CHARLES MAURICE DE TALLEYKANZJ. /IDafeers ot tnstorg BY JOHN S. C. ABBOTT WI'H ENGRAVINGS NEW YORK AND LONDON HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS 1904 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand eight hundred and forty-nine, by HABFRB & BROTHERS. in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern District of New York. PREFACE. IN this history of Maria Antoinette it has been my endeavor to give a faithful narrative of facts, and, so far as possible, to exhibit the soul of history. A more mournful tragedy earth has seldom witnessed. And yet the lesson is full of instruction to all future ages. Intelligence and moral worth combined can be the only basis of national prosperity or do- mestic happiness. But the simple story itself carries with it its own moral, and the reflec- tions of the writer would encumber rather than enforce its teachings. CONTENTS. Chapter Page I. PARENTAGE AND CHILDHOOD.... , 13 II. BRIDAL DAYS 37 HI. MARIA ANTOINETTE ENTHRONED 76 IV. THE DIAMOND NECKLACE 105 V. THE MOB AT VERSAILLES 131 VI. THE PALACE A PRISON 164 VII. THE FLIGHT 189 VIII. THE RETURN TO PARIS 214 IX. IMPRISONMENT IN THE TEMPLE 239 X. EXECUTION OF THE KING.' 272 XI. TRIAL AND EXECUTION OF MARIA ANTOINETTE 290 XIL THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH, THE DAUPHIN, AND THJE PBINCBSS ROYAL '. 304 ENGRAVINGS, Pge VIEW OF PARIS Frontispiece. BRIDAL TOUR.. 48 VERSAILLES FRONT VIEW i VERSAILLES COURT-YARD FOUNTAINS AT VERSAILLES 69 FOUNTAIN OF THE STAR LITTLE TRIANON 74 GARDENS OF MARLY 93 VIEW OF THE BASTILE 134 GARDENS AT VERSAILLES 144 MOB AT VERSAILLES 151 GRAND AVENUE OF THE TUILERIES 156 PALACE OP ST. CLftuD 184 CAPTURE AT VARENNES 208 THE TUILERIES 221 THE TOWER OF THE TEMPLE 257 THE ROYAL FAMILY IN THE TEMPLE 262 MARIA ANTOINETTE IN THE CONCIERGERIE. . . 296 MARIA ANTOINETTE CHAPTER L PARENTAGE AND CHILDHOOD. Maria Theresa. She toeoeed* to tfa* Ihraa* |~N the year 1740, Charles VI., emperor of L Austria, died. He left a daughter twenty- three years of age, Maria Theresa, to inherit the crown of that powerful empire. She had been married about four years to Francis, duke of Lorraine. The day after the death of Charles, Maria Theresa ascended the throne. The treas- ury of Austria was empty. A general feeling of discontent pervaded the kingdom. Saveral claimants to the throne rose to dispute the sue- cession with Maria ; and France, Spain, Prussia, and Bavaria took advantage of the new reign, and of the embarrassments which surrounded the youthful queen, to enlarge their own bord* sn by wresting territory from Austria. The young queen, harassed by dissensions at home and by the combined armies of her powerful foes, beheld, with anguish which bei 14 MARIA ANTOINETTE. J1740 Success of Maria Theresa's enemies. Her flight to Hungary proud and imperious spirit could hardly endure, her troops defeated and scattered in every direo- tion, and the victorious armies of her enemies marching almost unimpeded toward her capital The exulting invaders, intoxicated with unan- ticipated success, now contemplated the entire division of the spoil. They decided to blot Aus- tria from the map of Europe, and to partition out the conglomerated nations composing the empire among the conquerors. Maria Theresa retired from her capital as the bayonets of France and Bavaria gleamed from the hill-sides which environed the city. Her retreat with a few disheartened followers, in the gloom of night, was illumined by the flames of the bivouacs of hostile armies, with which the horizon seemed to be girdled. The invaders had possession of every strong post in the empire. The beleaguered city was sum- moned to surrender. Resistance was unavail- ing. All Europe felt that Austria was hope- lessly undone. Maria fled from the dangers of oaptivity into the wilds of Hungary: But in this dark hour, when the clouds of adversity seemed to be settling in blackest masses ovei her whole realm, when hope had abandoned ev- ery bosom but her own, the spirit of Maria re- 1740.] PARENTAGE AND CHILDHOOD. Iff The queen's SrmneM. The Hungirian twroM. mained as firm and inflexible as if victory were perched upon her standards, and her enemies were flying in dismay before her. She would not listen to one word of compromise. She would not admit the thought of surrendering one acre of the dominions she had inherited from her fathers. Calm, unagitated, and determined, she summoned around her, from their feudal castles, the wild and warlike barons of Hunga- ry. With neighing steeds, and flaunting ban- ners, and steel-clad retainers, and all the para- phernalia of barbaric pomp, these chieftains, delighting in the excitements of war, gathered around the heroic queen. The spirit of ancient chivalry still glowed in these fierce hearts, and they gazed with a species of religious homage upon the young queen, who, in distress, had fled to their wilds to invoke the aid of their strong arms. Maria met them in council They assem bled around her by thousands in all the impos- ing splendor of the garniture of war. Maria appeared before these stern chieftains dressed ' in the garb of the deepest mourning, with the crown of her ancestors upon her brow, her right hand resting upon the hilt of the sword of the Austrian kings, and leading bv her left hand 16 MARI> ANTOINETTE. [1740 The qusen'i appeal. Enthisiasm of her subject* aer little daughter Maria Antoinette. The pale and pensive features of the queen attested the esolute soul which no disasters could subdue. Her imperial spirit entranced &n<* overawed the bold knights, who had ever lived in the realms of romance. Maria addressed the Hungarian barons in an impressive speech in Latin, the language then in use in the diets of Hungary, faithfully describing the desperate state of her affairs. She committed herself and her chil- dren to their protection, and urged them to drive the invaders from the land or to perish in the attempt. It was just the appeal to rouse such hearts to a phrensy of enthusiasm. The youth, the beauty, the calamities of the queen roused to the utmost intensity the ohivalrio devotion of these warlike magnates, and grasping their swords and waving them above their heads, they shouted simultaneously, "Moriamur pro rege nostro, Maria Theresa" "Let us die for our king-, Maria Theresa" Until now, the queen had preserved a de- meanor perfectly tranquil and majestic. But this affectionate enthusiasm of her subjects en* tirely overcame her imperious spirit, and she burst into a flood of tears. But, apparently ashamed of this exhibition of womanly feeling 1740.J PARENTAGE AND CHILDHOOD. 17 TV> queen heads her army. She overthrow* her Mnta he almost immediately regained her composure, and resumed the air of the indomitable sover- eign. The war cry immediately resounded throughout Hungary. Chieftains and vassal* rallied around the banner of Maria. In oerson she inspected and headed the gathering army, and her spirit inspired them. With the ferocity of despair, these new recruits hurled themselves upon the invaders. A few battles, desperate and sanguinary, were fought, and the army of Maria was victorious. England and Holland, apprehensive that the destruction of the Aus- trian empire would destroy the balance of powex in Europe, and encouraged by the successful re- sistance which the Austrians were now making, came to the rescue of the heroic queen. The tide of battle was turned. The armies of France, Germany, and Spain were driven from the territory which they had overrun. Maria, with untiring energy, followed up her successes. She pursued her retreating foes into their own Bountry, and finally granted peace to her ene mies only by wresting from them large portions rf their territory. The renown of these ex- ploits resounded through Europe. The name of Maria Theresa was embalmed throughout the civilized world. Under her vigorous giray 112 18 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1740 Character of Maria There**. Character of her htuband Austria, from the very brink of ruin, was ele- vated to a degree of splendor and power it had never attained before. These conflicts and vio tories inspired Maria with a haughty and im- perious spirit, and the loveliness of the female character was lost amid the pomp of martial achievements. The proud sovereign eclipsed the woman. It is not to be supposed that such a bosom oould be the shrine of tenderness and affection Maria's virtues were all of the masculine gen- der. She really loved, or, rather, liked her hus- band ; but it was with the same kind of emo- tion with which an energetic and ambitious man loves his wife. She cherished him, pro- tected him, watched over him, and loaded him with honors. He was of a mild, gentle, con- fiding spirit, and would have made a lovely wife She was ambitious, fearless, and commanding, and would have made a noble husband. In fact, this was essentially the relation which existed between them. Maria Theresa governed thfl empire, while Francis loved and caressed the children The queen, by her armies and her political influence, had succeeded in having Francis Browned Emperor of Germany She rtood upon 1745.] PARENTAGE AND CHILDHOOD. 19 Crowning of Francis. Muim ThereM't ret own the balcony as the imposing ceremony was per- "ormed, and was the first to shout " Long live the Emperor Francis I." Like Napoleon, she had become the creator of kings. Austria was now in the greatest prosperity, and Maria The- resa the most illustrious queen in Europe. He/ renown filled the civilized world. Through her whole reign, though she became the mother of sixteen children, she devoted herself with un- tiring energy to the aggrandizement of her em- pire. She united with Russia and Prussia in the infamous partition of Poland, and in the banditti division of the spoil she annexed to her own dominions twenty-seven thousand square miles and two millions five hundred thousand Inhabitants. From this exhibition of the character of Maria Theresa, the mother of Maria Antoinette, the reader will not be surprised that she should have inspired her children with awe rather than with affection. In truth, their imperial mother was so devoted to the cares of the empire, that she was almost a stranger to her children, and could have known herself but few of the emotions of maternal love Her children were placet under the care of nurses and governesses from their oirth. Once in every eight or ten da^s the 20 MARIA ANTOINETTE. I174& MarU ThervM'i ternneM. Anecdote queen appropriated an honr for the inspection of the nursery and the apajrtments appropriated to the children; and she performed this duty with the same fidelity with which she examined the wards of the state hospitals and the military schools. The following anecdote strikingly illustrates the austere and inflexible character of the em- press. The wife of her son Joseph died of the confluent small-pox, and her body had been con- signed to the vaults of the royal tomb. Soon after this event, Josepha, one of the daugh- ters of the empress, was to be married to the King of Naples. The arrangements had all been made for their approaching nuptials, and she was just on the point of leaving Vienna to ascend the Neapolitan throne, when she re- ceived an order from her mother that she must not depart from the empire until she had, in ao- eordance with the established custom, descended into the tomb of her ancestors and offered hei parting prayer. The young princess, in an ag- ony of consternation, received the cruel requiai- tion. Yet she dared not disobey her mother. She took her little sister, Maria Antoinette, whom she loved most tenderly, upon her knee, and, weeping bitterly, bade her farewell, saying 1765.] PARENTAGE AND CHILDHOOD. 21 fatal remit Death of Pranei* that she was sure she should take the dreadra. disease and die. Trembling in every fiber, the unhappy princess descended into the gloomy jopuloher, where the bodies of generations of kings were moldering. She hurried through her short prayer, and in the deepest agitation returned to the palace, and threw herself in de- spair upon her bed. Her worst apprehensions were realized. The fatal disease had penetrated her veins. Soon it manifested itself in its utmost virulence. After lingering a few days and nights in dreadful suf- fering, she breathed her last, and her own loath- some remains were consigned to the same silent chambers of the dead. Maria Theresa com- manded her child to do no more than she would have insisted upon doing herself under similar circumstances. And when she followed her daughter to the tomb, she probably allowed her- self to indulge in no regrets in view of the coarse he had pursued, but consoled herself with the reflection that she had done her duty. The Emperor Francis died, 1765, leaving Maria Theresa still in the vigor of life, and quite teautifnl. Three of her oounselors of state, am- bitious of sharing the throne with the illustri- tn> queen, entered into a compart, by wbiob 23 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1755 flan of the counselor*. Birth of Maria Antoinette. they were all to endeavor to obtain her hand in marriage, agreeing that the successful one should devote the power thus obtained to the aggrandizement of the other two. The empress was informed of this arrangement, and, at the close of a cabinet council, took occasion, with great dignity and composure, to inform them that she did not intend ever again to enter into the marriage state, but that, should she hereaft- er change her mind, it would only be in favor of one who had no ambitious desires, and who would have no inclination to intermeddle with the affairs of state ; and that, should she ever marry one of her ministers, she should immedi- ately remove him from all office. Her coun- selors, loving power more than all things else, immediately abandoned every thought of ob- taining the hand of Maria at- such a sacrifice. Maria Antoinette, the subject of this biogra- phy, was born on the 2d of November, 1755. Few of the inhabitants of this world have com- menced life under circumstances of greater splendor, or with more brilliant prospects of a life replete with happiness. She was a child of great vivacity and beauty, full of light-hearted- ness, and ever prone to look upon the sunny side of every prospect. Her disposition was frank, 1755.] PAKKNTAOK AND CHILDHOOD. 23 Mart* Antoinette'* charscter AAactinf **** cordial, and affectionate. Her mental endow- mcnts were by nature of a very superior order Laughing at the restraints of royal etiquette, she, by her generous and confiding spirit, won the love of all hearts. Maria Antoinette wa but slightly acquainted with her imperial moth- er, and could regard her with no other emotions than those of respect and awe; but the mild and gentle spirit of her father took in her heart a mother's place, and she clung to him with the most ardent affection. When she was but ten years of age, her fa- ther was one day going to Inspruck upon some business. The royal cavalcade was drawn up in the court-yard of the palace. The emperor had entered his carriage, surrounded by his ret- inue, and was just on the point of leaving, when he ordered the postillions to delay, and request- ed an attendant to bring to him his little daugh- ter Maria Antoinette. The blooming child was brought from the nursery, with her flaxen hair in ringlets clustered around her shoulders, and presented to her father. As she entwined her arms around his neck and clung to his embrace, he pressed her most tenderly to his bosom, say- ing, " Adieu my dear little daughter. Father wished once more to press you to his heart" 34 MA&IA ANTOINETTE. [1755. Mute Antotastte'i grtot Mull ThartM M a mothor The emperor and his child* never met again. At Inspruck Francis was taken suddenly ill, and, after a few days' sickness, died. The griei of Maria Antoinette knew no bounds. But the tears of childhood soon dried up. The parting scene, however, produced an impression upon Maria which was never effaced, and she ever spoke of her father in terms of the warmest af- fection. Maria Theresa, half conscious of the imper- fect manner in which she performed her mater- nal duties, was very solicitous to have it under- stood that she did not neglect her children ; that she was the best mother in the world as well as the most illustrious sovereign. When any distinguished stranger from the other courts of Europe visited Vienna, she arranged her six- teen children around the dinner-table, towering above tUem in queenly majesty, and endeavor- ed to convey the impression that they were tho especial objects of her motherly care. It was art, however, the generous warmth of love, but the cold sense of duty, which alone regulated her conduct in reference to them, and she had probably convinced herself that she discharged her maternal obligations with the most exem- plary fidelity. 1765.] PARENTAGE AND CHILDHOOD. Mode of education. Patty The family physician every morning visited each one of the children, an,d then briefly report- d to the empress the health of the archdukes tnd the archduchesses. This report fully sat- jsfied all the yearnings of maternal love in the bosom of Maria Theresa ; though she still, that she might not fail in the least degree in moth- erly affection, endeavored to see them with her own eyes, and to speak to them with her own lips, as often as once in a week or ten days. The preceptors and governesses of the royal household, being thus left very much to them- selves, were far more anxious to gratify the im- mediate wishes of the children, and thus to se- cure their love, than to urge them to efforts for intellectual improvement. Maria Antoinette, in subsequent life, related many amusing an- ecdotes illustrative of the petty artifices by which the scrutiny of the empress was eluded. The copies which were presented to the queen in evidence of the progress the children were making in hand-writing were all traced first in pencil by the governess. The children then followed with the pen over the penciled lines. Drawings were exhibited, beautifully executed, to show the skill Maria Antoinette had attain* ad in that delightful accomplishment, whiob 26 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1765. Marim' proficiency in French. She forget* her natire tonga* drawings the pencil of Maria had not even touched. She was also taught to address stran- gers of distinction in short Latin phrases, when she did not understand the meaning of one sin- gle word of the language. Her teacher of Ital- ian, the Abbe Metastasio, was the only one who was faithful in his duties, and Maria made very great proficiency in that language. French being the language of the nursery, Maria nee- essarily acquired the power of speaking it with great fluency, though she was quite unable to write it correctly. In the acquisition of French, her own mother tongue, the German, was so to- tally neglected, that, incredible as it may seem, she actually lost the power either of speaking or of understanding it. In after years, chagrin- ed at such unutterable folly, she sat down with great resolution to the study of her own native tongue, and encountered all the difficulties which would tax the patience of- any foreigner in the attempt. She persevered for about six weeks, and then relinquished the enterprise in despair. The young princess was extremely fond of music, and yet she was not taught to play well upon any instrument This became subsequently a source of great mortification to her, for she was ashamed to confess her igno- 1765.] PARENTAGE AND CHILDHOOD. 27 M*rU' tate for music. Her Ignorac* of genar&l literature, et* ranee of an accomplishment deemed, in the oourta of Europe, 80 essential to a polished ed- acation, and yet she dared not sit down to any instrument in the presence of others. WL^n she first arrived at Versailles as the bride of the heir to the throne of France, she was so deeply mortified at this defect in her education, that she immediately employed a teacher to give her lessons secretly for three months. Dur- ing this time she applied herself to her task with the utmost assiduity, and at the end of the time gave surprising proof of the skill she had so rapidly attained. Upon all the subjects of his- tory, science, and general literature, the prin- cess was left entirely uninformed. The activ- ity and energy of her mind only led her the more poignantly to feel the mortification to which this ignorance often exposed her. When surrounded by the splendors of royalty, she fre quently retired to weep over deficiencies which it was too late to repair. The wits of Paris seized upon these occasional developments of the want of mental culture as the indication of a weak mind, and the daughter of Maria The- resa, the descendant of the Ceesars, was the butt, in saloon and cafe, of nerriment and song. Ma- ria was beautiful and graceful, and winning in 28 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1768 The F reach teacher*. Their chanwtet all her ways. But this imperfect education, exposing her to contempt and ridicule in the society of intellectual men and women, was not among the unimportant elements which con- ducted to her own ruin, to the overthrow of the French throne, and to that deluge of blood which for many years rolled its billows incarnadine over Europe. Maria Theresa had sent to Paris for two teach- ers of French to instruct her daughter in the literature of that country over which she was destined to reign. From that pleasure-loving metropolis two play actors were sent to take charge of her education, one of whom was a man of notoriously dissolute character. As the connection between Maria Antoinette and Lou- is, the heir apparent to the throne of France, was already contemplated, some solicitude was felt by members of the court of Versailles in refer- ence to the impropriety of this selection, and the French embassador at Vienna was request- ed to urge the empress to dismiss the obnoxious teachers, and rn ake a different choice. She im- mediately complied with the request, and sent to the Duke de Choiseul, the minister of state of Louis XV., to send a preceptor such as would be acceptable to tK; court of Versailles After JL76te. PARENTAGE AND CHILDHOOD. 29 Thelbbtde Vennoad. He hmefully abiuai hi* trurt. no little difficulty in Ending one in whom all parties could unite, the Abbe de Vermond was selected, a vain, ambitious, weak-minded man, who, by the most studied artifice, insinuated himself into the good graces of Maria Theresa, and gained a great but pernicious influence over the mind of his youthful pupil. The cab- inets of France and Austria having decided the question that Maria Antoinette was to be the bride of Louis, who was soon to ascend the throne of France, the Abbe de Vermond, proud of his position as the intellectual and moral guide of the destined Queen of France, shame- rally abused his trust, and sought only to ob- tain an abiding influence, which he might use for the promotion of his own ambition. H carefully kept her in ignorance, to render him- self more necessary to her ; and he was never unwilling to involve her in difficulties, that she might be under the necessity of appealing to him for extrication. Instead of endeavoring to prepare her for the situation she was destined to fill, it seemed to be his aim to train her to such habits of thought and feeling as would totally incapacitate her to be happy, or to acquire an influence over the gay but ceremony-loving assemblages of the 30 MARIA ANTOINETTE Etiquette of the French court Etiquette of the Austrian court Tuileries, Versailles, and St. Cloud. At this time, the fashion of the French court led to ex- treme attention to all the punctilios of etiquette. Every word, every gesture, was regulated by inflexible rule. E very garment worn, and every act of life, was regulated by the requisitions of the code ceremonial. Virtue was concealed and vice garnished by the inflexible observance of stately forms. An infringement of the laws of etiquette was deemed a far greater crime than the most serious violation of the laws of morality. In the court of Vienna, on the other hand, fash- ion ran to just the other extreme. It was fash- ionable to despise fashion. It was etiquettu to pay no regard to etiquette. The haughty Aus- trian noble prided himself in dressing as ho pleased, and looked with contempt upon the studied attitudes and foppish attire of the French. The Parisian courtier, on the other hand, rejoicing in his ruffles, and ribbons, and practiced movements, despised the boorish man* ners, as he deemed them, of the Austrian. The Abbe de Vermond, to ingratiate himself with the Austrian court, did all in his power to inspire Maria Antoinette with contempt of Pa- risian manners. He zealously conformed to the customs prevailing in Vienna, and, like all now PARENTAGE AND CHILDHOOD. 31 I'recepts of the teacher. Character of Maria Antoinette c( >iiverts,to pro vethesincerity of hiscon version, went far in advance of his sect in intemperate zeal. Maria Antoinette was but a child, mirth- ful, beautiful, open hearted, and, like all other children, loving freedom from restraint. Her preceptor ridiculed incessantly, mercilessly, the manners of the French court, where she was soon to reign as queen, and influenced her to despise that salutary regard to appearances so essential in all refined life. Under this tutelage, Maria became as natural, unguarded, and free as a mountain maid. She smiled or wept, as the mood was upon her. She was cordial to- ward those she loved, and distant and reserved toward those she despised. She cared not to repress her emotions of sadness or mirthf ulness as occasions arose to excite them. She was conscientious, and mi willing to do that which she thought to be wrong, and still she was im- prudent, and troubled not herself with the in- terpretation which others might put upon her conduct. She prjded herself a little upon her independence and recklessness of the opinions of others, and thus she was ever incurring un- deserved censure, and becoming involved in un- merited difficulties. She was, in heart, truly a noble girl. Her faults were the excesses of a 32 MARIA ANTOINETTE 1 1769 Maria a noble girt. Her rlrtne* and tor fadta. generous and magnanimous spirit. Though she inherited much of the imperial energy of her mother, it was tempered and adorned with the mildness and affectionateness of her father. Her education had necessarily tended to induce her to look down with aristocratic pride upon those beneath her in rank in life, and to dream that the world and all it inherits was intended for the exclusive benefit of kings and queens. Still, tiie natural goodness of her heart ever led her to acts of kindness and generosity. She thus won the love, almost without seeking it, of all who knew her well. Her faults were the una- voidable effect of her birth, her education, and all those nameless but untoward influences which surrounded her from the cradle to the grave. Her virtues were all her own, the iii* st motive emotions of a frank, confiding, and magnanimous spirit. The childhood of Maria Antoinette was prob- ably, on the whole, as happy as often falls to the lot of humanity. As she had never known a mother's love, she never felt its loss. There are few more enchanting abodes upon the sur- face of the globe than the pleasure palaces of the Austrian kings. Forest and grove, garden and wild, rivulet and lake, combine all their 1769.] PARENTAGE AND CHILDHOOD. 33 Mace of Schoenbrun. The cenc of Maria's childhood sharms to lend fascination to those haunts ol regal festivity. In the palace of Schoenbrun, and in the imbowered gardens which surround that world-renowned habitation of princely grandeur, Maria passed many of the years of her childhood. Now she trod the graveled walk, pursuing the butterfly, and gathering the flow- era, with brothers and sisters joining in the rec- reation. Now the feet of her pony scattered the pebbles of the path, as the little troop of equestrians cantered beneath the shade of ma- jestic elms. Now the prancing steeds draw them in the chariot, through the infinitely di- versified drives, and the golden leaves of au- tumn float gracefully through the still air upon their heads. The boat, with damask cushions and silken awning, invites them upon the lake. The strong arms of the rowers bear them with fairy motion to sandy beach and jutting head- land, to island, and rivulet, and bay, while swans and water-fowl, of every variety of plumage, sport before them and around them. Such were the scenes in which Maria Antoinette passed the first fourteen years of her life. Every want which wealth could supply was gratified "What a destiny!" exclaimed a Frenchman, a* he looked upon one similarly situated, "what 84 MARIA ANTOINETTE. |1769 Personal appearance of Maria. Description of LamarttnA a destiny ! young, rich, beautiful, and an arch- duchess ! Ma foi ! quel destine !" The personal appearance of Maria Antoi- nette, as she bloomed into womanhood, is thus described by Lamartine. "Her beauty daz- zled the whole kingdom. She was of a tall, graceful figure, a true daughter of the Tyrol. The natural majesty of her carriage destroyed none of the graces of her movements ; her neck, rising elegantly and distinctly from her shoul- ders, gave expression to every attitude. The woman was perceptible beneath the queen, the tenderness of heart was not lost in the elevation of her destiny. Her light brown hair was long and silky ; her forehead, high and rather pro- jecting, was united to her temples by those fine curves which give so much delicacy and ex- pression to that seat of thought, or the soul in woman ; her eyes, of that clear blue which re- call the skies of the north or the waters of the Danube ; an aquiline nose, the nostrils open and blightly projecting, where emotions palpitate and courage is evidenced ; a large mouth, Aus- trian lips, that is, projecting and well denned ; an oval countenance, animated, varying, impas- sioned, and the ensemble of these features, re- plete with that expression, impossible to de- 1770.] PARENTAGE AND CHILDHOOD. Marla'i betrothal. scribe, which emanates from the look, the shades, the reflections of the face, which en- compasses it with an iris like that of the warm and tinted vapor, which bathes objects in full sunlight the extreme loveliness which the ideal conveys, and which, by giving it life, increases its attraction. With all these charms, a soul yearning to attach itself, a heart easily moved, but yet earnest in desire to fix itself; a pensive and intelligent smile, with nothing of vacuity in it, because it felt itself worthy of friendship*. Such was Maria Antoinette as a woman." When but fourteen years of age she was af- fianced as the bride of young Louis, the grand- son of Louis XV., and heir apparent to the throne of France. Neither of the youthful couple had ever seen each other, and neither of them ha i any thing to do in forming the con- nection. It was deemed expedient by the cab- inets of Versailles and Vienna that the two should be united, in order to promote friendly alliance between France and Austria. Maria Aptoinette had never dreamed even of question- ing any of her mother's arrangements, and con- sequently she had no temptation to consider whether he liked or disliked the plan. She bad been trained to the most unhesitating sub- 36 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1770 Maria's feelldgt on tearing Schoenbrun. Her lore for her horn* mission to maternal authority. The childish heart of the mirth-loving princess was doubt- less dazzled with the anticipations of the splen- dors which awaited her at Versailles and St Cloud. But when she bade adieu to the gar- dens of Schoenbrun, and left the scenes of her childhood, she entered upon one of the wildest careers of terror and of suffering which mortal footsteps have ever trod. The parting from her mother gave her no especial pain, for she had ever looked up to her as to a superior being, to whom she was bound to render homage and obedience, rather than as to a mother around whom the affections of her heart were entwined. But she loved her brothers and sisters most ten- derly. She was extremely attached to the hap- py home where her childish heart had basked in all childish pleasures, and many were the tears she shed when she looked back from the eminences which surround VieLna upon those haunts to which she was destined never again to return. 1770.] BRIDAL DAY*. 37 UvteXV. CHAPTER II. BRIDAL DAYS. 7 HEN Maria Antoinette was fifteen yeart of age, a light-hearted, blooming, beauti- ful girl, hardly yet emerging from the period of childhood, all Austria, indeed all Europe, was interested in the preparations for her nup- tials with the destined King of France. Louis XV. still sat upon the throne of Charlemagne His eldest son had died about ten years before, leaving a little boy, some twelve years of age, to inherit the crown his father had lost by death. The young Louis, grandchild of the reigning king, was mild, inoffensive, and bashful, with but little energy of mind, with no ardor of feel- ing, and singularly destitute of all passions. He was perfectly exemplary in his conduct, per- haps not so much from inherent strength of principle as from possessing that peculiarity of temperament, cold and phlegmatic, which feelf not the power of temptation. He submitted passively to the arrangements for his marriage, never manifesting the slightest emotion of plea*. 88 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1770 Madame da Barrl. Her dissolute character ure or repugnance in view of his approaching alliance with one of the most beautiful and fas- cinating princesses of Europe. Louis was en- tirely insensible to all the charms of female beauty, and seemed incapable of feeling the emotion of love. Louis XV., a pleasure-loving, dissolute man, had surrounded his throne with all the attrac- tions of fashionable indulgence and dissipation. There was one woman in his court, Madame du Barri, celebrated in the annals of profligacy, who had acquired an entire ascendency over the mind of the king. The disreputable connection existing between her and the monarch exclud- ed her from respect, and yet the king loaded her with honors, received her at his table, and forced her society upon all the inmates of the palace. The court was full of jealousies and bickerings ; and while one party were disposed to welcome Maria Antoinette, hoping that she would es- pouse and strengthen their cause, the other par- ty looked upon her with suspicion and hostility, and prepared to meet her with all the weaponi of annoyance. Neither morals nor religion were then of any repute in the court of France. Vice did not even aflect concealment. The children of Louis 1770.] BRIDAL DAYS. 39 CUVtmo of Louis XV. Anecdote of Madame du Barrt XV. were educated, or rather not educated, in a nunnery. The Princess Louisa, when twelve years of age, knew not the letters of her alpha- bet. When the children did wrong, the sacred sisters sent them, for penance, into the dark, damp, and gloomy sepulcher of the convent, where the remains of the departed nuns were moldering to decay. Here the timid and su- perstitious girls, in an agony of terror, were sent alone, to make expiation for some childish offense. The little Princess Victoire, who was of a very nervous temperament, was thrown into convulsions by this harsh treatment, and the injury to her nervous system was so irrep- arable, that during her whole life she was ex- posed to periodical paroxysms of panic terror. One day the king, when sitting with Ma- dame du Barri, received a package of letters. The petted favorite, suspecting that one of them was from an enemy of hers, snatched the pack- et from the king's hand. As he endeavored to regain it, she resisted, and ran two or three times around the table, which was in the cen- ter of the room, eagerly pursued by the irrita- ted monarch. At length, in the excitement of this most strange conflict, she threw the letters into the glowing fire of the prate, where the' 40 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1770 Madame da Burl's beauty. Her political inftanna* were all consumed. The king, enragod beyond endurance, seized her by the shoulders, and thrust her violently out of the room. After a few hours, however, th* weak-minded monarch called upon her. The countess,, trembling in view of her dismissal, with its dreadful conse- quences of disgrace and beggary, threw herself at his feet, bathed in tears, and they were rec- onciled. The remaining history of this celebrated wom- an is so remarkable that we can not refrain from briefly recording it. Her marvelous beauty had inflamed the passions of the king, and she had obtained so entire an ascendency over his mind that she was literally the monarch of France. The treasures of the empire were emptied into her lap. Notwithstanding the stigma attached to her position, the nation, accustomed to thia laxity of morals, submitted to the yoke. As the idol of the king, and the dispenser of hon- ors and powers, the clergy, the nobility, the philosophers, all did her homage. She was still youag, and in all the splendor of her ravishing beauty, when the king died. For the sake of appearances,* she retired for a few months into a nunnery. Soon, however, she emerged again tato the gay world Her limitless power ovei 1770.] BRIDAL DAYS 41 Madame du Karri's pavilion. The Duke de Brissac the voluptuous old monarch had enabled her to amass an enormous fortune. With this she reared and embellished for herself a magnifi- cent retreat, adorned with more than regal splendor, in the vicinity of Paris the Pavilion de Luciennes, on the borders of the forest of St. Germain. The old Duke de Brissac, who had long been an admirer of her charms, here lived with her in unsanctified union. Almost universal corruption at that time pervaded the nobility of France one of the exciting causes, of the Revolution. Though excluded from ap- pearing at the court of Louis XVI. and Maria Antoinette,hermagnificentsaloonswerecrowd- ed by those ever ready to worship at the shrine of wealth, and rank, and power. But, as the stormy days of the Revolution shed their gloom over France, and an infuriated populace were wrecking their vengeance upon the throne and the nobles, Madame du Barri, terrified by the scenes of violence daily occurring, prepared to fly from France. She invested enormous funds in England, and one dark night went out with the Duke de Brissac alone, and, by the dim light of a lantern, they dug a hole under the foot of a tree in the park, and buried much of the treasure which she was unable to take away 42 MARIA ANTOINETTE.' [1770 KadaiBA do Barrl'i flight She It betrayed with her In disguise, she reached the coast of France, and escaped across the Channel to En gland. Here she devoted her immense revenu* to the relief of the emigrants who were every day flying in dismay from the horrors with which they were surrounded. The Duke de Brissao, who was commander of the constitu tional guard of the king, appeared at Versailles in an hour of great excitement. The mob at tacked him. He was instantly assassinated His head, covered with the white locks of age was cut off, and planted upon one of the pali sades of the palace gates, a fearful warning t* ill who were suspected of advocating the oaus of the king. And now no one knew of the buried treasure but Madame du Barri herself. She, anxious to regain them, ventured, in disguise, to return to France to disinter her diamonds, and take them with her to England. A young negro servant, whom she had pampered with every indulgence, *nd had caressed with the fondness with which a mother fondles her child, whom she had caus- ed to be painted by her side in her portraits, saw his mistress and betrayed her. She was imme- diately seized by the mob, and dragged before thft revolutionary tribunal of Lucieunea. She 1793] BRIDAL DAYS. C^demnatlon of Madma du Barri. Her igulh nd dpdr was condemned as a Royalist, and was hurried along in the cart of the condemned, amid the execrations and jeers of the delirious mob, to the guillotine. Her long hair was shorn, that the action of the knife might be unimpeded ; but the clustering ringlets, in beautiful profu- sion, fell over her brow and temples, and veiled her voluptuous features and bare bosom, from which the executioner had torn the veil The veils of the infuriated and deriding populace fill- ed the air, as they danced exultingly around the aristocratic courtesan. But the shrieks of the unhappy victim pierced shrilly through them all. She was frantic with terror. Her whole soul was unnerved, and not one emotion of for- titude remained to sustain the woman of pleas- ure through her dreadful doom With floods of tears, and gestures of despair, and beseech- ing, heart-rending cries, she incessantly ex claimed, Life lifelife ! O save me ! save me !" The mob jeered, and derided, and insult- ed her in every conceivable way. They made themselves merry with her anguish and terror. They shouted witticisms ; n her ear respecting the pillow of the guilloti^ upon which she wa to repose her head. Struggling and shrieking, he was bound to the plank. Suddenly hi 44 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [179& execution of Madame du BarrL Letter tram Maria There** voice was hushed. The dissevered head, drip* ping with blood, fell into the basket, and hei soul was in eternity. Poor woman ! It is easy k; condemn. It is better for the heart to pity. Endowed with almost celestial beauty, living in a corrupt age, and lured, when a child, by a monarch's love, she fell. It is well to weep over her sad fate, and to remember the prayer, '* Lead us not into temptation." Such were the characters and such the state of morals of the court into which this beautiful and artless princess, Maria Antoinette, but fif- teen years of age, was to be introduced. As she left the palaces of Vienna to encounter the temptations of the Tuileries and Versailles, Ma- ria Theresa wrote the following characteristic letter to the future husband of her daughter. " Your bride, dear dauphin, is separated from me. As she has ever been my delight, so will she be your happiness. For this purpose have I educated her ; for I have long been aware that ehe was to be the companion of your life. I have enjoined upon her, as among her highest du- ties, the most tender attachment to your person, the greatest attention to every thing that can please or make you happy. Above all, I have "eoommended to her humility toward God, be- 1770.] BRIDAL DAY*. 45 Departure of Maria for I'-iri. Emotion* of the populace cause 1 am convinced that it is impossible for as to contribute to the happiness of the subjects confided to us without love to Him who breaks the scepters and crushes the thrones of king* according to his will." The great mass of the Austrian population, hating the French, with whom they had long been at var, were exceedingly averse to this marriage. As the train of royal carriages was drawn up, on the morning of her departure, to convey the bride to Paris, an immense assem- blage of the populace of Vienna, men, women, and children, surrounded the cortege with weep- ing and lamentation. Loyalty was then an emotion existing in the popular mind with an intensity which now can hardly be conceived At length, in the excitement of their feelings, to save the beloved princess from a doom which they deemed dreadful, they made a rush toward the carriages to cut the traces and thus to pre- vent the departure. The guard was compelled to interfere, and repel, with violence, the atfeo- tinnate mob. As the long and splendid train, preceded and followed by squadrons of horse, disappeared throagh the gate of the city, a uni- versal feeling of sadness oppressed the capital The people returned to their homes silent and 46 MARIA ANTOINETTE. J1770 Magnificent pTiHon. Singular cuitom dejected, as if they had been witnessing the ob- lexjuies rather than the nuptials of the beloved princess The gorgeous cavalcade proceeded to Kell, on the frontiers of Austria and France. There magnificent pavilion had oeen erected, consist ing of a vast saloon, with an apartment at either end. One of these apartments was assigned to the lords and ladies of the court of Vienna ; the other was appropriated to the brilliant train which had come from Paris to receive the bride. The two courts vied with each other in the ex- hibition of wealth and magnificence. It was an established law of French etiquette, always ob- served on such occasions, that the royal bride should receive her wedding dress from France, and should retain absolutely nothing belonging to a foreign court. The princess was, conse- quently, in the pavilion appropriated to the Aus- trian suite, unrobed of all her garments, except- ing her body linen and stockings. The door was then thrown open, and in this plight the beauti- ful and blushing child advanced into the saloon. The French ladies rushed to meet her. Maria threw herself into the arms of the Countess de Noailles, and wept convulsively. The French were perfectly enchanted with her beauty ; and 1770.] BRIDAL DAYS. 49 flrmnd procession. The reception the proud position of her nead and shoulders betrayed to their eyes the daughter of the Cae- sars. She was immediately conducted to the apartment appropriated to the French court. Here the few remaining articles of clothing were removed from her person, and she was re- dressed in the most brilliant attire which the wealth of the French monarchy could furnish. And now, charioted in splendor, surrounded by the homage of lords and ladies, accompanied by all the pomp of civic and military parade, and enlivened by the most exultant strains of martial bands, Maria was conducted toward Paris, while her Austrian friends bade her adieu and returned to Vienna. The horizon, by night, was illumined by bonfires, flaming npon every hill ; the church bells rang their merriest peals ; cities blazed with illumina- tions and fire- works ; and files of maidens lined her way, singing their songs of welcome, and carpeting her path with roses. It was a scene to dazzle the most firm and contemplative. No dream of romance could have been more bewil- dering to the ardent and romantic princess, just emerging from the cloistered seclusion of the palace nursery. Ixraia, then a young man about twenty yean 114 50 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1770 Young l.uaia't indifference. The marriBg* of age, came from Paris with his grandfather, King Louis XV., and a splendid retinue of cour- tiers, as far as Compiegne, to meet his bride. Uninfluenced by any emotions of tenderness, apparently entirely unconscious of all those mys- terious emotions which bind loving hearts, he sa- luted the stranger with cold and distant respect He thought not of wounding her feelings ; he had no aversion to the connection, but he seemed not even to think of any more intimacy with Maria than with any other lady who adorned the court. The ardent and warm-hearted princess was deeply hurt at this indifference; but in- stinctive pride forbade its manifestation, except in bosom converse to a few confiding friends. The bride and her passive and unimpassionod bridegroom were conducted to Versailles. It was the 16th of May, 1770, when the marriage ceremony was performed, with all the splendor with which it could be invested. The gorgeous palaces of Versailles were thronged with the no- bility of Europe, and filled with rejoicing. Tb* old king was charmed with the beauty and affa. bility of the young bride. All hearts were filled with happiness, except those of the newly-ma* ried couple. Louis was tranquil and contented He was neither allured nor repelled by his bride 1770.1 BRIDAL DAYS. 51 ability of yong LoaU. Aeclmmatlonj of He never sought her society alone, and ever ap- proached her with the same distance and reserve with which he would approach any other young lady who was a visitor at the palace. He nevei intruded upon the privacy of her apartments, and she was his wife but in name. While at France was filled with the praises of her beauty, and all eyes were enchanted by her graceful de- meanor, her husband alone was insensible to her charms. After a few days spent with the rejoicing court, amid the bowers and fountains of Versailles, the nuptial party departed for Paris, and entered the palace of the Tuileries, the scene of future sorrows such as few on earth have ever experienced. As Maria, in dazzling beauty, entered Paris, the whole city was in a delirium of pleasure. Triumphal arches greeted her progress. The acclamations of hundreds of thousands filled the air. The journals exhausted the French lan- guage in extolling her loveliness. Poets sang her charms, and painters vied with each other in transferring her features to canvas. Aa Maria sat in the dining saloon of the Tuileries at the marriage entertainment, the shouts of the immense assemblage thronging the gardens rendered it necessary for her to pi-esent herself 6Ji MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1779. Maria shows herself to the populace. She reectre* their homage. to them upon the balcony. She stepped from the window, and looked out upon the vast sea of heads which filled the garden and the Place Louis XV. All eyes were riveted upon her as she stood before the throng upon the balcony in dazzling beauty, and the air resounded with ap- plauses. She exclaimed, with astonishment, " What a concourse !" " Madame," said the governor of Paris, " I may tell you, without feat of offending the dauphin, that they are so many lovers." The heir apparent to the throne of France is called the dauphin ; and, until the death of Louis XV., Louis and Maria Antoinette were called the dauphin and dauphiness-. Louia seemed neither pleased nor displeased with the acclamations and homage which his bride re- ceived. His singularly passionless natuie lod him to retirement and his books, and he hardly heard even the acclamations with which Paris was filled. A rrangements had beer made for a very brill- iant display of fire-works, in celebration of the marriage, at the Place Louis XV. The hun- tireds of thousands of that pleasure- loving me- tropolis thronged the Place and all its avenues. The dense mass was wedged as compactly as it was possible to crowd human beings together 1770.) BRIDAL DAYS. 53 The fire- work*. Awfnl conflaip-tioa Not a spot of ground was left vacant upon which a human foot could be planted. Every house top, every balcony, every embrasure of a window swarmed with the multitude. Long lines of omnibuses, coaches, and carriages of every de- scription, filled with groups of young and old, were intermingled with thfe luntless multitude men and horses so crowded into contact that neither could move. It was an impervious ocean of throbbing life. In the center of this Place, the pride of Paris, the scene of its most triumph- ant festivities and its most unutterable woe, vast scaffolds had been reared, and they were burdened with fire- works, intended to surpass in brilliancy and sublimity any spectacle of the kind earth had ever before witnessed. Sud- denly a bright flame was seen, a shriek was heard, and the whole scaffolding, by some acci- dental spark, was enveloped in a sheet of fire. Then ensued such a scene as no pen can de- scribe and no imagination paint. The awful conflagration converted all the ministers of pleasure into messengers of death. Thousand* of rockets filled the air, and, with almost the ve- locity of lightning, pierced their way through the shrieking, struggling, terror-stricken crowd. Fiery serpents, more terrible, more deadly than 64 MARIA ANTOINKTTB [1770. Scene of horror. Consternation of Maria the fabled dragons of old, hissed through the air, clung to the dresses of the ladies, enveloping them in flames, and mercilessly burning the flesh to the bone. Mines exploded under the hoofs of the horses, scattering destruction and death on every side. Every species of fire was rained down, a horrible tempest, upon the im- movable mass. Shrieks from the wounded and the dying filled the air ; and the mighty multi- tude swayed to and fro, in Herculean, yet una- vailing efforts to escape. The horses, maddened with terror, reared and plunged, crushing indis- criminately beneath their tread the limbs of the fallen. The young bride, in her carriage, with a brilliant retinue, and eager to witness the splen- dor of the anticipated fete, had just approached the Place, when she was struck with consterna- tion at the shrieks of death which filled the air, and at the scene of tumult and terror which surrounded her. The horses were immediately turned, and driven back again with the utmost ipeed to the palace. But the awful cries of tha lying followed her ; and it was long ere she oould efface from her distracted imagination the impression of that hour of horror. Fifty- three persons were killed outright by this sad casualty, and more than three hundred were 1770.) BRIDAL DAT*. 55 Pre-ent. from Ixrai. XV. Mallee of M*d*oM 4a Barri dangerously wounded. The dauphin and dau- phiness immediately sent their whole income for the year to the unfortunate relatives of those who had perished on that disastrous day. The old king was exceedingly pleased with the beauty and fascinating frankness and cordi- ality of Maria. He made her many magnificent presents, and, among others, with a magnificent collar of pearls, the smallest of which was nearly as large as a walnut, which had been brought into France by Anne of Austria. These praises and attentions on the part of the king excited the jealousy of the petted favorite, Madame du Barri. She consequently became, with the party under her influence, the relentless and unprincipled enemy of Maria. She lost no opportunity to traduce her character. She pread reports every where that Maria hated the French ; that she was an Austrian in heart; that her frankness and freedom from the restraints of etiquette were the result of an immoral and depraved mind. She exaggerated her extravagance, and accused her, by whispert and insinuations spread far and near, of the most ignoble crimes of which woman can br guilty. The young and inexperienced dauphin e soon found herself involved in mo* mbar- 56 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1770. Marim'i difficulties The Counter do NoiU rassing difficulties. She had no kind friend to council her. Louis still remained cold, distant, and reserved. Thus, week after week, month after month, year after year passed on, and for eight years Louis never approached his youthful spouse with any manifestation of confidence and affection but those with which he would regard a mother or a sister. Maria was a wife but in name. She did not share his apartment or his couch. Though deeply wounded by this inex- plicable neglect, she seldom spoke of it even to her most intimate friends. The involuntary sigh, and the tear which often moistened her cheek, proclaimed her inward sufferings. When Maria first arrived in France, the Countess de Noailles was assigned to her as her lady of honor. She was somewhat advanced in life, haughty and ceremonious, a perfect mis- tress of that art of etiquette so rigidly observed in the French court. Upon her devolved the duty of instructing the dauphiness in all the punctilios of form, then deemed far more im- portant than the requisitions of morality. The following anecdote, related by Madame Cam- pan, illustrates the ridiculous excess to which these points of etiquette were carried. On winter's day, it happened that Maria Antov 1770.J BRIDAL DAYS. 67 Uwofaquetta. nette, who was entirely disrobed in her dress- ing-room, was just going to put on her body linen. Madame, the lady in attendance, held it ready unfolded for her. The dame d'honneur came in. As she was of superior rank, eti- quette required that she should enjoy the priv- ilege of presenting the robe. She hastily slip- ped off her gloves, took the garment, and at that moment a rustling was heard at the door. It was opened, and in came the Duchess d'Or- leans. She now must be the bearer of the gar ment. But the laws of etiquette would not al- low the dame d'honneur to hand the linen di- rectly to the Duchess d'Orleans. It must pass down the various grades of rank to the lowest, and be presented by her to the highest. The linen was consequently passed back again from one to another, till it was placed in the hands of the duchess. She was just on the point of conveying it to its proper destination, when sud- denly the door opened, and the Countess of I rovenoe entered. Again the linen passed from hand to hand, till it reached the hands of the eountess. She, perceiving the uncomfortable position of Maria, who sat shivering with cold, with her hands crossed upon her bosom, with- out stopping to remove her gloves, placed th 58 MARIA ANTCIRFTT* [1770 CoutoM de NoafflM'f ideM of etiquette. AH uMwdote linen upon the shoulders of the danphiness. She, however, was quite unable to restrain her ira patience, and exclaimed, " How disagreeable how tiresome !" Another anecdote illustrates the character of Madame de Noailles, who exerted so powerful an influence upon the destiny of Maria Antoi nette. She was a woman of severe manners, but etiquette was the very atmosphere she breathed ; it was the soul of her existence. The slightest infringement of the rules of etiquette annoyed her almost beyond endurance. "One day," says Madame Campan, " I unintention- ally threw the poor lady into a terrible agony. The queen was receiving, I know not whom some persons just presented, I believe. The ladies of the bed-chamber were behind the queen. I was near the throne, with the two ladies on duty. All was right; at least I thought so. Suddenly I perceived the eyes of Madame de Noailles fixed on mine. She made a sign with her head, and then raised her eyebrows to the top of her forehead, lowered them, raised them again, and then began to make little signs with her hand. From all this pantomime, I could easily perceive that something was not as it should be ; and as I looked about on all side* J770.] BRIDAL DAYS. 89 Maria t wmHtnpt for etiquette. The Coonteat 4* KoailUi BlekBiuned. to find out what it was, the agitation of the countess kept increasing. Maria Antoinette, who perceived all this, looked at me with a wnile. I found means to approach her, and she said to me, in a whisper, ' Let down your lap- pets, or the countess will expire.' All this bus- tle rose from two unlucky pins, which fastened up my lappets, while the etiquette of costume said lappets hanging' d&wn." One can easily imagine the contempt with which Maria, reared in the freedom of the Aus- trian court, would regard these punctilios. She did not refrain from treating them with good- natured but unsparing ridicule, and thus she often deeply offended those stiff elderly ladies, who regarded these trifles, which they had been studying all their lives, with almost religious awe. She gave Madame de Noailtas the nick- name of Madame Etiquette, to the great merri- ment of some of the courtiers and the great in- dignation of others. The more grave and state- ly matrons were greatly shocked by these in- 'liscrstions on the part of the mirth-loving queen On one occasion, when a number of noble la- dies were presented to Maria, the ludicrous ap- pearance of the venerable dowagers, with their .little black bonnets with great wings, and the JO MARIA ANTOIHKTTH. [1770 LndicrouB tr*oe> Rays of tb old ladle* entire of their grotesque dross and evolutions, appealed so impressively to Maria's sense of the ridiculous, that she, with the utmost difficulty, refrained from open laughter. But when a young marchioness, full of fun and frolic, whose office required that she should continue stand- ing behind the queen, being tired of the cere mony, seated herself upon the tloor, and, con- cealed behind the fence of the enormous hoops of the attendant ladies, began to play off all im- aginable pranks with the ladies' hoops, and with the muscles of her own face, the contrast be- tween these childish frolics and the stately dig- nity of the old dowagers so disconcerted the fun-loving Maria, that, notwithstanding all her eilbrts at self-control, she could not conceal an occasional smile. The old ladies were shock- ed and enraged. They declared that she had treated them with derision, that she had no sense of decorum, and that not .^ne of them would ever attend her court again. The next morning a song appeared, full of bitterness which was spread through Paris. The folio w ing was the chorus : " Little queen ! you most not be So saacy with your *wenty yean Toor ill-osed courtiers soon will M Tuo p&M once more the Uarrief* " 1775.] BRIDAL DAYI. 61 BiblU of Maria There**. The daophiMM beoone* npopulw, While Madame do Noailles was thus tortur- ing Maria Antoinette with her exactions, the Abbe de Vermond, on the contrary, was exert- ing all the strong influence he had acquired over her mind to induce her to despise these require- ments of etiquette, and to treat them with open contempt. Maria Theresa, in the spirit of in- dependence which ever characterizes a strong mind, ordinarily lived like any other lady, at- tending energetically to her duties without any ostentation. She would ride through the streets of Vienna unaccompanied by any retinue ; and the other members of the royal family, on all ordinary occasions, dispensed with the pomp and splendors of royalty. Maria Antoinette's edu- cation and natural disposition led her ,to adhere to the customs o the court of her ancestors. Thus was she incessantly annoy ed by the di- verse inlluences crowding upon ner. Follow, ing, however, tiie bent of her own inclinations, he daily made herself more and more unpopu ar with the haughty dames who surrounded her. It was a very great annoyance to Maria that ihe was compelled to dins every day as a pub- 'io spectacle. It must seem almost incredible to an American reader that such a custom could AVMT hare existed in Franoe. The arrangement 62 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1775 Dining In public. How It wa done was this. The different members of the royal faintly dined in different apartments : the king and queen, with such as were admitted to theii table, in one room, the dauphin and dauphiness in another, and other members of tlm royal fam- ily in another. Portions of these rooms were railed off", as in court-houses, police rooms, and menageries, for spectators. The good, honest people from the country, after visiting the men- ageries to see the lions, tigers, and monkeys fed, hastened to the palace to see the king and queen take their soup. They were always especially delighted with the skill with which Louis XV. would strike off the top of his egg with one blow of his fork. This was the most valuable accomplishment the monarch over thirty mill- ions of people possessed, and the one in which he chiefly gloried. The spectators entered at one door and passed out at another. No re- spectably dressed person was refused admis- ion. The consequence was, that during tha dining hour an interminable throng was pour- ing through the apartment; those in the ad- vance crowded slowly along by those in the rear, and all eyes riveted upon the royal feed- er*. The members of the royal family of France, accustomed to this practice from in 1775.] BRIDAL DAYS. 63 Vnaflla. Magnificence of the palM*. fancy, did not regard it at all. To Maria An- toinette it was, however, excessively annoying , and though she submitted to it while she was dauphiness, as soon as she ascended the throne ahe discontinued the practice. The people felt that they were thus deprived of one of their inalienable privileges, and murmurs loud and angry rose against the innovating Austrian. Much of the time of Louis and his bride was passed at the palaces of Versailles. This re* nowned residence of the royal family of France is situated about ten rniles from Paris, in the midst of an extensive plain. Until the middle of the seventeenth century it was only a small village. At this time Louis XIV. determined to erect upon this solitary spot a residence wor- thy of the grandeur of his throne. Seven years were employed in completing the palace, garden, and park. No expense was spared by him or his successors to render it the most magnificent r esidence in Europe. No regal mansion or city oa%> boast a greater display of reservoirs, fount- ains, gardens, groves, cascades, and the various other embellishments and appliances of pleas- are. The situation of the principal palace is on a gentle elevation. Its front and wings are of polished stone, ornamented with statue*, and 64 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1775 Gallery of paintings, statuary, eta. Gorgeous laloon* * Ojionnade of the Doric order is in the center. The grand hall is about two hundred and twenty feet in length, with costly decorations in mar- ble, paintings, and gilding. The other apart- ments are of corresponding size and elegance. This beautiful structure is approached by three magnificent avenues, shaded by stately trees, .eading respectively from Paris, St. Cloud, and Versailles. This gorgeous mansion of the monarohs of France presents a front eight hundred feet in length, and has connected with it fifteen pro- jecting buildings of spacious dimensions, deco- rated with Ionic columns and pilasters, consti- tuting almost a city in itself. One great gal- lery, adorned with statuary, paintings, and arch- itectural embellishments, is two hundred and thirty-two feet long, thirty broad, and thirty- seven high, and lighted by seventeen large win- dows. Many gorgeous saloons, furnished with the most costly splendor, a banqueting-room oi the most spacious dimensions, where luxuri- eus kings have long rioted in midnight revels, an opera house and a chapel, whose beautifully fluted pillars support a dome which is the ad- miration of all who look up upon ito graceful beauty, combine to lend attractions to these /BBSAJU.ES PHONT VIEW, llo t'OUKT YARD. 775.] BRIDAL DAT*. 67 royal abodes such as few other earthly mansions can rival, and none, perhaps, eclipse. The gar dens, in the midst of which this voluptuous res- idence reposes, are equal in splendor to the pa* ace they are intended to adorn. Here the kings of France had rioted in boundless profusion, and every conceivable appliance of pleasure was col- lected in these abodes, from which all thoughts of retribution were studiously excluded. The expense incurred in rearing and embellishing this princely structure has amounted to un- wanted millions. But we mast not forget that* ved, in the comparative quietude of that min- iature palace, of that royal home, to shake off all the restraints of regal state, and to live with a few choice friends in the freedom of a private lady. Unattended she rambled among the flow- ers of the garden ; and in the bright moonlight, leaning upon the arm of a female friend, she forgot, as she gazed upon the moon, and the stars, and all the somber glories of the night, that she was a queen, and rejoiced in those emotions common to every ennobled spirit. Here he often lingered in the midst of congenial joys, till the murmurs of courtiers drew her away to the more exciting, but far less satisfying scene* 72 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1775 Mufe't wM*f ectacatioa. 8he ttompt* to rapply it of fashionable pleasure. She often lamented bitterly, and even with tears, her want of in- tollectual cultivation, and so painfully felt hei inferiority when in the society of ladies of intel- ligence and highly-disciplined minds, that she ought to surround herself with those whose tastes were no more intellectual than her own. " What a resource," she once exclaimed, " amid the casualties of life, is a well-cultivated mind } One can then be one's own companion, and find society in one's own thoughts." Here, in her Little Trianon, she made several unavailing at- tempts to retrieve, by study, those hours of child- hood which had been lost. But it was too late. For a few days, with great zeal and self-denial, she would persevere in secluding herself in the library with her books. But it was in vain for the Queen of France to strive again to become a school-girl. Those days had passed forever. The innumerable interruptions of her station frustrated all her endeavors, and she was com- pelled to abandon the attempt in sorrow ano despair. We know not upon how trivial events the great destinies of the world are suspended; and had the Queen of France possessed a high- ly-disciplined mind had she been familiar wn* the teachings of history, and been capable of 1775.] BRIDAL DAYS. 7fi Uaria'i enemle*. Their mallgnuit dander* inspiring respect by her intellectual attainments, it is tar from impossible that she might have tived and died in peace. But* almost the only aours of enjoyment which shone upon Maria while Queen of France, was when she forgot that she was a queen, and, like a village maid- en, loitered through the gardens and the groves in the midst of which the Little Trianon was embowered. The enemies of Maria had sedulously en- deavored to spread the report through France that she was still in heart an Austrian ; that she loved only the country she had left, and that she had no affection for the country ovei which she was to reign as queen. They falsely and malignantly spread the report that she had changed the name of Little Trianon into Little Vienna. The rumor spread rapidly. It exci- ted great displeasure. The indignant denials of Maria were disregarded. Thus the number of her enemies was steadily increasing Another unfortunate occurrence took place, which rendered her still more unpopular at court Her brother Maximilian, a vain and foolish young man, made a visit to his sister at the court of Versailles, not traveling in his own proper rank, but under an assumed name. It 76 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [177ft VWt of Maximilian. A quarrel about fonts was quite common with princes of the blood- royal, for various reasons, thus to travel. The young Austrian prince insisted that the first visit was due to him from the princes of the roy al family in France. They, on the contrary insisted that, as he was not traveling in his own name, and in the recognition of his own proper rank, it was their duty to regard him as of the character he had assumed, and as this was of a rank inferior to that of a royal prince, it could not be their duty to pay the first visit. The dispute ran high. Maria, seconded by the Abbe Vermoad, took the part of her brother. This greatly offended many of the highest nobility of the realm. It became a family quarrel of greai bitterness. A thousand tongues were busy whispering malicious accusations against Ma- ria. Ribald songs to sully her name were hawk- ed through the streets. Care began to press heavily upon the brow of the dauphiness, an<* orrow to spread its pallor over her cheek. Her high spirit could not brook the humility of en deavoring the refutation of the calumnies urgeu against her. Still, she was too sensitive not to feel them often with the intensest anguish Her husband was comparatively a stranger to her He bowed to her with much civility whea 1775.] BRIDAL DAY*. 77 Unexpected tandorneM of Lmri* they met, but never addressed her with a word or gesture of tenderness, or manifested the least desire to see her alone. One evening, when walking in the garden of Little Trianon, he as- tonished the courtiers, and almost overpowered Maria with delightful emotions, by offering her his arm. This was the most affectionate act with which he had ever approached her Such were the bridal days of Maria Antoinette. 78 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1774 . MlMd with small-pox. Flight of the courtier* CHAPTER III. I~N the year 1774, about four years after the -- marriage of Maria Antoinette and Louis, {he dissolute old king, Louis XV., in his palace at Versailles, surrounded by his courtiers and his lawless pleasures, was taken sick. The disease soon developed itself as the small-pox in its most virulent form. The physicians, know- ing the terror with which the conscience-smitten wvnarch regarded death, feared to inform him f the nature of his disease. "What are these pimples," inquired the king, " which are breaking out all over my body ?" "They are little pustules," was the reply " which require three days in forming, three in suppurating, and three in drying." The dreadful malady which had seized npon the king was soon, however, known throughout the court, and all fled from the infection. The miserable monarch, hated by his subjects, de- pised by his courtiers, and writhing under the aoorpion lash of his own conscience, was left tc 1774.) MARIA ENTHRONED. The MirchloneM da Pompadour. Her dissolute groan and die alone. It was a horrible termi- nation of a most loathsome life. The vices of Louis XV. sowed the seeds of the French Revolution. Two dissolute women, notorious on the page of history, each, in their turn, governed him and France. The Marchion- ess du Pompadour was his first favorite. Am- bitious, shrewd, unprincipled, and avaricious, she held the weak-minded king entirely under her control, and spread throughout the court an influence so contaminating that the whole empire was infected with the demoralization. Upon this woman he squandered almost the rev- enues of the kingdom. The celebrated Pare au Cerf, the scene of almost unparalleled voluptu- ousness, was reared for her at an expense of twenty millions of dollars. After her charmt had faded, she still contrived to retain her po- litical influence over the pliant monarch, until she died, at the age of forty-four, universally de- tested. Madame du Barri, of whom we have before ipoken, succeeded the Marchioness du Pompa- dour in this post of infamy. The king lavished upon her, in the short space of eight years, more than ten millions of dollars. For her he erect- d the Little Trianon, with its gardens, parks, 90 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1774 PahMehery of Louis XV. He wpundan the pnbrtc iwreM* and fountains, a temple of pleasure dedicated to lawless passion. The king had totally neg- lected the interests of his majestic empire, con- secrating every moment of time to his own sens- ual gratification. The revenues of the realm were squandered in the profligacy and caroua- ings of his court. The people were regarded merely as servants who were to toil to minister to the voluptuous indulgence of their masters. They lived in penury, that kings, and queens^ and courtiers might revel in all imaginable magnificence and luxury. This was the ulti- mate cause of that terrible outbreak which eventually crushed Maria Antoinette beneath the ruins of the French monarchy. Louis XV., in his shameless debaucheries, not only expend- ed every dollar upon which ^he could lay hit hands, but at his death left the kingdom in- volved in a debt of four hundred millions of dol- lars, which was to be paid from the scanty earn- ings of peasants and artisans whose condition was hardly superior to that of the enslaved I*" borers on the plantations of Carolina and Lou- isiana. But I am wandering from my story. In a chamber of the palace of the Little Tri- anon we left the king dying of the confluent mall-pox. The courtiers have fled in oonster- 1774.1 MARIA ENTHRONED. SI Wtnetan Tba Uatp rt the nation. It is the hour of midnight, the 10th of May, 1774. The monarch of France is alone as he struggles with the king of terrors. No attendants linger around him. Two old wom- en, in an adjoining apartment, occasionally look in upon the mass of corruption upon the royal couch, which had already lost every semblance of humanity. The eye is blinded. The swoll- en tongue can not articulate. What thought of remorse or terror may be rioting through the soul of the dying king, no one knows, and no one cares. A lamp flickers at the window, which is a signal to those at a safe distance that the king still lives. Its feeble flame is to be extinguished the moment life departs. The courtiers, from the windows of the distant pal- ace, watch with the most intense solicitude the glimmering of that midnight taper. Should the king recover, they dreaded the reproach of hav- ing deserted him in the hour of his extremity They hope, so earnestly, that he may not live. Should he die, they are anxious to be the first in their congratulations to the new king and queen. The hours of the night linger wearily away as expectant courtiers gaze impatiently through the gloom upon that dim torch. Th horses are harnessed hi the carriages, and wait- 116 82 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1774 Death of Louis XV. Indecent hacte of the eowOerm. ing at the doors, that the courtiers, without tha loss of a moment, may rush to do homage to the new sovereign. The clock was tolling the hour of twelve at night when the lamp was extinguished. The miserable king had ceased to breathe. The en- suing scene no peri can delineate or pencil paint. The courtiers, totally forgetful of French eti- quette, rushed down the stairs, crowded into their carriages, and the silence of night was dis- turbed by the clattering of the horses' hoofs, as they were urged, at their utmost speed, to the apartments of the dauphin. There Maria Antoinette and Louis, with a fev family friends, were awaiting the anticipated in- telligence of the death of their grandfather the king. Though neither of them could have cher- ished any feelings of affection for the dissolute old monarch, it was an hour to awaken in the soul emotions of the deepest melancholy. Death had approached, in the most frightful form, the spot on earth where, probably, of all others, he wa luost dreaded. Suddenly a noise was heard, as of thunder, in the ante-chamber of the dauphin. It was the rush of the courtiers from the dead monarch to bow at the shrine of the new di- peooors of wealth and power. This extraordi- 1774.J MARIA ENTHRONED. 88 Eo*>lofU of the jouiif king and qoeea. Homage of th eovrttor*. aary tumult, in the silence of midnight, con- veyed to Maria and Louis the first intelligence that the crown of France had fallen upon their brows. Louis was then twenty -four years of age, .modest, timid, and conscientious. Maria was twenty, mirthful, thoughtless, and shrink- ing from responsibility. They were both over- whelmed, and, falling upon their knees, exclaim- ed, with gushing tears, " O God ! guide u, protect us ; we are too young to govern." The Countess de Noailles was the first to sa- lute Maria Antoinette as Queen of France. She entered the private saloon in which they were sitting, and requested their majesties to enter the grand audience hall, where the princes and all the great officers of state were anxious to do homage to their new sovereigns. Maria Antoinette, leaning upon her husband's arm, and with her handkerchief held to her eyes, which were bathed in tears, received these first expressions of loyalty. There was, however, not an individual found to mourn for the de- parted king. No one was willing to endanger his safety by any act of respect toward his re- mains. The laws of France required that the chief surgeon should open the body of the de- parted monarch and embalm it, and that the &4 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1774 Bwttl of Lovfc XT. Th king and qneen leave VerM0tM first gentleman of the bed-chamber should hold the head while the operation was performed. ** You will see the body properly ern 'mod?' said the gentleman of the bed-chamber to the surgeon. " (Certainly," was the reply ; " and you wil) hold the head ?" Each bowed politely to the other, without the exchange of another word. The body, unopen- ed and unemnalmed, was placed by a few un- der servants in a coffin, which was filled with the spirits of wine, and hurried, without an at- tendant mourner, to the tomb. Such was the earthly end of Louis XV. In an hour ho was forgotten, or remembered but to be despised. At four o'clock of that same .morning, the young king and queen, with the whole court in retinue, left Versailles, in their carriages, lor Choisy The morning was cold, dark, and cheerless. The awful death of the king, and the succeeding excitements, had impressed the company with gloom. Maria Antoinette rode in the carriage with her husband, and with one or two other members of the royal family. For wme time they rode in silence, Maria, a child of impulse, weeping profusely from the emo- tion* which moved her soi But, ere long, tht 1774.] MARIA ENTHRONED. 85 IVe coronation. Enthusiasm of the people morning dawned. The sun rose bright and clear over the hills of France, and the whole beautiful landscape glittered in the light f the most lovely of spring mornings. Insensibly the gloom of the mind departed with the, glmn of night. Conversation commenced. The mourn- ful past was forgotten in anticipation of the bright future. Some jocular remark of the young king's sister elicited a general burst of laughter, when, by common consent, they wiped away their tears, banished all funereal k>nra tlemen ; allow me the pleasure of taking a glass of wine with you." Thus merrily he ascended the cart, and beguiled the ride from the prison to the guillotine with the most careless pleas- antries. Gayly tripping up the steps, he placed himself in the fatal instrument, and a smile wa upon his lips, and mirthful words were falling upon the ears of the executioners, when the slide fell, and he was silent in death. That soul must indeed be ignoble which can thus enter the dread unseen of futurity. There is no end to these acts of injustice in- flicted upon the queen. The influences which had ever surrounded her had made her very fond of dress and gayety. She was devoted to a life of pleasure, and was hardly conscious that there was any thing else to live for. In fetes, balls, theaters, operas, and masquerades, she passed night after night. Such was the only occupation of her life. The king, on the con- trary, had no taste for any of these amusements. Uncompanionable and retiring, he lived with his books, and in his workshop making trinkets for children. Always retiring to rest at the early hour of eleven o'clock precisely, he left the queen to pursue her pleasures until the lawn of the morning, unattended by him. It 1775.] MARIA ENTHROMKD. 91 Maria tmprwtence. Night dTentnr* In a hackney och, was very imprudent in Maria Antoinette thus to ex prise herself to the whispers of calumny. She was young, inexperienced, and ha/* no ju- dicious advisers. One evening, she had been out in her carriage, and was returning at rather a late hour, the lady of the palace being with her, when her car- riage broke down at her entrance into Paris. The queen and the duchess were both masked and, stepping into an adjoining shop, as they were unknown, the queen ordered one of the footmen to call a common hackney-coach, and they, both entering, drove to the opera-house, with very much the same sense of the ludi- crous in being found in so plebeian a vehicle, as a New York lady would feel on passing through Broadway in a hand-cart or on a wheel-barrow. The fun-loving queen was so entertained with the whimsical adventure, that she could not re- frain from exclaiming, as soon as she entered the opera-house, to the intimate friends she met there, " Only think ! I came to the opera in a hacknoy -coach ! Was it not droll ? was it not droll?" The news of the indiscretion spread. All Paris was full of the adventure. Rumor, with her thousand tongues, added innumerable rabelliflhments. Neither the delicacy nor the 92 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1776 The jardene of Marly. Their nnriraled splendor dignity of the queen would allow her serious- ly to attempt the refutation of the calumny that, neglected by her husband, she had been out in disguise to meet a nobleman renowned fcr Ks gallantries. Nothing can be more irksome than the fri- volities of fashionable life. To spend night after night, of months and years, in an incessant round of the same trivial gayeties, so exhaust* all the susceptibilities of enjoyment that life it- self becomes a burden. Louis XIV. had crea- ted for himself a sort of elysium of voluptuous- ness in the celebrated gardens of Marly. Spread out upon the gentle declivity of an extended hili were grounds embellished in the highest style of art, and intended to rival the garden of Eden itself in every conceivable^ attraction. Pavil- ions of gorgeous architecture crowned the sum- mit of the hill. Flowers, groves, enchanting walks, and statues of most voluptuous beauty, fountains, lakes, cascades foaming over chan- nels of whitest marble all the attractions of nature and art were combined to realize the most fanciful dreams of splendor and luxury Pleasure was the only god here adored ; but, like all false gods, he but rewarded hia votaries with satiety and disgust. 1775.] MARIA ENTHRONED. 93 Uria'i vicitfi to Marly. H0*rtlw guyety The queen, with her brilliant retinue, made monthly visit to these palaces and pleasure- grounds, and with music, illumination, and da aces, endeavored to beguile life of its jareb. A noisy concourse, glittering with diamonds and til the embellishments of wealth, thronged tue embowered avenues and the sumptuous halk And while the young, in the mazes of the dance, and in the uneasy witchery of whining and los- ing hearts, were all engrossed, the old, in the still deeper but ignoble passion of desperate gaming, forgot gliding time and approaching; eternity. But the spirit of Maria was soon weary of this heartless gayety. Each succeed- ing visit became more irksome, and at last, in inexpressible disgust with the weary monotony of fashionable dissipation, she declared that she would never enter the gardens of Marly again. But she must have some occupation. Wnat shall she do to give wings to the lagging hours ? " Has your majesty," timidly suggests a lady ef the court, " ever seen the sun rise ?" " The sun rise !" exclaimed the queen ; " no, never ! What a beautiful sight it must be ' What a romantic adventure ! we will go to- morrow morning." The plan was immediate y arranged. Th 96 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1775 Bnnrto at Marty. More food for ilamloi prosaic king would take no part in it. He pre- ferred quietly to slumber upon his pillow. A few hours after midnight, the queen, with sev. eral gentlemen, and her attendant ladies, all in nigh glee, left the palace in their carriages to ascend the lofty eminence of the gardens of Marly to witness the sublime spectacle. Tnou- sands of the humbler classes had already left their beds and commenced their daily toil, as the brilliant cavalcade swept by them on this novel excursion. It was, however, a freak so strange, so unaccountable, so contrary to any thing ever known before, that this nocturnal party became the theme of universal conversa- tion. It was whispered that there must have been some mysterious wickedness connected with an adventure so marvelous. Groups upon the Boulevards inquired, " Why is the queen thus frolicking at midnight without hr hus- band ?" In a few days a ballad appeared, winch was sung by the vilest lips in the warehouses of infamy, full of the most malignant charge* gainst the queen. Maria Antoinette was im- prudent, very imprudent, and that was her only wime. Still, the young queen must have amuse- ment*. She is weary of parade and solendor 1773.J MARIA ENTHRONED. 97 Ample habita of the queen. Horror of the courtiers and dowager*. and seeks in simplicity the novelty of enjoyment Dressed in white muslin, with a plain straw hat, and a little switch in her hand, she might often be seen walking on foot, followed by a single serv- ant, through the embowered paths which sur- rounded the Petit Trianon. Through lanes and oy-ways she would chase the butterfly, and pick flowers free as a peasant girl, and lean over the fences to chat with the country maids as they milked the cows. This entire freedom from re- straint was' etiquette in the court of Vienna ; it was regarded as barbarism in the court of Versailles. The courtiers were amazed at con- duct so unqueenly. The ceremony-stricken dowagers were .shocked. Paris, France, Eu- rope, were filled with stories of the wayward- ness, and eccentricities, and improprieties of tne young queen. The loud complaints were poured so incessantly in the ear of Maria The- resa, that at last she sent a special embassador to Versailles, in disguise, as a spy upon her daughter. He reported, " The queen is impru- dent, that is all." There happened, in a winter of unusual in- clemency, a heavy fall of snow. It was a rare light at Versailles. Maria Antoinette, remind- ed of the merry sleigh rides she had enjoyed in 117 fco MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1775 Sleigh riding. Blind man's buff and other ganio4 the more northern home of her childhood, wag eager to renew the pleasure. Some antiquated sledges were found in the stables. New ones, gay and graceful, were constructed The hors- es, with nodding plumes, and gorgeous capari- sons, and tinkling bells, dazzled the eyes of the Parisians as they swept through the Champs Elys'3es, drawing their loads of lords and ladies enveloped in furs. It was a new amusement an innovation. Envious and angry lips de- clared that "the Austrian, with an Austrian heart, was intruding the customs of Vienna upon Paris." These ungenerous complaints reached the ear of the queen, and she instantly reiin quished the amusement. Still the queen is weary. Time hangs heav- ily upon her hands. All the pleasures of the court have palled upon her appetite, and she seeks novelty. She introduces into the retired apartments of the Little Trianon, " blind man's buff," " fox and geese," and other similar game*, and joins heartily in the fun and the frolic. " A queen playing blind man's buff!" Simpletons- and the world is full of simpletons raised their hands and eyes in affected horror. Private dra- matic entertainments were got up to relieve the tedium of unemplrved time The queen 1775.) MARIA ENTHRONED. 99 Dnmatie entertainment*. Increwing affection of the kia& learns her part, and appears in the character and costume of a peasant girl. Her genius excites much admiration, and, intoxicated with this new pleasure, she repeats the entertainment, and alike excels in all characters, whether comic or tragic. The number of spectators is gradually increased. Louis is not exactly pleased to see his queen transformed into an actress, even in the presence only of the most intimate friends of the court. Half jocosely, half seriously, umid the rounds of applause with which the royal actress is greeted, he hisses. It was deemed extremely derogatory to the dignity of the queen that she should indulge in such amusements, and every gossiping tongue in Paris was soon magnifying her indiscretions. Eight years had now passed away since the narriage of Maria Antoinette, and still she was in name only, the wife of Louis. She was still a young lady, for he had never yet approached her with any familiarity with which he would not approach any young lady of his court. But about this time the king gradually manifested more tenderness toward her. He began really and tenderly to love her. With tears of joy, he confided te her friends the groat change which had taken place in his conduct. The va- 100 MAR A ANTOINETTE. [177& Efforts to alienate the king's affection*. Agitation of the queen. rious troubles and embarrassments which began now to lower about the throne and to darken their path, bound their sympathies more strong- ly together. Strenuous efforts were made to alienate the king from the queen by exciting hia jealousy. Maria was accused of the grossest immoralities, and insinuations to her injury were ever whispered into the ear of the king. One morning Madame Campan entered the queen's chamber when she was in bed. Sev- eral letters were lying upon the bed by her side, and she was weeping as though her heart woulc 3 _ireak. She immediately exclaimed, covering ,ier swollen eyes with her hands, " Oh ! I wish lhat I were dead! I wish that I were dead! The wretches ! the monsters ! what have I done that they should treat me thus ! it would be better to kill me at once." Then, throwing her arms around the neck of Madame Campan, she burst more passionately into tears. All attempts to console her were unavailing. Neither was dhe willing to confide the cause of her heart- rending grief. After some time she regained her usual serenity, and said, with an attempted mile, " I know that I have made you very un- comfortable this morning, and I must set your poor beart at ease. You must hare seen, on MARIA ENTHRONED. IU1 Maria't children. Royal vlnton some fine summer's day, a black cloud suddenly appear, and threaten to pour down upon the country and lay it in wast?. The lightest wind ilrives it away, and the blue sky and serene Breather are restored. This is just the image of what has happened to me this morning." Notwithstanding, however, these efforts ?f the malignant, the king became daily more and more strongly attached to the queen. In the embarrassments which were gathering around him, he felt the support of her energetic mind, and looked to her counsel with continually in- creasing confidence. It was about nine years after their marriage when their first child waa born. Three others were subsequently added to their family. Two, however, of the children, a son and a daughter, died in early childhood, leav- ing two others, Maria Theresa and Louis Charles, to share and to magnify those woes which subse- quently overwhelmed the whole royal family. During all these early years of their reign, Versailles was their favorite and almost constant abode. They were visited occasionally by rnon- archs from the other courts of Europe, whom they entertained with the utmost display of royal grandeur. Bonfires and illuminations turned night into day in the groves and garden* 102 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1775 Lxtravagant expenditure*. Riling dUeontento cf those gorgeous palaces. Thousands were feasted in boundless profusion. Millions of money were expended in the costly amusements of kings, and queens, and haughty nobles. The people, by whose toil the revenues of the king- dom were furnished, looked from a humble dis- tance upon the glittering throng, gliding through the avenues, charioted in splendor, and now and then a deep thinker, struggling against poverty and want, would thus soliloquize : " Why do we thus toil to minister to the useless luxury of these our imperious masters ? Why must I eat black bread, and be clothed in the coarsest garments, that these lords and ladies may glitter in jewelry and revel in luxury? Why must my children toil like bond slaves through life, that the children of these nobles may be clothed in purple and fine linen, and fare sumptuously every day ?" The multitude were bewildered by the glare of royalty. But here and there a sullen fish-woman, leading her ragged, hajf- starved children, would mumble and mutter, and curse the "Austrian," as the beautifu: queen swept by in her gorgeous equipage These discontents and portentous murmurs were spreading rapidly, when neither king, queen, no? courtiers dreamed of their existence 1775.J MARIA ENTHRONED. 103 L* Ff ette and Franklin. The people begin to count the eo*ta A few had heard of America, its freedom, its equality, its fame even for the poorest, its com- petence. La Fayette had gone to help the Re- publicans crush the crown and the throne. Franklin was in Paris, the embassador from America, in garb and demeanor as simple and frugal as the humblest citizen, and all Paris gazed upon him with wonder and admiration. A few bold spirits began to whisper, " Let us also have no king." The fires of a volcano were kindling under the whole structure of French society. It was time that the mighty fabric of corruption should be tumbled into the dust. The splendor and the extravagance of these royal festivities added but fuel to the flame. The people began to compute the expense of bonfires, palaces, equipages, crown jewels, and courtiers. It is extremely impertinent, Maria thought and said, for the people to meddle in matters with which they have no concern. Slaves have no right to question the conduct of their masters. It was the misfortune of her education, and of the influences which ever surrounded her, that he never imagined that kings and queens were treated for any other purpose than to live in luxury. The Empress Catharine II. of Russia, a? these discontents were xoud and threatening, 104 MARIA ANTOINETTE. ]1775 Letter from the Empress Catharina The clouds thicken wrote to Maria Antoinette a letter, in which she says, " Kings and queens ought to proceed in their career undisturbed by the cries of the people, as the moon pursues her course unim- peded by the howling of dogs." This was then the spirit of the throne. And now the days of calamity began to grow darker. Intrigues were multiplied, involving Maria in interminable difficulties. There were instinctive presentiments of an approaching storm. Death carne into the royal palace, and distorted the form of her eldest son, and by Angering tortures dragged him to the grave. And then her little daughter was taken from her. Maria watched at the couch of suffering and death with maternal anguish. The glow- ing heart of a mother throbbed within the bosom of Maria. The heartlessness and emptiness of all other pursuits had but given intensity to the fervor of a mother's love. Though but twenty- three years of age, she had drained every cup of pleasure to its dregs. And now she began to anter upon a path evarv year more dark, dreary, and desolate. 1786. 1 THK DIAMOND NECKLACE. 105 tUawrt of Talleyrand. Tb Cunflnal de Rotum. CHAPTER IV. THE DIAMOND NECKLACE. ABOUT this time there occurred an event which, though apparently trivial, involved consequences of the most momentous import- ance. It was merely the fradulent purchase of a necklace, by a profligate woman, in the name of the queen. The circumstances were such as to throw all France into agitation, and Europe was full of the story. " Mind that miserable affair of the necklace," said Talleyrand ; " I should be nowise surprised if it should overturn the French monarchy." To understand this mysterious occurrence, we must first allude to two very important characters implicated in the conspiracy. The Cardinal de Rohan, though one of tho highest dignitaries of the Church, and of the most illustrious rank, was a young man of vain and shallow mind, of great profligacy of char- acter, and perfectly prodigal in squandering, in etentatious pomp, all the revenues within his reach. He had been sent an embassador to the 106 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1786. Rohan's emuggling operations. He U ditgraeed. court of Vienna. Surrounding himself with a retinue of spendthrift gentlemen, he endeavored to dazzle the Austrian capital with moro than regal magnificence. Expending six or seven hundred thousand dollars in the course of a fev months, he soon became involved in inextricable embarrassments. In the extremity of his dis- tress, he took advantage of his official station, and engaged in smuggling with so much effront- ery that he almost inundated the Austrian cap- ital with French goods. Maria Theresa was extremely displeased, and, without reserve, ex- pressed her strong disapproval of his conduct, both as a bishop and as an embassador. The cardinal was consequently recalled, and, disap- pointed and mortified, he hovered around the court of Versailles, where he was treated with the utmost coldness. He was extremly anxious again to bask in the beams of royal favor. But the queen indignantly repelled all his advances. His proud spirit was nettled to the quick by his disgrace, and he was ripe for any desperate ad- venture to retrieve his ruined fortunes. There was, at the same time, at Versailles. ft very beautiful woman, the Countess Lamotte She traced her lineage to the kings of France, and, by her vices, struggled to sustain a style 1786.] THE DIAMOND NECKLACE. 107 rhe Countesa Lamotte. The qnecn't jewelry of ostentatious gentility. She was consumed by an insatiable thirst for recognized rank and wealth, and she had no conscience to interfere, in the slightest degree, with any means which might lead to those results. Though somewhat notorious, as a woman of pleasure, to the court- iers who flitted around the throne, the queen had never seen her face, and had seldom heard even her name. Versailles was too much thronged with such characters for any one to attract any special attention. Maria Antoinette, in her earlier days, had been extremely fond of dress, and particularly of rich jewelry. She brought with her from Vienna a large number of pearls and diamonds. Upon her accession to the throne, she received, of course, all the crown jewels. Louis XV. had also presented her with all the jewels belonging to his daughter, the dauphiness, who had re- cently died, and also with a very magnificent collar of pearls, of a single row, the smallest of which was as large as a filbert. The king, her Jlusband, had, not long before, presented her with a set of rubies and diamonds of a fine wa- ter, and with a pair of bracelets which cost forty thousand dollars. Boehmer, the crown jeweler, !ad collected, at a great expense, six pear- form- 108 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [178ft Bthmer, the crown jeweler. The diamond ear ring* ed diamonds, of prodigious size. They were perfectly matched, and of the finest water. They were arranged as ear-rings. He offered them to the queen for eighty thousand dollars. The young and royal bride could not resist the de- sire of adding them, costly as they were, to her casket ol gems. She, however, economically removed two of the diamonds which formed the tops of the clusters, and replaced them by two of her own. The jeweler consented to this ar- rangement, and received the reduced price of seventy-two thousand dollars, to be paid in equal installments for five years, from the private purse of the queen. Still the queen felt rather uneasy in view of her unnecessary purchase. Murmurs of her extravagance began to reach her ears. Satiated with gayety and weary of jewels, as a child throws aside its play-things, Maria Antoinette lost all fondness for her costly treasures, and began to seek novelty in the ut- most simplicity of attire, and in the most art- less joys of rural life. Her gorgeous dresses hung neglected in their wardrobes. Her gems, "of purest ray serene," slept in the darknesc of the unopened casket. The queen had be- come a mother, and all those warm and nobla affections which had been diffused and \vast*d 1786.) THK DIAMOND NLCKLACE. 109 Change In the queon'i life. The dlond necklM* apon frivolities, were now concentrated with in- tensest ardor upon her children. A new era had dawned upon Maria Antoinette. Her soul, Dy nature exalted, was beginning to find ob- jects worthy of its energies. Rapidly she was groping her way from the gloom of the most wretched of all lives a life of pleasure and of self-indulgence to the true and ennobling hap- piness ol oenevolence and self-sacrifice. Bcehmer, .the jeweler, unaware of the great change which had taken place in the cha-acter of the queen, resolved to form for her the most magnificent necklace which was ever seen in Europe. He busied himself for several years in collecting the most valuable diamonds circu- lating in commerce, and thus composed a neck- lace of several rows, whose attractions, he hoped, would be irresistible to the queen. In the pur chase of these brilliant gems, the jeweler had expended far more than his own fortune. For many of them he owed large sums, and his only hope of paying these debts was in effecting a ale to the queen. Boehmer requested Madame Campan to in- form the queen what a beautiful necklace he had arranged, hoping that she might express a desire to gee it This, however, Madame Cam- 110 MARIA ANTOIKETTE. The queen inspects the necklace. Answer of their majestic* pan declined doing, as she did not wish to tempi the queen to incur the expense of three hundred and twenty thousand dollars, the price of the glittering bawble. Bcehmer, after endeavoring for some time in vain to get the gems exposed to the eye of the queen, induced a courtier high in rank to show the superb necklace to his maj- esty. The king, now loving the queen most tenderly, wished to see her adorned with this unparalleled ornament, and sent the case to the queen for her inspection. Maria Antoinette re- plied, that she had already as many beautiful diamonds as she desired ; that jewels were now worn but seldom at court ; that she could not think it right to encourage so great an expense for such ornaments; and that the money the} would cost would be much better expended in building a man-of-war. The king concurred in this prudent decision, and the diamonds were returned to the jeweler from their majesties with this answer : " We have more need of ships than of diamonds." Bcehmer was in great trouble, and knew not what to do. He spent a year in visiting the other courts of Europe, hoping to induce some of the sovereigns to purchase his neck] ace, but hi vain Almost in despair, h returned again 1786.] THE DIAMOND NECKLACE. Ill ovhmer'i embarrassment His tntnrrlew with the qroeea to Versailles, and proposed the king should take it, and pay for it partly in instalments and partly in life annuities. The king mentioned it again to the queen. She replied, that if his majesty wished to purchase the necklace, and keep it for their daughter, he might do so. But she declared that she herself should never be will- ing to wear it, for she could not expose herself to those censures for extravagance which she knew would be lavished upon her. The jeweler complained loudly and bitterly of his misfortune. The necklace having beon exhibited all over Europe, his troubles were a matter of general conversation. After seveial months of great perplexity and anxiety, Boehmer succeeded in gaining an audience of the queen. Passionately throwing himself upon his knees before her, clasping his hands and bursting into tears, he exclaimed, " Madame, I am disgraced and ruined if you do not purchase my necklace. I can not out- Ihre my misfortunes. When I go hence I shaL throw myself into the river." The queen, extremely displeased, said, " Rise, Bcehmer ! I do not like these rhapsodies ; hon- *st men have no occasion to fall upon their knees to make known their requests. If you 112 MARIA AI-TOINETI*. n qoMB't remark*. Bhmei J ooafuMoa. were to destroy yourself, 1 should regret you as a madman in whom I had taken an interest, but I should not be responsible for that misfor- tune. I not only never ordered the article whiofc eauses your present despair, but, whenever you have talked to me about fine collections of jew- els, I have told you that I should not add ft ur diamonds to those I already possessed 1 told you myself that I declined taking the necklace. The king wished to give it to me ; I refused him in the same manner. Then never mention it to me again. Divide it, and endeavor to sel] it piecemeal, and do not drown yourself 1 arn very angry with you for acting this scene of de- spair in my presence, and before this child. Let me never see you behave thus again. Go !" Brehmer, overwhelmed Avith confusion, re- tired, and the queen, oppressed with a multi- tude of gathering cares, for some months thought ao more of him or of his jewels. One day the queen was reposing listlessly upon her oouoj., with Madame Campan and other ladies of hon- or about her, when, suddenly addressing Ma- dame Campan, she inquired, " Have you ever heard what poor Boehmer did with his unfortunate necklace ?" "I have heard nothing of it since he left 17SO.J TmE DIAMOND NECKLACE. 113 Alleged dbpoMl of the necklace. Present to the ktarfi . you," was the reply, " though I often meet b ; m." " I should really like to know how the unfcr anate man got extricated from his embarrass- nents," rejoined the queen ; " and, when you aext see him, I wish you would inquire, as if from your own interest in the affair, without any allusion to me, how he disposed of the ar- ticle." In a few days Madame Campan met Been- mer, and, in reply to her interrogatories, he in- .ormed her that the sultan at Constantinople had purchased it for the favorite sultana. The queen was highly gratified with the good for tune of the jeweler, and yet thought it verj strange how the grand seignior should have purchased his diamonds at Paris. Matters con- tinued in this state for some time, until the baptism of the Duke d'Angouleme, Maria An- Dinette's infant son. The king made his idol- ized boy a baptismal present of a diamond ep- aulette and buckles, which he purchased of Boeh- mer, and directed him to deliver to the queen As the jeweler presented them, he slipped into the queen's hand a letter, in the form of a peti- tion, containing the following expression : " 1 am happy to see your majesty in the pm- 118 114 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [17b6 SoBhmer'i note to the queen. The queen I perplexity Cession of the finest diamonds in Europe ; and I entreat your majesty not to forget me." The queen read this strange note aloud, again and again exclaiming, " What does the man mean ? He must be insane !" She quietly lighted the note at a wax taper which was stand- ing near her, and burned it, remarking that it was not worth keeping. Afterward, as she re- flected more upon the enigmatical nature of the communication, she deeply regretted that she had not preserved the note. She pondered the matter deeply and anxiously, and at last said to Madame Campan, " The next time you see that man, I wish that you would tell him that I have lost all taste for diamonds; it I never shall buy aii- other as long as 1 live ; and that, if I had any money to spare, I should expend it in purchasing lands to enlarge the grounds at St. Cloud." A few days after this, Biehmer called upon Madame Campan at her country house, ex tremely uneasy at not having received any an- iwer from the queen, and anxiously inquired if Madame Campan had no commission to him from her majesty. Ma laire Campan faithfully repeated to mm ail that th* queen had requested her to say. THE DIAMOND NECKLACE. intnrrlpw with Madame Campan. The necklace again " Hut," rejoined Bcehmer, "the answer to the lette r I presented to her ! To whom must 1 ap- ply for that?" " To no on," was the reply ; " her majesty burned your memorial, without even compre hem lino; its meaning." " Ah, marlame !" exclaimed the- man, trem bling with agitation, "that is impossible; the queen knows that she has money to pay me." "Money, M. Boehmer !" replied the lady, " your last accounts against the queen were dis- charged long ago." "And are you not in the secret?" he rejoined. " The queen owes me three hundred thousand dollars, and I am ruined by her neglect to pay me." " Three hundred thousand dollars !" exclaim- ed Madame Campan, in amazement ; " man, you have lost your senses ! For what does she owe you that enormous sum ?" " For the necklace, madame," replied the jeweler, now pale and trembling with the ap- prehension that he had been deceived. "The necklace again!" said Madame Canv- pan. " How long is the queen to be teased about tija.t necklace? Did not you yourself tell me that yor had sold it at Constantinople ?" 116 MAR A ANTOINETTB. [1786 The drdtaal de Rohai^ ^adicatton* of plot " The queen," added Boehmer, " requested me to make that reply to all who inquired upon the subject, for she was not willing to have it known that she had made the purchase. She, however, had determined to have the necklace, and sent the Cardinal de Rohan to me to take it in her name." " You are utterly deceived, Boshmer," Ma- dame Campan replied ; "the queen knows noth- ing about your necklace. She never speaks oven to the Cardinal de Rohan, and there is no man at court more strongly disliked by her." "You may depend upon it, madame, that you are deceived yourself," rejoined the jeweler. " She must hold private interviews with the cardinal, for she gave to the cardinal six thou- sand dollars, which he paid me on account, and which he assured me he saw her take from the little porcelain secretary neyt the fire-place in her boudoir." " Did the cardinal himsell assure you of this?" inquired Madame Campan. " Yes, madame," was the reply. " What a detestable plot ! There is not one word of truth in it ; and you have been mi sera- Wy deceived." " I confess," Bcehmer rejoined, now trembling 1786.] THE DIAMOND NECKLACE. 117 Boehmer'i perplexity The cardinal's embarraMmeftt In every joint, " that I have felt very anxious about it for some time ; for the cardinal assured me that the queen would wear the necklace on Whitsunday. I was, however, alarmed in see- ing that she did not wear it, and that induced me to write the letter to her majesty. But what shall I do?" " Go immediately co Versailles, and lay the whole matter before the king. But you have been extremely culpable, as crown jeweler, in acting in a matter of such great importance without direct orders from the king or queen, or their accredited minister." " I have not acted," the unhappy man replied, "without direct orders. I have now in my oossession all the promissory notes, signed by the queen herself; and I have been obliged tr> show those notes to several bankers, my credit ors, to induce them to extend the time of my payments." Instead, however, of following Madame Cam pan's judicious advice, Bcehmer, half delirious with solicitude, went directly to the cardinal, and informed him of all that had transpired The cardinal appeared very much embarrassed; asked a few questions, and said but little. He, however, wrote in his ^iary the following mem* lib MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1786 The queen's amazement orandum: "On this day, August 3, Bcehmei went to Madame Campan's country-house, and he told him that the queen had never had hi* necklace, and that he had been cheated." Bcehmer was almost frantic with terror, for the loss of the necklace was his utter and irre- mediable ruin. Finding no relief in his inter- view with the cardinal, he hastened to Little Trianon, and sent a message to the queen that Madame Cam pan wished him to see her imme- diately. The queen, who knew nothing of the occurrences we have just related, exclaimed, " That man is surely mad. I have nothing to gay to him, and 1 will not see him." Madame Campan, however, immediately called upon the queen, for she was very much alarmed by what he had heard, and related to her the whole oc- currence. The queen was exceedingly amazed and perplexed, and feared that it was some deep-laid plot to involve her in difficalties. Sha questioned Madame Carnpan very minutely in reference to every particular of the interview, and insisted upon her repeating the conversa- tion over and over again. They then ^ ent im- mediately to the king, and narrated to him the whole affair. He, aware of the many efforts had been made to traduce the character 1786.] TUB DIAMOND NECKLAOB 119 The cardinal before the king and qneen. His &g UQn& of Maria Antoinette, and to expose her to pub- lic contumely, was at once convinced that it was a treacherous plot of the cardinal in revenge for his neglect at court. The king instantly sent a command for the cardinal to meet him and the queen in the king's closet. He was, apparently, anticipating the summons, for he, without delay, appeared be- fore them in all the pomp of his pontifical robes, but was nevertheless so embarrassed that he could with difficulty articulate a sentence. " You have purchased diamonds of Bcehmer ? n inquired the king. " Yes, sire," was the trembling reply " What have you done with them ?" the king added. " I thought," said the cardinal, '* that they had been delivered to the queen." " Who commissioned you to make tills pur- chase?" " The Countess Lamotte," was tne reply. "She handed me a letter from the queen re- questing me to obtain the necklace for her. I fcnily thought that I was obeying her majesty'* wishes, and doing ber a favor, by taking this business upon myself." " How could you imagine, sir," indignantly 120 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1786 The queen's Indignation. The forged totter interrupted the queen, " that I should have se- lected you for such a purpose, when I have not even spoken to you for eight years ? and how could you suppose that I should have acted through the mediation of such a character as the Countess Lamotte ?" The cardinal was in the most violent agita- tion, and, apparently hardly knowing what he said, replied, u I see plainly that I have been duped. I will pay for the necklace myself. I suspected no trick in the affair, and am ex- tremely sorry that I have had any thing to do with it." He then took a letter from his pocket direct- ed to the Countess Lamotte, and signed with the queen's name, requesting her to secure the purchase of the necklace. The king and quoen looked at the letter, and instantly pronounced it a forgery. The king then took from his own pocket a letter addressed to the jeweler Bceh- mer, and, handing it to De Rohan, said, " Are you the author of that letter ?" The cardinal turned pale, and, leaning upon his hand, appeared as though he would fall to the floor " I have no wish, cardinal," the king kindly replied, "to find yon guilty. Explain to ma i?*H.j THB DIAMOND NECKLACE. 121 The cardinal'! confund lUtetnenU. Be U arrerted. this enigma. Account for all those maneuvers with Boehmer. Where did you obtain these securities and these promissory notes, signed in the queen's name, which have been given to Bcehn.er ?" The cardinal, trembling in every nerve, faint ly replied, " Sire, I am too much agitated now to answer your majesty. Give me a little time to collect my thoughts." " Compose yourself, then, cardinal," the king added. " Go into my cabinet. You will there find papers, pens, and ink. At your leisure, write what you have to say to me." In about half an hour the cardinal returned with a paper, covered with erasures, and alter- ations, and blottings, as confused and unsatisf- actory as his verbal statements had been. An officer was then summoned into the royal pres- ence, and commanded to take the cardinal into custody and conduct him to the Bastile. He was, however, permitted to visit his home. The cardinal contrived, by the way, to scribble a line upon a scrap of paper, and, catching the eye of a trusty servant, he, unobserved, slipped it into his hand. It was a direction to the servant to hasten to the palace, with the utmost possible peed, and commit to the flames all of his pri. 122 MARIA ARTOINETTB. [1786 Arract of M^""* Lamotte. vate papers. The king had also sent officers to the cardinal's palace to seize his papers and seal them for examination. By almost superhuman exertions, the cardinal's servant first arrived at the palace, which was at the distance of sever- al miles. His horse dropped dead in the court- yard. The important documents, which might, perhaps, have shed light upon this mysterious affair, were all consumed. The Countess Lamotte was also arrested, and held in close confinement to await her trial. She had just commenced living in a style of ex- traordinary splendor, and had vast sums at her disposal, acquired no one knew how. It is dif- ficult to imagine the excitement which this story produced all over Europe. It was represented that the queen was found engaged in a swin- dling transaction with a profligate woman to cheat the crown jeweler out of gems of inesti- mable value, and that, being detected, she was employing all the influence of the crown to shield her own reputation by consigning the in- nocent cardinal to infamy. The enemies of the qneen, sustained by the ecclesiastics generally, rallied around the cardinal. The king and queen, feeling that his acquittal would be the virtual condemnation of Maria Antoinette, and 1786.] THE DIAMOND NECKLACE. 123 Hie qonen'i anguUh. The cardinal'! trial. firmly convinced of his guilt, exerted their ut- most influence, in self-defense, to bring him to punishment. Rumors and counter rumors floated through Versailles, Paris, and all the oonrts of the Continent. The tale was rehears- ed in saloon and cafe with every conceivable ad- dition and exaggeration, and the queen hardly knew which way to turn from the invectives which were so mercilessly showered upon her. Her lofty spirit, conscious of rectitude, sustain- ed her in public, and there she nerved herself to appear with firmness and equanimity. But in the retirement of her boudoir she was una- ble to rep^l the most melancholy imaginings, and often wept with almost the anguish of a bursting heart. The sunshine of her life had now disappeared. Each succeeding day grew darker and darker with enveloping glooms. The trial of the cardinal continued, with vt rious interruptions, for more than a year. Ver powerful parties were formed for and agains him. All France was agitated by the protract ed contest. The cardinal appeared before hi judges in mourning robes, but with all the pa- geantry of the most imposing ecclesiastical cos- tume, lie was conducted into court with much ceremony, and treated with the greatest defer- MABIA ANTOINETTE. [1780. The cardinal's acquittal. Ciufrin of the kin* and queen. enoe. In the trying moment in which he first appeared before his judges, his courage seemed utterly to fail him. Pale and trembling with emotion, his knees bent under him, and he had to oling to a support to proven* himself from falling to the floor. Five or six voices immediately ad- dressed him in tones of sympathy, and the pres- ident said, " His eminence the cardinal is at liberty to sit down, if he wishes it." The dis- tinguished prisoner immediately took his seat with the members of the court. Having soon recovered in some degree his composure, he arose, and for half an hour addressed his judges, with much feeling and dignity, repeating hia protestations of entire innocence in the whole affair. At the close of this protracted trial, the car- dinal was folly acquitted of all guilt by a ma- jority of three voices. The king and queen were extremely chagrined at this result. Du- ring the trial, many insulting insinuations were thrown out against the queen which could not easily be repelled. A friend who called upon her immediately after the decision, found her in her closet weeping bitterly. " Come," said Ma- ria, "come and weep for your queen, insulted and sacrificed by cabal and injustice." The kinp 1786.] THE DIAMOND NECKLACE. 125 Trial of the CoontaM Ltmattn. Her oool effrontery came in at the same moment, and said, " Yon find the queen much afflicted; she has great reason to be so. They were determined through- out this affair to see only an ecclesiastical prince, Prince de Rohan, while he is, in fact, a needy fellow, and all this was but a scheme to put money into his pockets. It is not necessary to be an Alexander to cut this Gordian knot." The cardinal subsequently emigrated to Germany, where he lived in comparative obscurity till 1803, when he died. The Countess Lamotte was brought to trial, but with a painfully different result Dressed in the richest and most costly robes, the dissolute beauty appeared before her judges, and aston- ished them all by her imperturbable self-pos session, her talents, and her cool effrontery. It was clearly proved that she had received the necklace ; that she had sold here and there the diamonds of which it was composed, and had thus come into possession of large sums of mon ey. She told all kinds of stories, contradicting herself in a thousand ways, accusing now one and again another as an accomplice, and un- blnshingly declaring that she had no intention to tell the truth, for that neither she nor the cardinal had uttered one single word before f he 126 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1786 The connt f jund guilty Bai brou Ftntnnoe court which had not been false. She was found guilty, and the following horrible sentence was pronounced against her : that she should be whipped upon the bare back in the court-yard of the prison ; that the letter V should be burned into the flesh on each shoulder with a hot iron ; and that she should be imprisoned for life. The king and queen were as much displeased with the terrible barbarity of the punishment of the countess as they were chagrined at the acquittal of the cardinal. As the countess was a descend- ant of the royal family, they felt that the igno- minious character of the punishment was in tended as a stigma upon them. As the countess was sitting one morning in the spacious room provided for her in the pris- on, in a loose robe, conversing gayly with some friends, and surrounded by all the appliances of wealth, an attendant appeared to conduct her into the presence of the judges. Totally unprepared for the awful doom impending over her, she rose with careless alacrity and entered the court. The terrible sentence was pro- nounced. Immediately terror, rage, and '^- pair seized upon her, and a scene of horror ^-- roed which no pen can describe. Before the eutunoa was finished, she threw herself on THK DIAMOND NECK LACK. 127 Brutal punishment of the oounteM. Her unhappy cod the floor, and uttered the most piercing shriek* and screams. The tumult of agitation into which she was thrown, dreadful as it was, \e laxed not the stern rigor of the law The ex eoutioner immediately seized her, and dragged her, shrieking and struggling in a delirium of phrensy, into the court-yard of the prison. Aa her eye fell upon the instruments of her igno- minious and brutal punishment, she seized anon one of her executioners with her teeth, and tore a mouthful of flesh from his arm. She was thrown upon the ground, her gar- ments, with relentless violence, were stripped from her back, and the lash mercilessly cut its way into her quivering nerves, while her awful screams pierced the damp, chill air of the morn- ing. The hot irons were brought, and simmered upon her recoiling flesh. The unhappy creature was then carried, mangled and bleeding, and half dead with torture, and terror, and mad- ness, to the prison hospital. After nine months of imprisonment she was permitted to escape She fled to England, and was found one morn- ing dead upon the pavements of London, hav. ing been thrown from a third story window ir * midnight carousal. Such was the story of the Diamond Neck- 128 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1780. Innocence of the queen. Of De Rohan'* criminality. lace. Though no one can now doubt that Maria Antoinette was perfectly innocent in the whole affair, it, at the time, furnished her ene- mies with weapons against her, which they used with fatal efficiency. It was then represented that the Countess Lamotte was an accomplice of the queen in the fraudulent acquisition oi the necklace, and that the Cardinal de Rohan was their deluded but innocent victim. Tne horrible punishment of Madame Larnotte, who boasted that royal blood circulated in her veins, was understood to be in contempt of royalty, and as the expression of venomous feeling to- ward the queen. Both Maria Antoinette and Louis felt it as such, and were equally ag- grieved by the acquittal of the cardinal and the barbarous punishment of the countess Whether the cardinal was a victim or an ac- complice is a question which never has been, and now never can be, decided. The mystery in which the affair is involved must remain a mystery until the secrets of all hearts are re- vealed at the great day of judgment. If he was the guilty instigator, and the poor countee but his tool and victim, how much has he yet to be accountable for in the just retribution* of eternity ! There were three supposition* 1786 J THE DIAMOND NECKLACE. 128 The three rappocitlon*. Inftwmoo of the flrit adopted by the community in the attempt to solve the mystery of this transaction: 1. The first was, that the queen had really employed the Countess Lamotte to obtain the necklace by deceiving the cardinal. That it was a trick by which the queen and the count- ess were to obtain tiie necklace, and, by selling it piecemeal, to share the spoil, leaving the cardinal responsible for the payment. This was the view the enemies of Maria Antoinette, almost without exception, took of the case ; and the sentence of acquittal of the cardinal, and the horrible condemnation of the countess, were intended to sustain this view. This opinion, spread through Paris and France, was very in- fluential in rousing that animosity which con- ducted Maria Antoinette to sufferings more poignant and to a doom more awful than the Countess Lamotte could by any possibility endure. 2. The second supposition was, that the car- dinal and the countess forged the signature of the queen to defraud the jeweler ; that they thus obtained the rich prize of three hundred and twenty thousand dollars, intending to di- vide the spoil between them, and throw the ob- joquy of the transaction upon the queen. The Jl 9 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [17SG. Vhe third uppocition. Probably the true on* king and queen were both fully convinced that this was the true explanation of the fraud, and they retained this belief undoubted until the} 1 died. 3. .The third supposition, and that whieh now is almost universally entertained, was, that the crafty woman Lamotte, by forgery, and by means of an accomplice, who very much, in figure, resembled Maria Antoinette, completely duped the cardinal. His anxiety was such to be restored to the royal favor, that he eagerly caught at the bait which the wily countess presented to him. But, whoever may have been the guilty ones, no one now doubts that Maria Antoinette was entirely innocent. She, however, experienced all the ignominy she could have encountered had she been involved in the deepest guilt 17y.j THE MOB AT VERSAILLES. 131 4 fathering rturm. C< >u- tia. * from month to mouth 142 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1789 The mob marches to Versailles. Hnroic reply of the qneea "To Versailles! to Versailles 1" Why, no one knows, only that the king and queen are there. Impetuously, as by a blind instinct, the monster mass moves on. La Fayette, at the head of the National Guard, knows not what to do, for aU the troops under his command sympathize with the people, and will obey no orders to re- sist them. He therefore merely follows on with his thirty-five thousand troops to watch the is- sue of events. The king and queen are warned of the approaching danger, and Louis entreats Maria Antoinette to take the children in the carriages and flee to some distant place of safety. Others join most earnestly in the entreaty. " Nothing," replies the queen, " shall induce me, in such an extremity, to be separated from my husband. I know that they seek my life But I am the daughter of Maria Theresa, and have learned not to fear death." From the windows of their mansion the dis orderly multitude were soon descried, in t dense and apparently interminable mass, pom- ing along through the broad avenues toward the palaces of Versailles. It was in the evening twilight of a dark and rainy day. Like ocean tides, the frantic mob rolled in from every direc- tion. Their shouts and revels swelled upon tht 1789.] THE MOB AT VERSAILLES. Violence of th mob. The qnera retire* IB re* night air. The rain began to fall in torrents. They broke into the houses for shelter ; insulted maids and matrons ; tore down,every thing com- bustible for their watch fires ; massacred a few ol the body guard of the queen, and, with bac- chanalian songs, roasted their horses for food. And thus passed the hours of this long and dreary night, in hideous outrages for which one can hardly find a parallel in the annals of New Zealand cannibalism. The immense gardens of Versailles were filled with a tumultuous ocean of half-frantic men and women, tossed to and fro in the wildest and most reckless excitement. Toward morning, the queen, worn out with excitement and sleeplessness, having received from La Fayette the assurance that he had so posted the guard that she need be in no appre- hension of personal danger, had retired to her chamber for rest. The king had also retired to his apartment, which was connected with that of the queen by a hall, through which they could mutually pass. Two faithful soldiers were stationed at the door of the queen's cham- ber for her defense. Hardly had the queen placed her head upon her pillow before she heard a dreadful clamor upon the stairs the discharge of fire-arms, the clashing of swords, 1110 146 MARIA ANTOINETTE. Per& of the queen. Her narrow accapi ind the ghouts of the mob rushing upon her door. The faithful guard, bleeding beneath the blows of the assailants, had only time to cry to the queen, " Fly ! fly for your life !" when they were stricken down. The queen sprang from her bed, rushed to the door leading to the king's apartments, when, to her dismay, she found that it was locked, and that the key was upon the other side. With the energy of de- spair, she knocked and called for help. Fortu nately, some one rushed to her rescue from the king's chamber and opened the door. The queen had just time to slip through and again turn the key, when the whole raging mob, with oaths and imprecations, burst into the room, and pierced her bed through and through with their sabers and bayonets. Happy would it have been for Maria if in that short agony she might have died. But she was reserved by a myste- rious Providence for more prolonged tortures and for a more dreadful doom. A few of the National Guard, faithful to the king, rallied around the royal family, and La Fayette soon appeared, and was barely able to protect the king and queen from massacre. He had no power to effectually resist the tempest ef human p'assnn which was raging, but was 1789] THE MOB AT VERSAILLES. 147 The mob in the palace. Heroic condwt of the swept along by its violence. Nearly all of the interior of tne palace was ransacked and defiled by the mob. The bloody heads of the massa- cred guards, stuck upon pikes, were raised up to the windows of the king, to insult and to ter- rify the royal family with these hideous trophies irf the triumph of their foes. At length the morning succeeding this dread- ful night dawned lurid and cheerless. It was the 8th of October, 1789. Dark clouds over- shadowed the sky, showers of mist were driven through the air, and the branches of the trees swayed to and fro before the driving storm. Pools of water filled the streets, and a countless multitude of drunken vagabonds, in a mass so dense as to be almost impervious, besieged the palace, having no definite plan or desire, only furious with the thought that now was the hour in which they could wreak vengeance upon aristocrats for ages of oppression. Muskets were continually discharged by the more des- perate, and bullets passed through the windows cf the palace. Maria Antoinette, in these try- rng scenes, indeed appeared queenly. Her oon- t'uct was heroic in the extreme. Her soul was nerved to the very highest acts of feailessnesa and magnanimity. Seeing the mob in the court. 148 MARIA ANTOINETTE [1789 Hie queen appear* on the balcony. Her composure yard below ready to tear in pieces some of hei faithful guard whom they had captured, regard- less of the shots which were whistling by her, she persisted in exposing herself at the open window to beg for their lives; and when a friend, M. Luzerne, placed himself before her, that his body might be her shield from the bul- lets, she gently, but firmly, with her hand, press- ed him away, saying, " The king can not afford to lose so faithful a servant as you are." At length the crowd began vigorously to shout, " The queen ! the queen !" demanding that she should appear upon the balcony. She immedi- ately came forth, with her children at her side, that, as a mother, she might appeal to their hearts. The sight moved the sympathies of the multitude ; and execrating, as they did, Ma- ria Antoinette, whom they had long been taught to hate, they could not have the heart, in cold blood, to massacre these innocent children. Thousands of voices simultaneously shouted, " Away with the children !" Maria, apparently without the tremor of a nerve, led back her children, and again appearing upon the balcony alone, folded her arms, and, raising her eyes to heaven, stood before them, a self-devoted viotinL The heroism of the act changed for a moxneni 1789.J THE MOB AT VERSAILLES. 149 The qusen applauded. The royal IkmOy tataa to Part*. hatred to admiration. Not a gun was fired ; there was a moment of silence, and then one spontaneous burst of applause rose apparently from every lip, and shouts of "Vive la reine! vive la reine !' ? pierced the skies. And now the universal cry ascends, " To Paris ! to Paris !" La Fayette, with the deep- est mortification, was compelled to inform the king that he had no force at his disposal suffi- cient to enable him to resist the demands of the mob. The king, seeing that he was entirely at the mercy of his foes, who were acting without leaders and without plan, as the caprice of each passing moment instigated, said, "You wish, my children, that I should accompany you to Paris. I can not go but on condition that I shall not be separated from my wife and family." To this proposal there was a tumultuous assent. At one o'clock, the king and queen, with their two children, entered the royal carriage to be escorted by the triumphant mob as captives to Paris. Behind them, in a long train, followed the carriages of the king's suite and servants. Then followed twenty-five carriages filled with the members of the National Assembly. After them came the thirty-five thousand troops of the National Guard ; and before, behind, and around 150 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1789 An army of vagabonds. The royal family growly truuftnd them all, a hideous concourse of vagabonds, male and female, in uncounted thousands, arm- ed with every conceivable weapon, yelling, blas- pheming, and crowding against the carriages so that they surged to and fro like ships in storm. This motley multitude kept up an in- cessant discharge of fire-arms loaded with bul- lets, and the balls often struck the ornaments of the carriages, and the king and queen were oft- en almost suffocated with the smoke of *iowder. The two body guard, who had been massa- cred while so faithfully defending the queen at the door of her chamber, were beheaded, and, their gory heads affixed to pikes, were carried by the windows of the carriage, and pressed upon the view of the wretched captives with every species of insult and derision. La Fayette was powerless. He was borne along resistlessly by this whirlwind of human passions. None were so malignant, so ferocious, so merciless, as the degraded women who mingled with the throng They bestrode the cannon singing the most in decent and insulting songs. " We shall now have bread," they exclaimed ; " for we havr with us the baker, and the baker's wife, and the baker's boy." During seven long hours 01 agony were the royal family exposed to thes* 1789.) THE MOB AT VERSAILLES. 153 The rojal funlly in the Tuilerie*. The quAen'i o!f-acrlfictof pirh insults, before the unwieldy mass had urged its slow way to Paris The darkness of night waa settling down around the city as the royal cap- tives were led into the Hotel de Ville. No one seemed then to know what to do, or why the icing and queen had been brought from Ver- eailles. The mayor of the city received them there with the external mockery of respect and homage. He had them then conducted to the Tui lories, the gorgeous city palace of the kings of France, now the prison of the royal family. Soldiers were stationed at all the avenues to the palace, ostensibly to preserve the royal fam- ily from danger, but, in reality, to guard them from escape. A moment before the queen entered her car- riage for this march of humiliation, she hastily retired to her private apartment, and, bursting into tears, surrendered herself to the most un- controllable emotion. Then immediately, as if relieved and strengthened by this flocx^ of tears, ihe summoned all her energies, and appeared ts she had ever appeared, the invincible sover eign. Indeed, through all these dreadful scenes the never seemed to have a thought for herself. It was for her husband and her children alone that she wept and suffered. Through all the 154 MARIA ANTOINETTE. Rioting nd violence The daaphin' question. long hours af the night succeeding this day of horror, Paris was one boiling caldron of tumult and passion. Rioting and violence filled all ita streets, and the clamor of madness and inebri- ation drove sleep from every pillow. The ex- citement of the day had been too terrible to al- low either the king or the queen to attempt re- pose. The two children, in utter exhaustion, found a few hours of agitated slumber from the terror with which they had so long been ap- palled. But in the morning, when the dauphin awoke, being but six or eight years of age, hear- ing the report of musketry and the turmoil still resounding in the streets, he threw his arms around his mother's neck, and, as he clung trembling to her bosom, exclaimed, " O mother ! mother ! is to-day yesterday again ?" Soon aft- er, his father came into the room. The little prince, to whom sorrow had given a maturity above his years, contemplated his father for a moment with a pensive air, went up to him and said, " Dear father, why are your people, who formerly loved you so well, now, all of & sudden so angry with you ? And what have you doiM to irritate them so much ?" The king thus replied. " I wished, my deal child, to render the people still happier than 1789.] THE MOB AT VERSAILLES. 157 Tba king'! explanation to hi ton. Flight of the nobility they were. I wanted money to pay the ex- penses occasioned by ware. I asked the Par- liament for money, as my predecessors have always done. Magistrates composing the Par- liament opposed it, and said that the people alone had a right to consent to it. I assembled the principal inhabitants of every town, whether distinguished by birth, fortune, or talents, at Versailles. That is what is called the States- General, When they were assembled, they re- quired concessions of me which I could not make, either with due respect for myself or with justice to you, who will be my successor. Wicked men, inducing the people to rise, have occasioned the excesses of the last few days. The people must aot be blamed for them." While these terrific scenes were passing in Paris and in France, the majority of the nobility were rapidly emigrating to find refuge in other lands. Every night the horizon was illumined by the conflagration of their chateaux, burned down by mobs. Many of them were mercilessly tortured to death. Large numbers, however, gathering around them such treasures as could easily be carried away, escaped to Germany on the frontiers of France. Some fifteen hundred of these emigrants were at Coblentz, organizing 158 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1789. Inflammatory placard*. The Duke of Orlean* themselves into a military band, seeking assist- ance from the Austrian monarchy, and threat- ening, with an overwhelming force of invasion, to recover their homes and their confiscated es- tates, and to rescue the royal family. The pop- ulace in Paris were continually agitated with the rumors of this gathering army at Coblentz. As Maria was an Austrian, she was accused of being in correspondence with the emigrants, and of striving to rouse the Austrian monarchy to make war upon France, and to deluge Paris with the blood of its citizens. Most inflam- matory placards were posted in the streets. Speeches full of rancor and falsehood were made to exasperate the populace. And when the fish- women wished to cast upon the queen some ep- ithet of peculiar bitterness, they called her " The Austrian." It is confidently asserted that the mob was instigated to the march to Versailles by the emissaries of the Duke of Orleans, the father of Louis Philippe. The duke hoped that the royal family, terrified by the approach of the infuri- ated multitude, would enter their carriages and flee to join the emigrants at Coblentz. The throne would then be vacant, and the people would make ths Duke of Orleans, who, to se- 17S9.J THE MOB AT VERSAILLES. 159 fn Duke of Oriean'i plans frustrated. Ramon of an in v wlon. sure this result, had become one of the rncst violent of the Democrats, their king. It was a deeply-laid plot and a very plausible enter- prise But the king understood the plan, and refused thus to be driven from the throne of his fathers. He, however, entreated the queen to take the children and escape. She resolute- ly declared that no peril should induce her to forsake her husband, but that she would live or die by his side. During all the horrors of that dreadful night, when the palace at Ver- sailles was sacked, the duke, in disguise, with his adherents, was endeavoring to direct the fury of the storm for the accomplishment of this purpose. But his plans were entirely frustrated. The caprice seized the mob to carry the king to Paris. This the Duke of Orleans of all things dreaded ; but matters had now passed entirely beyond his control. Ru- mors of the approaching invasion were filling the kingdom with alarm. There was a large minority, consisting of the most intelligent and wealthy, who were in favor of the king, and who would eagerly join an army coming foi his rescue. Should the king escape and head that army, it would give the invaders a vast accession of moral strength, and the insurgent 160 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1789 The leaden of the populace. The queen urged to attend the theater people feared a dreadful vengeance. Conse- quently, there were great apprehensions enter- tained that the king might escape. The lead- era of the populace were not yet prepared to plunge him into prison or to load him with chains. In fact, they had no definite plan be- fore them. He was still their recognized king. They even pretended that he was not their cap- tive that they had politely, affectionately invi ted him, escorted him on a visit to his capital. They entreated the king and queen to show that they had no desire to escape, but were contented and happy, by entering into all the amusement* of operas, and theaters, and balls. But in the mean time they doubled the guards around them, and drove away their faithful servants, to place others at their tables and in theiv chambers who should be their spies. But two days after these horrid outrages, in the midst of which the king and queen were dragged as captives to Paris, the city sent a deputation to request the queen to appear at the theater, and thus to prove, by participating in those gay festivities, that it was with pleas- ure that she resided in her capital. With much dignity the queen replied, " I should, with great pleasure, accede to the invitation of the peopU 1789.) THE MOB AT VERSAILLES. 16] Dignified reply of the queen. Her unpopularity Increase* of Paris ; but time must be allowed me to soft- en the recollection of the distressing events which have recently occurred, and from which I have suffered so severely. Having come to Paris preceded by the heads of my faithful guards, who perished before the door of their sovereign, I can not think that such an entry into the capital ought to be followed by rejoic- ings. But the happiness I have always felt in appearing in the midst of the inhabitants of Paris is not effaced from my memory; and 1 hope to enjoy that happiness again, so soon as I shall find myself able to do so." The queen was, however, increasingly the object of especial obloquy. She was accused of urging the king to bombard the city, and to adopt other most vigorous measures of resist- ance. It was affirmed that she held continual correspondence with the emigrants at Coblentz, and was doing all in her power to rouse Austria to come to the rescue of the king. Maria would have been less than the noble woman she was if she had not done all this, and more, for tlie protection of her husband, her child, and her- self. She inherited her mother's superiority of mind and mental energy. Had Louis possessed her spirit, he might have perished more heroic- 1111 162 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1789 Fhe queen's rigorou* action. Ultimate cauav of the popular fury ally, but probably none the less surely. Maria did, unquestionably, do every thing in her power to rouse her husband to a more energetic and manly defense. Generations of kings, by licen- tiousness, luxury, and oppression ; by total dis- regard of the rights of the people, and by the naughty contempt of their sufferings and com- plaints, had kindled flames of implacable hatred against all kingly power. Circumstances, over which neither Louis nor Maria had any control, caused these flames to burst out with resistless fury around the throne of France, at the timo in which they happened to be seated upon it. Though there never had been seated upon that throne more upright, benevolent, and conscien- tious monarchs, they were Compelled to drain to the dregs the poisoned chalice which their ancestors had mingled. Perhaps this world pre- sents no more affecting illustration of that mys- terious principle of the divine government, by which the transgressions of the parents are visited upon the children. Louis XIV.j as haughty and oppressive a monarch as ever tro*3 an enslaved people into the dust, died peace- fully in his luxurious bed. His descendant] Louis XVI., as mild and benignant a sovereign as evr sat upon an earthly throne, received 1789.] THE MOB AT VERSAILLES. 163 Transgressors visited In their children. upon his unresisting brow the doom from whick his unprincipled ancestors had escaped. It is difficult for us, in the sympathy which is ex- cited for the comparatively innocent Maria An- toinette and Louis, to remember the ages of wrong and outrage by which the popular exas- peration had been raised to wreak itself in in- discriminating atrocities. There is but one so- lution to these mysteries : " After death comv* the judgment." 164 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1789 Condition of the royal family. Ignomlniouily Inratod CHAPTER VI. THE PALACE A PRISOH. fTIHE king and queen now found themselves - in the gorgeous apartments of the Tuileries, surrounded with all the mockery of external homage, but incessantly exposed to the most ignominious insults, and guarded with sleepless vigilance from the possibility of escape. The name of the queen was the watchword of popu- lar execration and rage. In the pride of her lofty spirit, she spurned all apologies, explana- tions, or attempts at conciliation. Inclosing herself in the recesses of her palace, she heard with terror and resentment, but with an un- yielding soul, the daily acts of violence perpe- trated against royalty and all of its friends. All her trusty servants were removed, and spies in their stead occupied her parlors and her onam- bers. Trembling far more for her husband and her children than for herself, every noise in the streets aroused her apprehensions of a new in- surrection. And thus, for nearly two years oC melancholy days and sorrowful nights, the ven 1789.] THE PALACE A PRISON. nobleness of her nature, glowing with heroic love, magnified her anguish. The terror of the times had driven nearly all the nobility from the realm. The court was forsaken, or attended only by the detested few who were forced as ministers upon the royal family by the implacable popu- lace. Every word and every action of Maria Antoinette were watched, and reported by the spies who surrounded her in the guise of serv- ants. To obtain a private interview with any of her few remaining friends, or even with hei husband, it was necessary to avail herself of private stair-cases, and dark corridors, and the disguise of night. The queen regretted ex- tremely that the nobles, and others friendly to royalty, should, in these hours of gathering dan- ger, have fled from France. When urged to fly herself from the dangers darkening around her, she resolutely refused, declaring that she would never leave her husband and children, but that she would live or die with them. The queen, convinced of the impolicy of emigration, did every thing in her power to induce the em igrants to return. Urgent letters were sent to them, to one of which the queen added the fol- lowing postscript with her own hand : " If yon lore your king, your religion, your government; 166 MARIA AMTOIVBTIB. [1789 Kxcnae for the ndfrvno. Their plan* and your country, return ! return ! return f Maria Antoinette." The emigrants were se- verely censured by many for abandoning their king and country in such a crisis. But when all law was overthrown, and the raging mob swayed hither and thither at its will, and nobles were murdered on the high way or hung at lamp-posts in the street, and each night the hori- zon was illumined by the conflagration of their chateaux, a husband and father can hardly be severely censured for endeavoring to escape with his wife and children from such scenes of horror. A year of gloom now slowly passed away, almost every moment of which was embittered by disappointed hopes and gathering fears. The emigrants, who were assembled at Coblentz, on the frontiers of Germany, were organizing an army for the invasion of France and the resto- ration of the regal powe;. Tho people were very fearful that the king and quuen might escape, and, joining the emigrants, idd immeasurably tc their moral strength. There were thousand* a France, overawed by the terrors of the mob, wlio would most eagerly have rallied around the banners of such an invading army, headed by their own king. Louis, however, with his char- acteristic want of energy, was very unwilling to 1789.] THE PALACB A PRISON. 167 Profligate women. Their talk with the queen. assume a hostile attitude toward his subject, and still vainly hoped, by concessions and by She exhibition of a forgiving spirit, to reconcile bis disaffected people. On the morning after the arrival of tho king tnd queen at the Tuileries, an occurrence took place highly characteristic of the times. A crowd of profligate women, the same who be- atrode the cannon the day before, insulting the queen with the most abusive language, collected under the queen's windows, upon the terrace of the palace. Maria, hearing their outcries, came to the window. A furious termagant addressed her, telling her that she must dismiss all snob courtiers as ruin kings, and that she must love the inhabitants of her good city. The queen re- plied, " I have loved them at Versailles, and will also love them at Paris." " Yes ! yes !" answered another. " But yon wanted to besiege the city and have it bombard- ed. And you wanted to fly to the frontiers and join the emigrants." The queen mildly replied, " You have been told so, my friends, and have believed it, and that is the cause of the unhappiness of the peo- ple and af the best of kings." 168 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [17H9 Bravo* of the women. Plan for the quwn'g eccape Another addressed her in German, to which the queen answered, " I do not understand you. I have become so entirely French as even to have forgotten my mother tongue." At this they all clapped their hands, and shouted, " Bravo ! bravo !" They then asked for the ribbons and flowers out of her hat. Her majesty unfastened them herself, and then toss- ed them out of the window to the women. They were received with great eagerness, and divided among the party ; and for half an hour they kept up the incessant shout, " Maria An- toinette forever! Our good queen forever!" In the course of a few weeks some of the de- voted friends of the queen had matured a plan by which her escape could be, without diffi- culty, effected. The queen, whose penetrating mind fully comprehended the peril of her situ- ation, replied, while expressing the deepest grat- itude to her friends for their kindness, " I will never leave either the king or my children. If I thought that I alone were obnoxious to pub- lic hatred, I would instantly offer my life as a f acrifioe. But it is the throne which is aimed at. In abandoning the king, no other advant- age can be obtained than merely saving my life ; and I will never be guilty of such an act of 1789] THB PALACB A PRISON. 169 Latter from the queaa. Bar employmtata The following letter, which she wrote at this time to a friend, in reply to a letter of sympa- thy in reference to the outrage which had torn her from Versailles, will enable one to form A judgment of her situation and state of mind at that time. "I shed tears of affection on reading your sympathizing tatter. You talk of my courage ; it required much less to go through the dreadful crisis of that day than is now daily necessary to endure our situation, our own griefs, those of our friends, and those of the persons who surround us. This is a heavy weight to sustain ; and but for the strong ties by which my heart is bound to my husband, my children, and my friends, I should wish to sink under it. But you bear me up. I ought to sacrifice such feelings to your friendship. But it is I who bring misfortune on you all, and all your troubles are on my account." The queen now lived for some time in much retirement. She employed the mornings in superintending the education of her son and daughter, both of whom received all their les- ions in her presence, and she endeavored to oc- cupy her mind, continually agitated as it was by ever-recurring scenes of outrage and of dan- ger, by working large pieces of tapestry. 8h 170 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1789 The king's unwillingness to flee. Execution of the Marquis of Pavra* could not sufficiently recall her thoughts from the anxieties which continually engrossed them to engage in reading. The king was extremely unwilling to seek protection in flight, lest the throne should be declared vacant, and he should thus lose his crown. He was ever hoping that Affairs would soon take such a turn that har mony would be restored to his distracted king dom. Maria Antoinette, however, who had a much more clear discernment of the true state of affairs, soon felt convinced that reconcilia- tion, unless effected by the arm of power, was hopeless, and she exerted all her influence to rouse the king to vigorous measures for escape. While firmly resolved never to abandon her husband and her family to save her own life, she still became very anxious that all should endeavor to escape together. About this time the Marquis of Favras waa accused of having formed a plan for the rescue of the royal family. He was very hastily tried, the mob surrounding the tribunal and threaten- ing the judges with instant death unless they should condemn him. He was sentenced to be hung, and was executed, surrounded by the in- nulls and execrations of the populace of Pari*. The marquis left a wife and a little boy over* THE PALACE A PRISON. 171 hnpmdenca of some of the queen'g frfond*. Her embarntMinent whelmed with grief and in hopeless poverty. On the following Sunday morning, some ex- tremely injudicious friends of the queen, moved mth sympathy for the desolated family, without consulting the queen upon the subject, presented the widow and the orphan in deepest mourning at court. The husband and father had fallen a sacrifice to his love for the queen and her family. The queen was extremely embarrassed. What course could she with safety pursue ? If she should yield to the dictates of her own heart, and give expression to her emotions of sympa- thy and gratitude, she would rouse to stiL greater fury the indignation of the populace who were accusing her of the desire to escape, and who considered this desire as one of the greatest of crimes. Should she, on the other hand, sur- render herself to the dictates of prudence, and neglect openly to manifest any special interest in their behalf, how severely must she be cen- sured by the Loyalists for her ingratitude toward those who had been irretrievably ruined through their love for her. The queen was extremely pained by this un- expected and impolitic presentation; for the fate of others, far dearer to her than her own life, were involved in her conduct She with- 172 MARIA A/ITOIWKTTE. [1789. The queen weep*. Present to Madame FBTTM drew from the painful scene to her private apart- ment, threw herself into a chair, and, weepin^ bitterly, said to an intimate friend, " We must perish ! We are assailed by men who possess extraordinary talent, and who shrink from no rime. We are defended by those who have the kindest intentions, but who have no ade- quate idea of our situation. They have ex- posed me to the animosity of be th parties by presenting to me the widow and the son of the Marquis of Favras. Were I free to act as my heart impels me, I should take the child of the man who has so nobly sacrificed himself for us, and adopt him as my own, and place him at the table between the king and myself. But, sur- rounded by the assassins who have destroyed his father, I did not dare even to cast my eyes upon him. The Royalists will blame me for not having appeared interested in this,poor child. The Revolutionists will be enraged at the idea that his presentation should have been thought agreeable to me." The next day the queen sent, by a confidential friend, a purse of gold to Ma lame Favras, and assured her that she would ever watch, with the deepest interest, over her fortune and that of her son. Innumerable plans were now formed for th 1789.] THE PALACE A PRISON. 173 rbe king ecotinuea inactire. Plan of Count dlniacUl rescue of the royal family, and abandoned. The king could not be roused to energetic action. His passive courage was indomitable, but he oould not be induced to act on the offensive, ind still hoping that by a spirit of conciliation h might win back the affection* of his people, he was extremely reluctant to take any meas- ures by which he should be arrayed in hostility against them. Maria, on the contrary, knew that decisive action alone could be of any avail. One night, about ten o'clock, the king and queen were sitting in their private apartment of the Tuileries, endeavoring to beguile the mel- ancholy hours by a game of cards. The sister of the king, Madame Elizabeth, with a very pensive countenance, was kneeling upon a stool, by the side of the table, overlooking the game. A nobleman, Count d'Inisdal, devotedly attach- ed to the fortunes of the royal family, entered, and, in a low tone of voice, informed the king and queen that a plan was already matured to rescue them that very night ; that a section of the National Guard was gained over, that sets of fleet horses were placed in relays at suitable distances, that carriages were ready, and that now they only wanted the king's consent, and *be scheme, at midnight, would be carried into 174 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1789 Indecision of the king. The queen'* dUappoivbmnt execution. The king listened to every word without the movement of a muscle of his coun- tenance, and, fixing his eyes upon the cards in his hand, as if paying no attention to what had been said, uttered not a syllable. For some time there was perfect silence. At last Maria Antoinette, who was extremely anxious that the king should avail himself of this opportuni- ty for escape, broke the embarrassing silence by saying, " Do you hear, sir, what is said to us ?" " Yes," replied the king, calmly, " I hear," and he continued his game. Again there was a long silence. The queen, extremely anxious and impatient, for the hour of midnight was drawing near, again interrupted the silence by saying earnestly, " But, sif, some reply must be made to this communication." The king paused for a moment, and then, still looking upon the cards in his hand, said, "The king- can not consent to be carried off." Maria An- toinette was greatly disappointed at the want of decision and of magnanimity implied in this answer. She, however, said to the nobleman very eagerly, " Be careful and report this an- rwer correctly, the king can not consent to be carried off." The king's answer was doubtless intended as a tacit consent while he wished tc 1789.] THE PALACE A PRISON. 175 Displeasure of Count d'lnUdal. An alarm. avoid the responsibility of participating in the design. The count, however, was greatly dis- pleased at this answer, and said to his asso- ciates, " I understand it perfectly. He is will- ing that we should seize and carry him, as if by violence, but wishes, in case of failure, to throw all the blame upon those who are periling their lives to save him." The queen hoped earnestly that the enterprise would not be abandoned, and eat up till after midnight preparing her cases of valuables, and anxiously watching for the coming of their deliverers. But the hours lin- gered away, and the morning dawned, and the palace was still their prison. The queen, short- ly after, remarking upon this indecision of the king, said, "We must seek safety in flight. Our peril increases every day. No cue can tell to what extremities these disturbances will lead." La Fayette had informed the king, that, should he see any alarming movement among the disaffected, threatening the exposure of the royal family to new acts of violence, he would give them an intimation of their danger by the discharge of a few cannon from the battery upon the Pont Neuf. One night the report of guns from some casual discharge was heard, and the king, regarding it as the warning, in great 176 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [179 Attempts to Msaaainato the queea. Removal to 8t Ckmd alarm flew to the apartments of the queen. She was not there. He passed hastily from room to room, and at last found her in the cham- ber of the dauphin, with her two children in her arms. " Madame," said the king to her, " I have been seeking you. I was very anxious about you." " You find me," replied the queen pointing to her children, " at my station." Several unavailing attempts were made at this time to assassinate the queen. These dis- coveries, however, seemed to cause Maria no alarm, and she could not be induced to adopt any precautions for her personal safety. Rarely did a day pass in which she did not encounter, in some form, ignominy or insult. As the heat of summer came on, the royal family removed to the palace of St. Cloud without any opposi- tion, though the National Guard followed them, professedly for their protection, but, in reality, to guard against their escape. Here another plan was formed for flight. The different mem- bers of the royal family, in disguise, were to mee* in a wood four leagues from St. Cloud Some f"iends of the royal family, who could be perfectly relied upon, were there to join them A large caniage was to be in attendance, suffi- cient to conduct the whole family. The attend 1789.] THE PALACE A PRISON. 177 Another plan for flight It i abandoned ants at the palace would have no suspicion of their escape until nine o'clock in the evening, as the royal carriages were frequently out until that hour, and it would then take some time to send to Paris to call together the National As- sembly at midnight, and to send couriers to overtake the Fugitives. Thus, with fleet horses and fresh relays, and having six or seven hours the start, the king and queen might hope to escape apprehension. The queen very high ly approved of this plan, and was very any ious to have it carried into execution Bu* for some unknown reason, the attempt was re- linquished. There were occasional exhibitions of strong individual attachment for the king and queen which would, for a moment, create the illusion that a reaction had commenced in the public mind. One day the queen was sitting in her apartment at St. Cloud, in the deepest dejection of spirits, mechanically working upon some tap. estry to occupy the joyless and lingering hours. It was four o'clock in the afternoon. The pal- ace was deserted and silent. The very earth and sky seemed mourning in sympathy with the mourning queen. Suddenly, an unusual noise, as of many persons conversing in r.n 1112 178 MARIA ANTO NETT*. [1789 Exhibitions of attachment Emotion* of the qptm under tone, was heard beneath the window. The queen immediately rose and went to the window ; for every unaccustomed sound was, in uoh perilous times, an occasion of alarm. Be- low the balcony, she saw a group of some fifty persons, men and women, from the country, ap- parently anxious to catch a glimpse of her. They were evidently humble people, dressed in the costume of peasants. As soon as they saw the queen, they gave utterance to the most pas- sionate expressions of attachment and devotion. The queen, who had long been accustomed only to looks and words of defiance and insult, was entirely overpowered by these kind words, and could not refrain from bursting into tears. The sight of the weeping queen redoubled the affec- tionate emotions of the loyal group, and, with the utmost enthusiasm, they reiterated their assurances of love and their prayers for her safety. A lady of the queen's household, ap- prehensive that the scene might arrest the at- tention of the numerous spies who surrounded them, led her from the window. The affection- ate group, appreciating the prudence of the measure, with tears of sympathy expressed their assent, and with prayers, tears, and benedictions retired Maria was daeply touched by these 1789. THE PALACE A PRISOJ. 179 fhe MMMiB t the garden. Midnight latwflein. unwonted tones of kindness, and, throwing her- self into her chair, sobbed with uncontrollable emotion. It was long before she could regain her accustomed composure. Many unsuccessful attempts were made at this time to assassinate the queen. A wretch by the name of Rotondo succeeded one day in scaling the walls of the garden, and hid himself in the shrubbery, intending to stab the queen as she passed in her usual solitary promenade. A shower prevented the queen from going into the garden, and thus her life was saved. And yet, though the assassin was discovered and ar- rested, the hostility of the public toward the royal family was such that he was shielded from punishment. The king and queen occasionally held private interviews at midnight, with chosen friends, se- cretly introduced to the palace, in the apart- ment of the queen. And there, in low tones of voice, and fearful of detection by the numerous spies which infested the palace, they would de- liberate upon their peril, and upon the innumer- able plans suggested for their extrication. Some recommended the resort to violence ; that the king should gather around him as many of hi* faithful subjects as possible, and settle the dif- 180 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1789 Deliberations of the king's friend*. Taunting gift fioulties by an immediate appeal to arms. Oth- ers urged further compromise, and the spirit of conciliation, hoping that the king might thus regain his lost popularity, and re-establish his tottering throne. Others urged, and Maria co- incided most cordially in this opinion, that it was necessary for the royal family to escape from Paris immediately, which was the focua of disaffection, and at a safe distance, surround- ed by their armed friends, to treat with their enemies and to compel them to reasonable terms. The indecision of the king, however, appeared to be an insuperable obstacle in the way of any decisive action. One day a delegation appeared before the roy- al family from the conquerors of the Bastile, with a new year's gift for the young dauphin. The present consisted of a box of dominoes cu- riously wrought from the stone of which that celebrated state prison was built. It was an ingenious plan to insult the royal family under the pretense of respect and affection, for on the lid of the box there was engraved the following sentiment: "These stones, from thaw alls which inclosed the innocent victims of arbitrary pow- er, have been converted into a toy, tc be pre- sented to you, monseifneur, as an homage of 1789.J THE PALACB A PRISON. 181 The king'i anntt leave France. They are arrests* the people's love, and to teach you the extern of their power" About this time, the two aunts of the king left France, ostensibly for the purpose of trav oling, but, in reality, as an experiment, to see what opposition would be made to prevent mem- bers of the royal family from leaving the king- dom. As soon as their intention was known, it excited the greatest popular ferment. A vast crowd of men and women assembled at the pal- ace, to prevent, if possible, with lawless vio- lence, their departure. It was merely two el- derly ladies who wished to leave France, but the excitement pervaded even the army, and many of the soldiers joined the mob in the de- termination that they should not be permitted to depart. The traces of the carriages were cut, and the officers, who tried to protect the prin cesses, were nearly murdered. The whole nn- tion was agitated by the attempts of these twi peaceful ladies to visit Rome. When at some distance from Paris, they were arrested, and the report of their arrest was sent to the National Assembly. The king found the excitement so great, that he wrote a letter to the Assembly, informing them that his aunts wished to leave France to visit other countries, and that, though 182 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1791 Exciting debate. The ladle* permitted to depart he witnessed their separation from him and hi family with much regret, he did not feel that he had any right to deprive them of the privilege which the humblest citizens enjoyed, of going whenever and wherever they pleased. The question of their detention was for a long time debated in the Assembly. " What right," said one, " have we to prohibit these ladies from trav- eling." " We have a law," another indignantly replied, "paramount to all others the law which commands us to take care of the public safety." The debate was finally terminated by the caustic remark of a merriber who was ashamed of the protracted discussion. "Eu rope," said he, " will be greatly astonished, no doubt, on hearing that the National Assembly spent four hours in deliberating upon the de- parture of two ladies who preferred hearing mass at Rome rather than at Paris." The debate was thus terminated, and the ladies were per- initted to depart. Early in the spring of 1791, the king and queen, who had been passing some time in Paris at the Tuiteries, wished to return to their coun- try seat at St. Cloud. Many members of the household had already gone there, and dinner was prepared for the royal family at th palace 1791.1 THE PALACE A PRISON. 185 Ttw royal family itart for 8t Ctaui. They are compelled to return. for their reception. The carriages were at the door, and, as the king and queen were descend ing, a great tumult in the yard arrested their attention. They found that the guard, fearful that they might escape, had mutinied, and closed the door of the palace, declaring that they would not let them pass. Some of the personal friend* of the king interposed in favor of the insulted captives, and endeavored to secure for them more respectful treatment. They were, however, seized by the infuriated soldiers, and narrowly escaped with their lives. The king and queen returned in humiliation to their apartments, feeling that their palace was indeed a prison They, however, secretly did not regret the oc- currence, as it made more public the indignities to which they were exposed, and would aid in justifying before the community any attempts they might hereafter make to escape. Tne king had at length become thoroughly iroused to a sense of the desperate position of .iis affairs. But the royal family was watched BO narrowly that it was now extremely difficult to make any preparations for departure ; and the king and queen, both having been brought up surrounded by the luxuries and restraints of a palace, knew so little of the world, and yet 186 MARIA ANTOINETTE- [1791 Preparation* for flight Imprudence of the king and qoeen. were so accustomed to have their own way, tha*. they were entirely incapable of forming any ju- dicious plan for themselves, and, at the same time, they were quite unwilling to adopt the views of their more intelligent friends. They began, however, notwithstanding the most earn- est remonstrances, to make preparations foi flight by providing themselves with every con- ceivable comfort for their exile. In vain di<* their friends assure them that they could pur- chase any thing they desired in any part of Eu- rope ; that such quantities of luggage would be only an encumbrance ; that it was dangerous, under the eyes of their vigilant enemies, to be making such extensive preparations. Neither the king nor queen would heed such monitions. The queen persisted in her resolution to send to Brussels, piece by piece, all the articles of a complete and extensive wardrobe for herself and her children, to be ready for them there upon their arrival. Madame Campan, the intimate friend and companion of the queen, was extreme* ly uneasy in view of this imprudence ; but, a she could not dissuade the queen, she went out again and again, in the evening and in disguise, to purchase the necessary articles and have them made up. She adopted the precaution of pur 1791.] THE PALACE A PRISOH. 187 Garments for the oalklPen Tfce qaeem't dreMtnf-caM. chasing but few articles at any one shop, and of employing various seamstresses, lest suspi- cion should be excited. She had the garments made for the daughter of the queen, cut by the measure of another young lady who exactly re- sembled her in size. Gradually they thus filled one large trunk with clothing, which was sent to the dwelling of a lady, one of the friends of the queen, who was to convey it to Brussels. The queen had a very magnificent dressing- case, which cost twelve hundred dollars. This she also determined that she could not leave be- hind. It could not be taken from the palace, and sent away out of the country, without at- tracting attention, and leading at once to the conviction that the queen was to follow it. The queen, in her innocent simplicity of mankind, thought that the people could be blinded like children, by telling them that she intended to send it as a present to the Archduchess Chris- tina. However, by the most earnest remon- strances* of her friends, she was induced only so far to change her plan as to consent that the charg6 (f affaires from Vienna should ask her at hei toilet, and in the presence of all around her, to have just such a dressing-case made for the archduchess. This plan was carried into 188 MAR ii ANTOINETTE. [1791 The qwven'f diamonds and )HWBU. The faithful Leonard execution, and the dressing-case was thus pub- licly made ; but, as it could not be finished in season, the queen sent her own dressing-case, saying that she would keep the new one her- self. It, however, did not deceive the spies who surrounded the queen. They noticed all these preparations, and communicated them to the authorities. She also very deliberately col- lected all her diamonds and jewels in her pri- vate boudoir, and beguiled the anxious hours in inclosing them in cotton and packing them away These diamonds, carefully boxed, were placed in the hands of the queen's hair-dresser, a man in whom she could confide, to be carried by him to Brussels. He faithfully fulfilled his trust. But one of the women of the queen, whom she did not suspect of treachery, but who was a spy of the Assembly, entered her boudoir by false keys when the queen was absent, and reported all these proceedings. The hair-dress- er perished upon the scaffold for his fidelity. Let the name of Leonard be honored. The in- famous informer has gone to oblivion, and we wut not aid e^en to embalm her name in con- tempt 1791.] THE FLIGHT. Icreams[ excitement Inflamiratory pe**h of Marat CHAPTER VII. THE FLIGHT. flHE ferment in the National Assembly wa - steadily and strongly increasing. Every day brought new rumors of the preparation of the emigrants to invade France, aided by the armies of monarchical Europe, and to desolate the rebellious empire with fire and sword. Tid- ings were floating upon every breeze, grossly exaggerated, of the designs of the king and queen to escape, to join the avenging army, and to wreak a terrible vengeance upon their country Furious speeches were made hi the Assembly and in the streets, to rouse to madness the peo- ple, now destitute of work and of bread. "Cit- izens," ferociously exclaimed Marat, "watch, with an eagle eye, that palace, the impenetra- ble den where plots are ripening against the people. There a perfidious queen lords it over a treacherous king, and rears the cubs of tyran- ny. Lawless priests there consecrate the arm* which are to be bathed in the blood of the peo- ple. The genius of Austria is there, guided by 190 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1791 The king and queen resolve to fly. Effort' i of the king*! brother the Austrian Antoinette. The emigrants are there stimulated in their thirst for vengeance. Every night the nobility, with concealed dag- gers, steal into this den. They are knights of the poniard assassins of the people. Why is not the property of emigrants confiscated their houses burned a price set upon their heads? The king is ready for flight. Watch ! watch ! a great blow is preparing is ready to barst; if you do not prevent it by a counter blow more sudden, more terrible, the people and liberty are annihilated." The king and queen, in the apartments where they were virtually imprisoned, read these an- gry and inflammatory appeals, and both now felt that no further time was to be lost in at- tempting to effect their escape. It was known that the brother of the king, subsequently Charles X., was going from court to court in Europe, soliciting aid for the rescue of the il- lustrious prisoners. It was known that the King of Austria, brother of Maria Antoinette, had promised to send an army of thirty-five thou- sand men to unite with the emigrants at Coiv lentz in their march upon Paris. Every mon- arch in Europe was alarmed, in view of the instability of his own throne, should the rehell- 1791.] THE FLIGHT. 191 ExMperatloo of the oeople. Intention of the htef ion of the people against the throne in France prove triumphant ; and Spain, Prussia, Sardinia, Naples, and Switzerland had guaranteed equal forces to assist in the re-establishment of the French monarchy. It is not strange that the exasperation of the people should have been aroused, by the knowledge of these facts, be- yond all bounds. And their leaders were aware that they were engaged in a conflict in which defeat was inevitable death. The king had now resolved, if possible, to es- cape. He, however, declared that it never was his intention to join the emigrants and invade France with a foreign force. That, on the con- trary, he strongly disapproved of the measures adopted by the emigrants as calculated only to increase the excitement against the throne, and to peril his cause. He declared that it was only his wish to escape from the scenes of violence, insult, and danger to which he was exposed in Paris, and somewhere on the frontiers of his kingdom to surround himself by his loyal sub- jects, and there endeavor amicably to adjust the difficulties which desolated the empire. The character of the king renders it most probable that such was Ids intention, and such has been the verdict of posteritv 192 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1791 Deliberation* of the emigrant*. Danger* thlekea But there was another source of embarrass* ment which extremely troubled the royal fam- ily. The emigrants were deliberating upon the expediency of declaring the throne vacant by default of the king's liberty, and to nominate his brother M. le Comte d'Artois regent in his stead. The king greatly feared this moral for- feiture of the throne with which he was men- aced under the pretense of delivering him. He was justly apprehensive that the advance of an invading army, under the banners of his broth- er, would be the signal for the immediate de- struction of himself and family. Flight, con- sequently, had become his only refuge; and flight was encompassed with the most fearful perils. Long and agonizing were the months of deliberation in which the king and queen saw these dangers hourly accumalating around them, while each day the vigilance of their en- emies were redoubled, and the chances of es- cape diminished. The following plan was at last adopted for the flight. The royal family were to lea-ve Paris at midnight in disguise, in two carriages, for Montmedy, on the frontiers of France and Germany, about two hundred miles from Paris This town Was within the limits of France, si 1791.) THB FLIGHT. 193 The plan of flight The Marqui* de Bouillt that the king could not be said to have fled from nis kingdom. The nearest road and the great public thoroughfare led through the city of Rheims ; but, as the king had been crowned there, he feared that he might meet some one by whom he would be recognized, and he there- fore determined to take a more circuitous route, by by-roads and through small and unfrequented villages. Relays of horses were to be privately conveyed to all these villages, that the carriages might be drawn on with the greatest rapidity, and small detachments of soldiers were to be stationed at important posts, to resist any inter- ruption which might possibly be attempted by the peasantry. The king also had a large car- riage built privately, expressly for himself and his family, while certain necessary attendants were to follow in another. The Marquis de Bouille, who commanded a portion of the troops still faithful to the king, was the prime confidant and helper in this move- ment. He earnestly, but in vain, endeavored to induce the king to make some alterations in thi* plan. He entreated him, in the first place, not to excite suspicion by the use of a peculiar carriage constructed for his own use, but to make use of common carriages *uch as were 1113 194 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1791. The king refuses to change hi* plan. The MarqnU taking her two chil- dren by the hand, with Madame Elizabeth as- cended the stairs which conducted from the grocer's shop to his rooms above, where she was shielded from the gaze of the crowd. She threw nerself into a chair, and, overwhelmed with an- guish, burst into a flood of tears. The alarm bell continued to ring ; telegraphic dispatches were sent to Paris, communicating tidings of the arrest ; the neighboring villagers flocked into town ; the National Guard, composed of people opposed to the king were rapidly assembled 1791.] THB FLIGHT. 211 fooy of tb qwea. CouterntloB ta Pwh from all quarters, and the streets barricaded te prevent the possibility of any rescue by the sol- diers who advocated the royal cause. Thru the dreadful hours lingered away till the morn- ing dawned. The increasing crowd stimulated one another to ferocity and barbarity. Insults, oeths, and imprecations incessantly fell upon the ears of the captives. The queen probably en- dured as much of mental agony that night an the human mind is capable of enduring. The conflict of indignation, terror, and despair was BO dreadful, that her hair, which the night pre- vious had been auburn, was in the morning white as snow. This extraordinary fact is well attested, and indicates an enormity of wot almost incomprehensible. There was no knowledge in Paris of the king's departure until seven o'clock in the morning, when the servants of the palace en- tered the apartments of the king and queen, and found the beds undisturbed and the room* deserted. The alarm spread like wildfire through the palace and through the city. The alarm bells were rung, cannon were fired, and the cry resounded thi ugh the street*, " The king has fled ! the kin* has fled !" The terri- ed populace were expe in? almost at the next 212 MARIA ANTOINETTE. (1770 The palace fuxoed. buulU to the royl Corty moment to see him return with an avenging army to visit his rebellious subject* with the most terrible retribution. From all parts of the oity, every lane, and street, and alley lead- ing to the Tuileries was thronged with the orowd, pouring on, like an inundation, toward the deserted palace. The doors were forced open, and the interior of the palace was instant- ly filled with the swarming multitudes. The mob ftom the streets polluted the sanctuaries of royalty with every species of vulgarity and obscenity. An amazon market-woman took possession of the queen's bed, and, spreading tier cherries upon it, she took her seat upon the royal couch, exclaiming, " To-day it is the na- tion's turn to take their ease." One of the caps of the queen was placed in derision upon the head of a vile girl of the street. She ex- claimed that it would sully her forehead, and trampled it under her feet with contempt. Ev- ery conceivable insult was heaped upon the roy- al family. Placards, posted upon the walls, of- fered trivial rewards to anyone who would bring back the noxious animals which had fled from the palace. The metropolis was agitated to it* very center, and the most vigorous measures immediately adopted to arrest the king, if po 1791.] THE FLIGHT. 213 Measures to arreat the king. The tumult nbcide* sible, before he should reach the friends who could afford him protection. This turmoil con tinued for many hours, till the cry passed fron. mouth to mouth, and filled the streets, " He u unrated! he is arrested!" 214 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [179L Drpir of the king. Lovely character of llftia CHAPTER VIII. THE RETURN TO PARIS. ail the long hours of the night, while the king was detained in the grocer's shop at Varennes, he was, with anxiety inde- scribable, looking every moment for soldiers to appear, sent by M. Bouill6 for his rescue. But the National Guard, which was composed of those who were in favor of the Revolution, were soon assembled in such numbers as to rendei all idea of rescue hopeless. The sun rose upon Varennes but to show the king the utter des- peration of his condition, and he resigned him- self to despair. The streets were filled with an infuriated populace, and from every direction the people were flocking toward the focus of excitement. The children of the royal family, utterly exhausted, had fallen asleep. Madame Elizabeth, one of the most lovely and gentle ot earthly beings, the sister of the king, who, through all these trials, and, indeed, through ker whole life, manifested peculiarly the spirit Df heaven, was, regardless of herself, oarnestl) Graying for support for her brother and sister 1791.] THE RETURN TO PARIS. Urturn to Paris. Inrato of tfca mot> Preparations. were immediately made to for- ward the captives to Paris, lest the troops of M Bouille, informed of their arrest, should oome to their rescue. The king did every thing in his power to delay the departure, and one of the women of the queen feigned sudden and alarming illness at the moment all of the rest had been pressed into the carriages. But the impatience of the populace could not thus be restrained. With shouts and threats they com- pelled all into the carriages, and the melancholy procession, escorted by three or four thousand of the National Guard, and followed by a nu- merous and ever-increasing concourse of the people, moved slowly toward Paris. Hour after hour dragged heavily along as the fugitives, drinking the very dregs of humiliation, were borne by their triumphant and exasperated foes back to the horrors from which they had fled. The road was lined on either side by countless thousands, insulting the agonized victims with derision, menaces, and the most ferocious ges- tures. Varennes is distant from Paris one hundred and eighty miles, and for this whole distance, by night and by day, with hardly an hour's delay for food or repose, the rcyal family were exposed to the keenest torture of which 216 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [L79i M isaacre of M. Dampierre. Commissioners from Pan< the spiritual nature is in this world susceptible. Every revolution of the wheels but brought then: into contact with fresh vociferations of calumny. The fury of the populace was so great that it was with difficulty that the guard could protect their captives from the most merciless massacre. Again and again there was a rush made at the carriages, and the mob was beaten back by the arms of the soldiers. One old gentleman, M Dampierre, ever accustomed to venerate roy alty, stood by the road side, affected by the pro- foundest grief in view of the melancholy spec- tacle. Uncovering his gray hairs, he bowed re- spectfully to his royal master, and ventured to give utterance to .accents of sympathy. The infuriated populace fell upon him like tigers. and tore him to pieces before the eyes of the king and queen. The wheels of the royal car- riage came very near running over his bleeding corpse. The procession was at length met by com- missioners sent from the Assembly to take charge of the king. Ashamed of the brutality of the people, Barnave and Petion, the two com- missioners, entered the royal carriage to share the danger of its inmates. They shielded the prisoners from death, but they oouM not shield 1791.] THE RKTURM TC TARIS. 217 Noble character of BanMTe. BrutmUty of PWoo hem from insult and outrage. An ecclesiastic, venerable in person and in character, approached the carriages as they moved sadly along, and exhibited upon his features some traces of re- gpect and sorrow for fallen royalty. It was a mortal offense. The brutal multitude would not endure a look even of sympathy for the de- scendant of a hundred kings. They rushed upon the defenseless clergyman, and would have killed him instantly had not Barnave most energetically interfered. " Frenchmen !" he shouted, from the carriage windows, " will you, a nation of brave men, become a people of mur- derers !" Barnave was a young man of much nobleness of character. His polished manners, and his sympathy for the wrecked and ruined family of the king, quite won their gratitude Petion, on the contrary, was coarse and brutal. He was a Democrat in the worst sense of that abused word. He affected rude and rough fa- miliarity with the royal family, lounged con- temptuously upon the cushions, ate apples and melons, and threw the rind out of the window, careless whether or not he hit the king in the face. In all his remarks, he seamed to take a ferocious pleasure in wounding the feelings of his victims. 818 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1791 Approach to Paris. Appalling violence As the cavalcade drew near to Paris, the crowds surrounding the carriages became still more dense, and the fury of the populace more unmeasured. The leaders of the National As embly were very desirous of protecting the roy- al family from the rage of the mob, and to shield the nation from the disgrace of murdering the king, the queen, and their children in the streets It was feared that, when the prisoners should enter the thronged city, where the mob had so long held undisputed sway, it would be impos- sible to restrain the passions of the multitude, and that the pavements would be defaced with the blood of the victims. Placards were pasted upon the walls in every part of the city, " Who- ever applauds the king shall be beaten ; who- ever insults him shall be hung." As the car- riages approached the suburbs of the metropolis, the multitudes which thronged them became still more numerous and tumultuous, and the exhibitions of violence more appalling. All the dens of infamy in the city vomited their deni- tens to meet and deride, and, if possible, to de- stroy the captured monarch It was a day of intense and suffocating heat. Ten persons were crowded into the royal carriage. Not a breath of air fanned the favered cheeks of the sufferer? 1791.J THE RETURN TO PARIS. 21S Suffering* of the royal family. Arrival at the Tnllerle* The heat, reflected from the pavements and the bayonets, was almost insupportable. Clouds of dust enveloped them, and the sufferings of the children were so great that the queen was act- ually apprehensive that they would die. The queen dropped the window of the carriage, and, in a voice of agony, implored some one to give her a cup of water for her fainting child. " See, gentlemen," she exclaimed, " in what a condi- tion my poor children are ! one of them is chok- ing." " We will yet choke them and you," was the brutal reply, " in another fashion." Several times the mob broke through the line which guarded the carriages, pushed aside the horses, and, mounting the steps, stretched their clenched fists in at the windows. The procession moved perseveringly along in the midst of the clashing of sabers, the clamor of the blood-thirsty multi- tude, and the cries of men trampled under the hoofs of the horses. It was the 25th of June, 1791, at seven o'clock in the evening, when this dreadful procession, passing through the Barrier de 1'Etoile, entered the city, and traversed the streets, through double files of soldiers, to the Tuileriee. At length they arrived, half dead with exhaustion and despair, at the palace. The crowd was so 220 MARIA ANTOINETTE [179i Exertion* of La Fayette. Roar of the multitude immense that it was with the utmost difficulty that an entrance could be effected. At that moment, La Fayette, who had been adopting the most vigorous measures for the protection of the persons of the royal family, came to meet them. The moment Maria Antoinette saw him, forgetful of her own danger, and trembling for the body-guard who had periled their lives for her family, she exclaimed, " Monsieur La Fayette, save the body-guard." The king and queen alighted from the carriage. Some of the soldiers took the children, and carried them through the crowd into the palace. A member of the Assembly, who had been inimical to the King, came forward, and offered his arm to the queen foi her protection.. She looked him a moment in the face, and indignantly rejected the proffered aid of an enemy. Then, seeing a deputy who had been their friend, she eagerly accepted his arm, and ascended the steps of the palace. A prolonged roar, as of thunder, ascend- ed from the multitudinous throng which sur- rounded the palace when the king and queen had entered, and the doors of their prison were again closed against them. La Fayette was at the head of the National Guard. He was a strong advocate for the 1791.] THE RETURN TO PARIS 223 Spirit of the queen. Embarrauing poddoa of La Ftyett*. rights of the people. At the same time, he wished to respect the rights of the king, and to sustain a constitutional monarchy. As soon as they had entered the palace, Maria Antoinette, with that indomitable spirit which ever charac- terized her, approached La Fayette, and offered to him the keys of her casket, as if he were her jailer. La Fayette, deeply wounded, refused to receive them. The queen indignantly, with her own hands, placed them in his hat. '* Your majesty will have the goodness to take them back," said the marquis, "for I certainly shall not touch them." The position of La Fayette at this time was about as embarrassing as it could possibly have been ; and he was virtually the jailer of the royal family, answerable with his life for their safe keeping. He had always been a firm friend of civil and religious liberty. He was very anxious to see France blessed with those free institutions and that recognition of popular rights which are the glory of America, but he *lso wished to protect the king and queen from outrage and insult; and a storm of popular fury had now risen which he knew not how to control or to guide. He, however, resolved to do all in his power to protect the royal family. 224 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1791 The palace rigorously guarded. The queen groMly Intuited. and to watoh the progress of events with the hope of establishing constitutional liberty and a constitutional throne over France. The palace was now guarded, by command of the Assembly, with a degree of rigor unknown before. The iron gates of the courts and gar- den of the Tuileries were kept locked. A lirt of the persons who were to be permitted to see *he royal family was made out, and none others were allowed to enter. At every door sentinels were placed, and in every passage, and in the corridor which connected the chambers of the king and queen, armed men were stationed. The doors of the sleeping apartments of the king and queen were kept open night and day, and a guard was placed there to keep his eye ever apon the victims. No respect was paid to fe- male modesty, and the queen was compelled to retire to her bed under the watchful eye of an unfeeling soldier. It seems impossible that a civilized people could have been guilty of such barbarism. But all sentiments of humanity appear to have fled from France. One of the queen's women, at night, would draw her own bed between that of the queen and the open door, that she might thus partially shield the person of her royal mistress. The kiujf wat ar 1791.] THE RETURN TO PARIS. 226 Dwpalr of the king. Supremacy -of the mob utterly overwhelmed by tho magnitude of th calamities in which he was now involved, that his mind / for a season, seemed to be prostrated and paralyzed by the blow. For ten days he did not exchange a single word with any mom- ber of his family, but moved sadly about in the apathy of despair, or sat in moody silence. At last the queen threw herself upon her knees be- fore him, and, presenting to him her children, besought him, for her sake and that of their little ones, to rouse his fortitude. "We may all per- ish," she said, " but let us, at least, perish like sovereigns, and not wait to be strangled unre- sistingly upon the very floor of our apartments." The long and dreary months of the autumn, the winter, and the spring thus passed away, with occasional gleams of hope visiting their minds, but with the storm of revolution, on the whole, growing continually more black and terrific. General anarchy rioted throughout France. Murders were daily committed with impunity. There was no law. The mob had all power in their hands. Neither the king nor queen could make their appearance any where without ex- posure to insult. Violent harangues in the Assembly and in the streets had at length rous- ed tb< populace to a new act of outrage. The 1115 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1792 A brutal assemblage. Ferocious Inscription immediate cause was the refusal of the king tt give his sanction to a bill for the persecution of the priests. It was the 20th of June, 1792 A tumultuous assemblage of all the miserable, degraded, and vicious, who thronged the gar- rets and the cellars of Paris, and who had been gathered from all lands by the lawlessness with which crime could riot in the capital, were seen converging, as by a common instinct, toward the palace. They bore banners fearfully ex- pressive of their ferocity, and filled the air with the most savage outcries. Upon the end of a pike there was affixed a bleeding heart, with the inscription, " The heart of the aristocracy.'' Another bore a doll, suspended to a frame by the neck, with this inscription, " To the gibbet with the Austrian." With the ferocity of wolves, they surrounded the palace in a mass impenetrable. The king and queen, as they looked from their windows upon the multitu- dinous gathering, swaying to and fro like the billows of the ocean in a storm, and with tho olamor of human passions, more awful than the voice of many waters, rending the skies, in- stinctively clung to one another and to theii children in their power lessness. Madame Eliz- abeth, with her saint-like spirit and h^i heaven- 1792.] THE RETURN TO PARIS 227 tltanfc pon the palaco. The mob forr* M atrmnce directed thoughts, was ever unmindful of her own personal danger in her devotion to her beloved brother. The king hoped that the soldiers who crere stationed as a guard within the inclosures of the palace would be able to protect them from violence. The gates leading to the Place du Carrousel were soon shattered beneath the blows of axes, and the human torrent poured in with the resistlessness of a flood. The soldiers very deliberately shook the priming from their guns, as the emphatic expression to the mob that they had nothing to fear from them, and the artil- lerymen coolly directed their pieces against the palace. Axes and iron bars were immediately leveled at the doors, and they flew from their hinges ; and the drunken and infuriated rabble, with clubs, and pistols, and daggers, poured, an interminable throng, through the halls and apartments where kings, for ages, had reigned in inapproachable pomp and power. The serr ant* of the king, in terror, fled in every direo tioa. Still the crowd came rushing and roai ing on, crashing the doors before them, till they approached the apartment in which the royaJ family was secluded. The king, who, though deficient in active energy, possessed passive fear in the most eminent degree, left hi* 228 MARIA ANTOINETTE [1792 PearleMneM of the king The mob wa4 wife, children, and sister clinging together, and entered the adjoining room to meet his assail- ants. Just as he entered the room, the door, which was bolted, fell with a crash, and the mob was before him. For a moment the wretch- es were held at bay by the calm dignity of tha monarch, as, without the tremor of a nerve, he gazed steadily upon them. The crowd in the rear pressed on upon those in the advance, and three friends of the king had just time to inter- pose themselves between him and the mob, when the whole dense throng rushed in and filled the room. A drunken assassin, with a sharp iron affixed to a long pole, aimed a thrust violently at the king's heart. One blow from an heroic citizen laid him prostrate on the floor, and he was trampled under the feet of the throng. Oaths and imprecations filled the room ; knives and sabers gleamed, and yet the majesty of roy- alty, for a few brief moments, repelled the fe- rocity of the assassins. A few officers of the National Guard, roused by the peril of the king, uoceeded in reaching him, and, crowding him into the embrasure of a window, placed them- selves as a shield before him. The king seem- ed only anxious to withdraw the attention of the mob from the room in which his family 1792.J THE RKTURW TO PARIS. 229 Courage of Madame Elizabeth. Crtn of the moU were clustered, where he saw his sister, Ma- dame Elizabeth, with extended arms and im- ploring looks, struggling to come and share his fate. " It is the queen !" was the cry, and a core of weapons were turned toward her. ' 4 No ! no !" exclaimed others, " it is Madame Eliza- beth." Her gentle spirit, even in these degrad- ed hearts, had won admiration, and not a blow fell upon her. " Ah !" exclaimed Madame Eliz- abeth, " why do you undeceive them ? Gladly would I die in her place, if I might thus save the queen." By the surging of the crowd she was swept into the embrasure of another win- dow, where she was hemmed in without any possibility of extrication. By this time the crowds were like locusts, climbing up the bal- conies, and pouring in at the windows, and ev- ery foot of ground around the palace was filled with the excited throng. Shouts of derision filled the air, while the mob without were in- cessantly crying, " Have you killed them yet ? Throw us out their heads." Almost miraculously, the friends surround- ing the king succeeded in warding off the blows which were aimed at him. One of the mob thrust out to the king, upon the end of a pike, * red bonnet., the badge of the Jacobins, and J30 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1792 Fhe red bonnet First glimpaa of Napoleon there was a general shout, " Let him put it on ! iet him put it on ! It is a sign of patriotism. If he is a patriot he will wear it." The king smiling, took the bonnet and put it upon his head. Instantly there rose a shout from the fickle mul- titude, " Vive le roi /" The mob had achieved Its victory, and placed the badge of its power upon the brow of the humbled monarch. There was at that time standing in the court- yard of the palace a young man, with the blood boiling with indignation in his veins, in view of the atrocities of the mob. The ignominious spectacle of the red bonnet upon the head of the king, as he stood in the recess of the win- dow, seemed more than this young man could endure, and, turning upon his heel, he hastened away, exclaiming, " The wretches ! the wretch- es ! they ought to be mown down by grape- shot." This is the first glimpse the Revolution presents of Napoleon Bonaparte. But wiile the king was enduring their tor- tures in one apartment, the queen was suffering ndignities and outrages equally atrocious in another. Maria Antoinette was, in the eyes of the popu'ace, the personification of every thing to be hated. They believed her to be infamous as a wife; proud, tyrannical, and treacherous; 1792.] THE RETURN TO PARIS. 231 The queer's apartments Invaded. Inaulted by abandon**! women. that, as an Austrian, she hated France ; that she was doing all in her power to induce foreign armies to invade the French empire with fire and sword ; and that she had instigated the king to attempt escape, that he might head the ar- mies. Maria, conscious of this hatred, was %ware that her presence would only augment tne tide of indignation swelling against the king, and she therefore remained in the bed-chamber with her children. But her sanctuary was in- stantly invaded. The door of her apartment bad been, by some friend, closed and bolted Its stout oaken panels were soon dashed in, and the door driven from its hinges. A crowd of miserable women, abandoned to the lowest depths of degradation and vulgarity, rushed into the apartment, assailing her ears with the most obscene and loathsome epithets the language oould afford. The queen stood in the recess of a window, with queenly pride curbing her mor- tal apprehension. A few friends had gathered around her, and placed a table before her a* a partial protection. Her daughter, an exceed- ingly beautiful girl of fourteen yars of age, with her light brown hair floating in ringlets over her fair brow and shoulders, clung to her mother 5 * bosom as if sh* thought not of horso) f, but would 232 MARIA ANTOINETTE. 11792. The queen's children. The young gtoi only, with her own body, shield her mother's heart from the dagger of the assassin. Her son, but seven years old, clung to his mother's hand, gazing with a bewildered look of terror upon the hideous spectacle. The vociferations of the mob were almost deafening. But the aspect of the group, so lovely and so helpless, seemed to disarm the hand of violence. Now and then, in the endless crowd defiling through the room, those in the advance pressed resistlessly on by those in the rear, some one more tender hearted would speak a word of sympathy. A young girl came crowded along, neatly dressed, and with a pleasing countenance. She, however, immediately began to revile the queen in the coarsest language of vituperation. " Why do you hate me so, my friend ?" said the queen, kindly ; " have I ever done any thing to injure or to offend you ?" " No ! you have never injured me," was the reply, " but it is you who cause the misery of the nation." "Poor child!" rejoined the queen, "yon have been told so, and have been deceived. Why should I make the people miserable ? I am the wife of the king the mother of the dauphin ; and by all the feelings of my hear*. as a wife 1792.] THE RETURN TO PARIS. 239 Meeting of th Nation*! Ajembly. The king'* friend* derided and mother, I am a Frenchwoman. I shall never see my own country again. I can onlv be happy or unhappy in France. I was happy when you loved me." The heart of the girl was touched. She burst into tears, and exclaimed, "Pardon me, good queen, I did not know you ; but now I see that I have indeed been deceived, and you are truly good." Hour after hour of humiliation and agony thus rolled away. The National Assembly met, and in vain the friends of the king urged its ac- tion to rescue the royal family from the insults and perils to which they were exposed. But these efforts were met by the majority only with derision. They hoped that the terrors of the mob would compel the king hereafter to give his assent to any law whatever which they might frame. At last the shades of night be- gan to add their gloom to this awful scene, and even the most bitter enemies of the king did not think it safe to leave forty thousand men, imflamed with intoxication and rage, to riot, through the hours of the night, in the parlors, halls, and chambers of the Tuileries. The pres- ident of the Assembly, at that late hour, crowded bis way into the apartment where, for several 234 MARIA ANTOINETTE. ^1792 The president of the Assembly. The mob retire* hours, the king had been exposed to every con- ceivable indignity. The mysterious authority of law opened the way through the throng. " I have only just learned," said the presi- dent, " the situation of your majesty." " That is very astonishing," replied the king, indignantly, " for it is a long time that it ha lasted." The president, mounted upon the shoulders of four grenadiers, addressed the mob and urged them to retire, and they, weary with the long hours of outrages, slowly sauntered through the halls and apartments of the palace, and at eight o'clock silence reigned, with the gloom of night, throughout the Tuileries. The moment the mob became perceptibly less, the king received his sister into his arms, and they hastened to the apartment of the queen. During all the horrors of this awful day, her heroic soul had never quailed; but, now that the peril wag over, she threw herself upon the bosom of her husband, and wept in all the bitterness of incon- solable grief As the family were locked in each other's arms in silent gratitude for their preser- vation, the king accidentally beheld iff a mirror the red bonnet, which he had forgotten to remove from his head He turned red with mortifira- 1792.] THE RETURN TO PARIS. 235 Dnputfe* Ttrit tbe royal family. Unfeettng remvfc tion, and, casting upon the floor the badge of his degradation, turned to the queen, with his ayee filled with tears, and exclaimed, " Ah, mm dame, why did I take you from your country, to wooiate you with the ignominy of such a day ** this!" After the withdrawal of the mob, several of the deputies of the National Assembly were in the apartment with the royal family, and, as the queen recounted the horrors of the last five hours, one of them, though bitterly hostile to the royal family, could not refrain from tears. " You weep," said she to him, " at seeing the king and his family so cruelly treated by a peo- ple whom he always wished to make happy." " True, madame," unfeelingly replied the deputy, " I weep for the misfortunes of a beau- tiful and sensitive woman, the mother of a fam- ily. But do not mistake ; not one of my tears falls for either king or queen. I hate kings and queens. It is the only feeling they inspire me with. It is my religion." But time stops not. The hours of a dark and gloomy night, succeeding this terrible day, lingered slowly along, but no sleep visited tht eyelids of the inmates of the Tuileries. Scowl- ing guards still eyed them malignantly, and th 236 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [179*4 SopeleM condition 9f the royal family. Breast-plate for the king royal family could not unbosom to one another their sorrows but in the presence of those who were hostile spies upon every word and action Escape was now apparently hopeless. The svents of the past day had taught them that they had no protection against popular fury And they were filled with the most gloomy fore- oodings of woes yet to come. These scenes occurred on the 20th of June, 1792. On the 14th of July of the same year there was to be a magnificent fete in the Champ de Mars, as the anniversary of the independence of the nation. The king and queen were com pelled to be present to grace the triumph of the people, and to give the royal oath. It was an- ticipated that there would be many attempts on that day to assassinate the king and queen Some of the friends of the royal family urged that they should each wear a breast-plate which would guard against the first stroke of a dag- ger, and thus give the king's friends time to de- fend him. A breast-plate was secretly made for the king. It consisted of fifteen folds of Italian taffeta, and was formed into an under waist coat and a wide belt. Its impenetrability waa tried, and it resisted all thrusts of the dagger, and several balls were turned aside by it Ma 1792. THE RETURN TO PARIS. 23? Dagger proof corset for the queen. Fte In the Champ de Man dame Campan wore it for three days as an un- der petticoat before an opportunity could be found for the king to try it on unperceived At length, one morning, in the queen's chamber, moment's opportunity occurred, and he slip- ped it on, saying, at the same time, to Madame Campan, "It is to satisfy the queen that I sub- mit to this inconvenience. They will not as- sassinate me. Their scheme is changed. They will put me to death in another way." A dagger-proof corset had also been prepared for the queen without her knowledge. She, however, could not be persuaded to wear it " If they assassinate me," she said, " it will be a most happy event. It will release me from the most sorrowful existence, and may save from a cruel death the rest of the family." The 14th of July arrived. The king, queen, and dauphin were marched, like captives gracing an Oriental triumph, %t the head of the pro- cession, from the palace to the Champ de Mars. With pensive features and saddened hearts they passed along through the single file of sol- diers, who were barely able to keep at bay the raging mob, furious for their blood, and male- dictions fell heavily upon their ears from a thousand tongues. The fountain of tears was* 238 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1792 The lait appearance of the royal family in public. dry, and despair had nerved them with stoi> cism. They returned to the palace in the deep- est dejection, and never again appeared in the streets of Paris till they were borne to theii execution. 1792.] IMPRISONMENT. 239 The gneen dfly tnen)t*d CHAPTER IX. IMPRISONMENT IN THE TEMPLE. EVERY day now added to the insults and anguish the royal family were called to en- dure. They were under such apprehension of having their food poisoned, that all the articles placed upon the table by the attendants, pro- vided by the Assembly, were removed untouch- ed, and they ate and drank nothing but what was secretly provided by one of the ladies of the bed-chamber. One day the queen stood at her window, looking out sadly into the garden of the Tuileries, when a soldier, standing under the window, with his bayonet upon his gun, looked up to her and said, " I wish, Austrian woman, that I had your head upon my bayonet here, that I might pitch it over the wall to the dogs in the street." And this man was placed tinder her window ostensibly for her protection! Whenever the queen made her appearance in the garden, she encountered insults often too outrageous to be related. An assassin, one night, with his sharpened dagger, endeavored tc 240 MARIA ANTOINETTE. 11792 in amnnnln in the queen's chamber. The allied army penetratd her chamber. She was awoke by the noise of the struggle with the guard at the doc r. The assassin was arrested. " What a life !" ex- claimed the queen. "Insults by day, and as- sassins by night ! But let him go. He came to murder me. Had he succeeded, the Jacobins would have borne him to-morrow in triumpn through the streets of Paris." The allied army, united with the emigrants,* in a combined force of nearly one hundred and fifty thousand men, now entered the frontiers of France, to rescue, by military power, the royal family. They issued a proclamation, in which it was stated that " the allied sovereigns had taken up arms to stop the anarchy which pre- vailed in France to give liberty to the king, and restore him to the legitimate authority of which he had been deprived." The proclama- tion assured the people of Paris that, if they did not immediately liberate the king and return to their allegiance, the city of Paris should be totally destroyed, and that the enemies of the king should forfeit their heads. This proclama- tion, with the invasion of the French territory by the allied army, fanned to the intensest fury the flames of passion already raging in all parts f the empire. Thousands of young men froiu 1792.1 IMPRISONMENT. 241 f rflea in Frnc*i. The RoyallaU, Oirondlctl, and Jscobuu all the provinces thronged into the city, breath- ing vengeance against the royal family. In vain did the king declare his disapproval of these violent measures on the part of the allies. In vain did he assert his readiness to head the ar- mies of France to repel invasion. There were now three important parties in France struggling for power. The first was that of the king, and the nobles generally, wish- ing for the re-establishment of the monarchy. The second was that of the Girondists, wishing for the dethronement of the king and the estab- lishment of a republic, with the power in the hands of the most influential citizens in intelli- gence and wealth. The third was that of the ultra Democrats or Jacobins, who wished to raise the multitude from degradation, penury, and infamy, into power, by the destruction of the throne, and the subjection of the middling classes, and the entire subversion of all the dis^ tinctions of wealth and rank. The approach of the allies united both of these latter classet against the throne. A motion was immediately introduced into the Assembly that the monar- chy be entirely abolished, and a mob rioting through Paris threatened the deputies with death an I ess they dethroned the king. But an 1116 342 MJ.RIA ANTOINETTE. [1792 Consternation In Paris. The kinp's dethroaamMl army of one hundred and fifty thousand men were marching upon Paris, and the deputies feared a terrible retribution if this new insuU were heaped upon their sovereign. No person can describe the confusion and consternation with which the metropolis of France was filled. The mob declared, on the 9th of August, that, unless the dethronement were that day pro- nounced, they would that night sack the palace, and bear the heads of the royal family through the streets upon their pikes. The Assembly, undecided, and trembling between the two op- posing perils, separated without the adoption of any resolve. All knew that a night of dreadful tumult and violence must, ensue. Some hund- reds of gentlemen collected around the king and queen, resolved to perish with them. Sev- eral regiments of soldiers were placed in and around the palace to drive back the rnob, but it was well known that the troops would mere willingly fraternize with the multitude than op- pose them. The sun went down, and the street lamps feebly glimmered through the darkness of the night The palace was filled with armed men. The gentlemen surrounding the king were all conscious of their utter inability to pro- tect him. They had come lut to share the fate 1792.] IMPRISONMENT. 243 BOOM from the palace. Gmthertaf of the mob of their sovereign. The queen and the Princesi Elizabeth ascended to an upper part of the pal- ace, and stepped from a low window into the dark shadow of a balcony to look out upon the tamultuous city. The sound, as of the gather Ing of a resistless storm, swept through all the streets, and rose loud and threatening above the usual roar of the vast metropolis. The solemn tones of the alarm bells, pealing through the night air, summoned all the desperadoes of France to their several places of rendezvous, to march upon the palace. The rumbling of ar- tillery wheels, and the frequent discharge of musketry, proclaimed the determination and the desperation of the intoxicated mob. In darkness and silence, the queen and her sister stood listening to these fearful sounds, and their hearts throbbed violently in view of the terrible scene through which they knew that they must pass. The queen, pale but tearless, and nerved to the utmost by queenly pride, descended to the rooms below. She walked into the chamber where her beautiful son was sleeping, gazed earnestly upon him for a moment, bent over him, and imprinted upon his cheek a mother's kiss and yet without a tear. She entered th apartment of her daughter lovely, suroassing* 844 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [I7i/4 The queen with her children. Brutal remarks of the troops ly lovely in all the blooming beauty of fifteen. The princess, comprehending the peril of the hour, could not sleep. Maria pressed her child to her throbbing heart, and the pride of the queen was soon vanquished by the tenderness of the mother, as with convulsive energy she embraced her, and wept in anguish almost un- endurable. Shouts of unfeeling derision arose from the troops below, stationed for the protec- tion of the royal family, and their ears were as- sailed by remarks of the most brutal barbarity. Hour after hour of the night lingered along, the clamor without incessantly increasing, and the crowds surrounding the palace augmenting The excitement within the palace was so awful that no words could give it utterance. The few hundred gentlemen who had come so heroically to share the fate of their sovereign were aware that no resistance could be made to the tens of thousands who were thirsting for their blood. Midnight came. It was fraught with horror The queen, in utter exhaustion, threw herself upon a sofa. At that moment a musket shoi was fired in the court-yard. " There is the first shot," said the queen, with the calmness of de- spair, " but it will not be the last. Let us go and be with the king." At length, from the 1792.] IMPRISONMRMT. Rising of die ran. Disaffection if the troopa windows of their apartment, a few gleams of light began to redden the eastern sky. " Come," said the Princess Elizabeth, " and see the rising gun." Maria went mournfully to the window, gazed long and steadfastly upon the rising lu- minary, feeling that, before that day's sun should go down, she and all whom she loved would be in another world. It was an awful spectacle which the light of day revealed. All the avenues to the palace were choked with in- toxicated thousands. The gardens, and the court-yard surrounding the palace, were filled with troops, placed there for the protection of the sovereign, but evidently sympathizing with the mob, with whom they exchanged badges and friendly greetings. The queen, apprehensive that the children might be massacred in their beds, had them dressed, and placed by the side of herself and the king. It was recommended to the king that he should go down into the court-yard, among the troops stationed there for his defense ; that his presence might possibly awaken sympathy and enthusiasm in his behalf. The king and queen, with their son and daugh- ter, and Madame Elizabeth, went down with throbbing hearts to visit the ranks of their de- fenders. They were received with derisive io 246 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [179^5 Extremity M. The mother and the qaee* an officer, two pistols, and, presenting them to the king, exclaimed, " Now, sire, is the time to show yourself, and if we must perish, let us perish with glory." The king calmly received the pistols, and silentfy handed them back te the officer. " Madame," said the messenger, " are yor prepared to take upon yourself the responsibility of the death of the king, of yourself, of your children, and of all who are here to defend you ? All Paris is on the march. Time presses. In a few moments it will be too late." The queen cast a glance upon her daughter, and a mother's fears prevailed. The crimson blood mounted to her temples. Then, again, she was pale as a corpse. Then, rising from her seat, she said, " Let us go." It was seven o'clock in the morning. The king and queen, with their two children, Madame Elizabeth, and a few personal friends, descended the great stair-case of the Tuileriaa, to pass out through the bands of soldiers and the tumultuous mob to the hall of the Assem- bly. At the stair-case there was a large con- course of men and women, gesticulating with fury, who refused to permit the royal famiy to depart The tumult was such that the mem* 248 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1792 The royal family take refuge in the Auembly. The king'* ipeech bers of the royal family were separated from each other , and thus they stood for a moment mingled with the crowd, listening to language of menace and insult, when a deputy assured the mob that an order of the Assembly had sum- moned the royal family to them. The rioters then gave way, and the mournful group passed out of the door into the garden. They forced their way along, surrounded by a few friends, through imprecations, insults, gleaming dag- gers, and dangers innumerable, until they ar- rived at the hall of the Assembly, which the king was with difficulty enabled to enter, in consequence of the immense concourse which crowded him, thirsting for his blood, and yet held back by an unseen hand. As the king en- tered the hall, he said, with dignity, to the pres- ident, "I have come here to save the nation from the commission of a great crime. I shall always consider myself, with my family, safe in your hands." The royal family sat down upoc a bench. Mournful silence pervaded the hall A more sorrowful, heart-rending sight mortal eyes have seldom seen. The father, the moth- er, the saint-like sister, the innocent and help- less children, had found but a momentary ref- uge from cannibals, who were roaring like 1792.] IMPRISONMENT. 349 Tba Kpiare box. Th* Wag'i Mranity wolves around the hall, and battering at the doors to break in and slake their vengeance with blood. It was seriously apprehended that the mob would make a rush, and sprinkle the blood of the royal family upon the very floor of the sanctuary where they had sought a refuge. Behind the seat of the president there was a oox about ten feet square, constituting a seat reserved for reporters, guarded by an iron rail- ing. Into this box the royal family were crowd- ed for safety. A few friends of the king gath- ered around the box. The heat of the day was almost insupportable. Not a breath of air could penetrate the closely-packed apartment; and the heat, as of a furnace, glowed in the room. Scarcely had the royal family got into this frail retreat, when the noise without informed them that their friends were falling before the daggers of assassins, and the greatest alarm was felt lest the doors should be driven in by the merciless mob. In this awful hour, the king appeared as calm, serene, and unconcerned as if he were the spectator of a scene in which he had no in- terest. The countenance of the queen exhib- ited all the nnvanquished firmness of her soul, as with Hushed cheek and indignant eye she looked upon the drama of terror and confusion* 250 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1792 The mob at the palace. Brutal massacre of the king's friend* which was passing. The young princess wept, and her cheeks were marked with the furrows which her tears, dried by the heat, had left. The young dauphin appeared as cool and self- possessed as his father. The rattling fire of ar- tillery, and the report of musketry at the palace, proclaimed to the royal family and the affrighted deputies the horrid conflict, or, rather, massacre which was raging there. Immediately after the king and queen had left the Tuileries, the mob broke in at every avenue. A few hundred Swiss soldiers left there remained faithful to the king. The conflict was short the massa- ore awful. The infuriated multitude rushed through the halls and the apartments of the spacious palace, murdering, without mercy and without distinction of age or sex, all the friends of the king whom they encountered. The mu- tilated bodies were thrown out of the windows to the mob which filled the garden and the court The wretched inmates of the palace fled, pur- sued in every direction. But concealment and escape were alike hopeless. Some poor crea- tures' leaped from the windows and clambered np the marble monuments. The wretches re- frained from firing at them, lest they should in- jure the statuary, but pricked them with theii 1792.] IMPRISONMEHT. 251 >% mob ok th fmlmee. Th dead bodle of the Ro%llt burned bayonets till they compelled them to drop down, and then murdered them at their feet. A pack of wolves could not have been more merciless. The populace, now rising in their resistlest power, with no law and no authority to restrain them, gave loose rein to vengeance, and, having glutted themselves with blood, proceeded tt> sack f > palace. Its magnificent furniture, and splendid mirrors, and costly paintings, were dashed to pieces and thrown from the windows, when the fragments were eagerly caught by those below and piled up for bonfires. Drunken wretches staggered through all the most private apartments, threw themselves, with blood-soak ed boots, upon the bed of the queen, ransacked her drawers, made themselves merry over her notes, and letters, and the various articles of her toilet, and polluted the very air of the palace by their vulgar and obscene ribaldry. As night approached, huge fires were built, upon which the dead bodies of the massacred Royalists were thrown, and all were consumed. During all the long hours of that dreadful day, and until two o'clock tJie ensuing night, the royal family remained, almost without a change of posture, in the narrow seat which had nerved them r or an asylum. Who can measure 252 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1792 fhe king dethroned. Th royal family removed to the Peuillanti the amount of their endurance during these fifteen hours of woe ? An act was passed, du ring this time, in obedience to the demands of the mob, dethroning the king. The hour of midnight had now come and gone, and still the royal sufferers were in their comfortless impris- onment, half dead with excitement and exhaus- tion. The young dauphin had fallen asleep in his mother's arms. Madame Elizabeth and the princess, entirely unnerved, were sobbing with uncontrollable grief. The royal family were then transferred, for the remainder of the night, to some deserted and unfurnished rooms in the old monastery of the Feuillants. Some beds and mattresses were hastily collected, and a few coarse chairs for their accommodation. As soon as they had entered these cheerless rooms, and were alone, the king prostrated himself upon his knees, with his family clinging around him, and gave utterance to the prayer, " Thy trials, O God ! are dreadful. Give us courage to bear them. We adore the hand which chastens, as that which has so often blessed us. Have mercy on those who have died fighting in our defense." Utter exhaustion enabled the unhappy family to find a few hours of agitated sleep. The sun arose Jio ensuing morning with burning rays, 1792 IMPRISONMENT 268 Bitter lufferingB of the royal family. Taken back to the Assembly and, as they fell upon the eyelids of the queen, she looked wildly around her for a moment upon the cheerless scene, and then, with a shudder, exclaiming, " Oh! I hoped it was all a dream,** buried her face again in her pillow. The attend ants around her burst into tears. " Yon see, my unhappy friends," said Maria, " a woman even more unhappy than yourselves, for she has caused all your misfortunes." The queen wept bitterly as she was informed of the massacre of her friends the preceding day. Already the royal family felt the pressure of poverty. They were penniless, and had to borrow some gar- ments for the children. The king and queen could make no change in their disordered dress. At ten o'clock in the morning, a guard came and conducted the royal family again to the As- sembly. Immediately the hall was surrounded by a riotous mob, clamoring for their blood. At one moment the outer doors were burst open, and the blood-thirsty wretches made a rush for the interior. The king, believing that their final hour had come, begged his friends to seek their own safety, and abandon him and his fam- ily to their fate. The day of agitation and ter- ror, however, passed away, and, as the gloom of night again darkened the city, the illustrious" IB MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1792 The royal family consigned to the Temple. Advance of tb* allle* sufferers were reconveyed to the Feuillants. All their friends were driven from them, and guards were placed over them, who, by rudeness and insults, did what they could to add bitter- ness to their captivity. It was decided by the Assembly that, they should all be removed to the prison of the Tern- pie. At three o'clock the next day t w o car- riages were brought to the door, and the royal family wore conveyed through the thronged streets and by the most popular thoroughfares to the prison. The enemies of royalty appeared to court the ostentatious display of its degrada tion. As the carriages were slowly dragged along, an immense concourse of spectators lined the way, and insults and derision were heaped upon them at every step. At last, after two hours, in which they were constrained to drain the cup of ignominy to its dregs, the carriages rolled under the gloomy arches of the Temple, and their prison doors were closed against them In the mean time tne allied army was advanc- ing with rapid strides toward the city. The most dreadful consternation jeigned in the me- trox>li. The populace rose in it* rage to mas- sacre all suspected of being in fror of royalty The prisons were crowded with the victim* of 1792.J IMPRISONMENT. 255 suspicion. The rage of the mob would not wait for trial. The prison doors were burst open, and a general and awful massacre ensued. There was no mercy shown to the innocence of youth or to female helplessness. The streets of Paris were red with the blood of its purest citizens, and the spirit of murder, with unre- strained license, glutted its vengeance. In ono awful day and night many thousands perished The walls of rock and iron of the Temple alone protected the royal family from a similar fate. The Temple was a dismal fortress which stood in the heart of Paris, a gloomy memorial of past ages of violence and crime. It was sit- uated not far from the Uastile, and inclosed within its dilapidated yet massive walls a vast space of silence and desolation. In former ages cowled monks had moved with noiseless tread through its spacious corridors, and their matins and vespers had vibrated along the stone arch- es of this melancholy pile. But now weeds choked its court-yard, and no sounds were heard in its deserted apartments but the shrieking of the wind as it rushed through the grated win- dows and whistled around the angles of tha towers. The shades of night were adding it the gloom of this wretched abode as the cap 256 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1792. Tower of the Temple. Apartments of tho royal family. tives wore led into its deserted and unfurnished cells. It was after midnight before the roomb for their imprisonment were assigned to them. It was a night of Egyptian darkness. Soldiera with drawn swords guarded them, as, by tho light of a lantern, they picked their way through the rank weeds of the castle garden, and over piles of rubbish, to a stone tower, some thirty feet square and sixty feet high, to whose damp, cheerless, and dismal apartments they were con- signed. " Where are you conducting us ?" in- quired a faithful servant who had followed the fortunes of his royal master. The officer re- plied, " Thy master has been used to gilded roofs, but now he will see how the assassins of the people are lodged." Madame Elizabeth was placed in a kind of kitchen, or wash-room, with a truckle bed in it, on the ground floor. The second floor of the Tower was assigned to the attendants of the household. One common wooden bedstead and a few old chairs were the only furniture af the room. The third floor was assigned to the king, and queen, and the two children. A foot- man had formerly slept in the room, and had left suspended upon the walls some coarse and vulgar prints. Tin king, immediately glancing THE TOWKB OF THE TEMPLE. 1117 1792.] IMPRISQNMKNT. 251* Otwcene pictures. Resource* of th prtan> at them, took them down and turned their faces to the wall, exclaiming, " I would not have my daughter see such things." The king and the children soon fell soundly asleep ; but no re- pose came to the agita >al mind of Maria An- toinette. Her lofty anrf unbending spirit felt these indignities and atrocities too keenly. She spent the night in silent tears, and indulging in the most gloomy forebodings of the fate which yet awaited them. The morning sun arose, but to show still more clearly the dismal aspect of the prison. But few rays could penetrate the narrow windows of the tower, and blinds of oaken plank were so constructed that the inmates could only look out upon the sky. A very humble breakfast was provided for them, and then they began to look about to see what resources their prison afforded to beguile the weary hours. A few books were found, such as an odd volume of Horace, and a few volumes of devotional treatises, which had long been slumbering, moth-eaten, in these deserted cells, where, in ages that were past monks had performed their severe devotions The king immediately systematized the hours, and sat down to the regular employment of teaching his children The son and the daugh- 260 MJRI\ ANTOINETTE [1792 Employment! of the rojrm. funflj. Severe restriction* tor, with minds prematurely developed by the agitations and excitements in the midst of which they had been cradled, clung to their parents with the most tender affection, and mitigated the horrors of their captivity by manifesting the most engaging sweetness of disposition, and by prosecuting their studies with untiring vigor. The queen and Madame Elizabeth employed themselves with their needles. They break- fasted at nine o'clock, and then devoted the fore- noon to reading and study. At one o'clock they were permitted to walk for an hour, for exercise, in the court-yard of the prison, which had long been consigned to the dominion of rubbish and weeds. But in these walks they were daily exposed to the most cruel insults from the guards that were stationed over them. At two o'clock they dined. During the long hours of the even- ing the king read aloud. At night, the queen prepared the children for bed, and heard them repeat their prayers. Every day, however more severe restrictions were imposed upon the captives. They were soon deprived of pens and paper ; and then scissors, knives, and even need- les were taken away, under the pretense thai they might be the instruments of suicide. They were allowed no communication cf any kind 17^2.] IMPRISONMENT. 2(55$ Manner of obtaining new*. The PrineeM LamwJU. with their friends without, and were debarre* from all acquaintance with any thing trans- piring in the world. In that gloomy tower of stone and iron they were buried. A faithful servant, however, adroitly opened communica- tion with a news boy, who, under the pretense of selling the daily papers, recounted under their prison windows, in as loud a voice as he could, the leading articles of the journals he had for sale. The servant listened at the window with the utmost care, and then privately communi- cated the information to the king and queen. The fate of the Princess Lamballe, who p< r- ished at this time, is highly illustrative of the horrors in the midst of which all the Royalists lived. This lovely woman, left a widow at eighteen, was attracted to the queen by her misfortunes, and became her most intimate and devoted friend. She lodged in an apartment adjoining to the queen's, that she might share all her perils. Occasionally the princess was absent to watch over and cheer an aged friend the Duke de Penthievre, her father-in-law, who resided at the Chateau de Vernon. She had gone a short time before the 20th of June to risit the aged duke, and Maria Antoinette, who oresaw the terrible storm about to burst upon 264 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1792 Marlm'i letter to the PrlnceM de Lambulle. She rujolni the quen them, wrote the following touching letter to hei friend, urging her not to return to the sufferings and dangers of the Tuileries. The letter was found in the hair of the Princess de Lamballe after her assassination. " Do not leave Vernon, my dear Lamballe, before you are perfectly recovered. The good Duke de Penthievre would be sorry and dis- tressed, and we must all take care of his ad- vanced age and respect his virtues. I have so often told you to take heed of yourself, that, if you love me, you must think of yourself; we shall require all of our strength in the times in which we live. Oh ! do not return, or return as late as possible. Your heart would be too deeply wounded ; you would have too many tears to shed over my misfortunes you, who loved me so tenderly. This race of tigers which infests the 'kingdom would cruelly enjoy itself if it knew all the sufferings we undergo. Adieu , my dear Lamballe; I am always thinking of you, and you know I never change;" The princess, notwithstanding this advice hastened to join her friend and to share her fate She stood by the side of the queen during the sleeplessness of the night preceding the 20th f June, and clung to her during all those long 1792.] IMPRISONMENT. 265 The prlneeM eparated from the queen. She ti throw* Into prlH and terrific hours in which the mob filled her apartment with language of obscenity, menace, and rage. She accompanied the royal family to the Assembly, shared with them the cheer- less night in the old monastery of the Feuillants, and followed them to the gloomy prison of the Temple. The stern decree of the Assembly, de- priving the royal family of the presence of any of their friends, excluded the princess from the prison. She still, however, lived but to weep over the sorrows of those whom she so tenderly loved. She was soon arrested as a Loyalist, and plung- ed, like the vilest criminal, into the prison of La Force. For the crime of loving the king and queen she was summoned to appear before the Revolutionary tribunal. The officers found her lying upon her pallet in the prison, surround- ed by other wretched victims of lawless violence, scarcely able to raise her head from her pillow. She entreated them to leave her to die where he was. One of the officers leaned over her bed, and whispered to her that they were her friends, and that her life depended upon her en- tire compliance with their directions. She im- mediately arose and accompanied the guard down the prison stairs to the door, There two 266 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1792 Trial of the princes*. She refuse* to f wv brutal-looking wretches, covered with blood, stood waiting to receive her. As they grasped her arms, she faulted. It was long befoie she recovered. As soon as she revived she was led before the judges. " Swear," said one of them, " that you love liberty and equality ; and swear that you hate all kings and queens." "I am willing to swear the first," she replied, "but as to hatred of kings and queens, I can not swear it, for it is not in my heart." Another judge, moved with pity by her youth and innocence, bent over her and whispered, " Swear any thing, or you are lost." She still remained silent. " Well," said one, " you may go, but when you get into the street, shout Vive la nation /" The court-yard was filled with assassins, who cut down, with pikes and bludgeons, the condemn- ed as they were led out from the court, and the mutilated and gory bodies of the slain were strewn over the pavement. Two soldiers took her by the arm to lead her out. As she passed from the door, the dreadful sight froze her heart with terror, and she exclaimed, forgetful of the peril, " O God ! how horrible !" One of the soldiers, by a friendly impulse, immediately cov- ered her mouth with his hand, that her excla- mations might not be heard. She was led into 1792.] IMPRISONMENT. 26? AMMiB*tiaB *J the prtaceM. Brutality of toe tnofe. the street, filled with assassins thirsting for the blood of the Royalists, and had advanced but a few steps, when a journeyman barber, stagger, ing with intoxication and infuriated with car- nage, endeavored, in a kind of brutal jesting, to strike her cap from her head with his long pike. The blow fell upon her forehead, cutting a deep gash, and the blood gushed out over her face The assassins around, deeming this the signa for their onset, fell upon her. A blow from a bludgeon laid her dead upon the pavement. One, seizing her by the hair, with a saber out off her head. Others tore her garments from her graceful limbs, and, cutting her body into fragments, paraded the mutilated remains upon their pikes through the streets. The dissever- ed head they ^re into an ale house, and drank and danced aiound the ghastly trophy in horrid carousal. The rioting multitude then, in the phrensy of intoxication, swarmed through the streets to the Temple, to torture the king and qneen with the dreadful spectacle. The king, hearing the shoutings and tumultuous laugh- ter of the mob, went to the window, and rec- ognized, in the gory head thrust up to him upon the point of a pike, the features of his much-loved friend. He immediately led the 268 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1792 Dreadful apprehension*. Increased erertti** queen to another part of the room, that she might be shielded from the dreadful spectacle. Such were the flashes ol terror which were fver gleaming through the bars of their win- dows. The horrors of each passing moment were magnified by the apprehension of still more dreadful evils to come. There was, how ever, one consolation yet left them. They were permitted to cling together. Looked in each other's arms, they could bow hi prayer, and by sympathy and love sustain their fainting hearts. It was soon, however, thought that these in- dulgences were too great for dethroned royalty to enjoy. But a few days of, their captivity had passed away, when, at midnight, they were aroused by an unusual uproar, and a band of brutal soldiers came clattering into their room with lanterns, and, in the most harsh and in- sulting manner, commanded the immediate ex- pulsion of all the servants and attendants of the royal family. Expostulation and entreaty were alike unavailing. The captives were stripped of all their friends, and passed the re- mainder of the night hi sleeplessness and hi de- spair. With the light of the morning they en- deavored to nerve themselves to bear with pa- tience this new trial. The king performed th 1792.] IMPRISONMENT. 269 Fhe queen groeily insulted. The king separated from his family part of a nurse in aiding to wash and dress the children. For the health of the children, they front into the court-yard of the prison before linner for exercise and the fresh air. A sol- iier, stationed there to guard them, came up deliberately to the queen, and amused his com- panions by puffing tobacco smoke from his pipe into her face. The parents read upon the walls the names of their children, described as " whelps who ought to be strangled." Six weeks of this almost unendurable agony passed away, when, one night, as the unhappy captives were clustered together, finding in their mutual and increasing affection a solace for all their woes, six municipal officers entered the tower, and read a decree ordering the entire separation of the king from the rest of his fam- ily. No language can express the consterna- tion of the sufferers in view of this cruel meas- ure. Without mercy, the officers immediately executed the barbarous command, by tearing the king from the embraces of his agonized wife and his grief-distracted children. The king overwhelmed with anguish in view of the suffer- ings which his wife and children must endure, most earnestly implored them not to separata him from hi family. They were inflexibly 870 MARIA ANTOINETTE [1792 Wretched Ute of the king. The queen' mgulsh at the npantlor and, hardly allowing the royal family one mo- ment for their parting adieus, hurried the king away. It was the dark hour of a gloomy night The few rays of light from the lanterns guided them through narrow passages, and over piles of rubbish to a distant angle of the huge and dilapidated fortress, where they thrust the king into an unfurnished cell, and, looking the door upon him, they left him with one tallow candle to make visible the gloom and the solitude. There was, in one corner, a miserable pallet, and heaps of moldering bricks and mortar were scattered over the damp floor. The king threw himself, in utter despair, upon this wretched bed, and counted, till the morning dawned, the steps of the sentinel pacing to and fro before his door At length a small piece of bread and a bottle of water were brought him for his breakfast. The anguish of the queen in the endurance of this most cruel separation was apparently as deep as human nature could experience. Her woe amounted to delirium. Pale and haggard, he walked to and fro, beseeching her jailers that they would restore to her and to her chil dren the husband and the father. Her pathetic entreaties touched even th^ir hearts of stone ** I do believe," said one of them, " that thes 1792.] IMPRISONMENT. The king MM hii family ooeuttMuDy. Condition of the captive* infernal women will make even rne weep." After some time, they consented that the king should occasionally be permitted to partake hit meals with his family, a guard being always present to hear what they should say. Imme- diately after the meal, he was to be taken baok to his solitary imprisonment. Such was the condition of the royal family during a period of about four months, varied by the capricious mercy or cruelty of the different persons who were placed as guards over them Their clothes became soiled, threadbare, and tattered ; and they were deprived of all means of repairing their garments, lest they should convert needles and scissors into instruments of suicide. The king was not allowed the use of a razor to remove his beard ; and the luxury of a barber to perform that essential part of his toilet was an expense which his foes could not incur. It was the studied endeavor of those who now rode upon the crested yet perilous bil- lows of power, to degrade royalty to the lowest depths of debasement and contempt that the beheading of the king and the queen might be regarded as merely the execution of a male and a female felon dragged from the loathsome don* geons of crime. 272 MAAIA ANTOINETTE [1792 Onrinou* preparation*. Tke king lummoned before the OmretitioB CHAPTER X. EXECUTION OP THE KINO. ON the llth of December, 1792, just four months after the royal family had been consigned to the Temple, as the captives were taking their breakfast, a great noise of the roll- ing of drums, the neighing of horses, and the tramp of a numerous multitude was heard around the prison walls ; soon some one entered, and informed the king that these were the prep- arations which were making to escort him to his trial. The king knew perfectly well that this was the step which preceded his execution, and, as he thought of the awful situation of his family, he threw himself into his chair and buried his face in his hands, and for two hours remained in that attitude immovable. He was roused from his painful revery by the entrance af the officers to conduct him to the bar of hit judges, from whom he was aware he could ex- pect no mercy. " I follow you," said the king, " not in obedience to the orders of the Conven don, but because my enemies are the more pow- erful." He put on his brown great-ooat ami 1792.J EXECUTION OF THE KINO. 273 The king before the Convention. Charge* brought against him. hat, and, silently descending the stairs to the door of the tower, entered a carriage which was there awaiting him. As he had long been de- prived of his razors, his chin and cheeks were covered with masses of hair. His garments hung loosely aicund his emaciated frame, and all dignity of aspect was lost in the degraded condition to which designing cruelty had re- duced him. The captive monarch was escorted through the streets by regiments of Cavalry, in. fantry; and artillery, every man furnished with fifteen rounds of ammunition to repel any at- tempts at a rescue. A countless throng of people lined the streets through which the illus- trious prisoner was conveyed. The multitude gazed upon the melancholy procession in pro- found silence. He soon stood before the bar of the Convention. " Louis," said the president, "the French nation accuses you. You are bout to hear the charges which are to be pre- ferred. Louis, be seated." The king listened with perfect tranquillity and self-pogsession to a long catalogue of accusations, in which hia efforts to sustain the falling monarchy, and his exertions to protect himself and family from in suits and death, were construed into crimes against the nation 1118 274 MARIA ANTOINETTE. \1792 The king beg* for morse! of bread. He U taken back to prUoa The examination of the king was long, mi nute, and was conducted by those who were im- patient for his blood. At its close, the king, perfectly exhausted by mental excitement ano the want of refreshment, was led back into the waiting- roorr of the Convention. He was scarcely able to stand for faintness. He saw a soldier eating a piece of bread. He approached, and, in a whisper, begged him for a piece, and ate it. Here was the monarch of thirty millions of people, in the heart of his proud capital, and with all his palaces around him, actually beg- ging bread of a poor soldier. The king was again placed in the carriage, and conveyed back to his prison in the Temple. As the cortege passed slowly by the palace of the Tuileries, the scene of all his former grandeur and happiness, the king gazed long and sadly on the majestia pile, so lost in thought that he heeded not, and apparently heard not the insulting cries which were resounding around him. As the king en- tered the Temple, he raised his eyes most wist- fully to the queen's apartment, but the windows were so barred that no glances could be inter- changed. The king was conducted to his apart- ment, and was informed that he could no longei be permitted to hold any communication r 1793.] EXECUTION OF THE KINO. 273 Advance of the allies. Clamor for the king's life ever with the other members of his family. He contrived, however, by means of a tangle of thread, in which was inclosed a piece of paper, perforated by a needle, to get a note to the queen, and to receive a few words in return. He, however, felt that his doom was sealed, and began from that hour to look forward to his im- mortality. He made his will, in which he spoke in most affecting terms of his wife, and his chil- dren, and his enemies, commending them all to the protection of God. An indescribable gloom now reigned through- out Paris. The allied armies on the frontiers were gradually advancing. The French troops were defeated. It was feared that the Royalists would rise, and join the invaders, and rescue the king. Desperadoes rioted through the streets, clamoring for the blood of their monarch. With knives and bludgeons they surrounded the Con- vention, threatening the lives of all if they did not consign the king to the guillotine. The day for the final decision came Shall the king live or die ? On that day the heart of the metropo- lis throbbed as never before. It was the 20th of January, 1793. The Convention had already been in uninterrupted session for fifteen hours The clamor of the tumultuous and threatening 276 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1793 The king condemned to death. Emotion of Malesherbe* mob gave portentous warning of the doom which awaited the members of the Assembly should they dare to spare the life of the king. One by one the deputies mounted the tribune as their names were called in alphabetical order, and gave their vote. For some time death and exile seemed equally balanced. The results of the vote were read. The Convention comprised seven hundred and twenty-one voters, three hundred and thirty-four of whom voted for exile, and three hundred and eighty-seven for death. Louis sat alone in his prison, calmly await- ing the decision. He laid down that night knowing that his doom was sealed, and yet not knowing what that doom Was. Malesherbes, the venerable friend who had volunteered for his defense, came to communicate the mournful tidings. He fell at the king's feet so overcome with emotion that he could not speak. The king understood the language of his silence and his tears, and uttered himself the sentence, " Death." But a few moments elapsed before the officers of the Convention came, in all the pomp and parade of the land, to communicate to the king his doom to the guillotine in twenty-four hours. With perfect calmness, and fixing his sye immovably upon his Judges he heard the 1793.J EXECUTION OF THE KIMO. 277 The king's demands. The- Abb6 Edgvwortki reading of the sentence. The reading conclud- ed, the king presented a paper to the deputies, which he first read to them in the clear and commanding tones of a monarch upon his throne, lemanding a respite of three days, hi order to prepare to appear before God; also permission to see his family, and to converse with a priest The Convention, angry at these requests, in- formed the king that he might see any priest he pleased, and that he might see his family, but that the execution must take place hi twen- ty-four hours from the time of the sentence. Darkness had again fallen upon the city, when the minister of religion, M. Edge worth, was led through the gloomy streets, to administer the consolations of piety to the condemned monarch. As he entered the apartment of the king, he fell at his feet and burst into tears. Louis for a moment wept, when, recovering himself, he said, " Pardon me this momentary weakness. I have so long lived amcng enemies, that habit has rendered me insensible to hatred. The sight of a faithful friend restores my sensibility, and moves me to tears in spite of myself." A long conversation ensued, in which the king inquir- ed, with the greatest interest, respecting tne ftrte of his numerous friends. He read his will 278 MAR A AfToiNaxTE. [1793, The laU interview. AnguUh of the royl funfly with the utmost deliberation, his voice falter- ing only when he alluded to his wife, children, and sister. At seven o'clock he was to have his last agonizing interview with his beloved fami- ly, and the thought of this agitated him far more than the prospect of the scaffold. The hour for the last sad meeting arrived, The king, having prepared his heart by prayer for the occasion, descended into a small unfur- nished room, where he was to meet his family The door opened. The queen, leading his son, and Madame Elizabeth, leading his daughter, with trembling, fainting steps, entered the room Not a word was uttered. The king threw him- self upon a bench, drew the queen to his right side, his sister to the left, and their arms en- circled his neck, and their heads hung upon his breast. The son climbed upon his father's knee, clinging with his arms franticly to his bo- som ; and the daughter, throwing herself at his feet, buried her head in his lap, her beautiful hair, in disordered ringlets, falling over her shoul- ders. A long half hour thus passed, in which not one single articulate word was spoken, but the anguish of these united hearts was express- ed in cries and lamentations which pierced through the stone walls of their prison, and 1793.J EXECUTION OF THE KlNO. 279 Hie lart embrc. were heard by passers by in the streets. But human nature could not long endure this intens- ity of agony. Total exhaustion ensued. Their tears dried upon their cheeks ; embraces, kisses, vhispers of tenderness and love, and woe ensued, which lasted for two hours. The king then clasped them each in a long embrace, pressing his lips to their cheeks, and prepared to retire. Clinging to each other in an inseparable group, they approached the stair- case which the king was to ascend, when their piercing, heart-rending cries were renewed. The king, summoning all his fortitude to his aid, tore himself from them, and, in most ten* der accents, cried "Adieu! adieu!" hastily ascended the stairs and disappeared, having par- tially promised that he would see them again in the morning. The princess royal fell faint- ing upon the floor, and was borne insensible to her room. The king, reaching his apartment, threw himself into a chair, and exclaimed, " What an interview I have had ! Why do I love so fondly ? Alas ! why am I so fondly loved ? But we have now done with time, let us occupy ourselves with eternity." The hour of midnight had now arrived. The king tnrew himself upon his bed, and slept a* 280 MARIA ANTOINETTE. The king receives the saeramont Mementoes to his family calmly, as peacefully, as though he had never known a sorrow. At five o'clock he was awak aned, and received the sacrament of the Lord's Supper. Then, taking a small parcel from his bosom, and removing his wedding ring from his finger, he said to an attendant, " After my death, I wish you to give this seal to my son, this ring to the queen. Say to the queen, my dear chil- dren, and my sister, that I had promised to see them this morning, but that I desired to spare them the agony of this bitter separation twice over. How much it has cost me to part with- out receiving their last embraces !" Here his utterance was impeded by sobs. He then call- ed for some scissors, that he might cut off locks of hair for his family. As he soon after stood by the stove, warming himself, he exclaimed, (< How happy am I that I maintained my Chris- tian faith while on the throne ! What would have been my condition now, were it not foi this hope !" Soon faint gleams of the light of day began to penetrate through the ircn bars and planks which guarded his windows. It was the signal for the beating of drums, the tramp of armed men, the rolling of heavy carriages of artillery, and the clattering of horses' hoofs. As the esoort were arri v ing at their stations in the 1793.] EXECUTION OF THB Kiwe. 281 The king lummoned to execution. Brutality of the officer* court-yard of the Temple, a great noise was heard upon the stair-case. " They have come for me," said the king ; and, rising with perfect calmness and without a tremor, he opened the door. It was a false summons. Again and again, under various pretexts, the door was opened, until nine o'clock, when a tumultuous noise upon the stair-case announced the ap- proach of a body of armed men. Twelve mu- nicipal officers and twelve soldiers entered the apartment. The soldiers formed in two lines The king with a serene air, placed himself be tween the double lines, and, looking to one of the municipal officers, said, presenting to him a roll of paper, which was his last will and test- ament, " I beg of you to transmit this paper to the queen." The municipal brutally replied; " That is no affair of mine. I am here to con duct you to the scaffold." " True," the king replied, and gave the paper to another, who re- ceived it. The king then, taking his hat and declining his coat, notwithstanding the severity of the cold, said, with a dignified gesture and a tone of command, " Let us go." The king led the way, followed rather than conducted by hi escort. Descending the stairs, he met the turnkey, who had been disrespectful to him the 282 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [179& Tba brutal Jailer. The king conducted to execntkm night before, and whom the king had reproach- ed for his insolence. Louis immediately ap- proached the unfeeling jailor, and said to him, "Mathey, I was somewhat warm with you yesterday ; forgive me, for the sake of this hour." The imbruted monster turned upon his heel without any reply. As he crossed the court-yard of the Temple, he anxiously gazed upon the windows of the apartment where the queen, his sister, and his children were imprisoned. The windows were so guarded by plank shutters that no glances from the loved ones within could meet his eye. As the heart of the king dwelt upon the scenes of anguish which he knew must be passing there, it seemed for a moment that ,iis fortitude would fail him. But, with a vi olent effort, he recovered his composure and passed on. At the entrance of the Temple a carriage awaited the king. Two soldiers en- tered the carriage, and took seats by his side The king's confessor also rode in the carriage It was the 21st of January, 1793, a gloom) winter's day. Dark clouds lowered in the sky. Fog and smoke darkened the city. The atmos. phere was raw, and cold in the extreme. Na seemed . in harm \tav with man's deed o/ 1793 j EXECUTION OF THE KING. A ud proceMion. Admirable calmness of the kinft cruelty and crime. The shops were all closed, the markets were empty. No citizens were al* lowed to cross the streets on the line of march) or even to show themselves at the windows. Sixty drums kept up a deafening clamor as the vast procession of cavalry, infantry, and ar- tillery marched before, behind, and on each side of the carriage. Cannon, loaded with grape- shot, with matches lighted, guarded the main street on the line of march, to prevent the pos- sibility of an attempt even at rescue. The noise of the drums, the clatter of the iron hoofs of the horses, and the rumbling of the heavy pieces of artillery over the pavements prevented all dis- course, and the king, leaning back hi his car- riage, surrendered himself to such reflections as the awful hour would naturally suggest. The perfect calmness of the king excited the admi- ration, of those who were near his person, and a few hearts in the multitude, touched with pity, gave utterance to the cry of " Pardon ! pardon!" Tn'3 sounds, however, died away in the throng, awakening no sympathetic response. As the procession moved along, no sound proceeded from human lips. A feeling of awe appeared to have taken possession of the whole city. The wmtiment of loyalty had, for so many centra- MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1793 Attempt to rescue the king. lu Mini* ries, pervaded the bosoms of the French people, that they could not conduct their monarch t the scaffold without the deepest emotions of awe. A feeling of consternation oppressed every leart in view of the deed now to be perpetrated. But it was too late to retract. Perhaps there was not an individual in that vast throng who did not shudder in view of the crime of that day At one spot on the line of march, seven or eight young men, in the spirit of desperate heroism which the occasion excited, hoping that the pity of the multitude would cause them to rally for their aid, broke through the line, sword in hand, and, rushing toward the ^carriage, shouted, "Help for those who would save the king." Three thousand young men had enrolled them- selves in the conspiracy to respond to this call, But the preparations to resist such an attempt were too formidable to allow of any hopes of success. The few who heroically made the movement were instantly cut down. At the Place de la Revolution, one hundred thousand people were gathered in silence around the scaf- fold. The instrument of death, with its blood- red beams and posts, stood pror/iinent above the multitudinous assemblage i the darrp, murky air 1793.] EXECUTION OF THE KING 28" DM guillotine. AModatton* The guillotine was erected in the center of the Place de la Revolution, directly in the front of the garden of the Tuileries. This celebrated instrument of death was invented in Italy by i physician named Guillotin, and from him re- ceived its name. A heavy ax, raised by ma. shinery between two upright posts, by the touch- ing of a spring fell, gliding down between two grooves, and severed the head from the body with the rapidity of lightning. The palace in which Louis had passed the hours of his infancy, and his childhood, and the days of his early grandeur ; the magnificent gardens of the pal- ace, where he had so often been greeted with acclamations ; the spacious Elysian Fields, the pride of Paris, were all spread around, as if in mockery of the sacrifice which was there to be offered. This whole space was crowded with a countless multitude, clustered upon the house tops, darkening the windows, swinging upon the trees, to witness the tragic spectacle of the be heading of their king. Arrangements had been xnade to have the places immediately around the scaffold filled by the unrelenting foes of the monarch, that no emotions of pity might retard the bloody catastrophe. As the carriage ap- proached the place of execution, the hum of 286 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1793. The king's theughtfulnew. He undreMM hlmseU the mighty multitude was hushed, and a silence, as of death, pervaded the immense throng. At last the carriage stopped at the foot of the scaffold. The king raised his eyes, and said to his confessor, in a low but calm tone, " We have arrived, I think." By a silent gesture the con- fessor assented. The king, ever more mindful of others than of himself, placed his hand upon the knee of the confessor, and said to the officers and executioners who were crowded around the coach, " Gentlemen, I recommend to your pro- tection this gentleman. See that he be not in- sulted after my death. I charge you to watch over him." As no one made any reply, the king repeated the admonition in tones still more earnest. " Yes ! yes !" interrupted one, jeer- ingly, "make your mind easy about that; we will take care of him. Let us alone for that." Three of the executioners then approached the king to undress him. He waved them fmp him with an authoritative gesture, and himself took off his coat, his cravat, and turned down his shirt collar. The executioners then came vrith cords to bind him to a plank. " What do you intend to do?" he exclaimed, indignantly. " We intend to bind you," they replied, as they wized his hands. To be bound was an unex 1793.] EXECUTION OF THE Kixt. 2*7 The king ascends the scaffold. HI* ipeech. pected indignity, at which the blood of the mon- arch recoiled. "No! no!" he exclaimed, "I will never submit to that. Do your business, but you shall not bind me." The king resisted The executioners called for help. A scene of violence was about to ensue. The king turned his eve to his confessor, as if for counsel. " Sire," said the Abbe Edge worth, " submit unresist- ingly to this fresh outrage, as the last resem- blance to the Savior who is about to recom pense your sufferings." Louis raised his eye* to heaven, and said, " Assuredly there needed nothing less than the example of the Savior to induce me to submit to such an indignity." He then reached his hands out to the execution- era, and said, " Do as you will ; I will drink th cup to the dregs." Leaning upon the arm of his friend, he ascended the steep and slippery steps of the guillotine ; then, walking across the platform firmly, he looked for a moment in- tently upon the sharp blade of the ax, and turn- ing suddenly to the populace, exclaimed, in a voice clear and distinct, which penetrated to the remotest extremities of the square, " People, I die innocent of all the crimes laid to my charge. I pardon the authors of my death, and pray God that the blood you are about to shed may never 288 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1793. The last act In the tragedy. Burial of the king 1 * body fall again upon France. And you, nnhappj people" Here the drums were ordered to beat, and the deafening clamor drowned his words. The king turned slowly to the guillotine and surrendered himself to the executioners. He was bound to the plank. " The plank sunk. The blade glided. The head fell." One of the executioners seized the severed head of the monarch by the hair, and, raising the bloody trophy of their triumph, showed it to the shuddering throng, while the blood dripped from it on the scaffold. A few desperadoes dipped their sabers and the points of their pikes in the blood, and, waving them in the air, shouted " Vive la Republique !" The multi- tude, however, responded not to the cry. Ex plosions of artillery announced to the distant parts of the city that the sacrifice was consum- mated. The remains of the monarch were con- veyed on a covered cart to the cemetery of tb Madeleine, and lime was thrown into the grave> that the body might be speedily and entirely consumed. Over the grave where he was buried Napo- leon subsequently began the splendid Temple of Glory, in commemoration of the monarch *nd other victims who fell in the Revolution. 1793.] EXECUTION OF THE KINO. 28ft The blood-red obelisk. Character of I, out* The completion of the edifice was frustrated by the fall of Napoleon. The Bourbons, however, on their restoration to the throne, finished the building, and it is now called the Church of the Madeleine, and it constitutes one of the most beautiful structures of Paris. The spot on which the monarch fell is now marked by a colossal obelisk of blood-red granite, wh.'oh the French government, in 1833, transported from Thebes, in Upper Egypt. Louis was unques- tionably one of the most conscientious and up- right sovereigns who ever sat upon a throne. He loved his people, and earnestly desired to da every thing in his power to promote their wel- fare. And it can hardly be doubted that he was guided through life, and sustained through the awful trial of his death, by the principle of sincere piety. The tidings of his execution sent a thrill of horror through Europe, and fast- ened such a stigma upon Republicanism as to pave the way for the re-erection of the throne 1119 290 MAR;A ANTOINETTE. [179i> SHffertngg of the queen. Announcement of her husband' i deU CHAPTER XI. TRIAL AND EXECUTION OF MARIA AN TOINETTE. the king was suffering upon the guillotine, the queen, with Madame Eliz- abeth and the children, remained in their pris- on, in the endurance of anguish as severe as ould be laid upon human hearts. The queen was plunged into a continued succession of swoons, and when she heard the booming of the artillery, which announced that the fatal ax had fallen and that her husband was headless, her companions feared that her life was also, at the same moment, to be extinguished. Soon the rumbling of wheels, the rolling of heavy pieces of cannon, and the shouts of the multi- tude penetrating through the bars of her cell, proclaimed the return of the procession from the scene of death. The queen was extremely anxious to be informed of all the details of the last moments of the king, but her foes refused her even this donsoktion. Days and nights now lingered slowly along. 1793.] EXECUTION OF THE QUEEN. 291 Cruel decree. M aria's dafecM at her boy. while the captives were perishing in monoto- nous misery. The severity of their imprison- ment was continually increased by new depri- vations. No communications from the world without were permitted to reach their ears. Shutters were so arranged that even the sky was scarcely visible, and no employment what- ever was allowed them to beguile their hours of woe. About four months after the death of the king, a loud noise was heard one night at the door of their chamber, and a band of armed men came tumultuously in, and read to the queen an order that her little son should be entirely sep- arated from her, and imprisoned by himself. The poor child, as he heard this cruel decree, was frantic with terror, and, throwing himself into his mother's arms, shrieked out, "O moth- er ! mother ! mother ! do not abandon me to those men. They will kill me as they did papa " The queen was thrown into a perfect deliriura of mental agony. She placed .her child upon the bed, and, stationing herself before him, with eyes glaring like a tigress, and with almost su- perhuman energy, declared that they should tear her in pieces before they should touch her poor boy. The officers were subdued by this affect- ing exhibition of maternal love, and forbore vi- 292 MARIA ANTOINETTB The dauphfn'i cell. The queen (ummoned to the Conciergeri* olence. For two hours she thus contended against all their solicitations, until, entirety overcome by exhaustion, she fell in a swoon upon the floor. The child was then hurried from the apartment, and placed under the care of a brutal wretch, whose name, Simon, inhu- manity has immortalized. The unhappy child threw himself upon the floor of his cell, and for two days remained without any nourishment The queen abandoned herself to utter despair. Madame Elizabeth and Maria Theresa perform- ed all the service of the chamber, making the beds, sweeping the room, and attending upon the queen. No importunities on the part of Maria Antoinette could obtain for her the fa- vor of a single interview with her child. Three more months passed slowly away, when, early in August, the queen was aroused from her sleep at midnight by armed men, with lanterns, bursting into her room. With unfeel- ing barbarity, they ordered her to accompany them to the prison of the Conciergerie, the most dismal prison in Paris, where those doomed tc die awaited their execution. The queen listen- ed, unmoved, to the order, for her heart had now become callous even to woe. Her daugttei and Madame Elizabeth threw themselves at Che 1793.] EXECUTION >F THE Painful parting*. The Cooclergert* feet of the officers, and most pathetically, but unavailingly, implored them not to deprive them of their only remaining solace. The queen was compelled to rise and dress in the presence of the wretches who exulted over her abasement. She clasped her daughter for one frantic moment convulsively to her heart, covered her with em- braces and kisses, spoke a few words of impas- sioned tenderness to her sister, and then, as if striving by violence to throw herself from the room, she inadvertently struck her forehead a severe blow against the low portal of the door. " Did you hurt you?" inquired one of the men. " Oh no !" was the despairing reply, " nothing now can further harm me." A few lights glimmered dimly from the street lamps as the queen entered the carriage, guard- ed by soldiers, and was conveyed through the somber streets to her last earthly abode. The prison of the Conciergerie consists of a series of subterranean dungeons beneath the floor of the Palais de Justice. More damp, dark, gloomy dens of stone and iron the imagination can not conceive. Down the dripping and slippery steps she was led, groping her way by the feeble light of a tallow candle, until she approached, through a labyrinth of corridors, an iron door. It 294 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1793 Loathsome apartments of the queen. The jailor's wife grated upon its hinges, and she was thrust in, two soldiers accompanying her, and the door was closed. It was midnight. The lantern gave just light enough to show her the horrors of her oelL The floor was covered with mud and water, while little streams trickled down the stone walls. A miserable pallet in one corner, an old pine table and one chair, were all the comforts the kingdom of France could afford its queen. The heart of the wife of the jailer was touched with compassion in view of this unmitigated misery. She did not dare to speak words of kindness, for they would be reported by the guard. She, however, prepared for her some food, ventured to loan her some needles, and a ball of worsted, and communicated intelli- gence of her daughter and son. The Commit- tee of Public Safety heard of these acts of mer- cy, and the jailer and his wife were immediately arrested, and plunged into those dungeons into which they would have allowed the spirit of hu- manity to enter. The shoes of the queen, satu- rated with water, soon fell from her feet. Hor stockings and her dress, from the humidity of the air, were in tatters. Two soldiers, with drawn swords, vtnre stationed by her side night 1793.) EXECUTION or THE QUEEN. 299 The jailer*! daughter. T1 gartoK and day, with the command, never, even for on moment, to turn their eyes from her. The daughter of the new jailer, touched with com- passion, and regardless of the fate of the prede- cessors of her parents, entered her cell every morning to dress her whitened locks, which sor- row had bleached. The queen ventured one day to solicit an additional counterpane for her bed. " How dare you make such a request ?" replied the solicitor general of the commune ; " you deserve to be sent to the guillotine !" The queen succeeded secretly, by means of a tooth- pick, which she converted into a tapestry needle, in plaiting a garter from thread which she plucked from an old woollen coverlet. This memorial of a mother's love she contrived, by stratagem, to transmit to her daughter. This was the richest legacy the daughter of Maria Theresa and the Queen of France could be- queath to her child. That garter is still pre- served as a sacred relic by those who revere the memory and commiserate the misfortunes of Maria Antoinette. Two months of this all but insupportable im- prisonment passed away, when, early in October, he was brought from her dungeon below to th court-room above for her trial. Her 298 MARIA ANTOIMETTB. [1793 Dignity of the queen during her trial. She Is condemned to death was that she abhorred the revolution which had beheaded her husband, and plunged her and her whole family into woes, the remembrance of which it would seem that even eternity could hardly efface. The queen condescended to no defense. She appeared before her accusers in the calm dignity of despair, and yet with a spirit as unbroken and queenly as when she moved in the gilded saloons of Versailles. The queen was called to hear her sentence. It was death within twenty-four hours. Not the tremor of a muscle showed the slightest agitation as the mob, with clappings and shoutings, manifested their hatred for their victim f and their exulta- tion at her doom. Insults and execrations fol- lowed her to the stair-case as she descended again to her dungeon. It was four o'clock in the morning. A few rays of the dawning day struggled through the bars of her prison win- dow, and she seemed to smile with a faint ex- pression of pleasure at the thought that her last day of earthly woe had dawned. She called for pen and ink, and wrote a very affecting let- ter to her sister and children. Having finished the letter, she repeatedly and passionately kiss- ed it, as if it were the last link which bound her to the loved ones from whom she was so 1793.) EXECUTION OF THE Q,UEEM. 298 The queen dressed for the guillotine. Her hands bound. soon to be separated by death. She then, as if done with earth, kneeled down and prayed, and with a tranquillized spirit, threw herself upo* her bed, and fell into a profound slumber. An hour or two passed away, when the kind daughter of the jailer came, with weeping eyea and a throbbing heart, into the cell to dress the queen for the guillotine. It was the 14th of October, 1793. Maria Antoinette arose with alacrity, and, laying aside her prison-worn gar- ments of mourning, put on her only remaining dress, a white robe, emblematic of the joy with which she bade adieu to earth. A white hand- kerchief was spread over her shoulders, and a white cap, bound to her head by a black ribbon, covered her hair. It was a cold and foggy morn- ing, and the moaning wind drove clouds of mist through the streets. But the day had hardly dawned before crowds of people thronged the prison, and all Paris seemed in motion to en- joy the spectacle of the sufferings of their queen At eleven o'clock the executioners entered her tell, bound her hands behind her, and led her out from the prison. The queen had nerved her heart to die in the spirit of defiance to her foes. She thought, perhaps, too much of man, too lit- tle of God. Queenly pride rather than Chrw- 300 MARIA ANTOINUTTK. [1793 Car of the condemned. Indignities heaped upon the queen tian resignation inspired her soul. Expecting to be conducted to the scaffold, as the king had been, in a close carriage, she, for a moment* recoiled with horror when she was led to the ignominious car of the condemned, and was commanded to enter it. This car was much like a common hay cart, entirely open, and guarded by a rude but strong railing. The fe- male furies who surrounded her shouted with laughter, and cried out incessantly, " Down with the Austrian !" " Down with the Austri- an!" The queen was alone in the cart. Her hands were tied behind her. She could not sit down. She could not support herself against the jolting of the cart upon the rough pavement. The car started. The queen was thrown from her equilibrium. She fell this way and that way. Her bonnet was crowded over her eyes. Her gray locks floated in the damp morning air Her coarse dress, disarranged, excited derision. As she was violently pitched to and fro, not- withstanding her desperate endeavors to retain the dignity of her appearance, the wretches shouted, " These are not your cushions of Tri- anon." It was a long ride, through the infuri- ated mob, to tfie scaffold, which was reared di- rectly in front of the garden of the Tuileries 1793.] EXECUTION OP THE QLEEN. 301 4rriTl at the guillotine. The queen' compoui As the oar arrived at the entrance of the gar- dens of the palace where Maria had passed through so many vicissitudes of joy and woe, it stopped for a moment, apparently that the queen might experience a few more emotions of tor- ture as she contemplated the abode of her past grandeur. Maria leaned back upon the rail- ing, utterly regardless of the clamor around her, and fixed her eyes long and steadfastly upon the theater of all her former happiness. The thought of her husband, her children, her home, for a moment overcame her, and a few teara trickled down her cheeks and fell upon the flooi of the cart. But, instantly regaining her com posure, she looked around again upon the mul titude, waving like an ocean over the whole am phitheater, with an air of majesty expressive oi her superiority over all earthly ills. A few turns more of the wheels brought her to the foot of the guillotine. It was upon the same spot where her husband had fallen. She calm- ly, firmly looked at the dreadful instrument of death, scrutinizing all its arrangements, and contemplating, almost with an air of satisfac- tion, the sharp and glittering knife, which was so soon to terminate all her earthly sufferings Two of the executioners assisted her by the el- 302 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1793 The queen'* prayer. Maternal lore bows as she endeavored to descend from the cart. She waited for no directions, but with a firm and yet not hurried tread, ascended the step? of the scaffold. By accident, she trod upon the foot of one of the executioners. " Pardon me !" she exclaimed, with all the affability and grace with which she would have apologized to a cour- tier in the midst of the social festivities of the Little Trianon. She kneeled down, raised her eyes to heaven, and in a low but heart-rending prayer, all forgetful of herself, implored God to protect her sister and her helpless children She was deaf to the clamor of the infuriate mob around her. She was insensible to the dis- honor of her own appearance, with disheveled locks blinding her eyes, and with her faded gar- ments crumpled and disarranged by the rough jostling of the cart. She forgot the scaffold on which she stood, the cords which bound her hands, the blood-thirsty executioners by her side. the fatal knife gleaming above her head. Her thoughts, true to the irrepressible instincts of maternal love, wandered back to the dungeons from whence she had emerged, and lingered with anguish around the pallets where her or- phan, friendless, persecuted children were en- tombed. Her last prayer was the prayer of agonv. She rose from her knees, and, turnina 1793.] EXECUTION OF THE QUBBH. 303 rfaelMtMUen. End of the tragedy her eyes toward the tower of the Temple, and speaking in tones which would have pierced any hearts but those which surrounded her, ex- claimed, " Adieu ! adieu ! once again, my deal children. I go to rejoin your father." She was bound to the plank. Slowly it de- gcended till the neck of the queen was brought under the groove down which the fatal ax was to glide. The executioner, hardened by deed* of daily butchery, could not look upon this spec- tacle of the misery of the Queen of France un- moved. His hand trembled as he endeavored to disengage the ax, and there was a moment's delay. The ax fell. The dissevered head dropped into the basket placed to receive it. The executioner seized it by the hair, gushing with blood, raised it high above his head, and walked around the elevated platform of the guil- lotine, exhibiting the bloody trophy to the as- sembled multitude. One long shout of " Vive la Republique !" rent the air, and the long and dreadful tragedy of the life of Maria Antoinette was closed. The remains of the queen were thrown into a pine coffin and hurried to an obscure burial Upon the records of the Church of La Made- leine we now, read the charge, "For the coffin of the Widow Capet, seven francs " 304 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1793 The daupkln and the princess**. Painful uncertainty CHAPTER XII THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH, THE DAO- PH1N, AND THE PRINCESS RoYAL. T"/1T7~HEN Maria Antoinette was taken front ' * the Temple and consigned to the dun- geons of the Conciergerie, there to await her trial for her life, the dauphin was imprisoned by himself, though but a child seven years of age, in a gloomy cell, where he was entirely ex- cluded from any communication with his aunt and sister. The two latter princesses remained in the room from which the queen had been taken. They were, however, in the most pain- ful uncertainty respecting her fate. Their jail- ers were commanded to give them no informa- tion whatever respecting the external world Their prison was a living tomb, in which they were allowed to breathe, and that was all. Th Princess Elizabeth had surmised, from various little incidents, what had been the fate of the queen, but she tried to cheer the young, and af- fectionate, and still beautiful child with the hope that her mother yet lived, and that they 1793.] THE ROYAL PRINCESSES. 305 Suffering* of the princes**. Their dlnnal oeU might meet again. Eight months of the most dreary captivity rolled slowly away. It was winter, and yet they wem allowed no fire to dispel the gloom and the chill of their celL They were deprived of all books. They were not allowed the use of pens or paper. The long winter nights came. In their cell there was but a few hours during which the rays of the sun struggled faintly through the barred win- dows. Night, long, dismal, impenetrable, like that of Egypt, enveloped them for fifteen hours. They counted the strokes of the clocks in the distant churches. They listened to the hum of the vast and mighty metropolis, like the roar of the surf upon the shore. Reflections full of horror crowded upon them. The king was be- headed. The queen was, they knew not where, either dead or in the endurance of the most fear- ful sufferings. The young dauphin was impris- oned by himself, and they knew only that the gentle, affectionate, idolized child was exposed to every cruelty which barbarism could inflict upon him. What was to be their own fate ? Were they to linger out the remnant of their days in this wretched captivity ? Would their inhuman jailers envy them the consolation they found in each other's arms, and separate them? Were 1120 306 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1799 Painful thoughts. Unwelcome visitor* they also to perish upon the guillotine, where nearly all whom they had loved had already per ished ? Were they ever to be released ? If so what joy could there remain on earth for thorn after theii awful sufferings and bereavements ' Woes, such as they had endured, were too deep ever to be effaced from the mind. Nearly eight months thus lingered slowly along, in which they saw only brutal and insulting jailers, ate the coarsest food, and were clothed in the un- washed and tattered garb of the prison. Time seemed to have stopped its flight, and to have changed into a weary, woeful eternity. On the 9th of May, the Princess Elizabeth and her niece, who had received the name of Maria Theresa in memory of her grandmother, were retiring to bed. They were enveloped in midnight darkness. With their arms around each other's necks, they were kneeling at the foot of the bed in prayer. Suddenly a great noise was heard at the door, accompanied with repeated and violent blows, almost heavy enough to shiver the door from its hinges. Madame Elizabeth hastened to withdraw a bolt, which constituted an inner fastening, when some sol- diers rushed in with their lanterns, and said tc Madame Elizabeth, "You must immediately 1793.] THE ROYAI. PRINCESSES. 307 The prtncewes separated. Brutality of the soldier* follow us." " And my niece," replied the prin cess, ever forgetful of herself in her thoughtful- ness for others, " can she go too ?" " We want you only now !" was the answer ; " we will take care of her by-and-by." The aunt foresaw that the hour for the long-dreaded separation had come. She threw her arms around the neck of the trembling maiden, and wept in uncontrolla- ble grief. The brutal soldiers, unmoved by these tears, loaded them both with reproaches and insults, as belonging to the detested race of kings, and imperiously commanded the Princess Elizabeth immediately to depart. She endeav- ored to whisper a word of hope into the ear of aer despairing niece. " I shall probably soon nturn again, my dear Maria." "No, cito- yenne, you won't," rudely interrupted one of the jailers ; " you will never ascend these stairs again. So take your bonnet and come down." Bathing the face of the young girl with her tears, invoking the blessing of heaven upon her, turning again and again to enfold her in a last embrace, she was led out by the soldiers, aiu? conducted down the dark and damp stairs to the gate. Here the soldiers rudely searched her person anew, and then thrust her irto a carriage. It was midnight Tl ia carriage was 308 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1793 Elizabeth taken before the tribunal. A group of noble captives driven violently through the deserted streets to the Conciergerie. The Tribunal was, even at that hour, in session, for in those days of blood, when the slide of the guillotine had no repose from morning till night, the day did not contain hours enough for the work of condemnation. The princess was conducted immediately into the presence of the Revolutionary Tribunal. A few questions were asked her, and then she was led into a hall, and left to catch such repose as she could upon the bench where Maria An- toinette but a few months before had awaited her condemnation. The morning had hardly dawned when she was again conducted to the Tribunal, in com- pany with twenty-four others, of every age and of both sexes, whose crime was that they were nobles. Ladies were there, illustrious in virtue and rank, who had formerly graced the brilliant assemblies of the Tuileries and of Versailles. Young men, whose family names had been renowned for ages, stood there to answer fo? the crime of possessing a distinguished name, While looking upon this group of nobles, gath- ered before that merciless tribunal, where judg ment was almost certain condemnation, the pub tin accuser, with cruel irony, remarked, " Of 1793.] THE ROYAL PRI^ESBBS. 309 IVial of Mtdame Elizabeth Her condemnation. what can Madame Elizabeth complain, when ghe sees herself at the foot of the guillotine, sur- rounded by her faithful nobility ? She can now fancy herself back again in the gay festivities of Versailles." The charges against Elizabeth were, that she was the sister of a tyrant, and that she loved that royal family whom the nation had adjudged not fit to live. " If my brother had been the tyrant you declare him to have been," the prin- cess remarked, " you would not be where you now are, nor I before you." But it is vain for the lamb to plead with the wolf. She was con- demned to die. She listened to her sentence with the most perfect composure, and almost with satisfaction. The only favor she asked was, that she might see a priest, and receive the consolations of religion, according to the faith she professed. Even this request was denied her. The crime of loyalty was of too deep a dye to allow of any, the slightest, mitigation of punishment. From the judgment hall she was led down into one of the dungeons of the Con- ciergerie, where, with the rest of her compan- ions, she awaited the execution of their doom. It was, indeed, a melancholy meeting. These illustrious captives had formerly dwelt in the 310 MARIA ANTOINETTE. (1793 Sad reveieea. Character of Madanao Elizabeth. highest splendor which earth allows. They had met in regal palaces, surrounded by all the pomp and grandeur of courts. Now, after months of the most cruel imprisonment, after passing through scenes of the most protracted woe, hav- 'ing been deprived of all their possessions, of all their ancestral honors, having surrendered one after another of those most dear to them to the guillotine, they were collected in a dark and foul dungeon, cold and wet, hungry and ex- hausted, to be conveyed in a few hours, in the cart of the condemned, to the scaffold. The character of Elizabeth was such, her weaned- ness from the world, her mild -and heavenly spir- it, as to have secured almost the idolatrous ven- eration of those who knew her. The compan- ions of her misfortunes now clustered around her, as the one to whom they must look for sup- port and strength in this awful hour. The princess, more calm and peaceful even than when surrounded by all the splendors of royalty, looked forward joyfully to the guillotine as the conch of sweet and lasting repose Faith ena- bled her to leave the children, now the only tie which bound her to earth, in the hands of God, and, conscious that she had dono with all thing? earthly, her thoughts were directed to thoso 1793.] THE ROYA.L PRINCESSES. 311 Madame Elizabeth at the guillotine. Execution of her campaniot* mansions of rest which, she doubted not, were in reserve for her. She bowed her head with a smile tc the executioner as he cut off her long tresses in preparation for the knife. The- locks fell at her feet, and even the executioners divkl- ed them among them as memorials of her love- liness and virtue. Her hands were bound behind her, and she was placed in the cart with twenty-two com- panions of noble birth, and she was doomed to wait at the foot of the scaffold till all those heads had fallen, before her turn could come. The youth, the beauty, the innocence, the spot- less life of the princess seemed to disarm the populace of their rage, and they gazed upon hex in silence and almost with admiration. Her name had ever been connected with every thing that was pure and kind. And even a feeling of remorse seemed to pervade the concourse sur- rounding the scaffold in view of the sacrifice of so blameless a victim. One by one, as the condemned ascended the steps of the guillotine to submit to the dreadful execution, they approached Elizabeth and en- circled her in an affectionate embrace. At last every head had fallen beneath the ax but that of Elizabeth. The mutilated bodies were be- 312 MARIA .ANTOINETTE. [1793 Death of Madame Elizabeth Her faith and piety fore her. The gory heads of those she loved were in a pile by her side. It was a sight to shock the stoutest nerves. But the princess, sustained by that Christian faith which had supported her through her almost unparalleled woes, apparently without a tremor ascended the steps, looked calmly and benignantly around upon the vast multitude, as if in her heart she was imploring God's blessing upon them, and surrendered herself to the executioner. Proba- bly not a purer spirit nor one more attuned for heaven existed in France than the one which then ascended from the scaffold, we trust, to the bosom of God. Maria Antoinette died with the pride and the firmness of the invincible queen. Elizabeth yielded herself to the spirit of submissive piety, and fell asleep upon the bo- som of her Savior. Our thoughts would more willingly follow her to those mansions of rest, where faith instructs us that she winged her flight, than turn again to the prison where the orphan children lingered in solitude and woe. Young Louis was left in one of the apart- ments of the Temple, under the care of the bru- tal Simon, whose commission it was to get quit of him. To send a child of seven years of age to the guillotine because his father was a king, 1793.] THE ROYAL PRINCESSES. 313 Situation of the dauphin. The brute Simon. was a step which the Revolutionary Tribunal then was hardly willing to take, out of regard to the opinions of the world. It would be hard- ly consistent with the character of the great na- tion iopoison the child ; and yet, while he lived, there was a rallying point around which the sympathies of royalty could congregate. Louis must die! Simon must not kill him ; he must not poison him ; he must get quit of him. The public safety demands it. Patriotism demands it. In the accomplishment of this undertaking, the young prince was shut up alone, entirely alone, like a caged beast, in one of the upper rooms of a tower of the Temple. There he was left, day and night, week after week, and month after month, with no companion, with no em- ployment, with no food for thought, with no op- portunity for exercise or to breathe the fresh air. A flagon of water, seldom replenished, was placed at his bedside. The door was occasion- ally half opened, and some coarse food thrown in to the poor child. He never washed himself. For more than a year, his clothes, his shirt, and his shoes had never been changed. For six months his bed was not made, and the unhap- py child, consigned to this living burial, remain- ed silent and immovable upon the impure pai- 314 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1795 Inhuman treatment of the dauphin. Fl becomes IHMIM let, breathing his own infection By long in activity his limbs became rigid. His mind, by the dead inaction which succeeded terror, lost its energy, and became, not only brutalized, but depraved The noble child of \v-arm affections, polished manners, and active intellect, was thus degraded far below the ordinary condition of the brute. Thus eighteen months rolled away, and the poor boy became insane through mental ex- haustion and debility. But even then he re- tained a lively sense of gratitude for every word v act of kindness. At one time, the inhuman wrretoh who was endeavoring. by slow torture to xmduct this child to the grave, seized him by he hair, and threatened to dash out his brains tgainst the wall. A surgeon, M. Naulin, who chanced to be near by, interfered in behalf of the unhappy victim, and rescued him from the rage of the tyrant. Two pears that evening were given to the half-famished child for his supper. He hid them under his pillow, and went supperless to sleep. The next day he pre- sented the two pears to his benefactor, very po- titely expressing his regret that he had no other means of manifesting his gratitude. Torrents of blood were daily flowing from 1795.] THE ROYAL PRINCESSES. 315 The reaction. Change in the dauphin's treatment the guillotine. Illustrious wealth, or rank, 01 irirtue, condemned the possessor to the scaf- fold. Terror held its reign in every bosom. No one was safe. The public became weary of these scenes of horror. A reaction commenced. M*ny of the firmest Republicans, overawed by the tyranny of the mob, began secretly to long for the repose which kingly power had given the nation. Sympathy was excited for the woes of the imprisoned prince. It is difficult to record, without pleasure, that one of the first acts of this returning sense of humanity consisted in leading the barbarous Simon to the guillotine History does not inform us whether he shud- dered in view of his crimes under the ax. But his crimes were almost too great for humanity to forgive. Louis was placed under the care of more merciful keepers. His wasted frame and delirious mind, generous and affectionate even in its delirium, moved their sympathy and their tears. They washed and dressed their Jttle prisoner ; spake to him in tones of kindness ; aoothed and comforted him. Louis gazod upon them with a vacant air, hardly knowing, after more than two years of hatred, execration, and abuse, what to make of expressions of gentle- ness and mercy. But it was too late. Simon S16 MARIA ANTOINEITK. [179ft Death of the dauphiE. Sympathy awakened by H had faithfully executed his task. The oonsti tution of the young prince was hopelessly under- mined. He was seized with a fever. The Con rention, ashamed of the past, sent the celebrated physician Dessault to visit him. The patient, inured to suffering, with blighted hopes and a crushed heart, lingered in silence and patience for a few days upon his bed, and died on the 9th of June, 1795, in the tenth year of his age. The change which had commenced in the public mind, preparing the way for Napoleon to quell these revolutionary horrors, was so great, that a very general feeling of sympathy was awakened by the death of the young prince, and a feeling of remorse pervaded the conscience of the nation. History contains few stories more sorrowful than the death of this child. To the limited vision of mortals, it is indeed inexplica- ble why he should have been left by that God, who rules in infinite wisdom and love, to so dreadful a fate. For the solution of this and all other inexplicable mysteries of the divine gov- ernment, we must look forward to our immor- tality. But we must return to Maria Theresa. Wa left her at midnight, delirious with grief and , upon the pallet of her cell, her aum 1795.) THE ROYAL PR WCKSSES. 317 Situation of the princegi royal. Her deep nffering, having just been torn from her embrace. Even the ravages of captivity had not destroyed the exceeding beauty of the princess, now sixteen fears of age. The slow hours of that night of anguish lingered away, and the morning, cheer- less and companionless, dawned through the 'grated window of her prison upon her woe. Thus days and nights went and came. She knew not what had been the fate of her mother. She knew not what doom awaited her aunt. She could have no intercourse with her brother, who she only knew was suffering every con- ceivable outrage in another part of the prison. Her food was brought to her by those who loved to show their brutal power over the daughter of a long line of kings. Weeks and months thus rolled on without any alleviation without the slightest gleam of joy or hope penetrating the midnight gloom of her cell. It is impossible for the imagination to paint the anguish en- dured by this beautiful, intellectual, affection- ate, and highly-accomplished princess during these weary months of solitude and captivity. Every indulgence was withheld from her, and oonsoious existence became the most weighty *oe. Thus a year and a half lingered slowly away, while the reign of terror was holding it* 318 MAKIA ANTOINETTE. 11790 Sympathy for the princess -royal. She is released high carnival in the streets of blood-deluged Paris, and every friend of royalty, of whatever sex or age, all over the empire, was hunted dowa without mercy. When the reactipn awakened by these hor- rors commenced in the public mind, the rigor of her captivity was somewhat abated. The death of her brother roused in her behalf, as the only remaining child of the wrecked and ruined family, such a feeling of sympathy, that the As- sembly consented to regard her as a prisoner of war, and to exchange her with the Austrian government for four French officers whom they held as prisoners. Maria Theresa was led, pale pensive, heart-broken, hopeless, from her cell, and placed in the hands of the relatives of her mother. But her griefs had been so deep, her bereavements so utter and heart-rending, that this change seemed to her only a mitigation of misery, and not an accession of joy. She was informed of the death of her mother and her aunt, and, weeping over her desolation, she emerged from her prison cell and entered the carriage to return to me palaces of Austria, where her unhappy mother had passed the hours of her childhood. As she rode along through the green fieids and looked out upon 1795.] THE ROYAL PRINCESSES. Arrival of the princess royal In Vienna. Her settled melanchotp the blue sky, through which the summer's sui was shedding its beams as she felt the pure air, from which she had so long been excluded, fanning her cheeks, and realized that she waa safe from insults and once more free, anguish gave place to a calm and settled melancholy She arrived in Vienna. Love and admiration encircled her. Every heart vied in endeavors to lavish soothing words and delicate attentions upon this stricken child of grief. She buried her face in the bosoms of those thus soliciting her love, her eyes were flooded with tears, and she sobbed with almost a bursting heart. After her arrival in Vienna, one full year passed away be- fore a smile could ever be won to visit her cheek Woes such as she had endured pass not away like the mists of the morning. The hideous dream haunted her by day and by night. The headless trunks of her father, her mother, and her aunt were ever before her eyes. Her belovec 1 brother, suffering and dying upon a beggar's bed, was ever present in her dreams while reposing under the imperial canopy of the Austrian kings. The past had been so long and so awful thai it seemed an ever-living reality. The sudden change she could hardly credit but as the de lirium of a dream. .320 M.AJUA ANTOINETTE. [1795 Lore felt for Maria. She recoreri her cheerfoloeii Time, however, will diminish the poignancy of every sorrow save those of remorse. Maria was now again in a regal palace, surrounded with every luxury which earth could confer She was young and beautiful. She was be loved, dOid almost adored. Every monarch, every prince, every embassador from a foreign court, delighted to pay her especial honor. No heart throbbed near her but with the desire to render her some compensation for the wrongs and the woes which had fallen upon her youth- ful and guileless heart. Wherever she appeared; she was greeted with love and homage. Thoso who had never seen her would willingly peril their lives in any way to serve her. Thus was she raised to consideration, and enshrined in the affections of every soul retaining one spark of noble feeling. The past receded farther and farther from her view, the present arose more and more vividly before the eye. Joy gradually returned to that bosom from which it had so long been a stranger. The flowers bloomed beautifully before her eyes, the birds sung me- lodiously in her ears. The fair face of creation, with mountain, vale, and river, beguiled hei thoughts, and introduced images of peace and beauty to dispel the hideous phantoms of dun 1795.] THE ROYAL PRINCESSES. 321 Maria's marriage. Her present residence geons and misery. The morning drive around the beautiful metropolis ; the evening serenade ; the moonlight sail ; and, above all, the voice of love, reanimated her heart, and roused her afieo tions from the tomb in which they so long had slumbered. The smile of youth, though still pensive and melancholy, began to illumine her saddened features. Hope of future joy rose to cheer her. The Due d'Angouleme, son of Charles X., sought her as his bride, and she was led in tranquil happiness to the altar, feeling as few can feel the luxury of being tenderly beloved. Upon the fall of Napoleou she returned to France with the i>ourbon tamily, and again moved, with smiles of sadness, among the bril- liant throng crowding the palaces of her ances- tors. The Revolution of 1830, which drove the Bourbons again from the throne of France, drove Maria Theresa, now Duchesse d'Angouleme, again into exile. She resided for a time with her husband in the Castle of Holyrood, in Scot- land, under the name of the Count and Count- ds of Main ; but the climate being too severe for her constitution, she left that region foi Vienna. There she was received with every possible demonstration of respect and affection She now resides in the imperial oastle of Prague 1121 322 MARIA ANTOINETTE. [1795 Adranced age of Maria. Still retains traces of her early (orrowft a venerated widow, having passed through three- score years and ten of a more varied life than is often experienced by mortals. Even to the present hour, her furrowed cheeks retain the traces, in their pensive expression, of the sorrow which darkened her early years. THE END UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY A 000 879 550 2