 5th of October, the last day of the Trench monarchy. 
 
 It was on the day following this 20th of June, that Louis 
 XVI. wrote to his confessor : " Come and see me this even- 
 ing, I have done with men ; I can now concern myself only 
 with heaven." 
 
 In spite of the vast emigration of nobles and gentlemen 
 who abandoned their country and their king from the 
 time of the first revolutionary alarms in 1789, — which has 
 been, perhaps, too much condoned by history in view of 
 their great misfortunes, — a few faithful men remained iu 
 Paris after June 20th, resolved to save the king and his 
 family if it were still possible. They knew that the attack 
 of June 20th was an organized blow, missed for the moment, 
 but certain to be repeated. As early as the morning of the 
 
1792] MADAME l^LISABETH DE FRANCE. 29 
 
 7th of August they had precise information as to what was 
 to happen on the 10th, and they formed a definite plan for 
 the rescue of the royal family. Malouet, in his " Memoirs 
 of the Constituent Assembly," of which he was a member, 
 gives a clear account of this. 
 
 Even the Constitutional party, alarmed at the rapidity 
 with which the Revolution was rushing towards anarchy, 
 was ready to rally to the king, and would have supported 
 any action that removed him from Paris and placed him 
 with the army ; it was even proposed among them to bring 
 a division under General de la Fayette to Compifegne to 
 favour the escape of the royal family. This plan, conceived 
 as early as May, 1792, failed, owing to the king's incurable 
 distrust of the constitutionals and his remembrance that to 
 them he owed the failure at Varennes. Malouet says : — 
 
 " M. de la Fayette, who now judged the state of things 
 more soundly than he did at the begimiing of the Eevolution, 
 was sincere in his desire to devote himself to the king and 
 the Constitution, after having contributed to put them in 
 great peril. He was sure of his army and that of his 
 colleague Luckner, if the king decided to put himself at 
 their head. He came to Paris in May to make the proposal, 
 and as he knew the king had confidence in. me he asked me 
 to meet him." 
 
 Louis XVI. rejected this proposal, and Malouet adds: 
 " Whatever were the desires, the hopes of the royal family, 
 nothing justifies the imprudence of the king in isolating 
 himself without defence in the midst of his enemies, and in 
 not being willing, or not knowing how, to rally to himself 
 a national party. . . . Can it be believed that the king, 
 whose judgment was accurate, that the queen, who did not 
 lack enlightenment or courage, that Madame Elisabeth, who 
 had much of both, should have willingly reduced themselves 
 
30 LIFE AND LETTEES OF [chap. i. 
 
 in the midst of the greatest dangers to complete inaction ? 
 ... I do not doubt that the security and hopes of the 
 queen and Madame f^lisabeth fastened themselves on help 
 from the foreign Powers, which the king never invited ex- 
 cept with much circumspection and always in hopes of avert- 
 ing a national war. These tentatives were as inconsequent 
 as all else that he did. There was nothing precise, nothing 
 complete in his plan ; the secret powers given to the Baron 
 de Breteuil were only contingent; more vague than un- 
 limited, they appealed neither to the foreign armies, nor to 
 the great body of emigres assembled on the frontier; they 
 simply tended to the mediation of the allies of France." 
 
 Meantime the crisis was approaching. The 5th of 
 October and the 20th of June foretold it; on the 10th of 
 August it came. There is comfort in feeling that a few 
 generous hearts remained in Paris watching for a chance 
 to save the royal family even at the last moment. Malouet 
 was one of them, and he thus tells of their final effort, their 
 forlorn hope : — 
 
 " M. de Lally [Tollendal]," he says, " came frequently to 
 our meetings at the house of M. de Montmorin with MM. 
 de Malesherbes, Clermont-Tonnerre, Bertrand, la Tour-du- 
 Pin, Sainte-Croix, and Gouverneur Morris, envoy of the 
 United States, for whom the king had a liking, and who 
 gave His Majesty (but as uselessly as the rest of us) the 
 most vigorous advice. It was on the 7th of August that we 
 dined together for the last time. Our conference had for its 
 object to attempt a fresh effort to carry off, by means of the 
 Swiss Guard, the royal family and take them to Pontoise. 
 Being fully warned in detail of all the preparations for the 
 10th of August, we had been assembled in consultation ever 
 since the morning at M. de Montmorin's. He had written 
 to the king informing him of everything, and saying that 
 
1792] MADAME :fcLISABETH DE FRANCE. 31 
 
 now there could be no holding back; that we should be 
 the next morning before daylight, to the number of seventy, 
 at the royal stables, where the order must be given to have 
 saddle-horses ready for us ; that the National Guard of the 
 Tuileries, commanded by Acloque, would aid our expedition ; 
 that four companies of the Swiss Guard would start at the 
 same hour from Courbevoie and come to meet the king ; that 
 we ourselves should escort him to the Champs-Ely s^es and 
 put him in a carriage with his family. The bearer of the 
 letter came back without reply. M. de Montmorin went at 
 once to the king. Madame Elisabeth informed him that the 
 insurrection would not take place ; that Santerre and Potion 
 had pledged themselves to that ; that they had received 
 seven hundred and fifty thousand francs to prevent it and 
 to bring the Marseillais over to the king's side. The king 
 was none the less anxious and agitated, though fully de- 
 cided not to leave Paris. . . . He said he preferred to ex- 
 pose himself to all dangers than begin civil war." 
 
 This is not the place to relate the public events of those 
 days, so well known, with their causes and actors, to history ; 
 suffice it to say that the plan which miscarried June 20th 
 was carried out on the 10th of August, when the king was 
 persuaded, against the will of his wife and sister, to seek 
 refuge in the National Assembly, while the Swiss Guard, 
 believing he was still in the palace, fought to defend him 
 and were butchered to a man. "Nail me to that wall," 
 said Marie-Antoinette, "if I consent to go." 
 
 But before this day Madame Elisabeth had abandoned 
 hope ; she no longer sought to arm the king with courage ; 
 the lines of her face, and the look from her eyes now said, 
 " Eesignation," and such was her history from that moment. 
 Her last letter bore date August 8, 1792, — two days before 
 the fatal 10th ; in it she spoke of the " death of the execu- 
 
32 LIFE AND LETTEES OF [chap. i. 
 
 tive power," adding, " I can enter into no details." The last 
 glimpse we have of her as a comparatively free woman on her 
 way through the Tuileries to the National Assembly, is given 
 by M. de La Eochef oucauld, in his unpublished Memoirs : — 
 
 " They issued," he says, " by the centre door [of the Tuile- 
 ries]. M. de Bachmann, major of the Swiss Guard, came first 
 through two ranks of his soldiers. M. de Poix followed him 
 at a little distance, walking immediately before the king. 
 The queen followed the king, leading the dauphin by the 
 hand. Madame Elisabeth gave her arm to Madame the king's 
 daughter ; the Princesse de Lamballe and Mme. de Tourzel 
 followed. I was in the garden, near enough to offer my arm 
 to Madame de Lamballe, who was the most dejected and 
 frightened of the party ; she took it. The king walked erect ; 
 his countenance was composed, but sorrow was painted on his 
 face. The queen was in tears ; from time to time she wiped 
 them and strove to take a confident air, which she kept for 
 a while ; nevertheless, having had her for a moment on my 
 arm, I felt her tremble. The dauphin did not seem much 
 frightened. Madame Elisabeth was calm, resigned to all; 
 it was religion that inspired her. She said to me, looking at 
 the ferocious populace : ' All those people are misguided ; I 
 wish their conversion, but not their punishment.' The little 
 Madame wept softly. Madame de Lamballe said to me, 
 * We shall never return to the Chateau.' " 
 
 The Tower of the Temple, that historical purgatory of the 
 royalty of France, is now to be the last scene and witness of 
 the virtues of Madame Elisabeth ; and it is also to witness a 
 transformation in the character of its chief captive. Louis 
 XVI., no longer feeble and irresolute, blundering and inert, 
 becomes a patient, tranquil man, brave unto death, with 
 charity to all, a true Christian, the innocent expiator of the 
 crimes and faults of other reigns. 
 
1786] MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE. 33 
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 Letters of Madame Elisabeth to the Marquise de Bombelles, the Marquise 
 de Raigecourt, the Abbe de Lubersac, and others, from 1786 to August 
 8th, 1792. 
 
 To the Marquise de Bombelles. 
 
 September, 1786. 
 I possess ill the world two friends, and they are both far 
 away from me. That is too painful ; one of you must posi- 
 tively return. If you do not return, I shall go to Saint-Cyr 
 without you, and I shall still further avenge myself by mar- 
 rying our 'protegee without you. My heart is full of the hap- 
 piness of that poor girl who weeps with joy — and you not 
 there ! I have visited two other poor families without you. 
 I pray to God without you. But I pray for you, for you need 
 his grace, and I have need that he should touch you — you 
 who abandon me ! I do not know how it is, but I love you, 
 nevertheless, tenderly. Elisabeth-Marie. 
 
 November 27, 1786. 
 You see that I obey you, my child, for here I am again. 
 You spoil me ; you write to me punctually ; that gives me 
 pleasure, but I am afraid it may give you a headache. I 
 preach against my interests, for I am very happy when I see 
 yom- handwriting ; I love you, but I love your health better 
 than all. You say that Fontainebleau has not spoilt me ; I 
 like to believe it. Perhaps you will think that rather vain- 
 glorious, but I assure you, my heart \mon cceur], that I am 
 very far from thinking I can remain good ; I feel I have very 
 much to do to be good according to God. The world judges 
 
 3 
 
34 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii. 
 
 lightly ; on a mere nothing it gives us a good or a bad repu- 
 tation. Not so with God ; he judges us internally ; and the 
 more the outward imposes, the sterner he will be to the in- 
 ward. ... I have been at Montreuil siuce nine o'clock, the 
 weather is charming. I have walked about with Eaigecourt 
 for an hour and three-quarters. Mme. Albert de Eioms is 
 coming to dine with me, so that my letter cannot be long. 
 
 March 15, 1787. 
 
 You ask me, my friend, how I pass my time ; I shall an- 
 swer : Eather sadly, because I see many things that grieve 
 me. The famous Assembly of Notables has met. What will 
 it do ? Nothing, except make known to the people the criti- 
 cal situation in which we are. The king is sincere in asking 
 their advice. Will they be the same in giving it ? I think 
 not. I have little experience, and the tender interest I take 
 in my brother alone induces me to concern myself with these 
 subjects, much too serious for my nature. I do not know, 
 but it seems to me they are taking a course directly the op- 
 posite of that they ought to take. ... I have a presenti- 
 ment that all will turn out ill. As for me, if it were not for 
 my attachment to the king I would retire to Saint-Cyr. In- 
 trigues fatigue me; they are not in accordance with my 
 nature. I like peace and repose ; but it is not at the mo- 
 ment when my brother is unfortunate that I will separate 
 from him. 
 
 The queen is very pensive. Sometimes we are hours to- 
 gether alone without her saying a word. She seems to fear 
 me. Ah ! who can take a keener interest than I in my 
 brother's happiness ? 
 
 April 9, 1787. 
 
 M. de Calonne was dismissed yesterday ; his malversation 
 was so proved that the king decided upon it ; I do not fear 
 
1787] MADAME ifcLISABETH DE FRANCE. 35 
 
 to tell you the extreme joy I feel, which is shared by every 
 one. He is ordered to remain at Versailles until his suc- 
 cessor is appointed, so as to render him an account of affairs 
 and of his projects. One of my friends said to me some 
 time ago that I did not like him, but that I should change 
 my opmion before long. I don't know if his dismissal will 
 contribute to that ; he would have to do a good many things 
 before I could change in regard to him. He must feel a 
 little anxious about his fate. They say his friends put a 
 good face upon it ; but I believe the devil loses nothmg and 
 that they are far from being satisfied. It was M. de Mont- 
 morm who gave him his dismissal. I hoped the Baron de 
 Breteuil would not take that upon himself; it does him 
 honour not to have done so.^ 
 
 The Assembly continues as before and with the same 
 plans. The Notables talk with more freedom (though they 
 have never cramped themselves in that), and I hope good 
 may come of it. My brother has such good intentions, he 
 desires the right so much and to make his people happy, he 
 has kept himself so pure, that it is impossible God should 
 not bless his good qualities with great successes. He did his 
 Easter duties to-day. God will encourage him, God will 
 show him the right way : I hope much. The preacher in his 
 address encouraged him immensely to take counsel of his 
 own heart. He was right, for my brother is very good and 
 very superior to the whole Court united. 
 
 1 The Baron de Breteuil, then minister of the king's household and of the 
 department of Paris, had been the representative of the king towards the 
 Elector of Cologne, Catherine II., Empress of Eussia, Gustavus III., Kmg 
 of Sweden, and the Emperors Joseph II. and Leopold. In the various 
 phases of his career he had won the esteem of all honourable men. — Fr. Ed. 
 
 He was later sent by Louis XVI. to negotiate measures with all the 
 European Powers for the rescue of the king and his family and the restora- 
 tion of the monarchy. See Diary and Corr. of Count Fersen, of the 
 present Hist. Series. — Tr. 
 
36 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii. 
 
 I am at Montreuil since midday. I have been to vespers 
 in the parish church. They were quite as long as they were 
 last year, and your dear vicar sang the filii in a manner 
 quite as agreeable. Des Escars expected to burst out laugh- 
 ing, and I the same. 
 
 I am in despair at the sacrifice you make me of your mon- 
 key, and all the more because I cannot keep it"; my Aunt 
 Victoire has a dread of those animals and would be angry if 
 I had one. So, my heart, in spite of all its graces and of the 
 hand that gives it to me, I must relinquish it. If you like, 
 I will send it back to you ; if not, I will give it to M. de 
 Gu^mdn^e. I am in despair, I feel it is very churlish, that 
 it will vex you very much, and so I am all the more sorry. 
 What consoles me is that you would have had to get rid of 
 it soon on account of your children, because it might become 
 dangerous. 
 
 Your philosophy enchants me, my heart; you will be 
 happier, and you know how I desired you to be that. I do 
 
 not understand why you say that M. de C [Mar^chal de 
 
 Castries] is a bad politician ; they seem to me well satisfied 
 with him ; he has done rather fine things, and M. de S^gur 
 has just committed the most egregious blunder in accom- 
 panying the Empress Catherine on her journey to the Crimea. 
 She is terribly restless, that good lady, which displeases me 
 much. I am a partisan of repose.^ 
 
 June 25, 1787. 
 The queen is very kind to me just now; we are going 
 together to Saint-Cyr, which she calls my cradle. She calls 
 Montreuil my little Trianon. I have been to hers the last 
 few days with her, without any consequences, and there was 
 no attention she did not show me. She prepared for me one 
 
 1 See the account of this journey in the Memoirs of the Prince de Ligne 
 vol. V. of this Hist. Series. — Tr. 
 
1788] MADAME lELISABETH DE FEAl^CE. 37 
 
 of those surprises in which she excels ; but what we did most 
 was to weep over the death of my poor little niece [Madame 
 Sophie de France, daughter of Louis XVI., who died an 
 infant]. . . . 
 
 I am in a state of enchantment at the enormous gratuity 
 they have given you. I am afraid the king will ruin himself 
 with such liberalities. If I were your husband I would leave 
 it with M. d'Harvelay to prove to M. de Vergennes that you 
 demand more because you have an actual need of it; let 
 him see it is to pay your debts for the embassy, and that as 
 he gives you so little on account, when you get more you will 
 have to employ it in the same way. I began by reading 
 M. de Vergennes' letter first, thinking I was to see superb 
 things, and I was rather shocked. However, after reflecting 
 upon it well, I believe it is not ill-will on his part, but being 
 obliged to give gratuities for the fetes, he is hampered and is 
 forced to diminish this one. 
 
 Adieu, my heart. I hope your medicine will do you good. 
 Try to calm yourself. 
 
 June 6, 1788. 
 
 The king returns upon his steps, just as our grandfather 
 did. ... It seems to me that government is like education. 
 We should not say I will until we are sure of being right. 
 But once said, there should be no yielding of what has been 
 ordained. 
 
 I think that my sister-in-law would act thus ; but she does 
 not yet know the soul of my brother, who fears always to 
 make a mistake, and who, his first impulse over, is tormented 
 by the dread of doing injustice. You will see that the parlia- 
 ment will be recalled within six months, and with it Necker 
 and the States-General ; that is an evil we shall not escape, 
 and I wish they had been convoked a year ago that we might 
 have them over and done with. Instead of that everybody 
 
38 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii. 
 
 wrangles and all are getting embittered. Wliat the king 
 does from clemency they will say he does from fear, for they 
 will not do him the justice he deserves. As for me, who 
 read his heart, I know well that all his thoughts are for 
 the welfare of his people. But he would make that more 
 sure by isolating himself less from his nobles. He is advised 
 to the contrary. God grant he may never repent it ! I dare 
 not speak to him openly about many things that I see and that 
 he does not suspect because his soul is so fine that intrigue 
 is foreign to it. Ah ! why cannot I get away and live as I 
 like! 
 
 To Mile, Marie de Causans} 
 
 March, 1789. 
 
 Yes, certainly, my heart, I will write to you before you 
 enter the novitiate ; but I hope that you will not be forbidden 
 to receive letters afterwards. It is true that we shall be 
 hampered by the inspection of a mistress, but that will not 
 prevent me from saying to you what I think. You will per- 
 haps be astonished, my heart, when I tell you that in spite 
 of all the reflections, consultations, and tests that you have 
 made, I am not yet sufficiently convinced of the solidity 
 and reality of your vocation to escape a fear that you have 
 not reflected duly. In the flrst place, my heart, we cannot 
 know whether a vocation is really the work of God until, 
 with a desire to follow his will, we have nevertheless com- 
 bated, in good faith, the inclination which leads us to con- 
 secrate ourselves to him; otherwise, we run the risk of 
 deceiving ourselves, and of following a transient fervour that 
 is often only a need of the heart which, having no objects of 
 attachment, thinks to save itself from the danger of forming 
 
 1 The third daughter of Mme. de Causans, and next younger sister of 
 Mme. de Kaigecourt. The Revolution, which broke up the convents, 
 prevented her from becoming a nun. — Tk, 
 
1789] MADAME ifeLISABETH DE FEANCE. 39 
 
 any that Heaven may disapprove by consecrating itself to 
 God. That motive is praiseworthy, but it is not sufficient; 
 it comes from passion, it comes from the desire and need of 
 the heart to form a tie which shall fill it, for the moment, 
 wholly. But, I ask you, my heart, will God approve of that 
 offering ? can he be touched by the sacrifice of a soul that 
 gives itself to him only to rid itself of responsibility ? You 
 know that in order to make any vow of any kind we must 
 have a free, reflecting will, devoid of all species of passion ; 
 it is the same in making the religious vows, and even more 
 essential. The world is odious to you ; but is that disgust 
 or regret ? Do not think that if it is the latter your vocation 
 is true or natural. No, my heart, Heaven sent you a tempta- 
 tion ; you ought to bear it, and not take a resolution to con- 
 secrate yourself to God until it has passed. 
 
 Secondly, my heart, we must have our minds humbled 
 before taking the engagements you wish to take. This is 
 the essential thing, the true vocation. All that concerns the 
 body costs little, one can get used to that ; but not so with 
 all that belongs to the mind and heart. . . . 
 
 If d'Ampurie [her younger sister] is not married within 
 three years, and is obliged to go to her Chapter, can you 
 trust to her eighteen years and believe that she will always 
 lead a virtuous and decorous life, that she will never need 
 the counsel of a friend, of a sister who stands in place of her 
 mother, and for whom she has all the feelings of a daughter ? 
 Do you think that in abandoning her to herself you fulfil 
 the most sacred duty you have ever had to fulfil, — that to a 
 dying mother who relied upon you, who chose you as the 
 one most fitted to replace her, a mother who would certainly 
 not have abandoned her children to the seductions of the 
 world that she might yield to a taste for retreat and devotion 
 which she would never have thought incumbent upon her ? 
 
40 LITE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii. 
 
 No, my heart, it will be impossible for me to think that 
 you fulfil your duty, that you accomplish the will of God by 
 consecrating yourself to him a^this time. In the name of 
 that God you seek to serve in the most perfect manner, con- 
 sult with others once more; but, my heart, let it be with 
 more enlightened persons, persons who have no interests 
 either for or against the course you wish to take ; explain to 
 them your position ; let yourself be examined in good faith ; 
 you would be as wrong to exaggerate your desire as to 
 conceal it. . . . 
 
 Eeassure me, my heart, by telling me the tests to which you 
 have put yourself. I do not speak of those of the body; 
 those are absolutely null to me because they belong to mere 
 habits ; but have you struggled against your vocation ? have 
 you felt perfectly calm and free from all pains of mind ? are 
 you sure it is not from excitement that you give yourself to 
 God? . . . Do not suppose, my heart, that a convent is 
 exempt from evils in the eyes of a nun ; the more perfect she 
 may be, the more she will want to find the same sentiments 
 in others, and you will not be safe from that temptation, 
 for, I admit, it is one. There are very few convents in 
 which charity reigns sufficiently for that fault to be un- 
 known there. 
 
 Nevertheless, my heart, in whatever position you find 
 yourself, rely upon my friendship and the keen interest that 
 I feel in you, and speak to me with confidence of all that 
 touches you. I dare to say that I deserve it, because of the 
 true feelings that I have for you, and the tender interest 
 inspired in me by all the children of your honoured and 
 loving mother. I kiss you and love you with all my heart. 
 I ask of you the favour not to be satisfied by reading my 
 letter once. 
 
1789] MADAME l&LISABETH DE FRANCE. 41 
 
 To the Marquise de Bomhelles. 
 
 May 29, 1789. 
 
 My heart is so full of the king's troubles that I cannot 
 write to you of other things. All goes worse than ever. 
 The king alone seems satisfied with the turn that things are 
 taking. Few sovereigns in his place would be ; but he has 
 about it all a manner of seeing which is too lucky for him. 
 The deputies, victims of their passions, of their weakness, or 
 of seduction, are rushing to their ruin, and that of the throne 
 and the whole kingdom. If at this moment the king has 
 not the necessary sternness to cut off at least three heads, all 
 is lost. 
 
 I do not ask you to return ; you might find the roads all 
 bloody. As for me, I have sworn not to leave my brother, 
 and I shall keep my oath. 
 
 Versailles, July 15, 1789. 
 How kind you are, my heart ! All the dreadful news 
 of yesterday [storming and destruction of the Bastille by 
 the populace] did not make me weep, but your letter, bring- 
 ing consolation into my heart through the friendship you 
 show me, made me shed many tears. It will be sad for me 
 to go without you. I do not know if the king will leave 
 Versailles. I will do what you wish if there is a question of 
 it. I do not know what I desire as to that. God knows the 
 best course to take. We have a pious man at the head of 
 the Council [Baron de Breteuil] and perhaps he will en- 
 lighten it. Pray much, my heart ; spare yourself, take care 
 of yourself, do not trouble your milk. You would do wrong 
 I think, to go out ; therefore, my dear, I make the sacrifice 
 of seeing you. Be convinced of how much it costs my heart. 
 I love you, dear, more than I can tell. At all times, in all 
 moments I shall think the same. 
 
42 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii. 
 
 I hope the evil is not as great as they think it. What 
 makes me believe this is the calmness at Versailles. It was 
 not very certain yesterday that M. de Lamiay was hanged ; 
 they had mistaken another man for him in the course of the 
 day. I will attach myself, as you advise, to the chariot of 
 Monsieur, but I think its wheels are worthless. I don't 
 know why it is, but I am always ready to hope. Do not 
 imitate me ; it is better to fear without reason than to hope 
 without it ; the moment when the eyes open is less painful. 
 
 Paris, October 8, 1789. 
 My date alone will tell you to what a point our misfortunes 
 have come. We have left the cradle of our childhood — 
 what am I saying ? left ! we were torn from it. What a jour- 
 ney ! what sights ! Never, never will they be effaced from 
 my memory. . . . What is certain is that we are prisoners 
 here ; my brother does not believe it, but time will prove it to 
 him. Our friends are here ; they think as I do that we are 
 lost. 
 
 To the Abbe de Zubersac. 
 
 October 16, 1789. 
 
 I cannot resist, monsieur, the desire to give you news of 
 me. I know the interest that you are kind enough to feel, 
 and I doubt not it will bring me help. Believe that in the 
 midst of the trouble and horror that pursued us I thought of 
 you, of the pain you would feel, and the sight of your hand- 
 writing has brought me consolation. Ah ! monsieur, what 
 days were those of Monday and Tuesday [5th and 6th of 
 October] ! But they ended better than the cruelties that 
 took place during the night could have made us expect. As 
 soon as we entered Paris we began to feel hope in spite of 
 the dreadful cries that we heard. But those of the people 
 who surrounded our carriage were better. The queen, who 
 
1789] MADAME i^LISABETH DE FRANCE. 43 
 
 has incredible courage, begins to be better liked by the 
 people. I hope that with time and steadily sustained con- 
 duet we may recover the affection of the Parisians, who have 
 only been misled. 
 
 But the men of Versailles, monsieur ! Did you ever know 
 a more frightful ingratitude ? No, I think that God in his 
 anger has peopled that town with monsters from hell. How 
 much time will be needed to make them conscious of their 
 crimes ! If I were king, I should need much to make me 
 believe in. their repentance. How ungrateful to an honest 
 man ! "Will you believe, monsieur, that our misfortunes, far 
 from bringing me to God, give me a positive disgust for all 
 that is prayer. Ask of Heaven for me the grace not to aban- 
 don it wholly. I ask of you this favour ; and also, preach to 
 me a little, I beg of you ; you know the confidence that I 
 have in you. Pray also that all the reverses of France 
 may bring back to their better selves those who have con- 
 tributed to them by their irreligion. Adieu, monsieur; 
 believe in the esteem I have for you, and the regret I feel at 
 your being so far away from me. 
 
 To the Marquise de Bomhelles. 
 
 December 8, 1789. 
 
 I am very glad. Mademoiselle Bombelinette, that you 
 have received my letter, as it gives you pleasure, and I am 
 angry with it for being so long on the way. You have no 
 idea what an uproar there has been to-day at the Assembly. 
 We heard the shouts in passing along the terrace of the 
 Feuillants. It was horrible. They wanted to rescind a 
 decree passed Saturday ; I hope they will not do it, for the 
 decree seems to me very reasonable. You will see it all in 
 the newspapers, 
 
 I have not made it a point of courage to refrain from 
 
44 LIFE AND LETTEES OF [chap. ii. 
 
 speaking to you of Montreuil. You judge me, my heart, too 
 favourably. Apparently I was not thinking of it when I 
 wrote to you. I often have news of it. Jacques comes daily 
 to bring my cream. Fleury, Coupry, Marie, and Mme. du 
 Coudray come to see me from time to time. They all seem 
 to love me still ; and M. Huret — I forgot him — is not very 
 bad. Now, about the house. The salon was being furnished 
 when I left it; it promised to be very pleasant. Jacques 
 is in his new lodging. Mme. Jacques is pregnant ; so are 
 all my cows ; a calf has Just been born. The hens I will 
 not say much about, because I have rather neglected to 
 inquire for them. I don't know if you saw my little cabi- 
 net after it was finished. It is very pretty. My library 
 is almost finished.^ As for the chapel, Corille is working 
 there all alone ; you can imagine how fast it goes on ! It 
 is out of charity to him that I let him continue to put on 
 a little plaster ; as he is quite alone it cannot be called an 
 expense. I am grieved not to go there as you can easily 
 believe ; but horses are to me a still greater privation. 
 However, I think as little as I can about it ; though I feel 
 that as my blood grows calmer, that particular privation 
 makes itself more and more felt ; but I shall have all the 
 more pleasure when I can satisfy that taste. 
 
 And that poor Saint-Cyr, ah ! how unfortunate it is ! Do 
 you remember Croisard, the son of my sister's wardrobe 
 woman? Well, he is to-day attached to my steps in the 
 quality of captain of the guard. I say attached, because 
 the guards never quit us more than the shadow of our 
 bodies. You need not think it annoys me. As my move- 
 ments are not varied, I do not care. After all, I can walk 
 in the garden as much as I like. To-day I walked a full 
 
 hour. 
 
 1 See Appendix. 
 
1790] MADAME [ELISABETH DE EEANCE 45 
 
 February 20, 1790. 
 
 You will only have a line from me to-day, my poor 
 Bombe ; I was told too late of an opportunity, and besides, 
 my head and heart are so full of what happened yesterday 
 that I have no possibility of thinking of anything else. 
 Poor M. de Favras was hanged yesterday. I hope that his 
 blood may not fall back upon his judges. No one (except 
 the populace, and that class of beings to whom we must 
 not give the name of men — it would be to degrade human- 
 ity) understands why he was condemned. He had the 
 imprudence to wish to serve his king ; that was his crime. 
 I hope that this unjust execution will have the effect of 
 persecutions, and that from his ashes will arise men who still 
 love their country, and will avenge it on the traitors who 
 are deceiving it. I hope also that Heaven, in favour of 
 the courage he showed during the four hours he was kept 
 at the H6tel-de-Ville before his execution [when he was 
 tortured and insulted], will have pardoned him his sins. 
 Pray to God for him, my heart; you cannot do a better 
 work. 
 
 The Assembly is still the same ; the monsters are the 
 masters. The king — can you believe it ? — is not to have 
 the necessary executive power to keep him from being 
 absolutely null in his kingdom. For the last four days 
 they have discussed a law to pacify the disturbances, but 
 they have not ceased to busy themselves about other things 
 far less essential to the happiness of men. Well, God will 
 reward the good in heaven, and punish those who deceive 
 the people. The king, and others, from the integrity of 
 their own natures, cannot bring themselves to see the evil 
 such as it is. 
 
 Adieu, my little one; I am well; I love you much; be 
 the same, for love of your princess, and let us hope for 
 
46 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii. 
 
 happier days. Ah ! how we shall enjoy them. I kiss your 
 little children with all my heart. 
 
 You know the rules just made for monks and nuns. Say 
 nothing to any one, but I think many men, and even nuns 
 will leave their convents. I hope that Saint-Cyr will 
 undergo no change ; but its fate is not yet decided. 
 
 March 1, 1790. 
 
 Since the king has taken that step [his appearance before 
 the Constituent Assembly Feb. 4, 1790], a step which puts 
 him, they say, at the head of the Eevolution, and which, to 
 my mind, takes from him the remains of the crown that he 
 still had, the Assembly has not once thought of doing any- 
 thing for him. Madness follows madness, and good will 
 certainly never come of it. . . . If we had known how to 
 profit by occasions, believe me, we could have done well. 
 But it was necessary to have firmness, it was necessary to 
 face danger; we should have come out conquerors. ... I 
 consider civil war as necessary. In the first place, I think 
 it already exists ; because, every time a kingdom is divided 
 into two parties, every time the weaker party can only save 
 its life by letting itself be despoiled, it is impossible, I think, 
 not to call that civil war. Moreover, anarchy never can end 
 without it ; the longer it is delayed, the more blood will be 
 shed. That is my principle ; and if I were king it would be 
 my guide ; and perhaps it would avert great evils. But as, God 
 be thanked, I do not govern, I content myself, while approv- 
 ing my brother's projects, with telling him incessantly that 
 he cannot be too cautious and that he ought to risk nothing. 
 
 I am not surprised that the step he took on the 4th of Feb- 
 ruary has done him great harm in the eyes of foreigners. I 
 hope, nevertheless, that it has not discouraged our allies, and 
 that they will at last take pity on us. Our stay here is a 
 
1790] MADAME ]feLISABETH DE FRANCE. 47 
 
 great injury to our prospects. I would give all the world to 
 
 "be out of Paris. It will be very difficult, but still, I hope it 
 
 may coiae about. Though I thought for a moment that we 
 
 did right in coming to Paris, I have long changed my mind. 
 
 If we had known, my heart, how to profit by that moment, 
 
 be sure that we could then have done great good. But it 
 
 needed firmness, it needed not to fear that the provinces 
 
 would rise against the capital; it needed that we should 
 
 face dangers; had we done so, we should have issued 
 
 victors. 
 
 May 18, 1790. 
 
 You will have seen by the public papers, my dear child, 
 that there has been some question of your husband in the 
 Assembly, but you will also have seen that they would not 
 even listen to M. de Lameth. So, my heart, you need not 
 be uneasy. Some one said, apropos of M. de Lameth's 
 speech, that he apparently feared that your husband would 
 make Venice aristocratic, and so, wanted to get him away. 
 I thought that charming. Your mother, who assuredly is 
 not cold as to your interests, is not at all troubled by what 
 took place. Therefore, my heart, let the storm growl, and do 
 not worry. 
 
 At last we are let out of our den. The king is to ride out 
 on horseback to-day for the third time ; and I have been out 
 once. I was not very tired, and I hope to go again on Fri- 
 day. I am going this morning to Bellevue. I want to see 
 an English garden and I am going for that. During that 
 time the Assembly will probably be busy in taking from the 
 king the right to wear his crown, which is about all that is 
 left to him. 
 
 June 27, 1790. 
 
 It is long since I have written to you, my little Bombeli- 
 nette ; so I do it to-night in advance, not to be taken short 
 
48 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii. 
 
 by the post, which often happens to those who have a taste 
 for sacred idleness. I shall not talk to you about the decrees 
 that are issued daily, not even of the one put forth on a cer- 
 tain Saturday [abolition of titles of nobility]. It does not 
 grieve the persons it attacks, but it does afflict the malevolent 
 and those who issued it, because in all societies it has been 
 made a subject of much diversion. As for me, I expect to 
 call myself Mademoiselle Capet, or Hugues, or Eobert, for 
 I don't think I shall be allowed to take my real name, — de 
 France. All this amuses me much, and if those gentlemen 
 would issue only such decrees as that, I would add love to 
 the profound respect I already feel for them. 
 
 You will think my style a little frivolous, considering the 
 circumstances, but as there is no counter-revolution in it, I 
 can be forgiven. Far from thinking of counter-revolutions 
 we are about to rejoice (two weeks hence) with all the mili- 
 tia of the kingdom and celebrate the famous days of July 14 
 and 15, of which you may perhaps have heard. They are 
 making ready the Champs de Mars, which can contain, they 
 say, six hundred thousand souls. I hope for their health 
 and mine, that it will not be as hot as it is this week, other- 
 wise, with the liking that I have for heat, I believe I should 
 explode. Pardon this nonsense ; but I was so suffocated 
 last week, at the review and in my own little room, that 
 I am still dazed. Besides, one must laugh a little, it does 
 one good. Mme. d'Aumale always told me, when I was a 
 child, to laugh, because it dilated the lungs. 
 
 I finish my letter at Saint-Cloud ; here I am, established 
 in the garden, with my desk and a book in my hand, 
 and here I get patience and strength for the rest that I 
 have to do. Adieu; I love and kiss you with all my 
 heart. Have you weaned your little monster, and how are 
 you? 
 
1790] MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE. 49 
 
 July 10, 1790. 
 
 I received your letter by the gentleman who has re- 
 turned to Venice, but too late to answer it by him. We 
 touch, my dear child, as the song says, the crucial moment 
 of the Federation. It will take place Wednesday, and I 
 am convinced that nothing very grievous will happen. 
 The Due d'Orl^ans is not yet here ; perhaps he will come 
 to-night or to-morrow; perhaps he will not come at all. 
 I am of opinion that it is of no consequence. He has 
 fallen into such contempt that his presence will cause 
 but little excitement. The Assembly seems decidedly sepa- 
 rated into two parties : that of M. de la Fayette, and that of 
 the Due d'Orl^ans formerly called that of the Lameths. I 
 say this because the public believes it ; but, I myself am of 
 opinion that they are not as ill together as they want it to 
 appear. Whether that is so, or is not so, it seems that 
 M. de la Fayette's party is much the more considerable ; 
 and that ought to be a good thing, because he is less 
 sanguinary, and seems to wish to serve the king by con- 
 solidating the immortal work to which Target gave birth 
 February 4, of this year 90. All the reflections you make 
 on the stay of the king [in Paris] are very just; I have 
 long been convinced of it. But nothing of all that will 
 happen, unless Heaven takes part therein. Pray for that 
 strongly, for we need it much. 
 
 To the Marquise de Baigecourt. 
 
 July 20, 1790. 
 
 Do not come here, my heart; all is calm, but you are 
 better in the country ; I do not need you for the week's ser- 
 vice ; your husband wishes you to stay with your sister-in- 
 law ; therefore as a submissive wife, do not stir. 
 
 Paris was in great disturbance yesterday, but to-night all is 
 
50 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii. 
 
 very quiet. The States-General are still issuing decrees that 
 have not common-sense. I am anxious lest the little line I 
 wrote you may bring you back ; reassure me and tell me you 
 are still at Marseille [the chateau de Marseille in Picardy]. 
 Be at ease about your husband, your brother, and all who 
 are dear to you ; they run no risks, and will run none. Adieu ; 
 I kiss you with all my heart ; I am very tranquil, and you 
 can be so entirely. 
 
 To the Marqidse de Montiers?- 
 
 August 20, 1790. 
 
 I have received your letter, my dear child; it touched 
 me very much ; I have never doubted your feelings for me, 
 but the signs you show of it give me great pleasure. It 
 would have been inj&nitely agreeable to me to have seen you 
 again this autumn, but I feel the position of your husband 
 and I consent strongly to the plan he has formed of spending 
 the winter in foreign countries. I will even own that your 
 position makes me desire it ; this country is tranquil, but 
 from one moment to another it may be so no longer. You 
 are too excitable to allow of your confinement in a place 
 where from day to day an uprising is to be feared; your 
 health could not resist it ; moreover, with your disposition, 
 recovery from confinement would be much more serious. 
 Use all these reflections to aid you, my heart, in making 
 the sacrifice that your husband's fortune and his position 
 oblige you to make. If telling you that I approve of it can 
 
 1 The Marquise des Montiers (Mile, de la Briffe) had grown up from 
 childhood with the princess ; she was gay, vivacious, and full of imagina- 
 tion. Madame ^Elisabeth's letters to her take an almost maternal tone in 
 advising, warning, and directing " my dear Demon," as she often called 
 her. These friends were all Madame Elisabeth's ladies-in-waiting, and all 
 were anxious to return to her in her cruel isolation ; but although she was 
 so dependent herself on friendship she would not,/or their sokes, let them 
 come to her. — Tr. 
 
1790] MADAME IjLISABETH DE FRANCE. 51 
 
 make you bear it better, I shall repeat it to you incessantly. 
 But, my heart, what I cannot repeat to you too often, what I 
 wish could be engraved upon your heart and mind, is that this 
 is a decisive moment for your happiness and your reputation. 
 You are about to be trusted to yourself in a foreign country, 
 where you can receive no coimsel but your own. Perhaps 
 you will meet there Parisian men whose reputations are not 
 very good ; it is difficult in a foreign country not to receive 
 one's compatriots, but do so with such prudence and regulate 
 your actions with so much reason that no one can make talk 
 about you. 
 
 Above all, my heart, seek to please your husband. Though 
 you have never spoken to me about him, I know enough of 
 him to know that he has good qualities, though he may also 
 have some that do not please you so well. Make to yourself 
 a law not to dwell upon those, and above all, not to let any 
 one speak of them to you ; you owe this to him, and you owe 
 it to yourself. Try to fix his heart. If you possess it, you 
 will always be happy. Make his house agreeable to him ; 
 let him find in it a wife eager to give him pleasure, 
 interested in her duties and her children, and you will 
 gain his confidence. If you once have that, you can do, 
 with the iatelligence that Heaven has given you and a 
 little skill, all that you wish. But, dear child, above all 
 sanctify your good qualities by loving God; practise your 
 religion; you will find strength in that, a resource in all 
 your troubles, and consolations that it alone can give. 
 Ah! is there a happiness greater than that of beiag well 
 with one's conscience ? Preserve it, that happiness, and 
 you will see that the tortures of life are little, indeed, com- 
 pared to the tortures of those who give themselves up to aU 
 the passions. 
 
 Do not let the piety of your mother-in-law disgust you. 
 
52 LIFE AND LETTERS OP [chap. ii. 
 
 There are persons to whom Heaven has not given the grace 
 of knowing it in its true light ; pray to Heaven to enlighten 
 her. I am glad that your husband sees her defects, but I 
 should be sorry if by jesting or otherwise, you made him re- 
 mark upon them. Forgive, my dear heart, all this prating ; 
 but I love you too well not to say to you that which I think 
 will be useful to your happiness. You tell me with the 
 amiability of which you are so capable, that if you are worth 
 anything in life you owe it to me ; take care, that is encour- 
 aging me to tire you again. 
 
 Adieu, my heart ; write me as often as you have the desire 
 to do so. If you have need to open your heart, open it to 
 me, and believe that you cannot do so to any one who loves 
 you more tenderly than I. 
 
 I am forgetting to reply about M. d'A, Not being able, 
 in view of the present position of my affairs to do anything 
 for him just now, I desire you to tell the person who spoke 
 to you to send you word if he should be in a more critical 
 position ; then, I will do what I possibly can. Say many 
 things from me to your mother-in-law, to whom I will 
 write before long. 
 
 To the Marquise de Baigecourt. 
 
 August 29, 1790. 
 
 Good-morning, my poor Eaigecourt; here we are back at 
 Saint-Cloud to my great satisfaction ; Paris is fine, but in 
 perspective ; here I have the happiness of seeing as much of 
 it as I wish ; indeed, in my little garden I can scarcely see 
 more than the sky. I no longer hear those villanous criers 
 who, of late, not content with standing at the gates of the 
 Tuileries, have roamed the gardens, that no one might fail to 
 hear their infamies. 
 
 For the rest, if you want news of my little health I shall 
 
1790] MADAME ]&LISABETH DE FRANCE. 53 
 
 tell you that I still have torpor in my legs.i StiH, if I may 
 trust the symptoms of that horrid malady, I fancy the cure 
 is at hand. But I have already been mistaken so many 
 times, that I dare not flatter myself much ; in fact, sincerely, 
 I do not believe in it. Perhaps, if I had courage, I might 
 even say I do not desire it ; but you know that I am weak, 
 and that I dread to expose myself to great pain. . . . 
 
 I am very impatient to get news of you, to know you are 
 settled ; I wish I could say happy, but that, I feel, is very 
 difficult [Mme. de Eaigecourt had just lost a little son]. 
 Fortunately, you can give yourself up to devotion. That 
 will be your consolation, your strength. Do not burden 
 your spirit with scruples ; that would insult God who has 
 done you so many favours, and who deserves that you should 
 go to him with the confidence of a child. Make use of the 
 instructions you have received and of your rector's counsels 
 to quiet the over-sensitiveness of your feelings towards God. 
 . . . Yes, your soul is too sensitive: a trifle hurts it; 
 God is more indulgent to his creatures ; he knows our weak- 
 ness, but in spite of it, he wants to crown us with all his 
 favours, and, in return for so much kindness he asks for our 
 confidence and our complete abandonment to his will. Ah ! 
 how, at this present moment do we need to repeat to our- 
 selves that truth ! You will often need to have recourse to 
 him to fortify yourself ; do not therefore put yourself in a 
 position to be deprived of the divine nourishment. This is 
 a real temptation which you ought to fight at its birth ; if 
 you let it make progress you will be very unhappy, you 
 
 1 This expression, and others of the same kind, Madame lllisabeth uses 
 to express her wish that the king would leave Paris, the hopes he gave her 
 of it, and the efforts made to prevent it. Her letters to Madame de Raige- 
 court, who was in France, where correspondence might be dangerous, seem 
 less free than those to Madame de Bombelles, which went probably in the 
 ambassador's bag, or by private hand. — Te. 
 
54 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii. 
 
 will offend God ceaselessly. Here am I preaching like the 
 peasant to his priest ! but when the public news worries me 
 I fling myself into sermonizing. 
 
 October 24, 1790. 
 
 I have just received your second letter. Make ready to 
 receive a reproach in my style. Tell me why you think 
 yourself obliged to be always in violent states ? That is 
 bad judgment, my dear child. You will make yourself ill, 
 and give your child an inevitable tendency towards melan- 
 choly. And why ? because you are not in Paris or at Eaige- 
 court, and because all the stories people tell you seem truths 
 in your eyes. For pity's sake, do not do so. Put into the 
 hands of Providence the fate of those who interest you, and 
 rub your eyes very hard to prevent their seeing black ! ^ 
 
 As for news, I only know that infamous tales are still 
 told of the queen. Among others, they say there is an 
 intrigue with Mir [abeau], and that it is he who advises the 
 king ! My patient [the king] still has stiffness of the legs, 
 and I am afraid it will attack the joints and there will be 
 no cure for it. As for me, I submit myself to the orders of 
 Providence. To each day its own evil. I shall await the 
 last moment to fall into despair, and in that moment I hope 
 I shall do nothing. . . . We are going to-morrow, H. 
 and I, to Saint-Cyr, to feed a little on that celestial food, 
 which does me much good. 
 
 NoTember 3, 1790. 
 
 Well, my poor Eage, are you getting accustomed to the 
 life you lead ? The late master of this place is being perse- 
 cuted by his creditors who will end by killing all his friends 
 
 1 Madame ^fclisabeth had exacted that Mme. de Raigecourt, who was 
 pregnant, should leave Paris, events becoming more and more alarming. 
 Mme. de R. fell into a sort of despair at the separation, and wanted to be 
 allowed to return to Madame ]felisabeth at any cost. — Fr. Ed. 
 
1790] MADAME I:LISABETH DE FRANCE. 55 
 
 with grief. Nothing that happens can decide him to part 
 from his property : offers are made on all sides ; nothing 
 comes of them. What is to be done ? we must pray to 
 Providence to be with him. 
 
 Here we are back in Paris ; if we knew how to profit by 
 it I would not complain ; but, as you know, the chateau of 
 the Tuileries will be our habitual promenade. Well, as God 
 wills ; if I thought of myself only I do not know what I 
 should prefer. Here I am more conveniently placed for my 
 little devotions : but for walks and the gaiety of the place, 
 Saint-Cloud is preferable; and then the neighbourhood of 
 Saint-Cyr. On the other hand, the evenings were very long ; 
 you know I have a horror of lights, or rather they make me 
 so sleepy that I cannot read long at a time. So on the 
 whole I conclude that God arranges all for the best, and 
 that I ought to be very glad to be here. 
 
 December 1, 1790. 
 
 Mon Dieu, my poor Eaigecourt, what extraordinary thing 
 have they been telling you ? I puzzle my head to guess, and 
 cannot do so. Nothing has happened here. We are still in 
 perfect tranquillity, and I cannot conceive what you mean. 
 
 I have made a mistake of twenty-four hours as to the 
 post-day, which is the reason this letter did not go by the 
 last courier. You now know the decree about the clergy, 
 and I can see from here, all that you are saying, all that you 
 are thinking, how you are wringing your arms, and shutting 
 your eyes, and saying, " Ah ! God wills it ; it is well, it is 
 well, we must submit ; " and then you do not submit any 
 more than others. Do not go and think you do because you 
 are so resigned at the first moment ; my Eaigecourt's head 
 will heat; this reflection will agitate her, that fear will 
 torture her ; such a person runs risks, what will happen to 
 
56 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii. 
 
 him ? will they force him to act against his duty and his 
 conscience ? etc., etc. And then, behold my Eaigecourt be- 
 side herself, all the while saying : " My God, I offer you sub- 
 mission." Have the goodness, mademoiselle, not to torture 
 yourself in that way. M. de Condorcet has decided that the 
 Church is not to be persecuted because it would make the 
 clergy interesting ; and that, he says, would do an infinite 
 injury to the Constitution. Therefore, my heart, no martyr- 
 dom, thank G-od, for I own that I have no fancy for that sort 
 of death. 
 
 December 30, 1790. 
 I see persecution coming, being in mortal anguish at the 
 acceptance that the king has just given. God reserved us this 
 blow ; may it be the last, and may he not suffer that schism 
 be established : that is all I ask. But if the days of persecu- 
 tion do return, ah ! I should ask of God to take me from 
 this world, for I do not feel within me the courage to bear 
 them. This acceptance [of the decree against the clergy] 
 was given on Saint Stephen's day ; apparently that blessed 
 martyr is now to be our model. Well, as you know, I am 
 not afraid of stones ; so that suits me. They say that seven 
 of the rectors of Paris have taken the oath. I did not think 
 the number would be so large. All this has a very bad 
 effect on my soul ; far from rendering me devout, it takes 
 away from me all hope that God's anger will be appeased 
 Your rector decides to follow the law of the Gospel and not 
 the one just made. I am told that a member of the Com- 
 mune, wanting to persuade the rector of Sainte-Marguerite, 
 said to him that the esteem felt for him, the preponderance 
 that he had in the world, would do much to restore peace by 
 influencing minds. To which he answered, " Monsieur, the 
 reasons that you give me are the very ones that oblige me to 
 refuse the oath and not act against my conscience." 
 
1791] MADAME IJLISABETH DE FRANCE. 57 
 
 May God not abandon us wholly ; it is to that we must 
 limit our hopes. I have no taste for martyrdom ; but I feel 
 that I should be very glad to have the certainty of suffering 
 it rather than abandon one iota of my faith. I hope that if I 
 am destined to it, Grod will give me strength. He is so good, 
 so good ! he is a Father, so concerned for the true welfare of 
 his children that we ought to have all confidence in him. 
 Were you not touched on the Epiphany with God's goodness 
 in calling the Gentiles to him at that moment ? Well, we 
 are the Gentiles, Let us thank him well ; let us be faithful 
 to our faith ; let us not lose from sight what we owe to him ; 
 and as to all the rest, let us abandon ourselves to him with 
 true filial confidence. 
 
 February 15, 1791. 
 
 I am grieved at the unnecessary fear that M. de B. has 
 caused you. We are still far from all those evils he has put 
 into your head. ... I am sorry to be so far from you and to 
 be unable to talk as I would like to do ; but, my heart, calm 
 yourself. I know that that seems difficult, but it is neces- 
 sary. You excite your blood ; you make yourself more un- 
 happy than you need be : all that, my heart, is not in the 
 order of Providence. We must submit to God's decrees, and 
 that submission must bring calmness. Otherwise, it is on 
 our lips only, not in our heart. When Jesus Christ was be- 
 trayed, abandoned, it was only his heart which suffered from 
 those outrages ; his exterior was calm, and proved that God 
 was really in him. We ought to imitate him, and God ought 
 to be in us. Therefore, calm yourself, submit, and adore in 
 peace the decrees of Providence, without casting your eyes 
 upon a future which is dreadful to whose sees with human 
 eyes alone. Happily, you are not in that case; God has 
 crowned you with so many favours that you will apply your 
 virtue to wait patiently for the end of his wrath. 
 
58 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii. 
 
 As for me, I am not in your condition. I will not say that 
 virtue is the cause of this ; but in the midst of many troubles 
 and anxieties, I am more within reach of consolations ; I am 
 calm, and I hope for a happy eternity. ... As for what you 
 say of me, believe, my heart, that I shall never fail in honour, 
 and that I shall always know how to fulfil the obligations 
 that my priuciples, my position, and my reputation impose 
 upon me. I hope that God will give me the light necessary 
 to guide me wisely, and to keep me from wandering from the 
 path that he marks out for me. But to judge of all that, my 
 heart, others must be near me. From a distance, a chival- 
 rous act appears enchanting ; seen near-by it is often found to 
 be an act of vexation, or of some other feeling not worth 
 more in the eyes of the wise and good. 
 
 March 2, 1791. 
 
 I have received your little letter. I do not think that the 
 person of whom you speak ever had the intention towards 
 others that is attributed to her. She has defects, but I never 
 knew her to have that one. If D. [d'Artois] would break off 
 his alliance with Calonne, by travelling in another direc- 
 tion, that would give pleasure, I am sure. As for me, I de- 
 sire it eagerly for the good of one I love so well, and for 
 whom, I own to you, I dread the intimacy with Calonne. 
 Do not say this to the man you have seen, but you can send 
 word of it under the greatest secrecy, to her whose ideas you 
 approve, even for interested persons ; I cannot myself enter 
 into any explanation with them, and you would do me a 
 kindness to take charge of this. 
 
 March 18, 1791. 
 
 I profit by the departure of M. de Chamisot to tell you 
 many things. I am infinitely uneasy at the course my 
 brother is about to take. I believe that the wise counsels 
 that have been given him are not to be followed. The little 
 
1791] MADAME i^LISABETH DE FRANCE. 59 
 
 unity, the little harmony that there is among the persons 
 who ought to be bound together by an indissoluble tie, make 
 me tremble. I wish I could see in all that only God's will ; 
 but I own to you that I often put self into it. I hope that 
 M. de Eirmont will make me attain, by his counsels, to that 
 necessary point of safety. You will see from this that it is 
 he whom I have chosen to take the place of the Abb^ Madier 
 in my confidence. I confessed yesterday, and I was perfect- 
 ly content with him. He has intelligence, gentleness, a great 
 knowledge of the human heart. I hope to find in him what 
 I have long lacked to enable me to make progress in piety. 
 Thank God for me, my heart, that he has thus, by a peculiar 
 stroke of his providence, led me to M. de Firmont, and ask 
 him to make me faithful in executing the orders he may 
 give me through that organ. 
 
 I have no news to send you from here ; all is much the same. 
 The evil-minded amuse themselves at our expense. France 
 is about to perish. God alone can save it. I hope he wiU. 
 
 Extract from a letter of the Able Edgeworth de Firmont to 
 a friend, published in his Memoirs} 
 
 Though a foreigner, and very little worthy to be distin- 
 guished by the princess, I soon became her friend. She gave 
 me her unlimited confidence, but I was known to neither the 
 king nor the queen. Nevertheless, they often heard me men- 
 tioned, and during the last period of their reign they several 
 times expressed their surprise at the facility with which I was 
 allowed to enter the palace, while around them there was 
 nothing but surveillance and terror. It is a fact that I never 
 saw the danger for what it really was ; and while no other 
 
 1 He was an Irishman, and was recommended to Madame ifclisabeth, for 
 her confessor, by the Superior of Foreign Missions. It was to him that 
 Louis XVI. sent in his last extremity. — Tb. 
 
60 LIFE AND LETTEKS OF [chap. ii. 
 
 ecclesiastic could appear at Court unless completely disguised, 
 I went there in open day, two or three times a week without 
 changing my dress. In truth, when I remember those days 
 of horror I am surprised at my courage, but I suppose that 
 Providence blinded me to danger intentionally. Though my 
 presence excited some murmurs among the guards, I never 
 received the slightest insult from them. I continued thus 
 until the fatal day of the arrest of the royal family. On the 
 9th of August, 1792 — I remember it well ! — Madame 
 Elisabeth desired to see me, and I spent the greater part of 
 the morning in her room, not imagining the scene of horror 
 that was then being prepared for the next day. 
 
 To the Marquise de Baigecourt. 
 
 April 3, 1791. 
 
 Ah ! my heart, you ought not to complain, your pregnancy 
 has brought you great good luck in keeping you away from 
 schism and these awful divisions. ... I ask no better than 
 to be godmother to your little one. If you like, I will give 
 her the name of H^lfene ; and if you will be pleased to give 
 birth to her at one o'clock in the morning of the 3rd of 
 May [her own birthday and hour] it will be very well, pro- 
 vided it gives her a happier future than mine, where she will 
 never hear of States-Generals or schisms. 
 
 Mirabeau has taken the course of going to see in another 
 world if the Eevolution is approved of there. Good God ! 
 what an awakening his will be. They say he saw his rector 
 for an hour. He died tranquilly, believing himself poisoned ; 
 though he had no symptoms of it. They showed him to the 
 people after his death ; many were grieved ; the aristocrats 
 regret him much. For the last three months he had put 
 himself on the right side, and they hoped in his talents. 
 For my part, though very aristocratic, I cannot help regard- 
 
1791] MADAME ifeLISABETH DE FRANCE. 61 
 
 ing his death as a mercy of Providence to this country. I 
 do not believe that it is by men without principles and with- 
 out morals that God intends to save us. I keep this opinion 
 to myself, as it is not policy — but I prefer a thousand times 
 religious policy, and I am sure you will be of my opinion. 
 
 I counted on having the happiness to take the communion 
 on Holy Thursday and at Easter; but circumstances will 
 deprive me of it ; I fear to cause disturbance in the chateau, 
 and have it said that my devotion was imprudent ; a thing 
 that above all others I desire to avoid, because I have always 
 thought it should be a means to make one's self loved. The 
 rumour is spread about Paris that the king is going to-morrow 
 to high-mass in the parish church ; I cannot bring myself to 
 believe it until he has actually been there. All-powerful 
 God ! what just punishment are you reserving for a people 
 so misguided ? 
 
 May 1, 1791. 
 
 I think the reflections you make are perfectly just ; we 
 ought to guard ourselves from extremes in all opinions. I 
 am far from thinking that to be attached to those I love 
 forms an exclusive claim to put them in offices ... I think 
 it needs perfect equality in merit, or some great distinction 
 to give a veritable claim to preference. In all things I want 
 justice alone to guide my choice ; I will even go further and 
 say that I want it to carry the day over any desire I may 
 have to prefer one person to another person, and that friend- 
 ship should yield to it. A disinterested friendship is the only 
 kind that touches me (yours is that, and therefore I can speak 
 thus freely to you). I feel that in my position (of other 
 days) my influence was employed to obtain favours, and I 
 lent myself to it too zealously. 
 
62 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii. 
 
 May 18, 1791. 
 
 I have received your letter ; it gives me great pleasure in 
 spite of its gloom. Believe, my heart, that I am less unhappy 
 than you imagine ; my vivacity sustains me, and in crucial 
 moments God overwhelms me with kindness. I suffered 
 much in Holy Week, but that over, I have calmed myself. 
 . . . The more the moment approaches,^ the more I become, 
 like you, incredulous. Nevertheless the news my brother 
 receives is satisfactory. Every one says that the principalities 
 [German States] are interested for us. I desire it eagerly, 
 perhaps too eagerly. ... It seems to me that our Court is 
 rather badly informed as to the policy of the cabinets of 
 Europe. I do not know if they distrust us, or whether we 
 have flattered ourselves too much. I own to you that if I 
 see the end of this month arrive with no appearance of any- 
 thing, I shall have need of great resignation to the will of 
 God, to bear the thought of passing another summer like that 
 of 1790 ; and all the more because things have grown much 
 worse since then ; religion is weakened, and those who were 
 attached to us have left for other countries where it still 
 exists. What will become of this one, if Heaven be not 
 merciful ! . . . 
 
 We take so few precautions that I believe we shall be here 
 when the first drum beats. If things are managed wisely I 
 do not think there will be much danger ; but up to this mo- 
 ment, I do not see clear to bid farewell to my dear country. 
 Nevertheless, I would not answer that it may not happen 
 some day, when no one thinks of it. Lastic, Tily, S^rent, 
 [her ladies] they will all be gone within a month, forced 
 away by circumstances ; would that I were gone too ! I am 
 
 1 This is evidently an allusion to the approaching effort of the king to 
 leave Paris. The parts omitted are omitted by the French Editor, not 
 by the translator. — Tr. 
 
1791] MADAME IJLISABETH DE FEANCE. 63 
 
 not sustained by your fine zeal ; I feel the need of addressing 
 myself to some one who will shake (as you call it) my soul. 
 I see that, perfect as I thought myself, I should have had to 
 spend at least some centuries in purgatory if Providence had 
 not interfered. Happily it has sent me a confessor gentle 
 without being weak, educated, enlightened, knowing me 
 already better than I do myself, and who will not let me 
 stay in my languor. But it is now, my little one, that I need 
 prayers ; for if I do not profit by this mercy I shall have a 
 terrible account to render. I regret I did not know him 
 earlier, and if I have to leave him soon it will be a great 
 disappointment. 
 
 June 29, 1791.1 
 I hope, my heart, that your health is good, and that it does 
 not suffer from the situation of your friend. Hers is excel- 
 lent ; you know that her body is never conscious of the sen- 
 sations of her soul. This latter is not what it should be 
 towards its Creator, the indulgence of God is its only hope 
 of mercy. I neither can nor will I enter into details as 
 to all that concerns me ; let it suffice you to know that I am 
 well, that I am tranquil, that I love you with all my heart, 
 and that I will write to you soon — if I can. 
 
 July 9, 1791. 
 I have just received from you the tiniest letter it is 
 possible to see; but it gives me great pleasure because 
 you send me word that Helfene and you are both well; 
 try to have it last. For that reason do not think of com- 
 ing here. No, my heart, the shocks to the soul are less 
 dangerous where you are than in Paris. Stay there until 
 minds are calmer than they are now. What should I 
 
 1 This letter is written directly after the fatal return from Varennes. 
 — Tb. 
 
64 LIFE AND LETTEKS OF [chap. ii. 
 
 do if anything happened here and you were here, too ? 
 I should be doubly unhappy, for with your acute sensibility 
 your milk would flow into your blood, and you would be 
 very ill. 
 
 Paris is tranquil in appearance. They say that minds are 
 in fermentation. But, in fact, I know nothing. There is 
 some excitement, — to-day the women of one of the clubs 
 came to present a petition which the Assembly would not 
 receive. They said they would return to-morrow. The peti- 
 tion is to be read at the opening of the Assembly ; I think it 
 demands that there shall be no longer a king. It seems to 
 me impossible to foresee the action of the Assembly. Duport, 
 Lameth, Barnave, Dandr^, La Fayette, are for the monarchy, 
 but I do not know if they can carry the day. 
 
 I have been very unhappy, my heart ; I am still, especially 
 in not being able to get sure news from foreign countries. I 
 was able to see my abb^ yesterday; I talked very deeply 
 with him and that wound me up again. At present I suffer 
 much less than you would do in my place ; therefore be tran- 
 quil about me. Try to discover if a staff-officer named 
 Goguelat, escaped with M. de Bouilld ; we are uneasy about 
 him. 
 
 Ah ! my heart, pray for me, but especially for the salvation 
 of those who may be the victims of all this. If I were sure 
 about that, I should not suffer so much ; I could say to my- 
 self that an eternity of happiness awaits them. Collect for 
 this prayer all the souls you know; some are more in- 
 terested than others, and have certainly thought of this. 
 What troubles each individual is enduring! More fortu- 
 nate than some, I have this week resumed my usual way of 
 life, but my soul is far from being able to take pleasure in it. 
 Yet I am calm, and if I did not fear more for others than 
 for myself, it seems to me that I could support with ease 
 
1791] MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE. 65 
 
 my position, which, though I am not a prisoner, is never- 
 theless annoying. Adieu, my heart; I love and kiss you 
 tenderly. 
 
 To the Able de Lubersac} 
 
 July 29, 1791. 
 
 I have just received your letter. I hope, monsieur, that 
 you do not doubt the interest with which I have read it. 
 Your health seems to me less bad : but I fear that the last 
 news you will have received from this country will make too 
 keen an impression on you. More than ever is one tempted 
 to say that a feeling heart is a cruel gift. Happy he who 
 can be indifferent to the woes of his country, and of all that 
 he holds most dear ! I have experienced how desirable that 
 state is for this world, and I live in the hope that the con- 
 trary will be useful in the other. Nevertheless, I own to you 
 that I am far from the resignation I desire to have. Aban- 
 donment to the will of God is so far only on the surface of 
 my mind. Still, having been for nearly a month in a violent 
 state, I am beginning to return to my usual condition ; events 
 seem to be calming down and that has caused it. God grant 
 that this may last awhile and that Heaven will pity us. You 
 cannot imagine how fervent souls are redoubling their zeal. 
 Surely Heaven cannot be deaf to so many prayers, offered 
 with such trustfulness. It is from the heart of Jesus 
 that they seem to await the favours of which they are in 
 need ; the fervour of this devotion appears to redouble ; the 
 more our woes increase, the more those prayers are offered 
 up. All the communities are making them ; but indeed the 
 whole world ought to unite to petition Heaven. Unhappily, 
 
 1 The Abbe de Lubersac, being Madame Victoire's chaplain, had ac- 
 companied her to Rome. Madame ^Elisabeth's last letter to him is dated 
 (as we shall see) July 22, 1792. His heart clung passionately to France. 
 Unable to live away from it he returned to Paris in August and perished 
 in the massacres of September 2 and 3. — Tk. 
 
 5 
 
66 LITE AND LETTEES OF [chap. ii. 
 
 it is much easier to speak strongly as to this than to execute 
 it ; I feel this constantly, and it angers me instead of humili- 
 ating me. 
 
 You ask me for my advice on the project you have formed. 
 If you wish me to speak to you frankly, I shall say that I 
 would not, if I were you, take the subject you have chosen. 
 We are still too corrupted for the virtues in which many 
 persons do not believe at all to have much effect. It would 
 be impossible for me to give you any information upon it, for 
 I possess none. But I believe that if you have the desire to 
 write, all subjects of Christian morality would be well treated 
 by you ; and if you are willing that I should still further 
 give you my opinion I shall say that, if I were you, I would 
 choose a subject strong in reason rather than in senti- 
 ment; it is more suited to the situation in which your soul 
 now is. Eemember, in reading this, that you wished me to 
 say to you what I think ; and do not doubt, I entreat you, 
 the perfect esteem I have for you, or the pleasure your 
 letters give me. 
 
 To the Marquise de Bombelles. 
 
 July 10, 1791. 
 
 I have received your little letter, dear Bombe ; I answer it 
 in the same way. Though we differ in opinion the signs it 
 contains of friendship give me great pleasure. You know I 
 am always sensitive to that, and you can imagine that 
 in a moment like this friendship has become a thousand-fold 
 more precious to me .... Paris and the king are still in 
 the same position ; the former tranquil, the second guarded 
 and not lost sight of a moment, and so is the queen. Yester- 
 day a species of camp was established under their windows, 
 for fear they might jump into the garden which is hermetically 
 closed and full of sentinels ; among them two or three under 
 
1791] MADAME :fcLISABETH DE FRANCE. 67 
 
 my windows. Adieu, my heart, I kiss you tenderly, as well 
 as your little one. They say that the affair of the king will 
 be reported on soon, and that he will then be set at liberty. 
 The law against the emigres is very severe; they forfeit 
 three-fifths of their property. {The end of this letter is 
 written in " white ink") 
 
 No, my heart, I am very far from permitting your return. 
 It is not, assuredly, that I should not be charmed to see you, 
 but because I am convinced that you would not be safe here. 
 Preserve yourself for happier times, when we may perhaps 
 enjoy in peace the friendship that unites us. I have been 
 very unhappy ; I am less so. If I saw an end to all this I 
 could more easily endure what is taking place ; but now is 
 the time to give ourselves wholly into the hands of God — 
 a thing that indeed the Comte d'Artois ought to do. We 
 ought to write to him and urge it. Our masters wish it. I 
 do not think it will influence him. 
 
 Our journey with Barnave and Potion went on most ridi- 
 culously. You believe, no doubt, that we were in torture ; 
 not at all. They behaved well, especially the first, who has 
 much intelligence and is not ferocious as people say. I 
 began by showing them frankly my opinion as to their 
 actions, and after that we talked for the rest of the journey 
 as if we ignored the whole thing. Barnave saved the gardes 
 du corps who were with us and whom the National guards 
 wanted to massacre. 
 
 September 8, 1791. 
 
 The Constitution is in the hands of the king since Satur- 
 day, and he is reflecting on the answer he will make. Time 
 will tell us what he decides upon in his wisdom. We must 
 ask the Holy Spirit to give him of its gifts ; he has great need 
 of them. 
 
68 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii. 
 
 I wish I had something amusing to tell you, but we do 
 not abound in that commodity ; all the more because the 
 price of bread is rising and makes us fear many riots this 
 winter, not counting those with which the autumn threatens 
 us. It is very sad, and there is no way to make ourselves 
 illusions because the Assembly itself speaks of them, the riots, 
 as an evil it expects. It is true that the strength given 
 by the love of liberty is very reassuring, and patriotism 
 can easily take the place of order and the subordination of 
 troops. . . . 
 
 Yes, my heart, I wish I could transport myself near you. 
 How sweet it would be to me ! But Providence has placed 
 me where I am ; it is not I who chose it ; Providence keeps 
 me here and to that I must submit. We are still quite tran- 
 quil. A letter has appeared from the Prince, and a declara- 
 tion from the emperor and the King of Prussia [at Pillnitz]. 
 The letter is strong, but the other is not. Yet some persons 
 think they see the heavens opening. As for me I am not so 
 credulous ; I lift my hands to heaven and ask that God will 
 save us from useless evils. You will do the same, I think. 
 
 To the, Marquise de Raigecourt. 
 
 September 12, 1791. 
 
 At last I have an opportunity to write to you; I am charmed, 
 for I have a hundred thousand things to say ; but I do not 
 know where to begin ; besides, I do not want to have to render 
 an account of this letter in the next world, for, just now, 
 charity is a difficult virtue to put in practice. 
 
 I begin by telling you that the Constitution is not yet signed, 
 but it is safe to wager that it will be by the time this letter 
 reaches you, perhaps before I close it, even. Is it a good, is 
 it an evil ? Heaven alone knows which it is. Many persons 
 think, from their point of view, that they are certain about it. 
 
1791] MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE. 69 
 
 I am in no way called upon to give my advice, or even to 
 speak of the matter. I am still floating as to the view to 
 take ; there are so many fors and ifs and huts to be considered 
 that I remain uncertain. One must see all things very near 
 to judge; these are too far-off to be able to bring them 
 enough into one's thoughts to fix one's ideas. 
 
 To speak to you a little of myself, I will tell you that I am 
 about what you have always seen me; rather gay, though 
 there are moments when my position makes me feel keenly ; 
 nevertheless, on the whole, I am more calm than agitated or 
 anxious, as you- certainly fancy I am. The knowledge you 
 have of my nature will make you understand what I say. 
 The life I lead is about the same. We go to mass at mid- 
 day ; dine at half-past one. At six I return to my own 
 apartments ; at half-past seven the ladies come ; at half-past 
 nine we sup. They play billiards after dinner and after 
 supper, to make the king take exercise. At eleven every- 
 body goes to bed, to begin again on the morrow. Sometimes 
 I regret my poor Montreuil, especially when the weather is 
 warm and fine; there may come a time, perhaps, when we 
 shall all be there again ; what happiness I should then feel ! 
 but everything tells me that moment is very far-off ; we are 
 walking on a quicksand. 
 
 One thing alone affects me deeply. It is that they are 
 trying to put coldness into a family whom I love sincerely .^ 
 Consequently, as you are in the way of seeing a person who 
 might have some influence, I wish you would talk to him in 
 private and fill him with the idea that all will be lost if the 
 son should have other ideas for the future than those of con- 
 fidence and submission to the orders of the father. All 
 
 1 Between the king and his brothers. In the above letter the name 
 father means the king ; that of mother-in-law, the queen ; that of son the 
 Comte d'Artois. — Fr. Ed. 
 
70 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii. 
 
 views, all ideas, all feelings ought to yield to that. You 
 must feel, yourself, how necessary this is. To speak quite 
 clearly : remember the position of that unfortunate father ; 
 events which prevent him from any longer managing his 
 own estate throw him into the arms of his son. That son 
 has always had as you know, a perfect conduct towards 
 his father, in spite of all that has been done to make him 
 quarrel with his mother-in-law. He always resisted it. I 
 do not think it made him bitter, because he is incapable of 
 bitterness ; but I fear that those who are now allied with him 
 may give him bad advice. The father is nearly well ; his 
 affairs are recovering ; he may shortly take back the manage- 
 ment of his estate, and that is the moment that I fear. The 
 son, who sees the advantages of leaving them in the hands 
 in which they now are, will hold to that idea ; the mother-in- 
 law will never allow it ; and this struggle must be averted 
 by making the young man feel that, even for his personal 
 interests, he ought not to put forward that opinion, and so 
 avoid placing himself in a painful position. 
 
 I wish therefore that you would talk this over with the 
 person I indicated, and make him enter into my meaning 
 (without telling him I have spoken thus) by making him 
 believe the idea is his own, and then he will more readily 
 communicate it. He ought to feel better than any one the 
 rights of the father over his sons, for he has long experi- 
 enced it. I wish also that he could persuade the young 
 man to be a little more gracious to his mother-in-law, if 
 only by the charm a man can employ when he chooses, and 
 thus convince her that he wants to see her what she has 
 always been. In this way he would avoid much vexation 
 and could enjoy in peace the friendship and confidence of 
 his father. But you know very well that it is only by 
 talking tranquilly to that person, without closing the eyes 
 
1791] MADAME JELISABETH DE FRANCE. 71 
 
 or lengthening the face, that you can make him feel what I 
 say. For that you must be convinced yourself. Therefore, 
 read my letter over again, try to understand it thoroughly, 
 and start from that to do my commission. They will tell 
 you harm of the mother-in-law ; but the sole means of 
 preventing that from becoming a reality is the one I tell 
 you. The young man made a blunder in not allying him- 
 self with a friend of the said lady. If no one speaks to you 
 of this do not mention it. 
 
 P. S. I knew it ! here is the Constitution settled and 
 accepted in a letter which you will certainly hear of soon. 
 In reading it, you will know all that I think of it, therefore 
 I will say no more. I have much anxiety as to the results. 
 I wish I could be in all the cabinets of Europe. The con- 
 duct of Frenchmen becomes difficult. One single thing 
 supports me, it is the joy of knowing that those gentlemen 
 are out of prison.^ I go to the Assembly at midday, to 
 follow the queen ; were I mistress of myself, I certainly 
 would not go. But, I do not know how it is, all this does 
 not cost me as much as it does others, though assuredly I 
 am far from being constitutional. M. de Choiseul came 
 out of prison to-day, the others yesterday. Adieu ; give me, 
 in white ink, all the news you know, but try to have it true. 
 That about the imperial troops does not please me. What 
 is said in your region ? The colonies are not to be subjected 
 to the decrees. Bamave spoke with such force that he 
 carried the day. That man has much talent ; he has in- 
 tellect, he might have been a great man had he willed it ; 
 he may stQl be one ; but heaven's anger is not over. How 
 should it be ? what are we doing to make it so ? 
 
 1 All the gentlemen captured during the flight to Varennes were 
 released on the king's accepting the Constitution. — Tr. 
 
72 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii. 
 
 October 4, 1791. 
 
 They say there is to be a congress at Aix-la-Chapelle ; 
 they even quote an extract of a letter from Mari^chal de 
 Broglie saying positively that the emperor has received 
 answers from all the other Courts, adhering to the declara- 
 tion of Pillnitz, and that in consequence their ministers and 
 ambassadors are to assemble at Aix-la-Chapelle. God grant 
 it may be so ! Then, indeed, we might have a hope of 
 seeing our evils at an end. But this slow progress demands 
 great prudence, much union of wills ; to this all our desires 
 should tend. I own to you that this position works upon 
 my mind more than it should. I am pursued in my prayers 
 with counsels that I want to give ; I am very discontented 
 with myself ; I wish to be calm — but that will come. 
 
 October 12, 1791. 
 
 Very happy news is being spread here. The emperor has, 
 they say, recognized the National flag ; thus, all fears are 
 calmed. It must be owned that in the eyes of the cen- 
 turies, present and future, such pacific moderation will have 
 a superb effect. Already I see histories relating it with 
 enthusiasm, the people blessing it for their happiness, 
 peace reigning in my hapless country, constitutional re- 
 ligion fully established, philosophy enjoying its work, and 
 we, poor Eoman-apostolicals, moaning and hiding ourselves ; 
 for if this Assembly is not driven out by the Parisians, 
 things will be terrible for non-conformists. But, my heart, 
 God is master of all ; let us work to save ourselves ; let us 
 pray for the evil-doers, and not imitate them ; God will 
 reward us how and when he will. 
 
 All is tranquil here, but who knows how long it will 
 last ? I think it may last long, because the people, meeting 
 with no resistance, have no reason for excitement. The 
 
1791] MADAME IjLISABETH DE EEANCE. 73 
 
 king is at this moment the object of public adoration; 
 you cannot form an idea of the uproar there was on Saturday 
 night at the Italian comedy; but we must wait and see 
 how long such enthusiasm will last. 
 
 I do not number my letters any longer, because I burned 
 all the papers I did not care to have read on my return 
 here. 
 
 I think, as you do, that the young man of whom you 
 speak [Comte d'Artois] will never be happy in his family ; 
 but I do not think that his mother-in-law is altogether the 
 cause of it ; I think he is tricked by the old fox [Comte de 
 Mercy] who is the intimate friend of her brother. If the 
 young man did wisely he would try to win him over, but 
 there are so many conflicting interests to defeat it ! "What 
 is greatly to be feared is that the mother-in-law should be 
 as much the fox's victim as any one. 
 
 An extraordinary thing has happened within a day or 
 two ; a corporal took it upon himself to lock the king and 
 queen into their rooms from nine o'clock at night till nine 
 the next morning. This went on two days before it was 
 discovered. The guard is furious, and there is to be a coun- 
 cil of war. By rules, the corporal ought to be hanged ; but 
 I do not think he will be, and I should be sorry for it. The 
 rumour in Paris is that the king is under arrest. 
 
 No doubt you read the newspapers, therefore I give you 
 no news when I tell you that the decree on the priests 
 passed yesterday, with all possible severity. It was taken 
 to the king in spite of its unconstitutional faults. At the 
 same time there came a deputation of, I believe, twenty- 
 four members, to beg the king to take steps towards the 
 Powers inviting them to prevent the great assemblages of 
 emigres, or else to declare war against them. In their 
 speech they assured the king that Louis XIV. would not 
 
74 LIFE AND LETTEKS OF [chap. ir. 
 
 have suffered such assemblages. What do you think of 
 that? — a pretty thing of them to talk in these days of 
 Louis XIV., "that despot!" 
 
 To the Marquise de Bombelles. 
 
 November 8, 1791. 
 
 Do you know, my Bombe, that if I did not rely on your 
 friendship, your indulgence, I should be rather ashamed of 
 the long time since I have written to you. But it was to do 
 better that I did wrong. I wanted to write you a long letter 
 and I never have found time. Your mother wrote you a 
 week ago, so that you know that all with us is still standing, 
 and that, in spite of the blasphemies they never cease to 
 vomit against God and his ministers, the skies have not 
 yet fallen upon us. . . . \_The rest is in white ink.'] 
 
 At last they feel here the necessity of drawing closer to 
 Coblentz [the headquarters of the princes and emigres]. 
 Some one is to be sent from here who will remain there, and 
 will be in correspondence with the Baron de Breteuil.^ But 
 I feel one fear as to this step ; I am afraid it is taken only 
 
 1 Louis XVI.'s confidential agent towards the Courts of Europe. The 
 following is a copy of his full powers : — 
 
 " Monsieur le Baron de Breteuil, knowing your zeal and your fidelity, 
 and wishing to give you a proof of my confidence, I have chosen you to 
 confide to you the interests of my crown. Circumstances do not allow me 
 to give you instructions on this or that object, nor to hold with you a con- 
 tinuous correspondence. I send you the present to serve you as full 
 powers [pleins pouvoirs] and authorization towards the different Powers 
 with whom you may have to negotiate for me. You know my intentions ; 
 and I leave it to your prudence to make what use you judge necessary of 
 these powers for the good of my service. I approve of all that you may 
 do to attain the end that I propose to myself, which is the re-establishment 
 of my legitimate authority and the welfare of my people. On which, I 
 pray God, M. le Baron de Breteuil, etc." 
 
 The Baron de Breteuil's headquarters were at Brussels. See " Diary 
 and Correspondence of Count Axel Fersen," the preceding volume of this 
 Hist. Series. — Tr. 
 
1791] MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE. 75 
 
 to stop rash enterprises, which, are much to be dreaded, and 
 not to bring about deserved confidence. Yet, if that confi- 
 dence does not exist what will happen ? We shall be the 
 dupe of all the Powers of Europe. I hope your husband will 
 urge the Baron de Breteuil to enter sincerely into this new 
 order of things. Here we are at the gates of winter ; this is 
 the moment for negotiations ; they might have a happy issue, 
 but only if done with harmony of action. If that does not 
 exist, remember what I tell you : in the spring, either the 
 most dreadful civil war will be established in France, or each 
 province will set up its own master. Do not think that 
 the policy of Vienna is disinterested ; it is far short of that. 
 Austria never forgets that Alsace once belonged to her. All 
 the other Powers are very glad to have a reason to leave us in 
 a state of humiliation. Think of the time that has passed 
 since our return from Varennes ! Did those events stir the 
 emperor ? Has he not been the first to show uncertainty as 
 to what he would do ? To believe, as many persons assert, 
 that it is the queen who holds him back, seems to me devoid 
 of sense, and almost a crime. But I do permit myself to 
 think that the policy pursued towards that Power has not 
 been conducted with sufficient skill. If that is so, I think 
 there is some blame ; but it would be unpardonable if, after 
 the decree given yesterday against the emigres, the present 
 danger were not felt. Judge by the quantity of Frenchmen 
 who are over there how impossible it will be to restrain 
 them ; and what will become of France and her king if they 
 take such a course without foreign help ? Eeflect on all this, 
 my Bombe; and if your husband sees there is real danger 
 that . . . \the paper is torn at this place'] ... or that he 
 urges his friend to act in good faith ; I expect that at first 
 the man sent to Coblentz will meet with some difficulties ; 
 but he must not be alarmed ; speaking in the king's name 
 
76 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. n. 
 
 and putting no inflexibility into his manner of maintaining 
 his opinion while arguing it well, he will lead the others. 
 
 Adieu ; let me know that you receive this letter ; if your 
 husband takes any steps towards the baron he must not let 
 him know that I asked it, or that I have even written to you 
 on the subject. 
 
 To the Comte d'Artois. 
 
 February 19, 1792. 
 
 You know, my dear brother, what my friendship is for 
 you, and how I rejoice to hear of your well-being. I believe, 
 I who am here on the spot, that you are unjust towards that 
 person ; you have not at bottom a better friend. I pray God 
 that he will shed upon you his blessing and his light, and 
 you will then judge better. This estrangement is on all 
 sides a calamity and a suffering ; for it casts shadows where 
 friendship ought to shine. I will write to you more at length 
 by the opportunity you know of, and I will prove to you that 
 you will never find a truer, tenderer, more devoted friend 
 than I am to you. 
 
 To the Marquise de Raigecourt. 
 * February 22, 1792. 
 
 I will see, my heart, when my purse is a little less empty, 
 what I can do for those good and saintly Fathers of the 
 sacred Valley [La Trappe] . What a life is theirs ! how we 
 ought to blush in comparing it with ours ! But perhaps a 
 part of those saints have not as many sins to expiate as we 
 have. What ought to console us is that God does not re- 
 quire from everybody what he does from them, and that, pro- 
 vided we are faithful in the little we do, he is content. 
 
 The queen and her children were at the theatre last night, 
 where the audience made an infernal uproar of applause. 
 The Jacobins tried to make a disturbance, but they were 
 
1792] MADAME ]&LISABETH DE FRANCE. 77 
 
 beaten. The others called for the repetition four times of 
 the duet between the valet and the maid in " Ev^nements 
 impr^vus," in which they tell of the love they feel for their 
 master and mistress ; and at the passage where they say, 
 " "We must make them happy," the greater part of the 
 audience cried out, " Yes, yes ! " — Can you conceive of our 
 nation? It must be owned, it has its charming moments. 
 On which, good-night. Your sister spent a happy day lately 
 at the " Calvaire." Vive la ZihertS ! As for me, who enjoy 
 as much as I can of it for the last three years, I envy the fate 
 of those who can turn their steps where they will ; if I could 
 only spend a few calm days it would do me great good. It 
 is a year since I have dared to go to Saint-Cyr. 
 
 To the Comte d'Artois. 
 
 February 22, 1792. 
 
 Your last letter was brought to me this morning, my dear 
 brother, and I have been made very happy by finding it less 
 bitter than the one that preceded it. Nevertheless, I prom- 
 ised to add a few words to one I wrote you three days ago, 
 and I am too sincerely your friend not to do so. 
 
 I think that the son has too much severity towards his 
 mother-in-law. She has not the faults for which he blames 
 her. I think she may have listened to suspicious advice ; 
 but she bears the evils that overwhelm her with strong 
 courage ; and she should be pitied far more than blamed, for 
 she has good intentions. She tries to fix the vacillations 
 [^incertitudes'] of the father, who, to the misfortune of the 
 family, is no longer master, and — I know not if God wills 
 that I deceive myself, but — I greatly fear that she will be 
 one of the first victims of what is taking place, and my 
 heart is too wrung with that presentiment to allow me to 
 blame her. 
 
78 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii. 
 
 God is good ; he will not suffer discord to continue in a 
 family to which unity and a good understanding would be 
 so useful. I shudder when I think of it ; it deprives me of 
 sleep, for discord will kill us all. You know the difference 
 in habits and societies that your sister had always had with 
 the mother-in-law ; in spite of that she feels drawn to her 
 when she sees her unjustly accused, and when she looks the 
 future in the face. It is very unfortunate that the son has 
 not been willing, or perhaps able, to win over the intimate 
 friend of the mother-in-law's brother [Comte de Mercy]. 
 That old fox is tricking her; and the son ought to have 
 taken the duty upon himself, if possible, and made the sac- 
 rifice of being on terms with him in order to foil him and 
 prevent an evil which has now become alarming. Of two 
 evils, the least. All men of his sort frighten me ; they have 
 intellect, but what good is it to them ? Heart is needed as 
 well, and they have none. They have nothing but intrigue ; 
 into which it is unfortunate that they drag so many persons. 
 Others should have been more shrewd than they. . . . 
 
 The idea of the emperor racks me : if he makes war upon 
 us there will be an awful explosion. May God watch over 
 us ! He has heavily laid his hand on this kingdom in a 
 visible manner. Let us pray to him, my dear brother ; he 
 alone knows hearts, in him alone is our worthy hope. I 
 have passed this Lent in asking him to look with pity upon 
 us, and to arrange these matters in the family I love so 
 much. I have that so deeply at heart that I would conse- 
 crate my life to asking it on my two knees, if that would 
 make me worthy of being heard. It is only God who can 
 change our fate, make the vertigo of this nation (good at 
 bottom) cease, and restore it to health and peace. Adieu — 
 what was it you asked me ? how I pass my time ? what are 
 my occupations ? whether I ride on horseback ? whether I 
 
1792] MADAME l}LISABETH DE EEANCE. 79 
 
 still go to Saint-Cyr ? I scarcely dare for a whole year past 
 to do my duties. I kiss you with all my heart. Miserere 
 noiis. 
 
 To the Marquise de Raigecourt. 
 
 April 6, 1792. 
 
 As I do not wish you to scold me, I write on Holy Thurs- 
 day, hut only a little line. The King of Sweden is assas- 
 sinated ! Every one has his turn. He had incredible 
 courage. We do not yet know if he is dead; but it is 
 likely that he is from the way the pistol was loaded. Adieu, 
 my heart ; when you wean the baby I will busy myself in 
 finding you a lodging in the chateau, for yours has been 
 given to others. 
 
 April 18,1792. 
 
 You think perhaps we are still in the agitation of the fgte 
 at Chateauvieux ; not at all ; everything is very tranquil. 
 The people flocked to see Dame Liberty tottering on her 
 triumphal car, but they shrugged their shoulders. Three or 
 four hundred sans-culottes followed her shouting : " The Na- 
 tion ! Liberty ! The Sans-Culottes ! " It was all very noisy, 
 but flat. The National guards would not mingle; on the 
 contrary, they were angry, and Potion, they say, is ashamed 
 of his conduct. The next day a pike with a bonnet rouge 
 walked about the garden, without shouting, and did not 
 stay long. 
 
 The King of Sweden died with much courage. What a 
 pity that he was not Catholic ; he would have been a true 
 hero. His country seems tranquil. Adieu, my heart. 
 
 June 23, 1792. 
 
 For three days before the 20th a great commotion was felt 
 to exist in Paris, but it was thought that all necessary pre- 
 
80 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii. 
 
 cautions were taken to ward off danger, Wednesday morn- 
 ing the courtyards and garden were full of troops. At 
 midday we heard that the faubourg Saint-Antoine was on 
 the march ; it bore a petition to the Assembly, and did not 
 propose to cross the Tuileries, Fifteen hundred persons filed 
 into the Assembly ; few ISTational guards and some Invalids, 
 the rest were sans-culottes and women. Three municipal 
 officers came to ask the king to allow the troops to enter the 
 garden, saying that the Assembly was hampered by the 
 crowd, and the passages so incumbered that the doors might 
 be forced. The king told them to arrange with the com- 
 mandant to defile along the terrace of the Feuillants and go 
 out by the gate of the riding-school. 
 
 Shortly after this the other gates of the garden were 
 opened in spite of these orders. Soon the garden was filled. 
 The pikes began to defile in order under the terrace in front 
 of the chateau where there were three lines of National 
 guards. They went out by the gate to the Pont Eoyal and 
 seemed to intend to pass through the Carrousel on their way 
 back to the faubourg Saint-Antoine, At three o'clock they 
 showed signs of wishing to force the gate of the grand 
 courtyard. Two municipal officers opened it. The National 
 Guard, which had not been able to obtain any orders since 
 the morning, had the sorrow of seeing them cross the court- 
 yard without being able to bar the way. The department 
 had given orders to repulse force by force, but the munici- 
 pality paid no attention to this. 
 
 We were, at this moment, at the king's window. The few 
 persons who were with his valet de chamhre came and joined 
 us. The doors were closed. A moment later we heard raps. 
 It was Acloque with a few grenadiers and volunteers whom 
 he had collected. He asked the king to show himself, alone. 
 The king passed into the first antechamber. There M. 
 
c:^.^^Ol 
 
 t>c^od-^ JCVJ^ 
 
1792] MADAME I:LISABETH DE FRANCE. 81 
 
 d'Hervilly came to join him, with three or four grenadiers 
 whom he had induced to come with him. 
 
 At the moment when the king passed into the antechamber 
 the persons attached to the queen forced her to go into her 
 son's room. More fortunate than she, no one tore me from 
 the king's side. The queen had scarcely gone when the door 
 was burst in by the pikes. The king, at that instant, mounted 
 one of the coffers which stand in the windows. The Mar^- 
 chal de Mouchy, MM. d'Hervilly, Acloque, and a dozen 
 grenadiers surrounded him. I stood against the wall with 
 the ministers, M. de Marcilly, and some National guards 
 around me. The pikes entered the chamber like a thunder- 
 bolt ; they looked for the king, especially one of them, who 
 used the most dangerous language. A grenadier turned aside 
 his weapon, saying, " Unhappy man ! this is your king." All 
 the grenadiers then began to shout Vive le Boi! The rest of 
 the pikes responded mechanically to the cry ; the chamber 
 was filled in less time than I can tell it, the pikes demanding 
 the sanction, and the dismissal of the ministers.^ 
 
 During four hours the same shouts were repeated. Mem- 
 bers of the Assembly came. M. Vergniaud and Isnard spoke 
 weU to the people ; told them they did wrong to demand the 
 king's sanction thus, and urged them to withdraw; but it 
 was as if they did not speak at all. At last Potion and the 
 municipality arrived. The first harangued the people, and 
 after praising the " dignity " and " order " with which they 
 had come, he invited them to retire with " the same calm- 
 
 1 This was the moment, recorded by all other witnesses and forgotten by 
 Madame Elisabeth, when, being mistaken for the queen and threatened with 
 death, she stopped those who wished to correct the blunder. " No, no," 
 she said, "let them think I am she." One witness mentions that she 
 added, " Their crime would be less." 
 
 It was on this occasion that a woman of the people said, the next 
 day : " We could do nothing then ; they had their Sainte Genevieve with 
 them." — Te. 
 
 6 
 
82 LITE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii. 
 
 ness," in order that they might not be reproached for com- 
 mitting excess at " a civic fete." At last the populace began 
 to depart. 
 
 I forgot to tell you that, shortly after the crowd entered, 
 the grenadiers made a space and kept the people from press- 
 ing on the king. As for me, I had mounted the window- 
 seat on the side towards the king's room. A great number 
 of persons attached to the king had come to him that morn- 
 ing; but he sent them orders to go away, fearing another 
 18th of April. I should like to express myself as to that, 
 -but not being able to do so, I will simply say that I shall 
 recur to it. All that I say now is that he who gave the 
 order did well, and that the conduct of the others was 
 perfect. 
 
 But to return to the queen, whom I left dragged against 
 her will to my nephew's room ; they had carried the latter 
 so quickly into hiding that she did not see him on entering 
 his apartment. You can imagine her despair. But M. Hue, 
 usher, and M. Saint- Vincent were with him and soon brought 
 him to her. She did everything possible to return to the 
 king, but MM. de Choiseul and d'Haussonville, also those 
 of our ladies who were there, prevented it. A moment later 
 they heard the doors burst in, all but one which the people 
 did not find. Meantime the grenadiers had entered the 
 Council Chamber, and there they placed her, with her chil- 
 dren, behind the Council table. The grenadiers and other 
 attached persons surrounded her, and the populace defiled 
 before her. One woman put a honnet rouge upon her head, 
 also on that of my nephew. The king had worn one from 
 almost the first moment. Santerre, who conducted the pro- 
 cession, harangued her, and told her they deceived her by 
 saying that the people did not love her. He assured her 
 she had nothing to fear. "We fear nothing," she replied, 
 
1792] MADAME :fcLISABETH DE FRANCE. 83 
 
 " when we are with brave men." So saying, she stretched 
 out her hand to the grenadiers who were near her, and they 
 fell upon it. It was very touching. 
 
 The deputies who came, came with good-will. A true 
 deputation arrived which requested the king to return to his 
 own room. I was told of this, and not bemg willing to stay 
 behind in the crowd, I left about an hour before he did, and 
 rejoined the queen. You can judge with what joy I em- 
 braced her, though I was then ignorant of the risks she had 
 run. The king returned to his room, and nothing could be 
 more touching than the moment when the queen and his 
 children threw themselves into his arms. The deputies who 
 were there burst into tears. The deputations relieved each 
 other every half-hour until quiet was completely restored. 
 They were shown the violences that had been committed. 
 They behaved very well in the apartment of the king, who 
 was perfect to them. At ten o'clock the chateau was empty, 
 and every one went to bed. 
 
 The next day, the National Guard, after expressing the 
 greatest grief at its hands being bound, and having had be- 
 fore its eyes, helplessly, all that had taken place, obtained 
 an order from Potion to fire, if necessary. At seven o'clock 
 it was said that the faubourgs were marching, and the Guard 
 put itself under arms with the greatest zeal. Deputies of 
 the Assembly came with good-will and asked the king to let 
 the Assembly come to him, if he thought there was danger. 
 The king thanked them. You will see their dialogue iu the 
 newspapers, also the one with Potion, who came to tell the 
 king that the crowd was only a few persons who wanted to 
 plant a May tree. 
 
 At this moment we are tranquil. The arrival of M. de la 
 Fayette from the army creates a little excitement in people's 
 minds. The Jacobins are sleeping. These are the details of 
 
84 LIEE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii. 
 
 the 20th of June. Adieu ; I am well ; I kiss you, and I am 
 thankful you are not here in the fray. 
 
 To the Abbe de Zubersac. 
 
 June 25, 1792. 
 
 This letter will be rather long on its way ; but I prefer 
 not to let this opportunity of talking with you pass. I am 
 convinced that you will feel almost as keenly as ourselves 
 the blow that has just been struck us ; it is all the more 
 dreadful because it lacerates the heart, and takes away our 
 peace of mind. The future seems an abyss, from which 
 we can only issue by a miracle of Providence. Do we 
 deserve it? At that question I feel my courage fail me. 
 Which of us can expect the answer, " Yes, you deserve it " ? 
 All suffer, but alas ! none are penitent, none turn their hearts 
 to God. As for me, what reproaches I have to make to my- 
 self ! Swept along by the whirlwind of misfortune I have 
 not asked of Grod the grace we need ; I have relied on human 
 help ; I have been more guilty than others, for who has been 
 as much as I the child of Providence ? But it is not enough 
 to recognize our faults; we must repair them. I cannot 
 alone. Monsieur, have the charity to help me. Ask of God, 
 not a change which it may please him to send us when, 
 in his wisdom, he thinks suitable, but let us limit ourselves 
 and ask him only to enlighten and touch all hearts, and es- 
 pecially to speak to two most unhappy beings, who would be 
 more unhappy still if God did not call them to him. Alas ! 
 the blood of Jesus Christ flowed for them as much as for the 
 solitary hermit who mourns for trivial faults incessantly. 
 Say to God often, " If thou wilt, thou canst cure them," and 
 give to him the glory of it. God knows the remedies to be 
 applied. 
 
 I am sorry to write to you in so gloomy a style ; but my 
 
1792] MADAME IlLISABETH DE FRANCE. 85 
 
 heart is so dark that it is difficult for me to speak otherwise. 
 Do not think from this that my health suffers; no, I am 
 well ; and God has given me grace to keep my gaiety, I 
 earnestly hope that your health may be restored ; I wish I 
 could know that it was better ; but how can one hope that 
 with your sensibilities ? Let us think that there is another 
 life where we shall be amply compensated for the troubles 
 of this one ; and let us live in the hope of meeting there 
 once more — but not until after we have the pleasure of see- 
 ing each other again in this world ; for, in spite of my exces- 
 sive gloom, I cannot believe that all is hopeless. Adieu, 
 monsieur; pray for me, I beg of you, after having prayed 
 for those others, and send me news of yourself at times ; it 
 is a consolation to me. 
 
 To the Marquise de Baigecourt 
 
 July 8, 1792. 
 It would really require all the eloquence of Mme. de 
 S^vigne to describe what happened yesterday ; for it is, in- 
 deed, the most surprising thing, the most extraordinary, the 
 grandest, the pettiest, etc., etc. Happily, experience aids 
 comprehension. In short, behold the Jacobins, the Feuil- 
 lants, the Eepublicans, the Monarchists, all abjuriag their 
 discords, and, uniting beneath the immovable arch of the 
 Constitution and Liberty, promising one another very sin- 
 cerely to walk together, laws in hand, and never to deviate 
 from them ! Happily, the month of August is approachuig, 
 when, its foliage being fully developed, the tree of liberty 
 wiU offer a safer shade. The city is tranquil and will be so 
 during the Federation. I tremble lest there be no religious 
 ceremonies ; you know my taste for them. Ask of God, my 
 heart, that he will give me strength and counsel. Adieu ; I 
 embrace and love you with all my heart. 
 
86 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii. 
 
 July 11, 1792. 
 
 Our good patriots in the Assembly have just, my heart, 
 declared the country to be in danger, in view of the conduct 
 of the kings of Hungary and Prussia (not to speak of others) 
 towards poor peaceable beings like us ; for why should any 
 one blame us ? However that may be, the nation is about 
 to rise as one man. 
 
 Our ministers have taken the course of resigning, all six 
 at once ; which astonishes many persons, — all the more be- 
 cause their determination was sudden and confided to no 
 one. I had attached myself to two of them, and you will 
 agree that that was hardly worth while. 
 
 Our Federation is making ready quietly. A few Federals 
 are already here ; they do not come in troops as they did 
 two years ago, but gradually. I have just seen some disem- 
 barking, and they have not an elegant appearance. 
 
 Adieu ; I kiss you with all my heart, and I beg of you the 
 favour of not fretting because you are not here ; the reasons 
 are good why you should stay where you are, and you must 
 think of the matter no longer. 
 
 July 18, 1792. 
 
 Your prayers, unworthy as you pretend they are, brought 
 us good fortune, my heart ; the famous day of the 14th [fete 
 of the Federation] passed off tranquilly. There was much 
 shouting of Vive Petion ! and the Sans Culottes ! As we re- 
 turned the whole guard which accompanied the king never 
 ceased shouting, Vive le roi ! they were all heart and soul 
 for us ; that did good. Since then Paris is very calm. They 
 have just sent away three regiments and two battalions of 
 the Swiss Guards to the camp at Soissons. 
 
 I am well, my heart, except for the heat, which is scarcely 
 endurable just now. We had a frightful storm the night 
 
1792] MADAME i^LISABETH DE FRANCE. 87 
 
 before last ; it lasted an immense time ; the lightning fell 
 upon the gardens at Versailles. Adieu, my heart ; my letters 
 must tire you ; I think that before long you will not have 
 patience to read them ; but how can I help it ? I do not know 
 what to tell you. I kiss you with all my heart. 
 
 y ^ Jt^ ^4X14 tCM'iUliA' ^ le. ^Mftf^* » . 
 
 To the Abbe de Lubersac. 
 
 July 22, 1792. 
 
 You will soon receive a letter from me which is a perfect 
 jeremiad. From its style one would think I had foreseen 
 what was to follow. I do not wish you to think, monsieur, 
 that that is my habitual state. No, God grants me the grace 
 to be quite otherwise ; but at times my heart has need to let 
 itself go, and I must speak of the agitations that fill it ; it 
 seems as if, by giving relaxation to the nerves, they gained 
 more strength. You, who are more sensitive than others, 
 must feel this need. 
 
 Since the dreadful day of the 20 th we are more tranquil ; 
 but we do not the less need the prayers of saintly souls. 
 Let those who, sheltered from the storm, feel only, so to 
 speak, its repercussion, lift their hearts to God. Yes, God 
 has given them the favour to live in quiet that they may 
 make that use of their freedom. Those on whom the storm 
 lowers meet at times with such shocks that it is difficult to 
 
88 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii. 
 
 practise the great resource — that of prayer. Happy the 
 heart of whoso can feel in the great agitations of this world 
 that God is with it ! happy the saints who, pierced by stabs, 
 can yet praise God in every moment of their day ! Ask that 
 grace, monsieur, for those who are feeble and little faithful 
 like me ; it would be a true work of charity to do. 
 
 My aunt thanks me often for making her know you [the 
 Abb^ de Lubersac was with Madame Victoire in Eome]. It 
 seems to me very simple that she should be pleased, and I 
 think myself fortunate to have procured for her that advan- 
 tage — or, to speak more truly, to have been one of the 
 instruments that God has used for that work of salvation. I 
 will not say as to that all that I think ; but I am very glad 
 to be able to speak of it to you in order that you may put 
 your shyness more to one side, if you are still a victim to it 
 — I can use that expression, for shyness is a real affliction. 
 
 Paris is in some fermentation ; but there exists a God who 
 watches over the city and its inhabitants. Therefore be 
 tranquil. I wish I could think that the great heats will not 
 make you suffer; but that is difficult. Adieu, monsieur, I 
 hope that you do not forget me before God, and that you are 
 convinced of the esteem I have for you. 
 
 To the Marquise de BaigecouH. 
 
 July 25, 1792. 
 Good-day, my Eaigecourt. Your H^lfene must be a jewel. 
 I do not doubt it, but I am charmed to hear it ; though I 
 should be still more charmed, I assure you, if I could see her 
 instead of believing what you say of her. But patience ! 
 your health, I hope, will not be long in getting strong, and 
 then you might soon come and join me. What a fine 
 moment, my heart, will that be ! we shall have bought it by 
 a very long parting. But there is an end to all things. I 
 
1792] MADAME ELISABETH DE FEANCE. 89 
 
 do not flatter myself that I can see you before the autumn ; 
 but it is always sweet to be able to talk of it. 
 
 Our days pass tranquilly. The last few have not been 
 quite the same ; the people tried to force the gates ; but the 
 National Guard behaved admirably and stopped it all. There 
 is talk of suspending the executive power to pass the time. 
 To pass mine in another manner I go, in the mornings, for 
 three or four hours into the garden, — not every day, how- 
 ever ; but it does me a great deal of good. Adieu ; I kiss you 
 with my whole heart and end because there is nothing I am 
 able to tell you. 
 
 Madame Elisabeth's last letter bore date August 8, 1792 ; 
 two days before the fatal 10th, when silence fell forever 
 between her and her friends. In that letter she spoke of the 
 " death of the executive power," adding, " I can enter into 
 no details." 
 
90 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. hi. 
 
 CHAPTEK III. 
 
 Madame ^Elisabeth's Removal to the Conciergerie. — Her Examination, 
 Condemnation, and Death, i 
 
 [The only authentic records of Madame Elisabetli's life 
 from the day she entered the Tower of the Temple, August 
 13, 1792, to May 9, 1794, the day when she was torn from 
 the arms of her young niece, are in the simple Narrative of 
 that niece, Marie-Th^rfese de France, and in the Journal of 
 the Temple by Clery, Louis XVI.'s valet. These narratives 
 could be, and have been rewritten and elaborated in tender 
 words by loving hearts, but their plain simplicity is more 
 befitting the sacred figure of this brave, self-forgetting, wise, 
 and truly Christ-like woman. They are queens later. 
 
 We take her now as she emerges from the Temple, for a 
 last brief moment, into the sight and hearing of men.] 
 
 On the 25th of November, 1793, the municipality of Paris 
 addressed to the National Assembly the following petition : 
 
 " Legislators 
 
 " You have decreed Equality ; source of public welfare ; it 
 is established on foundations henceforth immovable ; never- 
 theless, it is violated, this Equality, and in the most revolt- 
 ing manner, by the vile remains of tyranny, by the prisoners 
 in the Tower of the Temple. Could they still, those abomi- 
 nable remains, be of any account under present circum- 
 stances, it could be only from the interest the country has 
 
 1 Madame ^fcliaabeth's Life in the Temple, being recorded only by her 
 niece and by Clery, will be found later, in their narratives. — Tr. 
 
1793] MADAME lELISABETH DE FRANCE. 91 
 
 in preventing them from rending her bosom, and renew- 
 ing the atrocities committed by the two monsters who gave 
 them birth. If, therefore, such is the sole interest of the 
 Eepublic in respect to them, it is beneath her sole surveil- 
 lance that they ought to be placed. We are no longer in 
 those horrible days when a Liberticide faction (on whom 
 the blade of the law has already done justice) assumed, as a 
 means of vengeance against a patriotic Commune which it 
 abhorred, a responsibility which outraged all laws, and has 
 weighed for more than fifteen months on every member of 
 the Commune of Paris. 
 
 " Keason, justice, equality cry to you, legislators, to make 
 that responsibility cease. 
 
 " And as it is more than time to return to their regular work 
 two hundred and fifty sans-culottes, now unjustly employed 
 in guarding the prisoners of the Temple, the Commune of 
 Paris expects of your wisdom : — 
 
 " 1st, That you will send the infamous !&lisabeth before the 
 Eevolutionary tribunal at the earliest moment. 
 
 " 2d, That in regard to the posterity of the tyrant you will 
 take prompt measures to transfer them to a prison chosen by 
 you, there to be locked up with suitable precautions and 
 treated by the system of equality in the same manner as all 
 other prisoners whom the Eepublic has need to secure. 
 
 " Drouy, Eenard, Le Cleec, 
 Legeand, Dokigny." 
 
 Eeferred to the Committee on Public Safety, this petition 
 slumbered there for six months, but it was not forgotten in 
 that hotbed of the Eevolution. 
 
 Madame Elisabeth had, from the hour that she left Mon- 
 treuil, expressed the resolution to share the trials and the 
 perils of her brother and his family. She kept that resolu- 
 
92 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. hi. 
 
 tion : at Versailles on the 6th of October ; in Paris, through 
 years of gloomy solitude in the Tuileries ; on the road to and 
 from Varennes ; on that day of evil omen, the 20th of June ; 
 on the bloody night of the 10th of August ; in the box at the 
 Assembly, facing insults and threats ; in the Tower of the 
 Temple, witness and actor in those heart-rending farewells. 
 Yes, she kept all the promises she made to God, and God 
 was now about to keep all his to her : strength and faithful- 
 ness unto death were hers, and pity passes from our minds 
 as we read of these last scenes, so all-triumphant are they. 
 
 In a pouring rain she was taken on foot across the garden 
 and courtyard of the Temple, placed in a hackney-coach, and 
 driven to the Conciergerie, May 9, 1794. It was then eight 
 o'clock in the evening. At ten she was taken to the council 
 hall of the Eevolutionary tribunal, and there subjected to her 
 first examination before Gabriel Deliege, judge, Fouquier- 
 Tinville, prosecutor, and Ducray, clerk.^ 
 
 After placing her signature with that of the three men at 
 the foot of each page of her indictment, Madame Elisabeth 
 was taken back to prison. She made herself no illusions as 
 to the fate that awaited her. She knew it would be in vain to 
 ask for the help of a Catholic priest ; she resigned herself 
 to that deprivation, and offered direct to God the sacrifice of 
 her life, drawing from her living faith the strength to make 
 that sacrifice worthily. She was alone; no human help 
 could reach her. It is said that, unknown to her, a lawyer, 
 M. Chauveau-Lagarde, hearing of her arraignment, went to the 
 prison to offer himself for her defence. He was not permitted 
 to see her. He appealed to Fouquier-TinviUe, who replied : 
 " You cannot see her to-day ; there is no hurry ; she will not 
 be tried yet." Nevertheless, spurred by a vague anxiety, M. 
 Chauveau-Lagarde went the next morning to the assize court, 
 
 1 See Appendix II. 
 
1793] MADAME ifeLISABETH DE FRANCE. 93 
 
 and there, according to his presentiment, was Madame Elisa- 
 beth seated, among twenty-four other prisoners, on the upper 
 bench, where they had placed her that she might be conspic- 
 uously in view of every one. It was then impossible to confer 
 with her, and she was ignorant that one man stood in that 
 court seeking to defend her.i 
 
 Ken^-Fran9ois Dumas, president of the Kevolutionary 
 tribunal, opened the session ; Gabriel Deli^ge and Antoine- 
 Marie, judges, were seated beside him. 
 
 Gilbert Liendon, deputy public prosecutor, read the 
 accusation; Charles-Adrien Legris, clerk, wrote down the 
 examination. 
 
 The jurors, to the number of fifteen, were the following 
 citizens [names given]. 
 
 The Indictment. 
 
 " Antoine-Quentin Fouquier, Public Prosecutor of the 
 Revolutionary Tribunal, established in Paris by the decree 
 of the National Assembly, March 10, 1793, year Two of the 
 Republic, without recourse to any Court of Appeal, in virtue 
 of the power given him by article 2 of another decree of the 
 said Convention given on the 5th of April following, to the 
 effect that Hhe Public Prosecutor of said Tribunal is au- 
 thorized to arrest, try, and judge, on the denunciation of the 
 constituted authorities, or of citizens,' — 
 
 " Herewith declares that the following persons have been, 
 
 by various decrees of the Committee of general safety of the 
 
 Convention, of the Revolutionary committees of the different 
 
 sections of Paris, and of the department of the Yonne, and 
 
 by virtue of warrants of arrest issued by the said Public 
 
 Prosecutor, denounced to this Tribunal: — 
 
 1 The following account of the proceedings is taken from the official 
 report in the " Moniteur." 
 
94 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. hi. 
 
 " 1st, Marie Elisabeth Capet, sister of Louis Capet, the last 
 tyrant of the French, aged thirty, and born at Versailles." 
 
 [Then follow the names and description of twenty-four 
 other prisoners.] 
 
 " And, also, that it is to the family of the Capets that the 
 French people owe all the evils under the weight of which 
 they have groaned for so many centuries. 
 
 " It was at the moment when excessive oppression forced 
 the people to break their chains, that this whole family 
 united to plunge them into a slavery more cruel than that 
 from which they were tryrug to emerge. The crimes of all 
 kinds, the guilty deeds of Capet, of the Messalina Antoi- 
 nette, of the two brothers Capet, and of Elisabeth, are too 
 well known to make it necessary to repaint here the hor- 
 rible picture. They are written in letters of blood upon the 
 annals of the Eevolution; and the unheard-of atrocities 
 exercised by the barbarous emigres and the sanguinary Satel- 
 lites of despots, the murders, the iucendiarisms, the ravages, 
 the assassinations unknown to the most ferocious monsters 
 which they have committed on French territory, are still 
 commanded by that detestable family, in order to deliver 
 a great nation once more to the despotism and fury of a 
 few individuals. 
 
 " Elisabeth has shared all those crimes ; she has co-operated 
 in all the plots, the conspiracies formed by her infamous 
 brothers, by the wicked and impure Antoinette, and by the 
 horde of conspirators collected around them ; she associated 
 herself with their projects ; she encouraged the assassins of 
 the nation, the plots of July, one thousand seven hundred 
 and eighty-nine, the conspiracy of the 6th of October fol- 
 lowing, of which the d'Estaings, the Villeroys, and others, 
 
1793] MADAME i^LISABETH DE FRANCE. 95 
 
 who have now been struck hy the blade of the law, were 
 the agents, — in short, the whole uninterrupted chain of 
 conspiracies, lasting four whole years, were followed and 
 seconded by all the means which Elisabeth had in her 
 power. It was she who in the month of June, 1791, sent 
 diamonds, the property of the nation, to the infamous 
 d'Artois, her brother, to put him in a condition to exe- 
 cute projects concerted with him, and to hire assassins of 
 the nation. It was she who maintained with her other 
 brother, now become an object of derision and contempt 
 to the coalized Powers on whom he imposed his imbecile 
 and ponderous nullity, a most active correspondence ; it was 
 she who chose by the most insulting pride and disdain to 
 degrade and humiliate the free men who consecrated their 
 time to guarding the tyrant ; it was she who lavished atten- 
 tions on the assassins, sent to the Champs Elysees by the 
 despot to provoke the brave Marseillais; it was she who 
 stanched the wounds they received in their precipitate 
 flight. 
 
 "Elisabeth meditated with Capet and Antoinette the 
 massacre of the citizens of Paris on the immortal day of the 
 10th of August. She watched all night hoping to witness 
 the nocturnal carnage. She helped the barbarous Antoi- 
 nette to bite the cartridges ; she encouraged by her lan- 
 guage, young girls whom fanatical priests had brought to 
 the ch§,teau for that horrible occupation. Finally, disap- 
 pointed in the hope of all this horde of conspirators, 
 namely, — that the citizens who came to overthrow tyranny 
 would be massacred, — she fled in the morning, with the 
 tyrant and his wife, and went to await in the temple of 
 National sovereignty that the horde of slaves, paid and 
 committed to the crimes of that parricide Court, should 
 drown Liberty in the blood of citizens and cut the throats 
 
96 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. hi. 
 
 of its representatives among whom she had sought a 
 refuge. 
 
 " Finally, we have seen her, since the well-deserved pun- 
 ishment of the most guilty of the tyrants who have ever 
 dishonoured human nature, promoting the re-establishment 
 of tyranny by lavishing, with Antoinette, on the son of 
 Capet homage to royalty and the pretended honours of a 
 king." 
 
 The president, in presence of the auditory composed as 
 aforesaid, then put to the said jurors, each individually, the 
 following oath : — 
 
 " Citizen, you swear and promise to examine with the most 
 scrupulous attention the charges brought against the accused 
 persons, here present before you ; to communicate with no 
 one until after you declare your verdict ; to listen to neither 
 hatred nor malignity, fear, nor affection ; to decide according 
 to the charges and the means of defence, and according to 
 your confidence and inward conviction, with the impartiality 
 and firmness which becomes free men." 
 
 After swearing the said oath, the said jurors took their 
 seats in the centre of the audience chamber, facing the ac- 
 cused and the witnesses. 
 
 The president told the accused that they might sit down : 
 after which he asked their names, age, profession, residence, 
 and place of birth, beginning with Madame Elisabeth. 
 
 Q. What is your name ? 
 
 A. Elisabeth-Marie. 
 
 [The report in the " Moniteur " does not say, but a large 
 number of persons present have declared that Madame 
 Elisabeth answered: "I am named Elisabeth-Marie de 
 France, sister of Louis XVI., aunt of Louis XVII., your 
 king."] 
 
 Q. Your age? A. Thirty. 
 
1793] MADAME :feLISABETH DE FRANCE. 97 
 
 Q. Where were you born ? A, Versailles. 
 Q. Where do you live ? A. Paris. 
 
 The president then put the following questions to Madame 
 Elisabeth : 
 
 Q. Where were you on the 12th, 13th, and 14th of July, 
 1789, that is, at the period of the first plots of the Court 
 against the people ? 
 
 A. I was in the bosom of my family. I knew of no plots 
 such as you speak of. I was far from foreseeing or second- 
 ing those events. 
 
 Q. At the time of the flight of the tyrant, your brother, to 
 Varennes did you not accompany him ? 
 
 A. All things commanded me to follow my brother; I 
 made it my duty on that occasion, as on all others. 
 
 Q. Did you not figure in the infamous and scandalous orgy 
 of the Gardes-du-corps, and did you not make the circuit of 
 the table with Marie-Antoinette and induce each guest to 
 repeat the shocking oath to exterminate the patriots, to 
 smother liberty at its birth, and re-establish the tottering 
 throne ? 
 
 A. I am absolutely ignorant if the orgy mentioned took 
 place ; and I declare that I was never in any way informed 
 of it. 
 
 Q. You do not tell the truth, and your denial is not of any 
 use to you, because it is contradicted on one side by public 
 notoriety, and on the other by the likelihood, which con- 
 vinces every man of sense, that a woman so closely allied as 
 you were with Marie-Antoinette, both by ties of blood and 
 those of intimate friendship, could not avoid sharing her 
 machinations and helping with all your power; you did 
 therefore, necessarily, and in accord with the wife of the 
 tyrant, instigate the abominable oath taken by the satellites 
 
 7 
 
98 LITE AND LETTERS OF [chap. hi. 
 
 of the Court to assassinate and annihilate liberty at its 
 birth; also you instigated the bloody outrages done to 
 that precious sign of liberty, the tri-colour cockade, by 
 ordering your accomplices to trample it under foot. 
 
 A. I have already declared that all those acts are unknown 
 to me ; I have no other answer. 
 
 Q. Where were you on the 10th of August ? 
 
 A. I was in the chateau, my usual and natural residence 
 for some time past. 
 
 Q. Did you not pass the night of the 9th and 10th in your 
 brother's room ; and did you not have secret conferences 
 with him which explained to you the object and motive 
 of all the movements and preparations which were being 
 made before your eyes ? 
 
 A. I spent the night you speak of in my brother's room ; 
 I did not leave him ; he had much confidence in me ; and 
 yet I never remarked anything in his conduct or in his 
 conversation which announced to me what happened 
 later. 
 
 Q. Your answer wounds both truth and probability ; a 
 woman like you, who has manifested through the whole 
 course of the Eevolution so striking an opposition to the 
 present order of things, cannot be believed when she tries 
 to make us think that she was ignorant of the cause of 
 those assemblages of all kinds in the chateau on the eve 
 of the 10th of August. Will you tell us what prevented you 
 from going to bed on the night of the 9th and 10th of 
 August ? 
 
 A. I did not go to bed because the constituted bodies 
 had come to tell my brother of the agitation, the excitement 
 of the inhabitants of Paris, and the dangers that might re- 
 sult from it. 
 
 Q. You dissimulate in vain : especially after the various 
 
1793] MADAME ifeLISABETH DE FRANCE. 99 
 
 confessions of tlie widow Capet, who stated that you took 
 part in the orgy of the Gardes-du-corps, that you supported 
 her under her fears and alarms on the 10th of August as to 
 the life of Capet. But what you deny fruitlessly is the 
 active part you took in the conflict that ensued between the 
 patriots and the satellites of tyranny ; it is your zeal and 
 ardour in serving the enemies of the people, in supplying 
 them with cartridges, which you took pains to bite, because 
 they were directed against patriots and intended to mow 
 them down ; it is the desire you have publicly expressed that 
 victory should belong to the power and partisans of your 
 brother, and the encouragement of all kinds which you have 
 given to the murderers of your country. What answer have 
 you to these last facts ? 
 
 A. All those acts imputed to me are unworthy deeds 
 with which I was very far from staining myself. 
 
 Q. At the time of the journey to Varennes did you not 
 precede the shameful evasion of the tyrant by the subtrac- 
 tion of the diamonds called crown diamonds, belonging then 
 to the nation, and did you not send them to d'Artois ? 
 
 A. Those diamonds were not sent to d'Artois ; I confined 
 myself to giving them into the hands of a trustworthy 
 person. 
 
 Q. Will you name the person with whom you deposited 
 those diamonds ? 
 
 A. M. de Choiseul was the person I selected to receive 
 that trust. 
 
 Q. What have become of the diamonds you say you 
 confided to Choiseul ? 
 
 A. I am absolutely ignorant of what was the fate of 
 those diamonds, not having had an opportunity to see M. de 
 Choiseul ; I have had no anxiety, nor have I concerned my- 
 self about them. 
 
 LofC. 
 
100 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. hi. 
 
 Q. You do not cease to lie on all the questions made to 
 you, and especially on the matter of the diamonds; for a 
 proces^erhal of September 12, 1792, drawn up with full 
 knowledge of the circumstances by the representatives of the 
 people at the time of the theft of those diamonds, proves, in a 
 manner that cannot be denied, that those diamonds were 
 sent to d'Artois. Have you not kept up a correspondence 
 with your brother, the ci-devant Monsieur ? 
 
 A. I do not remember having done so since it was 
 prohibited. 
 
 Q. Did you not yourself stanch and dress the wounds 
 of the assassins sent to the Champs Elys^es by your brother 
 against the brave Marseillais ? 
 
 A. I never knew that my brother did send assassins 
 against any one, no matter who. Although I gave succour 
 to some wounded men, humanity alone induced me to dress 
 their wounds ; I did not need to know the cause of their 
 ills to occupy myself with their relief. I make no merit of 
 this, and I cannot imagine that a crime can be made of it. 
 
 Q. It is difficult to reconcile the sentiments of humanity 
 in which you now adorn yourself with the cruel joy you 
 showed on seeing the torrents of blood that flowed on the 
 10th of August. All things justify us in believing that you 
 are humane to none but the murderers of the people, and 
 that you have all the ferocity of the most sanguinary ani- 
 mals for the defenders of liberty. Far from succouring the 
 latter you instigated their massacre by your applause ; far 
 from disarming the murderers of the people you gave them 
 with your own hands the instruments of death, by which 
 you flattered yourselves, you and your accomplices, that 
 tyranny and despotism would be restored. That is the hu- 
 manity of despots, who, from all time, have sacrificed mil- 
 lions of men to their caprices, to their ambition, and to their 
 
1793] MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE. 101 
 
 cupidity. The prisoner Elisabeth, whose plan of defence is 
 to deny all that is laid to her charge, will she have the sin- 
 cerity to admit that she nursed the little Capet in the hope 
 of succeeding to his father's throne, thus instigating to 
 royalty ? 
 
 A. I talked familiarly with that unfortunate child, who 
 was dear to me from more than one cause, and I gave him, in 
 consequence, all the consolations that I thought might com- 
 fort him for the loss of those who gave him birth. 
 
 Q. That is admitting, in other terms, that you fed the 
 little Capet with the projects of vengeance which you and 
 yours have never ceased to form against liberty ; and that 
 you flattered yourself to raise the fragments of a shattered 
 throne by soaking it in the blood of patriots. 
 
 The president then proceeded to the examination of the 
 other prisoners, confining himself to a few insignificant 
 questions. 
 
 [Here the " Moniteur," and after it historians, omit all 
 mention of the speech of Madame Elisabeth's defender, 
 thus leaving it to be supposed that no voice was raised in 
 her behalf. Though the trial was rapid, and all communi- 
 cation was prevented between her and her defender, it is a 
 known fact that Chauveau-Lagarde rose after the president 
 had ended Madame Elisabeth's examiuation, and made a 
 short plea, of which he has given us himself the substance : 
 
 "I called attention," he says, "to the fact that in this 
 trial there was only a bold accusation, without documents, 
 without examination, without witnesses, and that, conse- 
 quently, as there was in it no legal element of conviction 
 there could be no legal conviction at all. 
 
 " I added that they had nothing against the august prisoner 
 but her answers to the questions just put to her, and that 
 
102 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. hi. 
 
 those answers, far from condemning her, ought to honour her 
 to all eyes, because they proved absolutely nothing but the 
 goodness of her heart and the heroism of her friendship. 
 
 " Then after developing those ideas I ended by saying that 
 as there was no ground for a defence, I could only present 
 for Madame Elisabeth an apology, and even so, I found it 
 impossible to make more than one that was worthy of her, 
 namely : that a princess who had been a perfect model of 
 virtue at the Court of France could not be the enemy of 
 Frenchmen. 
 
 " It is impossible to paint the fury with which Dumas 
 apostrophized me; reproaching me for having had the 
 ' audacity to speak ' of what he called * the pretended virtue 
 of the accused, thus attempting to corrupt the public morals.' 
 It was easy to see that Madame Elisabeth, who until then 
 had remained calm, as if unconscious of her own danger, 
 was agitated by that to which I was exposing myself.] 
 
 The report in the " Moniteur " continues : — 
 After the Public Prosecutor and the defenders had been 
 heard, the president declared the debate closed. He then 
 summed up the cases and gave to the jury the following 
 written paper: — 
 
 " Plots and conspiracies have existed, formed by Capet, his 
 wife, his family, his agents and his accomplices, in conse- 
 quence of which external war on the part of a coalition of 
 tyrants has been provoked, also civil war in the interior has 
 been raised, succour in men and money have been f arnished 
 to the enemy, troops have been assembled, plans of campaign 
 have been made, and leaders appointed to murder the people, 
 annihilate liberty, and restore despotism. 
 
 " Is Elisabeth Capet an accomplice in these plots ? " 
 
 The jury, after a few moments' deliberation, returned to 
 
1793] MADAME ifeLISABETH DE FRANCE. 103 
 
 the audience chamber and gave an affirmative declaration 
 against Madame Elisabeth and the other prisoners [here 
 follow the names], who were then condemned to the Penalty 
 of Death. ... It was then ordered that, by the diligence 
 of the Public Prosecutor, the present judgment shall be ex- 
 ecuted within twenty-four hours on the Place de la E^volu- 
 tion of this city, and be printed, read, published, and posted 
 throughout the extent of the Eepublic. 
 
 As Madame Elisabeth left the Tribunal, Fouquier turned 
 to the president and said: "It must be owned she never 
 uttered a complaint." — " What has she to complain of, that 
 Elisabeth de Prance ? " replied Dumas, with ironical gaiety ; 
 " have n't we just given her a court of aristocrats who are 
 worthy of her ? There wiU. be nothing to prevent her from 
 fancying she is back in the salons of Versailles when she 
 finds herself at the foot of the guillotine surrounded by all 
 those faithful nobles." 
 
 When Madame Elisabeth returned to the prison she asked 
 to be taken to the common room, in which were the twenty- 
 four persons condemned to die with her on the morrow. 
 This room, long, narrow, and dark, was separated from the 
 office of the Conciergerie by a door and a glass partition. 
 It had no furniture but wooden benches fastened to the 
 walls. These, and the following details are given by two 
 eye-witnesses who happened to be in the room that night 
 though not among the number condemned to death.^ 
 
 1 One was Geoffroy Perry, who was there as usual to take an inventory 
 of the clothes and other articles on the condemned persons ; he gave these 
 details to his nephew, attached in 1825 to the ifecole des Beaux Arts, who 
 gave them to the author of the " Vie de Madame ifelisabeth." The other was 
 Marguerite, a maid in the service of the Marquis de Fenouil, imprisoned 
 in the Conciergerie for refusing to testify against her master. The same 
 author obtained these facts from her own lips in 1828. — Fe. Ed. 
 
104 LIFE AND LETTEES OF [chap. hi. 
 
 Joining the poor unfortunates, who were now in different 
 stages of agony and fear, Madame Elisabeth took her place 
 among them naturally. Such as she had been at Versailles 
 and at Montreuil in the midst of other friends, she was here, 
 forgetful of herself, mindful of them, and dropping into each 
 poor heart by simple words the balm of God's own com- 
 fort. She seemed to regard them as friends about to accom- 
 pany her to heaven. She spoke to them calmly and gently, 
 and soon the serenity of her look, the tranquillity of her 
 mind subdued their anguish. The Marquise de S^nozan, the 
 oldest of the twenty-four victims, was the first to recover 
 courage and offer to God the little that remained to her of 
 life. Madame de Montmorin, nearly all of whose family 
 had been massacred in the Eevolution, could not endure the 
 thought of the immolation of her son, twenty years of age, 
 who was doomed to die with her. " I am willing to die," she 
 said sobbing, " but I cannot see him die." — " You love your 
 son," said Madame Elisabeth, " and yet you do not wish him 
 to accompany you ; you are going yourself to the joys of 
 heaven and you want him to stay upon earth, where -all is 
 now torture and sorrow." Under the influence of those 
 words Mme. de Montmorin's heart rose to a species of 
 ecstasy, her fibres relaxed, her tears flowed, and clasping 
 her son in her arms, " Yes, yes ! " she cried," we will go 
 together." 
 
 M. de Lomdnie, former minister of war, and lately mayor 
 of Brienne, whom that town and its adjoining districts had 
 vainly endeavoured to save, was indignant with a species of 
 exaltation, not at being condemned to die, but at hearing 
 Fouquier impute to him as a crime the testimony of affection 
 and gratitude shown for him by his department. Madame 
 Elisabeth went to him and said gently: "If it is fine to 
 merit the esteem of your fellow-citizens, think how much 
 
1793] MADAME i:LISABETH DE FEANCE. 105 
 
 finer it is to merit the goodness of God. You have shown 
 your compatriots how to live rightly ; show them now how 
 men die when their conscience is at peace." 
 
 It sometimes happens that timid natures, the most suscep- 
 tible of fear in the ordinary course of life, will heroically 
 brave death when a great sentiment inspires them. Madame 
 Elisabeth's presence conveyed that inspiration. The Mar- 
 quise de Crussol-Amboise was so timid that she dared not 
 sleep without two women in her room ; a spider terrified her ; 
 the mere idea of an imaginary danger filled her with dread. 
 Madame Elisabeth's example transformed her suddenly ; she 
 grew calm and firm, and so remained till death. The same 
 species of emotion was conveyed to all the others. The calm 
 presence of Madame Elisabeth seemed to them in that ter- 
 rible hour as if illumined by a reflection from the Diviue. 
 " It is not exacted of us," she said, " as it was of the ancient 
 martyrs, that we sacrifice our beliefs ; all they ask of us is 
 the abandonment of our miserable lives. Let us make that 
 feeble sacrifice to God with resignation." 
 
 So, in these last moments of life a great joy was given to 
 her ; she revived the numbed or aching hearts, she restored 
 the vigour of their faith to fainting souls, she blunted the 
 sting of death, and brought to eyes despairing of earth, the 
 light of the true deliverance. 
 
 The next morning the gates of the prison opened and the 
 carts of the executioner, called by Barfere " the biers of the 
 living," came out. Madame Elisabeth was in the first with 
 others, among them Mme. de S^nozan and Mme. de Crussol- 
 -Amboise, to whom she talked during the passage from the 
 Conciergerie to the Place Louis XV. Arriving there, she 
 was the first to descend; the executioner offered his hand, 
 but the princess looked the other way and needed no help. 
 At the foot of the scaffold was a long bench on which the 
 
106 LIFE AND LETTEKS OF [chap. hi. 
 
 victims were told to sit. By a refinement of cruelty Ma- 
 dame Elisabeth was placed nearest the steps to the scaffold, 
 but she was the last of the twenty-five called to ascend 
 them ; she was to see and hear the killing of them all before 
 her turn should come. During that time she never ceased 
 to say the De ^rofundis ; she who was about to die prayed 
 for the dead. 
 
 The first to be called was Mme. de Crussol. She rose im- 
 mediately; as she passed Madame Elisabeth she curtsied, 
 and then, bending forward, asked to be allowed to kiss her. 
 "Willingly, and with all my heart," replied the princess. 
 All the other women, ten in number, did likewise. The 
 men, as they passed her, each bowed low the head that an 
 instant later was to fall into the basket. When the twenty- 
 fourth bowed thus before her, she said : " Courage, and faith 
 in God's mercy." Then she rose herself, to be ready at the 
 call of the executioner. She mounted firmly the steps of the 
 scaffold. Again the man offered his hand, but withdrew it, 
 seeing from her bearing that she needed no help. With an 
 upward look to heaven, she gave herself into the hands of 
 the executioner. As he fastened her to the fatal plank, her 
 neckerchief came loose and fell to the ground. " In the name 
 of yomr mother, monsieur, cover me," she said. Those were 
 her last words. 
 
 At this execution alone, no cries of " Vive la Eevolution ! " 
 were raised ; the crowd dispersed silently. The eye-witness 
 from whose lips this account was written down, added : 
 " When I saw the cart on which they were placing the bodies 
 and heads of the victims, I fled like the wind." The cart 
 held two baskets ; into one of which they threw the mound 
 of bodies; into the other the heap of heads. These were 
 taken to the cemetery at Mongeaux, and flung into a grave 
 twelve feet square, one upon another, naked, because the 
 
1793] MADAME ELISABETH DE ERANCE. 107 
 
 clothes were a perquisite of the State. In 1816, Louis 
 XVIII., wishing to give his sister Christian burial, ordered 
 a search to be made for her remains. The searchers 
 fancied they discovered her body, but her head was never 
 found. 
 
JOUENAL OF THE TOWEE OF THE TEMPLE 
 
 DUEING THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 By Cl^rt, 
 His Valet de Chamhre. 
 
PART SECOND, 
 JOURNAL OF THE TOWER OF THE TEMPLE 
 
 DUEING THE CAPTIVITY OP LOUIS XVI. 
 BY CLl^RY. 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 The 10th of August, 1792. — Clery permitted to serve the King and his 
 Family. — Life and Treatment of the Koyal Family in the Tower of the 
 Temple. 
 
 I SERVED the king and his august family five months in 
 the Tower of the Temple ; and in spite of the close watching 
 of the municipal officers who were the keepers of it, I was 
 able, either in writing or by other means, to take certain 
 notes on the principal events which took place in the interior 
 of that prison. 
 
 In combining these notes in the form of a journal, my 
 intention is more to furnish materials to those who may write 
 the history of the deplorable end of the unfortunate Louis 
 XVI. than to compose memoirs myself; for which I have 
 neither talent nor pretension. 
 
 Sole and continual witness of the injurious treatment the 
 king and his family were made to endure, I alone can write 
 it down and affirm the exact truth. 
 
 Though attached since the year 1782 to the royal family, 
 and witness, through the nature of my service, of the most 
 disastrous events during the course of the Revolution, it would 
 be going outside of my subject to describe them ; they are, 
 
112 MADAME :&LISABETH DE FEANCE. [chap. i. 
 
 for the most part, already collected in different works. I 
 shall begin this journal at the period of August 10, 1792, 
 dreadful day, when a few men overturned a throne of four- 
 teen centuries, put their king in fetters, and precipitated 
 France into an abyss of horrors. 
 
 I was on service with the dauphin at that period. From 
 the morning of the 9th the agitation in the minds of all was 
 extreme ; groups were forming throughout Paris, and we 
 heard with certainty in the Tuileries that the conspirators 
 had a plan. The tocsin was to ring at midnight in all parts 
 of the city, and the Marseillais, uniting with the inhabitants 
 of the faubourg Saint-Antoine, were to march at once and 
 besiege the chateau. Detained by my functions in the apart- 
 ment of the young prince and beside his person, I knew only 
 in part what was happening outside. I shall here relate 
 none but events which I witnessed during that day when so 
 many different scenes took place even in the palace. 
 
 On the evening of the 9th at half-past eight o'clock, hav- 
 ing put the dauphin to bed, I left the Tuileries to try to learn 
 what was the state of public opinion. The courtyards of the 
 chateau were filled with about eight thousand National guards 
 from the different sections, placed there to defend the king. 
 I went to the Palais-Eoyal, of which I found all the exits 
 closed ; National guards were there under arms, ready to 
 march to the Tuileries and support the battalions already 
 there ; but a populace, excited by factious persons, filled the 
 neighbouring streets, and its clamour resounded on all sides. 
 I re-entered the ch&teau towards eleven o'clock through 
 the king's apartments. The persons belonging to the Court, 
 and those on duty were collected there in a state of anxiety. 
 I passed on to the dauphin's apartment, where, an instant 
 later, I heard the tocsin rung and the genSrale beaten in all 
 quarters of Paris. I remained in the salon until five in the 
 
1792] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 113 
 
 morning with Mme. de Saint-Brice, waitiag-woman to the 
 young prince. At six o'clock the king went down into aU 
 the courtyards of the chateau and reviewed the National 
 Guard and the Swiss Guard, who swore to defend him. The 
 queen and her children followed the king. A few seditious 
 voices were heard in the ranks, but they were soon smothered 
 by the shouts, repeated hundreds of times, of " Vive le roi ! 
 Vive la nation ! " 
 
 The attack on the Tuileries not seeming near as yet, I went 
 out a second time and followed the quays as far as the Pont 
 Neuf. I met everywhere collections of armed men whose 
 bad intentions were not doubtful ; they carried pikes, pitch- 
 forks, axes, and pruning-hooks. The battalion of the Mar- 
 seillais marched in fine order with cannon, matches lighted ; 
 they invited the people to follow them " to aid," they said, 
 " in dislodging the tyrant and proclaiming his dethronement 
 before the National Assembly." Too certain now of what 
 was going to happen, but consulting only my duty, I went 
 ahead of this battalion and re-entered the Tuileries. A 
 numerous body of National guards were pouring out in dis- 
 order through the gate of the gardens opposite the Pont-Eoyal. 
 Distress was painted on the faces of most of them. Several 
 said : " We swore this morning to defend the king, and at 
 the moment when he runs the greatest danger we abandon 
 him ! " Others, on the side of the conspirators insulted and 
 threatened their comrades and forced them to go away. The 
 good men let themselves be ruled by the seditious ; and this 
 culpable weakness, which, so far, had produced all the evils of 
 the Eevolution, was the beginning of the misfortunes of that 
 fatal day. 
 
 After many fruitless attempts to re-enter the chateau, I 
 was recognized by the Swiss Guard of one of the gates, and 
 I succeeded in entering. I went at once to the king's apart- 
 
 8 
 
114 MADAME Elisabeth de feance. [chap. i. 
 
 ment, and begged that some one on service would inform His 
 Majesty of what I had seen and heard. 
 
 At seven o'clock, anxiety was greatly increased by the 
 baseness of several battalions which successively abandoned 
 the Tuileries. Those of the National Guard who remained 
 at their post, in number about four or five hundred, showed 
 as much fidelity as courage. They were placed, indiscrimin- 
 ately with the Swiss, about the interior of the palace, on the 
 staircases, and at all the exits. These troops had passed the 
 night without food ; I hastened, with other servants of the 
 king, to carry them bread and wine, and encourage them not 
 to abandon the royal family. It was then that the king 
 gave the command of the interior of his palace to the Mar^- 
 chal de Mailly, the Due du Chatelet, the Comte de Puys^gur, 
 the Baron de Viomesnil, the Count d'Hervilly, the Marquis 
 du Pajet, etc. The persons of the Court, and those on ser- 
 vice were distributed into the different rooms, after swearing 
 to defend till death the person of the king. We were, in all, 
 about three or four hundred, but without other arms than 
 swords and pistols. 
 
 At eight o'clock the danger became pressing. The Legis- 
 lative Assembly held its meetings in the Eiding-school, which 
 looked upon the garden of the Tuileries. The king sent sev- 
 eral messages informing it of the position in which he was 
 placed, and inviting it to appoint a deputation which would 
 aid him with advice. The Assembly, although the attack on 
 the chateau was preparing before its eyes, made no reply. 
 
 A few moments later the department of Paris and several 
 municipals entered the ch§,teau, with Eoederer, then prosecu- 
 tor-general, at their head. Eoederer, doubtless in collusion 
 with the conspirators, urged His Majesty eagerly to go with 
 his family to the Assembly ; he assured the king that he 
 could no longer rely on the National Guard, and that if he 
 
1792] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 115 
 
 remained in the palace, neither the department nor the muni- 
 cipality of Paris would be answerable for his safety. 
 
 The king listened without emotion ; he retired to his cham- 
 ber with the queen, the mitiisters, and a small number of 
 persons ; and, soon after, came out of it to go with his family 
 to the Assembly. He was surrounded by a detachment of 
 the Swiss and the National Guard. Of all the persons on 
 duty, the Priacesse de Lamballe and Mme. de Tourzel were 
 the only ones who had permission to follow the royal family. 
 Mme. de Tourzel was obliged, in order that the young prince 
 might not go unattended, to leave her daughter, seventeen 
 years of age, in the Tuileries among the soldiers. It was 
 then nearly nine o'clock. 
 
 Forced .to remain in the apartments, I waited with terror 
 the results of the king's action ; I was near the windows that 
 looked into the garden. It was more than an hour after the 
 royal family had entered the Assembly, when I saw on the 
 terrace of the Feuillants four heads on pikes which were 
 being carried towards the Assembly. That was, I think, the 
 signal for the attack on the chateau, for, at the same moment, 
 a terrible fire of cannon and musketry was heard. The balls 
 and the bullets riddled the palace. The king no longer 
 being there, every one thought of his own safety ; but all the 
 exits were closed and certain death awaited us. I ran hither 
 and thither ; already the apartments and the staircases were 
 heaped with dead ; I determined to spring upon the terrace 
 through one of the windows of the queen's apartment. I 
 crossed the parterre rapidly to reach the Pont-Tournant. A 
 number of the Swiss Guard who had preceded me were rally- 
 ing under the trees. Placed thus, between two fires, I re- 
 turned upon my steps to reach the new stairway to the 
 terrace on the water-side. I meant to jump upon the quay, 
 but a continual fire from the Pont-Eoyal prevented me. I 
 
116 MADAME :fcLISABETH DE FRANCE. [chap. i. 
 
 went along the same side to tlie gate of the dauphin's gar- 
 den ; there, some Marseillais who had just massacred several 
 Swiss were stripping the bodies. One of them came to me. 
 " What, citizen," he said, " have you no arms ? Take this 
 sword and help us to kill." Another Marseillais snatched 
 the weapon. I was, in fact, without arms and wearing a 
 plain coat ; had anything indicated that I was on service in 
 the palace, I should certainly not have escaped. 
 
 Several Swiss, being pursued, took refuge in a stable not 
 far off. I myself hid there ; the Swiss were soon massacred 
 at my side. Hearing the cries of those unhappy victims, the 
 master of the house, M. le Dreux, rushed in. I profited by 
 that moment to slip into his house. Without knowing me, 
 M. le Dreux and his wife asked me to remain until the 
 danger was over. 
 
 I had in my pocket some letters and newspapers ad- 
 dressed to the young prince; also my entrance-card to the 
 Tuileries, on which was written my name and the nature of 
 my service ; these papers would have made me known. I 
 had barely time to throw them away before an armed 
 troop searched the house to make sure that no Swiss were 
 hidden there. M. le Dreux told me to pretend to be 
 working at some drawings lying on a large table. After 
 a fruitless search, the men, their hands stained with blood, 
 stopped to coldly relate their murders. I remained in that 
 asylum from ten in the morning till four in the afternoon, 
 having before my eyes the horrors committed on the Place 
 Louis XV. Some men murdered, others cut off the heads 
 of the bodies, women, forgetting all decency, mutilated the 
 bodies, tore off the fragments, and carried them in triumph. 
 
 During this interval, Mme. de Eambaut, waiting-woman 
 to the dauphin, who had with difficulty escaped from the 
 massacre at the Tuileries, came to take refuge in the same 
 
1792] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. II7 
 
 house ; a few signs that we made to each other enjoined 
 silence. The sons of our host, coming in at that moment 
 from the National Assembly, informed us that the king, 
 " suspended from his functions," was closely guarded, with 
 the royal family, in the box of the reporter of the " Logo- 
 graphe," and that it was impossible to approach him. 
 
 That beiug so, I resolved to go to my wife and children, 
 in a country place, five leagues from Paris, where I had 
 had a house for two years; but the barriers were closed, 
 and, moreover, I could not abandon Mme. de Eambaut. 
 We agreed to take the route to Versailles, where she lived ; 
 the sons of our host accompanied us. We crossed the 
 bridge, Louis XY., which was covered with naked dead 
 bodies, already putrefying in the great heat, and after many 
 dangers we left Paris through a breach which was not 
 guarded. 
 
 On the plain of Grenelle, we were met by peasants on 
 horseback, who shouted at us from a distance, and threat- 
 ened us with their guns : " Stop, or death ! " One of them, 
 taking me for a guard, aimed and was about to shoot me, 
 when another proposed to take us to the municipality of 
 Vaugirard. "There is already a score of them there," he 
 said; "the kiUing will be all the greater." Pteaching the 
 municipality, our host's sons were recognized: the mayor 
 questioned me : " Why, when the country is in danger, . 
 are you not where you belong? Why are you leaving 
 Paris ? That shows bad intentions." " Yes, yes," cried the 
 populace, " to prison, those aristocrats, to prison ! " " It is 
 precisely because I am on my way to where I belong, that 
 you find me on the road to Yersailles, where I live ; that is 
 my post just as much as this is yours." They questioned 
 Mme. de Eambaut; our host assured them we spoke the 
 truth, and they gave us passports. I ought to render thanks 
 
118 MADAME IjLISABETH DE EKANCE. [chap. i. 
 
 to Providence for not having been taken to the prison of 
 Vaugirard ; where they had just put twenty-three of the 
 king's guards, who were afterwards taken to the Abbaye 
 and massacred there, on the 2d of September. 
 
 From Vaugirard to Versailles, patrols of armed men 
 stopped us contiQually to examine our passports. I took 
 Mme. Kambaut to her parents, and then started to return to 
 my family. A fall I had in jumping from the window of 
 the Tuileries, the fatigue of a tramp of twelve leagues, and 
 my painful reflections on the deplorable events which had 
 just taken place, overcame me to such a degree that I had 
 a very high fever. I was in bed three days, but, impatient 
 to know the fate of the king, I surmounted my illness and 
 returned to Paris. 
 
 On arriving there I heard that the royal family, after 
 being kept since the 10th at the Peuillants, had just been 
 taken to the Temple ; that the king had chosen to serve 
 him M. de Chamilly, his head valet de chamhre, and that 
 M. Hue, usher of the king's bedchamber, was to serve the 
 dauphin. The Princesse de Lamballe, Mme. de Tourzel, 
 and her daughter. Mile. Pauline de Tourzel, had accom- 
 panied the queen. Mmes. Thibaut, Bazire, Navarre, and 
 Saint-Brice, waiting-women, had followed the three prin- 
 cesses and the young prince. 
 
 I then lost all hope of continuing my functions towards 
 the dauphin, and I was about to return to the country 
 when, on the sixth day of the king's imprisonment, I was 
 informed that all the persons who were in the Tower with 
 the royal family, had been removed, and, after examination 
 before the council of the Commune of Paris, were consigned 
 to the prison of La Force, with the sole exception of M. 
 Hue, who was taken back to the Temple to serve the king. 
 Potion, then mayor of Paris, was charged with the duty of 
 
1792] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 119 
 
 selecting two others. Learning of these arrangements, I 
 resolved to try every possible means to resume my place 
 in the service of the young prince. I went to see Potion ; 
 he told me that as I had belonged to the household of the 
 king, I could not obtain the consent of the Commune. I 
 cited M. Hue, who had just been sent by the council itself, 
 to serve the king. Potion promised to support a memorial 
 which I gave him, but I told him it was necessary above 
 all, that he should inform the king of this step. Two days 
 later, he wrote to His Majesty as follows : — 
 
 " Sire, — The valet de chambre attached to the prince-royal 
 from infancy asks to be allowed to continue his service with 
 him ; as I think the proposal will be agreeable to you, I 
 have acceded to his request," etc. 
 
 His Majesty answered in writing that he accepted me for 
 the service of his son, and, in consequence, I was taken to 
 the Temple. There, I was searched ; they gave me advice 
 as to the manner in which, they said, I must conduct my- 
 self ; and the same day, August 26, at eight in the evening, 
 I entered the Tower of the Temple. 
 
 It would be difficult for me to describe the impression 
 made upon me by the sight of that august and unfortunate 
 family. The queen was the one who spoke to me. After a 
 few words of kindness, she added : " You will serve my son, 
 and you will arrange with M. Hue in all that concerns 
 us." I was so oppressed with feelings that I could scarcely 
 answer her. 
 
 During the supper, the queen and the princesses, who had 
 been a week without their women, asked me if I could comb 
 their hair ; I replied that I would do whatever they desired 
 of me. A municipal officer thereupon came up to me, and 
 told me to be more circumspect in my answers. I was 
 frightened at such a beginning. 
 
120 MADAME :feLISABETH DE FEANCE. [chap. i. 
 
 During the first eight days that I passed in the Temple, I 
 had no communication with the exterior. M. Hue was alone 
 charged with asking for and receiving the things necessary 
 for the royal family ; I served conjointly and indiscrimi- 
 nately with him. My service to the king was confined to 
 dressing his hair in the morning and rolling it at night ; I 
 noticed that I was watched incessantly by the municipal 
 officers ; a mere nothing displeased them ; I kept on my 
 guard to avoid any imprudence, which would infallibly have 
 ruined me. 
 
 On the 2d of September, there was much disturbance 
 around the Temple. The king and his family went down 
 as usual to walk in the garden ; a municipal who followed the 
 king said to one of his colleagues : " We did wrong to con- 
 sent to let them walk this afternoon." I had noticed all that 
 morning the uneasiness of the commissioners. They now 
 hurried the royal family into the building ; but they were 
 scarcely assembled in the queen's room before two municipal 
 officers who were not on duty at the Tower entered. One of 
 them, Matthieu, an ex-capucin friar, said to the king : " You 
 are ignorant of what is going on; the country is in the great- 
 est danger; the enemy has entered Champagne; the King 
 of Prussia is marching on Chalons ; you are answerable for 
 all the harm that will come of it. We, our wives and 
 children, may perish, but you first, before us; the people 
 will be avenged." — "I have done all for the people," said 
 the king ; " I have nothing to reproach myself with." 
 
 This same Matthieu said to M. Hue : " The Council has 
 ordered me to put you under arrest." " Who ? " asked 
 the king. " Your valet de chamhre." The king wished to 
 know of what crime he was accused, but could learn noth- 
 ing, which made him very uneasy as to M. Hue's fate ; he 
 recommended him earnestly to the two municipal officers. 
 
1792] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 121 
 
 They put the seals on the little room he had occupied, and 
 he went away with them at six o'clock in the evening after 
 having passed twenty days in the Temple. As he went out, 
 Matthieu said to me : " Take care how you behave, or the 
 same thing may happen to you." 
 
 The king called me a moment after, and gave me some 
 papers which M. Hue had returned to him ; they were ac- 
 counts of expenditures. The uneasy air of the municipals, 
 the clamour of the people in the neighbourhood of the 
 Tower, agitated his heart cruelly. After he had gone to bed, 
 he told me to pass the night beside him ; I placed a bed be- 
 side that of His Majesty. 
 
 On the 3d of September, while I was dressing the king, 
 he asked me if I had heard anything of M. Hue, and if I 
 knew any news of Paris. 1 answered that during the night 
 I had heard a municipal say that the people were attacking 
 the prisons, and that I would try to get more information. 
 " Take care not to compromise yourself," said the king, " for 
 then we should be left alone, and I fear their intention is to 
 surround us with strangers." 
 
 At eleven o'clock that morning, the king being with his 
 family in the queen's room, a mimicipal told me to go into 
 that of the king, where I should find Manuel and several 
 members of the Commune. Manuel asked me what the 
 king had said about M. Hue's removal. I answered that 
 His Majesty was uneasy at it. "Nothing will happen to 
 him," he said, " but I am ordered to inform the king that he 
 will not return, and that the Council wUl put some one in 
 his place. You can warn the king of this." I begged him 
 to excuse me from doing so ; I added that the king desired 
 to see him in regard to many things, of which the royal fam- 
 ily was in the greatest need. Manuel, with difficulty, made 
 up his mind to go into the room where His Majesty was ; he 
 
122 MADAME I:LISABETH DE FKANCE. [chap. i. 
 
 then told Mm of the decision of the Council, in relation to 
 M. Hue, and warned him that another person would be sent. 
 " I thank you," replied the king, " but I shall use the ser- 
 vices of my son's valet de chamh-e, and if the Council op- 
 poses it, I shall serve myself. I am resolved on this." 
 Manuel said he would speak of it to the Council, and 
 retired. I asked him, as I showed him out, if the disturb- 
 ances in Paris continued. He made me fear by his answers 
 that the people would attack the Temple. " You are charged 
 with a difficult duty," he added. " I exhort you to courage." 
 
 At one o'clock the king and his family expressed a wish 
 to take their walk ; it was refused. During dinner the noise 
 of drums and the shouts of the populace were heard. The 
 royal family left the dinner table in a state of anxiety, and 
 again collected in the queen's room. I went down to dine 
 with Tison and his wife, who were employed as servants in 
 the Tower. 
 
 We were hardly seated before a head at the end of a pike 
 was presented at the window. Tison's wife screamed loudly ; 
 the murderers thought it was the queen's voice, and we heard 
 the frantic laughs of those barbarians. Thinking that Her 
 Majesty was still at table, they had raised the victim's head 
 so that it could not escape her sight ; it was that of the Prin- 
 cesse de Lamballe. Though bloody, it was not disfigured ; 
 her blond hair, still curling, floated around the pike. 
 
 I ran at once to the king. Terror had so changed my face 
 that the queen noticed it ; it was important to hide the cause 
 from her ; I meant to warn the king and Madame Elisabeth ; 
 but the two municipals were present. " Why do you not go 
 to dinner ? " asked the queen. " Madame," I answered, " I do 
 not feel well." At that moment a municipal entered the 
 room and spoke mysteriously with his colleagues. The 
 king asked if his family were in safety. "There is a 
 
/4^& <_.X^/>;^2^?<e-ti<i^<e' 
 
 <;^ ,=,^<^:S^;^2yOh(Z-i 
 
1792] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 123 
 
 rumour going," they replied, " that you and your family are 
 no longer in the Tower; the people want you to appear at 
 the window, but we shall not allow it ; the people ought to 
 show more confidence in their magistrates." 
 
 The cries and shouts outside increased; we heard, very 
 distinctly, insults addressed to the queen. Another munici- 
 pal came in, followed by four men deputed by the people to 
 make sure that the king and his family were in the Tower. 
 One of them, in the uniform of the National Guard, wearing 
 two epaulets and carrying a large sabre, insisted that the pris- 
 oners should show themselves at the window. The munici- 
 pals opposed it. The man then said to the queen in the 
 coarsest tone: "They want to prevent your seeing the 
 LambaUe's head, which has been brought here to show you 
 how the people avenge themselves on tyrants ; I advise you 
 to appear." The queen fainted ; I ran to her support ; Ma- 
 dame Elisabeth helped me to place her in an arm-chair ; her 
 children burst into tears and tried by their caresses to bring 
 her to. The man did not go away ; the king said to him 
 firmly: "We expect everything, monsieur; but you might 
 have refrained from telling the queen of that dreadful 
 thing." The man then went out with his comrades ; their 
 object was accomplished. 
 
 The queen, recovering her senses, wept with her children, 
 and passed with the family into the room of Madame Elisa- 
 beth, where less was heard of the clamours of the populace. 
 I remained a moment longer in the queen's room, and, look- 
 ing out of the window through the blinds, I saw the head of 
 Madame de Lamballe a second time ; the man who carried 
 it had mounted a pile of rubbish, fallen from the houses they 
 were demolishing to isolate the Tower ; another man beside 
 him carried the bloody heart of the unfortunate princess. 
 They wanted to force in the door of the Tower ; a municipal, 
 
124 MADAME :feLISABETH DE FEANCE. [chap. i. 
 
 named Daujeon, harangued them, and I very distinctly- 
 heard him say: "The head of Antoinette does not belong 
 to you ; the department has rights ; France confided the 
 keeping of these great criminals to the city of Paris; it 
 is for you to help us to keep them until national justice 
 avenges the people." It was only after one hour's resistance 
 that he succeeded in making them go away. 
 
 On the evening of the same day one of the commissioners 
 told me that the populace had attempted to enter with the 
 deputation, and to carry into the tower the naked and bloody 
 corpse of Madame de Lamballe, which they had dragged from 
 the prison of La Force to the Temple ; he said that the mu- 
 nicipals, after struggling for some time with the mob, finally 
 opposed them by tying a tri-colour ribbon across the prin- 
 cipal entrance to the Tower ; that they had vainly requested 
 the help of the Commune of Paris, of General Santerre, and 
 of the National Assembly, to stop designs which were not 
 concealed, and that for six hours it was uncertain whether 
 the royal family would or would not be massacred. The 
 truth is the factious were not yet all-powerful ; the leaders, 
 though agreed as to the regicide, were not agreed as to the 
 method of executing it, and perhaps the Assembly desired 
 that other hands than its own should be the instrument of 
 the conspiracy. A circumstance sufficiently remarkable is 
 that the municipal made me pay him forty sous which the 
 tri-colour ribbon had cost him. 
 
 By eight o'clock that evening all was quiet in the neigh- 
 bourhood of the Tower, but the same tranquillity was very 
 far from reigning in Paris, where the massacres continued 
 for four or five days. I had an opportunity while undress- 
 ing the king to tell him what I had seen and give him the 
 details I had heard. He asked me which were the muni- 
 cipals who had shown the greatest firmness in defending the 
 
THE TOWER OF THE TEMPLE. 
 
1792] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 125 
 
 lives of his family. I told him of Daujeon, who had checked 
 the impetuosity of the people, though he was far from being 
 in favour of the king. That municipal did not return to the 
 Tower until four months later, but the kmg remembered his 
 conduct and thanked him then. 
 
 The scenes of horror of which I have just spoken were 
 followed by some tranquillity, so that the royal family con- 
 tinued the uniform system of life which they had adopted 
 on entering the Temple. That the reader may foUow its 
 details easily, I think I ought to place here a description of 
 the small tower in which the king was then confined. 
 
 It backed upon the large Tower, without any interior com- 
 munication between the two, and it formed an oblong square 
 flanked by two small, corner towers \tourelles\. In one of 
 these small towers was a little staircase that started from 
 the second floor and led up to a gallery along the eaves ; in 
 the other were little cabinets which were alike on each floor 
 of the tower. 
 
 The building had four floors. The first was composed of 
 an antechamber, a dining-room, and a cabinet made in one 
 of the tourelles, in which was a library of some twelve to 
 fifteen hundred volumes. 
 
 The second floor was divided in about the same manner. 
 The largest room was made the bed-chamber of the queen 
 and the dauphin ; the second room, separated from the first 
 by a small and dark antechamber, was the bedroom of Ma- 
 dame Elisabeth and Madame Eoyale. It was necessary 
 to cross this room to enter the cabinet made in the tourelle, 
 and that cabinet, which served as a privy to the entire main 
 building, was common to the royal family, the municipal 
 officers, and the soldiers. 
 
 The king lived on the third floor, and slept in the large 
 room. The cabinet made in the tourelle was used by him 
 
126 MADAME J^LISABETH DE FKANCE. [chap. i. 
 
 as a reading-room. On one side was a kitchen, separated 
 from the king's bedchamber by a small dark room, occupied 
 at first by MM. de Chamilly and Hue and now sealed up. 
 The fourth floor was closed and locked. On the ground-floor 
 were kitchens of which no use was made. 
 
 The king rose usually at six in the morning ; he shaved 
 himself, and I arranged his hair and dressed him. He went 
 at once into his reading-room. That room being very small 
 the municipal guarding the king sat in the bedroom, the door 
 being half-open in order that he might not lose sight of 
 the person of the king. His Majesty prayed on his knees 
 for five or six minutes, and then read till nine o'clock. Dur- 
 ing that time, and after having done his room and prepared 
 the table for breakfast, I went down to the queen. She 
 never opened her door until I came, so as to prevent the 
 municipal from entering her bedroom. I then dressed the 
 young prince and arranged the queen's hair ; after which I 
 went to perform the same service to Madame JEHsabeth and 
 Madame Eoyale. This moment of their toilet was one of 
 those in which I could tell the queen and the princess what 
 I heard and what I knew. A sign told them I had some- 
 thing to say, and one of them would then talk to the muni- 
 cipal officer to distract his attention. 
 
 At nine o'clock the queen, her children and Madame 
 Elisabeth went up to the king's room to breakfast; after 
 having served them I did the bedrooms of the queen and the 
 princesses ; Tison and his wife helped me only in that sort 
 of work. It was not for service only that they had been 
 placed where they were ; a more important rSle was confided 
 to them, namely : to observe all that might escape the vigi- 
 lance of the municipals, and also to denounce the municipals 
 themselves. Crimes to be committed no doubt entered the 
 plan of those who selected them, for the Tison woman, who 
 
1792] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 127 
 
 seemed then of a rather gentle nature and who trembled 
 before her husband, afterwards revealed herself by an infa- 
 mous denunciation of the queen, which was followed by a fit 
 of insanity. Tison himself, formerly a clerk in the customs, 
 was an old man, hard and malignant by nature, incapable of 
 an emotion of pity, and destitute of all feelings of humanity. 
 Beside those who were the virtuous of the earth the con- 
 spirators had chosen to place those that were vilest. 
 
 At ten o'clock the king came down with his family into 
 the queen's room and passed the day there. He occupied 
 himself with the education of his son, made him recite pas- 
 sages from Corneille and Eacine, gave him lessons in geog- 
 raphy, and taught him to colour maps. The precocious 
 intelligence of the yoimg prince responded perfectly to the 
 tender care of the king. His memory was so good that on 
 a map covered with a sheet of paper he could point out the 
 departments, districts, towns, and the course of the rivers ; it 
 was the new geography of France that the king was teaching 
 him. The queen, on her side, was occupied with the educa- 
 tion of her daughter, and these different lessons lasted till 
 eleven o'clock. The rest of the morning she spent in 
 sewing, knitting, and doing tapestry. At midday the three 
 princesses went into Madame Elisabeth's room to change 
 their morning gowns ; no municipal went with them. 
 
 At one o'clock, if the weather was fine, the royal family 
 were taken down into the garden ; four municipal officers 
 and a captain of the National Guard accompanied them. As 
 there were quantities of workmen about the Temple, employed 
 in pulling down houses and building new walls, the royal 
 family were allowed to walk only in the horse-chestnut 
 alley. I was permitted to share these walks, during which 
 I made the young prince play either at quoits, or football, or 
 running, or other games of exercise. 
 
128 MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE. [chap. i. 
 
 At two o'clock they returned to the Tower, where I served 
 the dinner ; and every day at the same hour Santerre, a 
 brewer, general-commandmg the National Guard of Paris, 
 came to the Temple, accompanied by two aides-de-camp. 
 He searched the different rooms. Sometimes the king spoke 
 to him ; the queen never. After the meal, the royal family 
 returned to the queen's room where Their Majesties usually 
 played games at piquet or backgammon. It was during that 
 time that I dined. 
 
 At four o'clock the king took a short rest ; the princesses 
 sat by him, each with a book in her hand ; the deepest si- 
 lence reigned during that nap. What a spectacle ! a king 
 pursued by hatred and calumny, fallen from a throne to a 
 prison, yet sustained by his conscience and sleeping peace- 
 fully the sleep of the just ! his wife, his sister, his children 
 contemplating with respect those august features, the serenity 
 of which seemed increased by troubles, so that even then 
 there could be read upon them the peace he enjoys to-day ! 
 No, that sight will never be effaced from my memory. 
 
 When the king awoke, conversation was resumed. He 
 made me sit beside him. I gave, under his eyes, writing- 
 lessons to the young prince ; and I copied out, under his 
 selection, passages from the works of Montesquieu and other 
 celebrated authors. After this lesson, I took the little prince 
 into Madame Elisabeth's chamber, where I made him play 
 ball or battledore and shuttlecock. 
 
 At the close of the day the royal family sat round a table ; 
 the queen read aloud books of history or other well-chosen 
 works suitable to instruct and amuse her children; some- 
 times unexpected scenes corresponding to her own situation 
 occurred and gave rise to painful thoughts. Madame Elisa- 
 beth read also in turn, and the reading lasted till eight 
 o'clock. I then served the supper of the young prince in 
 
1792] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 129 
 
 Madame Elisabeth's bedroom ; the royal family were present ; 
 the king took pleasure in amusing his children by making 
 them guess the answers to conundrums taken from a file 
 of the " Mercure de France " which he had found in the 
 library. 
 
 After the dauphin's supper, I undressed him ; it was the 
 queen who heard him say his prayers ; he said one especially 
 for the Princesse de Lamballe ; and by another he asked 
 God to protect the life of Mme. de Tourzel, his governess. 
 If the municipals were very near, the little prince himself 
 took the precaution to say these last two prayers in a low 
 voice. I then made him go into the cabinet, and if I had 
 anything to tell the queen, I seized that moment. I told her 
 what the newspapers contained, for none were allowed to 
 enter the Tower; but a street-crier, sent expressly, came 
 every evening at seven o'clock and stood near the wall on 
 the rotunda side within the Temple inclosure, where he 
 cried, with several pauses, a summary of what was taking 
 place in the National Assembly, the commune, and the armies. 
 I stationed myself in the king's cabinet to listen ; and there, 
 in the silence, it was easy to remember what I heard. 
 
 At nine o'clock the king supped. The queen and Ma- 
 dame Elisabeth took turns to remain with the dauphin 
 during this meal ; I carried to them what they desired for 
 supper ; that was another opportunity to speak to them with- 
 out witnesses. 
 
 After supper the king went up for a moment into the 
 queen's room, gave her his hand in sign of adieu, also to his 
 sister, and kissed his children ; then he went to his own 
 room, retired into his cabinet and read there till midnight. 
 The queen and the princesses closed the doors of their rooms ; 
 one of the municipals remained all night in the little room 
 between their two chambers ; the other followed the king. 
 
 9 
 
130 MADAME :fcLISABETH DE FRANCE. [chap. i. 
 
 I then placed my bed beside that of the king ; but His 
 Majesty waited, before going to bed, till the municipals were 
 changed and the new one came up, in order to know which 
 one it was, and if he was one the king did not know, he 
 always told me to ask his name. The municipals were re- 
 lieved at eleven in the morning, at five in the afternoon, and 
 at midnight. The above manner of life lasted the whole 
 time that the king was in the little tower, that is to say, 
 until September 30. 
 
 I now resume the course of events. September 4th 
 Potion's secretary came to the Tower to remit to the king 
 a sum of two thousand francs in assignats ; he exacted from 
 the king a receipt. His Majesty requested him to pay M. 
 Hue five hundred and twenty-six francs, which he had 
 advanced in his service ; the secretary promised that he 
 would. That sum of two thousand francs was all that was 
 ever paid, although the Legislative Assembly voted five hun- 
 dred thousand francs for the expenses of the king in the 
 Tower of the Temple ; but this was before it perceived the 
 real intentions of its leaders, or dared to share them. 
 
 Two days later, Madame ifclisabeth made me collect a 
 number of little articles belonging to the Princesse de Lam- 
 balle which she had left in the Tower when suddenly taken 
 away from it. I made a package and addressed it, with a 
 letter, to the princess's waiting-woman. I heard later that 
 neither package nor letter reached her. 
 
 At this period, the character of most of the municipals 
 chosen to come to the Temple shows what manner of men 
 had been used by the leaders for the revolution of August 
 10, and for the massacres of the 2d of September. 
 
 A municipal named James, a teacher of the English 
 language, chose, one day, to follow the king into his little 
 reading-room, and sit beside him. The king told him in a 
 
1792] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 131 
 
 mild way that his colleagues always left him alone there; 
 that, the door remaining open, he could not escape his sight, 
 and that the room was so small two persons could not re- 
 main in it. James insisted in a harsh and vulgar way, and 
 the king was forced to yield ; he gave up his reading for 
 that day, and returned to his chamber, where the same 
 municipal continued to torment him with the same tyran- 
 nical surveillance. 
 
 One day, when the king rose, he mistook the municipal 
 on guard for the one of the night before, and he said with 
 interest that he was sorry they had forgotten to relieve 
 him; the municipal answered this impulse of kind feeling 
 on the part of the king with insults. "I come here," he 
 said, " to keep watch on your conduct, and not for you to 
 take notice of mine." Then, coming close up to the king, 
 his hat on his head, he added : " No one, and you less than 
 any one, has the right to meddle with me." He was inso- 
 lent for the rest of the day. I heard afterwards that his 
 name was Meimier. 
 
 Another commissioner, named Le Clerc, a doctor by 
 profession, was in the queen's room while I was giving a 
 writing lesson to the dauphin. He affected to interrupt 
 our work, with a dissertation on the republican education 
 that ought to be given to the young prince ; he wished to 
 have the most revolutionary works substituted for the 
 books the child read. 
 
 A fourth was present when the queen was reading to 
 her children a volume of the history of France, at the 
 period when the Conn^table de Bourbon took arms against 
 his country; he declared that the queen wished by that 
 example to inspire her son with feelings of vengeance 
 against France, and he made a formal denunciation to the 
 Council. I warned the queen, who, after that, chose her 
 
132 MADAME ]feLISABETH DE FRANCE. [chap. i. 
 
 subjects in a way that prevented any one from calumniat- 
 ing her intentions, 
 
 A man named Simon, a shoemaker and a municipal 
 officer, was one of six commissioners charged with the 
 duty of inspecting the works and expenditures of the 
 Temple; but he was the only one who, under pretence 
 of properly fulfilling his office, never quitted the Tower. 
 This man affected the lowest insolence whenever he was 
 in presence of the royal family; often he would say to me, 
 close to the king, so that His Majesty might hear him: 
 " Cldry, ask Capet if he wants anything, for I can't take the 
 trouble to come up a second time." I was forced to answer, 
 " He wants nothing." It was this Simon who, at a later 
 period, was put in charge of the young Louis, and who, by a 
 well-calculated barbarity, made that interesting child so 
 wretched. There is reason to think that he was the tool of 
 those who shortened the prince's life. 
 
 To teach the young prince how to reckon, I made, by order 
 of the queen, a multiplication-table. A mimicipal declared 
 that she was showing her son how to talk in cipher, and 
 they made her renounce the lessons in arithmetic. 
 
 The same thing happened in regard to the tapestry at 
 which the queen and the princesses worked when they 
 were first imprisoned. Several chair-backs being finished, 
 the queen directed me to have them sent to the Duchesse 
 de S^rent. The municipals, from whom I asked permission, 
 thought the designs represented hieroglyphics, destined to 
 open a correspondence with the outside ; consequently they 
 obtained a decree by which it was forbidden to allow any 
 work done by the princesses, to leave the Tower. 
 
 Some of the commissioners never spoke of the king and 
 queen, the prince and the princesses, without adding the 
 most insulting epithets to their names. A municipal, 
 
1792] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 133 
 
 named Turlot, said one day before me, " If the ezecutioner 
 does n't guillotine that s . . . family, I '11 do it myself." 
 
 The king and his family, when going to walk, had to pass 
 before a great many sentinels, some of whom, even at this 
 time, were posted in the interior of the little tower. They 
 presented arms to the municipals and officers of the 
 National Guard, who accompanied the king, but when the 
 king passed them, they grounded their muskets, or pointedly 
 reversed them. One of these sentinels, posted inside the 
 tower, wrote one day on the door of the king's chamber: 
 " The guillotine is permanent, and is awaiting the tyrant, 
 Louis XVI." The king read the words; I made a motion 
 to efface them, but His Majesty opposed it. 
 
 One of the two porters of the Tower, named Eocher, a 
 horrible object, dressed as a Sapeur, with long moustaches, 
 a black fur cap on his head, a large sabre and a belt from 
 which hung a bunch of big keys, presented himself at the 
 door whenever the king wished to go out; he would 
 never open it till the king was close beside it, and then, 
 imder pretence of choosing the right key from his enor- 
 mous bunch, which he rattled with a frightful noise, he 
 kept the royal family waiting, and drew back the bolt 
 with a crash. Then he would hurry down the stairs, and 
 stand by the last door, a long pipe in his mouth, and as 
 each member of the royal family passed him he would 
 puff the smoke in their faces, especially those of the prin- 
 cesses. Some of the National guards, who were amused by 
 such insolence, would gather near him, and laugh loudly at 
 each puff of smoke, permitting themselves to say the 
 coarsest things; some, to enjoy the spectacle more at 
 their ease, would even bring chairs from the guard-room, 
 and, sitting down, obstructed the passage, already very 
 narrow. 
 
134 MADAME ]feLISABETH DE FRANCE. [chap. i. 
 
 During the promenade of the family the artillery-men 
 assembled to dance and sing songs, — always revolutionary, 
 and sometimes obscene. 
 
 When the royal family returned to the Tower they were 
 forced to endure the same insults; often the walls were 
 covered with most indecent apostrophes, written in such large 
 letters that they could not escape their eye, such as : " Madame 
 Veto shall dance;" "We will put the fat pig on diet;" 
 " Down with the Cordon rouge ; " " Strangle the cubs ; " etc. 
 Once they drew a gibbet on which dangled a figure, and 
 beneath it was written: "Louis taking an air bath." At 
 another time it was a guillotine with these words : " Louis 
 spitting into the basket." 
 
 Thus the little walk in the garden granted to the royal 
 family became a torture. The king and queen might have 
 escaped it by remaining in the Tower, but their children, the 
 objects of their tenderness, needed the air ; it was for them 
 that Their Majesties endured daily without complaint these 
 innumerable outrages. 
 
 Nevertheless, some signs of fidelity or pity came at times 
 to soften the horror of these persecutions, and were all the 
 more remarked because so rare. 
 
 A sentinel mounted guard one day at the queen's door ; he 
 belonged to the faubourgs, and was clean in his dress, which 
 was that of a peasant. I was alone in the first room read- 
 ing. He looked at me attentively and seemed much moved. 
 I rose and passed before him. He presented arms and said 
 in a trembling voice, " You cannot go out." " Why not ? " 
 " My orders are to keep you within sight." " You mistake 
 me," I said. " What ! monsieur, are you not the king ? " 
 " Then you do not know him ? " "I have never seen him, 
 and I would like to see him away from here." " Speak 
 low;" I said, "1 shall enter that room and leave the door 
 
1792] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 135 
 
 half open ; look in and you will see the king ; he is sitting 
 by the window with a book in his hand." I told the queen 
 of the sentry's desire, and the king, whom she informed, had 
 the kindness to go from one room to the other and walk 
 before him. I then went back to the sentry. " Ah ! mon- 
 sieur," he said, " how good the king is ! how he loves his 
 children ! " He was so moved that he could hardly speak. 
 " No," he continued, striking his chest, " I cannot believe he 
 has done us all that harm." I feared that his extreme agita- 
 tion would compromise him, and I left him. 
 
 Another sentry, posted at the end of the alley where the 
 royal family took their walk, still very young and with an 
 interesting face, expressed by his looks the desire to give us 
 some information. Madame Elisabeth, on the second turn 
 of their walk, went near him to see if he would speak to her. 
 Whether from fear or respect he did not dare to do so ; but 
 tears fell from his eyes, and he made a sign to indicate that 
 he had laid a paper near him in a rubbish heap. I began 
 to look for it, under pretence of finding quoits for the 
 dauphin. But the municipal officers stopped me, and for- 
 bade me to go near the sentinels in future. I have never 
 known the intentions of that young man. 
 
 This hour for their walk brought another kind of spectacle 
 to the royal family which often rent their hearts. A num- 
 ber of faithful subjects daily profited by that brief hour 
 to see their king and queen by placing themselves at the 
 windows of houses which look into the garden of the Temple. 
 It was impossible to be mistaken as to their sentiments and 
 their prayers. Once I was sure I recognized the Marquise 
 de Tourzel. I judged especially by the extreme attention 
 with which she watched the movements of the little prince 
 when he left his parents' side. I said this to Madame Elisa- 
 beth, who believed her a victim of September 2d. The tears 
 
136 MADAME IjLISABETH DE FRANCE. [chap. i. 
 
 came into her eyes on hearing the name. " Oh ! " she said, 
 " can she be living still ! " 
 
 The next day I found means to get information. The 
 Marquise de Tourzel was living on one of her estates. I 
 also learned that the Princesse de Tarente and the Marquise 
 de la Eoche-Aymon, who were at the Tuileries on the 10th 
 of August, had escaped the massacre. The safety of these 
 persons, whose devotion was manifested on so many occa- 
 sions, gave some moments of consolation to the royal family ; 
 but they heard soon after the awful news that the prisoners 
 of the upper court of Orleans had all been massacred at Ver- 
 sailles on the 9 th. 
 
 September 29, at nine in the evening, a man named Lubin, 
 a municipal, arrived, surrounded by gendarmes on horseback 
 and a numerous populace, to make a proclamation in front of 
 the Tower. The trumpets sounded, and great silence suc- 
 ceeded. Lubin had the voice of Stentor. The royal family 
 could hear distinctly the proclamation of the abolition of 
 royalty, and the establishment of a republic, Hubert, so 
 well-known under the name of Vhre Duchesne, and Des- 
 tournelles, afterwards minister of public taxation, happened 
 to be on guard that day over the royal family ; they were 
 seated at the moment near the door, and they stared at the 
 king, smiling treacherously. The king noticed them ; he had 
 a book in his hand and continued to read ; no change ap- 
 peared upon his face. The queen showed equal firmness; 
 not a word, not a motion that could add to the enjoyment 
 of those two men. The proclamation ended, the trumpets 
 sounded again. I went to the window; instantly all eyes 
 turned to me ; they took me for Louis XVI. ; I was loaded 
 with insults. The gendarmes made threatening motions 
 towards me with their sabres, and I was obliged to retire in 
 order to stop the tumult. 
 
1792] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 137 
 
 The same evening I informed the king that his son had 
 need of curtains and covering for his bed, as the cold was 
 beginning to be felt. The king told me to write the request 
 and he would sign it. I used the same expressions I had 
 hitherto employed: "The king requests for his son, etc." 
 " You are very daring," said Destournelles, " to use a title 
 abolished by the will of the people, as you have just heard." 
 I replied that I had heard a proclamation, but I did not 
 know its object. " It is," he said, " the abolition of royalty, 
 and you can tell monsieur (pointing to the king) to cease to 
 take a title the people no longer recognize." "I cannot," 
 I said to him, " change this note, because it is already 
 signed; the king would ask me the reason, and it is not 
 for me to tell it to him." " You can do as you choose," he re- 
 plied, " but I shall not certify your request." The next day 
 Madame Elisabeth ordered me to write in future for such 
 purposes as follows : " It is necessary for the service of 
 Louis XVI. — or Marie- Antoinette — or Louis-Charles — or 
 Marie-Th^rfese — or Marie-Elisabeth." 
 
 Up to that time I had been forced to repeat these requests 
 often. The small amount of linen the king and queen had 
 was lent to them by persons of the Court during the time 
 they were at the Eeuillants. They could get none from the 
 chateau of the Tuileries, where, on the 10th of August, every- 
 thing had been pillaged. The royal family lacked clothing 
 of every kind, and the princesses mended what they had 
 daily. Often Madame Elisabeth was obliged to wait until 
 the king went to bed, in order to darn his clothes. I ob- 
 tained at last, after many requests, that a small amount 
 of new linen should be made for them. Unfortunately, the 
 work-people marked it with crowned letters, and the muni- 
 cipals insisted that the princesses should pick out the 
 crowns ; they were forced to obey. 
 
138 MADAME I:LISABETH DE FRANCE. [chap. ii. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Continuation of their Life and Treatment. The King separated from his 
 Family, and summoned for Trial before the Convention. 
 
 On the 26th of September, I learned from a municipal that 
 it was proposed to separate the king from his family, that an 
 apartment was being prepared for him in the great Tower, 
 and that it was then nearly ready. It was not without pre- 
 caution that I announced to the king this new tyranny ; I 
 showed him how much it cost me to distress him. " You 
 could not give me a greater proof of attachment," said His 
 Majesty. " I exact of your zeal that you will hide nothing 
 from me ; I expect everything ; try to learn the day of this 
 cruel separation and inform me of it." 
 
 On the 29th of September, at ten o'clock in the morning, 
 five or six municipals entered the queen's room where the 
 royal family was assembled. One of them, named Char- 
 bonnier, read to the king a decree of the council of the 
 Commune which ordered " the removal of paper, pens, ink, 
 pencils, and written papers, whether on the persons of the 
 prisoners or in their rooms ; also from the valet de chamhre, 
 and all other persons on service in the Tower." Charbonnier 
 added : " If you have need of anything, Clery will come 
 down and write your requests on a register which will be 
 kept in the coimcil-chamber." 
 
 The king and his family, without making the slightest 
 observation, searched their persons and gave up their papers, 
 pencils, pocket-cases, etc. The commissioners then searched 
 the rooms, the closets, and carried off the articles designated 
 
1792] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 139 
 
 in the decree. I learned then, from a member of the depu- 
 tation, that the king was to be transferred that very evening 
 to the great Tower. I found means to inform the king by- 
 means of Madame Elisabeth. 
 
 True enough, after supper, as the king was leaving the 
 queen's room to go up to his own, a municipal told him to 
 wait, as the council had something to communicate to him. 
 A quarter of an hour later, the siz municipals who, in the 
 morning, had carried away the papers, etc., entered, and read 
 to the king a second decree of the Commune, which ordered 
 his removal to the great Tower. Though already informed 
 of that event, the king was greatly affected on being notified 
 of it ; his distressed family tried to read in the eyes of the 
 commissioners to what length their projects went. The 
 king, in bidding them adieu, left them in the utmost alarm 
 and uncertainty, and this separation, forecasting as it did so 
 many other misfortunes, was one of the most cruel moments 
 Their Majesties had yet passed in the Temple. I followed 
 the king to his new prison. 
 
 The apartment of the king in the great Tower was not 
 ready ; there was only one bed and no other furniture in it. 
 The painters and paperers were still at work, which caused 
 so intolerable a smell that I feared His Majesty would be 
 made ill by it. They intended to give me a room very far 
 from that of the king, but I insisted vehemently on being 
 nearer to him. I passed the first night iu a chair beside His 
 Majesty ; the next day the king, with great difficulty, ob- 
 tained for me a room adjoining his own. 
 
 After His Majesty had risen, I wished to go into the small 
 tower to dress the young prince. The municipals refused. 
 One of them, named V^ron, said : " You are to have no com- 
 munication in future with the other prisoners, nor your mas- 
 ter either ; he is never to see his children again." 
 
140 MADAME :e:LISABETH DE ERANCE. [chap. 11. 
 
 At nine o'clock the king asked to be taken to his family. 
 " We have no orders for that," replied the commissioners. 
 His Majesty made a few observations, to which they did 
 not reply. 
 
 Half an hour later, two municipals entered, followed by a 
 serving-man who brought the king a piece of bread and a 
 bottle of lemonade for his breakfast. The king expressed 
 his desire to dine with his family; they replied that they 
 would inquire the orders of the Commune. " But," said the 
 king, "my valet de chambre can surely go down; he has 
 the care of my son, and nothiog prevents him from continu- 
 ing that service." " That does not depend on us," said the 
 commissioners, and they retired. 
 
 I was then in a corner of the room, overcome with distress 
 and filled with heart-rending fears for that august family. 
 On one side, I saw the suffering of my master ; on the other, 
 I thought of the young prince, abandoned perhaps to strange 
 hands. The municipals had already talked of separating him 
 from his parents, and what fresh suffering that would cause 
 to the queen ! 
 
 I was full of these distressing ideas when the king came 
 to me holdiug in his hand the bread they had brought him ; 
 he offered me half, saying : " They seem to have forgotten 
 your breakfast; take this, the rest is enough for me." I 
 refused, he insisted. I could not restrain my tears; the 
 king saw them, and his own flowed. 
 
 At ten o'clock other municipals brought the workmen to 
 continue their work in the apartment. One of them said to 
 the king that he had just been present at the breakfast of his 
 family, and they were all in good health. " I thank you," 
 said the king, " and I beg you to give them news of me ; tell 
 them that I am well. Can I not," he continued, "have a 
 few books which I left in the queen's room ? You would do 
 
1792] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 141 
 
 me a great pleasure if you would send them to me, for I have 
 nothmg to read here." His Majesty named the books he 
 wanted. The municipal consented to the king's request; 
 but, not knowing how to read, he proposed that I should 
 go with him to get the books. I congratulated myself on 
 the man's ignorance, and I blessed Providence for giving 
 us that moment of consolation. The king charged me with 
 certain orders, his eyes told me the rest. 
 
 I found the queen in her room, with her children and 
 Madame Elisabeth. They were weeping, and their grief 
 increased on seeing me. They asked a thousand questions 
 about the king, to which I could only answer with reserve. 
 The queen, addressing the municipals who accompanied me, 
 eagerly urged her request to be with the king at least a few 
 moments a day, and during meals. No longer complaints 
 and tears, it was cries and sobs of grief. " Well, they shall 
 dine together to-day at least," said a municipal officer, " but 
 as our conduct is subordinate to the decrees of the Commune 
 we must do to-morrow what they prescribe." His colleagues 
 consented. 
 
 At the mere idea of being again with the king, a senti- 
 ment that was almost joy came to soothe the afflicted family. 
 The queen holding her children in her arms, and Madame 
 Elisabeth, raising her eyes to heaven and thanking God 
 for the unexpected mercy, presented a very touching sight. 
 Some of the municipals could not restrain their tears (the 
 only ones I ever saw them shed in that dreadful place). 
 One of them, the shoemaker Simon, said aloud : " I believe 
 those b ... of women will make me cry." Then turning to 
 the queen he added : " When you murdered the people on the 
 10th of August you did not cry." — " The people are greatly 
 deceived about our sentiments," answered the queen. 
 
 I then took the books the king asked for and carried them 
 
142 MADAME :6lISABETH DE FEANCE. [chap. ii. 
 
 to him ; the municipals went with me to inform His Majesty 
 that he might see his family. I said to these commissioners 
 that I supposed I could without doubt continue to serve the 
 young prince and the princesses ; they consented. I thus 
 had an opportunity to inform the queen of what had taken 
 place, also of how much the king had suffered in being 
 parted from her. They served the dinner in the king's 
 room where his family joined him ; nothing more was said 
 about the decree of the Commune, and the royal family con- 
 tinued to meet at their meals, and also when walking in the 
 garden. 
 
 After dinner they showed the queen the apartment that 
 was being prepared for her in the great Tower, above that of 
 the king. She begged the workmen to finish it quickly, but it 
 was three weeks before it was ready. 
 
 During that interval I continued my services towards 
 Their Majesties as well as towards the young prince and the 
 princesses. Their occupations remained the same. The care 
 the king gave to the education of his son was not inter- 
 rupted ; but this abode of the royal family in two separate 
 towers made the watchfulness of the municipals more diffi- 
 cult and rendered them very uneasy. The number of com- 
 missioners was increased, and their distrust left me but little 
 means to gain information of what was passing outside. 
 Here are the ways I made use of : — 
 
 Under pretext of getting my linen and other necessaries 
 brought to me, I obtained permission for my wife to come 
 once a week to the Temple. She was always accompanied 
 by a lady, a friend of hers, who passed for one of her rela- 
 tives. No one proved more attachment to the royal family 
 than this lady, by the steps she took and the risks she ran 
 on various occasions. On their arrival, they were taken into 
 the council chamber, but I could only speak to them in pies- 
 
1792] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 143 
 
 ence of the municipals. We were closely watched, and the 
 first visits brought no results ; but I managed to make them 
 understand that they must come at one o'clock in the after- 
 noon, the hour of the king's walk, during which time most 
 of the municipals followed the royal family ; only one was 
 left in the council chamber, and if he was a kindly man he 
 gave us some liberty, without, however, losing us from sight. 
 
 Getting thus a chance to speak without being overheard, I 
 obtained from them news of the persons in whom the royal 
 family took interest, and I heard of what was going on in 
 the Convention, It was my wife who engaged the crier 
 whom I have already mentioned as coming every day near 
 the walls of the Temple and crying the items in the news- 
 papers several times at intervals. 
 
 To this information I added what I could pick up from 
 some of the municipals, but especially from a faithful 
 man named Turgy, serving in the king's kitchen, who, out 
 of devotion to His Majesty, had contrived to get him- 
 self employed in the Temple with two of his comrades, 
 Marchand and Chretien. They brought to the Tower the 
 meals of the royal family, prepared in the kitchen of the 
 palace of the Temple; they were also in charge of the busi- 
 ness of provisioning, and Turgy, who was thus able to leave 
 the precincts of the Temple two or three times a week, 
 obtained information of what was happening. The difficulty 
 was to convey that information to me. He was forbidden 
 to speak to me except about the service of the table, and 
 always in presence of the municipals. When he wanted to 
 tell me something, he made a sign we had agreed upon, and 
 I made different pretexts to approach him. Sometimes I 
 asked him to do my hair; then Madame Elisabeth, who 
 knew of my relations with Turgy, would speak to the munici- 
 pals, and so give me time to exchange a few words unob- 
 
144 MADAME :fcLISABETH DE FRANCE. [chap. n. 
 
 served ; at other times I would make occasions for him to 
 enter my chamber, and he seized the moment to put news- 
 papers and other printed documents into my bed. 
 
 When the king or queen desired some particular informa- 
 tion from the outside, and the day of my wife's visit was far 
 off, I employed Turgy. If it was not his day for going out 
 I would pretend to be in need of something for the royal 
 family. " It must be for another day," he would answer. 
 " Very good," I then said, with an indifferent air, " the king 
 can wait." By speaking thus I expected to induce the mu- 
 nicipals to give him an order to go out. Often they did 
 give it and he brought me the details the king wanted that 
 night or the next morning. We had agreed together as 
 to this system of communicating, but we had to be careful 
 not to employ the same means twice before the same 
 commissioners. 
 
 Other obstacles were in the way of my informing the 
 king of what I had learned. I could only speak to His 
 Majesty in the evening at the moment when they changed 
 the guard and as he went to bed. Sometimes I could say a 
 word to him in the mornings when his watchers were not yet 
 in a state to appear. I affected to wait until they were, let- 
 ting them see, however, that the king was waiting for me. 
 If they let me enter, I immediately opened the curtains of 
 the king's bed, and while I put on his shoes and stockings I 
 was able to speak to him without being heard. More often, 
 however, my hopes miscarried, and the municipals made me 
 wait for the end of their own toilet before they would let me 
 attend to that of his Majesty. Several among them treated 
 me roughly ; some ordered me in the morning to take away 
 their flock-beds and obliged me to replace them in the even- 
 ing ; others constantly made insulting remarks to me ; but 
 such conduct gave me additional means of being useful to 
 
1792] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 145 
 
 Their Majesties ; by showing only gentleness and compliance 
 to the commissioners, I ended by getting their good-will 
 almost in spite of themselves ; I inspired them with confi- 
 dence without their being aware of it ; and I thus succeeded 
 in learning from themselves what I wanted to know. 
 
 Such was the plan that I was following with great care 
 ever since my entrance to the Temple, when a singular and 
 unexpected event made me fear I should be separated for- 
 ever from the royal family. 
 
 One evening, towards six o'clock, — it was on the 6th of 
 October, — after having accompanied the queen to her apart- 
 ment, I was going back to the king with the two municipal 
 officers, when a sentinel placed at the door of the large guard- 
 room stopping me by the arm and calling me by name, asked 
 how I was and said, with an air of mystery, that he had some- 
 thing he wished to speak about. " Monsieur," I answered, 
 " speak out loud ; I am not permitted to whisper with any 
 one." " I am told," said the man, " that the king has been 
 put in a dungeon for the last few days, and that you are 
 with him." " You see it is not so," I replied, leaving him. 
 One of the municipals was walking before me, the other 
 followed me; the first stopped and listened to what was 
 said. 
 
 The next morning two commissioners waited for me at 
 the door of the queen's room. They took me to the council- 
 chamber, and the municipals who were there assembled, 
 questioned me. I reported the conversation with the senti- 
 nel just as it had taken place ; the municipal who had lis- 
 tened to it confirmed my account ; the other maintained 
 that the sentinel had given me a paper, that it was a letter 
 to the king and he had heard it rustle. I denied the fact, 
 and invited the municipals to search me and make other 
 inquiries. They drew up a proces-verhal of my examination, 
 
 10 
 
146 MADAME IjLISABETH DE FRANCE. [chap. ii. 
 
 and I was confronted with the sentinel, who was sentenced 
 to twenty-four hours imprisonment. 
 
 I thought the affair ended when, on the 26th of October, 
 while the royal family were dining, a municipal entered, fol- 
 lowed by six gendarmes, sabre in hand, a clerk, and a sheriff, 
 both in uniform. I was in terror, thinking they had come to 
 seize the king. The royal family rose ; the king asked what 
 was wanted of him ; but the mimicipal, without replying to 
 him, called me into the next room ; the gendarmes followed, 
 and the clerk having read to me a warrant of arrest they 
 seized me to take me before the Tribunal. I asked permis- 
 sion to inform the king, and was told that from that moment 
 I should not be allowed to speak to him. " Take nothing 
 but a shirt," added the municipal, " it will not be long." 
 
 I believed I understood him and took nothing but my hat. 
 I passed beside the king and his family who were standing 
 and seemed in consternation at the manner in which I was 
 carried off. The populace collected round the Temple as- 
 sailed me with insults and demanded my head. An officer 
 of the National Guard said it was necessary to preserve my 
 life until I had revealed secrets of which I was the sole de- 
 positary. The same vociferations continued the whole way. 
 
 As soon as I reached the Palais-de- Justice I was put in 
 solitary confinement. There I remained six hours, vainly 
 endeavouring to imagine what could be the motives for my 
 arrest. I could only remember that on the morning of 
 the 10th of August, during the attack on the chateau of the 
 Tuileries, a few persons who were caught there and were try- 
 ing to get away, asked me to hide in a bureau that belonged 
 to me several precious articles, and even papers by which 
 they might be recognized. I thought that perhaps those 
 papers had been seized and might be my ruin. 
 
 At eight o'clock I was taken before judges, who were un- 
 
1792] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 147 
 
 known to me. This was a revolutionary tribunal, established 
 August 10, to make a selection among those who had escaped 
 the fury of the people on that occassion and put them to 
 death. What was my astonishment when I saw on the 
 prisoner's bench the same young man who was suspected of 
 giving me a letter three weeks earlier, and when I recog- 
 nized in my accuser the municipal officer who had de- 
 nounced me to the council of the Temple. They questioned 
 me, and witnesses were heard. The municipal renewed his 
 accusation ; I retorted that he was not worthy to be a mag- 
 istrate of the people, because, if he had heard the rustle of a 
 paper and saw the man give me a letter he ought to have had 
 me searched at once, instead of waiting eighteen hours to de- 
 nounce me to the council of the Temple. After the debate, 
 the jury voted, and on their declaration I was acquitted. 
 The president ordered four of the municipals present to take 
 me back to the Temple ; it was then midnight. I arrived at 
 the moment when the king was going to bed, and I was 
 allowed to inform him of my return. The royal family had 
 taken the keenest interest in my fate, and thought I was 
 already condemned. 
 
 It was at this time that the queen came to live in the 
 apartment prepared for her in the great Tower ; but that day 
 so earnestly desired, and which seemed to promise Their 
 Majesties some consolation, was marked, on the part of the 
 municipal officers, with a fresh proof of animosity against the 
 queen. Since her arrival at the Temple they saw her devot- 
 ing her existence to the care of her son and finding some 
 relief to her troubles in his affection and his caresses ; they 
 now separated the two without warning her; her distress 
 was extreme. The young prince being placed with his father, 
 I had sole charge of his service. With what tenderness the 
 queen begged me to watch incessantly over his life. 
 
148 MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE. [chap. n. 
 
 The events of which I shall henceforth have to speak hav- 
 ing happened in a different locality from that I have already 
 described, I think I ought to make known the new habitation 
 of Their Majesties. 
 
 The great Tower, about one hundred and fifty feet high, had 
 four storeys, all vaulted and supported up the middle from 
 base to roof by a huge shaft [what was called the little tower 
 flanked it, but without communication, on one side]. The 
 interior is about thirty feet square. 
 
 The second and third floors allotted to the king and queen, 
 being, like the other floors, of one room each, were divided 
 by board partitions into four rooms. The ground-floor was 
 used by the municipals, the floor above was the guardroom, 
 the next was that of the king. 
 
 The first room of his floor (divided as above stated) was 
 an antechamber from which three doors led into the other 
 three rooms. Opposite to the entrance was the king's bedroom, 
 in which a bed was now placed for the dauphin ; my room 
 was on the left, so was the dining-room, which was separated 
 from the antechamber by a glass partition. In the king's room 
 was a chimney; a great stove in the antechamber heated 
 the other rooms. Each of these rooms was lighted by a 
 window ; but thick iron bars and shutters on the outside pre- 
 vented the air from circulating freely. The embrasures of 
 these windows were nine feet deep. 
 
 The floors of the great tower communicated by a staircase 
 placed in one of the tourelles at the corner of it. This 
 staircase went up to the battlements, and wickets were placed 
 upon it at intervals, to the number of seven. From this 
 staircase each floor was entered through two doors, one of 
 oak, very thick and studded with nails, the other of iron. 
 The other tourelle, opening into the king's chamber, was 
 made into a reading-room ; on the floor above, it was turned 
 
1792] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 149 
 
 into a privy, and above that the i&rewood was stored in it 
 and during the day the flock beds of the municipals who 
 guarded the king at night were placed there. 
 
 The four rooms on the king's floor had canvas ceilings ; 
 the partitions were covered with paper; that of the ante- 
 chamber represented the interior of a prison, and on one of 
 the panels hung, in very large type, " The Declaration of the 
 Eights of Man " framed in a border of the three colours. A 
 washstand, a small bureau, four covered chairs, one arm-chair, 
 four straw chairs, a mirror on the fireplace, and a bed of green 
 damask composed the furniture ; these articles, together with 
 those used in the other chambers were taken from the palace 
 of the Temple. The king's bed was the one used by the 
 captain of the guards of the Comte d 'Artois. 
 
 The Due d'Angouleme, in his capacity of grand-prior of 
 France, was proprietor of the palace of the Temple. The 
 Comte d 'Artois had furnished it and made it his residence 
 whenever he came to Paris. The Tower, separated from the 
 palace by about two hundred feet and standing in the middle 
 of the garden, was the storehouse of the archives of the 
 Knights of Malta. 
 
 The queen lodged on the third floor, above the king, the 
 distribution of the rooms being nearly the same as that of 
 the king's apartment. The bedroom of the queen and Madame 
 Eoyale was over that of the king and dauphin ; Madame Elisa- 
 beth occupied the room above mine ; the municipal sat in the 
 antechamber all day and slept there. Tison and hi s wife lodged 
 in the room above the dining-room of the king's apartment. 
 
 The upper (fourth) floor was unoccupied; a gallery ran 
 round the inside of the battlements and was sometimes used 
 as a promenade ; but blinds had been placed between the bat- 
 tlements to prevent the royal family from seeing and being 
 seen. 
 
150 MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE. [chap, ii. 
 
 After the reunion of Their Majesties in the great Tower 
 there was little change in the hours of meals, readings, walks, 
 or in the time given by the king and queen to the education 
 of their children. After the king rose, he read the ser- 
 vice of the Knights of the Saint-Esprit, and as they had 
 refused to allow mass to be said in the Temple, even on feast- 
 days, he ordered me to buy for him the breviary that was 
 used by the diocese of Paris. Louis XVI. was truly religious, 
 but his pure and enlightened religion never caused him to 
 neglect his other duties. Books of travel, the works of Mon- 
 tesquieu, those of the Comte de Buffon, " The Spectacle of 
 Nature " by Pluche, Hume's History of England, the Imitation 
 of Jesus Christ in Latin, Tasso in Italian, the drama of our 
 different schools, were his habitual reading from the time 
 he entered the Temple. He always gave four hours a day to 
 Latin authors. 
 
 Madame Elisabeth and the queen desiring to have the 
 same books of devotion as those of the king, His Majesty 
 ordered me to obtain permission to buy them. How often 
 have I seen Madame Elisabeth on her knees at her bedside 
 praying fervently ! 
 
 At nine o'clock they came to fetch the king and his son to 
 breakfast in the queen's room ; I accompanied them. I then 
 did the hair of the three princesses, and, by order of the 
 queen, I showed Madame Eoyale how to dress hair. Dur- 
 ing this time the king played chess or dominoes with the 
 queen or with Madame Elisabeth. 
 
 After dinner the young prince and his sister played in the 
 antechamber at battledore and shuttlecock, at Siam, or 
 other games. Madame Elisabeth was always present, sitting 
 near a table, with a book in her hand. I remained in the 
 room, sometimes reading ; and I then sat down, to obey the 
 orders of the princess. This dispersal of the royal famUy 
 
1792] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 151 
 
 often made the municipals very uneasy ; unwilling to leave 
 the king and queen alone, they were still more unwilling to 
 separate from one another, so much did each distrust his 
 fellow. This was the moment that Madame Elisabeth 
 snatched to ask me questions or give me orders. I listened 
 to her and answered without turning my eyes from the book 
 which I held ia my hand, so as not to be detected by the muni- 
 cipals. The dauphin and Madame Eoyale, m collusion with 
 their aunt, facilitated these conversations by their noisy 
 games, and often warned her by certain signs of the entrance 
 of the municipals into the room. I was distrustful above all 
 of Tison, suspected by the Commissioners themselves, whom 
 he had more than once denounced ; it was in vain that the 
 king and queen treated him kindly ; nothing could conquer 
 his natural malignity. 
 
 In the evening, at bed-time, the municipals placed their 
 beds in the antechamber so as to barricade the room in which 
 His Majesty slept. They then locked the door leading from 
 my room into that of the king and took away the key. I was 
 obliged therefore to pass through the antechamber whenever 
 His Majesty called me during the night, bear the ill-humour 
 of the commissioners, and wait till one of them chose to get 
 up and let me pass. 
 
 On the 7th of October, at six in the evening, I was made 
 to go down to the council-chamber, where I found some 
 twenty of the municipals assembled, presided over by Manuel, 
 who, from being a prosecutor for the Commune of Paris had 
 risen to be a member of the National Convention. His pres- 
 ence surprised me and made me anxious. They ordered me 
 to take from the king, that very evening, the orders with 
 which he was still decorated, such as those of Saint-Louis and 
 the Golden Fleece ; His Majesty no longer wore that of the 
 Holy-Spirit, which had been suppressed by the first Assembly. 
 
152 MADAME :feLISABETH DE ERANCE. [chap. ii. 
 
 I represented that I could not obey ; that it was not my 
 place to make known to the king the decrees of the council. 
 I made this answer in order to gain time to warn His Ma- 
 jesty, and I then saw by the embarrassment of the municipals 
 that they were acting this time, at least, without being autho- 
 rized by any decree, either of the Commune or the Conven- 
 tion. The commissioners refused at first to go up to the king ; 
 but Manuel induced them to do so by offering to accompany 
 them. The king was seated, reading ; Manuel addressed 
 him, and the conversation that ensued was as remarkable for 
 the indecent familiarity of Manuel as for the calmness and 
 moderation of the king. 
 
 " How are you ? " asked Manuel ; " have you all that is 
 necessary ? " — " I am content with what I have," replied His 
 Majesty. — "You are informed no doubt of the victories of 
 our armies, of the taking of Spire, and of Nice, and the con- 
 quest of Savoie ? " — "I heard them mentioned a few days 
 ago by one of those messieurs, who was reading an evening 
 journal " — " What ! do not you see the newspapers which are 
 now so interesting ? " — "I receive none." — " Messieurs" said 
 Manuel, addressing the municipals " give all the newspapers 
 to monsieur (pointing to the king) ; it is well that he should 
 be informed of our successes." Then, addressing His Ma- 
 jesty again, " Democratic principles are propagating them- 
 selves ; you know, of course, that the people have abolished 
 royalty and adopted a republican government ? " — "I have 
 heard it said, and I hope that Frenchmen will find the hap- 
 piness that I always wished to give them." — "Do you also 
 know that the National Assembly has suppressed all orders 
 of knighthood? They ought to have told you to take off 
 those decorations. Eelegated to the class, of other citizens 
 you must be treated in the same manner as they. As for 
 the rest, ask for what is necessary and they will hasten to 
 
1792] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 153 
 
 procure it." — "I thank you," said the king, " I have need of 
 nothing ; " and he resumed his reading. Manuel had hoped 
 to discover regrets or provoke impatience ; he found a great 
 resignation and an unalterable serenity. 
 
 The deputation retired ; one of the municipals told me to 
 follow it to the council-room, where I was again ordered to 
 remove from the king his decorations. Manuel added: 
 " You will do well to send to the Convention the crosses and 
 ribbons. I ought to warn you," he continued, " that the im- 
 prisonment of Louis XVI., may last long, and if your inten- 
 tion is not to remain here, you had better say so now. It is 
 intended, in order to make the surveillance easier, to lessen 
 the number of persons employed in the Tower. If you re- 
 main with the cidevant king you will be absolutely alone, 
 and your work will become much heavier. Wood and water 
 for one week will be brought to you ; but you will have to 
 clean the apartment and do all the other work." I replied 
 that being determined not to leave the king I would submit 
 to everything. They then took me back to the apartment 
 of His Majesty, who said to me: "You heard what was 
 said ; you will take my decorations off my coats this evening." 
 
 The next day, when dressing the king, I told him I had 
 locked up the crosses and the cordons, though Manuel had 
 told me it was proper to send them to the Convention. 
 " You did right," said His Majesty. 
 
 The tale has been spread that Manuel came to the Temple 
 in the month of September to request His Majesty to write 
 to the King of Prussia at the time of his entrance into 
 Champagne. I can assure every one that Manuel appeared 
 in the Temple only twice during the time that I was there, 
 on the 3d of September and the 7th of October ; that each 
 time he was accompanied by a large number of municipals, 
 and that he never spoke to the king in private. 
 
154 MADAME ELISABETH DE FEANCE. [chap. ii. 
 
 On the 9t]i of October, tliey brought to the king the 
 journal of the debates in the Convention; but a few days 
 later, a municipal, named Michel, a perfumer, obtained an 
 order which again forbade the entrance of all public prints 
 to the Tower ; he called me into the council-chamber and 
 asked me by whose order journals were sent to my address. 
 It was true that, without being myself informed how or 
 why, four newspapers were daily brought to the Tower, 
 bearing this printed address : " To the valet de chambre of 
 Louis XVI., in the Tower of the Temple." I have always 
 been ignorant, and still am, of the name of the person who 
 paid the subscription. Michel wanted to force me to point 
 it out to him, and he made me write to editors and publishers 
 and get an explanation from them; but their answers, if 
 they made any, were not communicated to me. 
 
 This rule of not permitting newspapers to enter the Tower 
 had exceptions, however, when they gave an opportunity 
 for fresh outrage. If they contained insulting remarks 
 about the king or queen, atrocious threats, infamous cal- 
 umnies, certaui of the municipals had the deliberate wick- 
 edness to leave them on the mantel or the washstand in the 
 king's room, in order that they might fall into his hands. 
 
 Once he read in one of those sheets the speech of an 
 artillery-man who demanded " the head of the tyrant, Louis 
 XVL, that he might load his cannon with it and send it to 
 the enemy." Another paper, speaking of Madame Elisabeth 
 and seeking to destroy the admiration which her devotion 
 to the king and queen inspired in the public mind, tried 
 to destroy her virtue by the most absurd calumnies. A 
 third said they ought to strangle the two little wolflings in 
 the Tower, meaning thereby the dauphin and Madame 
 Eoyale. 
 
 The king was not affected by such articles, except on 
 
1792] THE CAPTIVITY OF "LOUIS XVI. 155 
 
 account of the people. " The French," he said, " are most 
 unfortunate in letting themselves be thus deceived." I took 
 care to abstract those journals if I chanced to be the first 
 to see them ; but they were often laid there when my duties 
 took me out of his room, and there were very few of these 
 articles, written for the purpose of outraging the royal 
 family, either to provoke to regicide or to prepare the people 
 to let it be committed, which were not read by the king. 
 Those who know the insolent writings published in those 
 days can alone form an idea of this intolerable form of 
 torture. 
 
 The influence of those sanguinary writings could be seen 
 in the conduct of most of the municipal officers, who, until 
 then, had not shown themselves so harsh or so malignant. 
 
 One day, after dinner, I wrote a memorial of expenditures 
 in the council-chamber and locked it up in a desk of which 
 they had given me the key. I had hardly left the room 
 before Marino, a municipal officer, said to his colleagues 
 (though he was not on duty) that the desk must be opened 
 and examined to prove whether or not I was in correspond- 
 ence with the enemies of the people. " I know him well," 
 he added, " and I know that he receives letters for the 
 king." Then accusing his colleagues of connivance, he 
 loaded them with insults, threatened to denounce them as 
 accomplices, and went off to execute that purpose. The 
 others immediately drew up a proces-verhal of all the papers 
 contained in my desk and sent it to the Commune before 
 whom Marino had already made his denunciation. 
 
 This same man declared, another day, that a back-gam- 
 mon-board, which I had had mended with the consent of 
 his colleagues, contaiued a correspondence ; he took it en- 
 tirely apart and finding nothing he had it glued together 
 again in his presence. 
 
156 MADAME I:LISABETH DE FRANCE. [chap. ii. 
 
 One Thursday, my wife and her friend having come to 
 the Temple as usual, I talked with them in the council- 
 chamber ; the royal family, who were walking in the garden, 
 saw us, and the queen and Madame Elisabeth gave us a 
 little nod. That motion, one of simple interest, was noticed 
 by Marino ; nothing more was needed to make him arrest 
 my wife and her friend the moment they left the council- 
 chamber. They were questioned separately ; they asked 
 my wife who the lady was who accompanied her. " My 
 sister," she replied. The other, being asked the same ques- 
 tion, said she was her cousin. This contradiction served as 
 the matter of a long proces-verhal and the gravest sus- 
 picions, — Marino declaring that the lady was a page of 
 the queen disguised. At last, after three hours of the most 
 painful and insulting examination, they were set at liberty. 
 
 They were allowed to return to the Temple, but we re- 
 doubled our prudence and precautions. I often managed, in 
 our short interviews, to give them notes which Madame 
 Elisabeth had contrived to secrete from the searches of the 
 municipals; these notes usually related to information de- 
 sired by Their Majesties. Luckily, I had not given any on 
 that occasion; had one of those notes been found upon 
 them we should all three have run the greatest danger. 
 
 Other municipals made themselves remarkable by ridicu- 
 lous actions. One broke up all the macaroons to see if they 
 contained writings; another, for the same purpose, ordered 
 the peaches cut in two before him, and their stones cracked. 
 A third forced me one day to drink some essence of soap 
 with which the king shaved himself, affecting to fear there 
 was poison in it. After each meal Madame Elisabeth used 
 to give me a little knife with a gold blade to clean ; often 
 the commissioners would snatch it from my hands to see if 
 a note had been slipped into the sheath. 
 
1792] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 157 
 
 Madame Elisabeth ordered me one day to send back to 
 the Duchesse de S^rent a book of devotions ; the municipals 
 cut off the margins of every page, fearing she had written 
 something on them with invisible ink. 
 
 One of them forbade me one day to go up into the queen's 
 room to do her hair. Her Majesty was forced to come down 
 into the king's room, and bring with her all that was required 
 for her toilet. 
 
 Another wanted to follow her when, according to her cus- 
 tom, she went into Madame Elisabeth's room to change her 
 morning dress. I represented to him the indecency of that 
 proceeding. He insisted; Her Majesty then left the room 
 and renounced dressing herself. 
 
 When I received the linen from the wash, the municipals 
 made me unfold every piece and examine it in broad day- 
 light. The washerwoman's book and all other papers were 
 held to the fire to see if there was secret writing on them. 
 The linen the king and the princesses took off was subjected 
 to the same examination. 
 
 Some municipals, however, did not take part in the harsh- 
 ness of their colleagues ; but most of these, becoming sus- 
 pected by the Committee of Public Safety, died victims of 
 their humanity ; those who still live have languished long 
 in prison. 
 
 A young man named Toulan, whom I thought, from his 
 talk, to be one of the worst enemies of the royal family, 
 came one day close to me and said, with mystery, " I cannot 
 speak to the queen to-day on account of my comrades ; tell 
 her that the commission she gave me is done, and that in a 
 few days I shall be on duty, and then I will bring her the 
 answer." Astonished to hear him speak thus, and fearing 
 that he was laying a trap, I replied, " Monsieur, you are mis- 
 taken in addressing yourself to me for such commissions." 
 
158 MADAME lELISABETH DE FKANCE. [chap, ii, 
 
 ' No, I am not mistaken," he replied, grasping my hand as 
 he left me. I related the conversation to the queen. " You 
 can trust Toulan," she said. This young man was afterwards 
 implicated in the queen's trial, with nine other municipal 
 of&cers accused of wishing to favour the escape of the queen 
 from the Temple. Toulan perished in the last executions. 
 
 Their Majesties, shut up in the Tower for three months, 
 had so far seen none but the municipal officers, when, on the 
 1st of November, a deputation from the National Conven- 
 tion was announced to them. It was composed of Drouet, 
 post-master at Varennes, Chabot, an ex-capuchin, Dubois- 
 Crance, Duprat, and two others whose names I forget. This 
 deputation asked the king how he was treated and whether 
 they gave him all necessary things. " I complain of noth- 
 ing," answered His Majesty. "I merely request that the 
 commissioners will remit to my valet de chambre, or deposit 
 with the council, the sum of two thousand francs for small 
 current expenses ; also, that we may receive linen and other 
 clothing of which we are greatly in need." The deputies 
 promised all this, but nothing was sent. 
 
 Some days later the king had quite a considerable swelling 
 of his face ; I asked urgently that his dentist, M. Dubois, 
 might be sent for. They deliberated three days, and then 
 refused the request. Fever set in, and then, at last, they 
 permitted His Majesty to consult his head physician, M. le 
 Monnier. It would be difficult to picture the distress of that 
 respectable old man when he saw his master. 
 
 The queen and her children almost never left the king 
 during the day ; they nursed him with me, and often helped 
 me in making his bed. I passed the nights alone beside 
 him. M. le Monnier came twice a day, accompanied by a 
 large number of municipals. His person was searched, and 
 he was not allowed to speak except in a loud voice. One day 
 
1792] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 159 
 
 when the king had taken medicine, M. le Monnier asked to 
 be allowed to remain a few hours. As he remained stand- 
 ing, — the municipals being seated with their hats on their 
 heads, — the king asked him to take a seat ; he refused, out 
 of respect, and the commissioners murmured loudly. 
 
 The king's illness lasted ten days. A few days later the 
 young prince, who slept in His Majesty's room, the munici- 
 pals refusing to transfer him to that of the queen, had fever. 
 The queen felt all the more anxiety because she could not 
 obtain permission, though she urged it eagerly, to stay during 
 the night with her son. She gave him the most tender care 
 during the hours she was allowed to be with him. The 
 same illness was communicated to the queen, to Madame 
 Eoyale, and to Madame Elisabeth. M. le Monnier obtained 
 permission to continue his visits. 
 
 I fell ill in my turn. The room I occupied was damp and 
 without a chimney ; the shutter of the window intercepted 
 what little air there was. I was attacked by rheumatic 
 fever with severe pains in the side which forced me to keep 
 my bed. The first day I rose to dress the king, but His 
 Majesty, seeing my state, refused my care, ordered me to go 
 to bed, and himself dressed his son. 
 
 During that first day the dauphin hardly left me ; that 
 august child gave me drink ; in the evening, the king took 
 advantage of a moment when he seemed to be less watched, 
 to enter my room ; he gave me a glass of some drink, and 
 said, with a kindness that made me shed tears : " I should 
 like to take care of you myself, but you know how we are 
 watched ; take courage ; to-morrow you shall see my doctor." 
 At supper-time, the royal family came into my room and 
 Madame Elisabeth gave me, without the municipals observ- 
 ing it, a bottle containing syrup of squills ; the princess, 
 although she had a heavy cold, deprived herself of that 
 
160 MADAME :feLISABETH DE FRANCE. [chap. ii. 
 
 remedy for me. I wanted to refuse it, but she insisted. 
 After supper, the queen undressed the dauphin and put him 
 to bed ; and Madame Elisabeth rolled the king's hair. 
 
 The next morning M. le Monnier ordered me to be bled ; 
 but the consent of the Commune had to be obtained to the 
 entrance of a surgeon. They talked of transferring me to 
 the palace of the Temple. Fearing that I should never get 
 back into the Tower if I once went out of it, 1 pretended to 
 feel much better. That evening new municipals arrived and 
 there was no further question of transferring me. 
 
 Turgy asked to pass the night with me. The request was 
 granted, also to his two comrades who took turns in sitting 
 up with me. I was six days in bed, and each day the royal 
 family came to see me; Madame Elisabeth often brought 
 me things she used for herself. So much kindness restored 
 a portion of my strength, for instead of the feeling of my 
 sufferings, I had that of gratitude and admiration. Who 
 would not have been touched to see that august family sus- 
 pend, as it were, the thought of its great misfortunes, to 
 busy itself with those of its servant? 
 
 I ought not to forget here a trait of the dauphin which 
 proves the goodness of his heart and how much he profited 
 by the examples of virtue he had always before his eyes. 
 
 One night, after putting him to bed, I retired to make 
 way for the queen and the princesses, who always came to 
 kiss him for good-night in his bed. Madame Elisabeth, with 
 whom the close watchfulness of the municipals had that day 
 prevented me from speaking, took advantage of that moment 
 to give him a little box of ipecacuanha tablets, telling him to 
 give them to me when I returned. The princesses went up 
 to their rooms, the king passed into his cabinet, and I went 
 to supper. I returned about eleven o'clock to prepare the 
 king's bed ; I was alone ; the little prince called me in a low 
 
i:'J2] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 161 
 
 voice. Much surprised at finding him awake and fearing he 
 was ill, I went to him. " My aunt gave me this little box for 
 you," he said, " and 1 would not go to sleep without giving it 
 to you ; it was high time you came, for my eyes have shut 
 up several times." Miue filled with tears ; he saw them 
 and kissed me, and in two minutes more he was sound 
 asleep. 
 
 To this sensibility the young prince added many graces 
 and the lovability of his age. Often by his naivete, the 
 gaiety of his nature, and his little rogueries he made his 
 parents forget for a moment their cruel situation. But he 
 felt it himself; although so yoimg, he knew he was in a 
 prison and watched by enemies. His behaviour and his 
 talk acquired that reserve which instiact, in presence of a 
 danger iuspires perhaps at any age. Never did I hear him 
 mention the TuHeries, or Versailles, or any subject that 
 might remind the queen or the king of painful memories. 
 When he saw some municipal kinder than his colleagues on 
 guard, he would run to his mother and say with an expres- 
 sion of great satisfaction : '' Mamma, it is Monsieur Such-a- 
 one to-day." 
 
 Once he fixed his eyes so long on a municipal, seeming to 
 recognize him, that the man asked where he had seen him. 
 The little prince refused for sometime to answer; at last, 
 leaning towards the queen, he said to her in a whisper, " It 
 was when we went to Varennes." 
 
 Here is still another proof of his sensitive feelings. A 
 mason was employed in making holes in the wall of the 
 antechamber so as to put enormous bolts to the door. While 
 the man ate his breakfast the little prince amused himself 
 with his tools ; the king took the hammer and chisel from 
 his son's hands and showed him how to use them. The 
 mason, touched at seeing the king work, said to His Majesty : 
 
 11 
 
162 MADAME ]&LISABETH DE FKANCE. [chap. ii. 
 
 " When you get out of here you can say that you worked 
 yourself at your prison." — " Ah ! " said the king, " when and 
 how shall I get out ? " The little prince burst into tears ; 
 the king let fall the hammer and chisel and went back to his 
 room, where he walked up and down with hasty strides. 
 
 December 2d, the municipality of the 10th of August 
 was replaced by another, under the title of Provisional 
 Municipality. Many of the former members were re-elected. 
 I thought, at first, that the new set were better than the 
 old, and I hoped for some favourable changes in the system 
 of the prison. I was mistaken. Many of the new commis- 
 sioners gave me reason to regret their predecessors ; the 
 latter were coarser, it is true, but it was easy to take ad- 
 vantage of their natural indiscretion to find out all they 
 knew. I had to study the commissioners of the new muni- 
 cipality to judge of their conduct and their character ; their 
 malignity was much more premeditated. 
 
 Until this time only one municipal was constantly on 
 guard over the king, and one over the queen. The new 
 municipality ordered two, and henceforth it was much more 
 difficult for me to speak with the king and the princesses. 
 On the other hand, the council, which until then had been 
 held in one of the halls of the Temple palace, was trans- 
 ferred to a room on the ground-floor of the Tower, The 
 new municipals wished to surpass the former ones in zeal, 
 and this zeal was emulation of tyranny. 
 
 December 7, a municipal, at the head of a deputation 
 from the Commune, came to read to the king a decree which 
 ordered him to take from the prisoners " knives, razors, scis- 
 sors, penknives, and all other sharp instruments of which 
 prisoners presumed criminal are deprived ; and to make a 
 most minute search of their persons and of their apartments." 
 
 During the reading, the municipal's voice shook, and it 
 
1792] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 163 
 
 was easy to see the violence he was putting upon himself; 
 and he afterwards proved by his conduct that he had 
 allowed himself to be sent to the Temple solely to endeav- 
 our to be useful to the royal family. The king took from 
 his pockets a knife and a little case of red morocco, from 
 which he drew scissors and a penknife. The municipals 
 made the most careful search through the apartments, 
 taking razors, a ruler for rolling hair, a toilet-knife, little 
 instruments for cleanirig the teeth, and other articles in gold 
 and silver. The same search was made in my room, and I 
 was ordered to give up whatever was on my person. 
 
 The municipals then went up to the queen : they read the 
 same decree to the three princesses and took away from them 
 even the little articles that were necessary for their work. 
 
 An hour later, I was made to go down into the council- 
 chamber, and they asked me if I knew what articles re- 
 mained in the red morocco case the king had put back into 
 his pocket. "I order you," said a municipal named Ser- 
 maize, " to take that case away from him to-night." " It is 
 not my place," I said, " to execute the decrees of the Con- 
 vention, nor to search the king's pockets." " Cl^ry is right," 
 said another municipal ; " it was your place," addressing 
 Sermaize, "to make that search." 
 
 They then drew up a procis-^erhal of all the articles 
 taken from the royal family, and sorted them into packets, 
 which they sealed up ; they next ordered me to sign my 
 name at the bottom of a decree which enjoined me to re- 
 port to the council if I discovered on the king or the prin- 
 cesses, or in their apartments, any sharp instruments ; these 
 different documents were sent to the Commune. 
 
 On looking through the registers of the Temple it will be 
 seen that I was often forced to sign decrees of which I was 
 very far from approving either the object or the wording. I 
 
164 MADAME I^LISABETH DE FRANCE. [chap. ii. 
 
 never signed anything, never said anything, never did any- 
 thing, except by the special order of the king or of the 
 queen. A refusal on my part would have caused my sep- 
 aration from Their Majesties, to whom I had consecrated 
 my existence ; my signature at the foot of certain decrees 
 had no other meaning than to admit that those documents 
 had been read to me. 
 
 This Sermaize of whom I have just spoken took me back 
 to the apartment of His Majesty. The king was sitting 
 near the fireplace, tongs in hand. Sermaize asked him, in 
 the name of the council, to show what remained in the red 
 morocco case. The king drew it from his pocket ; in it was 
 a screw-driver, a corkscrew, and a flint. Sermaize took pos- 
 session of them. " Are not these tongs which I have in my 
 hand sharp instruments ? " said the king, turning his back 
 upon him. 
 
 At dinner-time an argument arose among the commission- 
 ers. Some were opposed to the use by the royal family of 
 knives and forks ; others consented to allow forks ; at last 
 it was decided to make no change; but to take away the 
 knives and forks at the conclusion of each meal. 
 
 This deprivation of their little articles was all the more 
 trying to the queen and the princesses because it obliged 
 them to give up various kinds of work which until then had 
 served to occupy and amuse those long days in prison. One 
 day, when Madame Elisabeth was mending the king's 
 clothes, she broke off the thread with her teeth, having no 
 scissors. " What a contrast ! " said the king, looking at her 
 fixedly and tenderly ; " you lacked for nothing in your pretty 
 house at Montreuil." " Ah ! brother," she replied, " can I 
 have regrets when I share your sorrow ? ^ 
 
 1 Madame l&lisabeth was always notable and clever at work of all kinds. 
 One of her ladies, watching her one day, said what a pity it was that such 
 
1792] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 165 
 
 Day after day brought new decrees each of which was a 
 fresh tyranny. The roughness and harshness of the muni- 
 cipals towards me was greater than ever. The three men 
 from the kitchen were forbidden to speak to me ; this, and 
 other things made me fear some fresh catastrophe. The 
 queen and Madame Elisabeth, struck by the same presenti- 
 ment, asked me constantly for news, which I could not give 
 them. 
 
 At last, on Thursday, my wife and her friend arrived. I 
 was taken down to the council-chamber. She talked, as 
 usual, in a loud voice to disarm the suspicions of our new 
 jailers ; and while she was giving me details of our domestic 
 affairs her friend said : " Next Tuesday, they take the king 
 to the Convention ; his trial will begin ; he may get coun- 
 sel; all this is certain." 
 
 I did not know how to announce this dreadful news to 
 the king ; I wanted to inform the queen or Madame Elisa- 
 beth of it first ; but I was in great alarm ; time was passing, 
 and the king had forbidden me to conceal anything from 
 him. That night, as I undressed him, I told him what I 
 had heard ; I made him foresee that they would certainly 
 during his trial separate him from his family ; and I added 
 that there were but four days in which to concert with the 
 queen some method of communication between them. I 
 assured him that I was determined to undertake everything 
 that would facilitate that object. The entrance of a munici- 
 pal did not allow me to say more and prevented His Majesty 
 from replying to me. 
 
 The next day, when he rose, I could not find a chance 
 to speak to him. He went up with his son to breakfast 
 
 a faculty was wasted on one who did not need it. "Ah!" exclaimed 
 Madame Elisabeth, " it is good to do everything as well as one can ; and, 
 besides, who knows ? I may have to get my living in this way." — Tk. 
 
166 MADAME :feLISABETH DE FRANCE. [chap. ii. 
 
 with the princesses and I followed him. After breakfast 
 he talked some time with the queen and I saw by her look 
 of sorrow that he was telling her what I had said to him. 
 I found, in the course of the day, an opportunity to talk 
 with Madame Elisabeth; I explained to her how much it 
 had cost me to inform the king of his coming trial and 
 thus increase his troubles. She reassured me, saying that 
 the king was much touched by that mark of my attach- 
 ment. " What troubles him most," she added, " is the fear of 
 being separated from us ; try to get more information." 
 
 That evening the king told me how glad he was to have 
 heard in advance that he was to appear before the Conven- 
 tion. " Continue," he said, " to try to discover what they 
 mean to do with me ; do not fear to distress me. I have 
 agreed with my family not to seem informed, in order not 
 to compromise you." 
 
 The nearer the day of the trial approached, the more dis- 
 trust was shown to me ; the municipals would not reply to 
 any of my questions. I had already employed, in vain, 
 various pretexts to go down into the council-chamber, where 
 I might have picked up some new details to communicate 
 to the king, when the commission appointed to audit the 
 expenses of the royal family came to the Temple. They 
 were obliged then to let me go down to give information, 
 and I heard from a well-intentioned municipal that the 
 separation of the king from his family, though decreed by 
 the Commune, was not yet decided in the National As- 
 sembly. That same day Turgy brought me a newspaper in 
 which I found the decree, which ordered that the king be 
 brought before the bar of the Convention ; he also gave me 
 a memorial on the king's trial, published by M. Necker. 
 I had no other means of conveying the paper and memorial 
 to the king than to place them under one of the articles of 
 
1792] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 167 
 
 furniture in the privy, telling the king and the princesses 
 that they were there. 
 
 December 11, 1792, at five o'clock in the morning, we 
 heard the gemrale beaten throughout Paris, and cavalry 
 and cannon were brought into the garden of the Temple. 
 This uproar would have cruelly alarmed the royal family 
 if they had not akeady known its cause. Nevertheless, they 
 feigned to be ignorant of it, and asked an explanation of the 
 commissioners on duty, who refused to reply. 
 
 At nine o'clock the king and the dauphin went up to 
 breakfast in the queen's apartment. Their Majesties re- 
 mained about an hour together; always under the gaze of 
 the municipals. This continual torture for all the family 
 of never being able to show any emotion, any effusion of 
 feeling at a moment when so many fears agitated them, was 
 one of the most refined cruelties of their tyrants and the one 
 in which those tyrants took most delight. The time came to 
 separate. The king quitted the queen, Madame Elisabeth, 
 and his daughter ; their looks expressed what they could 
 not say. The dauphin went down, as usual, with the 
 king. 
 
 The little prmce, who often persuaded his father to play 
 a game of Siam with him, was so urgent that day that the 
 king, in spite of his situation, could not refuse. The dauphin 
 lost all the games, and twice could not go higher than six- 
 teen. "Every time I get to that point Seize I lose the 
 game," he said with some vexation. The king made no 
 reply; but I thought I saw that the sound of that word 
 made a certain impression on him. 
 
 At eleven o'clock, while the king was giving his son a 
 reading-lesson, two municipals entered and told His Majesty 
 that they had come to fetch young Louis and take him to 
 his mother. The king wished to know the reason of this 
 
168 MADAME :fcLISABETH DE FRANCE. [chap. ii. 
 
 removal ; tlie commissioiiers replied that they executed the 
 orders of the council of the Commune. His Majesty kissed 
 his son tenderly, and charged me to go with him. When I 
 returned to the king, I told him I had left the young prince 
 in his mother's arms, and that seemed to tranquillize His 
 Majesty. One of the commissioners entered to inform him 
 that Chambon, mayor of Paris, was in the council-chamber 
 and was coming up to see him. " What does he want 
 of me?" asked the king. "I do not know," replied the 
 municipal. 
 
 His Majesty walked hastily up and down his room for 
 some moments ; then he seated himself in an arm-chair close 
 to the head of his bed; the door was half closed and the 
 municipal dared not enter, to avoid, as he told me, questions. 
 Half an hour passed thus in the deepest silence. The com- 
 missioner became uneasy at not hearing the king ; he entered 
 softly, and found him with his head on one of his hands, 
 apparently deeply absorbed. " What do you want ? " asked 
 the king, in a loud voice. " I feared you were ill," replied 
 the municipal. " I am obliged to you," said the kiag, in a 
 tone of the keenest sorrow, " but the manner in which my 
 son has been taken from me is infinitely painful to me." The 
 municipal said nothing and withdrew. 
 
 The mayor did not appear for an hour. He was accom- 
 panied by Chaumette, public prosecutor of the Commune, 
 Colombeau, secretary, several municipal officers, and Santerre, 
 commander of the National Guard, who brought his aides-de- 
 camp with him. 
 
 The mayor told the king that he had come to fetch him 
 to take him before the Convention, in virtue of a decree which 
 the secretary of the Commune would read to him. This 
 decree stated that " Louis Capet would be arraigned before 
 the bar of the National Convention." " Capet is not my 
 
1792] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 169 
 
 name," said the king ; " it is the name of one of mj ances- 
 tors. I could have wished, monsieur," he added, " that the 
 commissioners had left me my son during the two hours I 
 have passed in waiting for you. This treatment is but the 
 sequel of all that I have borne here for the past four months • 
 I shall now follow you, not to obey the Convention, but 
 because my enemies have the power to force me." I gave 
 His Majesty his overcoat and his hat, and he followed the 
 mayor of Paris. A numerous escort awaited him at the gate 
 of the Temple. 
 
 Left alone in the room with a municipal I learned from 
 him that the king would never see his family again, but that 
 the mayor was to consult with some of the deputies about 
 the separation. I asked the commissioner to take me to the 
 dauphin, who was with the queen, which he did. I did not 
 leave the little prince until six o'clock, when the king re- 
 turned from the Convention. The municipals informed the 
 queen of the king's departure for the Assembly, but they 
 would not enter into any details. The princesses and the 
 dauphin went down as usual to dine in the king's room, and 
 returned to their own immediately. 
 
 After dinner a single municipal remained in the queen's 
 room ; he was a young man about twenty-four years of age, 
 belonging to the section of the Temple ; he was on guard at 
 the Tower for the first time, and seemed to be less suspicious 
 and more civil than most of his colleagues. The queen be- 
 gan a conversation with him, asked him about his profession, 
 his parents, etc. Madame Elisabeth seized the moment to 
 pass into her own room, and made me a sign to follow 
 her. 
 
 Once there, I told her that the Commune had decreed the 
 separation of the king from his family, that I feared it would 
 take place that very evening, for although the Convention 
 
170 MADAME I:LISABETH DE FRANCE. [chap. ii. 
 
 had not determined on it, the mayor had gone there to make 
 the request, which would, no doubt, be granted. 
 
 " The queen and I," answered Madame Elisabeth, " expect 
 the worst ; we make ourselves no illusions as to the fate they 
 are preparing for the king. He will die a victim to his kind- 
 ness and his love for his people, for whose happiness he has 
 never ceased to work since he ascended the throne. How 
 cruelly that people is deceived! The king's religion and 
 his great confidence in Providence will sustain him in this 
 cruel adversity. "And now, Cl^ry," added the virtuous 
 princess, her eyes filling with tears, " you will be alone with 
 my brother ; redouble, if possible, your care of him, and neg- 
 lect no means of making news of him reach us ; but for any 
 other purpose do not expose yourself, for if you do we shall 
 be left with no one in whom we can trust." I assured 
 Madame Elisabeth of my devotion to the king, and we agreed 
 upon the means to employ to keep up a correspondence. 
 
 Turgy was the only one whom I could put into the secret ; 
 but I could seldom speak to him, and then with precaution. 
 It was agreed that I should continue to take care of the 
 linen and clothes of the dauphin ; that every two days I 
 should send him what was necessary, and that I should use 
 that opportunity to convey to them news of what was happen- 
 ing with the king. This suggested to Madame Elisabeth the 
 idea of giving me one of her handkerchiefs. " Keep it," she 
 said, " as long as my brother is well ; if he should be ill send 
 it to me in my nephew's linen." The manner of folding it 
 was to indicate the sort of illness. 
 
 The grief of the princess in speaking to me of the king, 
 her indifference as to her personal situation, the value she 
 deigned to set on my poor services to His Majesty affected 
 me deeply. " Have you heard anything said of the queen ? " 
 she asked with a species of terror. " Alas ! what can they 
 
1792] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 171 
 
 bring against her ? " " No, Madame," I replied, " but what 
 can they bring against the king ? " " Oh, nothing, nothing," 
 she said, "but perhaps they regard the king as a victim 
 necessary to their safety. The queen, on the contrary, and 
 her children cannot be obstacles to their ambition." I took 
 the liberty of remarking that probably the king would be 
 sentenced only to transportation ; that I had heard it spoken 
 of, and that Spain, being the only country that had not de- 
 clared war, it was likely that the king and his family would 
 be taken there. " I have no hope," she said, " that the king 
 will be saved." 
 
 I thought I ought to add that the foreign Powers were 
 consulting as to the means of drawing the king out of prison ; 
 that Monsieur and the Comte d'Artois were again assembling 
 the emigres around them, and would unite them with the 
 Austrian and Prussian troops; that Spain and England 
 would take steps ; that all Europe was interested in prevent- 
 ing the death of the king, and therefore that the Convention 
 would have to reflect very seriously before deciding his fate. 
 
 This conversation lasted an hour, and then Madame Elisa- 
 beth (to whom I had never before spoken at such length), 
 fearing the entrance of the new municipals, left me to return 
 to the queen's apartment. Tison and his wife, who watched 
 me incessantly, remarked that I had stayed a long time 
 with Madame Elisabeth, and they were afraid that the com- 
 missioner would notice it. I told them that the princess had 
 been talking to me about her nephew, who would probably 
 be in future with his mother. 
 
 At six o'clock the commissioners sent for me into the 
 council-room. They read me a decree of the Commune 
 which ordered me to have no further communication with 
 the three princesses and the little prince, because I was to 
 serve the king only. It was also decreed, in order to put the 
 
172 MADAME l&LISABETH DE FRANCE. [chap. ii. 
 
 king into more solitary confinement, that I should no longer 
 sleep in his apartment, bnt in the small tower, and be con- 
 ducted to the king at such times only as he had need of 
 me. 
 
 At half-past six o'clock the king returned from the Con- 
 vention. He seemed fatigued, and his first desire was to be 
 taken to his family. The request was refused under pretext 
 of having no orders ; he insisted that the queen should at 
 least be told of his return, and this was promised to him. 
 He ordered me to ask for his supper at half-past eight 
 o'clock ; and he employed the interval in his usual reading, 
 surrounded by four municipals. 
 
 At half -past eight I went to inform His Majesty that his 
 supper was served ; he asked the commissioners if his family 
 were not coming down ; they made him no answer, " But 
 at least," said the king, " my son will pass the night with 
 me, his bed and clothes being here." Same silence. After 
 supper the king again insisted on his desire to see his family. 
 They answered that he must await the decision of the Con- 
 vention. I then gave out what was necessary for the young 
 prince's bedtime. 
 
 That evening, while I was undressing the king, he said : 
 " I was very far from expecting the questions that were put 
 to me." He went to bed tranquilly. The decree of the 
 Commune relating to my removal during the night was not 
 executed ; it would have been too troublesome to the muni- 
 cipals to have fetched me every time the king needed me. 
 
 The next day, 12th, the king no sooner saw the municipals 
 than he asked if a decision had been made on his request to 
 see his family. They told him they were still awaiting 
 orders. The king commanded me to have the young prince's 
 bed taken up to the queen's room, where he had passed the 
 night on one of her mattresses. I begged His Majesty to 
 
1792] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 173 
 
 wait for the decision of the Convention. " I do not expect 
 any justice, any consideration," replied the king, " but I will 
 wait." 
 
 The same day a deputation of four members of the Con- 
 vention brought to the king a decree authorizing him to 
 obtain counsel. He declared that he chose M. Target, and 
 faning him, M. Tronchet, or both of them if the National 
 Convention consented. The deputies made the king sign 
 his request, and signed it themselves after him. The king 
 added that it would be necessary to furnish him with paper, 
 pens, and ink. 
 
 On the 13th, in the morning, the same deputation returned 
 and told the king that M. Target refused to be his counsel ; 
 that M. Tronchet had been sent for and would doubtless ap- 
 pear during the day. They also read to him several letters ad- 
 dressed to the Convention by MM. Sourdat, Huet-Guillaume, 
 and Lamoignon de Malesherbes, formerly president of the 
 cour des aides and afterwards minister of the king's house. 
 Malesherbes' letter was as follows : — 
 
 Paris, December 11, 1792. 
 Citizen Pkesident, — I do not know whether the Conven- 
 tion will give Louis XVI. counsel to defend him, or whether it 
 wiU leave the selection to him. In the latter case, I desire 
 that Louis XVI. should know that if he chooses me for that 
 function I am ready to devote myself to it. I do not ask 
 you to lay my offer before the Convention, because I am far 
 from thinking myself of enough importance to occupy its 
 time ; but I have twice been called to the counsel of him who 
 was once my master, in days when every one was ambitious 
 of that function; I owe him the same service when that 
 function is one which many persons would thiak dangerous. 
 If I knew any possible means of letting him know my in- 
 
174 MADAME :feLISABETH DE FRANCE. [chap. ii. 
 
 clinations, I would not take the liberty of addressing you. 
 
 I think that in the position you occupy, you will have better 
 
 means than any one to convey to him this suggestion. I am, 
 
 with respect, etc., 
 
 Lamoignon de Malesherbes. 
 
 His Majesty replied as follows to the deputation: "I 
 am sensible of the offers that so many persons have made, 
 asking to serve me as counsel, and I beg you to express to 
 them my gratitude. I accept M. de Malesherbes as my 
 counsel ; if M, Tronchet cannot lend me his services, I will 
 consult M. de Malesherbes and choose some one to fill his 
 place." 
 
1792] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 175 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 The King's Trial — His "Will — The Decree of the Convention con- 
 demning the King to Death — Last Meeting with his Eamily — Leaves 
 the Temple for his Execution. 
 
 December 14, M. Tronchet had, as the decree permitted, 
 a conference with His Majesty. The same day M. de Male- 
 sherbes was brought to the Tower. The king ran forward to 
 meet that respected old man, whom he tenderly pressed in 
 his arms. The former minister burst into tears on seeing 
 his master, whether because he recalled the past years of his 
 reign, or, more probably, because he faced at that moment a 
 virtuous man in the grasp of misfortune.^ 
 
 As the king had permission to confer with his counsel in 
 private, I closed the door of his room that he might speak 
 more freely with M. de Malesherbes. A municipal blamed 
 me, ordered the door to be opened, and forbade me to shut it 
 again ; I opened the door, but the king was already in the 
 tourelle. 
 
 On the 15th, the king received the reply regarding his 
 family, which was, in substance, as follows : the queen 
 and Madame Elisabeth could not communicate with the king 
 during the course of his trial ; his children might go to him 
 if he desired it, but on condition that they should not see 
 their mother or their aunt until the trial was over. As soon 
 as it was possible to speak to the king freely, I asked his 
 orders. " You see," he said, " the cruel alternative in which 
 they place me ; I cannot resolve to have my children with 
 
 1 Lamoignon de Malesherbes, aged 73, was guillotined just before the 
 9th thermidor (July 27, 1794), the end of the Eeign of Terror. — Tr. 
 
176 MADAME IlLISABETH DE FRANCE. [chap. in. 
 
 me ; as for my daughter, it is impossible ; as for my son, I 
 feel the grief it would occasion to the queen ; I must consent to 
 this fresh sacrifice." His Majesty then ordered me for the 
 second time to have the dauphin's bed sent up to the queen's 
 room, which I did immediately. I kept his linen and his 
 clothes, and every second day I sent up what was necessary 
 as agreed upon with Madame Elisabeth. 
 
 On the 16th, at four in the afternoon, came another depu- 
 tation of four members of the Convention, accompanied by a 
 secretary, a sheriff, and an officer of the Gardes. They brought 
 the king his arraignment, and certain documents on which 
 the accusations were based ; most of them found at the 
 Tuileries in a secret closet of His Majesty's apartment, 
 called by the minister Eoland " the iron closet." 
 
 The reading of these documents, one hundred and seven 
 in all, lasted from four o'clock till midnight ; all were read 
 to and signed by the king, and copies of each were left in 
 his hands. The king was seated at a large table ; M. Tron- 
 chet beside him, the deputies opposite. His Majesty inter- 
 rupted the long session by asking the deputies if they would 
 sup ; they accepted, and I served them a cold chicken and 
 some fruit in the dining-room. M. Tronchet would take 
 nothing, and remained alone with the king in his room. 
 
 A municipal, named Merceraut, then a stone-cutter and 
 lately president of the Commune of Paris, though a porter 
 of sedan chairs at Versailles before the Ee volution, was on 
 guard that day in the Tower for the first time. He wore 
 his working-clothes in tatters, with a very old round hat, a 
 leather apron, and his three-coloured scarf. The man affected 
 to stretch himself out in an arm-chair beside the king, who 
 was in a common chair ; he thee'd and thou'd, with his hat 
 on his head, all who spoke to him. The members of the 
 Convention were amazed, and while they supped, one of them 
 
1792] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 177 
 
 asked me several questions as to how the king was treated. 
 I was about to answer when a commissioner told the con- 
 ventional it was forbidden to speak to me, and that they 
 would give him in the council-chamber all the details he 
 could require. The deputy, fearing no doubt to compromise 
 himself, said no more. 
 
 Among the bundles of documents were plans for the Con- 
 stitution, annotated by the king's own hand, sometimes in 
 ink, sometimes in pencil. There were also police registers 
 in which were denunciations made and signed by the king's 
 own servants ; this ingratitude seemed to affect him much ; 
 these accusers rendered an account of what occurred in the 
 king's room and the queen's room at the Tuileries in order 
 to give a more truthful air to their calumnies. 
 
 Erom the 14th to the 26th of December, the king saw 
 his counsel regularly. They came at five in the evening 
 and retired at nine. M. de Sfeze was added to them. Every 
 morning M. de Malesherbes brought the newspapers to his 
 Majesty with the printed opinions of the deputies relating 
 to his trial. He prepared the work for the evening, and re- 
 mained with the king for one or two hours. His Majesty 
 deigned to sometimes let me read those opinions ; once he 
 asked : " What do you think of that man's opinion ? " adding, 
 " I have learned how far the malignancy of men can go ; I 
 did not believe that there were such men." His Majesty 
 never went to bed without reading all the different papers, 
 and, in order not to compromise M. de Malesherbes, he 
 took the precaution to burn them himself in the stove 
 in his cabinet. 
 
 By this time I had found a favourable moment to speak 
 to Turgy and send news to Madame Elisabeth about the 
 king. The next day he told me that in giving him her 
 napkin after dinner she had slipped in a little note in pin- 
 
 12 
 
178 MADAME lELISABETH DE FRANCE. [chap. hi. 
 
 pricks asking the king to write her a line himself. The 
 day after, I took the note to Turgy, who brought me the 
 answer inside a ball of cotton, which he threw on my bed 
 as he passed it. His Majesty took great comfort in the 
 success of this means of communicating with his family. 
 The wax-candles which the commissioners gave me came 
 tied up with twine in bundles. As soon as I had twine 
 enough I told the king that we could give greater activity 
 than before to the correspondence, by sending up a part of 
 it to Madame Elisabeth whose room was directly over mine, 
 with its window perpendicularly above that of a little corri- 
 dor upon which my room opened. During the night the 
 princess could attach letters to the string and lower them 
 down to the passage window. The same means would serve to 
 send answers to the princess, also paper and ink, of which she 
 was deprived. " That is a good project," the king said to me ; 
 "we will use it if the other means become impracticable." 
 In point of fact, he soon used it exclusively. He always 
 waited till eight in the evening ; I then shut the door of my 
 room and that of the corridor, and went to talk to the com- 
 missioners or get them to play cards, which diverted their 
 attention. 
 
 After his separation from his family the king refused to 
 go into the garden, and when it was proposed to him to do 
 so he answered : " I cannot resolve to go out alone ; walking 
 was only agreeable to me when I enjoyed it with my family." 
 But, in spite of being thus parted from objects so dear to his 
 heart, no complaints or murmurs escaped him; he had al- 
 ready pardoned his oppressors. Each day he gathered in 
 his reading-room the strength that maintained his courage ; 
 when he left it he entered the details of a life always uni- 
 form yet embellished by him with little traits of kindness. 
 He deigned to treat me as if I were more than his servant ; 
 
1792] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 179 
 
 he treated the municipals who guarded his person as if he 
 had no reason to complain of them ; he talked to them, as 
 formerly with his subjects, on matters relating to their condi- 
 tion, their family, their children, the advantages and duties 
 of their profession. Those who listened were astonished at the 
 accuracy of his remarks, at the variety of his knowledge, and 
 at the manner in which it was all classified in his memory. 
 His conversations did not have as their object the distraction 
 of his mind from his troubles ; his sensibility was keen and 
 deep, but his resignation rose superior to his sorrows. 
 
 On the 19th of December the king said to me while din- 
 ing : " Fourteen years ago you got up earlier than you did 
 to-day." I understood His Majesty at once. "That was the 
 day my daughter was born," he continued tenderly, "and 
 to-day, her birthday, I am deprived of seeing her ! " A few 
 tears rolled from his eyes, and a respectful silence reigned 
 for a moment. 
 
 The day for his second appearance before the bar of the 
 Convention was approaching. He had not been able to 
 shave since they took away his razors; he suffered much 
 in consequence, and was obliged to bathe his face in cold 
 water several times a day. He asked me for scissors or a 
 razor; but he was not willing to speak to the municipals 
 about it himself. I took the liberty of remarking to him 
 that if he appeared in his present condition before the Con- 
 vention the people would see with what barbarity the coun- 
 cil of the Commune had acted. " I ought not to try to 
 interest persons in that way in my fate," replied the king; 
 " I will address the commissioners." The following day the 
 Commune decided to return the razors to the king, but for 
 use only in presence of two municipals.^ 
 
 During the three days that preceded Christmas, 1792, the 
 
 ^ See Appendix III. 
 
180 MADAME l&LISABETH DE FEANCE. [chap. hi. 
 
 king wrote more than usual. There was then a project of 
 making him stay at the Feuillants for two or three days in 
 order that he might be tried continuously. They had even 
 given me orders to prepare to follow him and to get ready 
 all that he might need ; but that plan was changed. 
 
 It was on Christmas Day that the king wrote his will. 
 I read it and copied it at the time it was handed over to the 
 council of the Temple ; it was written entirely by the king's 
 own hand, with a few erasures. I think I ought to give 
 here this monument, already celebrated, of his innocence 
 and his piety: — 
 
 THE LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF LOUIS XVI., KING OF 
 
 FKANCE. 
 
 In the name of the Holy Trinity, Father, Son, and Holy 
 Spirit. This day, twenty-fifth of December, one thousand 
 seven hundred and ninety-two, I, Louis, sixteenth of the 
 name, King of France, being for the last four months shut 
 up with my family in the Tower of the Temple by those 
 who were my subjects, and deprived of all communication 
 whatsoever since the eleventh of the present month with my 
 family ; involved moreover in a trial of which it is impos- 
 sible to foresee the issue, because of the passions of men, 
 and for which no pretext or means can be found in existing 
 laws ; having G-od as the sole witness of my thoughts and 
 the only being to whom I can address myself, I here declare 
 in his presence my last will and sentiments. 
 
 I leave my soul to God, my Creator ; I pray him to re- 
 ceive it in his mercy ; not to judge it according to its own 
 merits, but by those of our Lord Jesus Christ, who offered 
 himself a sacrifice to God, his Father, for us men, however 
 unworthy we may be, and I first of any. 
 
1792] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 181 
 
 I die in the union of our Holy Mother, the Catholic, 
 Apostolical, and Eoman Church, which derives its powers by 
 an uninterrupted succession from Saint Peter to whom Jesus 
 Christ confided them. 
 
 I believe firmly and confess all that is contained in the 
 symbol and the commandments of God and of the Church, 
 the sacraments and the mysteries such as the Catholic 
 Church teaches and has always taught them. I have never 
 pretended to make myself a judge of the different manners 
 of explaining the dogmas that rend the Church of Jesus 
 Christ; but I have relied, and shall always rely, if God 
 gives me life, on the decisions which the ecclesiastical su- 
 periors of the holy Catholic Church give and will give in 
 conformity with the discipline of the Church, followed since 
 Jesus Christ. 
 
 I pity with all my heart our brothers who may be in 
 error ; but I do not pretend to judge them, and I do not love 
 them, one and all, less in Jesus Christ, following what 
 Christian charity teaches. 
 
 I pray God to forgive me all my sins ; I have scrupidously 
 tried to know them, to detest them, and to humiliate my- 
 self in his presence. Not being able to have the ministry 
 of a Catholic priest, I pray God to receive the confession 
 which I have made to him, and, especially, the deep repen- 
 tance which I feel for having put my name (though against 
 my will) to acts which may have been contrary to the dis- 
 cipline and the belief of the Catholic Church, to which I 
 have always remained sincerely united in heart. I pray 
 God to receive the firm resolution in which I am to employ, 
 if he grants me life, as soon as I can, the ministry of a 
 Catholic priest to confess all my sins and to receive the 
 sacrament of repentance. 
 
 I beg all those whom I may have injured through inad- 
 
182 MADAME ]&LISABETH DE ERANCE, [chap. hi. 
 
 vertence (for I do not remember to have knowingly injured 
 any one), and those to whom I may have set a bad example 
 or caused offence, to forgive me the wrong they may think that 
 I have done them ; I beg all those who have charity to unite 
 their prayers to mine to obtain of God the pardon of my sins. 
 
 I pardon with all my heart those who have made them- 
 selves my enemies without my having given them any cause, 
 and I pray God to pardon them, as well as those who, from 
 false zeal or misdirected zeal, have done me much harm. 
 
 I commend to God my wife and my children, my sister, 
 my aunts, my brothers, and all those who are attached to 
 me by ties of blood, or by any other manner whatsoever. 
 I pray God especially to cast the eyes of his mercy on my 
 wife, my children, and my sister, who have suffered so long 
 with me ; to support them by his grace if they lose me, and 
 for as long as they remain in this perishable world. 
 
 I commend my children to my wife ; I have never doubted 
 her maternal tenderness for them ; I entreat her, above all, 
 to make good Christians and honest beings of them, to teach 
 them to regard the grandeurs of this world (if they are 
 condemned to experience them) as dangerous and perish- 
 able benefits, and to turn their eyes towards the only solid 
 and durable glory of eternity. I beg my sister to continue 
 her tenderness to my children, and to stand to them in place 
 of a mother should they have the misfortune to lose theirs. 
 
 I beg my wife to forgive me for all the ills she has 
 suffered for me, and the griefs I may have caused her in the 
 course of our union ; just as she may be sure that I keep 
 nothing against her should she think she has anything for 
 which to blame herself. 
 
 I request very earnestly of my children, after what they 
 owe to God who comes before all, to remain united with each 
 other, submissive and obedient to their mother and grateful 
 

1792] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 183 
 
 for all the care and trouble she gives herself for them, and 
 in memory of me. I beg them to regard my sister as a 
 second mother. 
 
 I beg my son, if he has the misfortune to become king, to 
 reflect that he owes himself wholly to the welfare of his co- 
 citizens ; that he ought to forget all hatred and all resent- 
 ment, especially that which relates to the misfortunes and 
 griefs that I have borne ; that he cannot make the happiness 
 of the people except by reigning according to the laws ; but, 
 at the same time, that a king cannot make the laws respected 
 and do the good which is in his heart to do unless he has 
 the necessary authority; otherwise, being fettered in his 
 operations and inspiring no respect, he is more harmful than 
 useful. 
 
 I commend to my son to take care of all the persons who 
 have been attached to me, so far as the circumstances in 
 which he may be placed will give him the ability ; to re- 
 member that this is a sacred debt contracted by me towards 
 the children and relatives of those who have perished for 
 me, and towards those who are unfortunate for my sake. 
 
 I know that there are several persons among those who 
 were attached to me who have not acted towards me as they 
 should have done, and have even shown me ingratitude ; but 
 I pardon them (often in moments of trouble and excitement 
 persons are not masters of themselves), and I beg my son, 
 should the occasion come to him, to remember only their 
 misfortunes. 
 
 I wish that I could manifest here my gratitude to those 
 who have shown me a veritable and disinterested attach- 
 ment ; if, on the one hand, I have keenly felt the ingratitude 
 and disloyalty of persons to whom I had never shown any- 
 thing but kindness (to them, or their relatives, or to the 
 friends of both), I have had the consolation of seeing the 
 
184 MADAME I:LISABETH DE FRANCE. [chap, hi, 
 
 gratuitous attaclimeiit and interest that many persons have 
 shown me ; I beg those persons to receive my thanks. In 
 the condition in which things now are, I should fear to com- 
 promise them if I spoke more explicitly, but I specially 
 request my son to seek occasions of being able to recognize 
 them. 
 
 Nevertheless, I think I should calumniate the sentiments 
 of the nation if I did not commend openly to my son 
 MM. de Chamilly and Hue, whose true attachment to me 
 led them to shut themselves up in this sad place, and who 
 came so near being also the unfortunate victims of it, I like- 
 wise recommend to him Cldry, whose care I have every reason 
 to praise since he has been with me ; as it is he who will re- 
 main with me to the end, I beg the gentlemen of the Commime 
 to give him my clothes, my books, my watch, my purse, and 
 whatever little property has been deposited with the coun- 
 cil of the Commune, 
 
 I pardon once more, very willingly, those who guard me 
 for the ill-treatment and the annoyances they have thought 
 it their duty to practice towards me. I have met with some 
 compassionate and feeling souls ; may they enjoy in their 
 hearts the tranquillity that their way of thinking will give 
 them. 
 
 I beg MM. de Malesherbes, Tronchet, and de Sfeze to 
 receive here my thanks and the expression of my feelings for 
 the cares and trouble they have taken for me. 
 
 I end by declaring before God, and about to appear before 
 him, that I do not reproach myself with any of the crimes 
 laid to my charge. 
 
 Done, in duplicate, at the Tower of the Temple, the 
 twenty-fifth day of December, one thousand, seven hundred 
 and ninety-two. 
 
 Louis. 
 
1793] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 185 
 
 On the 26th of December, the king was taken for the 
 second time before the bar of the Convention. I had warned 
 the queen, lest the noise of the drums and the movements of 
 the troops should frighten her. His Majesty started at ten 
 in the morning and returned at five in the afternoon. His 
 counsel came that evening just as the king was finishing 
 dinner ; he asked them to take some refreshment ; M, de Seze 
 was the only one who accepted the offer. The king thanked 
 him for the pains he had taken in making his speech. 
 
 The nest day His Majesty deigned to give me himself 
 his printed defence, after asking the commissioners if he 
 could do so without impropriety. Commissioner Vincent, a 
 contractor for buildings, who had done the royal family all 
 the services in his power, undertook to carry a copy secretly 
 to the queen. He took advantage of the moment when the 
 king thanked him for this little service to ask for the gift of 
 something that had belonged to him. His Majesty unfastened 
 his cravat and gave it to him. At another time he gave his 
 gloves to a municipal, who desired to have them from the 
 same motive. Even to the eyes of several of his guards, his 
 remains were already sacred. 
 
 On the 1st of January, 1793, 1 went to the bedside of the 
 king and asked him in a low voice to be allowed to offer my 
 earnest wishes for the end of his troubles, " I receive those 
 wishes," he said affectionately, holding out his hand , which 
 I kissed and wet with my tears. As soon as he rose, he 
 begged a municipal to go from him to inquire news of his 
 family and give them his wishes for the new year. The 
 municipals were much moved by the tone in which these 
 words, so heart-rending in view of the king's situation, were 
 said, " Why," said one of them to me after the king had 
 gone into his cabinet, " why does he not ask to see his 
 family ? Now that the examinations are over there would 
 
186 MADAME :fcLISABETH DE FRANCE. [chap. hi. 
 
 be no difficulty ; but it is to tbe Convention that be ought to 
 make the request." The municipal who had gone to see the 
 queen returned and announced to the king that bis family 
 thanked him for his good wishes and sent him their own. 
 " What a New-Year's day ! " exclaimed His Majesty. 
 
 That same evening I took the liberty of telling him I was 
 almost certain of the consent of the Convention if he asked 
 to be permitted to see his family. " In a few days," he 
 replied, " they will not refuse me that consolation ; I must 
 wait." 
 
 The nearer the day for tbe verdict approached, — if one 
 can use that term \_jugemenf\ for the proceedings the king 
 was made to undergo, — the more my fears and anguish in- 
 creased. I asked a hundred questions of the municipals, 
 and everything I heard added to my terror. My wife came 
 to see me every week, and gave me an exact account of what 
 was going on in Paris. Public opinion seemed to be still 
 favourable to the king ; it was shown in a startling way at 
 the Theatre Fran^ais and at the Vaudeville. At the first, 
 they were playing "L'Ami des Lois;" all the allusions to 
 the trial of the king were seized and applauded vehemently. 
 At the Vaudeville, one of the personages in "La Chaste 
 Suzanne" says to the two old men, "How can you be 
 accusers and judges both ? " The audience insisted on the 
 repetition of that speech many times. I gave the king a 
 copy of "L'Ami des Lois." I often told him, and I also 
 almost brought myself to believe it, that the members of the 
 Convention, being opposed to one another, could pronounce 
 only for the penalty of imprisonment or transportation. 
 " May they have that moderation for my family," said the 
 king ; " it is only for them that I fear." 
 
 Certain persons sent me word through my wife that a con- 
 siderable sum of money, deposited with M. Pariseau, editor 
 
1793] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 187 
 
 of the "Feuille du jour," was at the king's disposal; they 
 requested me to ask his orders and say that the money would 
 be paid to M. de Malesherbes if the king wished it. " Thank 
 those persons much, for me," he replied. " I cannot accept 
 their generous offer, it would be to expose them." I begged 
 him at least to mention the matter to M. de Malesherbes, 
 and he promised to do so. 
 
 The correspondence between Their Majesties continued. 
 The king, informed of Madame Eoyale's illness, was very 
 imeasy for some days. The queen, after much entreaty, 
 obtained permission for M. Brunier, her children's physician, 
 to come to the Temple ; this seemed to tranquillize him. 
 
 On the 16th of January, at six in the evening, four muni- 
 cipals entered the king's chamber and read to him a decree 
 of the Commune, the substance of which was " that he be 
 guarded night and day by four municipals; two of whom 
 were to pass the night beside his bed." The king asked if 
 his sentence had been pronounced. One of them (Du 
 Eoure) began by sitting down in the arm-chair of the king, 
 who was standing ; he answered that he did not trouble him- 
 self to know what went on in the Convention, but he had 
 heard some one say they were still calling the votes. 
 
 A few moments later M. de Malesherbes arrived and told 
 the king that the call of the votes \_rappel nominal] was 
 not yet ended. While he was there the chimney of a room 
 in the palace of the Temple took fire. A considerable crowd 
 of people entered the courtyard. A commissioner came in 
 alarm to tell M. de Malesherbes that he must go away im- 
 mediately. M. de Malesherbes withdrew, after promising the 
 king he would return to inform him of his sentence. " Why 
 are you so alarmed ? " I asked the commissioner. "They have 
 set fire to the Temple/' he said, " in order to rescue Capet in 
 the tumult ; but I have surrounded the walls with a strong 
 
188 MADAME lELISABETH DE FRANCE. [chap. hi. 
 
 guard." The fire was soon out, and it was shown to have 
 been a mere accident. 
 
 Thursday, January 17th, M. de Malesherbes came at nine 
 in the morning ; I went to meet him. " All is lost," he said ; 
 "the king is condemned to death." The king, who saw 
 him coming, rose to receive him. The miuister threw him- 
 self at his feet, his sobs choked him, and it was some time 
 before he could speak. The king raised him and pressed 
 him against his bosom with affection. M. de Malesherbes 
 told him of his condemnation to death ; the king made no 
 movement that showed either surprise or emotion ; he seemed 
 to be affected only by the grief of the old man, and tried to 
 comfort him. 
 
 M. de Malesherbes gave an account to the king of the 
 voting. Denouncers, relatives, personal enemies, laymen, 
 ecclesiastics, absent deputies, all had voted, and, in spite of 
 this violation of the forms, those who had voted for death — 
 some as a political measure, others on pretence that the king 
 was guilty — carried it by a majority of only five votes. Sev- 
 eral deputies voted for death with respite [sursis^. A second 
 vote was taken on this latter point, and it is to be presumed 
 that the votes of those who wished to retard the commission 
 of the regicide, joined to the votes of those who were against 
 the death penalty, would have formed a majority. But, at 
 the doors of the Convention, assassins devoted to the Due 
 d'Orl^ans and to the deputation of the Paris Commune, 
 terrified by their cries and threatened with their knives who- 
 ever refused to listen to them ; and whether it was stupor, 
 indifference, or fear, no one dared to undertake anything 
 further to save the king. 
 
 His Majesty obtained permission to see M. de Malesherbes 
 in private. He took him into his cabinet, shut the door, and 
 was alone with him for about an hour. His Majesty then 
 
1793] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 189 
 
 conducted him to the entrance door, and asked him to come 
 early that evening, and not to abandon him in his last mo- 
 ments. " The sorrow of that good old man has deeply af- 
 fected me," said the king, returning to the room where I 
 waited for him. 
 
 From the moment of M. de Malesherhes' entrance a great 
 trembling had seized me ; nevertheless I prepared what was 
 necessary for the king to shave himself. He himself put the 
 soap on his face, standing before me while I held the basin. 
 Forced to control my grief, I had not yet dared to raise my 
 eyes to my imfortunate master ; by chance I looked at him 
 and my tears flowed in spite of myself. I do not know if 
 the state in which I was reminded the king of his position, 
 but a sudden paleness overspread his face ; his nose and his 
 ears blanched suddenly. At that sight my knees gave way 
 under me ; the king, who noticed my fainting state, took me 
 by both hands, pressed them hard, and said in a low voice, 
 " Come, more courage." He was watched ; a mute reply 
 showed him my affection ; he seemed to feel it ; his face 
 recovered its tone, he went on shaving tranquilly, and then 
 I dressed him. 
 
 His Majesty remained in his chamber till dinner-time 
 reading or walking up and down. In the evening I saw him 
 go towards his cabinet, and I followed him, under pretext 
 that he might need my services. " Have you read the report 
 of my sentence ? " asked the king. " Ah, Sire ! " I said, " let 
 us hope for a respite. M. de Malesherhes thinks it cannot 
 be refused." " I seek for no hope," replied the king ; " but I 
 am much grieved that M. d'Orl^ans, my relative, should have 
 voted for my death. Eead that list." He gave me the list 
 of the call of the House [apjpel nominal'] which he held in 
 his hand. " The public are murmuring loudly," I said to 
 him. " Dumouriez is in Paris ; they say he is the bearer of 
 
190 MADAME Elisabeth de France. [chap. m. 
 
 a request from his army against the trial that has just taken 
 place. The people revolt against the infamous conduct of 
 the Due d'Orl^ans. There is a rumour that the ambassadors 
 of the foreign Powers are to assemble and go before the Con- 
 vention. They say that the members are in fear of a popular 
 uprising." " I should be very sorry if it took place," said 
 the king; "there would be more victims, I do not fear 
 death," he added, " but I cannot contemplate without a shud- 
 der the cruel fate that I leave behind me for my family, for 
 the queen, for my unfortunate children ! — and those faithful 
 servants who never abandoned me, those old men who have 
 no other means of subsistence than the modest pensions that 
 I gave them, who will help them ? I see the people given 
 over to anarchy, becoming the victim of all the factions, 
 crimes succeeding one another, perpetual dissensions rending 
 France ! " Then after a short silence : " my God ! is that 
 the price I must receive for all my sacrifices ? Did I not do 
 all to procure the happiness of Frenchmen ? " As he said 
 those words he clasped my hand. Filled with a sacred re- 
 spect I watered his with my tears. I was obliged to leave 
 him in that state. 
 
 The king waited vainly all that evening for M. de Males- 
 herbes. At night he asked me if he had come. I had 
 asked the same question of the commissioners, and they 
 answered no. 
 
 Wednesday, 18th, the king, hearing nothing of M. de 
 Malesherbes, became very uneasy. An old "Mercure de 
 France " falling into his hands, he there read a riddle which 
 he gave me to guess. I tried in vain to make it out. " What ! 
 you cannot find it out ? " he said ; " yet it is very applicable 
 to me at this moment. The word is Sacrifice." He ordered 
 me to look in the library for the volume of the History of 
 England that contained an account of the death of Charles I. 
 
1793] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 191 
 
 On this occasion, I discovered that the king had read two 
 hundred and fifty volumes since his imprisonment in the 
 Temple. That evening I took the liberty of saying to him 
 that he could not be deprived of his counsel, except by a 
 decree of the Convention, and that he ought to ask for their 
 admission to the Tower. "I will wait till to-morrow," 
 replied the king. 
 
 Saturday, 19th, at nine in the morning, a municipal named 
 Gobeau entered, a paper in his hand. He was accompanied 
 by the porter of the Tower, named Mathey, who carried an 
 inkstand. The municipal told the king he had orders to 
 make an inventory of all his property and effects. His 
 Majesty left me with him and retired into the tourelle. 
 Then, under pretence of the inventory, the municipal began 
 to rummage with the most minute care, to be certain, he 
 said, that no weapon or dangerous instrument had been 
 hidden in the king's room. Presently nothing was left to 
 search but a little bureau in which were papers. The king 
 was obliged to come and open all the drawers, to unfold 
 and show every paper one after the other. There were 
 three rolls of coin at the back of one drawer ; they wished 
 to examine them. " That money," said the king, " is not 
 miae ; it belongs to M. de Malesherbes." I had prepared it 
 to return to him. The three rolls contained three thousand 
 francs in gold; on the paper that wrapped each roll the 
 king had written with his own hand, " Belonging to M. de 
 Malesherbes." 
 
 While the same search was made in the tourelle the king 
 returned to his chamber and wanted to warm himself. The 
 porter, Mathey, was at that moment before the fire, holding 
 his coat-tails up with his back to the fire. The king could 
 not warm himself on either side of the man, and the in- 
 solent porter not moving, the king told him with some 
 
192 MADAME Elisabeth de trance. [chap. m. 
 
 asperity to stand a little aside. Mathey withdrew, and the 
 municipals went out soon after, having failed in their 
 search. 
 
 That evening the king told the commissioners to ask the 
 Commune the reason why his counsel were denied admission 
 to the Tower, saying that he desired at least to consult 
 with M. de Malesherbes. They promised to speak of it, 
 but one of them said they were forbidden to take any com- 
 munication from the king to the councO. of the Commune 
 unless it were written and signed by his own hand. " Then 
 why," replied the king, " have I been left for two days in 
 ignorance of that change ? " He wrote the request and 
 gave it to the municipals ; but they did not take it to the 
 Commune until the next day. The kiug asked to see his 
 counsel freely, and complained of the decree which ordered 
 the municipals to keep him in sight day and night. " They 
 ought to feel," he wrote to the Commune, " that in the posi- 
 tion I am in it is very painful not to have the tranquillity 
 necessary to enable me to collect myself." 
 
 Sunday, January 20, the king, as soon as he rose, in- 
 quired of the municipals if they had taken his request to 
 the Commune. They assured him that they had taken it 
 immediately. Towards ten o'clock I entered the king's 
 room; he said to me: "M. de Malesherbes has not yet 
 come." " Sire," I replied, " I have just learned that he has 
 been here several times, but his entrance to the Tower is 
 always refused." " I shall know the reason of that refusal," 
 replied the king, " when the Commune decides upon my 
 letter." He walked about his room and read and wrote, 
 occupying himself thus the whole morning. 
 
 Two o'clock had just struck when the door was suddenly 
 opened to admit the Executive council. Twelve or fifteen 
 persons came in at once : Garat, minister of justice ; Lebrun, 
 
1793] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 193 
 
 minister of foreign affairs ; Grouville, secretary of the coun- 
 cil ; the president and the prosecuting-syndic of the depart- 
 ment ; the mayor and public prosecutor of the Commune ; the 
 president and prosecuting attorney of the criminal tribunal. 
 
 Santerre, who advanced before the others, said to me: 
 " Announce the Executive council." The king, who heard 
 the noise of the arrival, had risen and made a few steps 
 forward; but, on seeing this procession, he stopped in the 
 doorway between his room and the antechamber, in a most 
 noble and imposing attitude. I was beside him. Garat, his 
 hat on his head, spoke and said : " Louis, the National Con- 
 vention has ordered the Provisional Executive council to 
 make known to you its decree of the 15th, 16th, 17th, 19th 
 and 20th of January, 1793 ; the secretary of the council will 
 now read it to you." Then Grouville, the secretary, unfolded 
 the decree and read it in a weak and trembling voice : — 
 
 Decree of the National Convention of the 15th to the 20th 
 of January. 
 
 Article I. The National Convention declares Louis Capet 
 last King of the French, guilty of conspiracy against the 
 liberty of the Nation, and of criminal attempts against the 
 general safety of the State. 
 
 Article XL The National Convention declares that Louis 
 Capet shall suffer the penalty of death. 
 
 Article III. The National Convention declares null the 
 act of Louis Capet brought to the bar of the Convention by 
 his counsel, called an appeal to the nation from the judg- 
 ment rendered against him by the Convention ; it forbids all 
 persons from taking it up, under pain of being tried and 
 punished as guilty of criminal attempts against the safety 
 of the Eepublic. 
 
 13 
 
194 MADAME I:LISABETH DE FRANCE. [chap. hi. 
 
 Aeticle IV. The Provisional Executive council will notify 
 the present decree in the course of this day to Louis Capet, 
 and take the necessary police and safety measures to carry 
 out the execution within twenty-four hours from the time 
 of its notification ; rendering an account of all to the 
 National Convention immediately after the execution. 
 
 During the reading of the decree not the slightest change 
 appeared on the face of the king. I noticed only that in 
 the first Article, when the word " conspiracy " was uttered, 
 a smile of indignation came upon his lips ; but at the words 
 " suffer the penalty of death," a heavenly look which he cast 
 on all those who surroimded him told them that death was 
 without terrors for innocence. 
 
 The king made a step towards Grouville, the secretary, 
 took the decree from his hand, folded it, drew his portfolio 
 from his pocket, and put the paper into it. Then, taking 
 another paper from the same portfolio, he said to Garat: 
 " Monsieur the minister of justice, I beg you to send this 
 letter at once to the National Convention." The minister 
 seeming to hesitate, the king added, " I will read it to you," 
 and without any change of tone he read what follows : — 
 
 " I ask for a delay of three days that I may prepare my- 
 self to appear before God. I demand for the same purpose 
 to be able to see freely the person I shall name to the com- 
 missioners of the Commune, and that the said person shall 
 be protected from all anxiety about the act of charity which 
 he will do for me. 
 
 " I ask to be delivered from the incessant watching which 
 the council of the Commune established recently. 
 
 " I ask to be able, during that interval, to see my family 
 when I ask it, and without witnesses. 
 
 "I much desire that the National Convention shall at 
 once concern itself with the fate of my family, and that it 
 
1793] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 195 
 
 will permit them to retire freely wherever they may wish 
 to go. 
 
 " I commend to the beneficence of the Nation all the per- 
 sons who have been attached to me. Many have put their 
 whole fortunes into their offices, and now, receiving no sal- 
 aries, they must be in need ; the same must also be the case 
 with those who had only their salaries to support them ; and 
 among the pensionaries, there are many old men, women, and 
 children who have nothing but their pensions to live upon. 
 
 "Done in the Tower of the Temple, January 20, one 
 thousand seven hundred and ninety-three. Louis." 
 
 Garat took the king's letter and assured him that he 
 would take it to the Convention. As he was leaving, the 
 king drew another paper from his pocket and said : " Mon- 
 sieur, if the Convention grants my request for the person I 
 desire, here is his address." That address, in another 
 handwriting than that of the king^ was as follows: " Mon- 
 sieur Edgeworth de Firmont, No. 483 rue du Bac." The 
 king then walked a few steps back ; the minister and those 
 who accompanied him went away. 
 
 His Majesty paced for a moment up and down his room ; 
 I stood leaning against the door as if deprived of all feeling. 
 The king came to me and said, " Cldry, ask for my dinner." 
 A few moments later, two municipals entered the dining- 
 room ; they read me an order which was as follows : " Louis 
 is not to have knife or fork at his meals ; a knife is to be 
 given to his valet de chamhre to cut his bread and meat in 
 presence of two commissioners, and the knife will then be 
 removed." The two municipals told me to inform the king. 
 I refused. 
 
 On entering the dining-room the king saw the basket in 
 
 1 Doubtless that of Madame l^lisabeth. — Tb. 
 
196 MADAME ]&LISABETH DE FKANCE. [chap. hi. 
 
 which was the queen's dinner. He asked why they had 
 made his family wait an hour ; adding that the delay might 
 have made them anxious. He sat down to table. " I have 
 no knife," he said. The municipal Minier informed His 
 Majesty of the order of the Commune. " Do they think me 
 so cowardly as to take my own life ? " said the king. " They 
 impute to me crimes, but I am innocent and I can die with- 
 out fear ; I would that my death might make the welfare of 
 Frenchmen and avert from them the evils I foresee." A 
 great silence fell. The king cut his beef with a spoon, and 
 broke his bread; he ate little, and his dinner lasted only a 
 few minutes. 
 
 I was in my room, given over to frightful grief, when, 
 about six in the evening, Garat returned to the Tower. I 
 went to announce to the king the arrival of the minister of 
 justice. Santerre, who preceded him, approached His Ma- 
 jesty and said in a low voice, with a smiling air, " Here is 
 the Executive council." The minister, advancing, told the 
 king that he had taken his letter to the Convention, which 
 charged him to deliver the following answer : " Louis is at 
 liberty to call for any minister of worship that he thinks 
 proper ; and to see his family freely and without witnesses ; 
 the nation, always grand and always just, will concern itself 
 with the fate of his family ; the creditors of his house will 
 be granted just indemnities ; as to the three days' respite, the 
 National Convention passes to the order of the day." 
 
 The king listened to the reading of this reply without 
 making any observation ; he returned to his room, and said 
 to me : " I thought, from Santerre's air, that the delay was 
 granted." A young municipal, named Boston, seeing the 
 king speak to me, came nearer. " You seem to feel what 
 has happened to me," the king said to him ; " receive my 
 thanks." The man, surprised, did not know what to answer, 
 
1793] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 197 
 
 and I was myself amazed at the expressions of His Majesty, 
 for this municipal, not twenty-two years of age, with a sweet 
 and interesting face, had said a few moments earlier : " I 
 asked to come to the Temple that I might see the grimaces 
 he will make to-morrow " (meaning the king). " And I, too," 
 said Merceraut, the stone-cutter of whom I have already 
 spoken. " Everybody refused to come ; but I would not give 
 up this day for a great deal of money." Such were the vile 
 and ferocious men whom the Commune of Paris appointed 
 to guard the king in his last moments. 
 
 For four days the king had not seen his counsel ; those of 
 the commissioners who had showed some feeling for his mis- 
 fortunes, avoided coming near him ; of all the subjects 
 whose father he had been, of all the Frenchmen whom he 
 had loaded with benefits, one single servant alone remained 
 to him as confidant of his sorrows. 
 
 After the reading of the answer of the Convention, the 
 commissioners addressed the minister of .justice and asked 
 him how the king was to see his family. " In private," re- 
 plied Garat ; " that is the intention of the Convention." The 
 municipals then told him of the decree of the Commune 
 ordering them not to lose sight of the kiag " day or night." 
 It was agreed between the Commissioners and the minister 
 that in order to combiue these two opposing decrees, the king 
 should receive his family in the dining-room where he could 
 be seen through the glass partition, but that the door should 
 be shut so that he could not be heard. 
 
 The king here recalled the minister of justice to ask if he 
 had notified M. de Firmont. Garat replied that he had 
 brought him in his carriage, that he was then in the council- 
 room, and would come up immediately. His Majesty now, 
 in the presence of Garat, gave to a municipal, named Beau- 
 drais, who was talking with the minister, the sum of 3000 
 
198 MADAME I:LISABETH DE FEANCE. [chap. hi. 
 
 francs in gold, requesting him to return it to M. de Males- 
 herbes to whom it belonged. The municipal promised to do 
 so ; but he took the money to the council-room, and it was 
 never returned to M. de Malesherbes. M. de Firmont ap- 
 peared ; the king took him into the tourelle and closed the 
 door. Garat having gone, no one remained in his Majesty's 
 apartment but the four municipals. At eight o'clock the 
 king came out of his cabinet and told the commissioners to 
 take him to his family. They replied that that could not be 
 done, but they would bring his family to him if he desired 
 it. " Very well," said the king, " but I can, at least, see them 
 alone in my room." " No," replied one of them, " we have 
 arranged with the minister of justice that you shall see them 
 in the dining-room." " You have heard the decree of the 
 Convention," said His Majesty, " which permits me to see 
 them without witnesses." " That is true," said the municipal, 
 " you will be in private, the door will be shut, but we shall 
 have our eyes upon you through the glass partition." " Bring 
 down my family," said the king. 
 
 During this interval, His Majesty went to the dining- 
 room; I followed him. I drew the table to one side and 
 placed the chairs at the farther end of the room to give more 
 space. "Bring some water and a glass," said the king. 
 There was then on the table a bottle of iced water ; I brought 
 only a glass and placed it beside the water-bottle. " Bring 
 water that is not iced," said the king. " If the queen drank 
 the other it might make her ill. Tell M. de Firmont," added 
 His Majesty, " not to leave my cabinet ; I fear the sight of 
 him would make my family too unhappy." 
 
 The commissioner who was sent to fetch the royal family 
 was absent a quarter of an hour ; during that time the king 
 went back to his cabinet, returning several times to the en- 
 trance-door, with signs of the deepest emotion. 
 
1793] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 199 
 
 At half-past eight the door opened ; the queen appeared 
 first, holding her son by the hand ; then Madame Eoyale and 
 Madame Elisabeth ; they ran to the arms of the king. A 
 gloomy silence reigned for several minutes, interrupted only 
 by sobs. The queen made a movement to draw the king 
 into his room. " No," he said, " let us go into the dining- 
 room, I can see you only there." They went there, and I 
 closed the door, which was of glass, behind them. The king 
 sat down, the queen on his left, Madame Elisabeth on his 
 right, Madame Eoyale nearly opposite to him, and the little 
 prince between his knees. All were bending towards him 
 and held him half embraced. This scene of sorrow lasted 
 seven quarters of an hour, during which it was impossible to 
 hear anything ; we could see only that after each sentence of 
 the king the sobs of the princesses redoubled, lasting some 
 minutes ; then the king would resume what he was saying. 
 It was easy to judge from their motions that the king him- 
 self was the first to tell them of his condemnation. 
 
 At a quarter past ten the king rose first ; they all followed 
 him ; I opened the door ; the queen held the king by the 
 right arm ; Their Majesties each gave a hand to the dauphin ; 
 Madame Eoyale on the left clasped the king's body; Ma- 
 dame Elisabeth, on the same side but a little behind the rest, 
 had caught the left arm of her brother. They made a few 
 steps towards the entrance, uttering the most sorrowful 
 moans. " I assure yOu," said the king, " that I will see you 
 to-morrow at eight o'clock." " You promise us ? " they all 
 cried. " Yes, I promise it." " Why not at seven o'clock ? " 
 said the queen. " Well, then, yes, at seven o'clock," replied 
 the king. "Adieu — " He uttered that " adieu " in so ex- 
 pressive a manner that the sobs redoubled. Madame Eoyale 
 fell fainting at the king's feet, which she clasped ; I raised 
 her and helped Madame Elisabeth to hold her. The king, 
 
200 MADAME ]fcLISABETH DE FRANCE. [chap. hi. 
 
 wishing to put an end to this heart-rendiag scene, gave them 
 all a most tender embrace, and then had the strength to tear 
 himself from their arms. "Adieu — adieu," he said, and 
 re-entered his chamber. 
 
 The princesses went up to theirs. I wished to go too to 
 support Madame Eoyale ; the municipals stopped me on the 
 second stair and forced me to go back. Though the two 
 doors were shut, we continued to hear the sobs and moans of 
 the princesses on the staircase. The king rejoined his con- 
 fessor in the tourelle. 
 
 Half an hour later he came out and I served the supper. 
 The king ate little, but with appetite. 
 
 After supper, His Majesty having returned to his cabinet 
 in the tourelle, his confessor came out an instant later and 
 asked the commissioners to take him to the council-room. 
 This was for the purpose of obtaining the sacerdotal robes, 
 and other things necessary to say mass on the following 
 morning. M. de Eirmont obtained with difficulty the grant- 
 ing of this request. It was to the church of the Capuchins 
 in the Marais, near the h5tel de Soubise, which had lately 
 been made a parish church, that they sent for the articles 
 required for divine service. 
 
 Eeturning from the council-room, M. de Firmont went 
 back to the king. They both re-entered the tourelle, where 
 they remained until half an hour after midnight. Then I 
 undressed the king, and as I was about to roll his hair, he 
 said to me, " It is not worth while." When I closed the 
 curtains after he was in bed, he said, " Cldry, wake me at five 
 o'clock," 
 
 He was hardly in bed before a deep sleep took possession 
 of his senses; he slept until five o'clock without waking. 
 M. de Firmont, whom His Majesty had urged to take a little 
 rest, threw himself on my bed, and I passed the night on a 
 
1793] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 201 
 
 chair in the king's room, praying God to preserve both his 
 strength and his courage. 
 
 I heard five o'clock strike on the city clocks and I lit the 
 fire. At the noise I made, the king awoke and said, opening 
 his curtain," Is it five o'clock ? " " Sire, it has struck five 
 on several of the city clocks, but not here." The fire being 
 lighted I went to his bedside. " I have slept well," he said ; 
 " I needed it, for yesterday tired me very much. Where is 
 M. de Firmont ? " " On my bed." " And you, where did you 
 sleep ? " " In this chair." " I am sorry," said the king. 
 " Ah Sire ! I exclaimed, " how can I think of myself at such 
 a moment ? " He held out his hand to me and pressed mine 
 with affection. 
 
 I dressed the king and did his hair; while dressing, he 
 took from his watch a seal, put it in the pocket of his waist- 
 coat, and laid the watch upon the chimney-piece ; then, tak- 
 ing from his finger a ring, which he looked at many times, 
 he put it in the same pocket where the seal was. He 
 changed his shirt, put on a white waistcoat which he had 
 worn the night before, and I helped him on with his coat. 
 He took from his pockets his portfolio, his eye-glass, his 
 snuff-box, and some other articles ; he laid them with his 
 purse on the chimney-piece ; all this in silence and before 
 the municipals. His toilet completed, the king told me to 
 inform M. de Firmont. I went to call him ; he was already 
 up, and he followed His Majesty into the tourelle. 
 
 I then placed a bureau in the middle of the room and pre- 
 pared it, like an altar, for the mass. At two o'clock in the 
 morning all the necessary articles had been brought. I took 
 into my own room the priest's robe, and then, when every- 
 thing was ready, I went to inform the king. He asked me 
 if I could serve the mass. I answered yes, but that I did 
 not know all the responses by heart. He had a book in his 
 
202 MADAME :fcLISABETH DE FRANCE. [chap. hi. 
 
 hand whicli he opened, found the place of the mass, and gave 
 it to me, taking another book for himself. 
 
 During this time the priest robed himself. I had placed 
 an arm-chair before the altar and a large cushion on the floor 
 for His Majesty. The king made me take away the cushion, 
 and went himself into his cabinet to fetch another, smaller 
 and covered with horsehair, which he used daily to say his 
 prayers. As soon as the priest entered, the municipals re- 
 tired into the antechamber, and I closed one half of the 
 door. 
 
 Mass began at six o'clock. During that august ceremony 
 a great silence reigned. The king, always on his knees, 
 listened to the mass with deep absorption, in a most noble 
 attitude. His Majesty took the communion. After mass, 
 he went into his cabiuet, and the priest into my room to 
 remove his sacerdotal garments. 
 
 I seized that moment to enter the king's cabinet. He took 
 me by both hands and said in a touching voice : " Cl^ry, I 
 am satisfied with your services." "Ah, Sire ! " I cried, throw- 
 ing myself at his feet. " Why can I not die to satisfy your 
 murderers and save a life so precious to good Frenchmen ! 
 Hope, Sire, — they dare not strike you." " Death does not 
 alarm me," he replied. " I am quite prepared ; but you," he 
 continued, " do not expose yourself ; I shall ask that you be 
 kept near my son ; give him all your care in this dreadful 
 place; remind him, tell him often, how I have grieved for 
 the misfortunes he must bear : some day he may be able to 
 reward your zeal." " Ah ! my master, my king, if the most 
 absolute devotion, if my zeal and my care have been agree- 
 able to you, the only reward I ask is to receive your bless- 
 ing — do not refuse it to the last Frenchman who remains 
 beside you." 
 
 I was already at his feet, holding one of his hands ; in 
 
1793] 
 
 THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 203 
 
 that position he granted my prayer and gave me his bless- 
 ing ; then he raised me, and pressing me to his bosom said : 
 " Give it also to all who are attached to me ; tell Turgy I 
 am content with him. Now, go back," he added ; " give no 
 cause for complaint against you." Then, calling me back and 
 taking a paper from the table, he said, " See, here is a letter 
 Potion wrote me at the time of your entrance to the Temple. 
 It may be useful to you for remaining here." I caught his 
 hand again and kissed it, and went out. " Adieu," he said to 
 me again, " Adieu." 
 
 I returned to my chamber, where I found M. de Firmont 
 praying on his knees beside my bed. " What a prince ! " he 
 said to me as he rose ; " with what resignation, with what 
 courage he looks at death ! he was as tranquil as if he were 
 hearing mass in his palace in the midst of his Court." " I 
 have just received the most affecting farewell," I said to 
 him. " He has deigned to promise me that he will ask to 
 have me remain in the Tower to wait on his son. Monsieur, 
 I beg of you to remind him, for I shall not have the happi- 
 ness to speak to him in private again." " Be at ease about 
 that," replied M. de Firmont as he turned to rejoin His 
 Majesty. 
 
 At seven o'clock the king came out of his cabinet and 
 called me ; he took me into the embrasure of the window and 
 said : "You will give this seal to my son — and this ring to 
 the queen ; tell her that I part from it with pain and only 
 at the last moment. This little packet incloses the hair of 
 all my family; you will give her that also. Say to the 
 queen, to my dear children, to my sister, that although I 
 promised to see them this morning, I wish to spare them the 
 pain of so cruel a separation. — How much it costs me to go 
 without receiving their last embraces!" He wiped away 
 a few tears ; then he added, with a most sorrowful accent, 
 
204 MADAME ifcLISABETH DE FRANCE. [chap. hi. 
 
 " I charge you to take them my farewell." He immediately 
 re-entered his cabinet. 
 
 The municipals who were close at hand had heard His 
 Majesty, and had seen him give me the different articles 
 which I still held in my hands. They told me to give them 
 up to them ; but one of their number proposed to leave them 
 in my hands for a decision of the council about them, and 
 this advice prevailed.^ 
 
 A quarter of an hour later the king came out of his 
 cabinet. " Ask," he said to me, " if I can have scissors ; " and 
 he went in again. I made the request of the commis- 
 sioners. " Do you know what he wants to do with them ? " 
 I said I did not. "You must let us know." I knocked at the 
 door of the cabinet. The king came out. A municipal who 
 followed me said to him: "You have asked for scissors, but 
 before we take your request to the council we must know 
 what you wish to do with them." His Majesty replied, " I 
 wish Cldry to cut my hair." The municipals retired ; one of 
 them went down to the council-chamber, where, after half 
 an hour's deliberation, they refused the scissors. The muni- 
 cipals returned and announced that decision to the king. " I 
 should not have touched the scissors," said His Majesty ; " I 
 should have requested Cl^ry to cut my hair in your presence ; 
 inquire again, monsieur; I beg you to take charge of my 
 request." The municipal returned to the council, which 
 persisted in its refusal. 
 
 It was then that I was told to be ready to accompany the 
 king and undress him on the scaffold. At this announce- 
 ment I was seized with terror ; but collecting all my strength 
 I was preparing to render this last duty to my master, to whom 
 this service done by the executioner would be repugnant, 
 when another municipal came to tell me that I was 
 
 1 See Appendix V. 
 
1793] THE CAPTIVITY OF LOUIS XVI. 205 
 
 not to go; adding, "The executioner is good enough for 
 him." 
 
 Paris was under arms from five o'clock in the morning ; 
 nothing was heard outside but the beating of the generale, 
 the rattle of arms, the tramp of horses, the movement of 
 cannon, which they placed and displaced incessantly. All 
 this echoed through the Tower. 
 
 . At nine o'clock the noise increased, the gates opened with 
 a crash ; Santerre, accompanied by seven or eight municipals, 
 entered at the head of ten gendarmes, whom he ranged in 
 two lines. At this disturbance the king came out of his 
 cabinet. " Have you come to fetch me ? " he said to Santerre 
 " Yes." " I ask you for one minute." The king entered his 
 cabinet and came out again immediately, his confessor with 
 him. He held his will in his hand, and, addressing a mu- 
 nicipal, Jacques Eoux by name, a priest who had taken the 
 oath, who was the man nearest to him, he said : " I beg you 
 to give this paper to the queen, to my wife." " It is not my 
 business," replied the priest, refusing to take the document. 
 " I am here to conduct you to the scaffold." His Majesty 
 then addressed Gobau, another municipal. " Give this paper, 
 I beg you, to my wife. You can read it ; it contains dispo- 
 sitions which I desire that the Commune should know." 
 Gobau took the document. 
 
 I was behind the king, near the chimney ; he turned to 
 me and I offered him his overcoat. " I have no need of it," 
 he said, " give me only my hat." I gave it to him. His 
 hand touched mine, which he pressed for the last time. 
 " Messieurs," he said, addressing the municipals, " I desire 
 that Cl^ry should remain near my son, who is accustomed to 
 his care ; I hope that the Commune will accede to my re- 
 quest." Then, looking at Santerre, he said, " Let us go." 
 
 Those were the last words that he said in his apartment. 
 
206 MADAME :fcLISABETH DE FKANCE. [chap. hi. 
 
 At the top of the staircase he met Mathey, porter of the 
 Tower, and said to him : " I was a little hasty to you day 
 before yesterday; do not bear me ill-will." Mathey made 
 no answer ; he even affected to turn away when the king 
 spoke to him. 
 
 I remained alone in the room, my heart wrung with sorrow, 
 and almost without sensation. The drums and the trumpets 
 announced that His Majesty had left the Tower. An hour 
 later salvos of artillery and cries of Vive la nation ! Vive la 
 repicUique I were heard. The best of kings was no more ! 
 
NARRATIVE 
 OF MAEIE-THlEEESE DE FEANCE, 
 
 DUCHESSE d'aNGOULEME. 
 
NARRATIVE 
 
 Of Madame Th^rese de France. 
 
 Relating : I. Events from October 5, 1789, to August 10, 1792. II. Events 
 taking place in the Tower of the Temple from August, 1792, to the 
 Death of the Dauphin, June 9, 1795. 
 
 [The latter part of this Narrative^ was the part first 
 written by Marie-Thdrfese, Madame Eoyale de France, only 
 surviving child of Louis XVI. and Marie-Antoinette. She 
 wrote it in the Temple after the death of her brother in 
 1795, when her own captivity became less rigorous, and 
 she was allowed the use of pencil and paper. 
 
 The first part of the Narrative, that which relates the 
 various events taking place from October 5, 1789, to August 
 10, 1792, was written by her in 1799, during her exile and 
 soon after her marriage to her cousin, the Due dAngou- 
 Igme, son of the Comte d'Artois, subsequently Charles X. 
 This manuscript was corrected and copied, in his own 
 handwriting, by her uncle. Monsieur, Comte de Provence, 
 subsequently Louis XVIIL, with whom she lived during 
 his two exiles and his two Eestorations till his death. This 
 copy, now in possession of the family of Francois Hue, a 
 devoted attendant of the royal family of France, to whom 
 the Duchesse d'Angoulgme gave it, was first published by 
 M. de Saint-Amand (Firmin Didot, Paris, no date). From 
 that edition this translation is made. The additions by 
 Louis XVIIL are placed in the text between brackets ; his 
 omissions, which are chiefly of words and brief sentences, 
 
 1 Beginning on page 243. — Te. 
 14 
 
210 MADAME ELISABETH DE FKANCE. [1789 
 
 made to correct his niece's French style, are, necessarily, 
 not shown in the translation.] 
 
 First Uprising of the Populace on the bth and 6th of October 
 1789. Eemoval of my Family to the Capital. 
 
 It was on the 5th of October, 1789, of a Monday, that the 
 first disturbances which, in the end, convulsed all France, 
 broke forth. In the morning of that too memorable day 
 every one was still tranquil at Versailles. My father had 
 gone to hunt at Meudon, a royal ch§,teau midway to Paris ; 
 my mother had gone alone to her garden at Trianon ; my 
 uncle Monsieur, with Madame, remained at Versailles ; my 
 Aunt Elisabeth had ridden out on horseback to dine at 
 her garden on the road to Paris; my brother and I had 
 also gone out in the morning and returned towards half- 
 past one to dine with my mother. Hardly had my Aunt 
 Elisabeth reached Montreuil and begun her dinner when 
 they came to tell her that all the women and all the 
 rabble of Paris were coming, armed, to Versailles. A 
 few moments later the news was confirmed; they were 
 already very near Versailles, where my father had not yet 
 returned. My aunt went back at once to Versailles accom- 
 panied by her two ladies-in-waiting. Going to my uncle's 
 apartment, she asked if he knew what was happening; he 
 said he had heard talk of all Paris coming out to Versailles 
 armed, but he did not believe it; my aunt assured him 
 that the thing was true, and together they went to my 
 mother. 
 
 We had just finished dinner when it was announced 
 that Monsieur and Mme. Elisabeth were there and wished 
 to speak to the queen. My mother was surprised, because 
 
1789] NARRATIVE OF MADAME ROYALE. 211 
 
 it was not her usual hour for seeing them. She passed iato 
 another room [to speak with them], and returned almost 
 immediately, much agitated by what she had heard and 
 still more uneasy about my father; she was not aware 
 that the moment the news of the insurrection reached 
 Versailles two gentlemen, named Puymontbrun and La 
 Devfeze, had hastened on liorseback to warn my father. 
 He returned at five o'clock, and by six the whole troop of 
 rioters were in Versailles; the iron gates of the chateau 
 were closed and defended by the Gardes du Corps. 
 
 M. de la Fayette was at the head of this Parisian army, 
 [None but the rabble came first; M. de la Fayette did 
 not come, with troops little disciplined, imtil eleven at 
 night.] They entered the hall of the Assembly, where 
 they declaimed much against the king and the govern- 
 ment. The president of the Assembly, M. Mounier, came 
 several times to the chateau to speak to my father. The 
 Due d'Orldans was with la Fayette [they were not to- 
 gether], and it was said they intended to make him king. 
 However that may be, the object of these rioters was not 
 well known to themselves; none but the leaders were ra- 
 formed of their true purpose. Their [principal] purpose 
 was to murder my mother, on whom the Due d'OrMans 
 wished to avenge himself for affronts he said she had put 
 upon him ; also to massacre the Gardes du Corps, the only 
 ones who remained faithful to their king [they were then 
 commanded by the Due de Guiche]. 
 
 Towards midnight the crowd retired, seeming to want 
 rest ; many of the women lay down on the benches of the 
 National Assembly. M. de la Fayette himself went to bed, 
 saying that everything was tranquil for the night ; so that 
 my father and mother, seeing that all was really quiet, re- 
 tired to their rooms, and so did the rest of the family. 
 
212 MADAME [ELISABETH DE FEANCE. [1789 
 
 My mother knew that their chief object was to kill her ; 
 nevertheless, in spite of that, she made no sign, but retired 
 to her room with all possible coolness and courage [after 
 ordering all who had gathered there to retire also]. She 
 went to bed, directing Mme. de Tourzel to take her son 
 instantly to the king if she heard any noise during the 
 night; she ordered all her servants to go to bed. 
 
 The rest of the night was quiet till five in the morning ; 
 but then the iron gates of the chateau were forced and the 
 vagabonds, led, it was said, by the Due d'Orl^ans himself, 
 rushed straight to my mother's apartment. The Swiss Guard 
 stationed at the foot of the staircase, which could have dis- 
 puted their passage, gave way, so that the villains, without 
 any hindrance, entered the hall of the Gardes du Corps 
 wounding and killing those who tried to oppose their pas- 
 sage. Two of these guards, named Miomandre de Sainte- 
 Marie and Durepaire, though grievously wounded, dragged 
 themselves to my mother's door, crying out to her to fly and 
 bolt the doors behind her. Their zeal was cruelly rewarded ; 
 the wretches flung themselves upon them and left them 
 bathed in their blood, for dead. Meantime, my mother's 
 women, wakened by the shouts of the insurgents and the 
 Gardes du Corps, rushed to the door and bolted it. My 
 mother sprang from her bed and, half-dressed, ran to my 
 father's apartment ; but the door of it was locked within, and 
 those who were there, hearing the noise, would not open it, 
 thinking it was the rioters trying to enter. Fortunately, 
 a man on duty named Turgy (the same who afterwards 
 served us ui the Temple as waiter), having recognized my 
 mother's voice, opened the door to her immediately. 
 
 At the same moment the wretches forced the door of my 
 mother's room ; so that one instant later she would have 
 been taken without means of escape. As soon as she 
 
1789] NARRATIVE OF MADAME ROY ALE. 213 
 
 entered my father's rooms she looked for him, but could not 
 find him ; having heard she was in danger he had rushed 
 to her apartment, but by another way. Fortunately, he met 
 my brother, brought to him by Mme. de Tourzel, who urged 
 him to return to his own rooms, where he found my mother 
 awaiting him in mortal anxiety. Eeassured about my father 
 and brother, the queen came in search of me ; I was already 
 awakened by the noise in her rooms and in the garden 
 imder my windows ; my mother told me to rise, and then 
 took me with her to my father's apartment. 
 
 My great-aunts Adelaide and Victoire arrived soon after. 
 We were very uneasy about Monsieur, Madame, and my 
 Aunt l&lisabeth, of whom nothing had been heard. My 
 father sent gentlemen to know where they were. They were 
 found sleeping peacefully ; the brigands not having gone to 
 their side of the chateau, neither they nor their servants 
 knew what was happening. They all came at once to my 
 father. My Aunt Elisabeth was so troubled by the danger 
 that the king and queen had run that she crossed the rooms 
 inundated with the blood of the Gardes du Corjps without 
 even perceiving it. . . . 
 
 The courtyard of the chateau presented a horrible sight. 
 A crowd of women, almost naked, and men armed with 
 pikes threatened our windows with dreadful cries. M. de 
 la Fayette and the Due d'Orleans were at one of the 
 windows, pretending to be in despair at the horrors which 
 were being committed during that morning. I do not 
 know who advised my mother to show herself on the 
 balcony, but she went out upon it with my brother. The 
 mob demanded that her son should be sent in; having 
 taken him into the room my mother returned alone to the 
 balcony [expecting to perish, but happily], this great courage 
 awed the whole crowd of people, who confined themselves 
 
214 MADAME :fcLISABETH DE FRANCE. [1789 
 
 to loading her with insults without daring to attack her 
 person. 
 
 M. de la Fayette, on his side, never ceased to harangue 
 the rioters, but his words had no effect and the tumult 
 stiU continued. He told them that my father consented to 
 return with them to Paris; he said he could assure them 
 of this as my father had given him his word. This promise 
 calmed them a little, and while the Court carriages were 
 being made ready to start, all the family returned to their 
 rooms to make their toilet, for up to this time we still wore 
 our night-caps. 
 
 All being arranged for the departure, there was fresh 
 embarrassment about how to leave the chateau, because they 
 wished to prevent my father from crossing the great guard- 
 rooms which were inundated with blood. We therefore 
 went down by a small staircase, crossed the Cour des Cerfs 
 and got iato a carriage for six persons ; on the back seat 
 were my father, mother and brother; on the front seat 
 Madame, my Aunt Elisabeth and I, in the middle my uncle 
 Monsieur and Mme. de Tourzel. My great-aunts, Adelaide 
 and Victoire started for their country-seat, Bellevue, at the 
 same time. 
 
 The crowd was so great it was long before we could ad- 
 vance. In front of the cortege were carried the heads of 
 the two Gardes du Corps who had been killed. Close to the 
 carriage was M. de la Fayette on horseback surrounded by 
 troops of the Flanders regiment on foot, and of the grena- 
 diers of the French guard. [In the ranks of the latter and 
 mingling with them, though with very different sentiments, 
 were several of the Gardes du Corps, who gave to their king 
 in these cruel moments the last mark of devotion which it 
 was ever possible for their regiment to give.] 
 
 We started at one in the afternoon. Though the journey 
 
1789] NARRATIVE OF MADAME ROYALE. 215 
 
 from Versailles to Paris is usually done in two short hours 
 we did not reach the barrier till six in the evening. Along 
 the whole way the brigands never ceased firing their muskets, 
 and it was useless for M. de la Fayette to oppose them; 
 they shouted : Vive la nation ! A las les Calotins ! A las 
 les Pretres ! M. Bailly, Mayor of Paris, in conformity with 
 an ancient custom [so insolent and derisory at this moment], 
 presented my father with the keys of the city on a gold 
 plate, and made him a long speech in which he spoke of 
 the pleasure the good city of Paris would have in possessing 
 the king, whom he urgently requested to go at once to the 
 Hotel de Ville. My father was unwilling to consent, say- 
 ing it would take too long and fatigue his children too 
 much. Nevertheless, M. Bailly insisted, and M. de la 
 Fayette being of the same opinion, — because he thought it 
 better to go the same day rather than wait for the morrow 
 when they would be forced to go, — my father decided to 
 do so. 
 
 Having entered Paris, the shouts, the clamour, the insults 
 increased with the mob of the populace ; it took us two hours 
 to reach the HStel de Ville. My father had ordered all per- 
 sons in his suite who were in the other carriages to go 
 straight to the Tuileries ; he therefore went alone with his 
 family to the Hotel de Ville, where the municipality and 
 M. Bailly received him, still civilly, and made him another 
 speech on their joy at seeing that he wished to establish 
 himself in Paris. My father answered in a few words, from 
 which they could see that he felt his position much. They 
 asked him to rest there a moment, as he had now been eight 
 hours in the carriage. The People, who fiUed the square, 
 shouted loudly and demanded to see the king ; he placed 
 himself therefore at a window of the H6tel de Ville, and as 
 it was now dark they brought torches in order to recognize 
 
216 MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE. [1790 
 
 him. Then we again got into the carriage and reached the 
 Tuileries at ten o'clock. 
 
 Thus passed that fatal day, the opening epoch of the im- 
 prisonment of the royal family and the beginning of the 
 outrages and cruelties it was to bear in the end. The rest of 
 this year, and the year of 1790 were passed in a continual 
 struggle between the Eoyal Power and that arrogated to 
 itself by the Assembly, the latter always gaining the upper 
 hand, although no very remarkable events happened during 
 that time relating to the personal situation of my family. 
 
 Might of my Father ; Stoppage at Varennes ; his Return 
 to Paris. 
 
 \ 
 On the 20th of June, 1790, my father and mother seemed 
 
 to me greatly agitated during the whole day and much oc- 
 cupied, without my knowing the reason. After dinner they 
 sent us, my brother and me, into another room, and shut 
 themselves into their own, alone with my aunt. I knew 
 later that this was the moment when they told the latter of 
 their plan for escaping by flight from the durance under 
 which they were living. At five o'clock my mother went to 
 walk with my brother and me ; during our walk my mother 
 took me aside from her suite, and told me not to be uneasy 
 at anything that I might see ; that we might be separated, 
 but not for long ; I understood nothing of this confidence. 
 Thereupon she kissed me and said that if the ladies of the 
 suite questioned me as to this conversation I was to say that 
 she had scolded me and forgiven me. We returned about 
 seven o'clock and I went to my room very sad, not knowing 
 what to think of what my mother had said to me. I passed 
 the rest of the evening alone ; my mother had induced 
 
1790] NAERATIVE OF MADAME EOYALE. 217 
 
 Mme. de Mackau, my subgoverness, to go and spend a few- 
 days in a convent of which she was very fond, and had also 
 sent into the country a young girl who was usually with me ; 
 besides which she ordered me to send away all my servants 
 except one woman. 
 
 I was hardly in bed before my mother came in ; she told 
 me we were to leave at once, and gave her orders for the ar- 
 rangements ; she said to Mme. Brunyer, my waiting-woman, 
 that she wished her to follow us, but that, having a husband, 
 she was free to remain. That [good] woman replied im- 
 mediately that they did right to go, and as for her she should 
 not hesitate to leave her husband and follow us everywhere. 
 My mother was touched by that mark of attachment. She 
 then went down to bid good-night to Monsieur and Madame, 
 who had supped with her as usual. Monsieur was already 
 informed of the departure ; on returning to his own apart- 
 ment he went to bed, and then, having sent away all his 
 people, he rose [without noise and, disguising himself as an 
 English merchant] he started with one of his gentlemen, 
 M. d'Avaray, who, by his intelligence and devotion enabled 
 him to escape [or surmount] all the dangers of the 
 route. 
 
 As for Madame, she was wholly ignorant of the intended 
 journey, and it was not until after she was in bed that one 
 of her women came and told her she was ordered by the 
 king and Monsieur to take her without delay out of the 
 kingdom. She started at once, and met Monsieur at the first 
 post where they relayed, without appearing to know each 
 other, and so arrived safely at Brussels. 
 
 My mother had already been to wake my brother, whom 
 Mme. de Tourzel took down to her entresol. Having gone 
 there with him we there found awaiting us one of the Gardes 
 du Corps who was to be our guide. My mother came several 
 
218 MADAME :feLISABETH DE FKANCE. [1790 
 
 times to cast an eye upon us while my brother was being 
 dressed as a little girl ; he was heavy with sleep, and did not 
 know what was happening. At half -past ten we were ready ; 
 my mother took us herself to the carriage in the middle of 
 the courtyard and put us into it, my brother and me and 
 Mme. de Tourzel. M. de Fersen, a Swedish noble in the 
 service of France, served us as coachman. To throw people 
 off the scent we made several turns in Paris and returned to 
 the little Carrousel near the Tuileries to wait for my father 
 and mother. My brother was lying at the bottom of the 
 carriage under Mme. de Tourzel's gown. 
 
 We saw M, de la Fayette pass close by us, going to the 
 king's coucher. We waited there a full hour in the greatest 
 impatience and uneasiness at my parents ' long delay. Dur- 
 ing the journey Mme. de Tourzel was to pass for a Baronne 
 de Korff ; my mother as Mme. Bonnet, governess of the lady's 
 children ; my father, under the name of Durand, as valet de 
 chamhre ; my aimt, named Eosalie, as the lady's companion, 
 and my brother and I for the two daughters of Mme. de Korff, 
 named Amelie and Agla^. The two waiting-women followed 
 us in a caliche. The three Gardes du Corps who accompa- 
 nied us passed for servants ; one was on horseback, one on the 
 carriage, and the third went before us as courier. 
 
 After waiting one hour I saw a woman approach and walk 
 round our carriage ; it made me fear we were discovered, 
 but I was soon reassured by seeing the coachman open the 
 carriage door to admit my aunt ; she had escaped alone with 
 one other person. On entering the carriage she trod upon 
 my brother, who was hidden at the bottom of it ; he had the 
 the courage not to utter a cry. She assured us that all was 
 quiet at Court, and that my father and mother would soon 
 come. In fact, the king came almost immediately, and then 
 my mother with a member of the Gardes du Corps, who was 
 
1790] NARRATIVE OF MADAME ROYALE. 219 
 
 to follow us. We then started. At first nothing happened 
 until we reached the barrier, where we were to find the post- 
 carriage which was there to take us on. M. de Fersen did 
 not know precisely where it would be ; we were obliged to 
 wait a rather long time and my father got out, which made 
 us uneasy. At last M. de Fersen came with the other car- 
 riage, into which we got ; that done, he bade my father good- 
 night, mounted his horse, and disappeared.^ 
 
 Nothing remarkable happened to us during the next morn- 
 ing. At Etoges we were on the point of being recognized, 
 and at Chalons-sur-Marne, which we passed through at four 
 in the afternoon, we were so completely. The inhabitants 
 seemed well-intentioned; a great number of them were 
 charmed to see their king and offered wishes for the success 
 of his flight. At the post after Chalons, where we ought to 
 have found troops on horseback to convoy the carriage to 
 Montm^dy, we found none ; and we waited there, expecting 
 them, till eight o'clock in the evening ; then, going on, we 
 reached Clermont, where we saw troops, but the rioters of 
 the village would not allow them to mount their horses. 
 One of their officers recognizing the king, approached the 
 carriage and told him in a low voice that he was betrayed. 
 We continued our way in agitation and anxiety, which, how- 
 
 1 Footnote to the above, written by Louis XVIII. " I think that the 
 last two words should be erased and the following substituted : * and re- 
 turned to Paris, where, having assured himself that all was quiet, he took 
 the road to the Low Countries, arriving tiiere without accident.' All that 
 is true, and for a thousand reasons of which my niece is ignorant, and of 
 which I hope she will always remain ignorant, it is proper that she should 
 show interest in a man who on that day showed so much devotion." 
 
 As a matter of fact Count Fersen drove the party to Bondy, one hour 
 and a half beyond the barrier, where he left them at the king's request ; 
 the royal family continuing along the post-road, and Count Fersen taking, 
 on horseback, the cross-roads to Bourget and thence to Mons. See " Diary 
 and Correspondence of Count Axel Fersen" in the present Historical 
 Series. — Tk. 
 
220 MADAME :ELISABETH DE FRANCE. [1790 
 
 ever, did not prevent us from sleeping; but having been 
 awakened by a violent jolt, they came and told us they were 
 ignorant of what had become of the courier who preceded 
 us. It can be imagined in what fear we were ; we supposed 
 he had been recognized and captured. 
 
 We arrived at the entrance to the village of Varennes, a 
 very small place where there were scarcely a hundred houses 
 and no post-house; so that travellers arriving there were 
 obliged to get their horses from elsewhere. Those intended 
 for us were really there, but at the chateau on the other side 
 of the river, and none of our people knew it ; besides which, 
 our postilions protested that their horses were tired and 
 could go no farther. Our courier then appeared, and with 
 him a man whom he believed to be in our secret, but who 
 was really, as we had reason to believe, a spy of M. de la 
 Fayette. He came to the carriage in a night-cap and dress- 
 ing-gown, put himself almost into it, and said he knew a 
 secret but could not tell it. Mme. de Tourzel having asked 
 him if he knew Mme. de Korff, he said no ; except those 
 words, said while he looked fixedly at my father, it was im- 
 possible to get anything from him. 
 
 They succeeded at last in persuading the postilions that 
 the horses were at the chateau and that they must take us 
 there ; they therefore drove on ; but very slowly. As we 
 entered the village we were shocked by the dreadful cries 
 around the carriage : " Stop ! stop ! " Then the horses' heads 
 were seized and, in a moment, the carriage was surrounded 
 by a number of armed men with torches ; it was then eleven 
 o'clock at night. They asked us who we were ; we said : 
 Mme. de Korff, and her family. They put their torches close 
 to my father's face, and told us to get out ; we refused, saying 
 we were simple travellers and ought to be allowed to pass ; 
 they repeated loudly that we must get out or they would kill 
 
1790] NARRATIVE OF MADAME ROY ALE. 221 
 
 US all, and we saw their guns pointed at the carriage. We 
 were therefore forced to get out. As we passed along the 
 street we saw six dragoons on horseback ; unfortunately there 
 was no officer with them, for six determined men could have 
 awed those people and saved the king. We were taken to 
 the house of a man named Sauce, mayor of Varennes and a 
 dealer in candles. 
 
 . While the tocsin sounded and the people uttered cries, my 
 father kept himself in the farthest corner of the room ; but 
 unfortunately his portrait was there, and the people gazed at 
 him and the picture alternately. My mother and Mme. de 
 Tourzel complained loudly of the injustice of our stoppage, 
 saying that she was travelling quietly with her family under 
 a government passport, and that the king was not with us. 
 The crowd increased, but in spite of the dreadful noise, our 
 three Gardes du Corps went to sleep. We were all packed 
 together in a very small room, and many of the villagers were 
 there with us. They sent for the judge, to examine my father 
 and decide if he was the king. Having done so, he said 
 nothing. My aunt asking impatiently if he believed it was 
 my father, he still said nothing, but raised his eyes to heaven. 
 Meantime M. de Choiseul and Goguelat, officers appointed 
 to bring troops to meet us, arrived, but without soldiers ; 
 they said they could not bring them because the bridge was 
 blocked by a cart.^ 
 
 1 This, of course, is the narrative of a young girl, given, no doubt, with 
 her natural conscientiousness. It ought to be compared with the Due de 
 Choiseul's own account, which seems to have satisfied Count Fersen, the 
 man whose plan was ruined. See "Diary and Corr. of Count Axel 
 Eersen," pp. 271-277. 
 
 The failure of the escape was due to four causes : (1) the carelessness 
 of young Bouille ; (2) his father, the Marquis de Bouille's error in waiting 
 on the frontier ; (3) the delay of four or five hours after leaving Chalons, 
 for no real reason ; (4) the king's want of character ; it is plain that had 
 he taken the situation by the horns and commanded it, he could easily 
 have saved himself and family. — Tr. 
 
222 MADAME I:LISABETH DE EEANCE. [1790 
 
 At last, every one declaring himself convinced that my 
 father was the king, he, seeing that he had no means of 
 escape, took the course of disclosing himself; and having 
 said he was the king, all present threw themselves at his 
 feet and kissed his hands ; among others, a major, named 
 KoUin, who had insulted my father before he recognized him, 
 now fell at his feet and protested all that a faithful subject 
 could think or feel. He then rose as if furious, and retired. 
 The whole family of the house also surrounded my father, 
 and the tocsin still sounded. But in spite of these signs of 
 devotion, they said he must not pass, for it was dreadful in 
 him to abandon his people, and that he ought to return to 
 Paris. 
 
 Things were thus when, at three in the morning, two 
 agents of M. de la Fayette, sent in pursuit of my father, 
 MM. Baillon and Eomeuf , arrived, and they insisted vigorously 
 on his return to Paris. M. Baillon let my father know that 
 he came from the city of Paris to beg him to return, saying 
 that they were in despair at his having quitted it as he had 
 done, and that he ought necessarily to return. 
 
 Nevertheless, we tried on our side to delay as long as pos- 
 sible, to gain time, and wait to see if help would not arrive. 
 On the other hand, those who had stopped us pressed us ex- 
 tremely to start, being in the greatest fear that in so small 
 a place as Varennes and so near the frontier, the king might 
 be carried off, which could very easily have happened if any 
 one had been there who had any head. 
 
 On the other side of the river the son of M. de Bouilld 
 was waiting, but as he had been three consecutive nights 
 without sleep, fatigue overcame him, and he did not wake 
 till the next morning, to hear of the stoppage of the 
 king and his return to Paris. The other officers, who were 
 on this side of the river, MM. de Damas and de Choiseul, 
 
1790] NARRATIVE OF MADAME ROY ALE. 223 
 
 got lost in the woods, having taken too long a road ; their 
 horses were exhausted, and they did not arrive until long 
 after we were stopped ; so that seeing the affair had failed, 
 they were in despair and did not have the patience [the 
 thought] or perhaps the means to go in search of the Mar- 
 quis de Bouill^ who was waiting for us two posts beyond 
 Varennes. At last, at six in the morning, seeing there was 
 no remedy or help to be looked for, we were absolutely forced 
 to take the road back to Paris. 
 
 During all this catastrophe we never saw the famous 
 Drouet, who made so much talk about the part he was said 
 to have played ; it is true that, on leaving Clermont, we saw 
 a man on horseback, who passed our carriage, and it may 
 have been he. As for the other, named Guillaume, we saw 
 him, but not imtil after my father had made himself known ; 
 and that man said he had not recognized him, but only my 
 aunt, whom he saw at the Federation. 
 
 We therefore got into the carriage, but not without danger ; 
 they did not wish our three Gardes du Corps to accompany 
 us, and it was with great difficulty that they at last permitted 
 them to sit on the box of the carriage ; the other officers 
 were more exposed, and were afterwards imprisoned and taken 
 to Orleans. . . . Arriving at Sainte-Menehould at half-past 
 three o'clock, we were allowed to leave the carriage for the 
 first time since six in the morning. They took us to the 
 house of the mayor, named Farcy. This man had formerly 
 served at Court, but was much dissatisfied with abuses he 
 declared he had seen there. His wife came repeatedly to 
 my father, saying, " But why did you wish to leave us ? " In 
 vain did they tell her, as they did to others, that my father 
 did not mean to leave them, but only to go to Montm^dy, 
 which was really his project; but the people would listen to 
 nothing and could not be pacified. 
 
224 MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE. [1790 
 
 While we were at dinner a man named Bodand arrived, 
 deputy of the Commune of Paris, to beg my father in the 
 name of that city, to return to it as soon as possible ; my 
 father, being no longer master of doing otherwise, could only 
 let himself be led. As soon as we had dined, we returned 
 to the carriage, and an hour later met a gentleman of the 
 neighbourhood named Dampierre, who, in despair at the king's 
 being stopped, came to see him, but did not reach our car- 
 riage, only that of the waiting-women. The peasants knew 
 him to be what they called an aristocrat, and showed them- 
 selves very ill-disposed towards him. Our women begged 
 him to go away, but hardly had he spurred his horse before 
 the people who surrounded the carriages fired at him ; he was 
 flung to the ground, and a man on horseback rode over him 
 and struck him several blows with a sabre ; others did the 
 same, and soon killed him. The scene, which took place 
 close to our carriage and under our eyes, was horrible for us ; 
 but more dreadful still was the fury of these wretches, who, 
 not content with having killed him, wanted to drag his body 
 to our carriage and show it to my father. He objected with 
 all his strength ; the postilions, however, would not advance ! 
 but at last one man, more humane than the others, went to 
 the postilions pistol in hand, threatening to shoot them if 
 they did not go on ; so at last they started. In spite of that, 
 these cannibals came on triumphantly, round the carriage, 
 holding up the hat, coat, and clothing of the imfortunate 
 Dampierre; and, paying no attention to my father's en- 
 treaties, they carried these horrible trophies beside us along 
 the road. It was thus that we passed the rest of that day 
 in the midst of insults and perils. 
 
 At last, at eleven at night we reached Chalons. There we 
 heard of the arrest of M. de Briges, the king's equerry, who, 
 hearing of my father's departure from Paris, had left his regi- 
 
1790] NARRATIVE OF MADAME ROYALE. 225 
 
 ment to join him. He was met on the way by M. Baillon, 
 M. de la Fayette's emissary, who, seeing that he had no 
 posthorses, took him with him, brought him to Chalons, and 
 there, with the cruellest treachery, denounced him, and had 
 him arrested. Such was the reward of his love and attach- 
 ment to his king. Hearing of our arrival at Chalons, M. de 
 Briges asked to see my father, but in vain, and he had the 
 pain of listening to the insults heaped upon him. We were 
 taken to the Maison-Eoyale at Chalons, where we were well- 
 lodged and well-treated. The inhabitants of the town 
 seemed well-disposed, especially the mayor, M. Eose, and 
 the military commander M. Eeubel, a former Garde du Corps. 
 My mother even found in her room a man who proposed to 
 her to escape, which she refused, fearing treachery and seeing 
 moreover countless difficulties. 
 
 We were all so fatigued at having passed two nights in up- 
 roar and terror that we slept soundly. The next day, we 
 resumed the clothes belonging to our rank, and my brother 
 was again dressed as a boy. Throughout that morning many 
 persons came to see my father, and did so from interest and 
 in no way with insult, as had been shown elsewhere. My 
 brother, especially, enchanted every one by his amiability. 
 This was the day of the Fete-Dieit, and they took us to mass 
 at ten in the morning ; but the Offertory had scarcely begun 
 before we heard a great noise, and they came to tell my 
 father that we must leave the mass at once, because the 
 enemy was arriving. It was M. de Bouill^ and his troops of 
 whom they thus spoke. We were therefore taken to our 
 rooms and shut up there, where we stayed quite a long time. 
 They served us a dinner, but in the middle of it another 
 alarm was sounded and they obliged us to start at once. Of 
 all the places we passed through, Chalons was the one where 
 we were best treated by the inhabitants. ... 
 
 15 
 
226 MADAME ELISABETH DE FKANCE. [1790 
 
 We reached Epernay at three in the afternoon. It was 
 there that my father ran the greatest danger of the whole 
 journey. Imagine the courtyard of the hotel where we were 
 to get out fiUed with angry people armed with pikes, who 
 surrounded the carriage in such crowds that it could not 
 enter the courtyard. We were therefore absolutely obliged 
 to leave it outside and cross that courtyard on foot amid the 
 hoots of these people who said openly they wished to kiU. us. 
 Of all the awful moments I have known, this was one of 
 those which struck me most, and the horrible impression of 
 it will never leave me. 
 
 Entering the house at last, they made us eat a miserable 
 meal. In spite of all the threats of the ferocious populace 
 to massacre every one, they did not go farther and we started 
 from Epernay about six in the evening. Just then they 
 came to tell us that deputies of the National Assembly were 
 arriving. These were Potion, Barnave, Maubourg, Dumas, 
 commandant of the Garde of the Assembly, and his nephew 
 La Eue. At the moment that the deputies approached our 
 carriage, an unfortunate priest who had not taken the oath 
 was close by it ; the peasants, who wished to kill him, had 
 thrown him on the ground, but a Garde on horseback picked 
 him up, put him behind him and rode up to us. At that 
 moment the murderers tried to seize him again under the very 
 eyes of the deputies. My mother cried out to Barnave to 
 save him, which he succeeded in doing through the ascen- 
 dency he had over the people, and the poor priest escaped 
 with only a wound. 
 
 The deputies, having approached the carriage, told my 
 father that by order of the National Assembly they were 
 charged to bring him back to Paris, blaming him at the same 
 time for wishing to leave France. My father answered that 
 he had never had any intention of leaving his kingdom, but 
 
1790] NARRATIVE OF MADAME ROYALE. 227 
 
 only that of going to Montm^dy. The deputies then, declar- 
 ing they were ordered not to let us out of sight, said they 
 must get into our carriage ; but, as it could not hold so many 
 persons, they arranged that my aunt and I should go in their 
 carriage with Maubourg, and that Potion and Barnave should 
 sit with my father and mother. But my aunt and I abso- 
 lutely refused to leave the carriage. In spite of that they 
 entered it, and though there was no room, Petion placed 
 himself between my father and my mother, who was thus 
 forced to take my brother on her knees. Barnave sat 
 between my aunt, who placed me before her, and Mme. de 
 Tourzel. These deputies talked much and disclosed openly 
 their manner of thinking ; to which my mother and my aunt 
 replied rather energetically. This Potion was a great rascal, 
 as he proved later, and Barnave was a small lawyer of 
 DauphiQ^ who wanted to play a part under the circum- 
 stances. Maubourg was [a man of another species, but] an 
 insignificant being who had let himself be drawn into the 
 Eevolution without knowing why. 
 
 We reached Dormans in the evening, and slept at a little 
 inn. The deputies were lodged side by side with us. Our 
 windows looked on the street, which all night long was filled 
 with the populace shouting, and wanting us to go on in the 
 middle of the night ; but the deputies no doubt wanted to 
 rest themselves, and so we stayed. My brother was ill all 
 night and almost had delirium, so shocked was he by the 
 dreadful things he had seen on the preceding day. 
 
 The next day, June 24th, nothmg happened of importance, 
 except impertinent speeches from the deputies, yells and 
 insults from the people, and the excessive heat which over- 
 came us because we were, as I have said, eight persons in a 
 carriage holding only four. 
 
 "We stopped for dinner at Fert^-la-Jouarre ; where my 
 
228 MADAME I:LISABETH DE EKAJSrCE. [1790 
 
 father was well-received by the mayor, named Eenard, who 
 had the delicacy to prevent any one from entering his house 
 or garden. We were told that our three Gardes du Corps must 
 be left behind, because there was no safety for them in. Paris. 
 They remained, nevertheless, with us and nothing happened 
 to them. . . . We slept at Meaux in the bishop's house, full 
 of priests who had taken the oath, but otherwise civil 
 enough; the bishop himself served us. They informed us 
 that we must start the next day at five in the morning so as 
 to reach Paris in good season. 
 
 We started at six, and though it is only ten leagues from 
 Meaux to Paris, we did not reach Bondy, the last post, till 
 midday nor the Tuileries till half-past seven at night. At 
 Bondy the populace showed its desire to massacre our three 
 Gar des-du- Corps, and my father did all he could to save 
 them, in which, it must be owned, the deputies eagerly 
 seconded him. The crowd we met along the road was in- 
 numerable, so that we could scarcely advance. The insults 
 with which the people loaded us were our only food through- 
 out the day. In the faubourgs of Paris the crowd was even 
 greater, and among all those persons we saw but one woman 
 fairly well-dressed who showed by her tears the interest she 
 took in us. 
 
 On the Place Louis XV. was M. de la Fayette, apparently 
 at the summit of joy at the success of the blow he had just 
 struck; he was there, surrounded by a people submissive 
 to his orders ; he could have destroyed my father at once, 
 but he preferred to save him longer in order that he might 
 serve his own designs. 
 
 We were made to drive through the garden of the Tuile- 
 ries, surrounded by weapons of all sorts, and muskets which 
 almost touched us. When the deputies said anything to the 
 people they were instantly obeyed, and it is no doubt to their 
 
1790] 
 
 NAKRATIVE OF MADAME ROYALE. 229 
 
 intentions (good or bad) that my father owed his preservation 
 at that moment ; for had those deputies not been with us it 
 is more than likely we should then have been murdered. It 
 was they also who saved the Gardes du Corjps. 
 
 On arriving at the Tuileries and getting out of the car- 
 riage, we were almost carried off our feet by the enormous 
 crowd that filled the staircase. My father went up first, 
 with my mother and my brother. As for me, I was to go 
 with my aunt, and one of the deputies took me in his arms 
 to carry me up. In vain did I cry for my aunt ; the noise 
 was so dreadful she could not hear me. At last we were 
 all reunited iu the king's room, where were nearly all the 
 deputies of the National Assembly, who, however, seemed 
 very civil and did not stay long. My father entered the 
 inner rooms with his family, and seeing them all in safety, 
 I left him and went to my own apartments, beiug quite 
 worn out with fatigue and inanition. I did not know imtO. 
 the next morning what took place that evening. Guards 
 were placed over the whole family, with orders not to let 
 them out of sight, and to stay night and day in their 
 chambers. My father had them in his room at night, but 
 in the daytime they were stationed in the next room. My 
 mother would not allow them to be in the room where she 
 slept with a waiting-woman, but they stayed in the adjoining 
 room with the doors open. My brother had them also, night 
 and day ; but my aunt and I had none. M. de la Fayette 
 even proposed to my aunt to leave the Tuileries, if she 
 wished to do so, but she replied that she would never sepa- 
 rate froni the king. 
 
 My father and mother could not leave their rooms, not 
 even to go to church, and mass was said in their apartments. 
 No one could enter the Tuileries unless by cards of permis- 
 sion, which M. de la Fayette granted to few. 
 
230 MADAME ]fcLISABETH DE FRANCE. [1792 
 
 Such was the state of my parents' captivity during more 
 than two months until the acceptance by the king of the 
 Constitution. After that, we had several months of respite 
 and apparent tranquillity, but the king found himself in a 
 constant struggle with the Assembly, which ulcerated all 
 minds more and more, daily. 
 
 Assault on the Tuileries hy the Populace June 20, 1792. 
 
 Under the circumstances of that time the people took a 
 mania to place in all the public squares and gardens what 
 were called " liberty trees ; " these were little trees or tall 
 poles, at the top of which they put the honnet rouge with 
 tricolour ribbons — that is to say, red, blue, and white. They 
 expressed to my father a wish to plant one in the garden 
 of the Tuileries, and he acquiesced. The day they planted 
 this tree was made a species of revolutionary fete, somewhat 
 like that formerly given at the planting of the May tree on 
 the first of that month. They triumphed in having wrung 
 this consent from my father, and to celebrate it they chose 
 the 20th of June, the anniversary of our departure for 
 Yarennes, and the fete was to take place beneath our win- 
 dows. From all these signs my parents could augur nothing 
 good and expect nothing but fresh insults heaped upon 
 them. 
 
 Previous to this, the Assembly had exacted that the king 
 should sign their decree that all priests who had not taken 
 the oath were to be sent out of France. My father would 
 not acquiesce in that decree, and had put his veto upon it. 
 This veto was a derisory right which the Assembly allowed 
 the king to exercise when he would not acquiesce in their 
 propositions. On this refusal, they exasperated all minds 
 
1792] NARRATIVE OF MADAME ROYALE. 231 
 
 against my father, constantly seeking to force him in one 
 way or another to give his consent to the decree. This, 
 therefore, was the concealed object they wished to succeed 
 in on the occasion of this f^te. 
 
 On the 20th of June, about eleven o'clock in the morning, 
 nearly all the inhabitants of the faubourgs Saint-Antoine and 
 Saint-Marceau, where the populace chiefly lived, marched 
 in a body to the National Assembly, to go from there to the 
 garden and plant the liberty-tree. But as they were all 
 armed, which gave reason to suspect bad intentions, my 
 father ordered the gates of the Tuileries to be closed. The 
 Assembly showed great dissatisfaction, and sent a depu- 
 tation of four municipals to induce the king to order the 
 gates to be opened. These deputies spoke very insolently ; 
 said they exacted the opening of the gates in order that 
 those who had come to plant the tree, the sign of liberty, 
 might return that way, inasmuch as the crowd in the rue 
 Saint-Honord was too great to allow them to pass. My 
 father, however, persisted in his refusal, and they then 
 went and opened themselves the gates of the garden, 
 which was instantly inundated by the populace ; the 
 gates of the courtyards and the chateau still remained 
 locked. 
 
 An hour later this armed procession began to defile before 
 our windows, and no idea can be formed of the insults they 
 said to us. Among others, they carried a banner on which 
 were these words : " Tremble, tyrant ; the people have risen ; " 
 and they held it before the windows of my father who, 
 though he was not visible himself, could see all and hear 
 their cries of " Down with Veto ! " and other horrors. 
 This lasted until three o'clock, when the garden was at 
 last freed. The crowd then passed through the Place du 
 Carrousel to the courtyards of the Tuileries, but quietly, 
 
232 MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE. [1792 
 
 and it was generally thought they were returning to their 
 faubourgs. 
 
 During this time our family were in the rooms on the 
 courtyard side, absolutely alone and observing all that went 
 on ; the gentlemen of the suite and the ladies dined on the 
 other side. Suddenly we saw the populace forcing the gates 
 of the courtyard and rushing to the staircase of the chateau. 
 It was a horrible sight to see, and impossible to describe — 
 that of these people, with fury in their faces, armed with 
 pikes and sabres, and pell-mell with them women half un- 
 clothed, resembling Furies. 
 
 Two of the ushers wishing to run the bolts of my father's- 
 door, he prevented it and sprang himself into the next room 
 to meet the rioters. My aunt followed him hastily, and 
 hardly had she passed when the door was locked. My 
 mother and I ran after her in vain ; we could not pass, and 
 at that moment several persons came to us, and finally, the 
 guard. My mother cried out : " Save my son ! " Imme- 
 diately some one took him in his arms and carried him off. 
 My mother and I, being determined to follow my brother, did 
 all we could against the persons who prevented us from 
 passing; prayers, efforts, all were useless, and we had to 
 remain in our room in mortal anxiety. My mother kept 
 her courage, but it almost abandoned her when, at last, 
 entering my brother's room she could not find him. The 
 persons who, on her own order, had carried him away lost 
 their heads, and in the confusion, took him up higher in 
 the chateau, where they thought him in greater safety. 
 My mother then sent for him and had him brought back 
 to his room. There we awaited, in the silence of profound 
 anxiety, for news of what had happened to my father. 
 
 Eeturning to him, I must resume at the moment when 
 he passed through the door which was then locked against 
 
1792] NARRATIVE OF MADAME ROYALE. 233 
 
 US. As soon as lie thought the danger passed the king dis- 
 missed his suite, so that no one was with him but my Aunt 
 Elisabeth, [Mar^chal de Mouchy (who in spite of his 77 
 years and my father's order persisted in remaining), two old 
 ushers, the brave Acloque, commander of the division of the 
 National Guard, an example of fidelity in the uniform of re- 
 bellion] ,i and M. d'Hervilly, lieutenant-colonel of the new 
 King's-Guard, who, seeing the danger, ran to call the Guard 
 and collected about twenty grenadiers, but on reaching the 
 staircase he found only six had followed; the others had 
 abandoned him. My father was therefore almost alone 
 when the door was forced in by one sapeur, axe in hand 
 raised to strike him, but [here] by his coolness and imper- 
 turbable courage my father so awed the assassin that the 
 weapon fell from his hand, — an event almost incomprehen- 
 sible. It is said that some one cried out : " Unhappy man, 
 what are you about to do ? " and that those words petrified 
 him ; for my part I think that what restrained that wretch 
 was Divine Providence and the ascendancy that virtue always 
 maintains over crime. 
 
 The blow having thus failed, the other accomplices, see- 
 ing that their leader had let himself be cowed, dared not 
 execute their evil designs. Of all this mass of the populace, 
 there were certainly very few who knew precisely what they 
 were expected to do. To each had been given twenty sous 
 and a musket ; they were sent in drunk with orders to insult 
 us in every imaginable way. Their leader, Santerre, had 
 brought them as far as the courtyard, and there he awaited 
 the success of his enterprise. He was desperate on learning 
 that his stroke had missed, and he came near being killed 
 himself by a man in the chateau, who aimed for him, 
 
 1 This entire passage was rewritten, corrected, and the additions made 
 by Louis XVIII. — Fr. Ed. 
 
234 MADAME :feLISABETH DE FRANCE. [1792 
 
 and was prevented from shooting only by remonstrances 
 as to the danger to which he exposed my father ; for if 
 Santerre were sacrificed the brigands would surely avenge 
 him. 
 
 My father was nevertheless obliged to allow all these 
 wretches to go through the rooms of the chateau, and, 
 standing himself in a window with my aunt, he watched 
 them pass before him and heard the insults with which 
 they overwhelmed him. It was on this horrible day that 
 my father and my aunt each made a memorable speech. 
 At the moment of the greatest danger a soldier came up 
 to the king and said to him, " Sire, fear nothing." My 
 father took his hand and laid it on his own heart. " Does 
 it beat hard, grenadier ? " he said. Shortly before, my Aunt 
 Elisabeth, being mistaken for the queen, saw herself ex- 
 posed to the utmost fury of the brigands; some one near 
 was about to make her known. " Do not undeceive them," 
 cried my aimt with sublime devotion. 
 
 This dreadful situation lasted from half-past three in the 
 afternoon till eight at night. Pdtion, mayor of Paris, arrived, 
 pretending to be much astonished on hearing of the danger 
 the king had run. In haranguing the people he had the 
 impudence to say : " Eeturn to your homes with the same 
 dignity with which you came." The Assembly, seeing that 
 the stroke had missed, changed its tone, pretended to have 
 been ignorant of everything, and sent deputation after depu- 
 tation to the king expressing the grief it feigned to feel 
 for his danger. 
 
 Meantime my mother, who, as I said, could not rejoin the 
 king, and was in her apartment with my brother and me, 
 was a long time without hearing any news. At last, the 
 minister of war came to tell her that my father was well ; 
 he urged her to leave the room where we then were, as it was 
 
1792] NARRATIVE OF MADAME ROYALE. 235 
 
 not safe, and we therefore went into the king 's little bed- 
 chamber. We were scarcely there before the rioters en- 
 tered the apartment we had just left. The room in which 
 we now were had three doors : one by which we had entered, 
 another opening upon a private staircase, a third communi- 
 cating with the Council Chamber. They were all three 
 locked, but the first two were attacked, one by the wretches 
 who were pursuing us, the other by men who came up the 
 little staircase, where we heard their shouts and the blows of 
 their axes. 
 
 In this close danger my mother was perfectly calm ; she 
 placed my brother behind every one and near the door of the 
 Council Chamber, which was still safe, then she placed her- 
 self at the head of us all. Soon we heard some one at the 
 door of the Council Chamber begging to enter. It was 
 one of my brother's servants, pale as death, who said only 
 these few words : " Madame, escape ! the villains are follow- 
 ing me." At the same instant, the other doors were forced 
 in. In this crisis my mother hastily ordered the third door 
 opened and passed into the Council Chamber, where there 
 were, already, a number of the National Guard and a crowd 
 of wretches. 
 
 My mother said to the soldiers that she came to take re- 
 fuge with her son among them. The soldiers instantly sur- 
 rounded us ; a large table standing in the middle of the 
 Chamber, served my mother to lean upon, my brother was 
 seated on it, and the brigands defiled past it to look at us. 
 We were separated from my father by only two rooms, and 
 yet it was impossible to join him, so great was the crowd. 
 We were therefore obliged to stay there and listen to all the 
 insults that these wretches said to us as they passed. A 
 half clothed woman dared to come to the table with a bon- 
 net rouge in her hand and my mother was forced to let her 
 
236 MADAME :feLISABETH DE FRANCE. [1792 
 
 place it on her son's head ; as for us, we were obliged to put 
 cockades on our heads. It was, as I have said, about eight 
 o'clock when this dreadful procession of rioters ceased to 
 pass and we were able to rejoin my father and aunt. No 
 one can imagine our feelings at that reunion ; they were 
 such that even the deputies from the Assembly were touched. 
 My brother was overcome with fatigue and they put him to 
 bed. We stayed together for a time, the room being full of 
 deputies. An hour later they went away, and about eleven 
 o'clock, after having passed a most terrible day, we separated 
 to get some rest. . . . 
 
 The next day Pdtion came again to play the hypocrite, 
 saying he had heard of more assemblings of the people and 
 he had hastened to defend the king. My father ordered him 
 to be silent; but as he still tried to protest his attach- 
 ment, my father said : " Be silent, monsieur ; I know your 
 thoughts." 
 
 Massacre at the Tuileries ; Dethronement of my Father. 
 The Days from the IQth to the IZth of August, 1792. 
 
 After the fatal epoch of June 20, my family no longer en- 
 joyed any tranquillity ; every day there were fresh alarms, 
 and rumours that the faubourgs Saint Antoine and Saint 
 Marceau [together with those wretches who were called the 
 Marseillais] were marching against the chateau. Some- 
 times they sounded the tocsin and beat the generate ; some- 
 times, under pretext of a dinner of confraternity, they invited 
 [and worked upon] the sections of opposite opinions to de- 
 mand the dethronement of the king, which Danton, Eobes- 
 pierre, and their party wanted at all costs. After these 
 many preludes, we heard with certainty on the 9th of August 
 that the populace, armed, was assembling to attack the 
 
1792] NARRATIVE OF MADAME ROYALE. 237 
 
 Tuileries ; it was already evening. The troops who remained 
 faithful to my father were therefore hastily collected, among 
 them the Swiss Guard ; and a great number of the nobles 
 who were [still] in Paris arrived [in haste]. Imagine the 
 situation of my unhappy parents during that horrible night ; 
 they remained together [expecting only carnage and death], 
 and my mother had ordered my brother and me to go to bed. 
 
 Potion arrived about eleven o'clock, exclaiming loudly 
 against this new tumult. My father treated him as he de- 
 served and sent him away; nevertheless, malignant people 
 spread the news that Pdtion was kept prisoner in the Tuile- 
 ries ; [on which] minds grew [embittered and] inflamed even 
 to fury, and at midnight the signal was given to begin the 
 dreadful massacre. The first shot fired killed M. Clermont- 
 Tonnerre, a member of the First Assembly. For a part of the 
 night the tumult went on outside the Tuileries, where fresh 
 reinforcements of the National Guard were successively ar- 
 riving ; unfortunately, [far] too many came, for most of them 
 were already seduced and treacherously inclined. 
 
 At six in the morning it was suggested to my father to 
 visit all the posts and encourage the troops to defend him ; 
 but only a few cries of Vive le Roi ! were heard in the court- 
 yards, and what was worse, when he wished to enter the 
 garden, the artillery-men, most wicked of all, dared to turn 
 their cannon against their king ; a thing not believable if I 
 did not declare that I saw it with my own eyes. 
 
 My father, having thus indubitably recognized the bad 
 disposition of the I^ational Guard, saw but too well that no 
 faithful subjects remained about him, except a few nobles 
 who had come to us, a part of the servants of the cha- 
 teau, and the Swiss Guard ; they all armed themselves. M. 
 Mandat, commandant of the National Guard in the Tuileries 
 [a man of little enterprise but faithful], was summoned by 
 
238 MADAME :ELISABETH DE FRANCE. [1792 
 
 the mayor to the Hotel de Ville; there he was murdered 
 by order of the municipality, who immediately appointed 
 Santerre to replace him. Towards seven in the morning 
 Eoederer, head of the department, arrived. He asked to 
 speak alone with the king ; there, he threw himself at his 
 feet and conjured him to save himself; he represented to 
 him that furious brigands were arriving in masses, that he 
 had too few persons to defend him, that he had no course 
 left but to go, he and his family, and take refuge in the 
 National Assembly. My father rejected the idea for a long 
 time, but Ecederer insisting, and the perO. becoming urgent 
 and inevitable, he at last resolved to go to the Assembly 
 with his family, Mme. de Lamballe, and Mme. de Tourzel. 
 He left all the rest of his people in the chateau, not doubt- 
 ing that as soon as it was known that he had gone, the tu- 
 mult would cease and there would be no longer any danger 
 for those he left there.^ 
 
 We crossed the garden of the Tuileries in the midst of a 
 few National guards, who still remained faithful. On the 
 way we were told that the Assembly would not receive my 
 father. The terrace of the Feuillants, along which we had 
 to pass, was full of wretches, who assailed us with insults ; 
 one of them cried out : " No women, or we will kill them 
 all ! " My mother was not frightened at the threat and 
 continued her way. At last we entered the passage to the 
 Assembly. Before being admitted [to the hall] we had to 
 wait more than half an hour, a number of deputies still 
 
 1 To this Louis XVIII. adds in a footnote : " After the words ' the rest 
 of his people ' [son monde] should be added : ' and the ladies, among whom 
 were Mmes. de Tarente, de Duras, de la Rocheaymon, etc., who stayed 
 there by his order.' I mention these ladies here all the more willingly 
 because I am certain they were there. I add ' by his order,' 1st, because it 
 is true ; 2d, because it explains why so few persons followed the king 
 and queen to the Assembly." — Tr. 
 
1792] NARRATIVE OF MADAME ROYALE. 239 
 
 opposing our entrance. We were thus kept in a narrow 
 corridor, so dark that we could see nothing, and hear noth- 
 ing but the shouts of the furious mob. My father, my 
 mother, and my brother were in front with Mme. de Tourzel ; 
 my aunt was with me, on the other side. I was held by a 
 man whom I did not know. I have never thought myself 
 so near death, not doubting that the decision was made to 
 murder us all. In the darkness I could not see my parents, 
 and I feared everything for them. We were left to this 
 mortal agony more than half an hour. 
 
 At last we were allowed to enter the hall of the Assembly, 
 and my father on entering said [in a loud voice] that he 
 came to take refuge with his family in the bosom of the 
 Assembly, to prevent the French nation from committing a 
 great crime. We were placed at the bar, and they then dis- 
 cussed whether it was proper that my father should be pres- 
 ent at their deliberations. They said, as to that, that it was 
 impossible to let him stay at the bar without infringing on 
 the inviolability of the sovereign people ; and they declaimed 
 speeches thereon which were full of horrors. After this they 
 took us into the box of a journalist. 
 
 We had hardly entered this species of cage when we heard 
 cannon, musket-shots, and the cries of those who were mur- 
 dering in the Tuileries ; but we were ignorant at the time of 
 what was happening. We heard later how the massacre 
 began. My father had hardly left the chateau before a party 
 of wretches [already in the courtyards] began to attack with 
 armes Uanches [sabres and pikes] the Swiss Guard, who 
 fired in self-defence. Nothing more was needed to push 
 their fury to the highest point ; those who were outside hear- 
 ing the Swiss fire first, and taking them for the aggressors, 
 spread the rumour that my father had ordered them to fire 
 on the people. Soon, not only the courtyard gates but those 
 
240 MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE. [1792 
 
 of the chateau were forced, and these madmen rushed in, 
 massacring all whom they found, especially the Swiss. 
 [Then and there perished an immensity of faithful servitors 
 of all ranks and all classes. Among the victims were MM. 
 de Clermont d'Amboise and de Castdja, de Viomesnil and 
 d'Hervilly ; the Mardchal de Mailly, MM. de Maillardoz and 
 de Bachmann died later. All the old officers of the Guard 
 called " constitutional," the two battalions of the Filles-St.- 
 Thomas and the Petits-Peres distinguished themselves by an 
 unbounded devotion, though, unhappily, fruitless. What 
 could they do against a multitude maddened with drink and 
 blood and fury ?] The Tuileries then became a spectacle of 
 horror ; blood ran everywhere, especially in the apartments 
 of the king and queen. Nevertheless, in the midst of these 
 abominations some traits of humanity were shown ; among 
 these monsters were some who saved several persons, taking 
 them by the arm and making them pass for their friends or 
 relatives. The carnage lasted all that day on one side or 
 the other; the number of brigands who perished was con- 
 siderable, for those wretches killed each other in their blind 
 fury. At night, the chateau took fire ; fortunately, the flames 
 lasted but a little while, and so ended those awful and too 
 memorable scenes. 
 
 Meantime our terrors increased as these dreadful noises 
 went on ; but it was even worse when we heard the same 
 sort of cries close to the Assembly. The members them- 
 selves were frightened, and in their fear they tore out the 
 iron railing of the box where we were and forced my father 
 into the midst of them ; but this tumult was soon appeased. 
 It was occasioned by the approach of a number of the Swiss 
 Guard who had escaped from the Tuileries and were trying 
 to come to the support of the king ; they had almost forced 
 the door of the Assembly when an officer said to them: 
 
1792] NARRATIVE OF MADAME ROYALE. 241 
 
 *' What are you doing ? The king is in the midst of assas- 
 sins ; they will murder him if you advance." This reflection 
 held them back and they surrendered ; it was thus that these 
 brave foreigners [ever faithful], to the number of about one 
 hundred, escaped the massacre. As for those of their com- 
 patriots who did not perish in the Tuileries, they were taken 
 to the H6tel-de-Ville and there massacred with their princi- 
 pal officers. A forged order from the king was sent to 
 summon the Swiss Guard from the barracks at Courbevoie ; 
 on their arrival in Paris they met the same fate. 
 
 Still kept in the box at the Assembly, we witnessed the 
 horrors of all kinds which there took place. Sometimes they 
 assailed my father and all his family with [the basest and 
 most atrocious] insults, triumphing over him with cruel joy ; 
 sometimes they brought in gentlemen dying of their wounds ; 
 sometimes they brought my father's own servants, who, with 
 the utmost impudence, gave false testimony against him; 
 while others boasted of what they had done. At last, to 
 complete the revolting scene, they brought in the Host and 
 flung the sacred wafers on the ground. It was in the midst 
 of these abominations that our entire day, from eight in the 
 morning until midnight, passed [as one may say] through 
 all gradations of whatever was most terrible, most awful. 
 
 The session ended by [a decree full of insults to my father, 
 declaring the king suspended from his functions and order- 
 ing the convocation of a National Convention. They next 
 wished to take up the fate of my brother ; they proposed to 
 appoint his governor, and even to make him king ; but the 
 latter motion was rejected, and that of giving him a governor 
 was adjourned imtil the Convention should declare whether 
 the Nation desired to still have a king]. At last they per- 
 mitted us, about one at night to retire to one of the little 
 rooms near-by, in the convent of the Feuillants ; there we 
 
 16 
 
242 MADAME :feLISABETH DE FKANCE. [1792 
 
 were left alone [without the slightest defence against the 
 sanguinary rage of these wretches]. The next day, several 
 persons belonging to my father's service came to us. We 
 were forced to return again to the Assembly and spend the 
 whole day there while they discussed what should be done 
 with the king, and where he should be kept. The Place 
 Vendome, tu which is the Chancellerie, was proposed for this 
 purpose, on which Manuel, public prosecutor for the Com- 
 mune of Paris, demanded, in the name of his constituents, to 
 be intrusted with the responsibility of keeping my father and 
 his family ; and this being granted, he proposed the chateau 
 of the Temple for our residence, which was decreed. 
 
 That day and the next were passed like the preceding day ; 
 we were forced to listen in the hall of the Assembly to the 
 prowess of those who had distinguished themselves by their 
 barbarities. At night we returned to our rooms, [where we 
 were not allowed to enjoy in peace the hours consecrated to 
 rest], a deputy of the Assembly coming an hour after mid- 
 night to search and see if we had men hidden there ; none 
 were found, for my father had been obliged to send away 
 those who had come to him. On the 12 th it was determined 
 that we should be transferred to the Temple on the following 
 day. 
 
 On the 13th we did not go to the Assembly. Towards 
 three in the afternoon Potion and Manuel came to take my 
 father, and they made us all get into a carriage with eight 
 seats, into which they got themselves [with their hats on 
 their heads and shouting, Vive la Nation !\ "We drove 
 through the streets leading to the Temple in great peril and 
 loaded with insults ; our conductors themselves feared the 
 people so much that they would not let the carriage stop 
 for a moment; and yet it took two hours before we could 
 reach the Temple through that immense throng. On the 
 
1792-1793] NARRATIVE OF MADAME ROYALE. 243 ' 
 
 way they had the cruelty to point out to my parents things 
 that would distress them, — the statues of the Kings of France 
 thrown down, even that of Henri IV., before which the 
 populace compelled us to stop, to make us look at him on 
 the ground. We did not observe on our way any feeling 
 souls touched by our condition, such terror was now in- 
 spired in those who still thought rightly. And yet, in the 
 midst of so many sights which might well break down the 
 strongest soul, my father and my mother preserved the 
 tranquillity and courage that a good conscience can alone 
 inspire. 
 
 Imprisonment of my Family in the Tower of the Temple y 
 August 13, 1792, followed hy the Trial and Martyrdom 
 of my Father^ January 21, 1793.^ 
 
 On arriving at the Temple on Monday, August 13th, 1792, 
 at six o'clock in the evening, the artillery-men under 
 Santerre wished to take my father to the Tower and leave 
 us in the chateau, Manuel had received on the way a 
 decree of the Commune designating the Tower as our com- 
 mon prison. However, they calmed the artillery-men and 
 we entered the chateau first, where the municipal guards 
 kept my father and all of us within sight. An hour later. 
 Potion went away and my father supped with us. At 
 eleven, my brother dying with sleep, Mme. de Tourzel took 
 him to the Tower, where we were all to go, although nothing 
 had been prepared to receive us. My father was surrounded 
 by the municipal guards, drunk and insolent, who sat down 
 beside him, and talked in a loud voice without the slightest 
 regard to him. At one o'clock we were at last taken over 
 to the Tower, where Manuel, as secretary-general of the 
 
 1 Here begins the part she wrote in the Tower. — Te. 
 
244 MADAME IjLISABETH DE FRANCE. [1792-1793 
 
 Commune, committed us. He was ashamed himself, to find 
 this lodging bare of everything, and such that my aunt was 
 reduced to sleep in the kitchen for several nights. 
 
 The persons who were shut up with us in this fatal place 
 were the Princesse de Lamballe, Mme. de Tourzel and her 
 daughter Pauline, M. de Chamilly, my father's head valet de 
 chamhre, M. Hue, ia the service of my brother, Mmes. Cim- 
 bris, Thibaut, Navarre, and Bazire, waiting-women to my 
 brother, my mother, my aunt, and myself. My father was 
 lodged above on the third floor of the- building adjacent to 
 the main body of the Tower ; having a municipal guard in 
 his room. My aunt occupied a kitchen with Mile, de Tour- 
 zel and Mme. Navarre ; my mother lodged below in a salon, 
 "with me and afterwards Mme. de Lamballe ; and in a third 
 room was my brother with Mme. de Tourzel his governess, 
 and his maid, Mme. Cimbris ; this was a billiard-room. 
 Mmes. Thibaut and Bazire slept below. In the kitchen 
 of the chateau, destined for our service, were Turgy, 
 Chretien, and Marchand, men long attached to the king's 
 household, who brought the dishes for our meals to the 
 Tower. 
 
 The next day my father came to breakfast at nine o'clock 
 in my mother's room, and afterwards we all went together 
 to look over the Tower, because they wanted to make bed- 
 chambers of the great rooms. We returned to dine on the 
 first floor in a room adjoining the library. After dinner, 
 Manuel and Santerre commander of the National Guard, 
 came to the Tower, and my father went to walk with them in 
 the garden. On our arrival the previous day they had de- 
 manded the departure of the women who were in our ser- 
 vice, and we even found new women chosen by Potion 
 waiting to serve us, but they were not accepted. The day 
 but one after, during our dinner, they brought us a decree 
 
1792-1793] NARRATIVE OF MADAME ROYALE. 245 
 
 of the Commune ordering that our women and even the 
 ladle's should be removed. My father opposed this vehe- 
 mently and so did the municipal guards, which annoyed 
 those who had brought the order. We were each asked 
 privately if we did not wish for others ; on which, having 
 all responded no, things remained as they were. 
 
 From this time we were busy in regulating our hours. 
 We passed the whole day together; my father taught my 
 brother geography and history ; my mother made him learn 
 and recite verses ; my aunt taught him arithmetic. Eor- 
 tiinately there was a Library adjoining our apartments [that 
 of the guard of the Archives of Malta], where my father 
 found an agreeable diversion ; my mother, my aunt, and I 
 often did worsted-work. 
 
 My father asked for a man and woman to do the rough 
 work, and a few days later they sent a man named Tison 
 and his wife. The guards became daily more uncivil and 
 insolent, and they never left us one instant alone, either 
 when we were together or separate. Mme. de Lamballe was 
 allowed to write to the outside and ask for the things she 
 needed, but always in open letters read by the municipals. 
 At last, during the night of the 19th and 20 th of August, 
 they brought and read in all our rooms a decree of the 
 Commune removing from the Tower all persons who were 
 not of the royal family. They ordered Mme. de Lamballe to 
 rise. My mother tried to oppose it by urging that she was 
 her relative, but in vain ; they replied that they had orders 
 to take her away and question her. Obliged to submit, we 
 all rose, with death in our hearts, to bid these ladies fare- 
 well [an eternal farewell to the Princesse de Lamballe, and 
 it seemed as if we had a presentiment of her horrible fate. 
 MM. de Chamilly and Hue were also taken away] ; our 
 waiting-women were prevented from taking leave of us. 
 
246 MADAME :feLISABETH DE FRANCE. [1792-1793 
 
 Every one having gone, my brother was left alone in his 
 room, and they brought him, still asleep, into that of my 
 mother where two municipals were on guard. Unable to go 
 to sleep again, even my brother who was awakened by the 
 noise, we passed the night together; my father, though 
 awakened, remained in his room with a municipal. The 
 men who took away the ladies assured us they would return 
 after their examination, but we learned the next day that 
 they had been taken to the prison of La Force. M. Hue, 
 however, returned at nine o'clock the next morning; the 
 Council, having judged him innocent, sent him back to the 
 Temple. 
 
 My mother, left thus alone, took charge of my brother, who 
 slept in her room ; I went to occupy the billiard-room with 
 my aunt, and the municipal kept himself during the day in 
 the queen's room and at night with the sentinel in the little 
 room between us. My father remained above, where he 
 slept ; we went up to breakfast with him while they cleaned 
 my mother's chamber, after which my father came down and 
 spent the entire day with us. 
 
 The 24th, towards one in the morning, they came to 
 search my father's room under pretence of looking for arms, 
 and they took away his sword. The next day, the day of 
 Saint-Louis, they shouted the " (ya ira " close by the Temple. 
 We then heard that M. de la Fayette [having ended his 
 r5le], had abandoned the'army and quitted France, which news 
 was confirmed to my father that evening by Manuel, who at 
 the same time brought a letter, which had been opened, to 
 my Aunt Elisabeth from my great-aimts in Eome ; this was 
 the last that my family received from without. Not only was 
 my father no longer treated as king, but he was not even 
 treated with simple respect ; he was not called Sire or Your 
 Majesty, but merely Monsieur, or Louis ; the municipal guards 
 
1792-1793] NARRATIVE OF MADAME ROYALE. 247 
 
 sat down in his room, their hats on their heads. It was then 
 that Pdtion sent Cl^ry for the service of my brother, to which 
 he already belonged ; and he installed as jailers or turnkeys 
 of the Tower two men named Eisbey and Eocher. The 
 latter was the horrible man who on the 20th of June had 
 forced my father's door and tried to kill him. This monster 
 roamed around us continually with dreadful glances; he 
 never ceased torturing my father in every possible way ; 
 sometimes he sang the Carmagnole, and other such horrors ; 
 at other times he puffed the smoke of his pipe into my 
 father's face as he passed, knowing that he disliked the smell 
 of it ; at night when we went to supper, as we were obliged 
 to pass through his room, he was always in his bed, and 
 sometimes he would be there at our dinner hour, pretending 
 to sleep ; in short there was no kind of insult and insolence 
 he did not invent to torment us. 
 
 Meantime the king lacked everything ; he therefore wrote 
 to Potion to obtain the money which was intended for him ; 
 but he received no answer and our discomforts were multi- 
 plied daily. The garden, the only place where my father 
 could take the air, was full of workmen, who insulted us to 
 such a point that one of them boasted he would knock 
 off my mother's head, but Potion had him arrested. Even at 
 the windows on the street which looked into the garden, 
 people came expressly to insult us. On the 2d of September, 
 as we were walking there towards four in the afternoon, not 
 knowing what was going on outside, a woman stood at one 
 of those windows who loaded my father with insults and 
 dared to assail him with stones which fell beside him ; an- 
 other of those windows offered us at the same moment a 
 very touching contrast. How precious to the unfortunate is 
 a mark of interest ! A woman, not less feeling than coura- 
 geous, having written on a large card the news of the taking 
 
248 MADAME :feLISABETH DE FEANCE. [1792-1793 
 
 of Yerdun by the coalition army, held it towards us at a 
 window long enough for us to read it, which my aunt did 
 without the municipals perceiving it. 
 
 We had hardly rejoiced at the news when a new munici- 
 pal arrived, named Matthieu [a former capuchin monk]. In- 
 flamed with anger he came to my father and told him to 
 follow him, which we all did, fearing that they meant to 
 separate us. Going upstairs we met M. Hue, and Matthieu 
 told him he arrested him ; . . . then, turning to my father, he 
 said all that fury could suggest, and especially these words : 
 " The generate is beaten, the cannon of warning is fired, the 
 tocsin is sounding, the enemies are at Verdun, if they come 
 we shall all perish, but you the first." My father listened to 
 his threats firmly, with the calm of innocence, but my 
 brother, terrified, burst into tears and ran into the next room, 
 where I followed him and did my best to console him, but 
 in vain ; he imagined he saw my father dead. Meantime, 
 M. Hue having returned, Matthieu, continuing his insults, 
 took him away with him and shut him up in the prison of 
 the Mairie, instead of that of the Abbaye where he was to 
 have gone, but the massacre of that day had already begun 
 there . . . We heard that in the end he was set at liberty, 
 but he never returned to the Temple. 
 
 The municipals all condemned the violent conduct of Mat- 
 thieu, but they did not do better. They told my father they 
 were certain the King of Prussia was on the march and kill- 
 ing all Frenchmen by an order signed Louis. There were 
 no calumnies they did not invent, even the most ridiculous 
 and the most incredible. My mother, who could not sleep, 
 heard the generale beaten all night. 
 
 September 3d at eight in the morning, Manuel came to 
 see my father, and assured him that Mme. de Lamballe and 
 the other persons taken from the Temple were well and all 
 
1792-1793] NAERATIVE OF MADAME ROYALE. 249 
 
 together, tranquilly, in La Force. At three in the afternoon 
 we heard dreadful outcries ; my father left the dinner-table 
 and played backgammon with my mother, to control his 
 countenance and be able to say a few words to her without 
 being heard. The municipal guard in the room behaved well ; 
 he closed the door and window, also the curtains, so that they 
 might see nothing. The workmen at the Temple and the jailer 
 Eocher joined the murderers, which increased the noise. 
 Several officers of the National Guard and some municipals 
 arrived ; the first desired that my father should show himself 
 at the window. The municipals fortunately opposed this ; but 
 my father, having asked what was happening, a young officer 
 replied : " Well, if you want to know, it is the head of Mme. 
 de Lamballe they wish to show you." My mother was 
 seized with horror ; that was the sole moment when her 
 firmness abandoned her. The municipals scolded the officer, 
 but my father, with his usual kindness, excused him, saying 
 it was not the officer's fault, but his own for having questioned 
 him. The noise lasted tUl five o'clock. 
 
 We learned that the people had tried to force the gates ; 
 that the municipals had prevented it by tying across the 
 door a tricolour scarf ; and that finally they had allowed six 
 of the murderers to enter and walk round our prison with 
 the head of Mme. de Lamballe, but on condition that they 
 left the body, which they wanted to drag round, at the gate- 
 When this deputation entered, Eocher uttered shouts of joy 
 on seeing the head of Mme. de Lamballe, and scolded a 
 young man who was taken ill, so horrified was he at the 
 sight. 
 
 The tumult was hardly over before Potion, instead of 
 exerting himself to stop the massacre, coldly sent his secre- 
 tary to my father to reckon about money. This man was 
 very ridiculous, and said many things which would have 
 
250 MADAME :feLISABETH DE FRANCE. [1792-1793 
 
 made us laugh at another moment ; he thought my mother 
 remained standing on his account ; for since that awful scene 
 she had continued standing, motionless, and seeing nothing 
 that took place in the room. The municipal guard who had 
 sacrificed his scarf at the door made my father pay for it. 
 My aunt and I heard the generale beaten all night; my 
 unhappy mother did not even try to sleep ; we listened to 
 her sobs. We did not suppose that the massacre was still 
 going on ; it was not until some time later that we learned 
 it had lasted three days. 
 
 It is impossible to give all the scenes that took place, as 
 much on the part of the municipals as on that of the National 
 Guard ; everything alarmed them, so guilty did they feel 
 themselves. Once, during supper, there was a cry to arms ; it 
 was thought that the foreigners were arriving ; the horrible 
 Eocher took a sabre and said to my father, " If they come 
 I will kill you." It was only some trouble with the patrols. 
 Their severity increased daily. Nevertheless, we found two 
 municipals who softened the misery of my parents by show- 
 ing them kind feeling and giving them hope. I fear they 
 are dead. There was also a sentinel who had a conversation 
 with my aunt through the keyhole. That unfortunate man 
 wept all the time he was near us in the Temple. I know 
 not what became of him ; may heaven have rewarded his 
 attachment to his king. 
 
 When I took lessons and my mother prepared extracts for 
 me, a municipal was always there, looking over my shoulder, 
 believing that there must be conspiracy. The newspapers 
 were not allowed us for fear we should know the foreign 
 news ; but one day they brought a copy to my father telling 
 him he would find something interesting in it. Oh, horror ! 
 he there read that they would make a cannon-ball of his 
 head. The calm and contemptuous silence of my father 
 
1792-1793] NAKRATIVE OF MADAME EOYALE. 251 
 
 damped the joy they had shown in bringing him that infernal 
 writing. One evening a municipal, on arriving, uttered many 
 threats and insults, and repeated what we had already heard, 
 that we should all perish if the enemy approached Paris ; 
 he added that my brother alone caused him pity, but, being 
 the son of a tyrant, he must die. Such were the scenes that 
 my family had to bear daily. 
 
 The Kepublic was established September 22, they told us 
 joyfully ; they also told us of the departure of the foreign 
 army ; we could not believe it, but it was true. 
 
 At the beginning of October, they took away from us 
 pens, paper, ink, and pencils ; they searched everywhere, and 
 even harshly. This did not prevent my mother and me from 
 hiding our pencils, which we kept ; my father and aunt gave 
 up theirs. The evening of the same day, as my father was 
 finishing supper, they told him to wait ; that he was going into 
 another lodging in the Great Tower, and would in future be 
 separated from us. At this dreadful news my mother lost her 
 usual courage and firmness. We parted from him with many 
 tears, still hoping, however, to see him again. The next day 
 they brought our breakfast separately from his ; my mother 
 would eat nothing. The municipals, frightened and troubled 
 by her gloomy grief, allowed us to see my father, but only at 
 meals, forbidding us to speak in low tones or in foreign 
 languages, but " aloud and in good French." We then went 
 to dine with my father in great joy at seeing him again ; but 
 a municipal was there who perceived that my aunt spoke 
 low to my father, and he made her a scene. At night, my 
 brother being in bed, either my mother or my aunt stayed 
 with him, while the other went with me to sup with my father. 
 In the mornings we stayed with him after breakfast long 
 enough for Cl^ry to comb our hair, because he was not 
 allowed to come to my mother's room, and this gave us a 
 
252 MADAME I:LISABETH DE ERANCE. [1792-1793 
 
 short time longer to be with my father. We went to walk 
 together daily at midday. 
 
 Manuel came to see my father and took away from him 
 harshly his cordon rouge (order of Saint-Louis), and assured 
 him that none of those who had been at the Temple, except- 
 ing Mme. de Lamballe, had perished. He made Cl^ry, 
 Tison, and his wife take an oath to be faithful to the nation. 
 A mimicipal, coming in one evening, woke my brother roughly 
 to see if he was there ; this was the only moment of anger 
 which I saw my mother show. Another municipal told my 
 mother that it was not Petion's purpose to have my father 
 die, but to shut him up for life with my brother in the castle 
 of Chambord. I do not know what object that man had m. 
 giving us this information ; we never saw him again. My 
 mother was now lodged on the floor above my father's apart- 
 ment in the great Tower, and my brother slept in my father's 
 chamber, also Clery and a municipal guard. The windows 
 were secured by iron bars and shutters ; the chimneys smoked 
 much. 
 
 Here is how the days of my parents were passed. My 
 father rose at seven o'clock and prayed to God till eight. 
 Then he dressed, and so did my brother, till nine, when 
 they came to breakfast with my mother. After breakfast, 
 my father gave my brother lessons imtil eleven o'clock; 
 the latter played till midday, when we all went to walk 
 together, no matter what the weather was, because the 
 guard, which was changed at that hour, wished to see us 
 and be certain of our presence in the Tower; the walk 
 lasted till two o'clock, when we dined. After dinner my 
 father and mother played backgammon or piquet, or, to 
 speak more correctly, pretended to play so as to be able to 
 say a few words to each other. At four o'clock my mother 
 went up with us to her own room and took my brother, 
 
1792-1793] NARRATIVE OF MADAME ROYALE. 253 
 
 "because the king usually went to sleep at that hour. At 
 six my brother went down. My father made him study 
 and play till supper-time. At nine o'clock, after that meal, 
 my mother undressed him quickly and put him to bed. 
 We went up then to our room, but the king did not go to 
 bed till eleven o'clock. My mother did a great deal of 
 tapestry-work, and made me study and often read aloud. 
 My aunt prayed to God ; she read many books of piety ; 
 often the queen begged her to read them aloud. 
 
 The newspapers were now returned to us in order that 
 we might see the departure of the foreigners and read the 
 horrors about the king of which they were full. A muni- 
 cipal said to us one day: "Mesdames, I announce to you 
 good news ; many of the emigres, those traitors, have been 
 taken; if you are patriots you will rejoice." My mother, 
 as usual, said not a word and did not even seem to hear 
 him ; often her contemptuous calmness and her dignified 
 bearing awed these men ; it was rarely to her that they 
 addressed themselves. 
 
 The Convention came for the first time to see the king. 
 The members who composed the deputation asked him if 
 he had any complaints to make; he said no, he was sat- 
 isfied, so long as he was with his family. Clery complained 
 that they did not pay the dealers who provided for the 
 Temple. Chabot answered : " La nation n'est pas a un ^cu 
 pr^s." The deputies present were Chabot, Dupont, Drouet, 
 and Lecointe-Puyraveau. They came back, after dinner, 
 and asked the same questions. The next day Drouet came 
 back alone and asked the queen if she had any complaints 
 to make. My mother made him no answer. Some days 
 later, as we were at dinner, the guards threw themselves 
 roughly on Cldry and ordered him to follow them to the 
 tribunal. Not long before, Cldry, coming down the staircase 
 
254 MADAME :feLISABETH DE FRANCE. [1792-1793 
 
 witli a municipal, met a young man of his acquaintance who 
 was on guard ; they said good-day to each other and shook 
 hands ; the municipal thought that wrong and arrested the 
 young man. It was to appear with him before the tribunal 
 that Cl^ry was now taken. My father asked that he should 
 return ; the municipals assured him that he would not re- 
 turn ; nevertheless he was back at midnight. He asked the 
 king's pardon for his past conduct, which my father's man- 
 ner, the exhortations of my aunt, and the sufferings of my 
 relations made him change ; after that he was very faithful. 
 
 My father fell ill with a heavy cold ; they granted him a 
 doctor and his apothecary. The Commune was uneasy ; it 
 had bulletins every day of his health, which was soon re- 
 established. The whole family were ill of this cold; but 
 my father was more ill than the rest. 
 
 The Commune changed on the 2d of December. The 
 new municipals came to inspect my father and his family 
 at ten o'clock at night. Some days later they issued an 
 order to turn Tison and Cl^ry out of our apartments and 
 to take away from us knives, scissors, and all sharp in- 
 struments; they also ordered that our dishes should be 
 tasted before they were served to us. The search was made 
 for the sharp instruments, and my mother and I gave up 
 our scissors. 
 
 December 11th we were made very anxious by the 
 beating of drums and the arrival of a guard at the Temple. 
 My father came with my brother to breakfast. At eleven 
 o'clock Chambon and Chaumette, one the mayor, the other 
 the public prosecutor of the Commune of Paris, and Colom- 
 beau their clerk, went to my father's apartment. There they 
 informed him of a decree of the Convention which ordered 
 him to be brought to its bar to be interrogated. They re- 
 quested him to send my brother to my mother; but not 
 
1792-1793] NARRATIVE OF MADAME ROYALE. 255 
 
 having with them the decree of the Convention, they kept 
 my father waiting two hours, so that he did not start till 
 one ■ o'clock, in the mayor's carriage, with Chaumette and 
 Colombeau; the carriage was escorted by municipals on 
 foot. My father observing that Colombeau bowed to many 
 persons, asked him if they were all his friends; to which 
 he answered : " They are the brave citizens of August 10th, 
 whom I never see without joy." 
 
 I shall not speak of my father's conduct before the Con- 
 vention ; all the world knows it ; his firmness, his gentle- 
 ness, his kindness, his courage, amid assassins thirsting for 
 his blood, are traits which will never be forgotten and which 
 the most remote posterity will admire. 
 
 The king returned at six o'clock to the Tower of the 
 Temple. We had been in a state of anxiety which it is 
 impossible to express. My mother made every effort with 
 the municipals who guarded her to learn what was happen- 
 ing ; it was the first time that she deigned to question them. 
 These men would tell her nothing, and it was only after my 
 father's return that we heard the facts. As soon as he had 
 returned she asked urgently to see him ; she even sent to 
 Chambon to ask it, but received no reply. My brother 
 spent the night in her room ; he had no bed, she gave him 
 hers and remained up all night in a gloom so great that we 
 did not like to leave her, but she forced us to go to bed, my 
 aunt and me. The next day she again asked to see my father 
 and to read the journals to learn about his trial; she in- 
 sisted that at least, if she might not see my father, permis- 
 sion should be granted to my brother and me. This request 
 was taken to the Council general ; the newspapers were re- 
 fused ; they permitted my brother and me to see my father, 
 but only on condition that we should be absolutely sepa- 
 rated from my mother. They informed my father of this, 
 
256 MADAME :feLISABETH DE FRANCE. [1792-1793 
 
 and lie said that, however great his pleasure might be in 
 seeing his children, the great business in which he was 
 now engaged would not allow him to occupy himself 
 with his son, and that his daughter must not leave her 
 mother. They then brought my brother's bed into my 
 mother's room. 
 
 The Convention came to see my father; he asked for 
 counsel, ink, paper, and razors with which to shave ; all of 
 which were granted to him. MM. de Malesherbes, Tronchet, 
 and Desfeze, his counsel, came to him ; he was often obliged, 
 in order to speak to them without being heard, to go with 
 them into the little tourelle. He no longer went into the 
 garden, neither did we ; he heard no news of us, nor we of 
 him, unless through the municipals, and then with difficulty. 
 I had trouble in my foot, and my father, hearing of it, 
 grieved about it with his customary kindness, and inquired 
 carefully about my condition. My family found in this 
 Commune a few charitable men, who, by their kind feeling, 
 soothed our torture ; they assured my mother that my father 
 would not be put to death, that his case would be sent to 
 the primary assemblies, which would certainly save him. 
 Alas ! they deceived themselves, or from pity endeavoured 
 to deceive my mother. On the 26th of December, Saint- 
 Stephen's day, my father made his will, because he expected 
 to be murdered that day on his way to the bar of the Con- 
 vention. He went there, nevertheless, with his usual calm- 
 ness, and left to M. Desfeze the care of his defence. He 
 went at eleven and returned at three o'clock. 
 
 On the 18th of January, 1793, the day on which the ver- 
 dict was given, the municipals entered the king's room at 
 eleven o'clock, saying they had orders not to let him out 
 of sight. He asked if his fate were decided ; they an- 
 swered no. The next morning M. de Malesherbes came to 
 
1792-1793] NARRATIVE OF MADAME ROYALE. 257 
 
 tell him that his sentence was pronounced. " But, sire," he 
 added, " those wretches are not yet masters ; all honest men 
 will now come forward to save Your Majesty or perish at 
 your feet." "M. de Malesherbes," said my father, " that would 
 compromise many persons and bring civil war into France. 
 I would rather die. I beg you to order them from me to 
 make no movement to save me ; the king does not die in 
 France." After this last conference he was not allowed to 
 see his counsel ; he gave the municipals a note asking to see 
 them, and complaining of the restraint he was under in 
 being watched incessantly ; no attention was paid to this. 
 
 Sunday, January 20, Garat, minister of justice, came to 
 notify him that his sentence of death would be executed on 
 the morrow ; my father listened with courage and religion. 
 He asked a respite of three days, to know what would be- 
 come of his family, and to obtain a Catholic confessor. The 
 respite was refused. Garat assured my father that there was 
 no charge against his family and they would all be sent out of 
 the country. He asked for a confessor, the Abbd Edgeworth 
 de Firmont, whose address he gave. Garat brought him. 
 The king dined as usual, which surprised the municipals, 
 who expected that he would wish to kill himself. 
 
 We learned the sentence pronounced upon my father on 
 that Sunday, the 20th, from the news criers, who came to 
 shout it under our windows. At seven in the evening, a 
 decree of the Convention arrived, permitting us to go to my 
 father ; we hurried there and found him much changed. He 
 wept for sorrow over us, and not from fear of death; he 
 related his trial to my mother, excusing the wretches who 
 caused his death ; he told her that it was proposed to appeal 
 to the primary assemblies, but he opposed it, because that 
 measure would bring trouble into the State. He then gave 
 religious instruction to my brother, told him above all to 
 
 17 
 
258 MADAME :ELISABETH DE FRANCE. [1792-1793 
 
 pardon those who were putting him to death, and gave him 
 his blessing ; also to me. My mother ardently desired that 
 we should pass the night with him ; he refused, making her 
 feel that he had need of tranquillity. She begged him at 
 least to let us come the next morning ; he granted that to 
 her ; but as soon as we were gone he told the guard not to 
 let us come again, because our presence pained him too 
 much. He remained after that with his confessor, went to 
 bed at midnight, and slept till five o'clock, when he was 
 wakened by the drums. At six o'clock, the Abbe Edgeworth 
 said mass, at which my father took the Communion. 
 
 He started about nine o'clock ; as he went down the stair- 
 way he gave his will to a municipal ; he also gave him a sum 
 of money which M. de Malesherbes had brought to him, and 
 requested the man to return it ; but the municipals kept it 
 for themselves. He next met a jailer, whom he had reproved 
 rather sharply the evening before, and said to him : " Mat- 
 thieu, I am sorry to have hurt you." He read the prayers 
 for the dying on the way. Arriving at the scaffold, he wished 
 to speak to the people, but Santerre prevented it by making 
 the drums beat ; the few words he was able to say were heard 
 by a few persons only. He then removed his clothing him- 
 self, his hands were bound by his own handkerchief, and not 
 with, a rope. At the moment when he was about to die the 
 abb^ said to him : Fils de Saint-Louis, montez au del — " Son 
 of Saint-Louis, ascend to heaven." 
 
 He received the death-blow at ten minutes past ten in the 
 morning of January 21, 1793. Thus perished Louis XVI. 
 King of France, aged thirty-nine years, five months, and 
 three days, having reigned eighteen years. He had been in 
 prison five months and eight days. 
 
 Such was the life of the king, my father, during his 
 rigorous captivity, in which nothing was seen but piety, 
 
1793] NARRATIVE OF MADAME ROYALE. 259 
 
 grandeur of soul, kindness, gentleness, courage, patience in 
 supporting the most infamous treatment, the most horrible 
 calumnies ; mercy in pardoning with all his heart his mur- 
 derers ; love of God, of his family, of his people — a love of 
 which he gave proofs with his last breath and for which he 
 has gone to receive his reward in the bosom of an all-power- 
 ful and merciful God. 
 
 Life in the Tower of the Temple from the Death of Louis 
 XVL. to that of the Queen, October 16, 1793. 
 
 The morning of that terrible day [of the king's death] 
 we rose at six o'clock. The evening before my mother had 
 scarcely strength enough to undress my brother and put 
 him to bed ; she then threw herself, dressed as she was, 
 upon her bed, and we heard her through the night trembling 
 with cold and sorrow. At a quarter past six they opened 
 our door to look for a prayer-book for my father's mass; 
 we thought we were to go to him, and we still had that 
 hope imtil the cries of joy of a frenzied populace came to 
 inform us that the crime was consummated. In the after- 
 noon my mother asked to see Cl^ry, who was with my 
 father to his last moments, thinking that perhaps he had 
 charged him with messages for her. We desired this shock, 
 in order to cause an outflow of her gloomy sorrow and re- 
 lieve the suffocated condition in which we saw her. My 
 father had, in fact, ordered Clery to return to my unhappy 
 mother his wedding-ring, adding that he parted from it 
 only in parting with life ; he also gave him a packet of my 
 mother's hair and ours, saying they had been so dear to him 
 that he had kept them till the last instant. The municipals 
 informed us that Cl^ry was in a dreadful state, and in de- 
 spair because they refused to let him see us. My mother 
 
260 MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE. [1793 
 
 charged them to make her request to the council general ; 
 she also asked for mourning clothes. Cl^ry passed another 
 month in the Temple and was then discharged. 
 
 We now had a little more liberty, the guards thinking 
 we were about to be sent away. But nothing was able to 
 calm the anguish of my mother; we could make no hope 
 of any sort enter her heart ; she was indifferent whether 
 she lived or died. She looked at us sometimes with a pity 
 that made us shudder. Happily, grief increased my illness, 
 and that occupied her. My own doctor, Brunier, and the 
 surgeon La Caze were brought, and they cured me in a 
 month.i 
 
 We were allowed to see the persons who brought our 
 mourning, but only in presence of the municipals. My 
 mother would no longer go down into the garden, because 
 that obliged her to pass the door of my father's room, which 
 pained her too much ; but fearing that want of air might 
 harm my brother and myself, she asked, in February, to go 
 up upon the Tower, which was granted to her. 
 
 It was discovered that a sealed package in the room of 
 the municipals, which contained the king's seal, his ring, 
 and several other things, had been opened, the seals broken, 
 and the contents carried away. The municipals were very 
 uneasy; but finally they believed it had been done by a 
 thief who knew that the seal with the arms of France was 
 set in gold. The person who took those things was rightly 
 intentioned; he was not a thief; he did it for the right, 
 because my mother wished the seal and ring to be saved 
 for her son. I know who that brave man was ; but alas ! 
 he is dead, not because of this affair, but in consequence of 
 
 1 The close air and confinement had produced boils which covered the 
 ■whole body of la petite Madame as she was called. Soon after her father's 
 death she came near dying, and a rumour of her death was generally 
 believed. — Tr. 
 
1793] NARRATIVE OF MADAME ROYALE. 261 
 
 another good action. I cannot name him, hoping that he 
 may have intrusted those precious objects to some one 
 else before he perished.^ 
 
 Dumouriez having left France, our imprisonment became 
 more restricted. They built a wall which separated us 
 from the garden ; they put shutters to the top of the Tower ; 
 and plugged all holes with care. On the 25th of March 
 the chimney caught fire. That evening Chaumette, prose- 
 cutor of the Commune, came for the first time to see my 
 mother, and he asked her if she desired anything. My 
 mother asked only for a door of communication between her 
 room and that of my aunt. (The two terrible nights we 
 had passed in her room we had slept, my aunt and I, on 
 one of her mattresses placed on the floor.) The municipals 
 opposed that request; but Chaumette said that in my 
 mother's feeble state it might be necessary for her health, 
 and he would speak of it to the Council general. The next 
 day he came back at ten in the morning with Pache, the 
 mayor, and that dreadful Santerre, commander of the Na- 
 tional Guard. Chaumette told my mother he had spoken to 
 the Council of her request for a door, which was refused. 
 She made no answer. Pache asked her if she had any 
 complaints to make. My mother said, " No," and paid no 
 further heed to him. 
 
 Some time later we found certain municipal guards who 
 soothed our griefs a little by their kind feeling. We knew 
 after a while, those with whom we had to do; especially 
 my mother, who saved us several times from trusting to a 
 false show of interest. There was also another man who 
 
 1 The man was one of the municipals, named Toulan, who gave the 
 seal and ring to Turgy, who took them to Monsieur, afterwards Louis 
 XVIII. (See Appendix V.) Toulan was one of the nine municipals 
 guillotined soon after the queen, for having conspired to help her. 
 — Tr. 
 
262 MADAME Elisabeth de France. [1793 
 
 did services to my family. I know all those who took an 
 interest in us ; I do not name them, for fear of compromis- 
 ing them as things now are, but the recollection of them 
 is graven on my heart ; and if I can never show them my 
 gratitude, God will reward them ; but if the day comes 
 when I can name them they will be loved and esteemed 
 by all virtuous persons.^ 
 
 Precautions redoubled ; Tison was not allowed to see his 
 daughter, and he became ill-tempered. One evening a per- 
 son brought some articles for my aimt ; he was angry that 
 this man should be allowed to enter, and not his daughter ; 
 he said things which led Pache, who was below, to send for 
 him. They asked him why he was so displeased. " At not 
 seeing my daughter," he replied, " and because some of these 
 municipals are behaving badly." (He had seen them speak- 
 ing low to my mother and aunt.) They asked their names ; 
 he gave them, and declared that we had correspondence with 
 the outside. To furnish proofs he said that one day my 
 mother, on taking out her handkerchief, had let fall a pencil ; 
 and another day he had found wafers and a pen in a box in 
 my aunt's room. After this denunciation, which he signed, 
 they sent for his wife, who repeated the same thing ; she 
 accused several of the municipals, declared that we had had 
 correspondence with my father during his trial, and de- 
 nounced my doctor, Brunier (who treated me for trouble in 
 my foot), for having brought us news. She signed all that, 
 being led away by her husband; but, in the end, she had 
 great remorse for it. That denunciation was made April 19 ; 
 the next day she saw her daughter. 
 
 On the 20th, at half-past ten at night, my mother and I 
 had just gone to bed when Hebert arrived with several other 
 
 1 These men were Toulan, Lepitre, Beugneau, Vincent, Bruno, Micho- 
 nis, and Merle. — Fk. Ed. 
 
1793] NARRATIVE OF MADAME ROYALS. 263 
 
 municipals ; we rose hastily. They read us a decree of 
 the Convention ordering that we be carefully searched, 
 even to the mattresses. My poor brother was asleep; 
 they pulled him roughly out of his bed, to search it; my 
 mother held him, all shivering with cold. They took from 
 my mother the address of a shop she had always kept, 
 a stick of sealing-wax from my aunt, and from me a Sacred 
 Heart of Jesus and a prayer for France. Their search did 
 not end till four in the morning. They wrote a proces-verbal 
 of all they found, and obliged my mother and aunt to sign it, 
 threatening to carry us off, my brother and me, if they refused. 
 They were furious at having found nothing but trifles. 
 Three days later they returned, and demanded to see my 
 aunt in private. They then questioned her on a hat they 
 had found in her room; they wished to know whence it 
 came, and how long she had had it, and why she had kept it. 
 She answered that it had belonged to my father at the be- 
 ginning of his imprisonment in the Temple ; that she had 
 asked for it, to preserve it for love of her brother. The muni- 
 cipals said they should take it away as a suspicious thing ; 
 my aunt insisted on keeping it, but was not allowed to do 
 so. They forced her to sign her answer and they carried 
 away the hat. 
 
 Every day my mother went up on the Tower to have us 
 take the air. For some time past my brother had complained 
 of a stitch in his side [jpoint de coW]. May 6th, at seven in 
 the evening, a rather strong fever seized him, with headache 
 and the pain in his side. At first he could not lie down, for 
 it suffocated him. My mother was uneasy and asked the 
 municipals for a doctor. They assured her the illness was 
 nothing and that her motherly tenderness was needlessly 
 frightened. Nevertheless, they spoke to the Council and 
 asked in my mother's name for Dr. Brunier, The Council 
 
264 MADAME :ELISABETH DE FRANCE. [1793 
 
 laughed at my brother's illness, because Hdbert had seen 
 him five hours earlier without fever. They positively refused 
 Brunier, whom Tison had recently denounced. Nevertheless, 
 the fever became very strong. My aunt had the goodness to 
 take my place in my mother's room, that I might not sleep in 
 a fever atmosphere, and also that she might assist in nursing 
 my brother; she took my bed, and I went to hers. The 
 fever lasted several days, the attacks being worse at 
 night. 
 
 Though my mother asked for a doctor, it was several days 
 before her request was granted. At last, on a Sunday, Thierry, 
 the physician of prisons, was appointed by the Commune to 
 take care of my brother. As he came in the morning he 
 found little fever, but my mother asked him to return in the 
 afternoon, when he found it very high, and he disabused the 
 municipals of the idea they had that my mother was anxious 
 about nothing ; he told them that, on the contrary, the 
 matter was more serious than she thought. He had the 
 kindness to go and consult Brunier about my brother's illness 
 and the remedies that should be given to him, because 
 Brunier knew his constitution, he being our physician from 
 infancy. He gave him some remedies, which did him good. 
 Wednesday, he made him take medicine, and that night I 
 returned to sleep in my mother's room. She felt much un- 
 easiness on account of that medicine, because the last time 
 that my brother had been purged he had frightful convul- 
 sions and she feared he might have them again. She did 
 not sleep all night. My brother, however, took his medicine, 
 and it did him good without causing him any accidents. He 
 still had attacks of fever from time to time and the stitch in 
 his side continued. His health began from this time to 
 change, and it was never restored ; the want of air and ex- 
 ercise did him much harm, also the sort of life the poor 
 
1793] 
 
 NAKRATIVE OF MADAME KOYALE. 265 
 
 child lived, in the midst of tears and shocks, alarm and con- 
 tinual terrors, at eight years of age. 
 
 May 31st we heard the gmerale beaten and the tocsin 
 rung, but no one would tell us the cause of the uproar. The 
 guards were forbidden to let us go up on the Tower to take 
 the air ; an order always given when Paris was in disturb- 
 ance. At the beginning of June, Chaumette came with 
 Hubert and asked my mother if she desired anything. She 
 answered no, and paid no further attention to them. My aunt 
 asked Hubert for my father's hat which he had taken away ; 
 he replied that the Council general did not see fit to return 
 it to her. My aunt, seeing that Chaumette did not go away, 
 and knowing how much my mother suffered inwardly from 
 his presence, asked him why he had come and why he re- 
 mained. He answered that he visited all the prisons, they 
 were all equal, and therefore he came to the Temple. My 
 aunt replied no, because, in some, persons were justly im- 
 prisoned, and others unjustly. Chaumette and Hubert were 
 both drunk. 
 
 Mme. Tison became insane; she was anxious about my 
 brother's illness and had long been tortured by remorse ; she 
 languished and would not take the air. One day she began 
 to talk to herself. Alas ! it made me laugh, and my poor 
 mother, also my aunt, looked at me with satisfaction, as if my 
 laughter did them good. But Mme. Tison's insanity increased ; 
 she talked aloud of her wrong-doings, of her denunciations, 
 of the prison, of the scaffold, of the queen, of her own family, 
 and of our sorrows ; admitting that because of her bad deeds 
 she was unworthy to approach my family. She thought that 
 those whom she had denounced had perished. Every day 
 she watched for the municipals whom she had accused ; not 
 seeing them she went to bed gloomy ; there she had frightful 
 dreams and uttered cries, which we heard. The municipals 
 
266 MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE. [1793 
 
 allowed her to see lier daughter, whom she loved. One day 
 the porter, who did not know of this permission, refused 
 entrance to the daughter. The mimicipals, finding the mother 
 desperate, sent for her at ten at night. That late hour 
 alarmed the woman still more ; she was very unwilling to 
 go down, and said to her husband : " They are going to take 
 us to prison." She saw her daughter, but could not recognize 
 her. She went back with a municipal, but on the middle of 
 the stairway she would neither go up nor down. The mu- 
 nicipal alarmed, called others to make her go up; when 
 there, she would not go to bed, but talked and shouted, which 
 prevented my family from sleeping. The next day, the doc- 
 tor saw her and found her quite mad. She was always on 
 her knees to my mother, begging her forgiveness. It is im- 
 possible to have more pity than my mother and my aunt had 
 for this woman, to whom assuredly they had no reason to 
 feel kindly. They took care of her and encouraged her all 
 the time she remained in the Temple in this state. They 
 tried to calm her by the sincere assurance of their pardon. 
 The next day the guards took her from the Tower and put 
 her in the chateau of the Temple, but, her madness increas- 
 ing, they removed her to the Hotel-Dieu and put a woman 
 to spy upon her and report the things she might let drop. 
 
 On the 3d of July, they read us a decree of the Conven- 
 tion ordering that my brother be separated from us and 
 lodged in a more secure room in the Tower. Hardly had he 
 heard it when he flung himself into his mother's arms uttering 
 loud cries, and imploring not to be parted from her. My 
 mother, on her side, was struck down by the cruel order ; she 
 would not give up her son, and defended, against the munici- 
 pals, the bed on which she placed him. They, absolutely 
 determined to have him, threatened to employ violence and 
 to call up the guard. My mother told them they would 
 
1793] NARRATIVE OF MADAME ROYALE. 267 
 
 have to kill her before they could tear her child from her. 
 An hour passed in resistance on her part, in threats and 
 insults from the municipals, in tears and efforts from all of 
 us. At last they threatened my mother so positively to kiH 
 him and us also that she had to yield for love of us. We 
 rose, my aunt and I, for my poor mother no longer had any 
 strength, but after we had dressed him she took him and 
 gave him into the hands of the municipals herself, bathing 
 him with tears and foreboding that she would never 
 see him again. The poor little boy kissed us all very 
 tenderly and went away in tears with the municipals. My 
 mother charged them to ask permission of the Council 
 general to let her see her son, if only at meals, and they 
 promised her to do so. She was overcome by the separation ; 
 but her anguish was at its height when she learned that 
 Simon, a shoemaker, whom she had seen as a municipal, was 
 intrusted with the care of the unfortunate child. She asked 
 incessantly to see him, but could not obtain it ; my brother, 
 on his side, wept for two whole days, never ceasing to ask to 
 see us. 
 
 The municipals no longer remained in my mother's room ; 
 we were locked in night and day and under bolts. This was 
 a comfort, as it relieved us of the presence of such persons. 
 The guards came only three times a day, to bring our meals 
 and examine the windows to make sure that the bars were 
 not cut. We had no one to wait upon us, but we liked this 
 best ; my aunt and I made the beds, and served my mother. 
 In the cabinet in the tourelle was a narrow opening through 
 which we could see my brother when he went up to the 
 battlements, and the sole pleasure my mother had was to see 
 him through that little chink as he passed in the distance. 
 She stayed there for hours, watching for the instant when she 
 could see the child ; it was her sole hope, her sole occupa- 
 
268 MADAME Elisabeth de trance. [1793 
 
 tion. She rarely heard news of him, whether from the 
 municipals or from Tison, who sometimes saw Simon, Tison, 
 to repair his past conduct, behaved better, and sometimes 
 gave news to us. 
 
 As for Simon, he maltreated my brother beyond what we 
 could have imagined, and all the more because the child 
 wept at being parted from us ; but at last he frightened 
 him so much that the poor boy dared not shed tears. My 
 aunt entreated Tison, and those who in pity gave us news of 
 him, to conceal these horrors from my mother ; she knew or 
 suspected enough. The rumour ran that my brother had 
 been seen on the boulevard ; the guards, vexed at not seeing 
 him, declared he was no longer in the Temple. Alas ! we 
 hoped this for a moment ; but the Convention ordered him 
 to be taken down into the garden that people might see him. 
 There my brother, whom they had not had time to change 
 entirely, complained of being separated from my mother, and 
 asked to see the law that ordered it ; but they made him hold 
 his tongue. The members of the Convention, who had come 
 to make certain of my brother's presence, went up to my 
 mother. She complained to them of the cruelty shown in 
 taking hex son from her ; they answered that it was thought 
 necessary to take that measure. A new prosecutor-general 
 also came to see us ; his manners astonished us, in spite of 
 all we had learned to expect from our troubles. From the 
 moment that man entered until he left he did nothing but 
 swear. 
 
 On the 2d of August, at two in the morning' they woke 
 us up to read to my mother the decree of the Convention 
 which ordered that, on the requisition of the prosecutor of the 
 Commune, she should be taken to the Conciergerie in pre- 
 paration for her trial. She listened to the reading of the 
 decree without emotion, and without saying a single word. 
 
1793] NAREATIVE OF MADAME EOYALE. 269 
 
 My aunt and I asked at once to go with my mother, but 
 this mercy was not granted to us. While she was mak- 
 ing up a parcel of her clothes the municipals never left her ; 
 she was obliged to even dress herself before them. They 
 asked for her pockets, which she gave them ; they searched 
 them and took all that was in them although there was 
 nothing of importance. They made a packet of these articles 
 and said they should send it to the revolutionary tribunal, 
 where it would be opened before her. They left her only a 
 handkerchief and a smelling-bottle, in the fear that she might 
 be taken faint. 
 
 My mother, after tenderly embracing me and telling me 
 to have courage, to take good care of my aunt, and to obey 
 her as a second mother, repeated to me the same instructions 
 that my father had given me ; then throwing herself into my 
 aunt's arms she commended her children to her. I answered 
 nothing, so terrified was I at the idea that I saw her for the 
 last time ; my aunt said a few words to her in a low voice. 
 Then my mother went away without casting her eyes upon 
 us, fearing no doubt that her firmness might abandon her. 
 She stopped once at the foot of the Tower, because the muni- 
 cipals had to make a p7vch-verhal to discharge the concierge 
 from the care of her person. As she went out, she struck 
 her head against the lintel of the door, not thinking to lower 
 it. They asked her if she was hurt. " Oh, no," she said ; 
 " nothing can hurt me now." 
 
 She was put into a carriage with a municipal and two 
 gendarmes. On reaching the Conciergerie they placed her in 
 the dirtiest, dampest, most unwholesome room in the build- 
 ing. She was kept in sight by a gendarme, who never left 
 her day or night. My aunt and I were inconsolable and we 
 passed many days and nights in tears. They had, however, 
 assured my aunt, when my mother was taken, that no harm 
 
270 MADAME J&LISABETH DE FRANCE. [1793 
 
 would happen to her. It was a great consolation for me not 
 to be parted from my aimt, whom I loved much ; but alas ! 
 all is now changed, and I have lost her too ! 
 
 The day after my mother's departure, my aunt asked urg- 
 ently, in her name and mine, to be reunited with her ; but 
 she could not obtaia it, nor even get any news of her. As 
 my mother, who never drank anything but water, could not 
 endure that of the Seine, which made her ill, we begged the 
 municipals to send her that of Ville d'Avray, which was 
 brought daily past the Temple. They consented, and got a 
 decree in consequence ; but another of their colleagues arrived 
 just then and opposed it. A few days later, my mother, in 
 order to get news of us, tried to send for some necessary 
 articles, among others her knitting, for she had begun a pair 
 of stockings for my brother. We sent it, together with all 
 we could find of silks and wools, for we knew how she liked 
 to be busy; she had a habit in former days of always 
 being at work, except in her hours of public appearance. 
 In this way, she had covered a vast quantity of furniture 
 and had even made a carpet and a great deal of coarse-wool 
 knitting of all kinds. We therefore collected all we could ; 
 but we learned afterwards that nothing had been given to 
 her, fearing, they said, that she might do herself a harm 
 with the knitting-needles. 
 
 Sometimes we heard news of my brother from the muni- 
 cipals ; but that did not last long. We could hear him 
 every day singing, with Simon, the Carmagnole, the air of 
 the Marseillais, and other horrors. Simon made him wear 
 the bonnet rouge, and a carmagnole, and sing at the windows 
 to be heard by the Garde ; he taught him to swear dread- 
 ful oaths against Grod, his family, and aristocrats. My 
 mother, happily, did not hear these horrors ; oh ! my God, 
 what harm they would have done her ! Before her depart- 
 
1793] NAREATIVE OF MADAME ROYALE. 271 
 
 me, they had come for my brother's clothes ; she said she 
 hoped they would not take off his mourning ; but the first 
 thing Simon did was to take away his black coat. The 
 change of life and his bad treatment made my brother ill 
 towards the end of August. Simon made him eat horribly 
 and forced him to drink much wine, which he detested. 
 All this gave him fever; he took medicine which did him 
 harm, and his health became wholly out of order. He grew 
 extremely fat but did not grow taller. Simon, however, 
 still took him on the Tower to get air. 
 
 At the beginning of September I had an illness which 
 had no other cause than my anxiety about my mother's fate. 
 I could not hear the drums without fearing another Septem- 
 ber 2d. We went up on the Tower daily. The municipals 
 paid their visits punctually three times a day; but their 
 severity did not prevent us from hearing news from without, 
 especially of my mother, which we cared for most. In spite 
 of all their efforts, we always found some good souls in whom 
 we inspired interest. We learned that my mother was accused 
 of having correspondence with the outside. Immediately we 
 threw away our writings, pencils, everything we still kept, 
 fearing that they might make us undress before Simon's wife 
 and that the things we had might compromise my mother ; 
 for we had always kept paper, ink, pens, and pencils, in spite 
 of the closest search in our rooms and furniture. We heard 
 also that my mother might have escaped, and that the wife 
 of the concierge was kind and took great care of her. 
 
 The municipals came and asked us for my mother's linen, 
 but they would give us no news of her health. They took 
 away from us the pieces of tapestry which she had worked, 
 and those on which we were then working, under pretext 
 that there might be mysterious signs in that tapestry and 
 a peculiar kind of writing. 
 
272 MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE. [1793 
 
 September 21st at one o'clock in the morning, Hubert 
 arrived with several municipals to execute a decree of the 
 Commune, which ordered that we should be more closely 
 confined, and have in future but one room ; that Tison, who 
 still did the heavy work, should be put in prison in the 
 Tower ; that we should be reduced to simple necessaries, and 
 that we should have a grating at our entrance door through 
 which our food should be passed, and finally, that no one 
 should enter our room but the bearers of wood and water. 
 This grating was not put in the door and the municipals 
 continued to enter three times a day to bring our food and 
 carefully examine the bars of our window, the closets, and 
 bureaus. We made our beds, and were obliged to sweep 
 our room, which took a long time from the little practice we 
 had of it in the beginning. We had no one now to serve 
 us. Hubert told my aunt that in the French republic 
 equality was the first law, that the prisoners in other prisons 
 had no one to serve them, and he should now take Tison 
 from us.^ 
 
 In order to treat us with still more harshness they de- 
 prived us of what were little comforts ; for example, they 
 took away the arm-chair in which my aunt always sat, and 
 many other things; we were not even allowed what was 
 necessary. We could no longer learn any news, unless from 
 the street hawkers, and then indistinctly though we listened 
 closely. They forbade us to go up on the Tower, and they 
 
 1 Turgy, in his " Historical Eragments," thus relates how the captives 
 were treated as to meals (he was on service in the kitchen and it was his 
 duty to bring up the meals) : " That day the commissioners ordered 
 us to take up the dinner as usual, but they would not let us lay the table. 
 They gave each princess a plate in which they put soup and a bit of beef, 
 and a piece of coarse bread on the side of it ; they gave them a pewter 
 spoon, an iron fork, and a black-handled knife, and a bottle of wine from 
 a tavern. The commissioners then made us serve to themselves the dinner 
 prepared for the princesses." — Er. Ed. 
 
1793] NARRATIVE OF MADAME ROYALE. 273 
 
 took away our large sheets, for fear that, in spite of the 
 bars, we might escape through the windows ; that was only 
 a pretext. They gave us, in exchange, very coarse and dirty 
 blankets. 
 
 I believe it was about that time that my mother's trial 
 began. I heard, after her death, that friends had tried to 
 rescue her from the Conciergerie. I was assured that the 
 gendarmes who guarded her and the wife of the concierge 
 had been bribed by one of our friends ; that she had seen 
 several very devoted persons in the prison, among them a 
 priest who administered to her the sacraments, which she 
 received with great piety. The opportunity to escape failed 
 once because, having been told to speak to the second guard, 
 she made a mistake and spoke to the first. Another time 
 she was out of her room and had already passed the corri- 
 dor, when a gendarme stopped her, although he was bribed, 
 and forced her to go back to her room, which defeated the 
 enterprise. Many persons took interest in my mother ; 
 indeed, unless they were monsters of the vilest species — 
 and such, alas ! many were — it was impossible to approach 
 her and see her for even a few moments without being filled 
 with respect, so much did kindness temper what was stately 
 and dignified in her bearing. But we knew none of these 
 details at that time; we knew only that my mother had 
 seen a Chevalier de Saint-Louis who had given her a pink 
 in which was a note ; but we were now so closely confined 
 we could not learn the result.^ 
 
 Every day we were searched by the municipals. On the 
 4th of September they came at four in the morning to make 
 a thorough visitation and take away the silver and the 
 china. They took all that was left to us, and finding an 
 
 ^ This was M. de Rougeville ; mention is made of his visit to the queen 
 in the Conciergerie in Count Fersen's Diary. — Tk. 
 
 18 
 
274 MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE. [1793 
 
 article missing they had the baseness to accuse us of hav- 
 ing stolen it, whereas it was one of their colleagues who had 
 hidden it. They found behind the drawers of my aunt's 
 wash-stand a roll of louis, which they seized with extraor- 
 diuary avidity. They questioned my aunt closely to know 
 who gave her that gold, how long she had had it, and for 
 whom she was keeping it. She answered that the Priucesse 
 de Lamballe had given it to her after the 10th of August, 
 and that, in spite of all the searches, she had preserved it. 
 They asked her who had given it to Madame de Lamballe, 
 and she said she did not know. The fact was that the 
 Priucesse de Lamballe's women had found means to send 
 the money to her in the Temple, and she had shared it with 
 my parents. They questioned me also, asked my name, as 
 if they did not know it, and made me sign the jproces- 
 verbal. 
 
 October 8th at midday, as we were busy doing up our 
 chamber and dressing ourselves, Pache, Chaumette, and 
 David, members of the Convention, arrived with several 
 municipals. My aunt would not open the door until she 
 was dressed. Pache, turning to me, requested me to go 
 down. My aunt wished to follow me ; they refused her. 
 She asked if I should return. Chaumette assured her that 
 I should, saying : " You may rely on the word of a good 
 republican." I kissed my aunt, who was trembling all over, 
 and I went down. I was very embarrassed ; it was the first 
 time I was ever alone with men; I did not know what 
 they wanted of me, but I commended myself to God. On 
 the staircase Chaumette wished to do me civilities; I did 
 not answer him. Entering my brother's room I kissed him 
 tenderly ; but they snatched him from my arms telling me 
 to pass on into the next room. There Chaumette made 
 me sit down ; he placed himself in front of me. A munici- 
 
1793] NARRATIVE OF MADAME ROYALE. 275 
 
 pal took a pen, and Chaumette asked me my name. After 
 that Hebert questioned me ; he began thus : — 
 
 "Tell the truth. This does not concern either you or 
 your relations." 
 
 " Does it not concern my mother ? " 
 
 " No ; but persons who have not done their duty. Do you 
 know the citizens Toulan, Lepitre, Bruno, Bugnot, Merle, and 
 Michonis ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 "What, you do not know them ? " 
 
 " No, monsieur." 
 
 " That is false, especially as to Toulan, that small young 
 man who often waited on you in the Temple." 
 
 " I did not know him any more than the others." 
 
 " You remember a day when you stayed alone with your 
 brother on the tower ? " 
 
 « Yes." 
 
 " Your relations sent you there that they might talk more 
 at their ease with those men." 
 
 " No, monsieur, it was to accustom us to the cold." 
 
 " What did you do on the tower ? " 
 
 " We talked, we played." 
 
 " And, on going out, did you see what those men brought 
 to your relations ? " 
 
 " I did not see anything." 
 
 Chaumette then questioned me on a great many vile 
 things of which they accused my mother and my aunt. I 
 was aghast at such horrors, and so indignant that, in spite 
 of the fear I felt, I could not keep myself from saying it 
 was an infamy. In spite of my tears they insisted long. 
 There were things I did not understand, but what I did 
 understand was so horrible that I wept with indignation. 
 Then they questioned me on Varennes, and asked me many 
 
276 MADAME ]ELISABETH DE FRANCE. [1793 
 
 questions which I answered as best I could without com- 
 promising any one, I had always heard my parents say 
 that it was better to die than to compromise any one, no 
 matter who. At last my examination ended, at three 
 o'clock; it began at midday. I asked Chaumette ardently 
 to reunite me with my mother, telling him, with truth, 
 that I had asked it a thousand times of my aunt. " I can 
 do nothing about it," he said. " What ! monsieur, cannot 
 you obtain it from the Council general ? " "I have no 
 authority there," he replied. He then sent me back to my 
 room with three municipals, tellirig me to say nothing to 
 my aunt, who was now to be brought down. On arriving 
 I threw myself into her arms, but they separated us and 
 told her to go down. 
 
 They asked her the same questions that they asked me 
 about the persons I have named. She denied all communi- 
 cation with the outside and replied with still greater con- 
 tempt to the vile things about which they questioned her. 
 She returned at four o'clock : her examination had lasted 
 only one hour, mine three ; this was because the deputies 
 saw they could not intimidate her as they expected to do 
 with one of my age ; but the life I had led for four years, 
 and the example of my relations had given me strength of 
 soul. 
 
 Chaumette had assured us that our examination did not 
 concern my mother or ourselves, and that she would not be 
 tried. Alas ! he deceived us, for my mother was tried and 
 condemned soon after. I do not yet know the circumstances 
 of her trial, of which we were ignorant, as we were of her 
 death ; therefore I can only say what I have since discov- 
 ered.i She had two defenders, MM. Ducoudray and Chau- 
 
 1 This part of the Narrative was written, it will be remembered, during 
 the last solitary months of her life in the Tower. — Tr. 
 
1793] 
 
 NARRATIVE OF MADAME ROYALE. 277 
 
 veau-Lagarde. Many persons were brought up before her, 
 among whom some, alas ! were very estimable, others were 
 not. Simon and Matthieu, the jailer at the Temple, appeared. 
 I think of how my mother must have suffered when she 
 saw those men whom she knew were near us. They sum- 
 moned Dr. Brunier before the tribunal. They asked him if 
 he knew my mother. " Yes." " Since when ? " " Since 
 1788, when the queen confided to me the health of her 
 children." "When you went to the Temple did you pro- 
 cure for the prisoners correspondence with the outside ? " 
 "No." My mother here said: "Dr. Brunier, as you 
 know, never came to the Temple unless accompanied 
 by a municipal, and never spoke to us except in his 
 presence." 
 
 Finally, inconceivable fact! my mother's examination 
 lasted three days and three nights without discontinuing. 
 They questioned her on all the vile things about which 
 Chaumette had questioned us— the mere idea could enter 
 the minds of only such men. "I appeal to all mothers," 
 was her answer to that infamous accusation. The people 
 were touched. The judges, alarmed and fearing that her 
 firmness, her dignity, her courage would inspire interest, 
 hastened to condemn her. My mother heard her sentence 
 with much calmness. 
 
 They gave her for her last moments a priest who had 
 taken the oath. After gently refusing him, she took no 
 fm-ther notice of what he said to her, and would not make 
 use of his ministry. She knelt down, prayed to God alone 
 for a long time, coughed a little, then went to bed and slept 
 some hours. The next morning, knowing that the rector 
 of Sainte-Marguerite was in prison opposite to her, she 
 went to the window, looked at his window, and knelt down. 
 I am told that he gave her absolution or his blessing. Then, 
 
278 MADAME Elisabeth de trance. [1793-1795 
 
 having made the sacrifice of her life, she went to death 
 with courage, amid curses which the unhappy, misguided 
 people poured forth against her. Her courage did not 
 abandon her in the cart, nor on the scaffold; she showed 
 as much in death as she had shown in life. 
 
 Thus died, October 16, 1793, Marie-Antoinette- Jeanne- 
 Josfephe de Lorraine, daughter of an emperor and wife of 
 a king of France, aged thirty-seven years and eleven 
 months, having been twenty-three years in France. She 
 died eight months after her husband, Louis XYI. 
 
 lAfe m the Temple till the Martyrdom of Madame Elisabeth 
 and the Death of the Dauphin, Louis XVII. 
 
 "We were ignorant, my aunt and I, of the death of my 
 mother, though we heard the hawkers crying her condem- 
 nation in the streets ; but hope, so natural to the unhappy, 
 made us think she had been saved. We refused to believe 
 in a general abandonment.^ But I do not yet know what 
 things have happened outside, nor if I myself will ever leave 
 this prison, though they give me hopes of it. 
 
 There were moments when, in spite of our hope in the 
 Powers, we felt keen anxiety about my mother, when we saw 
 the fury of the unhappy populace against us. I remained in 
 this cruel uncertainty for one year and a half ; then only, 
 did I learn my misfortune, and the death of my honoured 
 mother. 
 
 We learned from the hawkers the death of the Due 
 d'Orl^ans; this was the only news that reached us during 
 
 1 They were abandoned virtually by all Europe. See the Diary and 
 Correspondence of Count Fersen, the preceding volume of this Historical 
 Series. — Tk. 
 
1793-1795] NARRATIVE OF MADAME ROYALE. 279 
 
 the winter [of 1793-94]. But the searches continued and 
 they treated us with much severity. My aunt, who, since 
 the Eevolution, had an ulcer on her arm, had great difficulty 
 in obtaining what was necessary to dress it; it was long 
 refused to her. At last, one day, a municipal represented 
 the inhumanity of such treatment, and an ointment was sent. 
 They deprived me also of the means of making an herb-tea 
 which my aunt made me take every morning for my health. 
 Having no fish, she asked for eggs or other dishes on fast- 
 days. They refused them, saying that in equality there was 
 no difference of days; there were no weeks, only decades. 
 They brought us a new almanac, but we did not look at it. 
 Another time, when my aunt again asked for fast-day food 
 they answered : " Why, citoyenne, don't you know what has 
 taken place ? none but fools believe all that." She made no 
 further requests. 
 
 They continued to search us, especially in the month of 
 November. An order was given to search us every day three 
 times ; one search lasted from four in the afternoon till half- 
 past eight at night. The four municipals who made it were 
 all drunk. No one could form an idea of their talk, their 
 iusults, their oaths during those four hours. They carried 
 away mere trifles, such as our hats, cards having kings on 
 them, books in which were coats of arms ; and yet, they left 
 religious books, after saying impurities and follies about 
 them. Simon accused us of forging assignats and of having 
 correspondence with the outside. He declared we had com- 
 municated with my father during his trial. He made a 
 declaration in the name of my poor little brother, whom he 
 had forced to sign it. A noise, that he said was the false 
 money he accused us of making, was that of our backgam- 
 mon, which my aunt, wishing to amuse me a little, had been 
 kind enough to teach me. We played it in the evening 
 
280 MADAME :fcLISABETH DE FEANCE. [1793-1795 
 
 during the winter, which passed rather quietly, in spite of 
 the inquisition and searches. They gave us wood to burn, 
 which they had hitherto refused us. 
 
 January 19th we heard a great noise in my brother's 
 room, which made us conjecture that they were taking him 
 from the Temple; we were convinced of it when, looking 
 through the key-hole, we saw them carrying away packages. 
 The following days as we heard his door open and persons 
 walking in his room we were more than ever convinced that 
 he was gone. We thought they had put some important 
 personage in the lower room ; but I have since learned that 
 it was Simon who had gone away. Obliged to choose be- 
 tween his office as municipal and that of jailer to my brother, 
 he preferred the former. I have since heard also that they 
 had the cruelty to leave my poor brother alone ; unheard-of 
 barbarity which has surely no other example ! that of aban- 
 doning a poor child only eight years old, already ill, and 
 keeping him locked and bolted in, with no succour but a bell, 
 which he did not ring, so afraid was he of the persons it would 
 call ; he preferred to want for all rather than ask anything of 
 his persecutors. 
 
 He lay in a bed which had not been made for more than six 
 months, and he now had no strength to make it ; fleas and 
 bugs covered him, his linen and his person were full of them. 
 His shirt and stockings had not been changed for a year ; his 
 excrements remained in the room, no one had removed them 
 during all that time. His window, the bars of which were 
 secured by a padlock, was never opened ; it was impossible 
 to stay in his chamber on account of the foul odour. It is 
 true that my brother neglected himself; he might have 
 taken rather more care of his person ; he could at least have 
 washed himself, because they gave him a pitcher of water. 
 But the unhappy child was half dead with fear, so much did 
 
1793-1795] NAERATIVE OF MADAME ROYALE, 281 
 
 Simon and the others terrify him. He spent the day in 
 doing nothing ; they gave him no light ; this condition did 
 as much harm to him morally as it did physically. It is not 
 surprising that he fell into a fearful marasmus ; the time 
 that his health remained good and was able to resist such 
 cruelties proves the strength of his constitution. 
 
 They " thee'd and thou'd " us much during the winter ; we 
 despised all vexatious things, but this degree of coarseness 
 always made my aunt and me blush. She performed her 
 Lenten duties fully, though deprived of fast-day food. She 
 took at dinner a bowl of coffee and milk (this was her break- 
 fast which she kept over) ; in the evening she ate only a 
 piece of bread. She ordered me to eat what was brought, 
 not being old enough to bear abstinence, but as for her, noth- 
 ing could be more edifying. From the time they refused her 
 the fast-day food she never, on that account, neglected the 
 duties prescribed by religion. When the spring began they 
 took away our tallow candle and we went to bed when we 
 could see no longer. 
 
 Until May 9th nothing remarkable happened. On that 
 day, just as we were going to bed the bolts were withdrawn 
 and some one knocked at our door. My aunt replied that 
 she would put on her dress ; they answered that she must not 
 be so long, and they rapped so hard that we thought the door 
 would burst in. She opened it when she was dressed. They 
 said to her : " Citoyenne, you will please come down." " And 
 my niece ? " " We will attend to her later." My aunt 
 kissed me and told me to be calm for she would soon return. 
 " No, citoyenne, you will not return," they said to her ; " take 
 your cap and come down." They loaded her then with in- 
 sults and coarse speeches ; she bore it all with patience, took 
 her cap, kissed me again, and told me to have courage and 
 firmness, to hope always in God, to practise the good princi- 
 
282 MADAME ELISABETH DE ERANCE. [1793-1795 
 
 pies of religion given me by my parents, and not to fail in 
 the last instructions given to me by my father and by my 
 mother. 
 
 She went out ; at the foot of the stairs they asked for 
 her pockets ; there was nothing in them ; this lasted a long 
 time because the municipals had to write a proces-verlal for 
 the discharge of her person. At last, after countless insults, 
 she went away with the clerk of the tribunal, in a hackney- 
 coach, and was taken to the Conciergerie, where she passed 
 the night. The next day they asked her three questions : — 
 
 « Your name ? " " Elisabeth de France." 
 
 "Where were you on the 10th of August?" "In the 
 chateau of the Tuileries with the king, my brother." 
 
 " What have you done with your diamonds ? " "I do not 
 know. But all these questions are useless ; you want my 
 death ; I have made to God the sacrifice of my life, and I am 
 ready to die — happy to rejoin my honoured relatives whom 
 I loved so well on earth." 
 
 They condemned her to death. 
 
 She made them take her to the room of those who were to 
 die with her ; she exhorted all with a presence of mind, an ele- 
 vation, an unction which strengthened them. On the cart she 
 showed the same calnmess, encouraging the women who were 
 with her. At the foot of the scaffold they had the cruelty 
 to make her wait and perish last. All the women on getting 
 out of the cart asked permission to kiss her, which she gave, 
 encouraging each of them with her usual kindness. Her 
 strength did not abandon her at the last moment which she 
 bore with a resignation full of religion. Her soul parted 
 from her body to go and enjoy happiness in the bosom of the 
 God she had loved. 
 
 Marie-Philippiue-Elisabeth-H^lfene, sister of King Louis 
 XVI., died on the 10th of May 1794, aged thirty years, hav- 
 
1793-1795] NAERATIVE OF MADAME ROYALE. 283 
 
 ing always been a model of virtues. At the age of fifteen 
 she gave herself to God and thought only of salvation. 
 From 1790, when I became in a state to appreciate her I 
 never saw anything in her but religion, love of God, horror 
 of sin, gentleness, piety, modesty, and a great attachment to 
 her family, for whom she sacrificed her life, being never wil- 
 ling to leave the king and queen. She was a princess worthy 
 of the blood of which she came. I cannot say enough of the 
 goodness that she showed to me, which ended only with her 
 life. She considered me and cared for me as her daughter, 
 and I, I honoured her as a second mother and vowed to her 
 all those feelings. It was said that we resembled each other 
 in face : I feel that I have her nature ; would that I might 
 have all her virtues and rejoin her some day, also my father 
 and mother, in the bosom of God, where, I doubt not, they 
 are now enjoying the reward of a death so meritorious. 
 
 I remained in great desolation when I felt myself parted 
 from my aunt ; I did not know what had become of her, and 
 no one would tell me, I passed a very cruel night : and yet, 
 though I was very uneasy about her fate, I was far from 
 thinking I should lose her in a few hours. Sometimes I 
 persuaded myself that they woijld send her out of France ; 
 then, when I recalled the manner in which they had taken 
 her away, my fears revived. The next day I asked the muni- 
 cipals where she was ; they said she had gone to take the air. 
 I renewed my request to be taken to my mother, as I was 
 parted from my aunt ; they replied that they would speak of 
 it. They came soon after and brought me the key of the 
 closet in which my aunt kept her linen ; I asked them to send 
 some to her, because she had taken none with her ; they told 
 me they could not do so. 
 
 Seeing that when I asked the municipals to let me go to 
 my mother, or tell me news of my aunt they always replied 
 
284 MADAME :fcLISABETH DE FKANCE. [1793-1795 
 
 that they would speak of it, and remembering that my aunt 
 had always told me that if I were left alone my duty was to 
 ask for a woman, I did so, to obey her, but with great repug- 
 nance, feeling sure they would refuse me, or give me some 
 vile woman. Accordingly, when I made this request, the 
 municipals told me that I needed no one. They redoubled 
 their severity and took away from me the knives, which had 
 been returned to me, saying : " Citoyenne, tell us, how many 
 knives have you ? " " Only two, messieurs," " Have you 
 none for your toilet, nor scissors ? " " No, messieurs." An- 
 other time they took away my tinder-box, having found the 
 stove warm. They said : " May we know why you made that 
 fire ? " " To put my feet in water." " How did you light 
 it ? " " With the tinder." " Who gave you that ? " "I do 
 not know." " As a precaution we shall take it away for your 
 safety, for fear you should fall asleep and burn from that 
 fire." 
 
 Searches and scenes like these were frequent, but unless I 
 was positively questioned I never spoke, nor did I to those 
 who brought my food. There came a man one day, whom I 
 think was Robespierre ; the municipals showed great respect 
 for him. His visit was a secret to all the persons in the 
 Tower, who either did not know who he was, or would not 
 tell me. He looked at me insolently, cast his eyes over my 
 books, and after searching the room with the municipals 
 went away. The Guards were often drunk; nevertheless, 
 we were left alone and tranquil, my brother and I, in our 
 separate apartments, until the 9th thermidor. 
 
 My brother was still wallowiag in filth; no one entered 
 his room except at meal times ; no one had any pity on that 
 unfortunate child. There was but one guard whose manners 
 were civil enough to induce me to commend my poor brother 
 to him. He dared to speak of the harshness shown to the 
 
1793-1795] NARRATIVE OF MADAME EOYALE. 285 
 
 child, and lie was dismissed the next day. As for me, I 
 asked for only simple necessaries, which were often refused 
 to me harshly ; but at least I could keep myself clean, I had 
 both soap and water. I swept the room every day. I 
 finished doing it by nine o'clock when the Guards brought 
 up my breakfast. I had no light, but when the days were 
 long I suffered less from that privation. They would no 
 longer give me books ; I had none but those of piety and 
 travels which I had read a hundred times. I had some 
 knitting, but that ennuy^d me very much. 
 
 Such was our state when the 9th thermidor arrived. I 
 heard the generale beaten and the tocsin rung; I was very 
 uneasy. The municipals in the Temple did not stir out. 
 When they brought my dinner I dared not ask what was 
 happening. At last, on the 10th thermidor, at six o'clock in 
 the morning, I heard a frightful noise in the Temple ; the 
 Guard cried to arms, the drums beat, the gates were opened 
 and shut. All this uproar was occasioned by a visit from 
 members of the National Assembly, who came to assure 
 themselves that all was secure. I heard the bolts of my 
 brother's door drawn back ; I flung myself from my bed and 
 was dressed before the members of the Convention arrived 
 in my room. Barras was among them. They were all in 
 full costume, which surprised me, not being accustomed to 
 see them thus, and being always in fear of something. 
 Barras spoke to me, called me by name, and seemed surprised 
 to find me risen. They said to me several things to which I 
 made no reply. They went away, and I heard them harang- 
 uing the Guards under the windows and exliorting them to 
 be faithful to the National Convention. There were many 
 cries of Vive la Bepuhlique ! Vive la Oonvention I The guard 
 was doubled ; the three municipals who were in the Temple 
 stayed there eight days. On the evening of the third day, 
 
286 MADAME I:LISABETH DE FEANCE. [1793-1795 
 
 at half-past nine o'clock, I was in my bed, having no light, 
 but not asleep, so anxious was I about what was happening. 
 They knocked at my door to show me Laurent, commis- 
 sioner from the Convention, appointed to guard my brother 
 and me. I rose ; they made a long visit, showed everything 
 to Laurent and then went away. 
 
 The next day at ten o'clock Laurent entered my room ; he 
 asked me politely if I wanted anything. He came daily 
 three times to see me, always with civility, and did not " thee 
 and thou " me. He never searched my bureaus and closets. 
 At the end of another three days the Convention sent a 
 deputation to report upon my brother's state; these men 
 had pity upon him and ordered that he should be better 
 treated. Laurent took down a bed which was in my room, 
 because the one he had was full of bugs; he made him 
 take baths, and removed the vermin with which he was 
 covered. Nevertheless, they still left him alone in his 
 room. 
 
 I soon asked Laurent about that which concerned me so 
 keenly ; I mean news of my relations, of whose death I was 
 ignorant, and I begged to be reunited with my mother. He 
 answered me with a very pained air that the matter did not 
 concern him. 
 
 The next day came men in scarfs to whom I made the 
 same appeal. They also answered that the matter did not 
 concern them, and said they did not see why I wanted to 
 leave that place, where I seemed to be very comfortable. 
 " It is dreadful," I said, " to be parted from one's mother for 
 over a year without knowing anything about her, and also 
 one's aunt." " You are not ill ? " " No, monsieur, but the 
 cruellest illness is that of the heart." " I tell you that we 
 can do nothing ; I advise you to have patience, and to hope 
 in the justice and goodness of Frenchmen." I said no 
 
1793-1795] NARRATIVE OF MADAME ROY ALE. 287 
 
 more. I was alarmed the next day by the explosion at 
 Grenelle, which gave me a great fright. 
 
 During all this time my brother was still left alone. 
 Laurent went to him three times a day, but, fearing to com- 
 promise himself as he was watched, he dared not do more. 
 He took much care of me ; and I had only to congratulate 
 myself on his manners all the time he was on service. He 
 often asked me if I needed nothing, and begged me to tell 
 him what I wished and to ring if I wanted anything. He 
 gave me back my match-box and candle. 
 
 Towards the end of October, at one o'clock in the morning, 
 I was sleeping when they knocked at my door; I rose in 
 haste, and, opened it, trembling with fear. I saw two men 
 of the committee with Laurent ; they looked at me, and 
 went away without speaking. 
 
 At the beginning of November came the civil commis- 
 sioners ; that is to say, one man from each section, who 
 passed twenty-four hours in the Temple to verify the exist- 
 ence of my brother. During the first days of this month 
 another commissioner, named Gomier, arrived to be with 
 Laurent. He took extreme care of my brother. For a long 
 time that unhappy child had been left without lights; he 
 was dying of fear. Gomier obtained permission that he 
 might have them ; he even passed several hours with him 
 daily to amuse him. He soon perceived that my brother's 
 knees and wrists were swelled; he feared he was growing 
 rickety; he spoke to the committee and asked that the 
 child might be taken to the garden for exercise. He first 
 made him come down from his room into the little salon, 
 which pleased my brother much because he liked a change 
 of place. He soon perceived Gomier's attentions, was touched 
 by them, and attached himself to him. The unhappy child 
 had long been accustomed to none but the worst treat- 
 
288 MADAME ELISABETH DE ERANCE. [1793-1795 
 
 ment — for I believe that no researches can show such 
 barbarity to any other child. 
 
 On the 19th of December the committee-general came to 
 the Temple in consequence of his illness. This deputation 
 also came to me, but said nothing. The winter passed 
 tranquilly enough. I was satisfied with the kindness of 
 my jailers ; they made my fire and gave me all the wood I 
 needed, which pleased me. Also they brought me the 
 books I asked for ; Laurent had already procured me some. 
 My greatest unhappiness was that I could not obtain from 
 them any news of my mother and aunt ; I dared not ask 
 about my uncles and my great-aunts, but I thought of them 
 incessantly. 
 
 During the winter my brother had several attacks of 
 fever ; he was always beside the fire. Laurent and Gomier 
 induced him to go up on the Tower and get the air ; but he 
 was no sooner there than he wanted to come down; he 
 would not walk, still less would he go upstairs. His illness 
 increased, and his knees swelled much. Laurent went away, 
 and in his place they put Lasne, a worthy man, who, with 
 Gomier, took the greatest care of my brother. 
 
 At the opening of the spring they wanted me to go up on 
 the Tower, which I did. My brother's illness grew worse 
 and worse daily ; his strength diminished ; even his mind 
 showed the effects of the harshness so long exercised 
 towards him, and it gradually weakened. The Committee of 
 Public Safety sent Dr. Desault to take care of him ; he un- 
 dertook to cure him, though he admitted that his illness was 
 very dangerous. Desault died, and they sent as his succes- 
 sors Dumangin and the surgeon Pelletan. They saw no 
 hope. They made him take medicines, which he swallowed 
 with difficulty. Happily, his malady did not make him 
 suffer much; it was debility and a total wasting away 
 
1793-1795] NARRATIVE OF MADAME ROYALE. 289 
 
 rather than acute pain. He had several distressing crises ; 
 fever seized him, his strength lessened daily, and he expired 
 without a struggle. 
 
 Thus died, June 9, 1795, at three in the afternoon, Louis 
 XVII., aged ten years and two months. The commissioners 
 mourned him bitterly, so much had he made them love him 
 for his gentle qualities. He had much intelligence; but 
 imprisonment and the horrors of which he was the victim 
 had changed him much; and even, had he lived, it is 
 to be feared that his mental faculties would have been 
 affected. 
 
 I do not think that he was poisoned, as was said, and is 
 stni said : that is false, from the testimony of the physicians 
 who opened his body. The drugs he had taken in his last 
 illness were analyzed and foimd to be safe. The only poison 
 that shortened his life was uncleanness, joined to the hor- 
 rible treatment, the unexampled harshness and cruelty 
 exercised upon him. 
 
 Such were the lives and the end of my virtuous family 
 during their imprisonment in the Temple and elsewhere. 
 Written in the Tower of the Temple. 
 
 [Marie-Th^rfese de France was exchanged in October, 1795, 
 for the four commissioners of the Convention delivered up 
 to Austria by Dumouriez in April, 1793. She left the Tower 
 of the Temple during the night of December 18, 1795. 
 That tragic building, — about which Marie-Antoinette ex- 
 claimed on hearing where she and her family were about to 
 be imprisoned : " How often I begged the Comte d'Artois to 
 have that vile Tower of the Temple demolished ! it was always 
 a horror to me," — that monument to anguish was razed 
 to the ground by order of Napoleon in 1811. Until then 
 could be read, scratched upon the wall of the room where 
 
 19 
 
290 MADAME I:LISABETH DE EEANCE. [1793-1795 
 
 the child, Marie-Th^rfese, lived her solitary life, these piteous 
 words : — 
 
 " Marie-Therfese is the most unhappy creature in the 
 world. She can obtain no news of her mother; nor be 
 reunited to her, though she has asked it a thousand 
 times." 
 
 ■ " Live, my good mother ! whom I love well, but of whom 
 I can hear no tidings." 
 
 " my father ! watch over me from heaven above." 
 
 " O my Grod ! forgive those who have made my family 
 die." 
 
 She went from the Temple to Vienna, where she lived, 
 against her will, three years and a half, resisting all 
 attempts to make her marry the Archduke Charles of 
 Austria. At last, in 1799, she was allowed to go to her 
 uncle the Comte de Provence (Louis XVIII.) at Mittau in 
 Courlande, where she soon after married her cousin the 
 Due d'Angoul^me, son of the Comte d'Artois (Charles X.). 
 Driven from Courlande with Louis XVIII. by the Emperor 
 Paul, she followed her uncle through all his exiles to 
 Memel, Konigsberg, "Warsaw, again to Mittau, thence to 
 Godsfield Hall and Hartwell in England. " She is the 
 consoling angel of our master," wrote the Comte dAvaray, 
 "and a model of courage for us." 
 
 The portrait of her in this volume was painted by Dan- 
 loux during the first months of her life in Vienna, when 
 she was seventeen years of age. Its sorrowful expression 
 deepened upon her face as the years went by until at last 
 she became an ideal of Sorrow, and the courtiers of the 
 Eestoration reproached her for her sadness and turned from 
 her! But her courage remained. She was absent from 
 the side of Louis XVIII. when the first Eestoration fell, 
 but she made a gallant struggle to uphold the royal cause 
 
1793-1795] NAREATIVE OF MADAME EOYALE. 291 
 
 at Bordeaux where she then was. It was that struggle 
 which led Napoleon to say of her that she was the only 
 man of her family. 
 
 Later, she was at Vichy in 1830, when Charles X. signed 
 the ordinances which cost him his throne. From that day 
 until her death, a period of twenty-one years, she lived in 
 exile, at Holyrood, Prague, Goritz, and Frohsdorf. Her hus- 
 band's nephew, the Comte de Chambord, in whose behalf 
 Charles X. and the Due d'Angouleme abdicated, regarded 
 her as a second mother, and she had a stronger influence 
 over him than his own mother, the Duchesse de Berry. The 
 last glimpse we have of her is at Frohsdorf in 1851, the year 
 of her death, when the Comte de Falloux thus describes 
 her : — 
 
 " Madame la Dauphine was, if I may so express it, pathos 
 in person. Sadness was imprinted on her features and re- 
 vealed in her attitude ; but, in the same degree, there shone 
 about her an unalterable resignation, an unalterable gentle- 
 ness. Even when the tones of her voice were brusque, 
 which often happened, the kindness of her iatention re- 
 mained transparent. She liked to pass in review the French- 
 men she had known; she kept herself closely informed 
 about their family events; she remembered the slightest 
 details with rare fidelity: 'How Madame loves France!' 
 I said to her one day. ' That is not surprising,' she replied. 
 ' I take it from my parents.' At Frohsdorf she was seated 
 nearly the whole day in the embrasure of a certain window. 
 She had chosen this window because of its outlook on copses 
 which reminded her a little of the garden of the Tuileries ; 
 and if a visitor wished to be agreeable to her, he remarked 
 upon this resemblance." 
 
 She died at Frohsdorf on the 18th of October, 1851, in the 
 seventy-third year of her age, and the twenty-first year of 
 
292 MADAME ]fcLISABETH DE FRANCE. [1793-1795 
 
 her last exile. She was buried at Goritz, in the chapel of 
 the Franciscans, between Charles X. and her husband, the 
 Due d'Angouleme. On her tombstone are carved these 
 words : vos omnes qui transitis ;per viam, attendite et videte 
 si est dolor sicut dolor mens. 
 
THE DUCHESSE D'ANGOUL^ME. 
 
 By C.-A. Sainte-Beuvb. 
 
THE DUCHESSE D'ANGOULEME. 
 
 By C.-A. Sainte-Beuve. 
 
 November 3, 1851. 
 
 In coming rather late and after all tlie other organs of 
 publicity to render homage to a lofty virtue and a vast 
 misfortune, I can only repeat, more or less, what has 
 already been said and felt by all. There is one point of 
 view, however, — if such an expression is permissible in 
 presence of a figure so simple and true, so alien to all 
 pompous attitude, — there is one point of view which we 
 will here take especially for ours. 
 
 All suffers change; all dies or renews itself; the oldest 
 and the most revered races have their end; nations them- 
 selves before they fall and end have their several ways of 
 being successive, they take on divers forms of government 
 in their diverse epochs; what was religion and fidelity in 
 one age is only a monument and commemoration of the 
 past in another; but through all (so long as vitiation does 
 not come) something remains, namely: human nature and 
 the natural sentiments that distinguish it, respect for vir- 
 tue, for misfortune, especially if undeserved and innocent, and 
 pity, which itself is piety towards God in so far as it turns 
 towards human sorrow. 
 
 In speaking of Madame la Duchesse d'Angouleme it is to 
 all those sentiments, apart from politics, that I address my- 
 self, — to the sensitive and durable side of our being. 
 
 The feature that stands out in this long life of suffering, 
 of martyrdom in her early years and always of convulsion 
 
296 MADAME I:LISABETH DE FRANCE. [1778-1851 
 
 and vicissitudes, is perfect truth, perfect simplicity, and, it 
 may be said, entire and unalterable consistency. That up- 
 right soul, just and noble, was early fixed and established, 
 and at no moment later did it vacillate. It was fixed during 
 the very years that are for youth the age of lightsomeness, 
 of joy, of budding bloom, during those three years and four 
 months of captivity in the Tower of the Temple when she 
 saw die, one after another, her father, her mother, her 
 aunt, her brother. She entered that place before she was 
 fourteen years old, she left it the day she was seventeen. At 
 that age she had not acquired the marked and rather strong 
 features by which we have known her. The portrait we have 
 of her soon after this period in the Temple, with the hair 
 negligently knotted, has delicacy in its outline, and noble- 
 ness and gravity without excess. Misfortune, while weighing 
 upon that forehead, has not yet drawn there the furrow which 
 appeared a few years later and gave her, as she grew older, 
 more and more resemblance to Louis XVI. 
 
 But at the close of this year, 1795, though the outward 
 presence still retained much of its early youth, the soul was 
 mature, it was formed and disciplined. In its depths that 
 strong and healthy organization had been attacked. The 
 liver suffered and was injured. This tender young slip of a 
 long and illustrious race was blighted, perhaps withered even 
 in its future shoots. If we may dare to form an idea of 
 these mysteries of sorrow, it seems to me that on leaving the 
 Temple both the life and the soul of Madame Eoyale were 
 finished, completed in all essential things ; they were closed 
 to the future ; all their sources, all their roots were hence- 
 forth in the past. Our heart, let it have had but one day in 
 life, fixes or recalls the emotions of a certain hour that we 
 hear strike for us whenever we re-enter our inner selves 
 and dream there. The Duchesse d'Angouleme, who never 
 
1778-1851] THE DUCHESSE D'ANGOULEME. 297 
 
 dreamed but who prayed, when she retreated within herself 
 (though she did not retreat, for she lived there), heard that 
 hour strike on the clock of the Temple for the death-knell 
 of her parents. 
 
 She has related the history of her captivity and the events 
 happening in the Temple from the day she entered there 
 until the day of her brother's death, and she has done it in 
 a simple, correct, concise style, without one word too much, 
 without one wrought-up phrase, as became an upright mind 
 and a deep heart speaking in all sincerity of true sorrows, 
 sorrows truly ineffable, which surpassed all that words could 
 tell. She forgets herself as much as she can, and she stops 
 her narrative at the death of her brother, — the last of the four 
 immolated victims. Let us say more of her here than she 
 has said of herself. 
 
 Marie-Th^rfese-Charlotte de France, born December 19, 
 1778, was the first child of Louis XVI. and Queen Marie- 
 Antoinette. Seven years had elapsed since the queen's mar- 
 riage, when she one day informed the persons in her private 
 circle of her first joy as a wife and her future hopes. About 
 one year later she gave birth to Madame Koyale. Although 
 until then Louis XVI.'s timidity towards his young wife had 
 been extreme, his passion from that moment was not less so, 
 and this child, the first fruits of it, was to a great degree his 
 image. Kindness, integrity, all the solid and virtuous quali- 
 ties of her father were transmitted straight to Madame's 
 heart, and Marie -Antoinette, with all her grace, could not 
 hinder a little of that roughness of gesture and accent which 
 covered the virtues of Louis XVI. from slipping into the 
 wholly frank nature of his child. Also, she forgot to trans- 
 mit to her that which women have so readily — a desire to 
 please and the dawning charm of coquetry, even the most 
 innocent and permissible. Of that, Madame Eoyale had no 
 
298 MADAME Elisabeth de France. [i778-i85i 
 
 idea, and no conception. Or if, in the beginning, some trifle 
 of it mingled in her blood, that little disappeared completely 
 in the trials of a childhood and a youth so oppressed, so 
 desol9,te. In order to comprehend the Duchesse d'Angouleme, 
 we must never cease to remember that all that calls itself 
 springtide joy and bloom, that joyous and bewitching as- 
 pect under which, on entering life, we so naturally see all 
 things, was suppressed and early blighted in her. Her soul, 
 scarcely in its first dawn, was suddenly reduced and worn, as 
 it were, to its woof, — but a solid indestructible woof, which 
 resisted and grew stronger under all assaults, fortifying itself 
 by tears, by prayers, but casting far away from it, as if it 
 were the equal of a lie, all that might have been grace and 
 ornament. In truth, for her who had wept true tears, and 
 never ceased to weep them, it would have been a lie. 
 
 Though she seems in her nature to have derived from her 
 father more than from her mother, there is one virtue at least 
 that she held through the latter, which was lacking in that 
 poor Louis XVI. to save him : I mean firmness, the courage 
 to act in decisive moments. In her august and modest life, 
 in general so aloof from political questions, the Duchesse 
 d'Angouleme found, once at least at Bordeaux, an opportunity 
 to show that she had in her that courage of action which 
 came to her from her mother and from her grandmother, 
 Maria Theresa. And again, in 1830, when she rejoined the 
 royal family at Eambouillet (after^the faults were committed), 
 her first impulsion was, as in 1815 at Bordeaux, to resist and 
 fight. 
 
 She was not eleven years old when, with the terrible days 
 of October, 1789, her public role beside her mother began. 
 She was made to appear on a balcony and retire from it at 
 the bidding of a furious populace ; and in that flux and reflux 
 of the popular storm, of which she strove to divine the mean- 
 
1778-1851] THE DUCHESSE D'ANGOULEME. 299 
 
 ing, she felt but one thing, — the clasp of her mother's hand, 
 which pressed her against herself with the chill of death. 
 
 At that time, in the confines of the Tuileries to which the 
 royal family was restricted, she received from her mother, 
 now becoming more and more grave, from her noble Aunt 
 Elisabeth, and from her father, the lessons of a practical and 
 solid instruction and examples of an unalterable domestic 
 religion. She was brought-up within that domesticity like a 
 child of the most united and purest of noble families, but 
 with mortal terrors added, and with agonies by day and night. 
 It was in that long series of terrors, enigmas, and painful 
 nightmares that the years and the dreams of girlhood, usually 
 so lightsome, were passed. 
 
 On entering the Temple, there was no more enigma, the 
 veil was rent away completely. Henceforth the world to her 
 was sharply divided in two — the good and the wicked: the 
 wicked, that is to say, all that human imagination in times 
 of peace and social regularity scarcely dares to present 
 nakedly to itself, — brutality in all its coarseness and degra- 
 dation, vice and envy in all the ignoble drunkenness of their 
 triumph; the good, that is to say, a few touched, pitymg, 
 timid souls, softening the evil secretly and concealing their 
 deed. 
 
 That the young heart of Madame Eoyale did not take 
 from that hour an imdying hatred, a contempt unchangeable, 
 for the human race, that she preserved her purity of soul, 
 her faith, her trust in good, was owmg to the divine examples 
 and the help she had around her, especially in her Aunt 
 Elisabeth, that celestial person; it was owing to religion, 
 clearly defined and practical, at which no questioning mind 
 can ever have the right to smile, because it alone has the 
 power to sustain and to console under such sorrows. One 
 day (April 20, 1793) the wretch Hubert with other munici- 
 
300 MADAME ifcLISABETH DE ERANCE. [1778-1851 
 
 pals came to the Tower at ten at night, after the prisoners had 
 gone to bed. " We rose hastily," says Madame Eoyale. . . . 
 " My poor brother was asleep ; they pulled him roughly from 
 his bed to search it. . . . They took from my mother the 
 address of a shop, from my Aunt Elisabeth a stick of sealing- 
 wax, and from me a Sacred Heart of Jesus and a Prayer for 
 France." 
 
 That Sacred Heart of Jesus and that Prayer for France 
 were closer bound together than would seem at first; and 
 perhaps she needed all her faith in the one to be able at that 
 moment to pray for the other. 
 
 It has sometimes been said that the Duchesse d'An- 
 gouleme felt a rancour against France, and that when she 
 returned in 1814, and again in 1815, she showed that feeling 
 involuntarily in several of her remarks ; as for acts, it would 
 be impossible to find any for which to blame her. But the 
 persons who knew her best, and who are most worthy of 
 belief, declare that all such feelings were very far from being 
 hers. She was frank and sincere ; she was even a little 
 harsh and brusque in manner, like her father. Incapable 
 of an evil thought, but also of an insincerity, if she did not 
 like you it was impossible for her to say to you or let you 
 think the contrary. "She was a most loyal gentleman," 
 some one said of her to me, " who was never false." She 
 loved her friends, she forgave her enemies; but if, in the 
 religion of her race and her misfortunes, she believed there 
 were faithful and unfaithful, good men and wicked men, can 
 we wonder ? 
 
 The narrative she has given of the events of the Temple 
 was written in it, during the last months of her imprison- 
 ment, when there was some relaxation of extreme severity. 
 In this precise, methodical, sensible, and touching narrative 
 Madame d 'Angouleme gives the measure of her precocious 
 
1778-1851] THE DUCHESSE D'ANGOULEME. 301 
 
 reason, and of her good judgment in things of the soul. She 
 shows herself greatly struck by the dignity of her mother, 
 who, to the speeches of various kinds addressed to the noble 
 captives, answered oftenest by silence. "My mother, as 
 usual, said nothing," writes Madame, in regard to an insult- 
 ing piece of news announced to them, which the queen had 
 the air of not hearing ; often her contemptuous calmness and 
 her dignified bearing awed those men ; it was rarely to her 
 that they addressed themselves. 
 
 It was not until the first day of Louis XVI.'s trial, when 
 she saw him taken away to be iaterrogated at the bar of the 
 Convention, — it was not imtil that day that Marie-Antoinette 
 succumbed to her anxiety and broke her noble silence : " My 
 mother tried in every way to learn what was happening from 
 the municipals who guarded her ; it was the first time she 
 had deigned to question them." 
 
 In this simple narrative, which no one can read without 
 tears, there are touches that make a profound impression, of 
 which the pen that wrote them had no suspicion. Madame 
 has had a trouble in her foot (chilblains, as a result of the 
 cold), complicated with some internal illness. During this 
 time Louis XVI. is condemned. His family, who hoped to see 
 him once more, to embrace him on the morning of his death, 
 is left in a desolation we can well conceive. 
 
 « Nothing," writes Madame, " was able to calm my mother's 
 anguish ; we could make no hope of any sort enter her heart ; 
 she was indifferent whether she lived or died. She looked 
 at us sometimes with a pity that made us shudder. Hap- 
 pily, grief increased my illness and that occupied her." 
 
 Happily! — that word slipping unconsciously into this 
 picture of sorrow has an effect that no word of Bossuet's 
 could equal. 
 
 It was in reflecting on these dolorous scenes of the Temple 
 
302 MADAME :fcLISABETH DE FRANCE. [1778-1851 
 
 that M. de Chateaubriand (not to confound him, however, 
 as some too often do, with Bossuet) said in " Atala : " " The 
 dweller in a cabin, and those in palaces, all suffer, and all 
 moan here below ; queens have been seen to weep like simple 
 women, and men wonder at the quantity of tears that flow 
 from the eyes of kings." 
 
 A popular poet alluding to that celebrated passage, but 
 continuing to keep in opposition the classes, writes : — 
 
 " In the eye of a king the tears can be reckoned. 
 
 The eyes of the people are too full of tears for that." 
 
 The sense of opposition of that kind will never come, I 
 am very certain, to whoso reads the simple. Christian, human 
 narrative of Madame Eoyale in the Temple. All spirit of 
 party disarms itself and dies as we read it ; there is room for 
 nothing but compassion and the deepest admiration. Gentle- 
 ness, piety, and virgin modesty inspire these pages of the 
 shocked and insulted young girl. She spent alone with her 
 Aunt Elisabeth the winter of 93-94. " They tutoy^d us much 
 during the winter," she says. " We despised all vexations, 
 but this last coarseness always made my aunt and me blush." 
 
 The most cruel moment for her was that when, after the 
 death of her father, after the disappearance of her mother 
 and her aunt, ignorant of the actual fate of those dear heads, 
 she heard in the distance, during the weeks that preceded 
 the 9th thermidor, the voice of her brother, already a prey 
 to the corrupters, singing the atrocious songs taught him by 
 Simon, the shoemaker. 
 
 " As for me," she says, " I only asked for simple necessaries ; 
 often they were refused to me harshly. But at least I could 
 keep myself clean ; I had soap and water ; I swept my room 
 daily, and I finished by nine o'clock when the guard brought 
 my breakfast. I had no light, but during the long days I 
 
1778-1851] THE DUCHESSE D'ANGOULEME. 303 
 
 suffered less from that privation. They would not give me 
 books, I had only some of piety and travels which I had read 
 a hundred times." 
 
 At last the Convention, after the 9th thermidor, softened in 
 severity ; public opinion made itself heard, and pity dared to 
 murmur. One of the commissioners, whose duty it was to 
 visit the young princess in the Temple, has left a representa- 
 tion of her in her seemly attitude, suffering and poverty- 
 stricken, seated by the window knitting, and far from the fire 
 (there was not light enough for her work near the chimney), 
 her hands swollen with cold and covered with chilblains, for 
 they did not give her wood enough to warm the room at any 
 distance. This was the first time attention was shown to 
 her or any desire to soften her fate. Her first impulse was 
 to be incredulous, silent, and to refuse all offers. To a ques- 
 tion which the commissioners put to her as to her books, 
 which consisted of the " Imitation of Jesus Christ " and a 
 few other books of devotion, saying that they were scarcely 
 sufficient to amuse her, " Those books, monsieur," she re- 
 plied, " are precisely the ones that suit my situation." 
 
 The period which came between the 9th thermidor, July 
 27, 1794, and the deliverance of the princess in the last days 
 of 1795, was that in which a whole royalist literature at- 
 tempted to burst forth around her. Sentimental songs were 
 made and sung to her from a distance, the echoes of which 
 told her that henceforth friends were watching over her fate. 
 Odes were written on the goat and the dog she was allowed 
 at the very last to have, and which, from neighbouring win- 
 dows, were seen with her in the garden. The Duchesse 
 d'Angouleme has been, or rather could have been, the centre 
 of a whole contemporaneous literature, of which we can fol- 
 low the trace, from the song of M. Lepitre, sung beneath the 
 walls of the Temple, and the novel of " Irma, or the Sorrows 
 
304 MADAME :fcLISABETH DE FRANCE. [1778-1851 
 
 of a Young Orphan " (published by Mme. Gurnard in the 
 year VIII.), to the " Antigone " of Ballanche, which more 
 nobly crowned that allegorical and mythological literature in 
 1815. But one distinctive trait in her was to remain com- 
 pletely aloof from this rather tardy invasion of public senti- 
 mentality. It is to her honour that she never, in the slightest 
 degree, suffered literature, romance, drama, to enter the 
 sanctuary, veiled forever, of her sorrow. "I do not like 
 scenes," she said one day, a little brusquely, to a woman who 
 threw herself on her knees before her to thank her for some 
 benefit. 
 
 Scenes ! she had seen too many scenes, too awfully real, 
 to endure the mere image of them. The deep sincerity of 
 her mourning and of her filial affection had in this direction 
 the same effect we should expect of the most enlightened 
 and severe good taste. All this literature, more or less over- 
 pitched, and in the style of Mme. Cottin, which accumulated 
 round the youth of Madame Eoyale, evidently never touched 
 her ; and the Narrative she wrote in 1795 of the events of 
 the Temple will be the touchstone by which to judge of all 
 these other narratives and false descriptions, could they even 
 be brought into comparison. She proved her great good 
 sense in her utmost sorrow. 
 
 When she leaves France, in Vienna, at Mittau, where they 
 marry her to her cousin, everywhere, in the diverse exiles 
 where fortune tosses her, she is still the same ; the life of 
 the Temple is there, like a background to her oratory, domi- 
 nating each day and dictating to her the employment of it. 
 Submissive to her uncle, in whom she sees both a king and a 
 father, she thinks only of reuniting all her faiths, all her 
 religions, and of practising them faithfully. 
 
 A most touching scene in her life is well related by one of 
 her biographers (M. Nettement); it occurred at Mittau in 
 
1778-1851] THE DUCHESSE D'ANGOUL^ME. 305 
 
 May, 1807, when she nursed and assisted till his end the 
 Abbd Edgeworth de Firmont, the priest who had accompanied 
 Louis XVI. to the scaffold. A contagious fever broke out 
 among the French prisoners brought to Mittau by the events 
 of the war. The Abb^ Edgeworth, in taking care of them, con- 
 tracted the disease, a species of typhus ; and it was under these 
 extreme circumstances that Madame dAngouleme would not 
 abandon him. " The less knowledge he has of his needs and 
 his condition," she said, " the more the presence of a friend 
 is necessary to him. . . . Nothing can prevent me from nurs- 
 ing the Abb^ Edgeworth myself ; I ask no one to accompany 
 me." She wished to return to him, as much as it was in her 
 to do so, that which he had carried of consolation and suc- 
 cour to Louis XVI. when dying. She lived and dwelt con- 
 tinually in that line of thought, without being distracted 
 from it for a single day. 
 
 Did Madame d'Angouleme ever have a single day of real 
 happiness after her issue from the Temple ? Was there ever 
 place in that heart, saturated with anguish in her tenderest 
 years, for one unalloyed and veritable j oy ? It would be strange 
 if, in spite of all, she did not feel one, like an unexpected, 
 gushing spring, during the great moments of 1814, — that 
 year which must have seemed to her at every step a startling 
 testimony to the wonders of Providence. Nevertheless, this 
 sort of exaltation, if she felt it, could not have survived the 
 events of Bordeaux and the new and bitter proof she there 
 obtained of human frailty and unfaithfulness. 
 
 She was, as every one knows, at Bordeaux at the moment 
 when Napoleon's landing in Provence from Elba (March 
 1815) became known. Madame dAngouleme, obeying the 
 impulsion of her maternal blood, had the idea of resistance, 
 and to organize it she did all that we should expect from so 
 noble and virile a character. The opinion of the city was 
 
 20 
 
306 MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE. [1778-1851 
 
 wholly favourable and devoted to her ; but the troops in garri- 
 son seemed doubtful from the moment that the great captain 
 and his eagles reappeared. Nevertheless, she (although 
 vv^arned by the generals), she could not believe that their 
 fidelity was doubtful, because, only the evening before, she 
 had received from these very men, whom she considered 
 heroes, reiterated homage and oaths of fidelity. 
 
 The historians of the Kestoration have very well related 
 those scenes in which Madame d'Angouleme figures, and 
 they all agree in praising her active courage and her bearing. 
 She went through the barracks ; she strove to electrify the 
 soldiers, she piqued their honour — but it was all of no use ; 
 she found hearts closed against her, captured again by the 
 old love. At the moment of leaving, after exhausting all 
 efforts, she turned to the generals who had followed her, and 
 said that she counted upon them to at least guarantee the 
 inhabitants of Bordeaux against all reaction. "We swear 
 it ! " cried the generals, raising their hands. " I do not ask 
 you for oaths," she said, with a gesture of disdainful pity ; 
 " enough have been made to me, I want no more." Those 
 haughty words she had the right to say ; surely few persons 
 have seen with their eyes how far the malignancy or the 
 instability of men can go. 
 
 Mirabeau said of Marie-Antoinette, "The king has but 
 one man, and that is his wife." The Duchesse d'Angouleme 
 deserves the speech of a like nature which Napoleon made 
 about her conduct at Bordeaux. Such praises, even though 
 they may be slightly exaggerated, serve as indications from 
 afar and are registered in history. 
 
 The second Eestoration could bring her no elation; on 
 entering the Tuileries she saw Fouch^, a regicide, made the 
 king's minister. Her upright and inviolable conscience could 
 not admit for a single moment such monstrous compromises, 
 
1778-1851] THE DUCHESSE D'ANGOUL^ME. 307 
 
 which policy itself finds it difficult to understand and which, 
 most assuredly, it did not require. After that moment in 
 1815, we never meet Madame d'Angouleme again in any 
 political action, properly so called ; her whole after life was 
 domestic and inward. 
 
 I have questioned, in regard to her, men who approached 
 her constantly, and this is what they tell me. Each day was 
 alike to her, except the funereal days of her sorrowful anni- 
 versaries. She rose very early, at half-past five o'clock for 
 example ; she heard mass for herself alone between six and 
 seven. It is conjectured that she took the communion often, 
 but she was never seen to do so, except on the great days occa- 
 sionally. No solemnity, no formal preparations; she was 
 only a humble Christian doing a religious act ; she did dis- 
 creetly and secretly saintly things. 
 
 In the early morning she attended to the care of her room, 
 in the Tuileries almost as she did in the Temple. 
 
 She never spoke of the painful and bleeding things of her 
 youth, unless to a very few persons in her intimacy. The 
 21st of January and the 16th of October, the death days 
 of her father and mother, she shut herself up alone, sometimes 
 sending, to help her in passing the cruel hours, for some person 
 with whom she was in harmony of mourning and piety, — 
 the late Mme. de Pastoret, for example. 
 
 She was charitable to a degree that no one knows, and 
 which it is hard to fathom ; those who were best informed as 
 to her alms and other deeds were constantly discovering 
 others, which came up, it were, as from imderground, and of 
 which they knew nothing. In that she was of the true and 
 direct lineage of Saint Louis. 
 
 Her life was very regular and very simple, whether in the 
 Tuileries or elsewhere in exile. The conversation around 
 her was always very natural. At moments, when misfortune 
 
308 MADAME i]LISABETH DE FRANCE. [1778-1851 
 
 made truce for a while, it was noticed that she had in her 
 mind or in her nature a certain gaiety, of which, alas ! she 
 could make too little usage. Still, on her best days and in 
 privacy she would let herself go, if not to saying, at least to 
 hearing, things that were gay. When she felt herself in safe 
 and friendly regions a certain pleasantry did not frighten her, 
 and when on festivals she was expected to order plays for 
 her theatre she did not choose the most serious. 
 
 Even amid the habit of pain there rose to the surface a 
 sort of joy, such as comes to tried and austere souls, whom 
 religion has guided and consoled throughout all time. 
 
 Politics were not for her ; she did not like public affairs. 
 No influence affected her. Her policy, which if it came from 
 herself would have been judicious, was ruled completely by 
 the desires of the king. She thought that when the king 
 decidedly wished anything it was not permissible to resist it, 
 however good a royalist one might be. MM. de Villfele and 
 Corbiferes in resisting the king displeased her quite as much 
 as the liberals themselves could have done. 
 
 She was educated, in the style of the instruction of Louis. 
 XVI. ; she read books of history, travels, morality, and re- 
 ligion. If her reading lacked that which is vivifying in a 
 worldly and literary sense, in the political and profane 
 sense, if the breath and the intelligence of the new epoch 
 never crossed the lines of her horizon, can we wonder at 
 it ? can we pity her for it ? did she not gain far more than 
 she lost through her fixed faith and the stability of her 
 confidence in Heaven ? 
 
 The letters that are quoted as hers, and probably all those 
 that she wrote, are simple, sensible, a little stiff and dry, and 
 presenting nothing remarkable. 
 
 Few good sayings of hers have been repeated, although 
 her heart occasionally suggested one. Apropos of the war 
 
1778-1851] THE DUCHESSE D'ANGOULEME. 309 
 
 in Spain, when she heard of the deliverance of King Fer- 
 dinand by a French army, she exclaimed : " So it is proved 
 that an unfortunate king can be saved ! " 
 
 During her last exile at Frohsdorf she was visited (De- 
 cember, 1848) by a French traveller, M. Charles Didier, 
 who ventured to say to her : " Madame, it is impossible 
 that you should not see in the fall of Louis-Philippe the 
 finger of God." " It is in all things," she replied with 
 simplicity, but also with a tact which came from religion, 
 and from the heart as well. 
 
 It was the same moral delicacy which, in her union with 
 the Due d'Angouleme made her constantly ignore what 
 there was of inequality between them. She took pains to 
 put him forward on the front line, — a delicacy the more 
 real because it was never known whether she was con- 
 scious of it. 
 
 I have told the class of sentiments to which we must 
 limit ourselves in seeking her and admiring her. Do not 
 ask of that soul, so early wounded and despoiled, either co- 
 . quetry of mind or the lighter graces. She would have 
 thought it profanation and indeed a sacrilege to have 
 made her sorrows and those of her parents, her virtue 
 and the respectful interest she inspired, a means of policy, 
 success, or attraction for what she believed to be the " good 
 cause." She would have blamed herself for so doing be- 
 fore God; and when the memory of all that she had lost 
 came back to her she could only veil herself and withdraw 
 into her soul with sobs and tears. 
 
 Enough said to indicate that august nature, that none 
 have been tempted to misconceive : solidity, good sense, 
 kindness, a certain background, as I have said, of gaiety, 
 and a perfect simplicity, — those are the chief traits which 
 composed that nature. Eeligion with charity placed upon 
 
310 MADAME l&LISABETH DE FRANCE, [1778-1851 
 
 it a seal sublime. Her religion was the most uniform, the 
 most practical, and absolutely foreign to all effect on others 
 and all worldly considerations. No one ever bore more 
 simply, naturally, or with more Christianity a greater 
 woe. 
 
 The Duchesse d'Angouleme died at Frohsdorf October 
 19, 1851, aged seventy-three years and four months, and 
 in the twenty-first year of her last exile. Her preceding 
 exile lasted eighteen years (not counting the Hundred 
 Days). They were preceded by imprisonment iq the 
 Temple for three years, and a forced confinement in the 
 Tuileries in the midst of riot and danger for three more. 
 That was the frame of this destiny of sorrow and sacrifice, 
 on which Antiquity would have shed its poesy and its 
 idealism, while we see only its inner beauty, half-veiled, 
 as becomes Christianity. 
 
APPENDIX I. 
 
 Montreuil. 
 
 In 1792 the Commune of Versailles took possession of Madame 
 Elisabeth's much loved Montreuil, which was thenceforth called 
 the ** Maison d'Elisabeth Capet." Seals were placed upon it 
 until inventories were made and the property in it sold by the 
 agents of the National Domain. After that it was let to various 
 persons, and used for various purposes until finally it fell into a 
 state of dilapidation and was sold, on the 6th of May , 1802, as a 
 National domain by the Commune of Versailles to Citizen Jean- 
 Michel-Maximilien Villers, living in Paris, rue de I'Universite, 
 No. 269, for the sum of 75,900 francs. 
 
 Some of Madame Elisabeth's servants remained on the place 
 for a time to take care of it for their new masters. But her 
 faithful Jacques Bosson and his wife, who had charge of the cows 
 and dairy, being obnoxious to the revolutionaries on account of 
 their nationality (Swiss), were thrown into prison, where, being 
 foreigners and friendless, they languished for some years. Among 
 the archives of Versailles is a pathetic letter to the municipality 
 dated March 7, 1793, from one of Madame Elisabeth's servants 
 asking for food for her dogs; he says they are three large dogs, 
 and he no longer has the means to feed them. The cows were 
 sold, the hens died for want of care, the garden was torn up and 
 devastated, the fruit stolen. 
 
 Some of the inventories of the property (made by order of the 
 Department of National Domain in October, 1792) are very inter- 
 esting, especially those of the garden and grounds, and of the 
 library. There were 487 plants in the greenhouses, of 145 different 
 species. Of these 35 were orange-trees, and 15 pomegranates. 
 Many of the plants, the Latin names of which are given, are choice 
 varieties of their kind even at the present day. 
 
312 APPENDIX I. [1792 
 
 In the nursery grounds were 14 kinds of young trees and shrubs ; 
 1413 in all; of which 300 were Scotch pines, 250 ash-leaved 
 maples, 150 Arhres de Sainte-Lucie [?] spireas, dogwoods, 
 syringas, lilacs, cherries, etc. 
 
 The library contained 2075 volumes; a remarkable collection 
 for that period, with a wide outlook in history, memoirs, biog- 
 raphy, and essays on the political condition of France. Of 
 history, there were 406 volumes, among them Hume's England, 
 Eiobertson's Scotland, Gibbon's Eoman Empire, histories of all 
 the countries of Europe, of Constantinople, Japan, the Ottoman 
 Empire, Arabia, Siam, etc. Of memoirs and biography, 203 
 volumes. These were chiefly French, beginning with Villehardouin 
 and coming down to Mme. de Staal-Delaunay and the Letters of 
 Mme. de Pompadour. There were many classics, chiefly trans- 
 lated ; the Bible in 31 volumes ; all the great poems (among them 
 " Le Paradis Perdu") and the chief French dramatists; also 42 
 volumes of Fairy tales; the Arabian Nights, Eobinson Crusoe, 
 and a small, a very small sprinkling of novels. But most inter- 
 esting of all are the books she bought in the last year of her living 
 life, before the tomb of the Temple closed upon her. Among 
 them were: — 
 
 Eeflections on the Revolution in France by Mr. Burke, 1791. 
 
 Speeches and Letters of Mr. Burke, 1790, 1791. 
 
 The Constitution of England. 
 
 Eights and Duties of a Citizen. 
 
 Political Situation of France, and its present Relations with all 
 the Powers of Europe, 1789. 
 
 The Evil and its Remedy ; Memorial on the Militia of the Army, 
 1789. 
 
 The True Patriot. 
 
 The King's Household: what it was, what it is, and what it 
 should be, 1789. 
 
 Principles opposed to the System of M. Necker, by M. de Favras, 
 1790. 
 
 Present situation of France, 1791. 
 
 The Naviget antyciras, or System without Principles, 1791. 
 
 The reign of Louis XVI. placed before the Eyes of Europe, 
 1791. 
 
1794] APPENDIX II. 313 
 
 Impulse of the Heart and Mind, or Justice rendered to the 
 Queen, 1791. 
 
 Plan for a Free and Happy Constitution, 1790. 
 
 Among a mass of papers preserved in the archives of Versailles, 
 sad and sorrowful reading as they are, there is one amusing little 
 record of Madame Elisabeth's extravagance in a detail of dress. It 
 is a bill of her shoemaker, named Bourbon, rue Neuve des Augus- 
 tins, Paris, for shoes supplied to her nearly every other day from 
 April 6, 1792, to June 30, a short three months; never more than 
 two pairs at a time were sent, and the dates are given. There were 
 27 sendings and 32 pairs of silk shoes \taffetat'\ : 1 6 pairs of black, 
 5 pairs of gray, 3 of blue, 2 of russet, 2 of puce, and one each of 
 Carmelite and green — all of silk. It is true that Madame Elisabeth 
 mentions having walked for three or four hours in the garden, and 
 speaks of " the shocking mud, " crotte indigne, so perhaps it is no 
 wonder that silk shoes lasted only two days. 
 
 APPENDIX II. 
 
 First Examination of Madame ^lisateth hy Fouquier- 
 Tinville, May 9, 1794. From the Official Becord. 
 
 This day, twentieth floreal, year two of the Eepublic, before 
 Antoine-Quentin Fouquier ... we have asked the name, age, 
 profession, place of birth, and residence of Elisabeth Marie Capet, 
 sister of Louis Capet, age thirty, born at Versailles. 
 
 Q. Did you conspire with the late tyrant against the safety 
 and liberty of the French people ? 
 
 A. I am ignorant to whom you give that title ; but I have 
 never desired anything but the happiness of the French people. 
 
 Q. Have you maintained correspondence with the internal and 
 external enemies of the Eepublic, especially with the brothers of 
 Capet and yourself ? and have you furnished them help in money 1 
 
 A. I have known none but those who loved France. I have 
 
314 APPENDIX 11. [1794 
 
 never furnished help to my brothers; and since the month of 
 August, 1792, I have received no news of them, nor have I sent 
 them any. 
 
 Q. Did you not send them diamonds ? 
 
 A. No. 
 
 Q. I call your attention to the fact that your answer is not 
 correct as to the diamonds, inasmuch as it is notorious that you 
 sent your diamonds to he sold in Holland and other foreign coun- 
 tries, and that you sent their proceeds, by your agents, to your 
 brothers, to help them in maintaining their rebellion against the 
 French people. 
 
 A. I deny the charge, because it is false. 
 
 Q. I call you to notice that in the trial which took place in 
 November, 1792, relatively to the theft of diamonds made from 
 the ci-devant crown property, it was established and proved that a 
 portion of the diamonds with which you formerly adorned your- 
 self came from there, and it was also proved that the price for 
 which they were sold was sent to your brothers by your orders ; 
 that is why I summon you to explain yourself categorically on 
 those facts. 
 
 A. I am ignorant of the thefts of which you speak. I was 
 at that period in the Temple, and I persist in my previous 
 denial. 
 
 Q. Did you not have knowledge that the journey determined 
 upon by your brother, Louis Capet, and Antoinette, to Saint- 
 Cloud on April 18, 1791, was imagined only to seize the occasion 
 to leave France ? 
 
 A. I had no knowledge of that journey further than that my 
 brother wished for change of air, not feeling well. 
 
 Q. Was it not at your solicitation and that of Antoinette, your 
 sister-in-law, that Capet fled from Paris on the night of the 
 20th of June, 1791 % 
 
 A. I learned during the day of June 20 that we should start 
 that night, and I conformed in that matter to the orders of my 
 brother. 
 
 Q. The motive of that journey was it not to leave France and 
 unite yourselves with the emigres^ and the enemies of the French 
 people ? 
 
1794] 
 
 APPENDIX II. 315 
 
 A. Never did my brother, or I, have any intention of quitting 
 our country. 
 
 Q. I observe to you that that answer does not seem correct, 
 for Bouille had given orders for several bodies of troops to be at a 
 point agreed upon to protect your escape, and enable you, your 
 brother, and others to leave French territory. 
 
 A. My brother was on his way to Montmedy, and I never 
 knew him to have any other intentions. 
 
 Q. Have you knowledge of the secret conferences held in the 
 apartments of Antoinette, ci-devant queen, with those who called 
 themselves the Austrian committee 1 
 
 A. I have perfect knowledge that none such were ever held. 
 
 Q. I call you to observe that it is, nevertheless, notorious that 
 they were held between midnight and three in the morning, and 
 those who attended them passed through what was then called the 
 Gallery of Pictures. 
 
 A. I have no knowledge of it. 
 
 Q. What did you do on the night of the 9th and 10th of 
 August, 1792? 
 
 A. I remained in my brother's room; we did not go to bed 
 that night. 
 
 Q. I call your attention to the fact that, having each your sepa- 
 rate apartments, it seems strange that you should collect in that of 
 your brother ; no doubt that meeting had a motive, which I call 
 upon you to explain. 
 
 A. I had no other motive than to be always near my brother 
 when there was disturbance in Paris. 
 
 Q. That night did you not go, with Antoinette, into a hall 
 where the Swiss Guard were making cartridges, and especially 
 were you not there between nine and ten o'clock that night 1 
 
 A. I was not there, and I have no knowledge of that hall. 
 
 Q. I request you to observe that your answer is not correct ; it 
 has been proved at several trials, that Antoinette and you went 
 several times in the night to the Swiss Guards, that you made 
 them drink, and urged them to continue the making of cartridges, 
 several of which Antoinette bit off herself. 
 
 A. That never happened ; I have no knowledge of it. 
 
 Q. I represent to you that the facts are too notorious for you 
 
316 
 
 APPENDIX II. 
 
 [1794 
 
 not to remem'ber them, and not to know the motive which assem- 
 hled troops of all kinds at the Tuileries that night. That is why 
 I again summon you to declare if you still persist in your denials, 
 and in forgetting the motives for this assembling of troops. 
 
 A. I persist in my denials, and I add that I know no motives 
 for that assemblage. I know only, as I have already said, that 
 the constituted bodies charged with the safety of Paris, came to 
 warn my brother that there was an uprising in the faubourgs, and 
 on that the National Guard assembled for his safety, as the Con- 
 stitution prescribed. 
 
 Q. At the time of the escape of the 20th of June, 1791, was 
 it not you who brought out the children ? 
 
 A. No; I came out alone. 
 
 Reading being made to her of the present interrogatories, she 
 persisted in her replies, and signed with us and the clerk. 
 
 ;^LISABETH MaKIE, A.-Q. FoUQUIER, 
 
 Delijiige, Ducbat, Clerk. 
 
 Ba^^^^ c/la. 
 
 ^^^^^2.^^/k^ 
 
1792] APPENDIX III. 317 
 
 APPENDIX III. 
 
 Extract from, the Deliberations of the Commissioners of the 
 Commune on the Service of the Temple. • 
 
 December 22, 1792, Year I. of the Republic. 
 
 At six in the evening the Council assembled to deliberate on 
 the two subjects here following: — 
 
 1st, Louis Gapet appears to be inconvenienced by the length of 
 his beard; he has spoken of it several times. They proposed to 
 shave him. He manifested repugnance, and showed a desire 
 to shave himself. 
 
 The Council thought yesterday that it might give him the hope 
 that his request would be acceded to to-day ; but this morning it 
 was discovered that Louis Capet's razors are no longer in the 
 Temple. On that, occasion was taken to discuss the matter again ; 
 it has been amply argued and the result is a unanimous resolu- 
 tion to submit the matter to the Council-general of the Com- 
 mune, which, in case it judges proper to permit Louis Capet to 
 shave himself, will direct that there be given to him one, or 
 two, razors, of which he will make use before the eyes of four 
 commissioners, to whom the said razors shall be immediately re- 
 turned, and who will register the fact that the return has been 
 made to them. 
 
 2d. The wife, sister, and daughter of Louis Capet have asked 
 that scissors be lent to them to cut their nails. 
 
 The Council having deliberated thereon has likewise voted 
 unanimously that this request shall also be submitted to the 
 Council-general of the Commune, which is hereby asked, in case 
 it gives its consent, to fix the method to be employed in the 
 matter. 
 
 It is decreed that the present deliberation shall be sent to the 
 Council-general of the Commune this day, and early enough for 
 
318 APPENDIX IV. [1792 
 
 the answer to reach the Council of the Commune in the Temple 
 before night. 
 
 And the following do sign the registers. 
 
 Maubert, Defrasse, Jon", 
 
 K.OBERT Mali VOIR, and Destouenelles, 
 
 APPENDIX IV. 
 
 Signs agreed upon to make known to the Princesses the Prog^ 
 ress of the various Armies, etc. ; and sundry Communications 
 from Madame Misaleth to M. Turgy. 
 
 [The queen and Madame Elisabeth arranged a system of signs 
 with Turgy, the faithful waiter who brought up their meals. 
 These with several written communications from Madame Elisa- 
 beth, conveyed to him in a variety of ways, Turgy took to Vienna 
 in 1796, and gave into the hands of Madame Marie-Therese de 
 France. The following (in the French) was copied from those 
 originals] . 
 
 The English put to sea : right thumb on right eye ; if they land 
 near Nantes, put it on right ear ; if near Calais, left ear. 
 
 If the Austrians fight on Belgian frontier, forefinger of right 
 hand on right eye. If they enter France, on right ear. If on the 
 Mayence side, same with middle finger. 
 
 Savoyards, fourth finger, same signs. Spaniards, fifth [little] 
 finger, same signs. 
 
 Be careful to hold the fingers to the place more or less time 
 according to importance of the losses. 
 
 When they are within 15 leagues of Paris keep the same order 
 for the fingers, but lay them on the mouth. ^ 
 
 1 Eemembering all that Count Fersen tells of the delays and the callous 
 indifference of the Powers, each pretending to wait for the others, it is 
 piteous to think of these women watching daily for signs of a deliverer 
 who never came, but left them coldly to their one deliverer, Death. — Tk. 
 
1792] APPENDIX IV. 319 
 
 If the Powers speak about us, lay fingers on the hair, using the 
 right hand. 
 
 If the Assembly pays attention to them, the same, using the 
 left. 
 
 If it adjourns [s'e5^ allait], the whole hand over the head. 
 
 If the rasseviblertients [collections of evfiigres'] advance here, 
 and gain advantages, the finger of right hand on the nose for one 
 advantage, and the whole hand when they are within fifteen 
 leagues of Paris. 
 
 Use the left hand only for the advantages of the French. 
 
 In answer to all questions use the right hand only, not the left. 
 [Here three lines are undecipherable]. Is there a truce, raise 
 your collar. Are they asking for us on the frontier, hand in coat 
 pocket. Are they negotiating, in waistcoat. Paris, are they 
 provisioning it, hand on chin. Has General la Marseille gone, on 
 forehead. Are the Spaniards trying to join the Nantes people, 
 rub the eyebrow. 
 
 Is it thought we shall still be here in August ? After supper 
 go to Fidel (Toulan); ask him if he has news of Produse. If he 
 has good news, napkin under right arm ; if none at all, under left. 
 Tell him that we fear his denunciation may bring him into trouble. 
 Ask him whenever he has news of Produse to tell you, and then 
 sign it to us. 
 
 Can you not, if anything new happens, write it to us with 
 lemon-juice on the paper they use to stopper the water-bottle, or 
 put over the cream ? or perhaps you could put it in a ball, which 
 you could throw down in the room when you are there alone. 
 Get possession of the paper on the bottles whenever I blow my 
 nose as I leave my room. The days when you use that means, 
 lean against the wall as I pass you. 
 
 If it is thought we shall still be here in August hold the napkin 
 in your hand. We hope you will not be harassed again. 
 
 Do not fear to use the left hand for bad news of the armies ; we 
 prefer to know all. If the Swiss declare war the sign is a finger 
 on the chin. If the Nantes people reach Orleans two fingers on 
 the chin. 
 
 What are they crying under our windows? . . . (several 
 
320 APPENDIX IV. [1792 
 
 words illegible) received his pardon yesterday. . . . Has he an 
 idea that we are informed ? and will he not redouble in attentions 
 to prevent it ? Whatever wrong the poor man has done it can only 
 inspire pity, all the more because his repentance followed immedi- 
 ately upon his fault. God has punished him very severely. We 
 pity him. 
 
 Is it true that fear has seized the Parisians, especially young 
 men ? My sister may soon ask for almond-milk. . . . Has the 
 Commune been changed? Is Tison's wife as crazy as they say 
 she is 1 Do they mean to send any one to us in her place ? Is 
 she well taken care of ? 
 
 Consider carefully the disadvantages of T's (Toulan's) demand, 
 and do not let your zeal lead you to do anything to your injury; 
 if you yield, let it be only after you are urged, and promised the 
 greatest secrecy. Are you not expressly forbidden to speak to 
 him 1 Consider all that. Try to find out if they are not trying to 
 throw the disturbances on my companion [the queen] and take her 
 property (Louis XVII.) more than two leagues away from her. It 
 was Fidel (Toulan) who gave us the newspaper I mentioned. 
 The manner in which you serve us is our consolation. Ask Mme. 
 de S. (Serent) for answer on Miranda. 
 
 We saw a newspaper yesterday which spoke of Saumur and 
 Angers as if the R were still mistress ; what does that mean ? 
 Is Marat really dead? has it made an excitement? 
 
 Tell Fidel how touched we are by his last note ; we do not 
 need his assurances to rely wholly and always upon him ; his 
 signals are good. We only want Aux armes, citoyens ! in case 
 they intend to reunite us. But we hope that such precautions 
 will not be necessary. Is your fate decided? answer this ques- 
 tion. If it is necessary that we should get your note quickly, 
 lean towards us and lower your napkin. Tison sometimes hin- 
 ders our taking it at once. But we will watch for it ; do not be 
 uneasy. This is only to be when you have something urgent to 
 say to us. 
 
 Who is the municipal whom they suspect of being in corres- 
 pondence with us ? Is it by writing, or merely by giving news ? 
 Who said it? Have they no suspicion of you? Take care. 
 
1792] APPENDIX IV. 321 
 
 You must give this, Tuesday, to the person to whom you went 
 Saturday ; it is the woman. Give her something to bring out 
 the ink. Send no answer until Tuesday, so as not to multiply 
 packages. 
 
 Give Fidel this note from us, and say to him that because my 
 sister has told you that she sees the little boy go up the staircase, 
 through the window of the cabinet, this is not to keep him from 
 sending us news of him. Why do they beat the drums every 
 morning at six o'clock ? Answer this. If you can without com- 
 promising Mme. de Serent [one of Madame Elisabeth's ladies], 
 or yourself, tell her, that I beg her not to remain in Paris for me. 
 The proposal at the Cordeliers against the nobles worries me for 
 her. If anything happens at the Federation do not fail to let us 
 know. What foundation is there for all the victories they have 
 been crying for the last three days 1 If you have need of almond 
 milk, hold your napkin low when I . . . 
 
 What has become of the English fleet? and of my brothers? 
 Have we a fleet at sea ? What do you mean when you say that 
 all goes well 1 Is it hope of a quick end, of a change in the pub- 
 lic mind ? or are things really going well ? Are these executions 
 of persons whom we know? We hear them cried in the street. 
 How is Mme. de Serent, and my abbe [Edgeworth de Firmont] ? 
 Constant [M. Hue] ? does he know by chance any news of Mme. 
 de Bombelles, who is living near St-Gall in Switzerland ? What 
 has become of all the persons at Saint-Cyr? Tell me if you have 
 been able to read all this ; and cover the water-bottle with good 
 paper that we can use. 
 
 As for Mme. de Serent, as soon as the law about the emigres 
 is wholly finished let her know, and continue to give me news of 
 her. 
 
 This is for Fidel. What you tell me about that person [the 
 queen] gives me great pleasure. Is it the gendarme, or the wo- 
 man, who sleeps in her room? Could she hear through the 
 latter anything more than news of those she loves ? If you can- 
 not be useful to her there, put yourself in some place whence you 
 
 21 
 
322 APPENDIX IV. [1792 
 
 will not be forced to move ; but let me know where, in case we 
 have need of you. I do not consider what concerns me, but if 
 you cannot be useful to that person come and join me in case you 
 are needed. 
 
 I cannot yet believe that you are going away. Try to let me 
 know what is decided ; whether you remain and Tison's wife re- 
 turns. Could you throw a paper into the basket, or put it in a 
 loaf of bread ? Tell me if it is through Mme. de Serent that you 
 hear news of a being who, like me, knows how to appreciate 
 faithful men [the Abbe Edge worth de Firmont]. It is with 
 deep regret that I see you taken from me; the last and only one 
 that remains to me. 
 
 I am much distressed; save yourself for the daj'-s when we 
 may be happier, and able to give you some reward. Carry with 
 you the consolation of having been useful to kind and unhappy 
 masters. Advise Fidel not to risk too much for our signals. If 
 chance lets you see Mme. Mallemain [one of Mme. Elisabeth's 
 waiting-women] give her news of me and tell her I think of 
 her. 
 
 Adieu, honest man [Turgy] and faithful subject. 
 
 My little girl [Madame Eoyale] insists that you made her a 
 sign yesterday morning ; relieve me of anxiety if you still can. 
 I have found nothing. If you put it under the bucket it must 
 have flowed away with the water and will certainly never be 
 found. If there is any news for us, let me know it if you still 
 can. 
 
 Have you read my second bit of paper, in which I spoke of 
 Mme. Mallemain ? Tell Constant [HueJ that I am convinced of 
 his sentiments ; I thank him for the news he gives me, and I am 
 much grieved at what has happened to him. 
 
 Adieu, honest man and faithful subject ! I hope that the God 
 to whom you are faithful will support you, and console you in 
 what you have to suffer. 
 
APPENDIX V. 323 
 
 APPENDIX y. 
 
 Louis XVI.' s Seal and Ring. 
 
 [Clert did not continue in the service of the dauphin, as the 
 king requested. He was compelled to give up the above-named 
 articles to the Council of the Commune, and they remained in 
 the council-room of the Tower until they were mysteriously 
 stolen. This was done (as will be seen by the Narrative of 
 Marie-Therese de Prance) at the instigation of the queen, who 
 was passionately desirous of rescuing these memorials of her 
 husband for her son. Eventually, after the queen's death, 
 Turgy took the seal to Monsieur, and the ring to the Comte 
 d'Artois, as will be seen by the following Note to Clery's 
 Journal.] 
 
 Having started from Vienna on my way to England, I passed 
 through Blankemburg with the intention of doing homage to 
 the king [Louis XVIII.] and presenting to him my manuscript. 
 When His Majesty reached this part of my Journal, he searched 
 in his secretary and showing me with emotion a seal, he said to 
 me : " Clery, do you recognize it ? " " Ah ! Sire, it is the 
 very one." "If you doubt it," said the king, "read this note." 
 I read it trembling, and I asked the king's permission to print 
 the precious document. The following is a copy from the 
 original : — 
 
 ' ' Having one faithful being on whom we can rely, I profit by 
 him to send to my brother and friend, this deposit which can 
 be intrusted to no hands but his. The bearer will tell you by 
 what miracle we have been able to obtain these precious pledges. 
 I reserve to myself to tell you some day the name of him who has 
 been so useful to us. The impossibility, up to this time, of giving 
 you any news of us, and the excess of our sorrows, makes us feel 
 even more keenly our cruel separation. May it not be much 
 
324 APPENDIX V. 
 
 longer ! I emlDrace you meantime as I love you, and you know that 
 that is with all my heart. 
 
 "M. A. [Marie Antoinette]." 
 
 " I am charged for my brother and myself to embrace you with 
 
 all our hearts. 
 
 " M. T. [Marie-Therese]. Louis." 
 
 " I enjoy in advance the pleasure you will feel in receiving this 
 pledge of friendship and confidence. To be reunited with you, 
 and to see you happy is all that I desire ; you know if I love 
 you ; I kiss you with all my heart. 
 
 "E. M. [l&lisabeth Marie]." 
 
 The ring was sent with a packet of the king's [Louis XVI.] 
 hair to Monseigneur le Comte d'Artois. Here is the note that 
 accompanied it : — 
 
 " Having at last found means to confide to our brother one of 
 the two sole pledges that remain to us of the being whom we all 
 mourn and cherish, I thought you would be very glad to have 
 something that came from him ; keep it as a sign of the tender- 
 est friendship with which I embrace you with all my heart. 
 
 "M. A." 
 
 " What happiness for me, my dear friend, my brother, to be 
 able after so long a space of time to speak to you of my feelings. 
 What I have suffered for you ! A time will come , I hope, when 
 I can embrace you, and tell you that never will you find a friend 
 truer and more tender than I ; you do not doubt it, I hope. 
 
 "E. M." 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Angouleme (Due d'), 209; marriage 
 to Marie-Therese, Madame Royale de 
 Erance, 290, 291 . 
 
 AosTA (Duke of), suitor to Mme. Elisa- 
 beth, 9. 
 
 Artois (Charles, Comte d'), character- 
 istics, 14, 15 ; relations with Mme. 
 :6lisabeth, 21, 22 ; she disapproves of 
 his intimacy with Calonne, 58 ; re- 
 lations with his family during the 
 Revolution, 69-71, 73; letters from 
 Mme. Elisabeth, 76, 77, 324. 
 
 August 10, 1792. Clery's account of 
 it, 112-118; Madame Eoyale's ac- 
 count of it, 236-243. 
 
 Bailly (Jean Sylvain), astronomer, 
 author of "History of Astronomy," 
 mayor of Paris, 215. 
 
 Bakn A VE ( Antoine-Pierre- Joseph-Ma- 
 rie), goes to Varennes to bring back 
 the king, 226, 227. 
 
 Beauchesne (M. a. de), his "Vie de 
 Madame ]Elisabeth," 1. 
 
 BoMBELLES (Marquise de), one of Mme. 
 ;fclizabeth's friends and correspond- 
 ents, 10 ; Mme. fi.'s letters to her 
 and others, 33-89 ; Mme. E. inquires 
 for her in her last days, 321. 
 
 BouiLLE (Marquis de), and his son, 
 their failure at Varennes, 221, 222. 
 
 Brazil (Infant of Portugal, Prince of), 
 suitor to Mme. ]felisabeth, 8. 
 
 Breteuil (Baron de), his powers from 
 Louis XVI., 74. 
 
 Calonne (Charles-Alexandre de), 34, 
 35, 58. 
 
 Causans (Marquise de), superintendent 
 of Mme. Elisabeth's household, 
 10. 
 
 Causans (Mile. Marie de), Mme. Elisa- 
 beth's letter to her, 38-40. 
 
 Causans (Marquis de), correspondence 
 with Mme. Elizabeth lost, 10. 
 
 Chaumette (Pierre-Gaspard), 274 ; 
 brutal questioning of Madame Elisa- 
 beth and her niece, 275, 276. 
 
 Chauveau-Lagarde (M.), his defence 
 of Mme. Elisabeth, 92, 101, 102 ; and 
 of the Queen, 277. 
 
 Choiseul (Due de), at Varennes, 221, 
 222. 
 
 Clert, Louis XVI.'s valet de chambre, 
 his " Journal of the Temple," 2, 111- 
 206 ; his account of August 10, 1792, 
 112-118; admitted to the Tower of 
 the Temple to serve the king and 
 dauphin, 119-121 ; massacres of Sept. 
 2 and 3 ; Madame de Lamballe's head 
 brought to the Temple, 122-124; de- 
 scription of the small tower of the 
 Temple, 125 ; life of the royal family, 
 126-129 ; character and insolence of 
 their jailers, 130-137 ; instances of 
 pity, 134, 135 ; description of the great 
 Tower of the Temple, 148, 149 ; nar- 
 rative of events in the Tower till the 
 king's condemnation, 150-165 ; same 
 till his death, 175-206 ; mentioned in 
 the Narrative of Marie-Therese de 
 France, 252, 254, 259, 260; his in- 
 terview with Louis XVIII. at Blank- 
 emburg, 323. 
 
 Clotilde de France (Madame), 
 Queen of Sardinia, sisterly relations 
 
326 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 with Mme. Elisabeth, 3, 4 ; their sor- 
 rowful parting, 7. 
 
 DuMOtJEiEZ (Charles Francois), 261. 
 
 IJlisabeth de France (Philippine- 
 Marie-He'lene, Madame), birth, early 
 character, self-will, and pride, 2, 3; 
 gradual change under wise manage- 
 ment, 4-6 ; Marie-Antoinette's judg- 
 ment of her as a child, 7 ; her house- 
 hold formed, proposals of marriage, 
 8, 9 ; attachment to her young 
 friends, 10-12 ; plans her life, her 
 personal appearance, 16 ; enthusiasm 
 for the war of independence in Amer- 
 ica, 17, 18; the king's gift to her of 
 Montreuil, and her life there, 19-22 ; 
 devotion to her brothers, especially 
 the king, 5, 21, 22 ; her fears for 
 and of him in the future, 22 ; her 
 spirit of faith, 23 ; her last day at 
 Montreuil, Oct. 5, 1789, her firm and 
 wise advice to Louis XVI., 24 ; her 
 farewell to Montreuil, 25 ; life and 
 anxieties in the Tuileries till June 
 20, 1791, 25, 26 ; the same till June 
 20, 1792, 27, 28; Kesignation; her 
 last letter, 31 ; August 10, 1792, her 
 last appearance to the world until 
 her execution, May 10, 1794, 32 ; her 
 letters to friends from 1786 to Au- 
 gust 8, 1792, 33-89 ; fac-simile of her 
 writing, 87 ; of her seals, 89 ; the 
 record of her life in the Tower of 
 the Temple told by her niece and hj 
 Clery, 90 ; the municipality of Paris 
 demands her arraignment, 90, 91 ; 
 she is taken from the Temple and 
 examined by Fouquier-Tinville, 92, 
 and Appendix, 313-316 ; indicted and 
 arraigned with twenty-four others 
 before the Eevolutionary Tribunal, 
 93-95; her examination, 95-101; 
 sentenced to death ; Fouquier-Tin- 
 ville's remark upon her, 103 ; inspires 
 and strengthens those who are to die 
 with her, 104, 105; her death, 106; 
 Clery's account of her life in the 
 Tower of the Temple, 118, 122-124, 
 
 126-129,135,137, 141, 150, 151, 154, 
 156,159, 160, 164, 166, 169-171, 177, 
 178; the parting from Louis XVI., 
 199, 200 ; account given of her in the 
 Narrative of her niece, Marie Therese 
 de France, on October 5, 1789, 210, 213; 
 on the flight to Varennes, 216, 218; 
 on June 20, 1792, her bravery and 
 speech, 232, 234, 239 ; in the Tower 
 of the Temple, 253, 261, 264, 267, 
 269, 272 ; her examination in the 
 Temple, 274-276 ; life in the Tower 
 from the queen's death to her own 
 martyrdom, 278-283 ; her examina- 
 tion at the Conciergerie by Fouqaier- 
 Tinville, 313-316 ; her system of signs 
 and notes of communication in the 
 Temple with Turgy and Toulan, 318- 
 322 ; last words to Monsieur and the 
 Comte d' Artois, 324. 
 
 Falloux (Comte de), description of the 
 Duchesse d'Angouleme just before 
 her death in 1851, 291. 
 
 Favras (M. de), execution of, 25, 45 ; 
 book by him, 312. 
 
 Fayette (Marquis de la), his conduct 
 on the 5th and 6th of October, 1789, 
 24 ; made governor of the Tuileries 
 and keeper of king's person after re- 
 turn from Varennes, 27 ; convinced 
 of his mistaken course, becomes will- 
 ing to save the king, 29, 49 ; com- 
 mands the rioters October 5, 1789, 
 and compels the king to go to Paris, 
 211, 213-215, 218; sends in pursuit 
 of the king to Varennes, 222, 228, 
 229, 246. 
 
 Feerand (Antoine), Minister of State, 
 and peer of France, his Eloge His- 
 torique de Madame Elisabeth de 
 France, 1. 
 
 Fersen (Axel, Count), the flight to 
 Varennes, 218, 219. 
 
 FiRMONT (the Abbe Edgeworth de), 
 becomes Mme. ifclisabeth's confessor, 
 
 59 ; extract from his Memoirs, 59, 
 
 60 ; summoned by the king after his 
 condemnation, 194, 195 ; is with the 
 king the last evening of his life, 198 ; 
 
INDEX. 
 
 327 
 
 says mass on the last morning, 201, 
 202, 257 ; last words to Louis XVI. 
 on the scaffold, 258 ; Marie Therese, 
 Duchesse d'Angouleme, nurses him 
 in his last illness, 321, 322. 
 PouQuiER-TiNviLLB ( Autoine-Queu- 
 tin), examination and arraignment 
 of Madame Elisabeth, 92-96, 313- 
 316; his remark upon her, 103. 
 
 GOGUELAT (M.),64, 221. 
 
 GoMiBR, jailer at the Temple, ap- 
 pointed after 9th Thermidor, his 
 kindness to the dauphin, 287. 
 
 GusTAVus III., King of Sweden, his 
 murder and death, 79. 
 
 Hue (Francois), the Narrative of the 
 Duchesse d'Angouleme given to him, 
 209, 248. 
 
 Joseph II. of Austria, Emperor of 
 Germany, a suitor to Madame Elisa- 
 beth, 9. 
 
 June 20, 1791, Varennes: account of 
 it in the Narrative of Marie Therese 
 de France, 216-230. 
 
 June 20, 1792, assault on the Tuileries, 
 account of it in same Narrative, 230- 
 286. 
 
 Lamballe (Marie-Therese-Louise de 
 Savoie-Carignan, Princesse de), tries 
 to brighten the queen's life in the 
 Tuileries after October 6, 1789, 25; 
 leaves the Tuileries with the royal 
 family, August 10, 1792, 32; goes 
 with them to the Tower of the 
 Temple, 115, 118 ; horrible indig- 
 nities to her head and body after her 
 murder, September 3d, 122-124,130; 
 mention of her by Marie Therese de 
 France, 233 ; in the Temple, 244, 245, 
 248, 249. 
 
 Lasne, jailer in the Temple who suc- 
 ceeds Laurent, takes the greatest care 
 of the dauphin, 288. 
 
 Laurent, appointed after 9th Thermi- 
 dor jailer to the dauphin and Marie- 
 Therese, his kindness, 285-289. 
 
 Louis XVI., becomes king at the age 
 of 19, 7; his character, 12, 13, 15; 
 his reforms, 7, 8, 16, 17 ; gives Mon- 
 treuil to Mme. I^lisabeth, 18, 19 ; his 
 need of her, 22; October 5, 1789, his 
 weakness and indecision, 24 ; urged 
 by Mme. Elisabeth to firmness and 
 action, 25, 27 ; his weak letter to his 
 confessor, June 20, 1792, 28; vainly 
 urged by the Constitutionals to form 
 a National party and put himself at 
 the head of the army, 29-31 ; aban- 
 dons the Tuileries against the will of 
 his wife and sister, August 10, 1792, 
 31, 32; his character transformed in 
 the Tower of the Temple, 32 ; signs 
 the Constitution, 67, 68, 71 ; his life 
 in the Tower described by his valet, 
 Cle'ry, 119-165; the books he read, 
 150; is summoned for trial before 
 the National Convention, 166-172 ; 
 obtains counsel, 173; is separated 
 from his family, 175; his Will, 180- 
 184 ; appears the second time before 
 the Convention, 185; his sentence to 
 death, 188-194; his conduct under it, 
 194 et seq. ; sends for the Abbe Edge- 
 worth de Firmont, 195; the parting 
 with his family, 198-200; prepares 
 for death, 201-204 ; leaves the Temple 
 for the scaffold, 205 ; his daughter's 
 account of him on October 5, 1789, 
 on the flight to Varennes, on June 
 20, 1792, on August 10, 1792, 210- 
 243 ; from the imprisonment in the 
 Tower of the Temple till his death, 
 243, 259 ; the parting with his family, 
 257 ; Fils de Saint-Louis, montez au 
 del, 258. 
 
 Louis Charles (Dauphin), Clery's ac- 
 count of him in the Tower of the 
 Temple, 119 ; the king educates him, 
 127; his prayers, 129; his games, 
 150, 167 ; his goodness of heart and 
 thoughtfulness, 160-162; separated 
 from his father, 168, 169 ; the final 
 parting from his father, 199, 200, 
 257 ; rough treatment the beginning 
 of his illness, 263, 264; torn from 
 his mother and family, 266, 267 ; his 
 
328 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 mother watches daily for hours to see 
 him through a chink in the wall, 267, 
 288 ; given over to the brutal care of 
 Simon, 268 ; is degraded by him, 270, 
 271 ; his most dreadful life, 280, 281, 
 284; after 9th Thermidor his keep- 
 ers, Laurent, Gomier, and Lasne, 
 were very kind to him, 286, 287 ; his 
 health destroyed, he dies of dirt, 
 neglect, and cruelty, June 9, 1795, at 
 3 P.M., 288, 289. 
 Ltjbersac (Abbe de), letters from 
 Mme. I:iisabeth to, 42, 65, 84, 87 ; 
 massacred September 2, 1792. 
 
 Mackatj (the Baronne de), Mme. Elisa- 
 beth's second governess, her wise 
 treatment of the child, 4, 6. 
 
 Malesherbes (Chrestien de Lamoig- 
 non de), failure of his reform min- 
 istry, 8, 30; his letter to Pres. of 
 National Convention offering to be 
 the king's counsel, 173,174; consul- 
 tations with the king, 175-177, 187, 
 184 ; informs the king of his sentence 
 to death, 188, 189 ; denied access 
 after that to the king, 190, 192, 256, 
 257. 
 
 Malodet (M. de), his Memoirs of the 
 Constituent Assembly relate the ef- 
 forts made to induce Louis XVI. to 
 leave Paris and form a National 
 Party, 29-31. 
 
 Manuel, prosecutor of the Commune 
 and member of National Assembly, 
 his insults to the king, 151-153, 244, 
 252. 
 
 Makie- Antoinette (Queen), became 
 queen at 18 years of age, 7 ; aids the 
 king in giving Montreuil to Mme. 
 ifclisabeth, 19, 20 ; life in the Tuileries 
 after October 6, 1789, 25; shares 
 Mme. ^Elisabeth's fear of the king's 
 weakness, but looks for help from 
 Austria, 27 ; her noble speech, Au- 
 gust 10, 1792, 31 ; her last appearance 
 to the eyes of men until her condem- 
 nation and death, October 16, 1793, 
 32 ; Mme Elisabeth's remarks about 
 her in letters, 36, 37; taken to the 
 
 Tower of the Temple, 118; attempt 
 to make her see the head of Mme. de 
 Lamballe, 122-124; her life and oc- 
 cupations in the Temple described by 
 Clery, 125-130 et seq. ; her terrible 
 parting from the king, 198-200 ; 
 her daughter's account of her, 211- 
 213, 216, 217, 221, 232, 234-236, 238, 
 245, 249, 252, 253, 255, 257, 258, and 
 until her death, 259-278, 286 ; apos- 
 trophe to her written by Marie- 
 Theresa on the wall of her room in 
 the Tower, 289, 290. 
 
 MARiE-THEKi;SE DE FRANCE, Duchcsse 
 d'Angouleme, her Narrative, 2 ; taken 
 with her family to the Tower of the 
 Temple, 118 ; Clery's account of her 
 life there, 125 et seq., 150, 151 ; faints 
 on parting with her father, 199 ; her 
 Narrative, 209-295 ; of the first up- 
 rising, October 5, 1789, 210-216; of 
 the flight and stoppage at Varennes, 
 June 20, 1791, 216-230; of the as- 
 sault on the Tuileries, June 20, 1792, 
 230-236; of August 10, 1792, 236- 
 243 ; of the imprisonment in the 
 Tower of the Temple till the death 
 of the king, 243-259 ; of the life in 
 the Tower from the death of the king 
 to that of the queen, 259-278 ; of the 
 same until the death of Mme. Elisa- 
 beth and the dauphin, 278-289; her 
 release from the Temple, marriage, 
 exile, and portrait, 290 ; Napoleon's 
 remark upon her, 291, 306 ; the close 
 of her life at Frohsdorf, 291 ; the 
 words upon her tomb, 291 ; Sainte- 
 Beuve's essay on her life and char- 
 acter, 294-310. 
 
 Marsan (Comtesse de), Mme. Elisa- 
 beth's first governess, 3. 
 
 MiRABEAU (Honore-Gabriel-Eiquetti 
 Comte de), 54 ; his death, 60, 61. 
 
 MoNTiERS (Marquise de), letter from 
 Mme. ^Elisabeth to, 50-52. 
 
 MoNTMORiN (M. de.), his efforts with 
 others to induce the king to leave 
 Paris, August 7, 1792, and form a 
 National party, 29-31. 
 
 Montreuil, 19-22, 25, 36, 44 ; its fate 
 
INDEX. 
 
 329 
 
 after Madame Elisabeth's imprison- 
 ment, its greenhouses, library, etc., 
 311, 312. 
 MoKEis (Gouverneur), his efforts to 
 influence Louis XVI. to action, 30. 
 
 Neckee (M.), 22, 24. 
 
 October 5th and 6th, 1789, beginning 
 of the French Eevolution, and the 
 end of the Monarchy, 210-216. 
 
 Orleans (Philippe Egalite', Due d'), 
 49 ; conduct on the 5th October, 1789, 
 212, 213 ; votes the king's death, 194 ; 
 his death, 278. 
 
 Petion (Jerome), goes with Barnave 
 and others to compel the king's re- 
 turn from Varennes, 226, 227 ; con- 
 duct as Mayor of Paris, 234, 236, 242, 
 249. 
 
 Provence {Monsieur, Comte de), after- 
 wards Louis XVIII. , 12 ; character- 
 istics, 14; his friends, 15; at Mon- 
 treuil, 21 ; corrects the Narrative of 
 Marie-Therese, Duchesse d'Angou- 
 leme, 209 ; she shares his exile after 
 her release from the Tower, 290, last 
 letters of the family in the Tower to 
 him, 323. 
 
 Raigecourt (Marquise de), one of 
 Madame Elisabeth's friends and cor- 
 respondents, 1 ; charming story of 
 Mme. E.'s love for her, 11 ; Mme. E.'s 
 letters to her and others, 33-89. 
 
 Rochefoucauld (Due de La), his ac- 
 count of the king and royal family 
 leaving the Tuileries, August 10, 
 1792, 32. 
 
 Sainte-Beuve (C.-A.), his essay on 
 the Duchesse d'Angouleme, 294-310. 
 
 Santerre, brewer, and Commander of 
 the National Guard, 128, 196; fetches 
 
 the king for the scaffold, 205, 233, 
 244. 
 
 Segur (Vicomte de), 36. 
 
 Si:zE (M. de), one of the king's counsel 
 for his defence, 177 ; defends him, 
 185. 
 
 Simon, shoemaker, jailer at the Tower, 
 his insolence, 132; brutal treatment 
 of the little dauphin, 268 ; depraves 
 him, 270, 271. 
 
 Swiss Guard (The), their splendid de- 
 votion and butchery, August 10, 1792, 
 31. 
 
 Target (M.), refuses the king's re- 
 quest to defend him, 173. 
 
 TisoN, employed in the Tower of the 
 Temple, 151, 245; Mme. Tison be- 
 comes insane from remorse, 265, 
 266. 
 
 TouLAN, a municipal at the Temple 
 faithful to the royal family, his death 
 in consequence, 157, 158; notes to 
 him from Mme. Elisabeth, 321 ; res- 
 cues the king's seal and ring for the 
 queen, 323. 
 
 TouRZEL (Marquise de), accompanies 
 royal family to the Temple, 32, 115, 
 118 ; the dauphin prays for her, 129 ; 
 Madame Royale's account of her, 
 217-221, 238, 239, 244. 
 
 Tronchet (M.), accepts the king's re- 
 quest to defend him, 173, 175, 176, 
 184. 
 
 TuRGOT (Robert-Jacques), failure of 
 his reform ministry, 7. 
 
 TuRGT, seeks employment in the 
 Temple to serve the imprisoned 
 royal family, 143, 144, 177, 178, 212, 
 272 ; signs agreed upon and notes 
 passing between himself and Mme. 
 Elisabeth, 318-322 ; carries the seal 
 and ring of Louis XVI., with notes 
 from the royal family to Monsieur 
 and the Comte d'Artois, 323, 324. 
 

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