YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY

GIFT OF
FREDERICK SHELDON PARKER
YALE 1873

rIdyal memoirs

OP THE

FRENCH REVOLUTION.

LONDON:
PB.INTED BY THOMAS DAVISON, WHITEmiARS.

Pvd»Lutf*e*J- <k)> J"*>An. Mur-^ny

ROYAL MEMOIRS

FRENCH REVOLUTION:
CONTAINING,
I. A NARRATIVE OF THE JOURNEY OF LOUIS XVI. AND
HIS FAMILY TO VARENNES,
BY MADAME ROYALE, DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME.
II. A NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY TO BRUXELLES AND
COBLENTZ IN 1791,
BY MONSIEUR, NOW LOUIS XVIII.
III. PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF WHAT PASSED IN THE TEM
PLE, FROM THE IMPRISONMENT OF THE ROYAL
FAMILY TO THE DEATH OF THE DAUPHIN,
BY MADAME ROYALE, DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME.

¦  Quaeque ipse miserrima vidi
Et quorum pars magna fui."

WITH
HISTORICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL ILLUSTRATIONS
BY THE TRANSLATOR.

LONDON :
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET.
1823.

PREFACE.

ERRATA.
Page 32, note, line 19, for is therefore wholly irresponsible, read is there
fore not wholly irresponsible.
33, line 8, for M. de Charles Damas, read M. Charles de Damas.
"he Plate of the Tuilleries and Parts adjacent, to face the title.

in Paris with a renewed interest ; and a
correspondent feeling in this country
has required a new edition of this little
work. Another Memoir by the same hand
relative to the Journey to Varennes,
which was, many years ago, incorpo
rated into Mr. Weber's Mernoks, ap-

PREFACE.

The translation of the Duchess of
Angouleme's " Memoirs of what passed
in the Temple" was published in 1817-
The original has been lately republished
in Paris with a renewed interest ; and a
correspondent feeling in this country
has required a new edition of this little
work. Another Memoir by the same hand
relative to the Journey to Varennes,
which was, many years ago* incorpo
rated into Mr. Weber's Memoes, ap-

6

PREFACE.

pears worthy of being reproduced in a
more distinct form. And the lately pub
lished Narrative of Louis XVIII. of his
escape to Bruxelles is so nearly con
nected with the former tracts, and seems
so much of the same character, that it
has been thought that the public would
not be dissatisfied at finding them col
lected in one volume, and illustrated
and explained by a series of historical
and biographical notes.
Though these notes may, at the pre
sent moment, appear unnecessarily co
pious, they will, it is presumed, be here
after valuable, when many points which
are now capable of explanation may be
forgotten.

PREFACE. 7
The translator begs to observe, that
he has endeavoured, on all occasions,
to render not merely the meaning, but
the style and expressions of the originals.
It would have been much easier to have
translated them into a more flowing and
purer diction; but he was desirous of
preserving, as far as the idiom of the
two languages would allow, the sim
plicity, the freedom, the repetitions,
and even the errors of the originals,
and to afford the English reader the
nearest approximation to the phrase and
manner of the respective writers.

NARRATIVE

JOURNEY TO VARENNES
OF
LOUIS XVI. AND HIS FAMILY,
IN JUNE, 1791.

BY
MADAME ROYALE, DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME.

NOTICE.

This Narrative must have been written by the Princess
shortly after the event. It was given by her to Mr. Weber,
her mother's foster-brother, who, after escaping the mas
sacre, both of the 1 Oth of August and the 2d of September,
reached England in the latter end of 1792, and he in
corporated it in his Memoirs.
No single event, perhaps, ever had such important con
sequences as the arrest of the King at Varennes: other
and perhaps as great consequences might probably have
followed his escape, but they, at least, would not have been
the events which followed his arrest — the 20th of June,
the 1 Oth of August, the 2d September — the execution of
the King, of the Queen, and of Madame Elizabeth — the
anarchy, the republic, the consulate, the empire, and the
double restoration — could never have occurred : what else
might, would be a vain and idle conjecture; but it is_highly
interesting to contemplate the progress of this affair, on
which the destinies of the whole world hung, and to observe
by what an extraordinary, by what an almost miraculous
combination of petty accidents the design was defeated —
and defeated only at the moment and at the place where the
danger might have been considered, according to all calcu
lation and reasoning, as past.
The Narrative of Madame is very characteristic ; it is
marked by the simplicity and naivete of the age and sex of
the young and inexperienced traveller; and excites our

12
feelings even without reference to the abstract importance
of the events related.
But besides any individual interest which may belong
to this work, it is curious on another account. The journey
to Varennes affords an extraordinary instance of the dif
ficulty of ascertaining historical truth, and the strongest
encouragement to historical scepticism. There have been
published at least nine or ten narratives by eye-witnesses of,
and partakers in these transactions, viz. the Duchess herself
— the two Messrs. de Bouille — the Duke de Choiseul, and
his servant James Brissac — Messrs. de Damas and Deslons,
two of the officers who commanded detachments on the
road — Messrs. de Moustier and Valori, the two gardes-
du-corps who accompanied the King. To which may be
added a detailed narrative drawn up by M. de Fontanges,
Archbishop of Toulouse, who, though not himself a party
to the transaction, is supposed to have written from the
information of the Queen; and finally the notes which Ma
dame Campan collected from her Majesty. All these nar
ratives contradict each other, some on trivial and some on
more essential points, but,^in every case, in a wonderful and
inexplicable manner.
The translator has noticed some of these variances in the
following notes ; but the Duchess's narrative does not in
volve the most important of the contradictions alluded to.
They are now the subject of a somewhat polemical dis
cussion between the Messrs. de Bouille and the Duke of
Choiseul, and create a considerable interest in Paris:  those
who would go deeper into this vexata questio will find the
materials in considerable detail in the series of Revo
lutionary Memoirs now in the course of publication.

NARRATIVE,

During the whole of the 20th of June,
1791 (1), my father and mother seemed very
(1) On the 6th Oct. 1789, the King and his family
were brought by a triumphant mob from Versailles
to the Tuilleries, where they were, in fact, prisoners
from the first moment; but the restraint upon them
became gradually more scandalous and alarming ; and
jn the course of 1790, plans of escape were pressed
upon the King, which, however, produced no result.
In February, 1791, the mob made an irruption into
the palace, and insulted, disarmed, and maltreated
the King's attendants and several gentlemen who had
come thither to pay their respects to the monarch,
and the palace was, in truth, placed in a state of siege.
Soon after this, the King, who had been ill, was
anxious to go to St. Cloud, a country house about
four miles from Paris, for quiet and change of air :

14 JOURNEY TO VARENNES.
busy and much agitated, but I did not know
the reason. After dinner, they sent my
brother and me into another room, and shut
themselves up alone with my aunt (Madame
Elizabeth). I have since learned, that it was
then that they communicated to my aunt
their intention to escape. At five o'clock,
Easter was also approaching, and the pious Louis
wished to be able to perform the religious duties of
that season in tranquillity. On the evening of the
18th of April, having gotten into his carriage to pro
ceed to St. Cloud, he was arrested by" the mob, and
neither the popularity nor even the military power
of General La Fayette could operate his release ; he
was obliged to submit to this monstrous insult and
cruelty. This event determined the unhappy mon
arch to pursue the plan which had been already in
agitation for endeavouring to escape from the hu
miliating and alarming situation in which he and his
helpless family were placed. He resolved to make
his escape to Montmedi, the only asylum that he
could depend upon, short of quitting France, which
he was so scrupulously determined not to do, that
he would not even consent to shorten the danger of
his journey by crossing the frontier, though to enter
France again next day.

JOURNEY TO VARENNES. 15
my mother took my brother and me, with
Madame de Maille (2), her lady of honour,
and Madame de Soucy (3), sub-governess, to
Tivoli, M. Boutin's house (4) at the end of
the Chaussee d'Antin.
While walking there, my mother took me
aside, and told me not to be alarmed, whatever
might happen ; that we never should be long
(2) This lady, by a strange combination of ac
cidents, and after a woman of the name of Maillet
had been guillotined instead of her, escaped the
scaffold by the overthrow of Robespierre.
(3) Daughter of Madame de Mackau, the Prin
cess's governess. Madame de Soucy escaped the
reign of terror, and was selected to accompany the
Princess on her liberation in 1795.
(4) M. Boutin was one of that class of men called,
under the old regime, financiers, who indulged them
selves in the most extravagant luxury of all sorts.
The gardens of Tivoli, now so well known as a place
of public amusement, were, before the Revolution,
the residence of this gentleman, who there combined
all the beauties of a town and country residence.
M. Beaujon, another financier, had erected a para
dise of the same kind in the gardens, in the Avenue
de Neuilly, which still bear his name, and which are
so remarkable for their Montagues Russes.

16 JOURNEY TO VARENNES.
separated, and would soon meet together again.
My mind was confused, and I did not under
stand what she meant — she kissed me, and
then told me, that if those ladies should ask
me why I was so much agitated, I should tell
them that she had scolded me, but that we
had made it up again. At seven o'clock we
came home, and I retired to my own apart
ment very melancholy; for I was amazed,
and could not comprehend what my mother
had said to me.
I was alone : my mother had arranged
that Madame de Mackau(5) should go to the
Convent of the Visitation, where she often
went ; and she had sent into the country a
young person (6) who was my usual attendant.
I was hardly in bed, when my mother came ;
she had desired me to send every body away,
under pretence of being indisposed, and to
(5) The Princess's governess.
(b") This probably was Ernestine Laaibriquet, an
orphan whom the Queen's charity had adopted, xmd
whom she brought up with her daughter. {See Hue's
Journal, p. 189).

JOURNEY TO VARENNES. 17
keep but one woman with me. My mother
came and found us alone : she told this wo
man and me that we must set off instantly,
and told us how to proceed. She told Ma
dame Brunier (that was the name of the
woman who was with me), that she certainly
wished her to accompany us ; but that if she
had any reluctance to leave her husband (7),
she might stay behind. This woman replied
immediately, and without hesitation, " that
" my mother did quite right to escape ; that
" she had borne her misery too long, and that
" for her own part, she was ready to leave her
" husband, and follow my mother wherever
" she should go." My mother was very mucli
affected by this expression of attachment :
she then went down to her own room to
receive Monsieur and Madame, who had
come as usual to sup with my father. Mon
sieur was acquainted (8) with the intended
(7) M. Brunier was chief physician to the Royal
Children. (8) Monsieur (Louis XVIII.) had planned an
escape much earlier than the King, but was induced
c

18 JOURNEY TO VARENNES.
journey; when he got home, he went to bed
as usual, but he got up again immediately,
and set off with M. d' Avaray, a young gentle
man, who carried him through all the dif
ficulties of his journey, and who is still with
him. As for Madame (9), she knew nothing of
the journey; it was only when she was in
bed, that Madame Gourbillon, who was her
reader (10), came and told her that she was
to postpone it, by representations of the danger to
which it would leave the rest of the Royal Family
exposed. See the following Narrative for all the
details of this journey.
(9) Mary Josephine Louise of Savoy. It would
seem that her easy and indolent character rendered
her family unwilling to intrust her in any way in this
secret, till the very moment of execution. Monsieur,
as it will be seen by his own confession, chose an
other female confidant. Mary of Savoy died at Hart-
well, 13 November, 1810.
(10) It may be as well tp remark, that all the Prin
cesses of France had an attendant called lectrices
readers. Madame Campan came into the royal house
hold as reader to the daughters of Louis XV. Ma
dame de Stael was the reader of the Duchess du
Maine.

JOURNEY TO VARENNES. 19
desired by the Queen and Monsieur to assist
her in escaping out of France.
Monsieur and Madame met at aposte(l)
on the road ; but they took care not to show
that they knew one another, and they arrived
safely at Brussels.
My brother was wakened by my mother,
and Madame de Tourzel (2) brought him
down to my mother's apartment, where I
(1) Le Bourget; the first poste on the road to
Flanders. This incident appears in the Narrative
of Louis XVIII.
(2) Madame de Tourzel was the governess of the
Children of France, and a most amiable and respect
able woman; but a generous anxiety on her part
to accompany the Royal Family had a considerable
share in defeating the enterprise. It had been settled
by those who knew the King's reserve, indecision,
and inexperience of travelling, that some one capable
of acting and commanding along the road should
accompany him, and the Count (Annibal) d'Agoult
was fixed upon, as un homme de tete, who could give
directions, and who would overcome trifling dif
ficulties. M. d'Agoult would not have been stopped
at Varennes ! — but Madame de Tourzel claimed, as the
right of her office, to accompany the Children ; and
c 2

20 JOURNEY TO VARENNES.
also came : there we found one of the body
guard, called Monsieur de Maiden (3), who
was to assist our departure. My mother
came in and out several times to see us.
They dressed my brother as a little girl : he
looked beautiful, but was so sleepy, that he
could not stand, and did not know what
we were all about. I asked him what he
thought we were going to do ; he answered,
" I suppose to act a play, since we have all
got these odd dresses."
At half-past ten, when we were all ready,
to this etiquette were sacrificed the important reasons
that weighed for M. d'Agoult.
(3) Three of the gentlemen of the late body-guard
had been selected by M. d'Agoult for this interest
ing duty : M. M. de Valori, de Moustier, and de
Maiden. Of M. de Valori, who has published an
account of the journey, some notice will be found
hereafter. The two latter gentlemen are said to be
still alive, and in the service of Russia. It seems very
surprising that they should receive from a foreign
power the reward of their fidelity to the brother of
Louis XVIII. M. de Moustier also published, in
1816, a narrative of his share in this affair.

JOURNEY TO VARENNES. 21
my mother (4) herself conducted us to the
carriage in the middle of the court (5); which
was exposing herself to great risk. Madame
de Tourzel, my brother, and I got into the
carriage; M. de Fersen (6) was the coachman.
(4) It seems strange that Madame should be mis
taken in so remarkable a fact, and one on which she
reasons, yet, all the other evidence goes to show that
the Queen did not conduct the Children to the car
riage. We should not have a moment's hesitation
in preferring the testimony of Madame to all the
rest, but that it seems contradicted by that of the
Queen herself— who on her trial distinctly stated, " that
her children, under the care qf Madame de Tourzel,
left the chateau an hour before her, and waited for her
on the Little Carousel." The Archbishop of Tou
louse states that Madame Elizabeth accompanied
the Children in the first instance. This is certainly
a mistake. (5) Here again is another variance in the evidence.
All the other persons state that the carriage was
waiting in the Great Carousel, and it certainly seems
rather imprudent to have brought it into the very
court of the Tuilleries.
(6) A young Swedish nobleman in the French
service, much in the Queen's society and confidence,
which latter he justified by his prudence and firm
ness. The Duc de Levis, in his " Souvenirs," ex
presses a generous envy that a foreigner was em-

22 JOURNEY TO VARENNES.
To deceive any one that might follow us, we
drove about several streets; at last we re-
ployed on this interesting occasion ; and a foreigner,
too, " who had more judgment than wit ; who was
" cautious with men, reserved towards women ; seri-
" ous, but not sad : whose air and figure were those
" of a hero of romance ; but not of a French romance,
" for he was not sufficiently light and brilhant." With
submission to M. de Levis, it seems that M. de Fer-
sen's character was exactly suited to this occasion,
in which levity and brilliancy would have been mis
placed."^ M. de Fersen's fate is most extraordinary:
having escaped the horrors of the French Revolution,
he was murdered in Stockholm, in 1810, at the
funeral of the Prince Royal, Charles Augustus, with
circumstances of ferocity and cruelty on the part of
the mob, and of apathy or cowardice on the part of
the magistrates, quite worthy of the capital of France.
The pretence of this murder was, that Fersen (who
as grand marshal of the kingdom was leading the
funeral) had been accessary to the death of the
Prince, whose death was probably natural. He was
dragged from a guard-house, where he had taken
refuge at the beginning of the tumult, and before
the eyes of the troops and magistrates, who did not
make the slightest effort to save him, beaten to death
with umbrellas; and this happened on the 20th of
June, the very anniversary of his rescue of the King
of France. The body was afterwards most indecently
maltreated, a la mode de Paris.

JOURNEY TO VARENNES. 23
turned to the Little Carousel (7), which is close
to the Tuilleries. My brother was fast asleep
in the bottom of the carriage, under the
petticoats of Madame de Tourzel. We saw
M. de la Fayette go by (8), who had been
at my father's coucher. There we remained
waiting a full hour, ignorant of what was
going on : never did time appear so tedious !
(7) The majority of the accounts agree with Ma
dame in placing the carriage on the Little Carousel,
at the corner of the Rue de l'Echelle ; the others,
on the Great Carousel, at the corner of the Rue de
St. Nicaise. See the plan, which, on account of the
great changes made in this part of the town, it has
been thought advisable to prefix to this volume.
(8) La Fayette's carriage drove through the court
as the Queen was crossing it ; it passed so near her,
says one account, that by an impulse, for which she
could not account, she made an effort to touch it
with a switch which she carried in her hand. — Its
very lights, says another account, so alarmed her, that
she fled to a considerable distance to avoid them.
These statements cannot be reconciled, and even
that of Madame is not easily to be explained ; for M.
de la Fayette came and went out by the arcades and
the Cour Royale ^ and therefore, as the local then
stood, not within sight or hearing of persons standing
at the corner of the Rue de l'Echelle.

24 JOURNEY TO VARENNES.
Madame de Tourzel was to travel under
the name of the Baroness de Korff (9) : my
brother and I were to be her two daughters,
under the names of Amelia and Aglae ; my
mother was to be Madame Rocher(l), our go
verness ; my aunt a female companion, called
Rosalie : and my father was to be our valet-
de-chambre, under the name of Durand.
At last, after waiting a long hour (2), I ob
served a woman loitering about the carriage.
I was afraid that we should be discovered ;
but I was made easy by seeing our coachman
(9) This was not a fictitious name. There was
really a Russian lady of quality of this name about to
leave Paris, and Count Fersen obtained a duplicate
of her passport.
(1) It is curious that the assumed name of the
Queen was, in fact, the real name of a person who
was afterwards one of her greatest persecutors ; and
that taken by the King was that of one of his Con
ventional judges.
(2) This delay was always calculated upon. The
Children went off about half-past ten — their parents
did not intend to follow till half-past eleven. But
an unexpected delay occurred, as it is said, after
wards.

JOURNEY TO VARENNES. 25
open the carriage-door, and that the woman
was my aunt ; she had escaped alone with
one of her own attendants (3). In stepping
into the carriage she trod on my brother, who
was lying in the bottom of it, and he had
the courage not to cry out.
My aunt told us that all was quiet, and
that my father and mother would be with us
presently. My father, indeed, arrived very
soon after, and then my mother (4), with one
(3) The other accounts state, that the person who
attended Madame Elizabeth was not one of her own
household, but M. de Maiden. Madame is, however,
likely to be right, as M. de Choiseul (who had his
information on this part of the expedition from the
relation of the Royal Family) states Madame Eliza
beth to have been attended by M. de St. Pardoux. It
is singular, however, that this gentleman should have
been unnecessarily, as it would seem, admitted to a
secret otherwise so strictly kept. M. de St. Pardoux
is now one of the King's honorary equerries.
(4) In this point occurs one of the greatest dif
ficulties of the whole narrative. The delay of the
departure was a main cause of the failure ; and the
majority of the statements concur in attributing to
this period of the transaction a delay of an hour. The
archbishop, whose account seems derived from the

26 JOURNEY TO VARENNES.
of the body-guards who was to accompany

us.

Queen, and is on the whole the best (though probably
erroneous in this point), states, as to the Queen's escape,
" that all went well as far as the great gate of the Cour
" Royal, but at that spot, she meets the carriage of
" M. de la Fayette, with his usual accompaniments
" of guards and torches. After escaping this danger,
" she told the garde-du-corps, on whom she was
" leaning, to conduct her to the Little Carousel,
" corner of the Rue de l'Echelle, that is about two
" hundred paces from where she stood ; her guide
" knew, it seems, less of the topography of Paris than
" she herself did, and it was too dangerous to ask
" their way in that neighbourhood ; they turned to
" the right instead of the left, as they ought to have
" done, andpassing the southern arcade of the Louvre,
" crossed the Pont Royal, and found themselves be-
" wildered along the quays and streets at the other
" side of the water : they were obliged at last to ask
" their way. A centinel on the bridge directed them,
" and they were obliged to return the way they came,
" and pass along the front of the Tuilleries to the
" Rue de l'Echelle."
Now it seems incredible that the Queen, and still
more that the garde-du-corps, should not have known
the Little Carousel, which was close under the win
dows of the Palace, and not above two hundred
yards from the Great Carousel, on which they were
standing. It is still less credible that they should

JOURNEY TO VARENNES. 27
We then proceeded, and reached the barrier
without any event : there a travelling-car-
have turned to the right by mistake, for they had
just come from that side. But it seems nearly im
possible, that under any delusion, they should pass
through the wicket, and under the arcade, and across
the quay, and over the bridge, and finally lose their
way on the other side of the river ; but what adds
to the wonder of all this is, that M. De Moustier, the
garde-du-corps, who is stated by his colleague, M. de
Valori, to have accompanied the Queen, denies that
he so accompanied her, and says, in his relation, " that
" the same garde-du-corps who attended Madame
" Elizabeth (viz. M. de Maiden), also returned twice
'• oxer to fetch the King, and at last, the Queen ;"
and that the Queen and M. de Maiden lost their way.
In part of this M. de Moustier must be mistaken ;
because M. de Valori states, that he himself accom
panied the King, and although he may be in error
as to which of the two others conducted the Queen,
he knew at least what he himself did ; and allowing
an equal confidence to M. de Moustier, we are obliged
to suppose that M. de Maiden (who has not pub
lished any account of the affair) attended the Queen :
but in any case, what shall we say of the supposed
ignorance of the streets and the crossing the river,
to which the archbishop and M. de Moustier at
tribute the loss of near an hour; a loss which

28 JOURNEY TO VARENNES.
riage had been prepared for us ; but M. de
Fersen did not know where it was, so that
we were obliged to wait a long while, and my
father (5) even got out to look for it, which
alarmed us very much : at last M. de Fersen
found the other carriage, and we got into it.
M. de Fersen took leave of my father, and
made his escape.
The three gentlemen of the body-guard
Were Messieurs de Maiden, De Moustier,
turned out to be the loss of the whole enterprise?
It seems most probable that all this story of the
Queen's losing her way is an exaggeration of the
few steps she took to avoid La Fayette, and that she,
in fact, as Madame implies, and as M. de Choiseul
asserts, was but a few minutes after the King.
(5) This additional cause of delay is not mentioned
in any other account ; but it is stated in some, that
M. de Fersen was so ignorant of the streets of Paris,
as not to know the direct way from the Tuilleries to
the Porte St. Martin ; and that he lost half an hour
by taking the circuitous route of the Boulevard. This
seems a mistake — M. de Fersen appears to have taken
the way by the Boulevard on calculation, and not
through ignorance. His whole conduct was marked
by firmness and sagacity.

JOURNEY TO VARENNES. 29
and Valori (6) : the last acted as the courier,
the other two as servants, one on horseback,
and the other on the front of the , carriage.
They had taken false names : the first was
called St. John ; the second, Melchior ; the
last, Francis (7). The two waiting women,
who had set off long before us, met us at
Bondy(8) in a little carriage, and we all
(6) Francis-Florent, Comte de Valori, was born at
Toul in 1763. He had distinguished himself in the
defence of the royal apartments at Versailles, on the
6th Oct. 1789 : and though the gardes-du-corps were
dissolved after that event, he still continued his duty to
the King, and had the honour to be selected for this
interesting service. After the return from Varennes,
the King had great difficulty in saving his life, and
he commanded him to emigrate. M. de Valori then
entered the service of Prussia; in 1814, he returned
with Louis XVIII., and was appointed an officer in the
revived companies of the gardes-du-corps. During
the 100 days, still faithful to his duty, he accompanied
the King to Ghent; and at the second restoration,
received the doubtful honour of the cross of the
Legion. He died in April, 1822.
(7) It seems, from M. de Valori's account, that
these were the Christian names of these gentlemen.
(8) The first poste out of Paris, distant about eight
miles. The two women were Madame Neuville, the

30 JOURNEY TO VARENNES.
proceeded on our journey, day beginning to
dawn. During the morning nothing particular
occurred, except that about ten leagues from
Paris, we observed a man on horseback, who
seemed to follow the carriage : at Etoges, we
thought we were known. At four o'clock
we passed through Chalons-sur-Marne (9), a
large town ; there we were certainly known.
Several persons thanked God for the pleasure
of having seen the King, and expressed their
anxiety for his escape (1).
Dauphin's first attendant, and Madame Brunier,
already mentioned.
(9) The Queen had herself undertaken to arrange
the preparations for the journey as far as Chalons —
by much the most perilous part of the way — and we
see that she succeeded perfectly. The troops ad
vanced by M. de BouiM as far as the post next
Chalons created, wherever they appeared, uneasiness
and commotion.
(1) We believe that Madame is mistaken in think
ing that the King was generally recognised at Chalons,
and that she confounds what really occurred here
with an incident which she erroneously attributes to
Clermont, namely, that a person approached the car-

JOURNEY TO VARENNES. 31
At the next post (2) to Chalons, we were to
find some cavalry to escort the carriage to
riage, and told the King he was betrayed. This
event all the other accounts concur in placing at
Chalons. What misled Madame was, perhaps, that
at Clermont M. Charles de Damas took an oppor
tunity to approach the King's carriage, and ex
changed a few words with his Majesty; and this
conversation she may have confounded with what
happened at the preceding stage.
(2) Pont de Sommevelle; the troops here were
under the orders of the Duke de Choiseul, and a
M. de Goguelat, but the complicated delays which
made the King some hours too late, and the rising
impatience of the populace, induced these gentlemen
to leave their post. This was always severely re
proached to the Duke, under whose orders Goguelat
was, and is at this moment the subject of a warm
discussion between him and the sons and grandson
of M. de Bouille. On an impartial review of the
whole matter, we think the Duke retreated too
hastily ; and that he ought, at least, to have left some
one behind to tell whither he had gone. In his de
fence, lately published, he shows very clearly, not
only that his absence did not occasion any delay to
the King, but that his presence might have excited
suspicion, and that in fact the King got through every
where rather in spite qf than by the precautions
taken. AU this is true, so far as relates to the" par-

32 JOURNEY TO VARENNES.
Montmedi ; but when we arrived, we found
nobody. We waited in the hopes of finding
these troops until eight o'clock (3).
ticular post of Pont de Sommevelle; but if M. de
Choiseul had waited a little longer, he would have
seen the King pass, and his Majesty would have
been informed of the spot where M. de Goguelat
had placed the relay of Varennes — the ignorance of
which was the immediate cause of failure. And even
if any untoward event had occurred, by marching a
short distance in the rear of the royal carriage, as
he was ordered to do, M. de Choiseul would, by the
time he had arrived at Varennes, have collected a
force that would have enabled him to overcome all
opposition. Madame Campan tells us, that the
Queen attributed the failure to M. de Goguelat ; and
no doubt he was the person who, having placed the
relay at Varennes, should have taken especial care
to let the travellers know where to find it : but as
Messrs. de Bouille very well observe, he was a junior
officer to the Duke de Choiseul, and the latter is
therefore wholly irresponsible for his error. It is
impossible to read the account of this journey with
out wondering at the extraordinary combination of
circumstances, which, after a beginning apparently
so prosperous, defeated the King's attempt at the
very moment when its success might be considered
as complete.
(3) This delay at Pont de Sommevelle is not stated.

JOURNEY TO VARENNES. 33
At the close of the day we passed through
Clermont : there, indeed, there were troops ;
but the village was in a state of commotion,
and they would not suffer the cavalry to
march. An officer recognized my father, and
coming close to the carnage, whispered to
him that he was betrayed. Here we also saw
M. 'de Charles^Damas (4), but he could do
nothing for us.
We, however, continued our journey : night
was come on, and, notwithstanding all our
agitation and anxiety, every one in the car
riage fell asleep. We were awakened by a
dreadful jolt, and at the same moment they
came to tell us, that they did not know what
in any other of the accounts as being considerable.
The King was undoubtedly much disturbed at not
meeting the troops here ; and his anxiety on this
point led him, as we are told, to expose his person
subsequently. (4) The state of excitement of the whole popula
tion of the country was so great, that the presence
of troops every where created instead of preventing
tumult ; and M. de Damas, after a long and painful
struggle, was obliged to escape alone to Varennes. D

34 JOURNEY TO VARENNES.
had become of the courier who preceded (5)
the carriage : judge of our terror, we thought
we were discovered and taken. We were now
at the entrance of the village of Varennes,
which contains scarce a hundred houses (6) ;
there is in this place no regular post (7)9 and
(5) The inexperience of the gardes-du-corps in
the office of couriers and postillions was — notwith
standing their exemplary zeal and fidelity — one of the
many unfortunate circumstances, the combination of
which defeated the enterprise : had they had the
habits and experience of couriers, they might have
prevented the difficulty which occurred at Varennes ;
but, on the contrary, their ignorance of the duties
of their apparent station excited suspicion in more
places than one, and particularly at St. Menehoud,
where the royal fugitives narrowly escaped arrest.
(6) It now contains about fifteen hundred inhabit
ants. (7) The travellers might now have thought them
selves out of all danger — they were within reach of
M. de Bouille's army — they had no postmaster to
fear— no difficulty in getting horses to apprehend, for
their own horses were ready for them — it was late at
night — the whole village was asleep— strong detach
ments of troops were placed in advance and others
were following them; interruption seemed impossible;
yet here, in the only spot of the whole road whe>~

JOURNEY TO VARENNES. 35
travellers generally have horses sent from
the next post in advance. They had taken
no danger was to be expected, they were arrested,
and the destinies of the world changed. At this
post M. de Bouille had placed his own younger son
with two other officers : — these young men acted with
strange heedlessness, if not with absolute negligence.
The misplacing the relay of horses, and the station
ing the troops on the wrong side of the town, may
be attributed to M. de Goguelat; but the personal
conduct of the three young officers was, as appears
to us, extremely reprehensible. They made in their;
defence the same excuse that M. de Choiseul had
done, and to which M. de Damas's peril gives some
validity, namely, the jealousy and bad spirit of the
villages, to appease which they thought it right to
remain concealed within their quarters. They say,.
also, that the horses for the relay were stationed at
the spot of which the officers at Pont de Sommevelle
were to have apprised the travellers. This is true, and
makes the proceedings at Sommevelle more lamenta
ble; but what excuse can be made for not leaving some
one at the entrance of Varennes to watch the King's
arrival and guide him to the relay ? AH the accounts
represent the whole town a.s buried in sleep, so much
so that the courier, and even the King and Queen,
were obliged to go from house to house knocking
up the inhabitants to inquire for their horses: in the
D 2

36 JOURNEY TO VARENNES.
this precaution for. us, but the horses had
been unfortunately placed near the castle, at
meanwhile Drouet arrives by a cross road from St.
Menehoud, alarms the town, assembles the magi
strates, takes measures for obstructing the passage
of the bridge, and, finally, arrests the carriage. In all
these proceedings he was assisted by one Billdud,
afterwards so remarkable in the Convention for his
ferocity, and who called himself de Varennes from this
his native town. One would have thought it im
possible, that all this could have been done without
the knowledge of troops and postillions stationed
close by for a particular purpose; but so it was: and
it was not till the whole town was alarmed and illu
minated that the Chevalier de Bouille and M. de
Raigecourt awoke, either from sleep or apathy, and,
instead of making the slightest attempt with sixty
hussars to relieve the King, rode away to tell the
Marquis de Bouille that all was lost; and M. de
Rodwick, a young sub-lieutenant, who had the im-'
mediate command of the dragoons, also rode off.: Ill
news, they say, flies fast — it did not, however, in this
case ; for, though the distance was only eight or nine
leagues, these gentlemen were four hours and a half
in reaching the Marquis's head-quarters at Stenay.
It would have been natural that on so important an'
occasion he should have been on the alert ; it was,
however, an hour, i. e. five in the morning before he

JOURNEY TO VARENNES. 37
the other side of the river, and at the other
end of the toWn, and no one with us knew
where to find them.
At last our courier came back, bringing
with him a man (8) whom he believed to be in
the secret, but who, I suppose, was a spy of
marched with a regiment of cavalry, and he arrived
in front of Varennes about nine ; an hour and a half
after the King's departure for Paris.
(8) This was a Major de Prefontaine, whose house
was on the road side, at the entrance of the town, and
whom the travellers knocked up to inquire for the
horses which were to have stood opposite his house.
The poor man seems to have been quite bewildered,
and tp have conducted himself with equivocation,
timidity, and lukewarmness ; but there is no reason to
imagine that he had any thing to do with La Fayette.
Indeed, except apprizing the travellers that there was
a, ford by which they might avoid the bridge, it is
hard to see what Prefontaine could have done ; and
at the time he saw the King the bridge was not yet
barricaded. On the subject of the transaction with
M. de Prefontaine, the accounts of the archbishop
and of the two gardes-du-corps differ in several
curious and important particulars. Numerous acci
dents, as we have shown, combined to produce the
fatal results ; but the direct and immediate cause was,

38 JOURNEY TO VARENNES.
Fayette's; he came to the carriage-door in
a nightcap and bedgown. He almost threw
himself into the carriage, and told us that
he had a great secret, but that he would not
tell it. Madame de Tourzel asked him, if
he knew Madame de Korff; he answered,
No ! And from that moment I never again
saw or hearid of this person.
After a great deal of trouble, the postillions
were persuaded that the horses were waiting
at. the castle, arid they proceeded that way,
but slowly. When we got into the village,
we heard alarming shouts of stop ! stop ! The
postillions were seized, and in a moment the
carriage was surrounded by a great crowd,
the not knowing where to find the relay at Varennes ;
for it was during the time lost in seeking the horses
that Drouet arrived and alarmed the town. This
mischief was caused, first, by the Duke de Choiseul's
and M. de Goguelat's quitting the post of Pont de
Sommevelle without leaving any one to apprize the
King ; and by M. M. de Bouille, junr. Raigecourt,
and Rodwick, not having any one on the look out at
Varennes.

JOURNEY TO VARENNES. 39
some' with arms, and some with lights. They
asked who we were ; we answered, Madame
de Korff and her family. They thrust their
lights into the carriage, close to my father's (9)
(9) His Majesty's anxiety had made him expose his
countenance at St. Menehoud, where he made some
indiscreet inquiries as to the road ; he was by these
means recognised by Drouet, who had seen him at
the Federation, and had happened that very morning
to receive from Paris some new assignats on which
the king's head was very well engraved. A short
sketch of this man's extraordinary history will not
displease the reader. He was the son of the post
master at St. Menehoud, and was born in 1757.
The celebrity he obtained by the arrest of the Royal
Family ensured his election to the Convention next
year, where he voted for the death of the King ; and,
even in that assembly, distinguished himself for the
vulgarity of his manners, and the atrocity of his dis
position. It was he who gravely proposed to put to
death every native of England who might happen to
be in France: this perhaps gave Buonaparte the
mitigated idea of putting them all into prison. In
1793, he was sent as commissioner, with pro-consular
powers, to the army of the North, where he happened
himself to be made prisoner by the Austrians, as he
was endeavouring to escape from Maubeuge ; and,

40 JOURNEY TO VARENNES.
face, and insisted upon our alighting: we
answered, that we would not ; that we were
by a still more curious retribution, he was afterwards
exchanged for the Duchess of Angouleme, whom
he had himself arrested. After his return, he di
stinguished himself in the desperate party called
Robespierre 's tail, and was imprisoned for his share
in Babceuf 's conspiracy. As he owed his fortune to
having prevented the King's escape, he owed his life
to succeeding in his own. He escaped the guillotine
by escaping from prison, and after some desperate
attempts with his faction, he was finally glad to escape
to Switzerland, hidden under some straw in a milk
man's cart : hence, he projected an escape to India,
but got no farther than Teneriffe, where he was
present at Lord Nelson's attack, and taken prisoner.
In 1797, he was acquitted, by a mock trial, for his
share in Babceuf's conspiracy, and he returned to
France, where the Directory appointed him sub-
prefect of St. Menehoud. Buonaparte continued him
in this office, and, with a discernment which belonged
to him, distinguished Drouet with marks of imperial
favour. On the restoration in 1814, the Bourbons,
who, we are told, forgot nothing and forgave nothing,
inflicted no other vengeance on this execrable wretch,
than removing him from the office for which his
ignorance as well as his villany disqualified him so
completely, that even Buonaparte, on his return, did

JOURNEY TO VARENNES. 41
common travellers, and had a right to get
on : they repeated their orders to alight on
pain of being put to death, and at that mo
ment, all their guns were levelled at the
carriage. We then alighted, and in crossing
the street, six mounted dragoons passed us,
but unfortunately they had no officer with
them ; if there had been, six resolute men (1)
not venture to restore him ; but such lenity was thrown
away upon Drouet : he procured himself to be elected
into Buonaparte's chamber for the department of the
Meuse, a pretty pregnant proof of the excellent com
position of that chamber. Waterloo dissolved the
chamber, and the King's ordonnance, which banished
(not the regicides, but) such regicides as, ungrateful
for former bounty, had again taken part with Buona
parte, relieved France from the presence of the most
odious, and at the same time, the most contemptible
of the revolutionists. — It is not known what has be
come of him.
(1) The Chevalier de Bouille, M. de Raigecourt,
and M. de Rodwick, had sixty dragoons ; the Duke
de Choiseul should have had twice as many. Another
detachment, under M. Deslons, arrived from the op
posite quarter before the King was removed ; but the
surprise, the difficulties, the tremendous importance

42 JUURNEY TO VARENNES.
would have intimidated them all, and might
have saved the King.
of the crisis, distracted and paralyzed the minds of
every one ; and it must, in justice to all the officers
engaged in the affair at this critical moment, be con
fessed, that the irresolution and timidity of the King
himself almost, if not entirely, justified their conduct.
Even the high spirit of the Queen herself seems to
have failed before the strenua inertia of the King.
No one present except Louis had any right to com
mand ; and Louis's only orders were, to do nothing.
In the mean while arrived an aide-du-camp of La
Fayette with an order for the King's arrest. This
officer M. de Choiseul's party should have inter
cepted ; his coming accelerated the removal of the
King, who was an hour and a half on the road to
Paris before M. de Bouille and his advanced guard
arrived at Varennes.
It was then too late to attempt a pursuit, and the
captivity of the unfortunate monarch was irrevocably
accomplished. We shall conclude by stating, that such a series
of fatal accidents, all tending to one point, cannot,
we believe, be paralleled in the history of unfortunate
princes.

NARRATIVE OF
A JOURNEY TO
BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ.

BY
MONSIEUR, NOW LOUIS XVIII.

NOTICE.

The authenticity of the following Memoir is undoubted.
It was written soon after the event — certainly before the
death of the writer's nephew, Louis XVII. It has been lately
published from the King's own manuscript, and we have
been informed that his Majesty even corrected the press.
It is therefore a literary curiosity ; but it was expected
that it would be something better. The King in early life
had a kind of literary character : one or two little theatrical
pieces were attributed to his pen; and he was considered to
be even a puriste in the niceties of the French language.
The present work seems to have destroyed that reputation;
and the French critics go so far as to say, that the language
is in many places vulgarly ungrammatical. On this point
the translator does not presume to be a judge; but he must
admit, that the work does not place his Most. Christian
Majesty very high in the list of royal authors, as the style
is bad, the observations often puerile, and the sentiments far
from noble ; but it must also be allowed, that it has a certain
degree of interest ; and as no inconsiderable share of French
politics has, since the Restoration, hinged on the personal
character of the monarch, it is not unimportant to trace in
this Narrative the course of his feelings and the turn of his
mind.

TO
ANTOINE LOUIS FRANCOIS D'AVARAY*
HIS DELIVERER,
LOUIS STANISLAS XAVIER OF FRANCE,
FULL OF GRATITUDE  Health.

I am aware, my dear friend, that you
are employed in writing the circum-
* A. L. F. De Besiade, Count d'Avaray, eldest
son of the Marquis d'Avaray who was before the
Revolution, and is still, what we call Groom of the
Stole. The Count d'Avaray was born in 1759, and
served at the siege of Gibraltar ; after which he be
came Colonel of the Regiment de Boulonnais. In
the latter part of 1788 he visited England, and
resided for some months in Kensington, to acquire
our language — a circumstance which was useful to
him in the most important incident of his life — that
which obtained him the honour of this dedication.

48
stances which preceded and accom
panied the moment of my deliverance ;
no one is better qualified than you to
give celebrity to your work, and yet I
wish also to attempt it. It is possible
that your modesty may prevent your
doing yourself the justice you deserve,
Monsieur, on assuming the title of Louis XVIIL,
made M. d'Avaray Captain of his Guards, and gave
him the arms of France, to be borne as an honour
able augmentation to his own, with the date of the
King's escape as a motto. In 1799 he received, what
at that time must have appeared, the empty honour
of being created a Duke. M. d'Avaray followed the
fortunes of the exiled monarch into Italy, Germany,
Russia, Poland, and finally into England. He had
the entire possession of his private confidence, and
the greatest share in his political concerns. Being
seriously attacked by consumption (a disease to
which it appears from the following pages he was
early subject) he was advised to try a voyage to
Madeira : an expedient which failed in this case, as
it generally does, and M. d'Avaray died there in
1811. His father has been created a Duke and peer
of France : his next brother is now Count d'Avaray.

49
and I feel it to be a duty, as well as a
pleasure, to guard against that result.
I should be ungrateful were I to suffer
that any one in the world — even yourself
— should dare to rob my deliverer of the
least particle of the glory which is due to
him. It is for this purpose, rather than
to recall to my recollection events which
I never can forget, that I write this nar
rative. Receive it, I beg of you, as a
pledge of my tenderest friendship — as a
monument of my gratitude. May it serve
to acquit me of some part of the debt
towards you, which I have felt so much
pleasure in contracting, and which I
shall feel still more pleasure in for ever
acknowledging.

NARRATIVE,
&;c. fyc.

Teucro duce et auspice Teucro !

Reports spread in November, 1790, of the
intended escape of the King, had induced me
to think of mine. I determined on opening my
design to Peronnet (1), at that time employed
in my wardrobe, because he was the person
who would be most naturally employed in
making the necessary preparations ; and that
I was, even then, as convinced of his fidelity,
as I am now after his faithful service. These
reports ceased, and we naturally put off our
project to a more favourable opportunity. I
(1) M. Peronnet is still about the. King's person.
e 2

52 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
mentioned it to the Queen, who assured me
that neither she nor the King had given any
' grounds for such a rumour ; but she added
that sooner or later there was every appear-
ance of their being driven to this extremity,
and she promised to give me timely notice;
but she, at the same time, advised me to be
always ready for the event.
The persecution (2) which was excited
against the King on the approaching Easter,
in 1791, and the resolution which it forced
upon him, convinced me that I had no choice
between apostasy and martyrdom ; the former
revolted me, and I will own that I felt no
great vocation for the latter. I talked a good
deal with Madame de Balbi (3) on this sub-
(2) The persecution here alluded to was the efforts
made to prevent the Royal Family from performing
their religious duties, unless they would accept the
assistance of what were called the constitutional
clergy, which they conscientiously declined, con
sidering these men as apostates.
(3) Mademoiselle Caumont de la Force, married, in
1770, to the Count de Balbi, a Genoese nobleman,

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 53
ject, and we agreed that there was a third
course open to me, which was, to abandon
a country where the usual exercise of our
religious duties was about to be proscribed.
¦3
settled in France. On the marriage of Monsieur
to Mary of Savoy, Madame de Balbi was appointed
her dame d'atours. Soon after this, a separation took
place between her and her husband, in consequence,
it is said, of mental derangement in the latter. Ma
dame de Balbi (as indeed the text implies) was high
in the confidence and good graces of Monsieur ; and
she accompanied him in his exile, until the recall of
the emigrants under Bonaparte, when she returned
to France ; but, very much to her credit, was so little
in favour with the imperial court, as to be exiled
to Montauban. On the restoration she returned to
Paris, where she was still residing within the last
year or two. It would seem as if the return to France
was either the cause or the consequence of some
coolness between her and her royal friend. The
mention of Madame de Balbi in this place has re
vived a good deal of scandal in Paris ; and one cannot
but smile at the simplicity with- which the Prince
confesses, that though he would not accept the mass
from the hands of a constitutional priest, he con
sulted Madame de Balbi on the spiritual concerns of
his conscience.

54t NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
The matter pressed in point of time ; it was
Good Friday— and Easter Sunday was the
fatal day. We agreed that Madame, Ma
dame de Balbi, another person, and myself,
should escape that very night in Madame de
Balbi's carriage.
. It will easily be believed, that I had not
now first thought of who the fourth person
should be ; and my first thoughts had been
directed to d'Avaray (4), of whom I was as
sure as of myself ; but happy in the midst of a
family which adored him, his escape seemed
as difficult to effect as my own. Besides
(and this was my chief motive for making other
choice) the delicacy of his health made me
fearful that he would be incapable of bearing
the fatigues of such an attempt. I then
thought of i <¦ ¦'¦ , but why name him ? If
(4) Young d'Avaray was connected with Mon
sieur's court by having obtained the reversion of his
father's office — his third brother, the present Count,
was one of Monsieur's body-guard.

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 55
this narrative meets his eyes, he will see that
his refusal (which arose from reasons which I
am bound in justice to say were well founded)
has not made me forget twenty preceding
years of friendship.
I went to the Tuilleries, to acquaint the
King and Queen with my intention ; leaving
Madame de Balbi a kind of letter of creden
tial, to be given to  . Occupied as they,
even then, were about plans for their own
escape (5) — which however they had not com
municated to me, nor indeed otherwise opened
(5) The very difficulties which impeded the King's
escape were a sufficient justification of the measure — •
he was a prisoner who was compelled to declare that
he was free. At the very height of the persecution
and duress which he suffered, the National Assembly
forced this weak prince to write the celebrated cir
cular letter of the 23d April, in which he ordered
his ambassadors to assure the several powers, that he
was at full liberty. This letter was probably proposed
to him, because it implied a personal pledge not to
attempt to escape from such perfect freedom; and
it was probably only to conceal his intentions that
Louis was induced to sign so flagrant a "falsehood.

56 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
themselves, except to ask me for some mate
rials (which were not afterwards employed),
for the Declaration which the King published
on his departure,— they feared that my escape
at this moment might impede theirs, and they
endeavoured to dissuade me from it. My
judgment was not shaken by their arguments,
but my heart sympathised with theirs, and I
yielded. In the mean while Madame de Balbi having
received a refusal from the person in ques
tion, was in a most cruel embarrassment,
when Providence (for I would venture to
defy the most obstinate infidel to attribute
it to chance) (6), conducted d'Avaray to her.
He had long entertained a desire to serve
me as he has done. He had often, though
with great modesty, intimated that wish
to Madame de Balbi, whom he frequently
(6) With all deference to his Majesty, we cannot
approve such an assertion as this, which seems to us
an indecorous reference to Providence on a small
and trivial occasion.

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 57
visited ; but he now came at an unusual
hour, and I can only attribute to Providence
his having come that day and that moment,
when his presence was absolutely necessary
to us. She did not hesitate to make him the
proposal ; and although it was no agreeable
task to be, as it were, the mere mechanical
agent of a plan which he had not arranged,
and although he had not time to take the
smallest measure of preparation either for me
or himself, he did not hesitate a moment
in accepting it: the only regret he felt was,
that I had first chosen another than he. He
hastened immediately to collect for me every
thing which the shortness of the time per
mitted him to collect ; but when he returned
to the Luxembourg (7) the intention had been
already abandoned : it was only on my arrival
(7) A palace (now appropriated to the peers of
France) built by Mary de Medicis, in 1615, on the
site of a house belonging to the family of Luxem
bourg. It became the town residence of Monsieur
when the Royal Family were forced into Paris.

58 narrative of a journey
there that I learned the refusal and the accept
ance which had taken place in my absence.
The first astonished me, and might have af
fected me if I had been less grateful for the
second. I felt, however, embarrassed for a
moment in seeing d'Avaray ; but his friend
ship for me, and the pleasure which he felt
in giving me so striking a proof of it was so
well expressed in all he said, that I soon for
got the injustice which I had done him in
restraining my first impulse.
Before I proceed further with this narra
tive, I ought to anticipate an objection which
my readers may make. How is it possible,
they may say, that knowing as I did the
numerous ties which dAvaray was about to
break for me (8), I never expressed to him any
(8) This seems overstated. M. d'Avaray does
not appear to have been married : he was a young
officer of Monsieur's household, and it does not seem
any violent exertion of generosity to have accom
panied his royal friend — the majority of the French
noblesse emigrated with much less inducement.

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 59
sense of this generosity; and that in the whole
course of my narrative, I speak of his satisfac
tion and his joy, as if they were unmixed with
any portion of regret? But before I am judged,
I would request the reader to put himself in
my situation. My captivity had become so
intolerable, that I was absorbed by one pas
sion — the desire of liberty : I thought but of
it; and I saw every object through the prism,
if I may use such an expression, which this
anxiety placed before my eyes. Those who
have suffered the torments of such a situation,
or who can understand from the statements
of others the irksomeness of captivity, will
excuse me, at least, if they do not entirely
acquit me. Such I know was d'Avaray's
feeling — the tenderness of his friendship con
vinces me of it; and if I describe his feel
ings as being different from what they really
were, it is only because I describe them not
as they were, but as he permitted me to see
them. We nevertheless did not give over our

60 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
project altogether; but, having some time
before us, we reconsidered it better, and we
soon saw that it was defective in several
points, and particularly on the intention of
escaping altogether ; and it was resolved,
upon dAvaray's advice, that we should
separate. He engaged to provide a convey
ance for him and me. He also undertook to
provide the necessary disguise for me ; but
as he alone could not suffice for all that was
to be done, he asked me whether there was
no one whom I could select to help him. I
mentioned Peronnet, and proposed, as I had
done in the November preceding, to admit
him into our confidence. That he would not
consent to ; and he only employed Peronnet
in some indifferent affairs, and some details
about my clothes, reserving his further com
munications for a future period, according to
the degree of confidence he might appear to
deserve. On the other hand, things occurred which
gave us much uneasiness. Whether our in-

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 6l
tention had got wind, or whether our gaolors
had spontaneously become more jealous, we
remarked that we were watched with more
than ordinary care ; and that M. de Ro-
meuf(9), aide-de-camp to M. de la Fayette,
came frequently to parade the courts of
the Luxembourg. We learned also that the
town of Valenciennes — through which we
reckoned on passing, and which till then had
been one of the most quiet in France — was
wholly changed ; that they stopped and exa-
(9) The same aide-de-camp whom La Fayette de
spatched to Varennes after the King, and who, in
his efforts to get the Royal Family and their attend
ants conveyed out of that town without insult, was
confounded with them by the infuriated mob, was
insulted, beaten, wounded, and dragged to prison,
where he remained for several days, till a decree of
the National Assembly released him. He followed
La Fayette into Germany, but soon returned, and
attached himself to Murat, whose aide-de-camp he
remained up to the restoration. He is still alive, a
general officer, knight of St. Louis, and of the Legion
of Honour, not only unmolested, but even advanced,
under " those Bourbons who can neither forgive
" nor forget.

62 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
mined very narrowly all travellers, and that
some had even been ill used.
Seeing, on our first inspection, that it would
be difficult to escape from Madame de Bal-
bi's(l), as we had first projected, she en
deavoured, but without success, to obtain a
country house in the neighbourhood of Paris.
Madame de Maurepas refused to lend her
Madrid (2). M. d'Etioles, who had at first a
mind to hire his house at Neuilly, retracted.
My Lady Kerry took it into her head to hire
Madame de Bouffler's villa at Auteuil (3) ; and
(1) Madame de Balbi had, in right of her place in
Madame's family, an apartment in the Luxembourg.
(2) A chateau in the Bois de Boulogne, built by
Francis I., was so called in memory of his captivity
at Madrid ; but I believe the villa here alluded to
was built by M. de Maurepas, in the neighbourhood
of the old chateau, and is what is now called Madrid-
Maurepas. (3) The villa that the readers of Grimm will re
collect as having been the occasion of an application
of some verses of Racine, which, not knowing their
author, the society of the Duchess de Polignac pro
nounced to be execrable.

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 63
the Count d'Artois' men-of-business refused
to lend Bagatelle (4) without his distinct
permission, or that, at least, of M. de Bon-
niere's (5), who at that moment happened to
have followed the Count to Ulm. All these
disappointments embarrassed us. Ih the mean
while Madame de Balbi had had the pre
caution to provide herself (for any occasion
which might arise) of a regular passport for
Spa ; and in the supposition that the moment
was at hand, she had thought of borrowing
the house of M.deFontette, which looks inthe A
garden of the Luxembourg, and through which
(4) A little villa of the Count d'Artois in the Bois
de Boulogne, near the Seine; it well deserved the
inscription which his Royal Highness placed on the
facade, " Parva sed apta." After the restoration,
the Count d'Artois gave it to the Duke de Berri.
(5) An advocate of Orleans, who became the legal
adviser and superintendant of the household of the
Count d'Artois. He returned from the temporary
emigration mentioned in the text, and was in 1796
elected one of the council of 500. He did not, it is
said, abandon his royalist principles; and he died,
much regretted, in 1801.

64 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
we might easily escape without observation.
She received, about the end of May, a sum
mons to Bruxelles on particular business. The
Queen, of whom I had asked whether she
would give Madame de Balbi any commission
for M. de Mercy (6), inquired of me in re
turn, how long she was likely to stay in the
Low Countries ? and on my answering, " ten
" or twelve days." " So much the better," she
rejoined, " but let it not be longer." She set
out on Ascension-day (2d June) : I expected
her back on Whitsun-eve ; but instead of
that, I received a letter, to say that her return
was postponed. It will be easily guessed
that d'Avaray was not idle all this while;
and as to what concerns Madame, I may
here say, once for all, that Madame Gour-
billon, her reader, undertook to do all that
was necessary; and acquitted herself of the
task with equal ability and success.
(6) The Count de Mercy, who had lately been
Austrian ambassador to Paris.

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 65
Whit-Monday (June 13), in returning from
mass, the Queen whispered me, " The King
" has given orders for going in the procession
" of the Fete-Dieu (7)'at St. Germains LAuxer-
"rois; appear to be vexed at it." These few
words made at first some impression on me,
but it soon vanished. I was until Thursday
(16th) without seeing the Queen in private;
but on that day she told me their departure
was fixed for the ensuing Sunday (19th). I
hoped that dAvaray would come to my
coucher; but an accident had happened to
his cabriolet, and he could not come. Friday
morning I wrote to him to come at six o'clock :
he did so. " Are we to grease our boots (8)?"
(7) Corpus-Christi day, which, in 1791, fell on
Thursday, the 23d.
(8) A proverbial phrase (now almost as obsolete
as the jack-boots to which it refers) to signify pre
paration for a journey. When Rabelais, on his death
bed, received the extreme unction, he said, "Ah, it
" is clear I am just going the long journey — you are
" greasing my boots!'' F

66 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
said he on entering. " Yes," said I, " and
" for Monday."
We then entered into detail, and examined
three principal points. First, the way of
getting out of the Luxembourg. Second,
the way of getting out of Paris. Third, the
road by which we could most easily escape
out of France. He was much distressed on
the first of these points, because he did not
know all the localities pf my apartments ; and
that he believed that I had no means of get
ting out but through my ante-chamber, which
was impossible (9), or the garden, which
was very difficult. This obstacle, however,
I soon removed, by showing him what I call
my private apartment, and which communi
cates directly with the great Luxembourg,
where there were no national guards. I had
not before explained this passage to him,
because I had not thought of making use of
(9) Impossible to be done without observation, as
the ante-chambers were filled with attendants, guards,
domestics, &c.

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 67
it, expecting to set out from Madame de
Balbi's, or from the country. Here I cannot
but pause to express my wonder, that during
twenty months that I had now been in Paris,
this passage, which was known to several of
my attendants, had not been even suspected
by my gaolers (1) ; and how it was that, using
it as I did, during the hottest of the per
secution, to go to my chapel, which is in
the Great Luxembourg, I had not myself be
trayed it.
This difficulty removed, another remained;
it was, in what carriage we should get to our
travelling carriage ; for we never for a mo
ment thought of bringing the latter to the
Luxembourg. A hackney coach was obviously
the safest, but they were not allowed to come
(1) The duress, the surveillance, under which all
the Royal Family were placed, deserves the strong
term that Monsieur applies to ft. On one occasion
a report was spread that Monsieur had escaped, and
he was obliged to pacify the populace by parading
himself through the iown, not without some risk to
his personal safety. F 2

68 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
into the court of the Luxembourg, and d'Ava
ray would not hear of my attempting, how
ever well disguised, to escape on foot (2).
We had then no alternative but a job coach,
or a cabriolet, and we decided for the former ;
because (3), besides that I am rather too heavy
to get easily in and out of a cabriolet, it would
have required a man to hold the horse, which
did not suit us. This point settled, we dis
cussed whether we had better leave Paris
with job or with post horses; and we decided
for post horses. First, because it is the least
suspicious way of travelling : second, because
in taking job horses we must either have placed
relays on the road, or obtained an order (4) to
(2) We shall see, by and by, that Monsieur had
a very peculiar gait, by which M. d'Avaray thought
he would be certainly detected.
(3) The expression is here somewhat clusmy, and
the reasoning not lesjs so ; as a man to hold the horse
of the cabriolet, or to drive the job coach, would be
equally necessary in either case.
(4) One of the rules of the French poste is, that no
one arriving with other than post horses can have
post horses, without a special order.

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 69
have post horses : the former would have had
a suspicious appearance, and the latter might
have been as bad ; besides, it was adding an
additional wheel to a machine already suf
ficiently complicated, and which it was our
interest to simplify as much as possible.
Finally we considered our escape out of
France. I thought we must have a passport,
but the difficulty was how to obtain it with
out suspicion. My first idea was to send for
Beauchene, the physician of my stables, who
had some connexion with M. de Montmorin (5)
and M. de la Fayette, and to tell him that
two non-juring priests of my acquaintance,
terrified at what had lately happened at the
convent of the Theatins (6), wished to escape
(5) At this time minister of foreign affairs ; he was
afterwards massacred at the Abbaye.
(6) On the quay then called des Theatins, now
the quay Voltaire. On the 2d June, during divine
service, the mob broke into the church of the Thea
tins, at the moment of the administration of the sacra
ment ; they dispersed the communicants, maltreated
the priests, overturned the altar, and defiled the
church.

70 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
from France under the name of two English
men, and that I desired he would procure
them a passport from the office of M. de
Montmorin. D'Avaray did not approve this
idea ; he represented to me that Beauchene,
who is sharp, might form some suspicions of
what it was our interest so much to conceal,
and I abandoned this project ; but d'Avaray,
who was very intimate with Lord Robert Fitz
gerald (7), told me that he would endeavour
to obtain a passport through his means. As
to our route, my first project was to go by
Douay and Orchies; but after more reflec
tion, I resolved to send Madame by this
route, as being the safest ; and I told d'Ava
ray that we should determine upon ours next
morning. (7) Next brother of the late Duke of Leinster,
afterwards created an Irish peer by the name of Lord
Lecale. He was secretary to the British embassy
at Paris, and was about this period acting as envoy in
the interval between the Duke of Dorset and Earl
Gower.

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 71
On leaving him, I went to the Tuilleries,
where the Queen showed me the draft of a
declaration which the King had prepared (8),
and which he had just given to her. We read
it together. I found in it some inaccuracies
of style — that was a little drawback ; but be
sides that, we thought the paper rather too
long. There was one essential point omitted,
namely, a protest against all the acts done by
the King during his captivity.
After supper I made some observations to
my brother on his work : he told me to take
it home with me, and to bring it back to him
next day. On Saturday morning (18th June)
I began the most ungrateful task in the world,
(8) This declaration is to be found in all the pub
lications of the day. The King's shyness and dif
ficulty of expressing himself in ordinary conversation
gave so unjust a notion of his understanding, that we
have heard persons who knew him doubt whether
he had written that admirable composition — his Will.
We are glad of this additional testimony as to even
the literary powers of Louis XVI., for the Declara
tion is very well written and very well reasoned.

72 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
namely, the correcting another person's work ;
and of uniting the phrases, which I was obliged
to insert, with the views and expressions of the
past that had been already written. The pen
really was at every moment ready to fall from
my fingers ; however, well or ill, at last I got
through it. During this time, d'Avaray had
written .to Lord Robert :Ji# had also been at
the coach-maker's, to .seer whether the car
riage was in good order-; and to deceive him,
without exciting suspicion (9), he had told
him, that being obliged to join his regiment,
he wished to conceal his departure from his
family ; and under this plausible pretext, he
had enjoined secrecy. He had also made
the necessary arrangements with Peronnet for
my dress, and he was back again with me by
six o'clock.
(9) This phrase (as well as others which may at
tract observation) is the King's dwn. It seems to
have required no great ingenuity to lull suspicion by
deceiving those one fears.

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 73
He was out of spirits : Lord Robert had
answered, that he had no longer the right of
giving passports, and that my Lord Gower (1)
would certainly not give them to any person
who were not really English ; and some other
means which d'Avaray had also employed
had been equally unsuccessful. Fortunately,
Madame de Balbi, on going away, had left
with him an old passport which she had had
from the British ambassador, under the name
of Mr. and Miss Foster. But this passport,
good only for fifteen days, was dated 23d
April, and was for man and woman, instead
of two men. I did not believe it possible to
make any use of it; but d'Avaray — of whom
I am glad to bear testimony that he was no
more disturbed by difficulties (2), than if a

(1) The present Marquis of Stafford, then Earl
Gower, and newly appointed ambassador in France.
(2) Again it must be observed, that the King
seems to rate too highly a very ordinary expedient.

74 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
young friend had begged him to take him to
the ball of the opera without the knowledge of
his parents — D'Avaray, I say, soon showed
me that I was wrong ; he scraped the writing :
and although what he scraped was in a fold,
and the paper very thin, the passport was in
a quarter of an hour for Messrs. and Miss
Forster, and dated the 13th June, instead of
the 23rd April.
This obstacle overcome, we were still not
without difficulties. We did not know whether
it was necessary or not that passports should
be vis6 by the minister for foreign affairs ;
and we had no inclination to produce one,
which, notwithstanding all the skill of d'Ava
ray, and the blots of ink which he had in
dustriously scattered on the back, both on
the scraped places, and elsewhere to be less
suspicious, might easily be detected. We re
solved, therefore, to be satisfied with it as it
.was, hoping that it would not appear sur-

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 75
prising that two Englishmen — as we had
determined to appear to be — should have
thought that the passport of the English am
bassador was quite sufficient, and that the
municipalities which might happen to exa
mine it would not perceive its defects.
Finally, we considered the road we should
take. I had given up that of Orchies to
Madame. I did not like that by Valenciennes,
for reasons which I have already stated. We
settled at last to proceed to Mons, by Sois
sons, Laon, and Maubeuge; and this for
the following reasons : first, this road being
little travelled, we hoped to find horses
more easily ; as far as Soissons it might be
thought that we were going to Rennes, and
to Laon that we were going to Givet, which
might deceive those who should pursue us.
Thirdly, and lastly, walled towns, where the
poste is situated in the interior of the town,
are marked in the post-book in a particular
way. Now, according to this mark, the poste

76 narrative of a journey
is within Avennes, and is not within Mau
beuge ; and we reckoned, that considering
the hour at which we intended to set out, we
might pass Avennes, and should arrive at
Maubeuge, before the gates were shut; that
we should then have to do only with the post
master, and that we should thus avoid the
frontier towns, of which the deficiencies of
pur 'passport made us very apprehensive.
In the evening, I took my corrections of
the King's declaration to the Tuilleries. I
asked the Queen, if she thought that a pass
port from the English ambassador was suf
ficient ; she assured me, that the King him
self had no other than one from the Russian
minister, which put me very much at my
ease. I must, no doubt, have ill explained myself
to the Queen ; for, in fact, a passport under
the name of the Baroness de Korff, though
obtained by Monsieur de Simolin, had been
really issued from the Foreign Office; but

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 77
the Queen could have no reason to deceive
me (3), and I should not have mentioned
these circumstances, if I had not promised
to tell every thing.
In the meanwhile, the paper on which the
King had employed me contained as yet only
the first part of what was intended, that is to
say, the defects and errors of the constitu
tion. There was still wanting a summary
of the personal insults which the King had
undergone since the opening of the States-
General ; he ordered me to draw up this
summary (4), and I accordingly brought it to
him next evening. It might be thought, from
what I have said here, and in a former pass
age, that I am the author of the Declaration
(3) There is a kind of insinuation here which is
obviously unjust. The Queen probably told Mon
sieur exactly what she knew or believed ; she had
asked the Russian minister for the passport, and
probably was not aware of his having sent to obtain
it from the French Foreign Office.
(4) Monsieur had, as we have said, with his own
family and the public, the reputation of authorship.

78 narrative of a journey
of the 20th June; but I am bound in truth
to declare that I only corrected it; that many
of my corrections were not adopted; that the
whole conclusion was added after I had re
turned it; and that in its present shape I did
not see it till it reached us at Brussels.
With the exception of this work, and one
or two circumstances (which I shall mention
presently), Sunday (June 19) was an idle day
for me, but it was not so for d'Avaray. He
was busy all day, showed himself but for a
moment at the Luxembourg, as we had agreed
the evening before, and we did not see each
other in private. This public visit, which we
had considered necessary, was very incon
venient to him, as it consumed a portion of the
short time which he had reserved for himself.
On my part too, it was painful to my feelings
to leave him confounded in the crowd of
courtiers, and to address him only by one of
those insignificant phrases (5) which princes
(5) No prince, perhaps, has said these insignificant

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 79
are obliged to use on such occasions; but
prudence required that I should be a prince
on that occasion ; but I promised myself, in
my own mind, that it was the last time I
should be a prince with him.
He had already made a half confidence to
Sayer, his English servant, of the same na
ture as that to the coach-maker. He told
him that he was to set off next day for his
regiment, but forbad him to speak about it
in the house, or to mention it to any of the
family. He added, that wishing for company
in his journey, he had the good fortune to
meet with a friend, who was a good sort of
fellow; but that as the post-masters paid more
attention in general to strangers than to na
tives, we had resolved to travel as English
men, under the names of Michael and David
Foster: and, finally, he made him acquainted
things better than the author : it is amusing to see
him undervaluing a talent which he certainly pos
sesses in a very eminent degree.

80 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
with Peronnet, under the name of Perron,
valet-de-chambre of his intended companion.
The names of Michael and David were not
chosen at random : my linen being marked
with an M., and his with D. A., he thought
it necessary, in case we should be closely
examined, that our assumed names should
correspond with these marks.
I now return to circumstances to which I
have alluded before. The morning of that
same day (June. 19) I met Beauchene at my
wife's levee. He told me that a man had gone
to Audouin (6), one of those journalists who
distribute daily poison in Paris at one penny
a sheet, and produced to him a plan of escape
for the King, and the whole of the family;
(6) To the very good description given in the
text of this Audouin we have only to add, that
after having, by the most infamous provocatives, in
flamed the fury and cruelty of the Jacobins, he reaped
the bitter harvest of his own villany, and was guil
lotined, 1794, as one of the faction of Hebert and
Danton.

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 81
adding, that he was certain that this plan had
been adopted at the Tuilleries ; that the man
had begged Audouin to insert it in his news
paper, and that it would certainly appear next
day. This information made me uneasy; they
tell me even that I grew pale on hearing it.
I don't believe that circumstance ; but of this
I am quite sure, that I very soon recovered
myself, and I asked Beauchene laughing to
favour us with the details of this pretended
plan. He stated some which I so well knew
to be false, that I saw that even if something
was known, it was but a very small part of
our design, and I became perfectly easy.
The second circumstance was a note in enig
matical terms, which I received in the morn
ing from d'Avaray, complaining ' of a bolt
which I had ordered to be placed.' I thought
I was quite sure that there was no such thing
on the door of my private apartment, open
ing into the Great Luxembourg. I lost no
time in hastening to satisfy myself upon this

82 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
point, and seeing that I was right, I resolved
to wait for an opportunity of speaking to
d'Avaray in private, and hearing from him
the explanation of his riddle.
On Monday morning (June 20) a report (7)
was spread that the Queen had been arrested,
in the course of the night, as she was attempt
ing to escape with my sister in a hackney-
coach. This did not alarm me much; but on
reflection this rumour, combined with what I
had heard from Beauchene, seemed to prove
two things : first, that our gaolers were
uneasy about us ; secondly, that at present it
was but a vague apprehension. I concluded,
therefore, that we should still have time
to escape ; but that the moment was well
chosen, and that if we did not avail ourselves
of it, it never would occur again.
(7) All these reports, unfounded in themselves, yet
so nearly approaching the truth, are curious enough,
and prove that all mankind agreed that it was natural
that the King should endeavour to escape.

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 83
I soon had another alarm ; Madame de
Sourdis, coming to attend my wife to church,
was refused admittance at the gate of the
Little Luxembourg; but I soon learned that
it was a mistake of the porter : that made
my mind easy, and I waited patiently the ex
planation of d'Avaray's note. I considered,
however, that it would probably be expedient
to blacken my eyebrows, for the purpose of
disguising my countenance, and I accordingly
took an opportunity at dinner of slipping into
my pocket a cork for this purpose (8).
D'Avaray did not come until near seven
o'clock, and I confess time appeared to me
very tedious; for, independently of the un
easiness I felt about him whenever he was
absent, and of the final arrangements which
we had yet to make, he was the only being
to whom I could speak on the subject which
now occupied all my thoughts. He explained
(8) This notable circumstance seems to be the
only one in which the Prince's own ingenuity was at
all exerted towards forwarding his escape. r: 0

84 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
the story of the bolt which he had mentioned,
by saying, that Peronnet, to whom he had
given the key of the apartment for the pur
pose of putting my travelling dress in it, had
not been able to open the door, and believed
that it was bolted. We immediately went to
it, and, finding the dress, were satisfied that
Peronnet had got in: we then tried the. key
in the lock, and found that it went easily.
We then proceeded to make an inventory of
the bundle, which we found very complete.
I tried on the boots, which fitted well ; and
we placed every thing in regular order in the
closet, where I resolved to dress.
D'Avaray promised to be with me at eleven
o'clock precisely; and, after embracing each
other very cordially, we separated, not to
meet again till the very moment of action.
I pass over an infinity of details relative
to the preparations which d'Avaray made,
because, in fact, they were all his own ; for
them I willingly refer to his Narrative (9),
(9) This Narrative has not been yet made public.

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 85
which, I am sure, will be exact in these par
ticulars. My object is only to relate what I
myself did or saw, and, above all, to take care
that on essential points d'Avaray does not
depreciate his own merit.
On leaving me, d'Avaray was accosted by
a person whom I believe, by the description
he gave me of him, to have been Desportes,
the usher of my closet, who said that he had
something very urgent and important to com
municate to him. He took him into the
corridor which leads from the Little to the
Great Luxembourg, and there this person,
after a long preamble of attachment to the
King and to me, told him that a friend of his, a
man deserving the most entire credit, had con
fided to him that an attempt had been made to
borrow from him a sum of money to facilitate
the escape of the whole Royal Family, which
was to take place that very night; that he
thought it his duty to communicate this in
formation, and that he begged him to lose no
time in conveying it to me.

86 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
D'Avaray did not lose his presence of
mind : he replied, that this was one of the
thousand and one reports of escape and counter
revolution with which the public had been
distracted for a year past : but the other in
sisted ; and d'Avaray could only get rid of him
by promising to speak to me on the subject
in the evening at my coucher, or at latest
next morning.
He, however, thought the thing important
enough to apprize me of it. He came back
to my private apartment, and knocked at the
door of the closet; but in vain: I had already
set out for the Tuilleries. He then debated
with himself whether he had not better go
thither also, and by seeing either the first
femme-de-chambre of the Queen, or even
myself, apprize us of what he had just heard;
but he thought, on reflection, that doing so
might excite observation; and the more so,
because, having long refrained from going
into public, for the purpose of avoiding ques
tions, his being seen at the Tuilleries might

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 87
excite some surprise. Besides, matters were
now gone so far that there was no receding.
All these considerations induced him to keep
the alarming information to himself— not even
to acquaint me with it till we should be in
safety, and to commit the success of our
enterprise to the hands of Providence.
I was the more impatient to reach the
Tuilleries, because I knew that my sister
Elizabeth was this very afternoon to be ap
prized of the secret, which it was extremely
irksome to me to have kept so long concealed
from her. I found her tranquil, resigned to
the will of Heaven; satisfied, but without any
violent joy; as calm, in short, as if she had
been in possession of the secret a year before.
After embracing each other very tenderly,
she said, "Dear brother, you are blessed with
" a sense of religion : allow me to give you this
" image (1), which cannot but bring you happi-
" ness." I accepted it, as may be well believed,
(1) It is evident from the, context that this was a
crucifix.

88 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
with equal pleasure and gratitude. We con
versed for some time on the subject of our
approaching enterprise ; and, without being
blinded by my affection for her, I must say,
that it was impossible to reason on the subject
with more coolness and judgment than she
did. I could not help admiring her (2).
I went down to the Queen's apartment, for
whom I waited some time, because she was
in private with the three gentlemen of the
body guard, who have since given to her, as
well as to the King, the last melancholy proof
of their devotion. At last she came : I ran
to embrace her : " Take care," she cried,
" not to affect me (m'attendrir). It must not
" be seen that I have wept (3)."
We supped, and remained all five (4) to-

(2) No one who reads the history of this admirable
Princess's fife can " help admiring her."
(3) What a beautiful combination of strength of
mind and tenderness of heart these words exhibit !
(4) The King and Queen, Monsieur, Madame,
and Madame Elizabeth.

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 89
gether till near eleven o'clock. At the mo
ment when I was about to take leave, the King,
who till then had not informed me of the
place of his destination, took me aside; and,
after telling me that he was going to Mont-
medi, positively directed me to proceed by
the Austrian Low Countries to Longwy (5).
Again we embraced each other tenderly, and
at last separated, thoroughly persuaded — at
least I was — that before four days we should
all meet again in a place of safety. It was
not quite eleven o'clock when I left the
Tuilleries, and I was glad of it, because I
hoped that the Duke de Levis (6), who ge-
(5) The King had been advised himself to take this
latter road ; but no persuasion could induce him to
leave the territory of his kingdom, and this route
was therefore assigned to his brother.
(6) The same whom we have seen in England,
and the author of several works of interest and merit.
He, as well as Monsieur, to whom he was attached,
was at the beginning a favourer of the Revolution —
a moderate reformer — and he generally voted with
the cote gauche. This was perhaps the reason that

90 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
nerally saw me home every evening, might not
arrive in time, which I wished for two reasons :
first, because I was unwilling to expose myself
to questions, which, however unconnected
they were, might still have embarrassed me :
secondly, because I was in the habit of chat
ting generally a good while before I went to
bed ; and I was afraid, by going to bed im
mediately, as it was necessary I should, some
suspicion might be excited in the mind of
the duke. My hope was disappointed : he
even made a merit of his punctuality, with
which I should gladly have dispensed. I re
strained my impatience however, and chatted
quietly with him as we drove along. The
moment I reached my own apartment, how
ever, I began to undress, at which he seemed
surprised. I told him that I had slept ill the
night before, and had resolved to make up
Monsieur was unwilling to entrust him with this
secret. We have seen (page 21) that the Duke felt,
very justly and naturally, a little jealousy on this
subject.

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 91
for it to-night : this reason satisfied him ; I
undressed myself, and went to bed.
I must here observe, that my first valet-
de-chambre always slept in my room, which,
unless I put him in my confidence, appeared
an insurmountable obstacle to my escape ;
but I had satisfied myself, by a rehearsal which
I had made two days before, that before he
could undress himself and come back to my
room, I had more time than was necessary
to get up, light a candle, and get into my
closet. Accordingly the moment he was gone I
got up, and closing carefully the curtains of
my bed, and taking with me the few things
which I wanted, I got into my closet and
shut the door ; and from that moment, whe
ther from a presentiment or from my con
fidence in d'Avaray, I thought myself out
of France. I put in the pockets of my robe
de chambre three hundred louis which I took
with me, and passed into the private apart-

92 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
ment, where d'Avaray was waiting for me,
after having had a very serious alarm ; for
when he had attempted to enter it, the key
would not turn in the lock: — a thousand
fancies, one worse than the other, had passed
throughhis mind. At last, however, he thought
of turning the key the other way, which hap
pened to be the right one.
D'Avaray dressed me, and when I was so,
I remembered that I had forgotten my cane
and a second snuff-box which I wished to
bring away. I was going back to look for
them, but d'Avaray would not permit such
rashness, and I did not persist in my inten
tion. The clothes fitted me very well; but
the wig was a little too light : however, as it
fitted tolerably, and as I was resolved, when
ever I could, to keep a large round hat with
a great tri-coloured cockade over my eyes,
the ill-fitting of the wig did not give us much
trouble. In crossing the private apartments,
d'Avaray told me that there was a carriage

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 08
like our own waiting in the great court of
the Luxembourg: this made him uneasy;
but I quieted him by acquainting him that
it was my wife's; yet when we were on the
stairs, he desired me to wait, and went to
see if it were still there. Not seeing it, he
returned, saying, " Come along with me" —
" / am ready," I replied, and we proceeded
to our carriage, which was a vis-a-vis. By
accident I had placed myself with my back
to the horses. " What," said d'Avaray,
" you are ceremonious ?" " Faith," said I,
*' here I am." — He did not persist in his
compliment, and, directing the coachman to
drive to the Pont Neuf, we left the Luxem
bourg. My joy at having escaped from my prison,
— a joy which d'Avaray sincerely shared, —
turned all our thoughts towards gaiety. And,
accordingly, our first impulse, after crossing
the threshold, was to sing a verse of the
parody of the Opera of Penelope —

94 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
" Ca va bien,
Ca prend bien,
Ils ne se doutent de rien (7)."
We met several people in the streets, and
a patrole of the national guard. Nobody,
however, thought of even looking to see
whether there was any one in the carriage.
Near the Pont Neuf d'Avaray told the coach
man to drive to the Quatre Nations (8). We
found our carriage waiting for us between
the Mint and the Quatre Nations, in a kind
of little street which is formed by the angles
of these buildings. The coachman, who had
already set down d'Avaray in the same place
that morning, thought that we were going
there, and was about to stop; but d'Avaray
told him to drive to the front of the college,
and it was there we alighted. The coachman
(7) It must be confessed that the author's mode of
expressing his satisfaction was not very noble, nor
very suitable to his own circumstances and to those
of the rest of his family.
(8) Also called the College de Mazarin, and now-
a-days 1'Institut de France.

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 95
asked us whether we were satisfied with him?
" So much so," replied d'Avaray, "that I shall
" probably employ you again the day after
" to-morrow." We then proceeded on foot to the travel
ling carriage, d'Avaray warning me to take
care not to waddle (9) as I walked. At last
we reached it : I got in first, then Sayer, then
d'Avaray ; Peronnet got on horseback. We
assumed an English accent, desired to be
driven to the Bourget (1), and we set out.
On reaching the PontNeuf,two post-carriages
passed us, which had the immediate effect of
making d'Avaray uneasy; but it was much
worse when, after having changed our road
to avoid them, they passed us again at the
(9) Dandiner. The gait both of the King and of
his brother was so very peculiar, as to render it, in the
opinion of their attendants, necessary to convey them
away in carriages, although it is evident that this
latter mode increased the difficulty of keeping the
secret. (1) The first stage out of Paris on the Flanders
road.

96 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
Porte St. Martin ; and it was clear that they
were taking the same road as ourselves.
D'Avaray had no doubt that it was some
one of my family, and he swore in an under
tone against " princes who, from not commu-
" nicating with one another, spoil the best ar-
" rangements in the world ;" for he thought,
and with reason, that if we continued to keep
company, we should, besides interfering with
one another's horses, give rise to suspicion, and
be infallibly stopped. I did not partake his
alarm, knowing very well that it was my wife,
and that once past Le Bourget we had no
thing more to fear ; but I could not explain
this to him before Sayer, who was not in our
secret. Luckily d'Avaray only spoke of the
want of horses, and I represented to him that
we must be very unfortunate indeed if those
carriages should be, like ourselves, going to
Soissons of all places in the world, since the
road we were travelling led also to Metz,
Nancy, and all Flanders. When we had

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 97
crossed the road to Chalons, his uneasiness
and his impatience increased to such a degree,
that I thought I might speak a little plainer;
and, assuming a prophetic tone, I asserted
positively that those carriages were going to
Douay. That quieted him a little as to our
travelling in company; but, anxious to gain
time, he offered six francs to the postillion to
pass the other two carriages : that succeeded
for a moment, but they soon passed us again,
and we arrived all together at Le Bourget.
There d'Avaray made Sayer alight, under the
pretence of going to look who were in the
other carriages ; and when we were alone, I
explained clearly to him what I had hitherto
only said in ambiguous phrases, which, at
last, tranquillized him.
Day overtook us near Nanteuil ; then Sayer
got on horseback, and Peronnet took his place
in the carriage. He produced my diamonds,
which he had brought away in his pockets,
and we hid them between the lining and the
H

98 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
back of the carriage, pasting the lining again
in its place. I took also the cork, which I
mentioned before, and which d'Avaray had
taken care to blacken, and I coloured my
eyebrows with it, without caricature, but so
as to disguise me perfectly. I moreover de
termined to appear (2) asleep at all the posts,
at least till we had got a good distance from
Paris. I affected — and, in truth, I did not
once fail — to foretell at our departure from
each poste, from the look of the postillions,
whether they would drive us well or ill.. We
had come admirably as far as Vertfeuilj.but
there I predicted that we should be driven
very ill to Soissons, and I was not mistaken.
During this stage d'Avaray spoke to me of
his intention to resign his regiment. I was
not quite of his opinion; but I submitted to
his reasons. He then told me that, he had a
mind to forward his resignation to Monsieur
(2) This simple precaution would have saved Louis
XVI. from detection at St. Menehoud.

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 99
du Portail (3) from Soissons. I laughed at him
about the place he had chosen, asking whether
be thought he was to have more leisure there
than at the other stages : nor did I approve
his addressing Monsieur du Portail, knowing
that it was the King's intention to dismiss
all his ministers at the moment of his de
parture ; but as d'Avaray added, that he in
tended to date his resignation on the 18th
June, I had nothing more to object.
This postillion justified but top well the
inference which I had drawn from his coun
tenance ; for nothing could drive worse. We
agreed that, he could be no other than the
president of the jacobin society of Soissons.
But although I seemed to make light of this,
I felt, in truth, a real anxiety : I had within the
last few miles discovered that I had forgotten
(3) Monsieur du Portail was an officer of engineers,
had served with La Fayette in America, and who
was now, through his interest, minister of the war
department,
h2

100 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
at Paris the image which my sister had given
me ; and, without being more devout than my
neighbours, this loss really disturbed me, and
gave me a great deal more anxiety than that
of my cane and snuff-box.
On our arrival at Soissons, we found that
one of the tires of the left front wheel was
broken. This vexed us extremely ; but it was
much worse a moment after, when, on ex
amining the wheel more closely, we found
that the felly was broken also. D'Avaray
showed no emotion ; but then I saw perfectly
what was passing in his mind. Not less
uneasy than he, I endeavoured also to com
mand myself. It seems that I succeeded ; for
he afterwards assured me that my serenity
had restored his. They proposed that we
should have a new felly made. We asked
how long that would take : they answered,
about two hours and a half. Being but an
indifferent wheelwright, and ignorant, con
sequently, of any other mode of remedying

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 101
the accident, I looked at this loss of time
with the greater anxiety, because it was now
half-past eight o'clock. Our flight must be
now known at Paris, and every moment of
delay lost us some of the start which the
night had given us ; but d'Avaray, who, as
I said, had recovered his coolness, thought
«f another expedient, which was, to bind the
felly with a double clip of iron, and this the
people agreed to adopt.
Whilst this work was going on, he first
wrote his letter to Monsieur du Portail, which
he inclosed in another to his brother-in-law,
Monsieur de Sourdis; he then went to hasten
the smith. Thus left alone, I thought of
looking into his portefeuille, which he had
forgotten in the carriage ; and there, with
equal wonder and joy, I found the image
which I thought I had left at Paris. But
what completed my surprise was, that d Ava-
ray has since assured me, that in opening his
portfolio, he had not been less surprised than

102 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
I was in finding the image; for he had not
the least recollection of having put it there.
The postmaster was standing near the car
riage, and confiding, as I safely might, in my
English accent, I chatted a good while with
him, without observing any thing to lead me
to fear that he even suspected who I v/as.
At last our wheel was mended, and they
assured us that it would still go twelve or
fifteen leagues : that was, however, very far
under our mark, for we were still twO-and-
thirty leagues from Mons ; but, trusting a
little to good luck, we gave ourselves no great
uneasiness on this point, and set off again.
But before we go further, I must mention a
danger which we escaped without knowing
it, and which certainly was the greatest that
we ran.
M. de Tourzel had left Paris on the Thurs
day or Friday, and, to avoid creating sus
picion, he had gone to spend two days at
the house of the Archbishop of Narbonne at

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 103
Haute-Fontaine. His servant, who had no
desire to leave France, went, in a moment of
intoxication, to inform against him at the
jacobin club at Attichy, near Haute-Fon taine,
as an aristocrate who was going abroad to
effect a counter-revolution. The club im
mediately sent a notice to those of the neigh
bouring towns, and amongst others to that
of Soissons, for the arrest of all travellers ;
and the leaders of the club, placing them
selves at the head of about sixty national
guards, proceeded to Haute-Fontaine to se
cure M. de Tourzel : but finding that he was
only a young man, with a boyish appearance,
and that he was travelling in a simple ca
briolet, they made light of the servant's in
formation, and allowed the master to depart.
It is probable that they also sent counter-
orders to the neighbouring clubs, as we should
otherwise inevitably have been stopped. I
am not mistaken, however, in affirming that
this was the greatest danger to which we

104 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
were exposed; and had I known the cir
cumstance, we should certainly have taken
another road.
The poste of Vaurains, between Soissons
and Laon, is a solitary house, where there
are no other persons than those attached to
the poste, who were all busy with their horses.
This seemed to me so good an opportunity
of alighting, and relieving the stiffness in my
legs, that I proposed doing so ; but it was
so firmly opposed by d'Avaray, that I was
obliged to yield. I then proposed breakfast
ing. We had a pie and some claret, but we had
forgotten bread ; and whilst we eat the crust
with the pie, we thought of Queen (4) Maria
Theresa, who hearing one day the poor people
pitied for being in want of bread, replied,
" But, dear me, why do they not eat pie-
" crust?" D'Avaray then had a very bright thought,
namely, to take Sayer again with us, and to
(4) The queen of Louis XIV.

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 105
send Peronnet forward with the measure of
our felly, to have a similar one made in case
the iron band should not be sufficient, and
by that means to avoid the danger of waiting
two hours, from which we had just escaped.
Sayer informed us, by the way, that every
body were persuaded we were really English,
which gave us great pleasure : and he added,
that he was every where told that we were
going to Brussels ; an idea which would have
been very unpleasant if we had been taken for
Frenchmen, but which, as we were thought
Englishmen, became a matter of indifference.
D'Avaray seeing him in a talking humour,
led him to speak on the affairs of the times (5),
uponwhichhe spoke very freely; and,amongst
other things, he said one which has much
struck me since, which was, that they began
(5) It must be recollected that this English ser
vant did not know who his master's friend was. The
observations which so much struck the author are
not very profound.

106 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
to Consider the King as mad— -fou. •¦ (I must
observe that Sayer speaks French ill, and that
the English word fool, which he must certainly
have meant, has a very different signification
from mad.) He also made an observation,
with the truth of which I was struck ; it was,
that it cannot be said that there are really
either aristocrats or democrats, because the
man who has but a sixpenqe, to use his own
expression, calls the possessor of a shilling an
aristocrat. In the mean time Peronnet had arrived at
Laon, full three-quarters of an hour before
us ; but the wheelwright was gone to the
upper town, and was not yet returned when
we arrived. We had our wheel carefully exa
mined, and having ascertained that it was in
good condition, we continued our journey,
without thinking any more of having a new
felly made.
It is impossible to be worse driven than we
were from Vaurains, but particularly from

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 107
Laon to La Capelle. I began to fear that we
should not arrive at Avesnes before the gates
were shut, and I was thinking of going by
Landrecy, where the^oste is out of the town:
this would, it is true, have lengthened our
journey four leagues ; but this was a slight
inconvenience compared to that of being
stopped altogether : the uneasiness, however,
which the slowness of the drivers occasioned
to me, was soon absorbed in one of a more
cruel description. D'Avaray, who had for
some time become serious and taciturn, from
having, in all the former part of the journey,
been lively and talkative, at last acknowledged
to me, between Marie and Vervins, that he
was spitting blood ; and I saw but too much
proof of it on his handkerchief, which I had
seized by a kind of mechanical motion as
soon as he had made that confession. Con
ceive what passed across my mind ! I could
not doubt that this accident was owing to
the mental and bodily fatigues which he had

108 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
undergone in preparing for our departure,
joined to the sleepless night which he had
passed, and to the fatigue of the journey. I
knew that when this occurred to him it usually
lasted several days, and I knew enough of me
dicine to be aware that, in such cases, entire
rest is the first and most indispensable remedy.
Heaven knows that had he not been exposed,
in case of arrest, to still greater dangers than
myself, nothing on earth should have made
me go on another step : but of that I was but
too certain ; so that every way I felt myself the
assassin of one to whom I was attached by
friendship, before I was bound to him by
gratitude, and who, at that very moment, was
giving me a proof of a faithful and courageous
attachment. Notwithstanding the efforts I
made, the impression on my mind showed
itself too plainly in my countenance ; he per
ceived it, and forgetting what he suffered,
as well as overcoming the uneasy sensation
excited by accidents of that nature, he thought

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 109
only of consoling, me, and of removing my
fears on his account; telling me that it was
of no consequence, that it was caused only
by his being a little heated, and that he felt
it was going off. I was no longer listening to
what he said ; I had turned towards Heaven,
and I was praying with a fervency which I
should certainly never have felt in praying
for myself. I dare not believe that it was
granted to my prayers; but certain it is, that
the spitting of blood ceased, and did not
occur again. I should be ill able to describe
what I felt at first beholding saliva entirely
white in his handkerchief, which I was exa
mining every moment. These details will
no doubt appear low, and even disgusting,
to persons whose hearts are cold and unfeel
ing ; but it is not for such that I write, and
those who have any sensibility will feel dif
ferently. On our arrival at La Capelle, we asked of
the mistress of the poste, on her word of

110 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
honour and her oath, whether we might ex
pect to reach Avesnes before the shutting of
the gates? She assured us that we should
not only be able to reach that place, but also
to leave it, which afforded us. much pleasure,
as we were pretty certain it was the only
place where we had any thing to fear. Pre
sently after I heard a dispute between the
woman and Peronnet, who alighted at every
poste to pay ; and this was the subject of it :
we travelled with three horses, and paid ge
nerously thirty sous for them. She maintained
(and, indeed, with justice), that as we were
three in the carriage, we ought to pay for
four horses. Peronnet maintained the con
trary, and she threatened to make us take
four horses and two drivers. We thought it
somewhat whimsical to be staking for one
moment our lives against ten sous, the differ
ence between the charge for three horses at
thirty sous each, and that for four horses at
twenty-five sous each. D'Avaray told her

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. Ill
that she treated us in that manner because
we were foreigners. " No," she said, " I
" should have a right to put six, if I pleased."
" Well," I answered in bad French (con
vinced, by the laughing which my accent
caused amongst all the postillions to whom I
had spoken, that I was taken for a true En
glishman), " put six horses ; I only pay for
"five." She laughed. And then address
ing Peronnet very seriously, I said to him,
"Monsieur Perron, pay what madame de-
" mands : it shall not be said that Michael
" Foster has had a dispute with a lady about
" money matters." The tone I assumed, the
gravity, the gestures, the accent, a thousand
things, in short, which cannot be described
in writing, rendered this the most comical
scene in the world ; but we knew better than
to laugh.
We inquired what regiment was in garri
son at Avesnes, and were told the regiment
of Vintimille. This information was not

112 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
agreeable to d'Avaray, who had, two years
before, given a dinner to the officers of this
regiment. It was settled, however, that he
should sit as back as possible in the car
riage, and we set off. On the way the sun,
which had not shone during any part of the
day, showed itself sufficiently to oblige me
to put up the blind ; a circumstance which
appears unimportant, but of which the con
sequences will soon be seen.
At the gate of Avesnes we were asked, as
usual, our names, and whether we were to
stop in the town ? We answered, that we
were two Englishmen, and that we should
continue our journey. We presented our pass
ports, which were not even looked at, and
we reached the poste; but Sayer, who was
much fatigued, and who had been told by
every body, and particularly by an English
man who chanced to be there, that it was
ridiculous for us to go further, as we could
not expect to get in at Maubeuge, had yielded

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 113
to these representations, and had not ordered
horses. We called for them immediately;
but we had to wait for them a long quarter
of an hour, just between the poste and the
military coffee-house, which was full of officers.
Fortunately the blind, which I mentioned
before, protected us on the side of the coffee
house ; and the officers even showed us the
attention to prevent some town's-people from
looking into the carriage. I observed, how
ever, the uneasiness of d'Avaray, divided be
tween the alarm which our situation caused
him, and his anger with Sayer, by whom we
had been placed in it: I endeavoured to quiet
him, and easily succeeded. We set off at
last ; and as soon as we were out of the town,
sang heartily " Victory is ours."
The postillion who drove us went at a
good pace, and seemed to be what is called a
determined fellow; but we observed, with
some apprehension, that he frequently looked
behind him : at length he stopped, and asked

114 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
whither we wished him to take us. " To
" the poste," I said. " Oh," he answered,
"the poste is a bad inn ; I will take you to
" the Grand Cerf, where you will be in good
"quarters." "But," I said, "it matters
" not whether the quarters are good or bad;
" we do not intend to sleep at Maubeuge."
" And where then do you want to go ?" he
asked. " To Mons," I replied. " To Mons,"
he said, laughing, " Oh! you will not get
" there to-day." " And why not ?" I asked.
" Because," he answered, " it is quite enough
" if they open the gates to let us in ; they
" will, most certainly, not open them to let
" us out again." " But," I said, " what
" need we care about the gates, open or shut,
" if the poste is not within the town of Mau-
" beuge ?" " It is within the town since
" the last six months," he answered. "Well,"
I said, " is there not a way to go round the
" town ?" " Yes, there is," he rephed.
" Then, my friend," I said, " as we are much

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 115
" pressed for time, and as your horses are
" good, could you not take us round the
" town, and double the poste? we will pay
" you well." " I?" he exclaimed, " I would
" not do it for the whole world !"
These few words opened upon me all the
horrors of our situation ; and seeing no further
hope, I thought only of resigning myself to the
fate which I foresaw but too well. My own
sacrifice was easy; but that of d'Avaray cut
me to my heart. However, d'Avaray, as calm
as if there had not been any danger, began
to speak in bad French, but with an eloquence
which I shall not attempt to imitate, and said
to the postillion that we were in a great hurry
to get to Mons, having left his sister, my
cousin, a charming girl that we loved exces
sively, very ill at Soissons; that the only
physician in whom she had any confidence
was at Mons ; that if we lost time in fetching
him, his sister would die, and we should be
the most unhappy of men j and lastly, that if
i2

116 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
he carried us through, he would give him
one, two, three guineas. This speech, backed
by the,promise of the three guineas, produced
a wonderful effect on the postillion ; and
after a moment's reflection, he said to us,
" Well, I will take you." But, a moment after,
he recommended to us not to enter Mau
beuge, but to have the horses brought out to
us : we observed to him that that would be as
difficult ; and he then told us that he was not
well acquainted with the way through the
suburb, but that he would take a guide. We
took Sayer again into the carriage, making
Peronnet mount on horseback to observe the
postillion, and we set off again.
As soon as we got into the suburb, the
postillion stopped, and entering a public-
house for some refreshment, asked for a
guide. Some women who were in the house,
and to whom he communicated some of the
interest which our pretended situation had
excited in him, told him that he could not

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 117
pass. " Why not," he said, " does the Pont
"Rouge no longer exist?" — "Yes," an
swered one of the women, " but there are
" works going on at the new Sambre ; they
" say that three hundred workmen are em-
" ployed upon them, and there are many
" trenches you will never get across." —
" Only get me a guide, that is all I want."
The woman who had spoken went to fetch
her brother, who happened to be one of the
workmen : he offered to conduct us to the
trench, but he confirmed what his sister had
said of the impossibility of crossing it. " If
" it were the devil," exclaimed the postillion,
" I will pass : take a lantern, and show me
" the way." This conversation, as may well
be supposed, afforded us no pleasure ; but
the resolution shown by the postillion gave
us hopes.
Thus did we -proceed across the fields,
within a hundred paces of the ramparts of a
fortified town, and tolerably certain of being

118 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
stopped, if there should be any sentry, who
should see our lantern, and who should know
his duty: we would willingly have compro
mised for their firing upon us with grape
from the top of the ramparts on condition
that they should not come out upon us.
Having arrived at the trench, I wished to
pass it on foot, but the postillion would not
allow it: he alighted, and having recon
noitred the trench, he found a spot, where,
although deep, it was not broad ; he mounted
his horse again, and carried us across as
cleverly as possible : the guide conducted us
as long as we were in the fields, leaving us
only when we were on the high road ; and
at last we took that of Mons, with a cer
tainty of arriving there without impedi
ment. Before I gave way to my joy, I returned
thanks to God for the recovery of my liberty.
I then wanted to share my joy with d'Avaray.
As we were not yet out of France, he wished

TO BRUXELLES AtfD COBLENTZ. 119
to check my transports, on account of Sayer,
who did not yet know who I was ; but the
latter was sleeping soundly on my shoulder,
and d'Avaray himself was too, much de
lighted not to be led away by me, I began
by seizing my odious tri-coloured cockade,
and applying to it the line from Armide :
" Vains ornemens d'un indigne molesse," &c. (6).
I tore it from my hat. — (I have requested
D'Avaray to keep it carefully, in the same
manner as Christopher Columbus preserved
his chains). We then- deliberated upon the
course we should follow at Mons, which we
considered as being still a fortified place, and
where we expected to find the gates shut.
We resolved to seek for a lodging in the
(6) Vain ornaments qf unworthy indolence, &c.
One does not see the applicability of this quotation
to the circumstances, nor can we quite agree that
Monsieur's cockade had any analogy to the fetters
of Columbus.

120 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
suburbs; and if we should not be able to
procure beds there, we agreed that I should
write to the commandant, in my own name,
to request that the gates might be opened.
We anticipated also the case of our finding
but one bed; I told d'Avaray that I should
give it up to him, and that, as being the
strongest, I should pass the night on a chair ;
he declared that he should not suffer it, and
that he would rather lie on a mattress on the
ground by the side of my bed : I insisted on
his sharing at least the bed which we were
not yet sure of getting ; and as every thing
took the lively turn in my mind, I parodied
the lines of Hippolytus and Aricia, which
begin, " Sous les drapeaux de Mars" (7),
substituting " matelas" (8) for " malheur" (9),
which made ns laugh much. These projects,
these disputes, the recollections of our jour-
(7) Under the standard qfMars.
(8) Mattress.
(9) Misfortune.

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 121
ney, a thousand others which assumed the
gayest colours in the minds of two of the
happiest beings that ever were, brought us
to the village of Bossu, a quarter of a league
from Mons. Our postillion, who had never
been here, thought he was in the suburb,
and we knocked at , several doors without
procuring admission at any one. At length
he told us that he saw the cathedral of Mons;
we went in that direction, and found it a
pigeon-house. By dint of going on, how
ever, we at last really arrived in the suburb,
and a blacksmith, we succeeded in awaking,
directed us to an inn ; but it had so poor an
appearance that we determined to use it only
for the purpose of writing to the commandant
of Mons. I got out of the carriage the first
time for twenty-four hours : we knocked at
the door, and a maid came and inquired what
we wanted. " To write a letter," I replied :
upon which she shut the door in my face.
But the postillion, who wanted some refresh-

122 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
ment, knocked so hard, that she opened it
again, and we went in. I was much in want
of it, for my legs were so stiff they could
hardly carry me.
My first care, whilst inquiry was making
after the accommodation which might be had
there, was to throw myself on my knees in
order to return thanks to God in a more
suitable posture than I had till then been
able to place myself in. Having performed
that*first duty, I fulfilled another not less
sacred or pleasing, by folding my dear d'Ava
ray in my arms, to whom I could now, for
the first time, give, without fear and without
indiscretion, the name of my deliverer. We
soon learned, however, that there were no
means of either sleeping or eating in this
abominable inn, and all we could obtain wa&
a little detestable beer. We, therefore, had
recourse to a letter to the commandant, which
was carried by Peronnet ; and in the mean
time we began to converse, by the side of a

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 123
wretched fire of peat, with our postillion,
who freely took a chair next to me. I asked
him his name, which he told me was La
Jeunesse. It will be easily conceived that
my question was not prompted by mere curi
osity, and that I was desirous of knowing the
name of a man, who had, although uncon
sciously, done me so great a service. I after
wards asked him whether there were many
priests at Avesnes who had taken the oath(l).
" We are not without some," he answered,
" but nevertheless the greatest number have
" been faithful to their duty. They have '
"thought of a new oath for the army, but all
" that is of no other use than to sow dissen-
" sions between the officer and the soldier ;
" indeed, Heaven knows how all those things
" go on." D'Avaray then inquired after the
regiment of 'Vintimille. " Oh," he answered,
" it is quiet enough ; but formerly they ex-
(1) This was the test between the loyal and the
constitutional clergy.

124 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
" ercised three times a week, and it was a
" pleasure to see them ; now, it is once in
" eight days, they go out at seven o'clock,
" and are in again at eight, and during that
" time nothing is heard, right or left, the
" music is playing constantly." I asked him
further, whether, if we had wanted to pass
the gates at Maubeuge, we should have ap
plied to the commandant or to the munici
pality. " Why," he said, " to the munici-
" pality, to be sure : have they not taken
" every thing upon them ? what are those
" municipals ? D — n'd ragamuffins ! Guess,
" pray, who commands la nation v/ith two
" epaulettes, if you please, in  (a village
" we came through, but I did not hear the
"name distinctly); — a vinegar seller." In
relating all this, he shrugged up his shoulders ;
he added to the effect of his words by his
tone and gestures : and in short he really
made us forget our fatigue and our hunger.
However, when Peronnet came and told us

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 125
that the gates were open, both revived, and
made us receive the news with great plea
sure. La Jeunesse told us that he had heard
that the best inn at Mons was La Couronne
Imperiale, and we told him to take us there.
On entering the town, we were asked our
names and rank: d'Avaray, to whom the
questions were put, was still hesitating, but I
ended the difficulty by saying that We were
Monsieur, brother of the King of France, and
the Conte d'Avarav; and that we wished to
go to the Couronne Imperiale. The serjeant
of the guard told us, we were expected at
La Femme Sauvage, and that Madame was
already arrived there. We could not very
well understand how, going by Tournay,
she could already be at Mons : nevertheless,
rejoicing at this addition to our good fortune,
we desired to be taken to La Femme Sauvage.
On reaching it we found the host at the door,
and he confirmed what we had been told of
our being expected ; but after ascending a
very indifferent staircase, we met a servant

126 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
with a light, who, after surveying me from
head to foot, told me with some embarrass
ment that I was not the person expected.
The door of the room was open, and a
female (2), in bed, cried out, " It is not he!
" don't come in." The host having now in
his turn surveyed me, said to me, " Are
" you not the Comte de Fersen?" — "iNo, in-
" deed," I replied ; "but if the lady will not
" receive us, could you not give us another
" room?" A dry negative was his only anr
swer : and tolerably dissatisfied, as may well
be supposed, with this adventure, which
seemed at first so fortunate, we went down
stairs, returned into our carriage, and drove to
the Couronne Imperiale, where the host like-
(2) Madame C, the wife of an Englishman who
died a year or two ago in France, and who was well
known in the fashionable and literary world. Ma
dame C. had been .employed by M. de Fersen in
some of the preparations for the King's escape, and
she had preceded the royal traveller, and was now at
Mons anxiously expecting the appearance of M. de
Fersen.

TO BRUXELLES AND CDBLENTZ. 127
wise declared to us that he had no room to give
us. This second mis-adventure began in
reality to discourage us, when a voice from the
house pronounced these words, "Monsieur
" d'Avaray, is it you ?" He did not imme
diately recognize it, but I knew it to be that
of Madame de Balbi. We alighted, and en
tered the house. Madame de Balbi employed
herself in procuring us some supper. That
of the inn was good for nothing ; but luckily
she had a cold chicken and a bottle of claret;
and we stopped. She had afterwards the
goodness to give me up her bed ; d'Avaray
took that of her maid ; and, the first time for
twenty months and a half, I lay down With
an assurance of not being awakened by some
scene of horror.
I slept about six hours, and I was waked.
by M. de la Chatre (3), who was at Mons, and
(3) The Comtej now Duc de la Chatre, so well
known in England as the friend of Louis XVIII. in
his exile, and for some time after the restoration
ambassador at our court.

128 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
whose impatience to see me had not allowed
him to let me finish my rest. A moment
after I had risen the Comte de Fersen arrived,
having conducted the King as far as Bondi.
Nothing was then wanting to my happiness,
as I was persuaded (ignorant as I was of any
details of the plan of escape) that once out
of Paris, the King would run no further
risk. I gave way to my joy, and cordially
embraced M. de Fersen. When I was dressed,
I received the visits of all the French at Mons,
and of the Austrian officers of the garrison
of Mons. I was infinitely flattered by the
manner in which they received me ; but I was
anxious to set out again on the road to Na
mur. I could not, however, depart before
two o'clock ; for the cartwright, in repairing
the famous felly which had caused us so
much trouble the day before, had contrived
to break its neighbour; so that, in order to
proceed, we were obliged to bind it also with
a clip of iron ; and we set off from Mons in
the same condition as we had entered it. I

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 129
inquired after La Jeunesse, and I learned that
they had given him ten louis ; that he had
been thunderstruck on first learning whom
he had driven ; but that the sight of so much
gold had pleased him so mightily, that he had
set off immediately without making any fur
ther inquiries. I have since heard, that he had
saved himself by declaring that we had com
pelled him by force to take us on ; and I was
much pleased to learn that he had escaped
the danger which he had incurred on our
-account. The journey from Mons to Namur afforded
nothing very interesting ; the effusion&of two
friends, one of whom is elated at having saved
the other, whilst the latter on his part enjoys
his good fortune the more because he is in
debted to his friend for it, are very delightful
for themselves, but must be unentertaining to
others. We arrived at Namur very late, and
dying of hunger ; and although I believe our
supper at the Hotel de Hollande was not a
K

130 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
very good one, we thought it excellent. We
were disposed to be easily satisfied ; and find
ing some tolerable rhenish wine, we drank
pretty freely of it. Altogether I never per
haps made a better or more cheerful supper.
On waking the next morning, I received
visits from General de Moitelle, and from all
the officers of the garrison, much more nu
merous than that of Mons. They appeared
to me to be so pleased that I was amongst
them, and so well disposed towards the cause
of the King, that I must have been most un
grateful not to have been affected by it ; nor
was I less so by the attentions which they
showed to my dear d'Avaray : one might have
supposed that they saw into my heart, and
were aware that what they did for him was
much more flattering to me than what they
did for myself. However, though not yet
feeling any uneasiness in regard to the King,
I began to think that there was some delay
in the arrival of news from Montmedy; and

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 131
I did not think it proper to throw myself
into Longwy(4), without knowing whether
we were masters of that part of the country.
I therefore requested General de Moitelle to
send a messenger to the Commandant of Lux
embourg, with orders to bring me, wherever
he might find me, the intelligence he might
obtain concerning the King ; and I was well
determined, if I did not receive any, to push
on to Luxembourg myself.
We had been warned that we should find
the roads very bad. During the first stage
we thought we had been deceived; but we
soon found the information was but too cor
rect. The iron pins which fastened the fore-
wheels of the carriage having given way, we
endeavoured to supply their places by cords;
but this not being found to answer, we were
obliged to stop at a place called Nattoye, to
(4) Longwy, it will be recollected, is a French
town; and the King Sad directed Monsieur to repair
thither as soon as he should have effected his escape.
K 2

132 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
get some new pins. As the sun shone strongly
on the spot where we were, I proposed to
d'Avaray to look for some shade; and we
went near a house, in front of which there
was a bench half burnt, which a little sur
prised us. A woman came out, and invited
us to walk in and refresh ourselves : we de
clined going in, but we accepted some chairs
she offered us outside the door. D'Avaray
sent Sayer for his writing-case, and began to
set down in ink the notes of our journey,
which he had taken with a pencil. Whilst
he was doing so, two women came near the
bench, one of whom was aged, and the other
younger (5) : the youngest sat down on the
bench, but the old woman, having placed upon
it a load somewhat heavy that she had been
(5) The interest with which Monsieur tells this
very ordinary story proves the kind of insulated
education which the French princes received. If he
had had the slightest knowledge of the world, he
would have seen nothing in this incident worth re
cording.

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 133
carrying, sank, rather than seated herself,
on the ground, and seemed to be taken ill.
We asked what was the matter ; but the mis
tress of the inn (for such it was) told us
they were two German women from Wurtz-
bourg, who executed the commissions of the
officers of the garrison of Namur. The'
youngest was looking at the other in a man
ner extremely affecting ; and though we did
not hear what she said, the word maman, pro
nounced in a tone as soft as a flute, struck
upon our ear, and still more on our heart.
We requested the mistress of the inn to give
her something, and she offered her some beer ;
but she asked for some brandy : the landlady
told us she had none, and that the wife of the
blacksmith, who was then repairing our car
riage, and who might have given some, was
at church ; but luckily some boys of the vil
lage came by, and she sent one of them, who
offered his services very willingly, to fetch
the brandy. While we were waiting for his
return, we expressed to the landlady our sur-

134 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
prise that there should not be a little brandy
in her house. " Oh, gentlemen," she said,
" you do not know what we have suffered
" lately ; I have been lamed by it, and I will
" tell you how it has happened. When the
" troops (6) retreated, the soldiers took every
" thing they could find ; and I was two days
" without any thing to eat or drink ; I was
" exhausted through weakness, and having
" the misfortune to fall from the top to the
" bottom of the stairs,' I put out my hip-bone.
" The patriots arrived the next day ; my hus-
" band fled, but, weak and hurt as I was, I
" could not follow him ; and, enraged at our
" having received the troops, they took all
" our furniture, and threw it into a fire which
" they lighted in the middle of the room :
" they wanted to throw me in too, but they
" changed their mind ; they broke my poor
" crutch, and dragging me about the house,
" and outside of it, they maimed me as you
(6) This relates to the disturbances in Flanders in
1789 and 1790.

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 135
" perceive." Saying this, she made me feel
the upper part of her hip, and I felt that in
fact the bone was dislocated in a manner not
to be set. The boy now returned with a glass
of brandy, and it was given to the old woman,
who drank a little, and then gave it to her
daughter : the latter wetted her lips, and re
turned it to her mother. We wanted to pay
the boy, but the mistress of the inn told us
she had given him twelve sous ; we would
have given him something more, but he ran
off too quickly for us to think of following him.
We then gave the landlady a piece of six
francs, and she brought the poor woman some
bread and butter, and some beer. The old
woman having recovered a little strength,
rose, and came to kneel before us, kissing our
hands. We raised her up immediately, and
taking off my hat, I pointed to the sky, and
said, Gott, Gott! upon which she took her
beads, pressed them to her heart, and began
to pray. The landlady, with whom we con
tinued conversing on the subject of her suf-

136 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY .
ferings, said to us, " Ah ! gentlemen, revolt
"tions are cruel things! I suffer as much
" from the revolution in France as from that
" in our own country, and I am very uneasy
" on account of my parents. I was born at
" Frombaine, near Givet ; I do what I can to
" prevail upon them to leave the town, but I
" cannot succeed, and it makes me very un-
" happy. Ah ! gentlemen, there is nothing
" but God, one's king, and one's country."
D'Avaray had already been affected to tears
by the action of the old woman ; I was moved,
elevated by the words of the landlady. " Well,
" my good woman," I said to her, " as you
" think so, pray to God for the king ; his life
" is perhaps in the greatest danger; he has
" left Paris." " Oh heavens !" she cried,
" what do you tell me ?" " Yes," said d'Ava
ray, " there is his brother, who escaped at
" the same time as himself." " And there,"
I added, " is the friend that has saved me."
I threw myself into his arms, and our tears
were mingled. Sayer, retired into a corner,

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 137
was wiping his eyes. The woman, much af
fected, said to me, " You are the brother of
" the King ! Ah ! if I might venture to touch
" you !" " Do better, my good woman, em-
" brace me."
The carriage was repaired ; I gave a louis
to the old woman ; she wanted again to kiss
my hand, but I embraced her, and we set off.
This accident had delayed us too much, to
leave us any hope of reaching Bastogne, where
we had intended to sleep. We therefore re
solved to stop at Marche ; and we sent Sayer
forward to have supper ready for us at the
inn of the poste, which the post-master at
Emptines, who seemed to us a connoisseur in
good living, had assured us was an excellent
one. On our arrival in the town, we were
taken to a house of good appearance; and
we were rejoicing at finding so good an inn,
but we were soon informed that we were at
the house of an old officer of the regiment de
Ligne, who had desired to receive us, be-

138 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
cause, notwithstanding the report of the post
master of Emptines, the inn of the poste was
good for nothing. This was a cruel (7) dis
appointment for me, as I always distrust a
family dinner. I cast a sorrowful look upon
d'Avaray, whose countenance I found quite
as much lengthened as my own. Our regret
increased when our host, who had just got out
of bed again (at nine o'clock in the evening)
told us that he was quite miserable not to
have been apprised two hours earlier, for he
would have given us some pigeons d la cra-
paudine; but his pigeons were now in the
pigeon-house, and his chickens alive : he had
however sent to the poste for a leg of mutton,
and we should have with it some salad and
some fresh eggs. These commons appeared
tous somewhat short ; but it was much worse,
when, a moment after, his cook returned, en
raged against the mistress of the poste, who
(7) We wish we could believe that these vehement
lamentations about a bad dinner were ironical.

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 139
positively refused, she said, to lend her the leg
of mutton. He offered us, in lieu, some veal
cutlets, which we accepted. We were a little
uneasy as to his wine, when we discovered
by chance a letter (8), advising him of the
arrival of a cask of old wine of Volnay of a
superior quality. We were delighted at this
discovery, and soon turned the conversation
to the subject of what wine he usually drank.
He told us vin de Bar ; and that as the last
vintage in that country had failed, he had
thought of sending for some Burgundy, which
had arrived about fifteen days ago, but that
he had been advised to let it rest a month
before he tapped it. We now fancied our
selves in a true Spanish inn (9) ; and we were
sorrowfully remarking how appropriate was the
appellation oi Marche en famine ; but, to our
(8) It seems that the writer and M. d'Avaray did
not scruple to amuse themselves with reading the
letters which they found on their host's table.
(9) The Spanish inns provide no food for tra
vellers.

140 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
great and* very agreeable surprise, the supper
was tolerably good ; and M. Donne (the name
of our host), who proved a pleasant com
panion, had the kindness to tap, although
prematurely, his wine of Volnay, which was
really very good.
On the following day the Duc de Laval
joined us, with his second son, and several
young men. M. de Falhouet, a gentleman of
Brittany, offered to go forward, in order to
bring me quicker news, if he should meet
any courier. I accepted this offer, and we
set off; but we had scarcely proceeded two
leagues when we saw M. de Falhouet returned,
bringing the melancholy intelligence of the
affair of Varennes.
I might here end my narrative ; the task of
my dear d'Avaray was fulfilled ; and the part
which devolved upon me, in consequence of
the arrest of the King, falls more within the
scope of general history than within that of a
private memoir ; but I have still some recol*

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 141
lections, which I wish to set down in this
place ; and those who have felt sufficient in
terest in the recital I have made of events
which concern only myself, to have induced
them to read on to the end, will not, perhaps,
be sorry to find them here.
My grief may easily be conceived : I re
gretted the success of my own attempt ; and,
for a moment, I thought of returning to
France, and assuming again my own fetters,
in order to share those of my unfortunate re
latives ; but I considered that, without ren
dering them any service, I should sacrifice
not only myself, but which was much dearer
to me, my friend and deliverer, whom no
thing could have induced to part from me.
On his part, as if he had penetrated into my
thoughts, he told me immediately, that if I
conceived that I ought to return into France,
he intreated me not to be withheld from so
doing by any consideration that related to
him, and that he would follow me every where
without uneasiness.

142 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
This new proof of his courageous attach
ment would have sufficed for my determina
tion, if I had not already taken it. I or
dered the driver to take us back to Marche;
and on the road we met the Duc de Laval,
whom I took into the carriage. My tears,
which had not flowed at the first instant,
now came to my relief, and I was able to
reflect more coolly on what I had to do, in
commencing the new career opening to me.
On our arrival at Marche, we were joined
there by the son of M. de Bouille (1), who in
formed us of the details of the unfortunate
event which had destroyed all our hopes. I
was well inclined to go, in the first instance, to
take some rest at Brussels j but as the road
from Marche to Namur, which is the shortest
way, runs very near the frontier, and it was
(1) Probably the chevalier, the younger son ; who
is still alive in America, and whose son lately chal
lenged the Duc of Choiseul in Paris for some re
flections on his father's conduct in the affair of
Varennes.

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 143
reported that some acts of hostility had been
committed, we deliberated for a moment whe
ther we should not proceed by Liege. Having,
however, taken a "survey of our arms, and
finding that we could fire sixteen pistol-shots,
which would be more than enough against a
party thai, could not be otherwise than small,
we resolved to return to Namur, proceeding
like a convoy. I took the precaution merely
«f sending M. de Betizy (2), one of the young
men I mentioned before, to General de Moi
telle, with a request that he would send us an
escort of houlans. M. de Betizy made such good
speed, the general showed so much good will,
and the houlans so much zeal, that they met
us three leagues from Namur, and we arrived
there without other accident than that of
breaking down once more, through the awk
wardness of the postillion.
(2) Probably the Count Charles de Betizy, since
celebrated for the exclamation with which he closed
one of his speeches in the Chamber of Deputies, Vive
le roi quand meme —

144 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
The pleasure which I derived from finding
Madame in this town was embittered by the
recollection of the situation of the rest of my
family, and the comparisons which I involun
tarily made between their fate and ours. De
termined on rejoining the Comte d'Artois, I
wrote to him that I was going to Brussels to
wait for tidings of him, and to learn where
we might meet: and, for. greater security, I
sent two couriers to him, one by Luxembourg,
and the other by Aix-la-Chapelle. In the
mean time, as I knew that the Bishop of
Namur intended to invite me to reside at his
palace, and I was aware that the clergy in
the Netherlands had behaved ill in the Revo
lution, I consulted General de Moitelle, who
advised me to accept the invitation ; and we
accordingly left our inn, and went to the
episcopal residence. We found there a very
good supper; but we had much difficulty in
getting rid of the officious attentions of the
bishop, who wanted to make us drink much
more than we liked, and especially some

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 145
aniseed, a species of liqueur stronger than
kirsch-wasser. The following day, before we
set off for Brussels, I wrote (taking the chance
of its being delivered) a letter for the King,
the Queen, or my sister ; but this letter never
reached its destination.
It had been my intention to go to a hotel at
Brussels, but the Archduchess (3) would by no
means consent to it, and she assigned for our
residence a small house attached to the pa
lace ; the palace itself not being fit to receive
us, as she had been obliged to strip it of its
furniture during the late troubles. All the
French in the city applied to see me ; but I
was too much afflicted for the fate of my un
fortunate relatives to be able to see any one.
The next day I received a letter from the
Comte d'Artois, announcing his approach. I
went to_meet him^j^m^Jin^embracing a bro-
ther^afriend, from whom our common misfor-
(3) Sister of the Emperor, and governess of Austrian
Flanders.

146 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
tunes had separated me for nearly twcjgears^I
forgot, for a moment, my past sorrows, my
present uneasiness, and my fears for the fu
ture. The joy he expressed at seeing me gave
me less pleasure, perhaps, than the manner
in which he received my dear d'Avaray.
Having learned, however, that theJKfogjaDjd
his family had returned to Paris, and that at
least_their Jives were for the present in safely>
we ...resolved _to appeal ; kijpublic ; and the
Archduchess had the goodness to lend us
her state-room, to enable us to receive our
countrymen. The pleasure they evinced at
seeing me again, and that which I myself
felt, soon turned my thoughts towards him
who had procured me this affecting scene,
and I hastened to fulfil the sacred duties
of gratitude, by loudly acknowledging the
obligations I was under to my deliverer.
I was well repaid for so doing; for, on leaving
me, the whole nobility went in a body to pay
him a visit. Let me be allowed to say it : of

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 147
all the flattering things I have experienced
during my life, this afforded me the greatest
satisfaction : there was no doubt a grain of \
self-love mixed up with it ; but friendship and i
gratitude had far the greatest share in it.
The eight days which I spent at Brussels
were, perhaps, the busiest of my whole life.
Placed suddenly at the head of one of the ~\
~ i. i ¦— .. i„ _ ._^UL,w„|IWu,| , , „ ,  .minnnirT— - T — riff- ~f~y»-^«-^^ic»fuJStrci-i' twwBWMWtiatMmif^^,. 1
greatest political machines that have ever /
existed, I had not only to carry on the eur- \
rent affairs, but also to learn the nast»jjfwhich /
I had remained ignorant in my prison, in
order toappjy it toAejgreseDt, I do not
believe I could have got through the business
without the Cprnte ,cl'Artoisa_who, far from
regretting the arrival of a colleague^ b^wjiom,
after all the pains he had taken, he_ might: Jje
dejmved of a share ofthe j^lory, hastened to
instruct me, to assist me, to put me forward,
and to add to my consequence : in a word, he
behaved not merely as a brother, but like a
most affectionate son : it was Charles the
l 2

148 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
Fifth (4) throwing himself into the arms of
King John after his captivity. I felt his kind
ness in a very peculiar and affecting manner,
at the audience of leave which we gave to the
nobility, before we left Brussels. I shall not
attempt to describe the scene; I should never
express sufficiently what I felt.
We set off on the 3d JuJ^iarJLigg£, and
went to the Hotel of the Aigle-Noir. As we
were very numerous, and the hotel was not
large, we had but one room for d'Avaray and
me. This circumstance, which. reminded me
of the time, still so recent, when travelling
in nearly the same country, we existed alone
for each other on the face of the earth, afforded
me lively satisfaction. On the 4th, we arrived
at_Aix-la-Chapelle, and found there the King
ofSjvcjcjij[5J^who, better informed than myself
(4) The Dauphin (afterwards Charles V.) governed
France during the captivity of his father John, made
prisoner at Poictiers in 1356.
(5) Gustavus HI., who, on the 6th Mar^hjaflowing,
was assassinated at a masked ballat Stockholm.

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 149
of the plan for the King's escape, had come
to^hjyyjlace under the pjetextjofthe waters,
bjjjjjn^reality^ in order to„bejie^erJhejcene

of action, in which his elevated mind desired
to take a part. I have forgotten to mention,
that as soon as he heard of the arrest of the
King, he wrote to me a handsome letter on
the subject; and it was a singular circum
stance, that this letter was brought to me by
the same Baron de Lieven, who, in 1772, had
brought to the late King, my grandfather, the
news of the revolution which had placed the
crown on the head of Gustavus the Third.
We remained a day at Aix-la-Chapelle, to con
verse more freely with this sovereign, with
whom we had so much reason to be satisfied.
I received also another very sincere grati
fication in this town : the Comte d'Hautefort,
a friend of d'Avaray from their earliest youth,
had no sooner learned my escape, than leaving
all his family at Heidelberg, where he had
settled, he hastened to meet us, and we found

150 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY
him on our arrival at Aix-la-Chapelle. I was
much affected by this mark of attention on
the part of a person who was as yet known to
me only as an agreeable acquaintance ; but I
was much more pleased at seeing my deliverer
derive another advantage from what he had
done for me, in meeting a friend from whom
he had been separated nearly two years. His
vanity might, on more than one previous
occasion, have been flattered, but he now en
joyed a satisfaction of the heart, which it was
impossible that mine should not partake ; and
since I have been better acquainted with the
Comte d'Hautefort, my regard has become
my own personally.
The 6th we slept at Bonne, at the Elector
of Cologne's, with whom we had settled it at
Aix-la-Chapelle ; and the 7th we arrived at
Coblentz^ The Ele£tc£j>fjr^^ had
thej*oc^nj^sj3j^ Schon-
bornslustto the Comte d'Artpjs. beforejny

TO BRUXELLES AND COBLENTZ. 151
escape; and he^jUdjyKe_sjrne favour to Ma
dame and myself. I remembered having seen
him in France thirty years before, and I had
a real pleasure in seeing him again. The
reception he gave us was the forerunner of
all the kindness he has since shown to us, and
to all the French who were collected around
us by their zeal in the, cause of the altar
and the throne.
It is here that, properly speaking, I began
rrrvjnohric^MWe ; and here I might terminate
my narrative ; but I should not be content, nor
would, I apprehend, my readers, if I said no
thing more. Three weeks had elapsed since
my escape, and I had yet done nothing for my
deliverer. I grieved more than I can tell that
the prince should remain ungrateful, whilst
the friend so loudly expressed his gratitude.
At length I received a letter from the Duc
de Levis, who, after some reproaches on the
total ignorance in which I had left him, con-

152 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY, #C.
eluded by giving in his resignation (6). The
moment I received this letter I hastened to
d'Avaray, who was almost surprised when
I_a^£°iil^„M®JtllL.i^9££sJor OI> tne ^uc ^e
Levis, and who thanked me as much as if I
were not discharging a sacred debt, and as if
I did not feel a thousand times more pleasure
in discharging than in contracting it.
I know not what may be the fate of my
country, or my own ; but whatever lot Pro
vidence may intend for me, it can never
take from me so much as it has given to me,
in such a friend as my dear d'Avaray.
(6) Of place of captain of Monsieur's guards.

PRIVATE MEMOIRS
OP WHAT PASSED IN
THE TEMPLE,
FROM THE IMPRISONMENT OF THE ROYAL FAMILY
TO THE DEATH OF THE DAUPHIN.

BY
MADAME ROYALE, DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME.

NOTICE.

The following pages are written by the only survivor
of the prisoners of the Temple, — the Duchess of Angou
leme, Princess Royal of France.
Her name does not indeed appear in the title-page, but
there is hardly a page which does not afford internal evi
dence of its authenticity.
The notes from which it was composed, we are told,
were made at the moment by stealth, and with pencils
which Her Royal Highness contrived to conceal from
her persecutors. The last line implies that they were
written in the Temple.
It will be observed that several passages are obscure,
and one or two contradictory : there are frequent repe-
tions, and a general want of arrangement. All these,
which would be defects in a regular history, increase- the
value of this Journal : they attest its authenticity, and
forcibly impress on our minds the cruel circumstances of
perplexity and anxiety under which it was written ; and
the negligence and disorder, if I may use the expression,
in which the Princess appears before us, become her misery
better than a more careful and ornamented attire.
It is a great proof of her good taste, as well as of her
conscientious veracity, that she has not permitted any
polishing hand to smooth down the colloquial simplicity
of her style, and the irregular, but forcible, touches of her
expression.

156
This narrative was first published in 1817 ; it has been
lately republished with some slight variations, and a
greater appearance of authority. In the first edition, the
Princess was made to speak in the third person, and one
or two omissions were made. . The translation (which ori
ginally appeared in 1817) has been revised and accommo
dated to the new edition, and the variations are mentioned
in the notes.
There are some little ' differences on minor points
between Her Royal Highness's account and those of
M. Hue and Clery. These might have been easily cor
rected or omitted : but, again, we think the Duchess has
acted with perfect good taste and judgment, in leaving
these passages as they were originally written. Those
who will take the trouble to compare hers with the other
two accounts will see that these trifling variances (and
they are very trifling) instead of invalidating, support the
credit of all the narrators, and prove that they all faithfully
report the impressions or the information which they
severally received.

MEMOIRS,
fyc. fyc.

f_1792.] — The King my father, and his fa
mily, reached the Temple at seven o'clock in
the evening of the 13th August, 1792. The
gunners wanted to take him alone to the
Tower (1), and to leave us in the Palace of the
(1) The Temple, which had its name, like our
Temple, from the knights templars, consisted of two
distinct buildings; — the palace of the Temple, which
faced the Rue de Temple, where one of the princes
of the blood usually resided (latterly the Count
D'Artois lived there), and the tower of the Temple,
which was situated in the space behind the palace.
The tower consisted of a great square tower, with a
round tower at each corner ; and on one side there
was a small addjjion, which was usually called the;
Tourelle or Turret, though the small round towers
were also so called. The tower of the Temple was
so little known in Paris, that some of those who at-

158 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
Temple, but Manuel (2) had by the way re
ceived an order to shut us all up in the Tower.
Petion appeased the anger of the gunners, and
the order was executed. Petion went away,
but Manuel remained, and the municipal
officers would not let the King out of their
sight : he supped with his family. My
brother was dying with sleep. At eleven
o'clock Madame de Tourzel took him to
the tower, which was positively to be the
common lodging of all. About one o'clock
in the morning, my father and the rest of
the family were conducted thither; — there

tended the King never saw or heard of it till the fatal
night his majesty was confined there. Mr. Hue gives
an interesting description of his first and uncertain
view of this curious old edifice. Buonaparte, anxious
to extinguish all recollections of ancient times, razed
the Temple.
(2) We shall give, in the course of the work, notices
of the most remarkable personages whose names we
may meet ; but they occur in such a number in these
first pages, that the notes would overwhelm the text.

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 159
was nothing ready for our reception. My
aunt slept in the kitchen, and it was said
that Manuel himself was ashamed at showing
her the way to such a bedchamber.
These are the names of the persons who
were confined with us in this melancholy
abode : —
The Princess of Lamballe, Madame de
Tourzel, and Pauline her daughter : Messrs.
Hue and Chamilly (3), who slept in a room
above ; they belonged to my father : Madame
Navarre, my aunt's waiting-woman, who, as
well as Pauline, slept in the kitchen with
her. Madame St. Brice, who took care of
my brother; she slept in the billiard-room
with him and Madame de Tourzel. Madame
Thibaut, the Queen's woman, and Madame
Bazire, mine, lay down stairs. My father
(3) First valet-de-chambre of the King. His fidelity
to his master affected even the Septembrisers at La
Force, who spared his life ; he was, however, brought
to the guillotine in June, 1 794.

160 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
had three men, Turgis (4), Cretien, and Mar-
chand. Next day, the 14th, my brother came to
breakfast with his mother, and we all went
afterwards to visit the great rooms of the
Tower, where it was said that accommoda
tions were to be prepared for us, as the turret
was too small to hold us all.
The next day, Manuel and Santerre having
come, we went to walk in the garden.
There was a great deal of murmuring against
the ladies who had accompanied us : on
our arrival we had found some women

(4) These persons had been menial servants of the
King, and, with a provident devotion to his per
son, contrived to get employed in the Temple. Of
Cretien and Marchand I know nothing more; but
Turgis continued to distinguish himself by his courage
and fidelity to the royal family. At the risk of his
life, he kept up their communication with their friends.
Madame Elizabeth peculiarly valued him, and the
Duchess of Angouleme has since placed him in her
own family.

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 161
appointed by Petion to wait upon us; and
although we rejected them, there was, the
next day but one, a decree oftheCommune(5),
ordering the dismissal of those who had come
with us : but my father and mother having
formally opposed this, and the municipal
officers who were engaged in the Temple
having joined them, the order was for the
moment revoked.
We all passed the day together. My father
taught my brother geography ; my mother
history, and to get verses by heart ; and my
aunt gave hi m little lessons in arithmetic. My
father had fortunately found a library (6),
(5) The Commune, or common council, of the city
of Paris, took very early a prominent share in the
revolutionary government. It was often as powerful,
and generally more mischievously active, than even
the National Assemblies or Convention. All that
belonged to the custody, or rather persecution, of the
royal family, was, by this atrocious junto, jealously
affected to itself.
(6) The archives of the Order of Malta were kept in
M

162 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
which amused him, and my mother worked
tapestry. The municipal officers were very fa
miliar, and showed little respect even for the
King; one of them always kept sight of him.
My father asked to have a man and woman
sent m to do the coarser kind of menial work.
The night between the 19th and 20th
August, a new order of the Commune di
rected the removal from the Temple of all
the persons who were not of the royal family.
M. Hue and Chamilly were removed from my
father, who remained alone with a municipal
officer. They then came down to carry away Ma
dame de Lamballe. My mother strongly op
posed this, saying (what indeed was true),
that this princess was of the royal family (7) ;
the Tower, and this library was attached to the office
of the archivist or keeper.
(7) The Princess de Lamballe was of the house of
Savoy, and the widow of Louis de Bourbon, Prince
de Lamballe, son of the Duke of Penthievre. She
was united in the strictest affection and friendship

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 163
they nevertheless carried her away. My
aunt went down with Madame de Navarre
and Pauline de Tourzel ; the municipal
officers promised that these ladies should
return when they had been examined. My
brother was taken into his mother's apart
ment, that he might not be left alone. The

with the Queen ; and wheu the arrangements for the
journey to Montmedy, better known by the name of
the flight to Varennes, obliged them to part for a
moment, Madame de Lamballe made her way to
England; but when she heard of the Queen's re
capture, not all the persuasions of her friends, nor all
her own forebodings of her fate, could prevent her
hastening to rejoin her royal friend; whom she ac
companied and cheered, during her dreadful trials,
with unexampled fortitude and devotion, till the se
paration here mentioned ; which was followed in a
few days by the massacre of this amiable woman,
under circumstances of unmanly cruelty and cannibal
atrocity, unparalleled in the annals even of France.
She, as well as the Queen, had been the object of the
most brutal calumnies : but in the hour of trial, in
their agony, and in their death, how nobly did these
august persons refute the slanders of their ignorant
and malignant libellers !
m2

164 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
Queen could not tear herself from the arms
of Madame de Lamballe. We embraced all
these ladies, hoping however to see them again
next day, and we all four passed the night
without sleep. My father, though awake, also
remained in his bedchamber, and the mu
nicipal officers never left him.
Next day, at seven o'clock, we learned
that the ladies would not return to the
Temple, and that they had been taken to
the prison of La Force (8): but we were
very much surprised, at nine o'clock, to see
M. Hue (9) return, who said that the council-
(8) The palace of the noble family of La Force,
which had been purchased by the government, and
converted into a prison.
(9) M. Hue is the author of a most interesting and
valuable work, called " The last Year of the Life
" and Reign of Louis XVI." This worthy servant has
distinguished himself by a fidelity at once chivalrous
" and useful to his master and his family. He is im
mortalized in the King's will. After he was dragged
from the Tower, during the massacres of September,
1792, he never forgot his duty; he was still inde-

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 165
general of the Commune had pronounced him
innocent, and sent him back to the Temple.
After dinner, Petion sent a man of the name
of Tison, and his wife, to do the coarse work.
My mother, took my brother into her own
room, and sent me with my aunt into another.
We were only separated from my mother by
fatigable in the service of the royal prisoners : there
was no sort of danger which he did not risk for them ;
and his devotion was limited only by his anxiety that
they should not lose his services. He accordingly
remained in Paris during the whole reign of terror,
witnessing the gradual diminution of the royal family
by the guillotine, or ill usage ; and, in spite of per
sonal danger, never could be persuaded to leave that
bloody city till the Orphan of the Temple was sent to
Germany, when he followed, and rejoined her. He
afterwards came with her to England, and was one of
those who accompanied Louis XVIII. when he sailed
from Dover in April, 1814, to ascend a throne of
danger, anxiety, and care ; where he needed, almost
as much as his unhappy brother, that energy, that self-
confidence, that adherence to high principles, that de
votion to his friends, that severity towards his enemies,
which are not to be found in the character or councils
of either.

166 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
a little room, where a municipal officer and
a sentinel were placed. My father remained
above stairs; but, having learned that they
were preparing another apartment for him —
which he by no means wished for, because he
would be thereby still farther removed from
his family — he sent for Palloi (1), the foreman
of the labourers, to prevent the work being
proceeded in ; but Palloi replied insolently,
that he received no orders but from the
Commune. We went up every morning to the King's
apartment to breakfast; and afterwards the
whole family returned to the Queen's, where
the King passed the day. We went every day
to walk in the garden, for the sake of my
brother's health, where the King was always
insulted by the guard. On the feast of St.
(1) Palloi's claim to be employed in fortifying the
new state-prison was his supposed share in the destruc
tion of the old. He was a mason, and boasted of being
one of the conquerors of the Bastille.

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 167
Louis, at seven o'clock in the morning, Ca
Ira was sung under the walls of the Temple.
We learned that morning, by a municipal
officer, that M. de la Fayette (2) had quitted
France. Manuel, in a conversation with my
father in the evening, confirmed the report.
He brought my aunt a letter from her aunts at
Rome (3). It was the last the family received
from without. My father was no longer
called King. He was treated with no kind of
respect; and, instead of " Sire," or " Your
"Majesty," was called only Mr.or Louis. The
officers always sat in his presence, and never
took off their hats.
(2) La Fayette, after an alternation of wickedness and
weakness, lost all courage and hope ; and, abandoning
duties which he had arrogated to himself, fled basely
enough from a storm of his own raising; leaving the
unhappy victims of his follies, his faults, and his per
fidy, to perish on the scaffolds of his late associates.
His desertion saved him from the guillotine, to be one
of Buonaparte's Chamber of Deputies.
(8) Mesdames Adelaide and Victoire, daughters of
Louis XV., who had with some difficulty escaped out
of France in 1790.

168 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
They deprived him of his sword (4), and
they searched his pockets. Petion sent Clery (5)
to wait upon him, who had been before in my
father's service ; but he, at the same time, sent
as turnkey and gaoler the horrible man (6) who
had broken open his door on the 20th (7) of
(4) See Mr. Hue's touching account of the sensibility
with which the King felt this indignity.
(5) Clery, the author of a most interesting "Journal
"of what passed in the Tower of the Temple, during
" the Captivity of Louis XVI." Of a lower rank, and
possessing less power of being useful, Clery's affec
tionate and heroic fidelity places him nevertheless by
the side of Monsieur Hue. Clery did not Uve to see
the restoration; he died at Vienna on the 10th of June,
1809 ; and on his tomb is inscribed, " Here lies the
" faithful Clery !"
(6) The name of this wretch was Rocher: he was a
saddler by trade, and afterwards had a commission in
the armies. Our readers recollect that Rocher was the
name assumed by the Queen in the flight to Varennes.
(7) Every body knows that on the 20th of June the
king's palace was forced by the mob, in whose hands
the royal family remained for several hours. The
conduct of all the members of this unhappy family,
on this trying occasion, was, in the highest degree,
courageous and noble. Two circumstances in par
ticular cannot be too often repeated. At a critical

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 169
June, 1792, and who had been near assassin
ating him. This man never left the Tower,
and was indefatigable in endeavouring to tor
ment him. One time he would sing the
Carmagnole, and a thousand other horrors
before us ; again, knowing that my mother
disliked the smoke of tobacco, he would puff
it in her face, as well as in that of my
father, as they happened to pass him. He
took care always to be in bed before we went
to supper, because he knew that we must pass
through his room. Sometimes, even, he
would be in bed as we went to dinner : in
short, there was no species of torment or
insult that he did not practise. My father
moment of the riot, a grenadier told the King not to
be afraid : — the King put the man's hand to his heart,
and said, " Feel whether it beats more quickly than
" usual." The mob, mistaking Madame Elizabeth for
the Queen, began to ill-treat her : some of the attend
ants, alarmed for her safety, exclaimed, " It is not the
" Queen !" — " Alas !" said the generous Princess,
" why do you undeceive them ?"

170 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
suffered it all with gentleness, forgiving the
man from the bottom of his heart. My
mother bore it with a dignity of character
that frequently repressed their insolence.
The garden was full of workmen, who often
insulted my father. One of them even
boasted before him that he wished to split the
Queen's head with the tool with which he was
working. Petion, however, caused him to be
arrested. These insults increased on the 2d of Sep
tember. They even threw stones at my fa
ther from the windows, which fortunately did
not reach him. About the same time, a
woman, probably with good intentions, wrote
on a large piece of paste-board, " Verdun is
" taken," and held it up to a' window (8). My
aunt had time to read it, though none of the
officers saw it. Hardly had we heard this
news, when a new municipal officer, named
(8) The windows of the houses in the adjoining
streets overlooked the garden of the Temple.

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 171
Mathieu (9), arrived ; he was in a furious pas*
sion, and ordered my father to go in : we all
followed, fearing to be separated from his
majesty. On going up stairs, Mathieu found Mr.
Hue, whom he seized by the collar, crying
out, that he arrested him. Mr. Hue, to gain
time to receive the commands of my parents,
asked for some delay, that he might pack up
his effects. Mathieu refused; but another
officer, more charitable, consented. Mathieu
then turned to my father, and said to him
every thing that the most brutal rage could
suggest : amongst the rest he exclaimed —
" The drum has beat to arms ; the tocsin has
" sounded ; the alarm-guns have been fired ;
" the emigrants are at Verdun ; if they come,
" we shall all perish ; but you shall die first!"
(9) Almost the last words Louis spoke were to ask
pardon of this wretch, whose brutality had betrayed
the King into an expression of impatience. Clery calls
him Mathey ; but it was the same person.

172 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
My father heard all this, and a thousand
such sallies, with the calm that hope inspires.
My brother burst out crying, and ran into
another room. I followed him, and had the
greatest difficulty in quieting him. The poor
child fancied his father already murdered.
Mr. Hue now came back, and, after Mathieu
had gone through his violence over again,
they went away together. Fortunately* Mr.
Hue was taken only to the Town-house,
for the massacre was already begun at the
Abbaye. He remained a month in prison ;
but, when he was released, he did not return
to the Temple.
The other officers all disapproved the fero
cious conduct of Mathieu, but they could do
no more. They told my father that it was
universally believed that the King of Prussia
was advancing and killing all the French he
met, under an order signed Louis. There
was no species of calumny which they did not
invent, even the most absurd and incredible:

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 173
The Queen, who could not sleep, heard the
drums beating all night, but we knew not
why. The 3d of September, Manuel (1) came to
see the King, and he assured him that Ma
dame de Lamballe, and all the other persons
who had been removed from the Temple,
were well, and in security together, in the
prison of La Force. At three o'clock, just
- I'.r,
(1) An attorney, son of a porter, tutor in a gentle
man's family, and at last a Jacobin and Convention
alist. He was the attorney-general of the commune of
Paris, the soul of the insurrection of the 20th of June,
and a great contributor to that of the 10th of August.
He moved that the King should be sent to the Temple,
volunteered to be his gaoler there, and became his
proselyte. Touched by the candour, virtue, and inno
cence of the royal family, " almost he was persuaded
" to become" a royalist. He voted against the King's
death, he denounced the massacres, and, after escaping
assassination, perished on the scaffold, the 14th of No
vember, 1 793, at the age of forty-two. The dreadful
moment, to him, must have been when, on his reach
ing his prison, his fellow-sufferers assailed him with
every mark of indignation, for crimes which he had
now learned to detest as much as they did.

174 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
after dinner, and as the King was sitting
down to tric-trac with my mother (which
he played for the purpose of having an op
portunity of saying a few words to her
unheard by the keepers), the most horrid
shouts were heard. The officer who hap
pened to be on guard in the room behaved
well : he shut the door and the window, and
even drew the curtains, to prevent their see
ing any thing ; but, on the outside, the work
men, and the gaoler, Rocher, joined the as
sassins, and increased the tumult.
Several officers of the guard and of the
municipality now arrived : the former insisted
that my father should show himself at the win
dows ; fortunately the latter opposed it ; but,
on my father's asking what was the matter,
a young officer of the guard replied, " Well !
" since you will know, it is the head of Madame
"de Lamballe that they want to show you."
At these words my mother was overcome with
horror; it was the only occasion on which

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 175
her firmness abandoned her. The municipal
officers were very angry with this young man ;
but the King, with his usual goodness, ex
cused him, saying, that it was not the officer's
fault, but his own, since he had questioned
him. The noise lasted till five o'clock. We
learned that the people had wished to force
the door, and that the municipal officers
had been enabled to prevent it only by
putting a tri-coloured scarf across it, and
by allowing six of the murderers 'to march
round our prison with the head of the Prin
cess, leaving at the door her body, which they
would have dragged in also. When this de
putation entered, Rocher shouted for joy, and
at the sight of the bloody head, scolded a
young man who turned sick with horror at
this spectacle.
The tumult was hardly over, when Petion (2),
(2) Petion, an advocate of Chartres, a tool of the
Duke of Orleans, member of the States- General,

176 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
instead of exerting himself to stop the mas
sacres, coolly sent his secretary to the King with
some money. This man was very ridiculous,
and said a thousand things which at another
moment would have made one laugh. He
thought my mother was standing up out of re
spect for him ; because, since this dreadful
scene, she had remained standing and motion
less, perfectly insensible of all that was going
on. The municipal officer, who had given
his scarf to tie across the door, took care to
make my father pay him the value.
My aunt and I heard the drums beating
to arms aU night ; my unhappy mother did
not even attempt to sleep ; we heard her
mayor of Paris, a conventionahst, and a regicide. He
and Robespierre were called two fingers qf the same
hand; but he soon found, that Robespierre had four
fingers against his one. Their enmity was almost as
bloody as their friendship had been. Petion was out
lawed ; and, escaping the gentler death of the scaffold,
was found in the woods dead, and half-devoured by
wild beasts.

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 177
sobs. We did not believe that the massacre
was still going on, and it was only some time
after that we learned that it had lasted three
days. It is impossible to describe all the violent
scenes which were occasioned, as well by the
municipal officers as by the guard ; every
thing alarmed their guilty consciences. One
day, a man having fired a gun in the Temple,
to try it, they examined him with great cere
mony, and drew up a formal account of the
transaction. Another time, during supper,
there was a cry " To arms !" — they believed
the Prussians were coming. The brutal
Rocher drew his sabre, and said to my father,
" If they come, I shall kill you." It was
nothing, however, but some mistake of the
patroles. On one occasion, however, about a hundred
workmen, led perhaps by some friend of our
family, undertook to force the iron gate at the
N

178 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
side of the Rotunda (3) ; the guard and muni
cipal officers hurried to the spot ; these work
men were dispersed, and perhaps, alas ! there
were some lives lost.
The severity of these municipal officers in
creased daily. There were, however, two of
them who alleviated the sufferings of my pa
rents, by showing them pity, and by giving
them hopes. I am afraid they are dead.
There was also one sentinel, who, through
the keyhole, had a conversation with my
aunt. This poor man did nothing but weep
the whole time he was in the Temple ; may
Heaven have rewarded him for his affectionate
attachment to his sovereign !
When I took my lessons, and my mother
wrote out extracts of books for me, a mu
nicipal officer continually looked over my
shoulder, thinking we were employed in con-
(3) A circular building on the N.E. side of the en
closure of the Temple.

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 179
spiracies. They had refused us the news
papers, that we might not know the state
of affairs abroad. One day, however, they
brought one to my father, telling him it con
tained something interesting for him. Mon
sters ! — it was a statement that they would
make a cannon-ball of his head. The calm
and contemptuous silence of my father dis
appointed the malice of those who had sent
this infernal writing. There was also a mu
nicipal officer who came one night, and, after
a thousand insults and threats, repeated what
had been before said, that, if the enemy ad
vanced, we should all perish. My brother
alone, he said, " excited some pity ; but that,
" being the son of a tyrant, he must needs die
" with the rest." These were the scenes
which each day brought with it.
The republic was proclaimed on the 22d
September ; they communicated it to us with
great joy : this day they also reported the re-
n 2

180 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
treat of the Prussians. We could not believe
it, but it was true.
In the beginning of October they removed
pens, p^aper, ink, and pencils ; they searched
every where, even with rudeness : that did
not, however, prevent my mother and me
from concealing some pencils, which we pre
served. My father and my aunt gave up
theirs. The evening of the same day, after my
father had supped, he was told to stop, that
he was not to return to his former apart
ments, and that he was to be separated from
his family. At this dreadful sentence the
Queen lost her usual courage : we parted
. from him with abundance of tears, though
we expected to see him again in the morn
ing. In the morning, however, they brought
us our breakfast separately from his : my
mother would take nothing. The officers,

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 181
alarmed at her silent and concentrated sorrow,
allowed us to see the King — but at meal-times
only, and on condition that we should not
speak low, nor in any foreign language, but
loud, and in good French. We went down
therefore with the greatest joy, to dine with
my father. One of the officers observed that
Madame Elizabeth had spoken low to the
King : he chid her violently.
In the evenings, when my brother was in
bed, my mother and my aunt sat with him
alternately, while the other went with me to
sup with my father. In the mornings, after
breakfast, we remained in the King's apart
ments, while Clery dressed our hair, as he
was no longer allowed to come to my mother's
room, and we had, besides, by this arrange
ment, the pleasure of spending a few moments
more with my father.
One day Manuel came to my father, and
took from him, with great rudeness, his red

182 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
ribbon (4). He assured him, that, of all the
persons who had been in the Temple, Ma
dame de Lamballe alone had perished. An
oath of fidelity to the nation was now admi
nistered to Clery, Tison, and his wife.
One night a municipal officer coming on
duty, awakened my brother suddenly, that
he might see that he was safe ; this was the
only occasion in which my mother showed
any impatience at the conduct bf these people.
Another of them told my mother that Petion's
design was not the death of my father, but
to confine him for life with my brother, in
the castle of Chambord. I cannot tell what
this man's object could be in repeating this
story, for he never came again.

(4) The Cordon of St. Louis. The Order of the
St. Esprit had been abolished by the assembly ; and
the King, scrupulous in obeying even the most un
just decrees which took the shape of a law, had ceased
to wear it.

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 183
They had now placed my father in an
apartment under that of my mother : my
brother slept in the former. Clery and a
municipal afco officer slept in the same apart-
ments. The windows were blocked up with
new gratings and blinds ; the chimnies (5)
smoked very much.
The following is the way our family passed
their days.
My father rose at seven, and was employed
in his devotions till eight. Afterwards he
dressed himself and my brother, and at nine
came to breakfast with my mother. After
breakfast, my father taught my brother his
lessons till eleven. The child then played
till twelve, at which hour the whole family
was obliged to walk in the garden (6), what-
(5) The former edition described those chimnies as
being only stove funnels.
(6) This, it will be seen, applies only to a small por
tion of the time. The luxury of a walk in the garden
was soon denied to them.

184 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
ever the weather might be; because the
guard, which was relieved at that time, wished
to see all the prisoners, and satisfy themselves
that we were safe. The walk lasted till
dinner, which was at two o'clock. After
dinner my father and mother played at tric
trac or piquet, or, to speak more truly, pre
tended to play, that they might have an op
portunity of saying a few words to one an
other. At four o'clock, my mother and we
went up stairs and took my brother with us,
as my father was accustomed to sleep a
little at this hour. At six my brother went
down again to my father to say his lessons,
and to play till Supper-time. After supper,
at nine O'clock, my mother undressed him
quickly, and put him to bed. We then went
up to our own apartment again, and the
King did not go to bed till eleven. My mo
ther worked a good deal of tapestry: she
directed my studies, and often made me read
aloud. My aunt was frequently in prayer,

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 185
and read every morning the divine service
of the day. She read a good many religious
books, and sometimes, at the Queen's re
quest, would read aloud.
They permitted us to have newspapers
again, that we might see the retreat of the
Prussians, and the horrid libels against the
King, of which they were full. One day,
one of these people said to us, " Come,
" ladies, I have good news for you : several
" emigrant traitors have been taken : if you
" are patriots, you must be glad of it." My
mother, as usual, made no reply, and did
not even appear to hear him. Her calm con
tempt, and her dignified air, generally struck
them with respect. They seldom ventured
to speak to her.
A deputation (7) of the Convention came,

(7) The names of the members of this deputation, as
given by Clery, differ a little from Madame's — neither,
perhaps, mention all that came.

186 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
for the first time, to see the King in the Tem
ple : the members asked him whether he had
not any complaint to make. He replied No;
that, while he was permitted to remain with his
family, he was happy. Clery complained that
the tradesmen who supplied the Temple were
not paid. Chabot answered, "The nation is
" not reduced to half-a-crown." These depu
ties were Chabot(8), Dupont(9), Drouet(l),
and Le Cointre-Puyravaux (2) : they came ,
(8) Chabot, a capuchin, an apostate, and a regicide :
he was guillotined on the 5th of April, 1794.
(9) Dupont, one of those cold-blooded philosophers
who affected to discuss abstract questions, while their
colleagues were shedding the noblest blood of Europe.
He was a regicide, and boasted in the tribune that he
was an atheist : these two qualities could not fail to
recommend him to Buonaparte, who employed him.
(l)^Drouet, the same who arrested the King at
Varennes. The reader will not fail to observe the
calculated cruelty of sending this man to the Temple.
(2) Le Cointre-Puyravaux, a lawyer and regicide.
He pronounced his judgment in the following elegant
' and logical formula : — " I represent the people ; the
" people has been assassinated by the tyrant. I vote

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 187
again after dinner to repeat the same ques
tions. One day Drouet came alone, and
asked my mother if she had no complaint to
make. She made him no answer.
A short time after, as we were at dinner,
some gendarmes arrived, who fell upon Clery,
and forced him off to one of the tribunals.
Some days before, Clery, in going down
stairs in company with one of the municipal
officers, had met a young man of his
acquaintance, who was on guard. They
wished one another good morning, and shook
hands. The officers took umbrage at this,
and caused the young man to be arrested.
It was to be confronted with him before
the tribunal that Clery was now taken. My
father entreated they might be allowed to
return. The municipal officers said he would
"for the death of the tyrant." So late as 1798, he
wished to enforce the atrocious sentence of death
against the emigrants. He was one of Buonaparte's
commissaries of police in his reign ofi 81 5, but I know
not what has since become of him.

188 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
not return. He did, however, return at mid
night. He asked the King's pardon for his
past conduct, which the kindness of my fa
ther, the exhortations of my aunt, and the
distress of the whole family, induced him to
change. He was ever after truly faithful
to us (3).
One day a great noise was heard of a mob
crying out for the heads of my father and
mother. They had the cruelty to yell these
horrors under our windows.
My father fell ill of a violent cold. They
permitted him to send for a physician and
his apothecary, Lemonnier and Robert. The
Commune was uneasy ; there was a regular
bulletin of his health. He got better. The
whole family had colds, but the King's was
the most serious.
The Commune was changed the 2d of De
cember. The newly-elected municipal officers
(3) This expression of dissatisfaction at one part of
Clery's conduct was omitted in the original edition,

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 189
came at ten o'clock at night toreconnoitre (4)
my father and his family. Some days after,
there was a decree of this new Commune, to
turn away Clery and Tison ; to take from us
our knives, scissors, and other sharp instru
ments ; and finally, that whatever we ate
should be previously and carefully tasted.
A search was made for sharp instruments :
my mother and I gave up our scissors.
On the 11th of December, the sound of a
drum, and the noise of the arrival of troops at
the Temple, gave us a great deal of uneasiness.
My father came down with my brother after
breakfast. At eleven o'clock, Chambon (5)
(4) This will seem a strange expression, but it is the
very word used by the Duchess, and I know not how
I could better express the hostile and prying visits of
these men.
(5) A physician of little note, raised to the infamous
dignity of mayor of Paris, by the almost incredible
accident of having opponents baser and more obscure
than himself. He was an Orleanist, and partook the
character of his party, for he was as weak as he was
wicked. He was despised by all parties, and chiefly

190 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
and Chaumette (6), the mayor and attorney-
general of the Commune, and Colombeau(7),
by his own, which knew him best. His life ended as
it began, in obscurity. I have not been able to dis
cover when he died.
He must not be confounded with Chambon, the
conventionalist, who voted for the death of the King,
but with an appeal to the people ; and who was killed
in a farm at Lubersac, in 1793, in the overthrow of
the Orleanist party, to which he also belonged.
(6) Attorney of the Commune of Paris, son of a shoe
maker ; he was successively a cabin-boy, a postillion,
a stationer's clerk, and an attorney. He was for a
long while the idol of the mob, and the terror and
scourge of Paris; but at last even Robespierre felt
alarmed at his audacious profaneness and cruelty, and
he enveloped him in the proscription of the Hebertists.
There is a striking description of the meanness and
cowardice of this wretch, when he met in prison
crowds that he had himself, sent thither. He was
guillotined on the 13th April, 1794; and the only
truth he ever, perhaps, spoke, were his last words,.
"That those who had sent him there deserved to
" follow him."
(7) I know nothing of ColombeaU, but that he was
one of the municipality of the 1 Oth of August. This
office, and the anecdote in the text, sufficiently cha
racterize him.

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 191
the secretary, arrived. They announced to
him a decree of the Convention, that he should
be brought to its bar to be examined. They
obliged him to send my brother to his mother's
apartment ; but, not having the decree of
the Convention, they kept my father waiting
two hours. He did not go till about one
o'clock, when he went in the mayor's car
riage with Chaumette and Colombeau. The
carriage was escorted by municipal officers
on foot. My father observing, as they went
along, that Colombeau saluted a great num
ber of persons, asked him if they were all
friends of his ; Colombeau answered, "They
" are brave citizens of the 10th of August,
" whom I never see but with the greatest
"pleasure." I shall not say any thing of the conduct
of my father at the bar of the Conven
tion. All the world knows it: his firm
ness, his mildness, his goodness, his courage,
in the midst of an assembly of murderers

192 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
thirsting for his blood, can never be forgotten,
and must be admired by the latest posterity.
The King returned at six o'clock to the
tower of the Temple, under the same escort.
It is impossible to describe the anxiety which
we had suffered in his absence. My mother
had used every endeavour with the officers
who guarded her, to discover what was
passing; it was the first time she had con
descended to question them. These men
would tell her nothing. It was only on
my father's arrival that she was informed.
When he returned, she asked to see him
instantly. She made the same request even
to Chambon, but received no answer. My
brother passed the night with her; and,
as he had no bed, she gave him hers, and
sat up all night in such deep affliction,
that we were afraid to leave her ; but she
obliged my aunt and me to go to bed.
Next day, she again asked to see my
father, and to read the newspapers, that she

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 193
might learn the course of the trial. She en
treated, that at least, if she was to be denied
this indulgence, his children might see him.
This request was referred to the Commune.
The newspapers were refused ; but my bro
ther and I were allowed to see my father on
condition of being entirely separated from my
mother. When this was conveyed to my
father, he said that great as his happiness
was in seeing his children, the important
business which then occupied him would not
allow of his attending altogether to his son,
and that his daughter could not quit her
mother. My brother's bed was in conse
quence removed into my mother's room.
The Convention came to see my father.
He asked for counsel (8), ink, paper, and
(8) It ought never to be forgotten that Louis had
the noble confidence to select for his counsel, against
a charge of violating the constitution, one of the chief
framers of that constitution, the lawyer Target; and
that this wretched preacher of law and liberty, and
liberality, had the baseness to decline this honourable
and, to a man of professional feeling, indispensable
duty.

194 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
razors to shave. All these requests were
granted. Messrs. Malesherbes (9), Tron-
chet(l) and Deseze, who were assigned as
his counsel, came to see him. He was often
obliged, in order to converse with them
without being overheard, to retire into the
turret. He went no more into the garden, nor did
we (2). He knew nothing of us, nor we of
him, but through the municipal officers. I
had something the matter with my foot ; and
my father, having heard of it, was, with his
usual tenderness, very uneasy about me, and
(9) M. de Malesherbes was illustrious by his life,
and even, if possible, more so by his death, which
was as heroic as that of Sir Thomas More. He was
the relation of M. de Chateaubriand, now minister
of foreign affairs.
(1) Tronchet a little impaired the character he had
obtained by his accepting the defence of the King,
by taking an office under the Usurper. He died in
March, 1810.
(2) The phrase is " ainsi que nous ;" and though,
strictly, it might be rendered as we did, yet it seems as
if it really meant nor did we.

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 195
made constant inquiries. Our family was ¦
so fortunate as to find, amongst the members
of the Commune, some men whose com-j
passion alleviated our sufferings. They as
sured my mother that my father would not!
be put to death, and that his case would!
be referred to the primary assemblies, who;
would undoubtedly save him.
Alas ! they deceived themselves ; or,
through pity, intended to deceive my mother.
On the 26th December, St. Stephen's (3) day,
my father made his will, because he expected
to be assassinated that day on his way to the
bar of the Convention. He went thither,
nevertheless, with his usual calmness, and
left to M. Deseze (4) the care of his defence.
(3) Some expectation seems to have been entertained
that the feast of the proto-martyr was to be further
stained by the martyrdom of the eldest son of the
church : a title of which the Kings of France were
proud. (4) M Deseze has been consistent in the course of
o 2

196 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
He left the Temple at eleven o'clock, and
returned at three. Henceforward he saw
his counsel every day.
[1793.]— At last, on the 18th January, the
day on which the sentence was pronounced,
the municipal officers entered the King's
room at eleven o'clock, saying, that they had
now orders never to lose sight of him for a
moment. He asked if his fate was decided.
They answered, No.
Next morning M. Malesherbes came to
acquaint him that the sentence had been
pronounced ; " but, Sire," he added, " these
" wretches are not yet masters, and every
*' honest man will endeavour to save your
" Majesty, or to die at your feet." " M. de
" Malesherbes," said the King, " such pro-
" ceedings would involve a great many per-
" sons, and would excite a civil war in Paris.

integrity and honour. He is now first president of
the high court of appeals, in France.

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 197
" — / had rather die (5). — You will there-
" fore, I entreat of you, command them from
" me to make no effort to save me — the King
" of France never dies !"
After this conference he was never allowed
to see his counsel again. He addressed a
note to the municipal officers, to ask to see
them, and to complain of the hardship of
being kept under perpetual inspection. No
attention was paid to his representations.
On Sunday, the 20th January, Garat (6),
the minister of justice, and the other members
of the executive power, came to announce
to him the sentence for his execution next

(5) In all the course of the Revolution the King
never could be persuaded to risk the shedding of blood ;
this was attributed to pusillanimity : we now see that
it was a feeling compatible with the highest personal
courage. (6) Garat, an editor of a newspaper, and minister
oi justice ! — the friend of Pache and Hebert, the tool
and almost the victim of Robespierre. He survived,

198 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
day. My father heard it with fortitude and
piety : he demanded a respite of three days,
to know what the fate of his family was lo
be, and to have a catholic confessor. The
respite was refused. Garat assured him that
there was no charge against his family, and
that it would be sent out of France. The
Abbe Edge worth (7) deFirmont was the priest-
he wished for. He gave his address, and Garat,
brought him- The King dined as usual,
however, and became one of the vilest adulators of
Buonaparte, who made this jacobin a count of the
empire; this sansculotte, a knight of the legion of
honour; this man of the 10th of August, a legislator;
in which character he showed his gratitude, by voting,
in March, 1814, for deposing Napoleon the First;
and, in 1815, he was again for deposing him, but
it was only to put in his place Napoleon the Second.
I know not what is become of him.
(7) Henry Essex Edgeworth was born at Edge-
worth's-town, in Ireland, of which his father was
vicar; but he resigned this preferment on account
pf religious scruples, and removed with his family into
France, where they embraced the Roman CathpUc

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 199
which surprised the municipal officers, who
expected that he would endeavour to commit
suicide. About seven o'clock in the evening we
learned the sentence by the newsmen, who
came crying it under our windows : a decree
of the Convention permitted us to see the
King. We ran to his apartment, and found
him much altered ; he wept for us, and not
for fear of death ; he related his trial to my
mother, apologizing for the wretches who had
condemned him ; he told her, that it was pro
posed to attempt to save him by having re
course to the primary assemblies, but that he
would not consent, lest it should excite con
fusion in the country. He then gave my bro-
faith. The name of Firmont was derived from Fir-
mount, a family estate in the county of Longford
They were near relations of Mr. Edgeworth, who,
as well as his daughter, are so well known in the
literary world.

200 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
ther some religious advice, and desired, him
above all, to forgive those who caused his
death ; and he gave him his blessing, as well
as to me.
My mother was very desirous that the
whole -family should pass the night with my
father ; but he opposed this, observing to her
how much he needed some hours of repose
and quiet. She asked at least to be allowed
to see him next morning, to which he con
sented. But, when we were gone, he re
quested that we might not be permitted to
return, as our presence afflicted him too
much. He then remained with his confessor
till midnight, when he went to bed.
He slept till he was awakened by the drums
at five o'clock. At six, the Abbe Edgeworth
said mass, and administered the holy sacra
ment to my father. At nine o'clock he left
the Temple. On the stairs, he delivered his
will to a municipal officer, and a sum of

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 201
money, which M. de Malesherbes had brought
him, and which he desired should be returned
to him ; but the officers shared it amongst
themselves. He met one of the turnkeys (8),
whom he had reprimanded rather sharply the
day before : he now said to him, " Mathieu,
" I am sorry for having offended you." On
his way to the scaffold, he read the prayers
for those at the point of death.
On the scaffold he wished to have spoken
to the people ; but Santerre (9) prevented him ,
by ordering the drums to beat : what little he yj
(8) The atrocious Mathieu, before mentioned.
(9) A brewer in the Fauxbourg St. Antoinej the most
populous and turbulent part of Paris. His weight
in that quarter, and his violent character, advanced
him to the chief command of the National Guard of
Paris; a distinction which his natural ferocity jus
tified. Though he had no kind of military talents,
he had great pretensions, and actually marched at the
head of a considerable army, to effect the conquest of
La Vend6e, according to plans of his own devising.
He was beaten every where. One time he was missing,
and it was thought that he had been killed in the field
of battle ; a death so much too honourable for him,

202 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
was allowed to say was heard by very few.
He then undressed himself without assist
ance. His hands were tied, not with a rope,
but with his own handkerchief. At the in
stant of death, his confessor exclaimed, " Son
" of St. Louis, ascend to heaven (1) !"
He received the stroke (2) of death on
that the following derisory epitaph was circulated on
the occasion :
" Ci git le General Santerre,
" Qui n'eut de Mars que la biere."
In confirmation of the old proverb, he and Ro
bespierre soon disagreed, and the death of the latter
only saved the former, who afterwards lived quietly
in Paris, having contrived to remunerate himself for
his public services by obtaining^ a grant of the vast
space on which the Temple stood.
(1) This sublime exclamation was so much the im
pulse of the Abba's feelings at the moment, that he
uttered it (if at all) unconsciously. He did not re
collect having used that expression, but he owned that
he was nearly unconscious of all that passed at that
dreadful crisis. — See his Memoirs, by C. S. Edge-
worth, London, 1815.
(2) The reader will not fail to observe, that the name
of the fatal instrument which deprived her parents of
existence is never once mentioned by Madame.

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 203
Sunday, the 21st of January, 1793, at ten
minutes past ten o'clock in the forenoon.
Thus died Louis XVI., King of France, at
the age of thirty-nine years, five months, and
three days, of which he had reigned eighteen.
He had been five months and eight days in
prison. Such was the life of my father during his
rigorous captivity. In it were displayed
piety, greatness of mind, and goodness ; — <¦
mildness, fortitude, and patience, in bearing
the most infamous insults, the most malig
nant calumnies ; — Christian clemency, which
heartily forgave even his murderers ; — and the
love of God, his family, and his people, of
which he gave the most affecting proofs,
even with his last breath, and of which he
Went to receive the reward in the bosom of
his almighty and all-merciful Creator,
On the morning of this terrible day we
rose at six. The night before, my mother
had scarcely strength enough to put my

204 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
brother to bed. She threw herself, dressed
as she was, upon her own bed, where we
heard her shivering with cold and grief all
night long. At a quarter past six, the door
opened : we believed that we were sent for
to see the King ; but it was only the officers
looking for a prayer-book for the King's de
votions. We did not, however, abandon the
hope of seeing him, till the shouts of joy of
the infuriated populace told us that all was
over! In the afternoon, my mother asked to see
Clery, who had remained with the King till
his last moments (3), and who had probably
some message for her. We were anxious
that she should receive this shock of seeing
Clery, in hopes of its occasioning a burst
of grief, which might relieve her from that
(3) Clery was not permitted to accompany the King
beyond the Temple, so that this expression means till
his departure from the prison; unless, as is probable,
Madame had not, at the time she wrote this, known
the exact state of the fact.

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 205
state of silent and choking agony in which
we saw her.
In fact, Clery had been intrusted by my
father with delivering to my unhappy mother
her wedding-ring (4), with a message that "he
" never would have parted with it but with his
"life." He had also given him a parcel with the
hair of all his family, saying, that "it had been
" so dear to him, that he had carefully pre-
" served it till that moment." The officers re
ported that Clery was in a frightful state,
and in despair, at not being allowed to see
us. My mother made her request to the
Council General,through the commissioners of
the Commune; she also demanded mourning
for her family. Clery was kept for a month
longer in the Temple, and then released.
(4) This was, I presume, a ring given to the King
by the Queen, on their marriage. In the Moniteur
of the 25th of January, 1793, it is described as a gold
ring, with the following inscription engraved on the
inside: " M. A. A. A. 19 Aprille, 1770;" meaning, I
suppose, Marie Antoinette, Archiduchesse d'Autriche.
The marriage took place the 16th of May, 1770.

206 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
We had now a little more freedom; our
guards even believed that we were about
to be sent out of France ; but nothing could
calm my mother's agony. No hope could
touch her heart ; and life and death became
indifferent to her. She would sometimes look
upon us with an air of pity which made us
shudder. Fortunately (5) my own affliction
increased my illness to so serious a degree,
that it made a diversion in the mind of my
mother. My physician Brunier, and Lacase,
a surgeon, were sent for. They cured me
in the course of a month.
We were allowed to see the persons who
brought our mourning, but only in presence
of the municipal officers. My mother would
go no more to the garden, because (6) she
must have passed the door of the room my
father had inhabited, and that she could not
(5) What a touching expression of extreme grief!
(6) This was the woman whose contempt for, and
indifference to her husband, was for so long the fa
vourite calumny of the Revolutionists.

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 207
bear ; but, fearing lest want of air should
prove injurious to my brother and me, she
asked, about the end of February, tr> be per
mitted to walk upon the leads of the Tower,
which was granted.
It was discovered, in the room of the mu
nicipal officers, that the sealed parcel which
contained the seal, the ring, and some other
things of the King's, had been broken open,
and the things carried away. These men
were very uneasy about this, but at last they
believed that the things had been taken by
some thief, for the sake of the gold in which
the trinkets were set. But the person who
took them was no thief; he acted with the
best intentions, to save them for my mother,
who desired that the ring and seal should be
carefully preserved for her son. I know who
this worthy man (7) was ; but, alas ! he has
(7) Probably the municipal officer, Michonis, who
was afterwards put to death for his indulgence to the
Queen in the Conciergerie.

208 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
since been put to death, not, indeed, on this
account, but for another good action. I
cannot venture to name him ; hoping that,
before he perished, he may have been able
to convey these precious reliques to some
trusty hand.
When Dumouriez left France, we were
again more closely confined. A wall was
built between the tower and the garden.
A kind of blind was erected on the parapet
of the leads, and every hole stopped up with
the greatest care.
On the 25th of March, the chimney took
fire. It was that evening that Chaumette,
procureur (attorney) of the Commune, came,
for the first time, to reconnoitre my mother,
and to know whether she wanted any thing.
She asked nothing but a door of communica
tion with her sister's room : (The two terrible
nights which we passed with her, my aunt and
I were obliged to lie on mattrasses on the
floor.) The officers opposed this ; but Chau-

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 209
mette said, that, in the state of decline in
which my mother's health appeared to be,
this indulgence might be necessary, and that
he would speak of it to the general council
of the Commune. Next morning he returned,
at ten o'clock, with Pache (8) the mayor, and
that dreadful Santerre, the commander-in-
chief of fhe national guard. Chaumette told
my mother that he had mentioned her request
for the door to the council, but that it had
been rejected. She made no observation.
Pache asked her whether she had no com
plaint to make. She, without attending to
what he was saying, answered, " No," me
chanically. A short time after this, some officers hap-
(8) The son of the Mareschal de Castries' porter.
This nobleman had given him some education. He
was elected mayor on the 15th February, 1793. But,
though a furious Jacobin, Robespierre wished to get
rid of him, and he escaped the scaffold, which he de
served, only by Robespierre's fall. He has since lived
in obscurity.

210 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
pened to be on guard, whose compassion
alleviated in some degree our sorrows. We
latterly had attained a great facility in distin
guishing the sentiments of the people who
came to watch us ; the Queen particularly ;
who often prevented us from being the dupes
of false pretences of pity.
There was also another man who interested
himself in our behalf. I know all who felt
for us ; I dare not name them for fear, in
the present state of things, of endangering
them, but the recollection of their kindnesses
is engraved on my heart. I perhaps may
never be able to show my gratitude, but
God will reward their charity, and if I should
be ever able to name them, they will be
revered and loved by every virtuous and feel
ing heart (9).
(9) This passage was not in the original edition, and it
is to be regretted, that in the latter publication those
interesting names are not stated. Madame had given
a pledge which ought to have been redeemed.

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 211
But persecutions of all sorts increased.
Tison was prohibited from seeing his daugh
ter ; this vexed him. One evening, seeing a
stranger admitted, who brought some clothes
to Madame Elizabeth, he flew into a rage
that this man should be admitted while his
relations were excluded. He let fall some ex
pressions which were reported to Pache, who
happened to be down stairs, and who imme
diately determined to examine Tison. He
asked him what had dissatisfied him. He re
plied, " The not seeing my daughter ; and
" the seeing certain other persons here, who
" do not conduct themselves as they ought"
(meaning that some of the municipal officers
used to speak low to my mother and aunt).
He was asked their names : he stated them,
and added, that we had correspondences
without. — When asked for his proofs, he re
plied, " That one evening, at supper, the
" Queen, in pulling out her pocket-handker-
" chief, had dropped a pencil ; and that one
p 2

212 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
" day he had found some wafers and a pen in
" a box in Madame Elizabeth's room." After
this deposition, which he signed, his wife was
examined. She repeated the same story ; ac
cused several of the officers ; asserted that
we had had communication with the King
during his trial ; and denounced Brunier,
the physician, who attended me for my
sore foot, as having brought us intelligence.
She also, induced by her husband, signed all
this ; but she bitterly repented it, as we shall
see hereafter. This denunciation was made
on the 19th of April. She saw her daughter
next day.
On the 20th, at half past ten o'clock, my
mother and I had just gone to bed, when He
bert (1) arrived, with several municipals. We
(1) The editor of the most infamous of the revolu
tionary newspapers, the Journal du Pere Duchesne. It
was by the express orders of this monster that Madame
de Lamballe was massacred. After having sent num-.
bers of his own associates to the scaffold, he was, at

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 213
got up hastily; and these men read us a de
cree of the Commune, which directed that we
should be searched (2) without reserve ; this
decree was accurately obeyed, even to search
ing our beds. My poor brother was asleep :
they tore him from his bed, under pretence
of searching it. My mother took him up
shivering with cold. All they found were a
shopkeeper's card which my mother had hap
pened to keep; a stick of sealing-wax from
my aunt ; and, from me (3), a heart dedicated
to our Saviour, and a prayer for the welfare
of France. This search lasted till four o'clock
last, sent thither himself, on the 21st of March, 1794.
He had married a nun, who was guillotined a few days
after him.
(2) " De les fouiller a discretion.1' This phrase
is, thank Heaven ! untranslatable into our language :
none but the monsters of the French age of liberality
and reason could have thought afouiller a discretion
des femmes.
(3) " Un sacre cceur de Jesus." Religious tokens
of this kind are hung round the necks of children in
Roman-Catholic countries.

214 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
in the morning. They made a formal inven
tory of all they found, which they obliged my
mother and aunt to sign, by threatening
that, if they did not do so, they should be
separated from my brother and me. They
were exasperated at finding only such trifles.
Three days after they came again, and then
sent for my aunt alone.
They examined her on the subject of a hat
which they had found in her room. They
asked her where she got it, how long she had
had it, and why she kept it. She answered,
that it had belonged to my father, that he had
worn it during the first days of his residence
in the Temple, and that she had asked it of
him as a keepsake. The municipal officers
replied, that this hat was a suspicious circum
stance ; and, although she insisted on keep
ing it, they took it from her, obliging her to
sign her answer.
My mother went every day on the leads,
for the sake of giving us a little air. My

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 215
brother had for some days complained of a
stitch in his side ; but on the 9th of May, at
seven in the evening, he was seized with a
violent fever, accompanied with head-ache,
and still the pain in his side. During the first
days he would not lie in bed, for he complained
that he was suffocating. My mother was
alarmed, and asked the officers to send for a
physician. They assured her that the illness
was nothing, and that her maternal anxiety
had alarmed her unnecessarily: they, how
ever, mentioned it to the council, and asked,
in my mother's name, for our physician Bru
nier. The council laughed at my brother's
illness, because Hebert reported that he had
seen him at five o'clock, and that he had then
no fever. They therefore positively refused
the attendance of Brunier; whom it will be
recollected Tison' had lately denounced.
The fever, however, grew worse and worse :
my aunt had the goodness to take my .place in
my mother's room, in order that I might not be

216 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
exposed to the infectious air of the disease,
and that she might assist her sister in attend
ing on the poor sick boy. She therefore took
my bed, and I slept in her room.
The fever lasted several days, and was
always most violent towards evening. My
mother continued every day to request the
attendance of a physician, but could not ob
tain it. At last, on Sunday morning, Thierry
came ; he was physician of the prisons, and
appointed by the Commune to attend my
brother. As he came in the morning, he
did not perceive much fever ; but my mother
having requested him to call again in the
afternoon, he found it violent, and he unde
ceived the municipal officers as to their opi
nion that my mother was alarmed at a trifle.
He said, on the contrary, that it was more
serious than she believed. He had, at the
same time, the civility to call upon Brunier,
to consult with him on the case, and as to the
medicines which it might be proper to give

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 217
him, because Brunier was acquainted with
my brother's constitution, having attended us
from our infancy. He gave him some physic,
which did him good ; on Wednesday he made
him take more, and that night I returned
to sleep in my mother's room, who was
greatly alarmed about the effect of this me
dicine, because, the last time he had taken
any, he had had dreadful convulsions. She
feared that he might have them again. She
never closed her eyes all night : my brother,
however, took his physic quietly, and it
did him good, and occasioned no inconve
nience. Some days after, he took a second medicine,
which also seemed to agree with him, except
that he felt incommoded with heat. He had
fits of fever, but only now and then, and oc
casionally the pain in the side. But his health
began to decline, and was never re-esta
blished : want of air and exercise did him
great mischief, as well as the kind of life
which this poor child led ; who, at eight years

218 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
old, passed his days amidst the tears and
terrors of his friends, and in constant anxiety
and agony.
For some time past I slept in my mother's
room, for fear she or my brother should be
ill in the night; but during his illness my
aunt had taken my place.
On the 31st of May, we heard the drum
beat to arms, and the tocsin ring, without being
able to learn what the noise was about (4).
We were forbidden to go on the leads to take
the air, — a prohibition which was always re
newed when there was any commotion in Paris.
In the beginning of June, Chaumette and
Hebert came one evening about six o'clock,
and inquired once more whether my mother
wanted any thing, or had any thing to com
plain of. She answered No, and took no
furthjer notice of them. But my aunt asked
Hebert for the hat (5) which has been already
(4) This was the conflict of the Jacobins with the
Girondins, whiclv ended in the overthrow of the latter
party, and the execution of its principal members.
(5) See page 214.

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 219
spoken of, and which he had taken away
from her. He replied, the council did not
think proper to restore it. Then my aunt,
seeing that Chaumette did not go away, and
knowing how extremely my mother suffered
(though she gave no sign of it) from his pre
sence, asked him why he came, and for
what he stayed ? Chaumette answered, that
being on a visit to the prisons, and all prisons
being equal, he had come to the Temple.
My aunt replied No, for that some persons
were justly, and others unjustly, kept in
prison. They were both intoxicated.
My brother was taken ill in the night, but
Thierry having returned with a surgeon named
Soupe, and another called Julapes, this indis
position had no bad consequences.
About this time, Madame Tison went mad.
She was uneasy about my brother's illness,
and had been long tormented with remorse :
she got into a state of languor, and would
not take the air. One day she began to talk

220 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
aloud to herself; alas! that made me laugh,
and my poor mother and aunt looked at me
with an air of satisfaction, as if they ob
served with pleasure this short moment of
gaiety. But the poor woman's derangement soon
became serious : she raved of her crimes, of
her denunciations, of prisons, scaffolds, the
Queen, the royal family, and all our misfor
tunes. Conscious of her crimes, she thought
herself unworthy to approach us ; and she be
lieved that the persons against whom she had
informed(6) had perished. Every morning she
was in anxious hope of seeing the municipal
officers whom she had denounced ; and, not
seeing them, she went to bed every night in
a deeper melancholy. Her dreams must have
been dreadful, for she screamed in her sleep
so loud, that we heard her.
The municipal officers permitted her to see
(6) See page 212.

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 9,9,1
her daughter, of whom she was very fond.
One day, that the porter, who was not ap
prised of this permission, had refused to let
the daughter come into the prison, the officers,
seeing the desperate grief of the mother, sent
for the girl at ten o'clock at night. This
untimely visit alarmed her still more ; it was
with great difficulty they persuaded her to go
down stairs, and on the way she repeated
to her husband, " We are going to prison."
When she saw her daughter, she did not
know her ; the fancy of being arrested had
seized her mind. She was coming back
again with one of the officers, but in the
middle of the stairs she suddenly stopped, and
would neither go backwards nor forwards.
The officer, alarmed, was obliged to call for
assistance to remove her up stairs ; but nothing
could induce her to go to bed, and during
the whole night she disturbed us by raving
and talking incessantly.
The next morning the physician pronounced

PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
her quite mad. She was for ever at my
mother's feet, asking her pardon ; and no
thing, indeed, could exceed the compassion
which both she and my aunt showed to
this poor creature, of whose previous con
duct they had had too much reason to com
plain. They watched and attended her while
she remained in this state in the Temple.;
and they endeavoured to pacify her with the
warmest assurances of their forgiveness. The
next day, she was removed from the tower to
the palace ; but her disorder increasing every
hour, she was at last sent to the Hotel Dieu(7),
where a woman belonging to the police was
placed to watch her, and to gather whatever
she might, in her phrensy, say concerning
the Royal Family.
On the 3d of July, they read to us a
decree of the Convention, that my brother
should be separated from us, and placed in
the most secure apartment of the tower. As
(7) The general hospital of Paris.

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 223
soon as he heard this sentence pronounced,
he threw himself into the arms of my mother,
and entreated, with violent cries, not to be
separated from her. My mother was striken
to the earth by this cruel order ; she would not
part with her son, and she actually defended,
against the efforts of the officers, the bed in
which she had placed him. But these men
would have him, and threatened to call up
the guard, and use violence. My mother
exclaimed, that they had better kill her than
tear her child from her. An hour was spent
in resistance on her part, in threats and in
sults from the officers, and in prayers and
tears on the part of all of us.
At last they threatened even the lives of
both him and me, and my mother's maternal
tenderness at length forced her to this sa
crifice. My aunt and I dressed the child,
for my poor mother had no longer strength
for any thing. Nevertheless, when he was
dressed, she took him and delivered him

224 . PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
herself into the hands of the officers, bathing
him with her tears, foreseeing that she was
never to see him again. The poor little
fellow embraced us all tenderly, and was
carried off in a flood of tears. My mother
charged the officers to ask the council-ge
neral for permission to see her son, were it
only at meals. They engaged to do so. She
was overwhelmed with the sorrow of parting
with him, but her horror was extreme when
she heard that one Simon (8) (a shoemaker by
trade, whom she had seen as a municipal
officer in the Temple), was the person to
whom her unhappy child was confided. She
asked continually to be allowed to see him,
but in vain. He, on his side, cried for two
(8) Simon, a shoemaker, was appointed guardian of
the Dauphin. His chief duty was to debilitate his
body and impair his understanding ; and he, as we
shall see in the text, succeeded but too well in the
infernal task. He was involved in Robespierre's
overthrow, and was guillotined the day after him,
July 29th, 1794.

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 225
whole days, and begged without intermission
to be permitted to see us. ^c
The officers now no longer remained in
my mother's apartment ; but we were locked
up together both night and day ; it was in
deed an alleviation of our misfortune to be
delivered from such society. The guards
now came only three times a day, to bring
our meals, and to examine the bolts and
bars of our windows.
We had now no one to attend us, and
were all the better for it. My aunt and I
made the beds, and waited on my mother.
We often went up to the tower, because my
brother went there too from the other side :
the only pleasure my mothe renjoyed was
seeing him through a chink as he passed at
a distance. She would watch at this chink
for hours together, to see the child as he
passed. (9) It was her only hope, her only
(9) Pathetic as the whole of these Memoirs are, we
cannot refrain from expressing the peculiar feeling
which these passages excite. Q

226 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
thought. She now and then heard of him,
either from the officers, or from Tison, who
sometimes saw Simon. Tison endeavoured to
make compensation for his past conduct;
and he behaved better, and gave us some
information. As to Simon, he ill-treated my brother
beyond all belief, and the more so because
the poor boy cried at being separated from
us : at last he had overcome him to such a
point of dread, that he did not dare to weep.
My aunt, who knew all this, entreated Tison,
and those who, through compassion, brought
us reports of the state of my brother, to
conceal these horrors from my mother ; who,
however, either knew or suspected them but
too well.
One day, a report was spread that my
brother had been seen on the Boulevard. The
guard, angry at not seeing him, reported that
he was no longer in the Temple, and even we,
alas! for amomentAqperfthatthis mightbetrue.
But all were soon undeceived : the Conven-

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 227
tion directed him to be taken into the garden,
that he might be seen. On this occasion, my
brother, whose faculties they had not yet had
time to alienate, complained of being sepa
rated from his mother, and asked by what law
he was so treated ; but they soon obliged him
to hold his tongue. When the members of
the Convention, who had been sent to ascer
tain the presence of my brother, had come up
to my mother, she made a formal complaint
against the cruelty of taking away her child.
They answered, that they thought it a neces
sary precaution.
A new Procureur General had been lately
appointed : he also came to visit us. Not
withstanding all we had been obliged to
see and to suffer during our misfortunes, the
manners of this man astonished us. From
the moment he entered our room till his
departure, he did nothing but swear.
On the 2d of August, at two o'clock in the
morning, they awoke us, to read to my mo-
q2

228 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
ther the decree of the Convention, which, on
the requisition of the procureur of the Com
mune, ordered her removal to the Concier
gerie (1), preparatory to her trial.
She heard this decree read without any
visible emotion, and without speaking a single
word to them. But my aunt and I imme
diately required to be allowed to accompany
my mother : but even this favour was refused
to us. During the whole time that my mo
ther was employed in making a bundle of
the clothes which she was to take with her,
these officers never quitted her. She was
even obliged to dress herself before them.
They asked for her pockets : she gave them.
They searched them, and took away every
thing they contained, though there was no-
(1) The Conciergerie was originally, as the name im
ports, the porters' lodge of the ancient palace of justice,
and, as was the case with our Marshdlsea, became, in
process of time, a prison, from the habit of confining
there persons who had committed petty offences about
the court.

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 229
thing of any importance. They sent them
in a parcel to the Revolutionary Tribunal (2),
and told the Queen this parcel would be
opened in her presence, at the tribunal.
They left her only a pocket-handkerchief
and a smelling-bottle, lest she should feel ill.
She was now hurried away, after having em
braced me, and charging me to keep up my
spirits and courage, to take a tender care of

(2) It maynot be uninstructivetogive a few details re
lative to the tribunal that murdered the Queen. It con
sisted of four judges — Herman, Foucaut, Verteuil, and
Lanne — all of whom, except Verteuil (an apostate
priest), perished on the scaffold within a year- Fouquier-
Tinvelle, of bloody memory, was her accuser. This
man grew frightened at the success of his prosecutions,
and at the numbers he sent to death : he wished to
draw back, but it was too late. He was often heard
to say " My turn will come." It did come, and he
was executed on the 6th of May, 1795. The jury
consisted of a wig-maker, a printer, a tailor, a sur
geon, an ex-deputy of the Convention, a crier, a car
penter, a house-painter, &c. ; and several of these are
known to have perished on the scaffold within a few
months; the fate of the rest is unknown.

230 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
my aunt, and to obey her as a second mother :
she repeated to me the instructions I had
already received from my father: she then
threw herself into the arms of my aunt, and
recommended her children to her care. The
thought of seeing my mother for the last time
was so terrifying, that I was incapable of
making any answer. At last, my aunt having
said a few words to the Queen, in a whisper,
she departed without daring to cast an
other look on me, lest she should lose her
firmness. She was obliged to stop again at the foot
of the tower, because the officers insisted on
making a proces-verbal of the delivery of her
person. In going out, she struck her forehead
against the wicket, not having stooped (3)
low enough. They asked her whether she
(3) Mathieu, the gaoler, used to say, " I make Ma
dame Veto (the queen), and her sister and daughter,
proud as they are, salute me ; for the door is so low
they cannot pass without curtsying."

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 231
had not hurt herself: she replied, No; nothing
can hurt me now. She got into a carriage with
one municipal officer and two gendarmes.
On her arrival at the Conciergerie, they
put her into the filthiest, dampest, and most
unwholesome room of the whole prison. A
police soldier watched her day and night,
and never lost sight of her (4). My aunt and
I were inconsolable, and spent many days
and many nights in tears, though they had
assured my aunt, when her sister was re
moved, that no harm should happen to her.
The company of my aunt, whom I loved
so tenderly, was a great consolation to me ;
but, alas ! all that I loved was perishing
around me, and I was soon to lose her also.
The day after the Queen's removal, my aunt
entreated with great earnestness, in her own
name and mine, to be allowed to join my mo
ther ; but she could not obtain this indulgence,
(4) The readerwill not fail to observe all the horrible
consequences which these words imply.

232 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
nor even any account of her. As she knew that
my mother, who had never drunk any thing but
water, could not drink that of the Seine, as it
did not agree with her, she begged the officers
to take her some of that of Ville D'Avray (5),
which came every day to the Temple. They
promised to do so, and made an order ac
cordingly ; but one of their colleagues took
it into his head to oppose this arrangement,
and the order was never carried into effect.
A few days after, my mother, in order to
obtain some tidings of us, endeavoured to
send to the Temple for some things which
were useful to her ; and, amongst others, her
knitting-box, because she had undertaken to
knit a pair of stockings for my brother. We
sent it to her, with all the silk and worsted
we could find, as we knew how fond she was
of this kind of oecupation. In happier times
she was never without work, except when she
(5) An agreeable little village about half-way be
tween St. Cloud and Versailles.

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 233
was obliged to be in public; and, accord
ingly, she had worked an immense quantity
of furniture, and even a carpet, and an in
finite quantity of all kinds of tapestry. We
collected, therefore, every thing we could for
her, but all our care was thrown away ; and no
thing that we sent was delivered to my mother.
The alleged reason was, an apprehension that
she should endeavour to shorten her life, by
means of the knitting-needles (6).
For some time, we heard of my brother
from the municipal officers. That indulgence,
however, did not last ; but we heard him every
day singing the Carmagnole, Marseilles songs,
and such trash, with Simon. Simon dressed
him in a red cap, and a carmagnole (7). He
(6) In the Conciergerie the Queen found a bit of old
tapestry which she unravelled, and, by the aid of two
pieces of wood, she knitted the threads into garters.
(7) I do not know what article of dress they called by
this name. I presume it was a kind of jacket, such as
the lower orders in France wear, and which was pro
bably therefore honoured with the name of carmag
nole.

234 . PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
made him sing at the windows, that the guard
might hear him ; and he taught him themost
horrid oaths and execrations against God, his
own family, and the aristocrats. My mother
fortunately was ignorant of these horrors.
Oh, my God ! what pain it would have given
her! She was gone before the child had
learned this infamous lesson. It was an
infliction which the mercy of Heaven was
pleased to spare her.
Before she had left the Temple, they
came to ask her for the Dauphin's clothes.
On this occasion, she expressed her wish
that the son of Louis the Sixteenth should
not cease to wear mourning; but the first
thing Simon did was to take away his black
coat. Towards the end of August, the change of
life, and the ill usage with which he was
overwhelmed, made him sick. Simon forced
him to eat to excess, and to drink large quan
tities of wine, which he detested. This diet

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 235
soon brought on a fever ; for which they
gave him physic, which disagreed with him,
and his constitution became altogether de
ranged. He grew extremely fat, without
increasing in height or strength. Simon,
however, still made him take the air on the
leads of the tower.
In the beginning of September, I had an
indisposition caused solely by my anxiety
about my mother: I never heard a drum
that I did not expect another 2d of Sep
tember : every day I went upon the leads with
my aunt. The officers visited us closely
thrice a day, but their severity did not pre
vent our receiving now and then some hints
of what was passing abroad, and particularly
about my mother, which was our greatest
concern. In spite of all the efforts and vigilance of
these cruel men, we always found some com
passionate hearts, who felt for us. We learned
that the Queen was accused of having had a

236 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
correspondence beyond the walls of the pri
son j we therefore hastened to get rid of
our writings, our pencils, and whatever we
had still preserved, fearing that we might be
undressed and searched before Simon's wife,
and that finding these things on us might
endanger my mother; for we had con
trived, notwithstanding the most minute
searches which were made in our chambers,
and amongst all the furniture, to conceal ink,
paper, and pens. We learnt too that my
mother might have escaped (8) from the Con
ciergerie. The wife of the keeper (9) was not
insensible to her misfortunes, and paid her
every possible attention.

(8) This seems veiy doubtful ; there were, I believe,
more than one plot for this purpose, but they all seem
but little likely to have succeeded.
(9) The keeper's name was Richard. He and his
wife both showed feelings of humanity, which, though
in other times they would not have attracted much
notice, were, in the then state of France, considered
as very extraordinary.

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 237
The officers came again for linen for my
mother, but they would not give us any
account of her state of health. They even
took away from us some pieces of tapestry
which my mother had begun, and on which
we were working, under pretence that these
works might contain mysterious characters,
and a secret mode of writing.
On the 21st of September, at one in the
morning, Hebert arrived' with several officers,
to execute an order of the Commune, that
we should be confined more strictly than
heretofore; that we should have but one
room ; that Tison, who did the coarse house
hold work, should be put in prison in the
turret; that we should have nothing but
what was strictly necessary ; that there should
be a kind of slide made in the door of our
room, by which our victuals were to be con
veyed to us ; and finally that, except to bring
us water and firewood, no person should be
allowed to enter the room.

PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
The slide in the door was not made, and
the officers still continued to come three times
a day, and examine very carefully all the
bars and bolts, and every kind of furniture.
We were obliged to make our own beds, and
sweep the room : this was a long work at
first, from our awkwardness at it, but we
were obliged to do it, for we had at last
absolutely no one to assist us. Hebert told
my aunt that equality was the first law of the
French republic; and, other prisoners not
being allowed attendants, we could no longer
have Tison. In order to treat us with all
possible severity, they deprived us of even
the most trifling accommodations ; an armed
chair, for instance, in which my aunt used to
sit, and several other little matters of the
same kind. Nay, things of strict necessity
were denied us.
When our meals came, the doors were
suddenly clapped to, that we might not even
see the persons who brought them. We no

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 239
longer heard any news, except by the hawkers,
whose cries now and then reached us, but, in
spite of all our attention, indistinctly. We
were forbidden to go on the leads, and were
deprived of our large sheets, lest, notwith
standing the gratings, we should escape from
the windows. This was the pretext alleged ;
but the real cause of the change was a desire
to substitute coarse and dirty sheets.
I believe it was about this time that the
Queen's trial began. I have learnt, since her
death, that there was a plan for effecting her
escape from the Conciergerie, which unhap
pily failed. I have been assured that the
gendarmes who guarded her, and the wife of
the gaoler, had been gained over ; that she
had seen several well-affected persons in the
prison, and, amongst others, a clergyman, who
had administered the sacrament to her, which
she had received with the utmost devotion.
The opportunity of escaping failed, once,
because, instead of speaking to the second

240 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
sentinel, as she had been desired to do, she
addressed theirs/. Another time she had
already got out of her dungeon, and had
passed one of the corridors, when a gen
darmes obliged her to turn back, and the
whole scheme failed. These attempts will
not surprise us if we recollect that all honest
men took an interest in the Queen's fate, and
that (with the exception of the vile and
ferocious wretches, who were, alas! too nu
merous) every one who was permitted to speak
to her, see her, or approach her, were touched
with pity and respect, so well did her affability
temper the dignity of her manners. We knew
none of those details while they were passing.
We had only heard that a Chevalier de St.
Louis had given her a pink with a note con
cealed in it, but, as we were confined closer
than ever, we could not learn the result (1).
We were every day visited and searched
(1) M. Hue gives the detail of this affair. The Che
valier deRougeville managed to get invited to dinner at

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 241
by the municipal officers. At four o'clock
in the morning of the 4th of September,
they came to make a complete search, and
to carry off every article of plate and china.
They took the little that was left ; and, as
some articles were wanting, they insulted us
with an accusation of having stolen them !
¦ — but it was their own colleagues who had
secretly taken the articles. They found, be
hind a chest of drawers of my aunt's, a rouleau
of Louis d'ors, which they immediately seized
with extraordinary eagerness, and questioned
the house of Michonis, a municipal officer, one of
the inspectors of prisons in Paris, and there contrived
very adroitly to obtain leave (to gratify his curiosity,
as he pretended) to see the Queen. He wore a nose
gay, which he pretended a lady had given him : in
this was the pink, which contained a note with these
words, " I have men and money at your disposal."
When he was admitted to the Queen, he offered her
the pink. She took it, and found the note ; but, as
she was endeavouring to trace an answer with the
point of a pin, the guard surprised her, and all was dis
covered. M. de Rougeville escaped, but Michonis
was beheaded.

242 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
her minutely as to whence it came* how long
she had it, and for what use she had kept it.
She replied, " That it had been given her by
" the Princess de Lamballe after the 10th of
" August ; and that she had preserved it ever
" since." They then asked her who had given
it to Madame de Lamballe. She answered*
that she did not know. In fact, Madame de
Lamballe's waiting-women had found means
to convey this money to her in the Temple ;
and she had given it to my parents. They
also examined me, and asked me my name-,
as if they had not known it ; and made me
sign an account of the transaction.
At noon on the 8th of October, while we
were employed in dressing ourselves, and ar
ranging our bed-room, Pache, Chaumette, and
David (2), members of the Convention, with
(2) David, a painter, and one of the regicides. When
Robespierre was attacked the day before his final over
throw, David addressed him in the enthusiasm of their
bloody friendship—" If you are obliged to drink hem-

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 243
several officers of the municipality, arrived.
My aunt, who was not quite dressed, refused
to open the door till she was. Pache; ad
dressing me, begged me to walk down stairs.
My aunt would have followed, but they
stopped her. She asked whether I should
be permitted to come up again ; Chaumette
assured her that I should. " You may trust,"
said he, " the word of an honest republican :
"she shall return."
I embraced my aunt, who was greatly af
fected, and went down greatly embarrassed
" lock, I will drink it with you!'' Next day, however
his appetite for hemlock was gone, and he very pru
dently took care to let his Socrates perish without him.
It is said that he saved his life by asking a respite, that
he might finish a picture. This is very likely; a false
sensibility, and a pretence to a taste for the arts, gar
nished all the solid atrocities of the Revolution. David
was said to have improved his knowledge of the ana
tomy of the human figure, by the opportunities which
the massacres afforded him. Buonaparte, of course,
highly favoured him, and made him a knight of the
legion of honour.
r2

244 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
at finding myself for the first time in my life
alone with men. I did not know what they
wanted with me, but I recommended myself
to the protection of God. On the stairs,
Chaumette affected to offer me certain civili
ties : I made him no answer. I found my
self in my brother's room, whom I em
braced tenderly ; but we were soon torn
asunder, and I was obliged to go into an
other room. Chaumette desired me to sit
down, which I did. He sat down opposite
to me, while a municipal officer took out his
pen. Chaumette asked me my name, but
Hebert continued the interrogatory.
Tell me the truth, he said : it is not in
tended to affect you or your friends.
Not to affect my mother?
No, but some other persons who have not
done their duty. Do you know the Citizens
Toulan (3), Lepitre, Breno, Brugnot, Merle,
Michonis ?
(3) Toulan was really in communication with the

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 245
No, sir.
That is false; particularly Toulan, that
little young man who used to come so often
on duty to the Temple ?
/ know nothing of him, nor of the rest.
Do you remember that you were one day
alone with your brother in the turret ?
Yes.
Your parents had sent you thither, that
they might be more at their ease to speak to
these people ?
No, sir, but to accustom us to cold.
What did you do in the turret ?
We talked and played with one another.
When you came out, did you not observe
what these men had brought to your parents ?
Queen. He was a violent republican ; but the sight
of the royal family touched him with pity, and it was
said, at the time, a tenderer sentiment. It would seem,
from Hebert's questions, that he partook this latter
opinion, though it now appears that Madame Royale
did not know Toulan. He was guillotined' in June,
1794.

246 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
/ did not see any thing.
Chaumette then questioned me about a
thousand shocking things, of which they ac
cused my mother and my aunt. I was so
shocked at hearing such horrors, and so indig
nant, that, terrified as I was, I could not help
exclaiming, that they were infamous false
hoods ; but, in spite of my tears, they still
pressed their questions.
There were some things which I did not
comprehend, but of which I understood
enough to make me weep with indignation
and horror (4).
He then asked me several questions about
Varennes and other things, to all which I
answered as well as I could, without im
plicating any body. I had always heard my
parents say, that it were better to die than
implicate any body.
(4) It is obvious that these horrors were the atrocious
calumnies against the morals of the Queen and Ma
dame Elizabeth.

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 247
At last, about three o'clock, the examina
tion was finished ; it had lasted from noon.
I entreated Chaumette to let me rejoin my
mother, saying, with truth, that I had often
made the same request of my aunt. " It is
" out of my power," said he. '* What, Sir, you
" could not obtain this favour from the general
"council?" "No, I have no authority there."
He then sent me back to my apartment
with the municipal officers, desiring me not
to speak of what had passed to my aunt,
whom they were going to examine also. When
I reached my room, I threw myself into her
arms ; but we were soon separated, and she
was desired to go down stairs.
They put the same questions to her as
they had done to me relative to the men
before mentioned. She answered, that she
knew the persons and names of these officers
and others, but that she had no kind of in
tercourse with them. She denied having
any correspondence without the Temple, and

248 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
she replied with still more contempt to the
shocking things about which they examined
her also.
She returned at four o'clock : her examina
tion lasted but an hour, though mine had lasted
three, because the deputies saw that they had
no chance of intimidating her as they had
hoped to be able to do a young person by the
length and grossness of their inquiries. They
were, however, deceived : they forgot that
the life which I had lived for four years past,
and, above all, the example shown me by
my parents, had given me more energy and
strength of mind.
Chaumette had assured us that this inter
rogatory had no concern with my mother,
nor even ourselves, and that they were not
thinking of trying her. Alas ! he deceived
us: she was immediately after put upon her
trial, and condemned to death ; but we
were aware of neither. The following are
the only particulars which I afterwards heard.

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 249
She had two counsel (5), M. M. Ducoudray
and Chaveau Lagarde. A number of wit
nesses were examined, some of whom were
worthy persons ; others, alas ! were quite the
reverse. Mathieu and Simon, gaolers of the
Temple, were also examined. I think what
my mother must have suffered in seeing those
whom she knew were likely to approach us.
Our doctor, Brunier, was brought before
the court. They asked him if he knew the
Queen. " Yes." " How long ?" " Since 1788,
" when the Queen intrusted^ to me the care of
" her children's health." " When you went to
" the Temple, you facilitated the prisoner's
" correspondence with persons without the
" walls ?" The Queen then said, " Doctor
" Brunier, as you all know, never came to the
(5) M. Troncon-Ducoudray was exiled to Cayenne,
where he died in 1798. M. Chaveau Lagarde is still
alive, and has received the thanks and favour of the
Royal Family, and particularly of Madame D'An
gouleme. They both showed great talents and cou
rage.

250 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
" Temple but in company with a municipal
" officer, and never spoke to us but in his pre-
" sence." And, finally, unheard of persecution !
we learned that the trial had lasted three
days and nights without intermission. They
put the most unworthy, the most horrid
questions to her, on the same subject on
which Chaumette had examined us, and
which could never have entered the imagina
tion of any but such monsters. " I appeal
" to every mother who hears me," was the only
answer she made to this infamous accusation.
The people were touched at it, and her ter
rified judges precipitated the sentence, from
a dread of the effect which her dignity, pre
sence ofmind, and innocence, might have upon
the people. She listened to it with perfect
composure. They sent to attend her, in her
last moments, a priest who had taken the new
constitutional oaths. She at first declined
his assistance with gentleness, and afterwards
positively refused to listen to him or accept

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 251
his ministry. She knelt down, and prayed
alone for a considerable time, coughed a
little, then went to bed, and slept for some
hours. Next morning, learning that the
rector of St. Margaret's was in a part of the
prison opposite to hers, she knelt down at
the window facing his. I have been told that
this clergyman perceived her, and gave her
absolution, or his benediction. Then, having
thus offered her life as a sacrifice to her
Maker, she went to death with fortitude,
amidst the execrations which a misguided
multitude were uttering against her. Her
courage did not abandon her in the cart or
on the scaffold; and she showed as much
fortitude at her death as she had done
during her life.
Thus died, on the 16th of October, 1793,
Marie-Antoinette-Josephe-Jeanne de Lor
raine, daughter of an Emperor, and wife of a
King. She was thirty-seven years and eleven
months old. She had been twenty-three years

252 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
in France, and had survived her husband
eight months.
We could not persuade ourselves that my
mother was dead, though we heard her sen
tence cried about by the newsmen. A hope,
so natural to the unfortunate, induced us to
believe that she had been saved.
We could not think that all the world
would abandon us. Besides, I do not know
what may have happened out of doors, nor
whether I myself shall ever be set at liberty,
although they flatter me writh hopes that I
shall be released.
There were moments, however, at which,
in spite of our reliance on foreign powers, we
felt the liveliest alarm for my mother, when
we heard the fury of the unhappy populace
against the whole family. I remained for
eighteen months in this cruel suspense.
We learnt, by the cries of the newsmen,
the death of the Duke of Orleans; it was the
only piece of news that reached us during

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 253
the whole winter (6); but the searches were
soon renewed, and we were treated with in
creased rigour. My aunt, who had had, since
the Revolution, an issue in her arm, found
the greatest difficulty in procuring the ne
cessary dressings for it : they were for a
long while absolutely prohibited ; but at last
one of the municipal officers remonstrated on
the cruelty of such conduct, and procured
her the proper ointment. They also prevented
our making a kind of herb-tea, which my
aunt wished me to take every morning, On
account of my health. Being no longer al
lowed fish on fast-days, we asked for eggs,
or something else, which we could eat, with
out violating our religious scruples. These
were refused to us, on the ground that equality
admitted of no difference of days, that weeks
had been abolished, that decades had been
substituted in their room, and that Fridays
(6) Here in the first edition followed the words, " It
gave us a ray of hope!'

254 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
and Sundays no longer existed; and they
gave us an almanac of this new fashion, but
we would not look into it.
One fast-day, that my aunt asked for some
thing to eat, consistent with her religious
opinions, they said to her, " But, Citizen, do
"you not know what is going on in the world?
" None but fools believe in that stuff, now-a
" days." She never made a second request.
The officers still continued their visits of
search, particularly in the month of November,
when we were ordered to be searched three
times a day. One of their searches lasted
from four o'clock in the evening to half-
past eight. The four officers who made it
. were quite intoxicated. It is impossible to
give any idea of their language, their insults,
their curses, during these four hours. They
carried away even the most trifling articles,
such as hats, court-cards, because they are
called Kings and Queens, and books which
happened to have coats of arms in them.

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 255
They, however, left us our religious books,
after ridiculing them in every term of filth
and blasphemy which they could devise.
Simon accused us of forging assignats,
and of having corresponded with my father
during his trial ; these charges he made in
the name of my poor little brother, whom
he forced to sign these falsehoods (7). My
aunt had taught me the game of tric-trac to
divert me, and the noise we made in playing
was represented by Simon as coining; we,
however, played tric-trac during the winter,
which, in spite of the visits and searches of
our inquisitors, passed away jquietly enough.
They gave us fire-wood, which they had at
first refused us.
[1794.] — On the 19th of January we
heard a great noise in my brother's apart
ment, and we guessed he was going to be
removed from the Temple : we were con-
(7) See afterwards an account of the wonderful silence
which the child imposed upon himself ever after having
signed this declaration.

256 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
vinced of this, when, looking through the key
hole, we saw several parcels carried away.
On the subsequent days we heard the doors
open, and the sound of footsteps in the room :
satisfied, therefore, that my brother was gone,
we believed that some person of importance
had been placed in his apartment. But it was
Simon who was gone : obliged to choose be
tween the situations of municipal officer and
guardian of my brother, he had preferred the
former, and they had had the cruelty to leave
the poor child absolutely alone.
Unheard-of and unexampled barbarity ! to
leave an unhappy and sickly infant, of eight
years old, in a great room, locked and bolted
in, with no other resource than a broken bell,
which he never rang, so greatly did he dread the
people whom its sound would have brought to
him: he preferred wanting any thing, and every
thing,to calling for his persecutors. His bed had
not been stirred for six months, and he had not
strength to make it himself — it was alive with
bugs, and vermin still more disgusting. His

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 257
linen and his person were covered with them.
For more than a year he had had no change
of shirt or stockings ; every kind of filth was
allowed to accumulate about him, and in
his room ; and, during all that period, no
thing of that kind had been removed. His
window, which was locked as well as grated,
was never opened ; and the infectious smell
of this horrid room was so dreadful, that no
one could bear it for a moment. He might,
indeed, have washed himself, for he had a
pitcher of water, and have kept himself some
what more clean than he did; but, over
whelmed by the ill-treatment he had received,
he had not resolution to do so, and his illness
began to deprive him of even the necessary
strength. He never asked for any thing, so
great was his dread of Simon and his other
keepers. He passed his days without any
kind of occupation. They did not even
allow him light in the evening. This situation
affected his mind as well as his body, and it

258 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
is not surprising that he should have fallen
into a frightful atrophy. The length of time
which he resisted this persecution proves how
good his constitution must have originally
been. During the winter, the keepers, in address
ing my aunt and me, always thee'd and thou'd
us (nous tutoya.) We despised their usual
persecutions, but this last degree of gross
familiarity (8) brought blushes in our face.
My aunt kept Lent strictly. She never
breakfasted, but dined oh a cup of milk-
coffee (it was her breakfast, which she saved) ;
and, for supper, she ate only dry bread. She,
however, desired me to eat what was brought
me, because my age did not require that
I should fast ; but, as for herself, nothing
could be more exemplary than her way of
(8) None but lovers or the most intimate relatives
used this form of expression ; and, such is the effect
of habit, this mode of address from a stranger to a
lady seemed an absolute indecency. This explains
the blushes of the Princesses.

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 259
life. Though they had done all they could
to deprive her of the means of obeying the
dictates of her conscience in these particulars,
she had not, on that account, neglected any
of the duties of religion.
In the beginning of spring we were re
fused candles, and we were obliged to go to
bed as soon as it grew dark.
Until the 9th of May nothing extraordinary
happened. On that day, at the moment we
were going to bed, the outside bolts of the
doors were drawn, and a knocking was heard.
My aunt begged of them to wait till she
had put on her gown ; but they answered
that they could not wait, and knocked so
violently, that they were near bursting open
the door. When she was dressed, she opened
the door, and they immediately said to her,
" Citizen, come down." — " And my niece ?"—
" We shall take care of her afterwards." She
embraced me ; and, in order to calm my agita
tion, promised to return. " No, citizen, said
they, " you shall not return : — take your bon-
s 2

260 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
" net, and come along." They overwhelmed
her with the grossest abuse. She bore it all
patiently, and embraced me again, exhorting
me to have confidence in Heaven, to follow
the principles of religion in which I had
been educated, and never to forget the last
commands of my father and mother. She
then left me.
Down stairs they detained her a consider
able time in searching her (though they
found nothing), and in writing an account
of their proceedings. At length, after a
thousand insults, she was put into a hackney-
coach, with the crier of the revolutionary
court, and taken to the Conciergerie, where
she passed the night. The next morning
they asked her these questions . —
What is your name?
Elizabeth, of France.
Where were you on the 10th of August ?
In the palace qf the Thuilleries, with my
brother. What have you done with your jewels?

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 26 1
/ Jcnow nothing about them ; besides, these
questions are wholly useless. You are deter
mined on my death. I have offered to Heaven
the sacrifice of my life ; and I am ready to die—
happy at the prospect of rejoining in a better
world those whom I loved upon earth.
They condemned her to death (9). She
asked to be placed in the same room with the
other persons who were to die with her. She
exhorted them, with a presence of mind, an
elevation of soul, and religious enthusiasm,
which fortified all their minds. In the cart
she preserved the same firmness, and en
couraged and supported the women who
accompanied her. At the scaffold they had
the barbarity to reserve her for the last. All
(9) Fury, fanaticism, fear, may have actuated the
Jacobins in the murder of the King and Queen ; but
what, except wanton cruelty and thirst of blood, could
have driven them to destroy a female who was not only
innocent and inoffensive, but really one of the most vir
tuous of human beings, against whom neither private
slander nor political passion had ever breathed a com
plaint ?

262 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
the women, in leaving the cart, begged to
embrace her(l). She kissed them, and, with
her usual benignity, said some words of com
fort to each. Her strength never abandoned
her, and she died with all the resignation of
the purest piety. Her soul was separated
from her body, and ascended to receive
its reward from the merciful Being, whose
worthy servant she had been.
Marie Phillipine Elizabeth-Helene(2), sister
of Louis XVI., died on the 10th May, 1794,
at the age of thirty years. She had been,
during all her life, a model of virtue. From
the age of fifteen, she had dedicated herself
to piety, and the means of her salvation. Since
1790, when I was in a situation to appreciate
her merits, I saw in her nothing but the love
(1) There were executed at the same time with her
Mesdames de Lamoignon, Crussol, Montmorin, and
six other females ; and M. M. de Lomenie (three in
number), Montmorin, junior, and eleven other men.
(2) It is observable that the Revolutionary Tri
bunal did riot take the trouble even to ascertain her
names : she was condemned as Anne Elizabeth Capet.

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 263
of God and the horror of sin — religion, gen
tleness, meekness, modesty; — and a devoted
attachment to her family ; she sacrificed her
life for them, for nothing could persuade
her to leave the King and Queen. She was,
in short, a Princess worthy of the blood to
which she belonged. I never can be suf
ficiently grateful for her goodness to me,
which ended only with her life. She looked
upon me as her child, and I honoured and
loved her as a second mother. I was thought
to be very like her in countenance, and I feel
conscious that I have something of her cha
racter. Would to God I might imitate her
virtues, and hope that I may hereafter de
serve to meet her, as well as my dear parents,
in the bosom of our Creator, where I cannot
doubt that they enjoy the reward of their vir
tuous lives and meritorious deaths !
It is impossible to imagine my distress at
finding myself separated from my aunt. I

264 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
did not know what had become of her, and
could not learn. I passed the night in great
anxiety, but, though very uneasy, I was far
from believing that her death was so near.
Sometimes I tried to persuade myself that
they would only banish her from France,
but, when I considered the manner in which
she had been carried off, all my fears re
vived. Next day I inquired what had become of
her. The officers replied, " that she was
" gone to take the air." I repeated my desire,-
" that since I was to be separated from my
" aunt, I should be allowed to rejoin my mo-
" ther." They said they would speak about
it. They then brought me the key of a press,
in which my aunt had kept her linen. I
wished to send her some, as she had gone
without any. They answered, " that they
could not permit it. To all my entreaties to
see my mother, or hear of my aunt, these

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 265
men always answered, that they would speak
about it.
At last, seeing that all these endeavours
were fruitless, and recollecting that my aunt
had told me, if ever I should be left alone,
it was my duty to ask for a female attend
ant, I did so, in obedience to her advice ; but
reluctantly, for I was sure either of being
refused, or of getting some wicked woman.
In fact, the municipal officers answered this
request by telling me that I did not want
a woman, and by redoubling their severity
towards me. They even took away my knife,
which had been before returned to me. This
they did after the following examination :
Come, young citizen, tell us, have you a
great many knives ?
No, gentlemen, only two.
Have you none in your dressing-case ?
No, gentlemen.
Neither knives nor scissors ?
No, gentlemen.

266 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
Another time, havingfound thestovewarm,
they deprived me of a tinder-box.
May one ask what you wanted of a fire ?
To bathe my feet in hot water.
How did you light the fire ?
With a tinder-boa; and flint.
Who gave them to you ?
/ do not know.
Meanwhile we shall take them away ; it is
for your good, lest you should fall asleep near
the fire and burn yourself. Have you any
thing else ?
No, gentlemen.
Similar scenes were renewed every day,
but I only spoke, even to those who brought
me my meals, when they put direct questions
to me.
One day there came a man who, I believe,
was Robespierre. The officers showed him
great respect. His visit was a secret, even
to the people in the tower, who did not know
who he was, or, at least, would not tell me :

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 267
he stared insolently at me, cast his eyes on
my books, and, after joining the municipal
officers in a search, retired (3).
The guards were often drunk; but they
generally left my brother and me quiet in
our respective apartments until the 9th Ther
midor. My brother still pined in solitude and
filth. His keepers never went near him but
to give him his meals. They had no com
passion for this unhappy child. There was
one of the guards, whose gentle manners en
couraged me to recommend my brother to
his attention : this man ventured to complain
of the severity with which the boy was treated,
but he was dismissed next day.
For myself I asked nothing but what was
(3) The first edition suppressed Madame's account
of this mysterious visit; it seems to give colour to a
report which was spread that Robespierre had the
audacity to raise his thoughts to the hand of the young
Princess. It was probably a dishke to preserve any
trace of this surprising insolence that Induced the first
editor to omit this passage.

268 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
indispensable, and even this was often harshly
refused ; but I, at least, could keep myself
clean. I had soap and water, and carefully
swept out my room every day. I had no light ;
but in the long days I did not feel much
this privation. They would not give me any
more books ; but I had some religious works
and some travels, which I had read over and
over. I also had my knitting, which tired
me very much (4).
Such was our state when the 9th (5) Ther
midor arrived : I heard the drums beating
to arms, the tocsin ringing, and grew very
uneasy. The officers who were in the Temple
never stirred out. When my dinner was
brought, I was afraid to ask what the matter
(4) There is a singular naivete in the original expres
sion ; " J'avais aussi un tricot qui m'ennuyait beau-
" coup." It describes admirably the irksomeness of
this solitary and worn-out amusement, which, though
it tired her, she could not help continuing.
(5) 27th of July, 1794, the day of the overthrow of
Robespierre.

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 269
was ; but on the 10th Thermidor, at six
o'clock in the morning, I heard a frightful
noise in the Temple. The guards were call
ing to arms, the drums were rolling, and
doors opening and shutting with violence.
All this tumult was, it seems, occasioned by
a visit of some members of the National As
sembly (the Convention), who came to see
that all was quiet. I heard the doors of my
brother's room open ; I then jumped out of
bed, and was already dressed by the time the
deputies came to my room. There were
Barras (6), and several others : they were in
(6) Barras, of a noble family of Provence, a conven
tionalist, a regicide, and at last a director. He was
Buonaparte's first patron; and, when the latter at
tained the supreme power, became, as is natural with
such worthies, his first'victim. He amassed enormous
wealth, and settled himself, after Buonaparte's ingra
titude, in his native province, where he lived in the
enjoyment of his ill-gotten riches, till the law for
banishing the regicides disturbed his luxurious retire
ment.

270 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
their official full dress, which surprised me,
not being accustomed to see them so fine.
Barras spoke to me, called me by my name,
and was surprised to find me up. They soon
went away; and I heard them haranguing
the guards under the windows, and exhort
ing them to be faithful to the National
Convention. There were great shouts of
Vive la Republic! Vive la Convention ! The
guard was doubled, and the three municipal
officers, who were in the Temple, remained
there eight days. In the evening of the
third day, about half-past nine, as I was
lying in bed, because I had no light, but
not able to sleep from anxiety as to what was
going on, they knocked at my door, to show
me to Laurent, the commissioner appointed
by the Convention for the custody of my bro
ther and myself. I got up : they made me a
long visit, showing Laurent every thing about
the apartment, and then retired.

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 271
Next morning, at ten o'clock, Laurent (7)
came into my room, and inquired politely
whether I wanted any thing. He visited
me three times a day, but always with ci
vility, and, in addressing me, he did not
thee-a,nd-thou (tutoyer) me. He never searched
the drawers, nor other pieces of furniture.
At the end of three days, the Convention
sent a deputation to ascertain the situation of
my brother. The members (8) were struck
with pity at the state in which they found him,
and directed that he should be better treated.
Laurent got him a clean bed out of my room,
the old one being filled with bugs and ver
min: he made him bathe himself, and cleansed
him from the filth with which he was covered.
However, they still left him alone.
I soon asked Laurent about what gave me
the liveliest concern, the fate of my mother
(7) I am sorry not to be able to give any account of
Laurent. (8) This was not the deputation whose report fol
lows this narrative.

272 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
and aunt, of whose deaths I was still ignorant.
I also asked to be permitted ('to rejoin my
mother. He replied, with an air of concern,
that my inquiries should not be addressed to
him. Next day came some men in scarfs (9), to
whom I repeated the same question, and they
gave me the same answer. They added,
that they did not see why I should wish to
be released, as I seemed to be very com
fortable. " It is dreadful," I replied, " to
" be separated for more than a year from one's
" mother, without even hearing what has become
(9) One of the fopperies of the Revolution was the
costumes and scarfs which the public functionaries, as
they were called, wore. This absurdity is not yet
quite disused : the members of the Chamber of Peers
and Deputies have still a peculiar costume. It is not
unusual to see some of these gentlemen in a fine em
broidered coat, over their other ordinary clothes, and
wearing perhaps the dirty boots in which they walked
to the assembly. They should be either in full costume,
or in their usual dress : the mixture is ridiculous. It
is observable that the reign of equality exhibited as
decided distinctions of decoration as the most feudal
court. *•'

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 273
"of her, or of my aunt'' "You are not ill?"
" No, Sir, but the Cruellest iUness is that qf
" the heart." " I tell you again, that we can
" do nothing for you ; but I advise you to be
" patient, and submit to the justice and good-
" ness of the French people." I had nothing
more to say.
I was exposed (1), next morning, by the
explosion which took place at the plain of
Grenelle, which terrified me greatly.
During all this time, my brother still re
mained alone. Laurent visited him thrice
a day, but he was afraid to show him all
the attention he wished, for he was closely
watched. He took, however, more care of
me, and I had every reason to be satisfied
-with him during the whole time of his attend
ance. He frequently inquired whether I
wanted any thing, and begged me to ask
for what I might wish for, and to ring my
(1) The original passage is somewhat obscurely ex
pressed, but its meaning is obvious,

274 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
bell when I wanted any thing. He gave
me back the tinder-box, and allowed me
candles. At the end of October, at one o'clock in
the morning, there was a knocking at my
door : I was asleep, but I rose immediately
and opened the door, trembling with fear.
Two men of the committee appeared attended
by Laurent ; they looked at me, but retired
without speaking (2).
In the beginning of November, certain
civil commissioners came. They were men
chosen, one from each section, to pass-twenty-
four hours in the Temple, to ascertain the
existence of my brother. Another commis
sioner also, called Gomier (3), came to assist
Laurent. He took extraordinary care of my
(2) The account of this strange visit was also sup
pressed in the original edition.
(3) M. Hue calls him Gomin, and another account
Gomain. He accompanied Madame to the frontier,
when she was exchanged for the deputies who had
been delivered to the Austrians by Dumouriez.

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 275
brother. For a great while, this poor child
had had no light. He was dying of fright.
Gomier obtained leave to give him a candle
at night-fall; he even used to pass several
hours with him, to amuse him. Gomier
soon saw that his wrists and knees were
swelled; he was afraid the joints were about
to grow callous. He mentioned it to the
committee, and asked permission to take
him to exercise in the garden. At first, he
only removed him to the littleparlour, which
delighted the child, who was fond of a change
of place. He soon felt the attentions of
Gomier, and became fond of him : the poor
boy had been long unaccustomed to kindness.
There is no example of such studied barbarity
to a child.
On the 19th of December, the Committee
of Public Safety (4) came to the Temple, in
(4) This was a deputation of the Committee, an
account of whose visit from the pen of one of them is
added to this publication.
T 2

276 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
consequence of his illness. The members
also visited me, but did not speak.
The winter passed quietly enough: the
keepers were civil, and even lighted my fire
for me ; they allowed me as much fire-wood
as I wanted, which pleased me greatly. They
also gave me such books as I wished for.
Laurent had already procured me several.
My greatest misfortune now was, that I
could hear no tidings of my mother, and
aunt. I did not even venture to ask after my
uncles or my great aunt, but I thought con
stantly of them all.
During the winter, my brother had some
attacks of fever. He could not be kept away
from the fire. Laurent and Gomier used to
coax him up to the leads to take the air, but
he was hardly there when he complained of
not being able to walk, and wished to go
down again : he grew worse, and his knees
swelled greatly.
Laurent was now removed : but a worthy

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 277
man of the name ofLoinetook his place, and,
with Gomier, attended the child. In the be..
ginning of spring they persuaded me to go
up to the leads, which I did.
The illness of my brother grew worse every
day ; his strength diminished ; his mind even
was affected by the severity he had suffered
so long. The Committee of Public Safety
sent Dessault, a physician, to attend him : he
promised to cure him, though he admitted the
disease was very dangerous. Dessault died(5),
and M. Dumangin and Pelletan, a surgeon,
were appointed to succeed him. They had
from the beginning no hope ; they gave him,
however, some medicines, which he swallowed
with great difficulty. He fortunately did
(5) It has been often stated that Dessault died after
his patient, not without suspicion of poison : this is a
mistake; he died before the young King. I find also,
in Lemaire's History of the Revolution, that a M.
Chopart was called in on Dessault's death, and that
he also died suddenly ; and that on his decease, Pel
letan was employed.

278 PRIVATE MEMOIRS OF
not suffer much. It was rather a wasting
away than positive pain. He had several
alarming crises. The fever increased; his
strength diminished, and he expired without
pain. Thus died, on the 9th of June, 1795, at
three o'clock in the afternoon, Louis XVII.,
ten years and two months old. Even his
keepers wept for him, so much had his amiable
qualities endeared him to them. He had had
great talents, but confinement and the horrors
of which he has been the victim had greatly
altered him, and even if he had lived, it is to
be feared that his mental power would have
been impaired. I do not believe that he was
poisoned, as some have said and still say.
That must be false, from the evidence of the
medical people, who opened the body and
found no traces of poison ; the drugs too which
were administered to him in his last illness
were analysed and found good. The only poi
son that shortened his days was filth, made

WHAT PASSED IN THE TEMPLE. 279
more fatal by horrible treatment, by harshness
and cruelty, of which there is no example (6).
Such was the life and death of my beloved
friends, during their confinement in the Tem
ple and the other prisons.

Written in the tower of the Temple (7).
(6) Madame Royale remained in the Temple six
months after the death of her brother, and left it on
the 1 9th of December, 1795, the seventeenth anniver
sary of her birth. M. Hue, in his work, relates what
passed on this occasion, and whatever information
he could collect relative to the last months of the
Princess's confinement.
(7) These words were not in the first edition.

APPENDIX.

I.
NARRATIVE
Of what passed between Louis XVI. and
M. de Malesherbes.

NOTICE.
M. de Malesherbes has left a journal, containing the
following details upon what passed at the Temple, be
tween Louis XVI. and himself, which supplies some cir
cumstances wanting in all the other accounts, and which
it is therefore thought right to reprint here.

The moment I received permission to ,
enter the apartment of the King, I hastened
thither. On perceiving me, he immediately
quitted a Tacitus, which lay open before him
on a small table. He embraced me, his eyes
filled with tears, and he said to me, " Your
" sacrifice is so much the more generous, that
" you will expose your own life, and you will
" not save mine." I observed to him that

282 malesherbes' narrative.
there was no danger for me ; that, besides,
I at once fulfilled the most sacred of duties,
and the warmest wishes of my heart ; and
that I hoped we might save him by a suc
cessful defence. He replied, " I am certain
" that they will put me to death ; they have
"both the power and the will: nevertheless,
" let us attend to my trial, as if I were likely
"to succeed; and indeed I shall succeed, for
" my memory shall be without a stain. But
" when will the two counsel come ?" He had
seen Tronchet in the Constituent Assembly,
but was not acquainted with Deseze. He
made some inquiries concerning the latter,
and appeared much satisfied with the account
I gave of him.
He was every day employed with us in
analyzing the various documents, suggesting
arguments, and refuting charges, with a pre
sence of mind and firmness, which filled his
other advocates as well as myself with ad-
meration, and of which they availed them
selves by taking notes in addition to their

IVlAl^JiSJlEKliKS .JNAJbUtATlVJi. SOCJt
own. We flattered ourselves that we might
hope for a sentence of banishment. We
mentioned this to him ; and by our reasonings
in support of this idea we alleviated the acute
ness of his feelings. He entertained the idea
for some days ; but the public papers unde
ceived him, and proved that we must abandon
any such hope.
When Deseze had drawn up his speech, he
read it to us. I have never heard any thing
more pathetic than the conclusion : it drew
tears from us : but the King said to him —
" It must be omitted ; I do not wish to touch
" their feelings."
On another occasion, when we were alone,
he said to me — " One thing distresses me
"much: Deseze and Tronchet owe me no-
" thing; they devote to me their time, their
" talents, and perhaps their lives ; what return
" can I make for such services ? I have nothing
" left : if I made a bequest in their favour, it
" would not be carried into effect : but, indeed,

284 malesherbes' "narrative.
" it is not with money that such a debt can be
" discharged." Sire," I replied, " their own
" conscience and posterity will confer on them
"their just reward. But you may yourself
"bestow one which will overpay them."
"How?" "Embrace them, Sire." The follow
ing day the King folded them in his arms, and
they shed tears whilst they seized his hands.
The day pf trial was approaching, when
he, one morning, said to me, " My sister has
" mentioned to me a worthy clergyman, who
" has not taken the oath, and whose obscure
" station may hereafter shelter him from per-
" secution : this is his direction. Will you go
" to him, speak with him, and prepare him to
" come, when I shall have obtained permission
" to see him ?" He added, " This is a strange
"commission for a philosopher (1), as I know

(1) Philosophe and infidel were synonymous terms,
since Voltaire had persuaded the wits of Paris that
religion was a superstition, and that to deny Christ
was the test of good sense.

MALESHERBES' narrative. 285
" you to be ; but, if you had suffered as much
" as I have, and were about to die, as I am, I
" should wish you to enjoy those religious sen-
" timents, which would support and console
" you much better than philosophy. My dear
"Monsieur de Malesherbes, it is with all my
" heart that I pray to God to enlighten you."
After the sitting, at which he and his ad
vocates had been heard at the Bar, he said
to me, " You now perceive that, from the first
" instant, I was not mistaken, and that my
" sentence was pronounced before I had been
"heard." On my return from the Assembly,
where we had urged an appeal to the people,
and where we had all three spoken, I told
him that, on coming out, I had been sur
rounded by a great number of persons, who
had assured me that he should not perish,
or, at least, not till after they themselves,
and their friends, had died in the attempt to
save him. He said to me, " Do you know
" them ? Return to the Assembly instantly ;

286 malesherbes' narrative.
"try to find them: tell them that I should
" never forgive them if a drop of blood were
" shed on my account. I would not consent
" that any should be spilled, when, perhaps,
" it might have saved my throne and my life ;
" and I do not repent my forbearance." I
was the first who announced his sentence
to him : his back was turned to a lamp
which stood on the chimney, his elbows on
the table, and his face covered with his hands.
The noise I made in entering roused him from
his meditation : he looked steadily at me, and
rising, said to me, " For two days I have been
" occupied in considering, whether, during
" the course of my reign, I have deserved the
"slightest reproach from my subjects : well,
" M. de Malesherbes, I declare to you, with
" all the sincerity of my heart, as a man about
" to appear before his God, that I have always
" wished and laboured for the happiness of
" my people ; and I have not, in my whole life,
" had one idea that was inconsistent with this

MAL.ESHEK.BES NAKUAllViS. «0 /
" feeling of my heart." I saw, once more, my
unfortunate Sovereign: two municipal officers
were standing by his side : he also stood,
and was reading. One of them told me to
speak to him, adding, that they should not
listen. I assured the King that the priest
he had wished for was coming : he embraced
me, and said, " Death does not alarm me :
" I have the greatest confidence in the mercy
"of God."

II.

REPORT

Of John Baptiste Harmand, one of the Com
missioners of the Convention, appointed to
inquire into the State of the Son qf Louis
XVI.

NOTICE.
Few men, even in the Revolution, have suffered greater
vicissitudes of fortune than J. B. Harmand, the author of
the following paper. He was of a respectable family, and
an advocate at bar before the Revolution. In ] 792, he was
elected to the Convention, where Tie voted for the exile
of the King, which was equivalent, under the circum
stances, to a vote of acquittal. Though he sat on the
Mountain, he was really a modiri, not to say a royalist.
After the fall of Robespierre, he became a member of the
Committee of Public Safety, in which capacity he made
an official visit to Louis XVII., which is the subject of
the following narrative.
Harmand became a member of the Council of Ancients,

harmand's report. 289
and secretary of that body ; he was afterwards elected
to the Council of Five Hundred, and when the accession
of Buonaparte began to produce a regular government,
M. Harmand was appointed Prefect of a Department,
and created successively a member of the Legion of
Honour, and a Baron of the Empire. He, however, does
not seem to have been a more cordial partisan of the
Usurpation than he was of the Revolution ; for he seems
to have been deprived of his Prefecture, and reduced to
an obscure and severe, but not dishonourable, poverty. In
1814, he published a pamphlet on the treatment of the
Royal Family in the Temple, of which the following
Report is an extract ; but the sale of this work was too
feeble a resource, and towards the end of 1815, this man —
who had sat in all the legislatures of regenerated France —
whose character and talents were always respectable —
who held for a moment the fate of the Royal Family
in his hands — who was governor of one of the most im
portant departments of his country, and finally decorated
with stars and titles of nobility — this man was found
in December, 1815, starving of cold and hunger in the
streets of Paris, and lived only to be conveyed to the
public hospital.
The Report itself is extremely interesting, particularly
on account of the firmness and sensibility evinced in the
steady silence of the unfortunate child.

We arrived at the door, the bolts of
which confined the innocent, the only son

u

290 harmand's report.
of our King — our King himself. — The key
turned with a grating noise in the lock, and
on the door being opened, we discovered
a small ante-room, perfectly clean, with no
other article of furniture in it but an earthen
ware stove, communicating, by an opening in
the wall, with the adjoining room, and which
stove could be lighted only in the ante-room.
The commissaries observed to us that this
precaution had been taken, in order not to
leave a fire in the power of a child.
The room so adjoining was the Prince's
chamber, Containing his bed ; the door was
fastened on the outside, and weliad again to
wait for its being opened. These sounds of
locks and bolts inspired a gloom, the more
painful from being increased, rather than
dispelled, by reflection.
The Prince was sitting near a small square
table, on which were scattered a number of
playing cards, some turned up into the shapes
of trunks and boxes, and others raised into

harmand's report. 291
houses. He was occupied with these cards
when we entered, and did not leave off his
play. He had on a sailor's dress, new, and
made of slate-coloured cloth ; his head was
uncovered ; and the room was clean and well
lighted. The bed was a small wooden one,
without curtains, and the bedding and linen
seemed to us to be good and of a fine quality.
The bed was behind the door, on the left
hand on going in ; and farther, on the same
side, was another bedstead, without bedding,
placed at the foot of the first. Between them
there was a door, which was shut, leading
into another apartment which we did not see.
The commissaries told us that the second
bed had been that of the shoemaker Simon.
After having become acquainted with these
preliminary details, I approached the Prince ;
but our motions did not appear to make any
impression upon him. I told him that the
government — informed too late of the bad
state of his health, and of his refusal to take
u 2

292 harmand's report.
exercise, or to answer the questions put to
him upon that subject, as well as his rejecting
the proposals made to him to take some re
medies, and to receive the visit of a physician
— had sent us to him to ascertain these facts,
and, in its name, to renew all those pro
posals ; that we hoped they would be agree
able to him, but that we should take upon
ourselves to offer him advice, and even to
add reproaches, if he should persist in re
maining silent, and in not taking exercise ;
that we were authorised to offer him such
objects of diversion or recreation as he might
desire ; and that I requested he would tell
me whether that pleased him.
Whilst I was thus addressing him, he
looked at me steadfastly, without any change
of position, and he listened to me apparently
with the greatest attention ; but not one word
in reply.
I then began afresh my proposals, as con
ceiving that he had not understood me;

harmand's report. 293
and I detailed them pretty nearly in these
words :
" I have perhaps explained myself badly,
" or perhaps you have not understood me,
" sir]: I have the honour to ask whether you
" wish for a horse, a dog, birds, toys of any
" kind whatsoever; or one or more com-
" panions of your own age, whom we will
" present to you previously to their being
" permanently attached to you ; will you, at
" the present moment, go down into the gar-
" den, or ascend the turrets? Do you wish
" for sweetmeats, cakes, &c. ?"
I exhausted in vain the list of all the things
that are' usually wished for by children of his
age ; I did not receive a word of answer, not
even a word or a motion, although his face
was turned towards me, and he looked at me
with an amazing fixedness, denoting the most
utter indifference.
I then took upon me to assume a more de
cided tone, and I ventured to say to him,
" Sir, so much obstinacy at your age is a

294 HARMAND'S ' REPORT.
" fault that nothing can excuse : it is the
" more surprising, since our visit, as you
" must perceive, has for its object the afford-
" ing some relief to your situation, some at-
" tentions and succours to your health ; how
" can we attain this object, if you persist in
" refusing to answer, and to say what is agree-
" able to you? Is there any other way of
" making the proposal ? have the goodness
" to state it, and we shall adopt it."
Still the same fixed look and the same at
tention, but not a word. I resumed :
" If your refusal to speak, sir, involved
" none but yourself, we would wait, not
" without pain, but with more patience,
" until you might be pleased to speak, as we
" must conclude that your situation is less
" displeasing to you than we imagined, since
" you will not change it: but you do not be-
" long to yourself; all those about you are^
" responsible for your person and your con-
" dition : do you wish that we ourselves should
" be blamed? For what answer can we give

HARMAND'S REPORT. 295
" to the government, of which we are only
" the delegates ? Have the goodness to an-
" swer me, I entreat you, or we must finish
" by commanding you."
Not a word, and always the same fixedness.
I was in despair, as well as my colleagues :
that look had especially so strong a feature of
resignation and indifference, that it seemed
to say, what does it matter to me? despatch
your victim.
I could bear no more ; my heart was full, and
I was near giving way to tears of the bitterest
grief j but some steps which I took about
the room recovered me, and I resolved to try
the effect of a tone of command. I tried it ac
cordingly, placing myself close on the Prince's
right hand, and saying to him, " Give me your
" hand." He gave it me ; and, extending
mine up to his arm-pit, I felt a swelling at
the wrist, and one at the elbow. It seems
that these swellings were not painful, for the
Prince gave no sign of their being so.

296 HARMAND'S REPORT.
" The other hand:" he gave it me likewise:
but there was nothing.
" Allow me also to touch your legs and knees"
He rose; and I found the same swellings
under both knees.
In this position, the young Prince had the
appearance of rickets, and a bad formation :
his legs and thighs were long and thin, his
arms the same ; his neck short, his chest
raised, his shoulders high and narrow; his
head was in every respect finely formed and
beautiful ; his complexion clear, but without
colour; his hair long and handsome, well
kept, and of a light chesnut colour.
" Now have the goodness to walk." He did
so immediately, going towards the door, and
returning at once to his seat.
" Do you think, sir, that that is exercise ?
" And do you not perceive, on the contrary,
" that this apathy is alone the cause of your
" ill-health, and of the disorders with which
" you are threatened ? Pray believe in our

HARMAND'S REPORT. 297
" experience and regard for you : you cannot
" hope to recover your health but by attend-
" ing to our proposals and advice. We will
•' send you a physician, and we trust that
" you will consent to answer him ; at least
" make us a sign that it will not be disagree-
" able to you."
Not a sign, not a word !
" Be so good, sir, as to walk again, and for
" a little longer time."'
Silence and refusal. He remained on his
seat, his elbows resting on the table : his
features did not change for an instant ; not
the least motion apparent, not the least mark
of surprise in the eyes ; just as if we had not
been present, and as if I had not spoken. I
must observe that my colleagues (1) said
nothing. We looked at each other in amazement;
(1) Reverchon and Mathieu : they had both been
Jacobins, but came round, I believe, to less violent
opinions.

298 HARMAND S REPORT.
and we were advancing towards each other to
exchange our reflections, when the Prince's
dinner was brought.
A new scene, of grief — it should have been
seen and felt, to be believed.
A porringer of red earthen-ware contained
a black soup, on the top of which floated a
few lentils ; and on a plate of thej same ma
terial lay a small bit of boiled meat, also black
and shrivelled, the bad quality of which was
sufficiently apparent. There was a second
plate of lentils ; and a third, in which were six
chesnuts, rather burnt than roasted; a pewter
fork, but no knife. The commissaries told us
that this was by order of the council of the
commune : and there was no wine.
Such was the dinner of Louis XVII., of the
successor to so many kings ! and such was
the treatment suffered by innocence !
Whilst the illustrious prisoner was eating
this shameful meal, my colleagues and my
self expressed by our looks to the commis-

HARMAND'S REPORT. *299
sioners of the municipality our astonishment
and indignation : and in order to spare them,
in the Prince's presence, the reproaches they
deserved, I made them a sign to come into
the ante-room. There we explained our
sentiments; but they repeated that it was
the order of the municipality, and that it was
worse before their time. We ordered that
this execrable system should be changed for
the future, and that they should begin that mo
ment to improve his dinner, and particularly
to give him some fruit. I desired that grapes,
which were then scarce, should be procured
for him.
Having given these orders, we went back
into the room, and found that he had eaten
every thing. I asked him whether he was
satisfied with his dinner?
No answer.
Whether he wished for some fruit?
No answer.
Whether he liked gf apes?

300 harmand's report.
No answer.
Shortly after the grapes were brought ; they
were placed on the table, and he eat them
without speaking.
Do you wish for more?
No answer.
We could then no longer doubt that every
effort on our part to induce him to speak
would be useless. I told him the conclusion
we had come to, and I said to him that it was
the more painful to us, as we could attribute
his silence, towards us, only to our having
had the misfortune to displease him. I added,
that we should, in consequence, propose to
the government to send other commissioners
who might be more agreeable to him.
The same look, but no reply.
Do you wish, sir, that we should withdraw?
No answer.
After these words we retired. I have
stated that the motive to which the com
missaries attributed the obstinate silence of

harmand's report. 301
the Prince was his having been forced by
Simon to give evidence against his mother
and his aunt. I inquired of them, in the ante
room, whether that silence really began on
the day upon which that atrocious violence
had compelled him to sign the odious and
absurd deposition against the Queen. They
repeated their assertions on that point, and
protested that the Prince had not spoken since
the evening of that day!
My colleagues and I agreed, that, for the
honour of the nation, which was ignorant of
these unhappy circumstances — for that of the
Convention, which, indeed, knew them not,
but which ought to have known them — and
for that even of the criminal Municipality of
Paris, which knew all, and which caused all
these evils, we should confine ourselves to
the ordering some steps of temporary allevia
tion (which were immediately carried into
effect) ; and that we should not make a re-

302 harmand's report.
port in public, but in a secret committee (2);
and it was so done.
(2) This accounts for the extraordinary circum
stances stated in this report being only to be found
in M. Harmand's publication. — The poor Prince
died in six months after this visit, and his persecutors
hoped that the story of his sufferings would be buried
with him.

THE end.

LONDON:
PRINTED BY THOMAS DAVISON, WHITEFRIARS.

3 9002 00502 1796