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Presented to the
UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO LIBRARY
by the
ONTARIO LEGISLATIVE LIBRARY
1980
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THE LIFE AND LETTERS OP
MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE
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University of Toronto
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THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF
MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE
FOLLOWED BY
THE JOURNAL OF THE TEMPLE BY CLERY
AND ^
THE NARRATIVE OF MARIE THERESE DE FRANCE, DUCHESSE D'ANGOULEME
TRANSLATED BY KATEARISE PRESCOTT WORMELET ILLUSTRATED WITH PORTRAITS FROM THE ORIGINAL
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VOLUME IX
P • F • COLLIER & SON PUBLISHERS • NEW YORK
Copyright. 1901 By Hardy, Pratt & Compaky
All Rights Reserved
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COISTTENTS.
LIFE AND LETTERS OF MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE.
CHAPTER L
Page
Introductory. — Sketch of the Life of Madame Elisabeth from her
Childhood until August 10, 1792 1
CHAPTER IL
Letters of Madame Elisabeth to the Marquise de Bombelles, the Mar- quise de Kaigecourt, the Abbe de Lubersac, and others 33
CHAPTER in.
Madame ^Elisabeth's Life in the Tower of the Temple recorded only by her Niece, Marie-Therese de France, and by Cle'ry, Louis XVL's Valet. — Her Removal to the Conciergerie. — Her Examination, Condemnation, and Death 90
part ^econu.
JOURNAL OF THE TOWER OF THE TEMPLE, BY CLfiRY.
CHAPTER I.
The 10th of August, 1792. Cle'ry permitted to serve the King and his Family. — Life and Treatment of the Eoyal Family in the Tower
of the Temple Ill
1 Mem. Ver. 9
Vi CONTENTS.
CHAPTER II.
Pagk
Continuation of their Life and Treatment. — The King separated from
his Family, and summoned for Trial before the Convention ... 138
CHAPTER III.
The King's Trial. — His Will. —The Decree of the Conyention con- demning the King to Death. — Last Meeting with his Family. — Leaves the Temple for his Execution 175
part t\)itii*
NARRATIVE OF MARIE-TH:^R]fcSE DE FRANCE, DUCHESSE D'ANGOULfiME.
First Uprising of the Populace on the 5th and 6th of October, 1789. —
Removal of my Family to the Capital 210
Flight of my Father; his Stoppage at Varennes ; his Return to Paris 216
Assault on the Tuileries by the Populace, June 20, 1792 230
Massacre at the Tuileries ; Dethronement of my Father. — The Days
from the 10th to the 13th of August, 1792 . 236
Imprisonment of my Family in the Tower of the Temple, August 13, 1792, followed by the Trial and Martyrdom of my Father, January 21, 1793 243
Life in the Tower of the Temple from the Death of Louis XVL to that
of the Queen, October 16. 1793 259
Life in the Temple till the Martyrdom of Madame Elisabeth and the
Death of the Dauphin, Louis XVII., June 9, 1795 278
Brief sketch of the Life of Marie-Th^rfese until her death, October 18,
1851 .289
THE DUCHESSE D'ANGOULfiME.
Homage to the Duchesse d'Angouleme, by C.-A. Sainte-Beuve . . . 295
CONTENTS. VU
APPENDIXES.
Pagb I. Montreuil . • 311
II. First Examination of Madame Elisabeth by Fouquier-Tinville,
May 9, 1794 313
III. Extract from the Deliberations of the Commissioners of the
Commune on the Service of the Temple 317
IV. Signs agreed upon to make known to the Princesses the Progress
of the various Armies, etc.; and sundry Communications from Madame Elisabeth to M. Turgy 318
V. Louis XVI.'s Seal and Ring 323
INDEX 325
LIST OF PHOTOGRAVURE ILLUSTRATIONS.
Madame Elisabeth de France Frontispiece
By Mme. Vipee Le Brun ; Portraits Nalionaux.
Page Madame ^^lisabeth at Moxtreuil 20
By Richard ; Versailles.
LotJis XVI 80
By Duplessis; Versailles.
The Princesse de Lamballe 122
By Mme. Vigee Le Brun ; Maures du XIX Siecle.
The Dauphin and Madame Roy ale 18-^^
By Mme. Vigee Lo Bruu ; Versailles.
Madame Royale, Duchesse d'Axgoule'me 210' i^
By Danloux ; Vienna.
Queen Marie-Axtoinette leaving the Tribunal after her
Condemnation to Death 278
Paul Delaroclie.
Typogravures.
Fac-simile of a Fragment of Letter of Madame i5lisabeth . 87
Different Seals used by Madame Elisabeth and attached
TO HER Letters 89
The Tower of the Temple 125
Fac-simile op Signatures to Examination of Mme. Elisabeth 316
LIFE AND LETTERS
OF
Madame Elisabeth de France.
PART FIRST.
CHAPTER I.
Introductory. — Sketch of the Life of Madame iillisabeth from her Child- hood until August 10, 1792.
Many records of Madame filisabeth exist, but only two of real authority : the " filoge historique de Mme. Elisabeth de France," by Antoine Ferrand, minister of State and peer of France, first published in 1814 and again in 1861 ; and the " Vie de Madame Elisabeth," by M. A. de Beauchesne, Paris, 1869. Both works contain a number of her letters. From these volumes the following record has been made, chiefly in their own (translated) words. The parts selected are the simple historical facts of Mme. Elisabeth's story. The other parts may not be false, — far be it from us to say they are, — but they are so romantically tender as to convey a sense of extravagance, and thus do injury to the noble figure which the truth presents. For instance, it is recorded by her biog- raphers that as her head fell into the basket a perfume of roses was wafted over the Place Louis XV. The impression that we of the present day receive from such a statement is
2 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. i.
of folly and fulsome flattery ; yet the essential truth is in the simple facts, where the undying
actions of the just Smell sweet, and blossom in the dust.
This record of Madame Elisabeth is here followed by the " Journal of the Temple," %\Titten by Cldr}', the valet who at- tended on Louis XVI. to the last hour of his life, and by the far more valuable and even precious Narrative of that em- bodiment of sorrow, Marie-Th^rfese de France, daughter of Louis XVI. and Marie-Antoinette, and later Duchesse d'An- gouleme. There we see the end of the great French mon- archy (for the restored kings were not the monarchy). No one can read this series of Memoirs — Saint-Simon, d'Argen- son, Bernis — without realizing the causes of that mighty fall ; not to be found so much in the career of the Great Monarch as in the lowered standards he left behind him, the corruption of the regency, and the long reign of his great-grandson's vice and ineptitude which consolidated the wrongs of France.
One fact shines clear above this mass of evil ; and it is allowable to call the attention of the reader to it forcibly. Beside the enervating depravity of the Regent, the personal cowardice and sloth of Louis XV., the lack of firmness and regal assertion of Louis XVI. and his brothers, stands the splendid courage, physical and moral, of the three women whose ends are here recorded.
Elisabeth-Philippine-^Iarie-Hdlfene de France, daughter of the Dauphin Louis, son of Louis XV., and Marie-Josfephe de Saxe, was born at Versailles, May 3, 1764. Her three brothers, the Due de Berr}', the Comte de Provence, and the Comte d'Artois, were taken to the chapel on the same day, immediately after the king's mass, to witness her baptism, at which were present also the king and queen, the king's sis-
1792] MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE. 3
ters Mesdames Adelaide, Victoire, Sophie, and Louise, the Due d'Orl^ans, the Duo de Chartres, the Prince de Condd, the Prince and Princesse de Conti, the Due de Penthievre, the Prince de Lamballe, and others.
At her birth Madame Elisabeth was so delicate that for months her existence was a source of continual anxiety. Her father died the following year, and her mother, the wise and excellent Dauphine Marie- Josfephe, in 1767. The little orphan was then given wholly to the care of the Comtesse de Marsan (daughter of the Prince de Soubise), governess of the Children of France, who was already bringing up Elisa- beth's sister, Madame Clotilde de France, afterwards Queen of Sardinia, who was four years and eight months older than Elisabeth. The difference in character and temper was greater still. Clotilde was born with the happiest disposi- tion, which needed only to be encouraged and aided. Elisa- beth was very different ; it was often necessary to oppose her nature, and always to direct it. Proud, inflexible, passionate, she had defects to be mastered which would have been re- grettable in a lower rank ; in a princess of royal blood they were intolerable. The task of Mme. de Marsan was a diffi- cult one. Madame Elisabeth's self-will was powerful, proud of her birth, she exacted around her supple instruments of it ; she said she had no need to learn and tire herself use- lessly, inasmuch as princes had about them persons whose duty it was to think for them. She stamped with anger if one of her women did not immediately bring her the thing she asked for. The difference in the characters of the sisters made a difference in the feelings of their governess towards each. Jealousy came to increase the asperity of the younger sister's nature. "If Clotilde had asked you," she said, one day, when Mme. de Marsan had refused a request, " $he would have had it."
4 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. i.
But Elisabeth was taken ill, and Clotilda insisted on taking care of her. This illness developed between them feelings of the tenderest affection; Clotilde taught her little sister the alphabet and how to spell and form words, she gave her little counsels which tended to soften her character, and she inculcated in her the first notions of religion with which she was already nourishing her own soul.
Still, Mme. de Marsan felt the want of aid in seconding the reform in the child's nature which she had so much at heart to bring about, and she cast her eyes on Mme. de Mackau, whose husband had been minister of the king at Eatisbon. This lady was educated at Saint-Cyr, an estab- lishment which kept notes of not only the character and merits of its pupils, but followed their careers in the world for which it had formed them. It was from information thus derived that Mme. de Marsan asked the king to appoint Mme. de Mackau, who was li^dng in retirement in Alsace, as sub-governess. This choice proved to have aU the ele- ments required to work a happy change in the nature of a self-wiQed and haughty child. Mme. de Mackau possessed a firmness to which resistance yielded, and an affectionate kindness which enticed attachment. Armed with almost maternal power, she brought up the Children of France as she would have trained her own children ; overlooking no fault ; knowing, if need were, how to make herself feared ; all the while leading them to like \drtue. To a superior mind she added a dignity of tone and manners which in- spired respect. \Vlien her pupil gave way to the fits of haughty temper to which she was subject, Mme. de Mackau showed on her countenance a displeased gi-avity, as if to re- mind her that princes, like other persons, could not be liked except for their virtues and their good qualities. Distressed and disconcerted by this sudden and unexpected change,
1792] MADAME ELISABETH DE FEANCE. 5
Elisabeth, whose nature it was to be unable to feign or to hide whatever was passing in her soul, gave in this way a great advantage to her governess, quick to profit by the knowledge she thus gained of the child's inner feelings.
Little by little, Elisabeth yielded to wise and friendly management, and the defects which retarded her progress and prevented her from getting the advantages of her educa- tion gradually effaced themselves. Her wise governesses neglected nothing that could form her mind ; they ac- customed her to discuss questions with ease and without pedantry ; to pose an argument properly, to examine it with discernment, and to bring logic to bear upon it and solve it. As all progress is accomplished only by degrees, the young princess continued for some time to commit lier early faults. On euch occasions, becoming more and more rare, she met a stem look, a stiff manner ; and that simple show of displeas- ure was an efficacious correction. The proud and violent qualities changed, little by little, into firmness of principles, into a nobility and energy of feeling which made her in after years superior to the trials that filled her life.
Deprived of her parents and of the tenderest emotions of nature, her heart turned to fraternal love, which became from childhood her dominant passion. She cherished her three brothers, but a sort of predilection drew her to the Due de Berr}^, the Dauphin. Was it that she already felt he would be unhappy because he was fated to be king ? This tender- ness of heart, which had so far served to correct Elisabeth's defects, was destined to be the the source of her consolation, her courage, her sorrows, and her devotion.
About this time, on certain days, when serious study was over, a few young ladies of merit, of religious principles and good education, were admitted to the privacy of the young princesses. It was a circle created to utilize their leisure
6 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. i.
as well as to amuse it, to form tliera to the customs of the world, to teach them to express their ideas with grace and concision, to judge of things with accuracy, and state their judgments clearly. These meetings had the precious advan- tage of being recreations which, under youthful gayety and perfect modesty, initiated them unconsciously in that divin- ing tact, that knowledge of the world, so difficult to acquire, which consists in discerning at first sight the value of indi- viduals, in estimating the nature and dominant spirit of each society under whatever form it presents itself : in short, the tact of sagacity, which became in the end so trained in Elisa- beth that slie was rarely mistaken in the opinion she formed of persons or of the spirit of the society in which slie found herself. Madame Elisabeth seldom amused herself with frivolous talk, she was never really interested in a con- versation unless there was something to gain from it. Time was precious to her.
The Abb^ de Mont^gut, canon of Chartres, who was ap- pointed, in 1774, tutor to the Children of France, contributed to develop in Madame Elisabeth the religious sentiments which never left her in after life. He explained to her the Gospels as being both the school of duty and the source of consolations. She applied herself to their study with a penetration above her age. One might almost say that a secret inspiration warned her that she was destined to find there the best and first of knowledge. As her intelli- gence developed, those two precepts became deeply rooted in her. Religion seemed to her a chain of duties and conso- lations, the first link of which, attached in heaven, was ever drawing humanity towards its origin and its completion.
Mme. de Marsan, on her side, took her often to Saint-Cyr. That royal establishment, which bore the imprint of a saintly and majestic thought, awakened all the sympathies
1792] MADAME :fcLISABETII DE FRANCE. 7
of the young giii, who never left it without regret and promises to return.
Louis XV. died on the 10th of May, 1774, when Elisa- beth was ten years old, and the Due de Berry, the Dauphin and his wife, Marie-Antoinette, became King and Queen of France ; the first nineteen years of age, the second a year younger. That year and the next were passed by the young princesses in their secluded school life, but always accompanying the Court, whether at Versailles, Fon- tainebleau. Marly, Compi^gne, or La Muette. The following year Madame Elisabeth was confirmed and made her first communion, and the sisters were parted by the marriage of Clotilde to the Prince of Piedmont, afterwards King of Sar- dinia. No sensation of sorrow had as yet affected Elisabeth's heart ; her sister's departure was her first experience of it, and when the moment of separation came, she clung to her with such force that they were obliged to tear them apart. Queen Marie-Antoinette, wiiting a few days later to her mother, the empress, says : —
" My sister Elisabeth is a charming child, who has intelli- gence, character, and much grace ; she showed the greatest feeling, and much above her age, at the departure of her sister. The poor little girl was in despair, and as her health is very delicate, she was taken ill and had a very severe nervous attack. I own to my dear mamma that I fear I am getting too attached to her, feeling, from the example of my aimts, how essential it is for her happiness not to remain an old maid in this country."
It was on the 12th of i\lay, 1776, that Turgot and Male- sherbes, the two ministers whom the philosophical party, the " party of progress," had brought into power to effect reforms at the beginning of the new reign, quitted their ministry. " Ah ! " cried Louis XVI., as Malesherbes asked him to accept
8 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. i.
his resignation : " how fortunate you are ! would that I could get away also ! " It would take too long here to enter into public details which have not as yet a close connection with the life of Madame Elisabeth ; suffice it to say briefly, that all efforts at reform on the part of these ministers and the young monarch miscarried. The king's edicts which sup- pressed the corvee (forced labour) and abolished corporations and their privilege, were bitterly opposed in parhament ; and it required a lit de justice to enforce their registration. All attempts to reform the army made by the Comte de Saint- Germain, minister of war, and his auxiliary, M. de Guibert,^ also failed. With singular unwisdom they contrived to dis- please the officers and discontent the troops at the very moment when it was so necessary to be able to count upon the inviolable fidelity of the army.
Nothing, therefore, of all that was attempted succeeded well, and Louis XVI. began the second portion of his reign with vanished illusions and fears for the future.
On the 17th of May, 1778, the Court went to Marly. The king having determined to give his sister an establishment, she was on that day resigned into his hands by her then governess, the Princesse de Gu^m^n^e, and His Majesty gave her the Comtesse Diane de Polignac as lady of honour, with the Marquise de S^rent as lady-in-waiting. From that moment there was question of her marriage. Her hand seemed, in the first instance, destined to the Infant of Portugal, Prince of Brazil, who was the same age as herself and would eventually have brought her the title of queen. "\Miile she saw the conveniences of this alliance, Madame Elisabeth was far from wishing it, and though she personally put no obstacle in the way, she was comforted on learning that the negotiations were broken off.
^ The lover of Mile, de Lespinasse. — Tb.
1792] MADAME :feLISABETH DE FRANCE. 9
Shortly after, two other princes sought the honour of obtaining her hand. One was the Duke of Aosta, who was five years older than herself and could give her, in a neigh- bouring and friendly Court, a place on the steps of a throne beside her sister Clotilde; but the political pride of the government asserted that a secondary place at the Court of Sardinia was not becoming to a Daughter of France. Her third suitor was the Emperor Joseph II., brother of Marie- Antoinette, who on the occasion of his journey to France the preceding year had been struck by the vivacity of her mind and the sweetness of her nature. But the anti-Austrian party, which by that time (1783) prevailed at Court, where it had already sown around the queen distrust and hatreds, dreaded an alliance which might be contrary to its ascen- dancy, and set to work to prevent it. The intrigue succeeded. It was said, without grounds, that Madame Elisabeth felt some regret at this conclusion. The emperor had not yet shown in politics the eccentricities of his mind, and he had just lost a wife whose youth, virtues, and piety had won the love and benedictions of a whole people.^ But Madame Elisabeth, although she assuredly possessed all the qualities that fitted her for such an inheritance, seemed to attach no greater value to this union than to the other marriages with which policy had interfered.
As time went on, Madame Elisabeth strengthened herself perceptibly against the dangers of her nature, her age, and the Court ; she felt more and more what was lacking in her. Her efforts increased from her self-distrust, and the more she acquired higher qualities the less she knew herself capable of the perfection she sought to attain. It was this feeling
1 She wa6 the daughter of Madame Infanta Duchess of Parma, oldest twin daughter of Louis XV., consequently the first cousin of Madame Elisabeth. — Tk.
^^ LIFE AXD LETTERS OF r
[CHAP. I.
of hummty which gave to her speech an exquisite restraint
All the young girls who had been brought in contact with Madame Ehsabeth or had grown up with her, sharing^ r stud.es and her pleasures, gave her a warm and sinc^e d vot,on to them she was not the princess but the tten How lovable you are, my heart," she says in one place "to w.sh to orget that I am princess; nothing could te
th nL , Fnendship. you see, my BombeUes, is a second
lite, which sustains us in this low world "
Among these young girls were two or' three whom her heart diBtmguished specially, and with them she corrl sponded steadily to the last of her living life. One was Mile de Mackau, the daughter of the My to whor^ The owed so much, who was early married to L Mar,l d BombeUes, then ambassador to Portugal, and at the time o tl e Revolution ambassador to Venice. Another was MUe Mane de Causans, third daughter of the Marqlfde'
Madame Elisabeths establishn.ent was formed, as ladv of honour and superintendent of his sister's hous hold. Her
t r^ontf ;T ''"'™" "" ^"^■^"'^^^^^ " ^^'^' "i^o ^S lenr The , "" ™°^"^" *- •^'^<i''-e Elisabeth's estabUsh- ment. Ihe love between them became so strong that the pr.nce.ss dreading the moment nf ti,. ,,
her f1,ar,fer .1 "°"™' of "i« young girl's return to
in wS .: ; rT '° "'"" "^ "°^ °' ■■- "^ '"^-s-
n waiting, but the .Alarquise de Causans. although a widow
none of her four daughters should hold office at Court unless
e was married, and she turned a deaf ear to MadateEl !
abeths entreaties. Tlien a thought came to the princess;
Mem. T. „
> er. 9
1792] MADAME ifcLlSABETH DE FRANCE. 11
she went one morning to the queen and said in her coaxing, gentle way : " Promise to grant me what I am going to ask of you." The queen, before promising, wished to know the request, and a playful battle ensued. Finally Madame Elisa- beth yielded and said : " I want to give Causans a dot ; ask the king to advance me for five years the thirty thousand francs he always gives me as a New Year's gift." The queen very willingly took charge of the commission, and the king as willingly granted the request. The Marquis de Eaigecourt presented himself as a husband, and Louis XVI. appointed the young wife as lady-in-waiting to his sister. Her joy knew no bounds. For five years she received no presents, and when the matter was mentioned she would say, " I have no presents yet, but I have my Eaigecourt." The fifth year expired in 1789, but by that time public difficulties intervened, and the custom of years was given up.
A brother of Mme. de Eaigecourt, the Marquis de Causans, a member of the States General, was also a friend of Madame Elisabeth, who kept up a close correspondence with him on the events of the time. Her letters were said by him to contain very just and lofty conceptions on passing events, and especially on what was taking place in the Assembly. That collection of letters, in which the energy of her spirit and the penetration of her views were visible, it is said, on every page, was confided by the Marquis de Causans, at the time he was compelled to emigrate, to hands which he had every reason to consider peculiarly safe ; but it disap- peared in one of those cataclysms of which the revolutionary tornado produced so many examples.
Madame Elisabeth's letters to Mme. de Bombelles and Mme. de Eaigecourt, while somewhat cautious as to public affairs, nevertheless express, as we shall see later, a sound
2 Mem. Ver. 9
12 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. i.
and independent judgment on principles and passing events, and are the only personal revelation of her heart and mind which we possess before the black pall drops forever, on the 10th of August, 1792, between the family in the Temple and the world.
The domestic happiness which Madame Elisabeth now began to enjoy in her own little circle seems to have feigned in the palace of Versailles as well. Never before did the Court of France present such a sight : a young queen living in perfect harmony with two sisters-in-law of her own age, and a young king liking to lean on the friend- ship of his two brothers. " The greatest intimacy," says Mme. Campan, " existed between the three households [that of the king, that of Monsieur, the Comte de Provence, and that of the Comte d'Artois]. " They met together at meals, and ate apart only when their dinners were in public. This manner of family li\Tng lasted until the time when the queen allowed herself to dine occasionally with the Du- chesse de Polignac, but the evening meeting for supper was never interrupted, and it took place always in the apartments of the Comtesse de Provence. Madame Elisabeth took her place there as soon as she had finished her education, and sometimes Mesdames, the king's aunts, were ui\dted. This family intimacy, which had no precedent at Court, was the work of Queen Marie-Antoinette, and she maintained it with great perseverance."
The interests and pleasures of a young Court nevertheless gave rise to intrigues which at times divided the members of the royal family. The king and his brothers were each of different natures. Louis XYL, who possessed the virtues of an honest man, was far from having all those which are required in a king. His self-distrust was extreme. "While he was still dauphin, if a question arose that was difficult
1792] MADAME liLISABETH DE TRANCE. 13
to decide, "Ask my brother of Provence about that," he would say. Trustful in others, he surrendered his own will readily ; but if he discovered that any one deceived him he flew into fits of passion. He had neither firmness of char- acter nor grace of manner. Like certain excellent fruits with a knotty rind, his exterior was rough, but the heart perfect. Stern to himself alone, he kept the laws of the Church rigorously, abstained and fasted during the forty Lenten days, but thought it right that the queen should not imitate him. Sincerely pious, but trained to tolerance by the influence of the century in which he lived, he was also disposed, too disposed perhaps, to yield the prerogatives of the throne whenever the interests of his people were alleged to him ; forgetting that one of the first interests of a nation is the maintenance of a strong and incontestable power. A weak royalty is impotent both to do good and to prevent evil.
There was in Louis XVI. something honest which did not accept complete liability (solidarite^ for the preceding reign ; but, heir of a regime of which he bore the weight, he was ill at ease between a past which roused repugnance and a future, not threatening as yet, but full of doubts and mys- tery. Simple, economical, liking to read and study, seeking to forget his throne in the exercise of hunting or of manual labour, detesting women without virtue and men without con- science, he seems a stranger in his own Court, where morals were light and consciences easy. A young king, given to moderation and faithful to duty, regarding himself as the father of all Frenchmen, tut especially drawn to those who were weakest, could not be appreciated by courtiers, men for the most part frivolous and in debt, corrupters or corrupted, who regarded innovations as a danger and reforms as a crime.
The Comte de Provence, whose intellect and education
14 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. i.
were on a par, concealed beneath a prudent dignity his re- gret at not being put by fate in the first rank. Versed in the culture of letters, aided by a vronderful memory, he felt him- self, in a literary aspect, to be far superior to the king his brother. This sentiment was born in him from childhood. One day the Due de Berry, playing with his brothers, used ' the expression il pleuva. " What a barbarism ! " cried the Comte de Provence, "a prince ought to know his own tongue." " And you ought to hold yours," retorted the elder.
Monsieur took pleasure in the society of men of letters ; he endeavoured to explain to himself the source and inspiration of the new ideas that rose on the horizon, he prepared him- self for events that he might not be surprised by them ; he temporized with parties and united with none ; he lived with his brothers without dissensions and without confidence ; he toyed with opinion coldly ; and when the day came that un- fortunate arrangements made the king's departure a failure at Yarennes, he cleverly kept out of danger and reserved himself for the future.
The Comte d'Artois was a type of the Frenchman of the olden time ; careless in temperament, gay in mind, and with all the chivalrous graces. "Well made, choice in his toilet, adroit at all exercises of the body, he never appreciated grandeur except for the advantages it gave him, nor fortune except for the pleasures it procures. The manner in which he regarded women followed him even into the sanctuary. " Monseigneur," said the Bishop of Limoges on one occasion, " I have a favour to ask of your Eoyal Highness, — it is that you will not come to mass." Bom in a frivolous and vo- luptuous Court, he took tbe habits of it ; but his heart was generous, and that quality sur\-ived exile, a throne, and disaster.
It is easy to see how around three such princes men of
1792] MADAME I:LISABETH DE FRANCE. 15
different morals and ideas grouped themselves ; honest men were near Louis XVI., politicians near the Comte de Pro- vence, the frivolous and volatile near the Comte d'Artois. Thus the friends of the king were few, those of Monsieur numerous, those of the Comte d'Artois innumerable. The last had the pretension to think themselves directly under the patronage of the queen, who, lively and brilliant, wanted the pleasures of her age and took delight in the Comte dAr- tois, who amused her and whose tastes were somewhat like her own. The jealous and malignant spirit of a swarm of courtiers endeavoured to make a crime of the queen's liking for the gay young brother-in-law, but they have not suc- ceeded, to the eyes of history, in poisoning amusements wit- nessed by the whole Com-t, not to speak of the Comtesse d'Artois, whose affection for the queen remained unchanged.
Such was the interior of the palace of Versailles during the years which preceded the Eevolution. The princes and princesses of the blood seldom appeared there ; their tastes and habits were different. " Of the three branches of the House of Bourbon," said the old Mar^chal de Eichelieu, one day, " each has a ruling and pronounced taste : the eldest loves hunting ; the Orleans love pictures ; the Cond^s love war." " And Louis XVI.," some one asked, " what does he love ? " " Oh, he is different, he loves the people."
Except on occasions of formal etiquette, the absence from Court of the princes of the blood was noticeable. Exception must be made, however, of the Princesse de Lamballe, whose functions, as superintendent of the queen's household and her affection for the queen herself, kept her always at Court. The princes of the blood, whom the quarrels with parliament had thrown into the Opposition, considered it advisable to add to the privileges of their birth the advantages of popu- larity obtained by the so-called independence of their opin-
16 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. i.
ions. The time was coming when the great House of Bourbon was to weaken and condemn itself to impotence by the fall- ing apart of its sheaves.
Madame Elisabeth was now, at the age of fifteen, to find herself mistress of her actions, surrounded by the splendours of fortime, invited to share all pleasures, and observed by every eye. Wliat is liberty at that age if not release from study, amusement, toilet, jewels, and fetes ? Such was not the programme of the king's young sister. Her conscience took upon itself the duty of exercising the same control and watchfulness over her conduct that her governesses had just laid down. " My education is not finished," she said ; " I shall continue it imder the same rules; I shall keep my masters, and the same hours will be given to religion, the study of languages, belles-lettres, instructive conversations, and to my walks and rides on horseback." And she kept to all that she thus planned.
Her appearance at this time has been described and painted, although she herself had a great repugnance to sitting for her picture. Her figure was not tall, neither had her bearing that majesty which was so much admired in the queen ; her nose had the shape which is characteristic of the Bourbon face ; but her forehead with its pure lines giving to her counte- nance its marked character of nobleness and candour, her dark blue eyes with their penetrating sweetness, her mouth with its smile that showed her pretty teeth, and the expres- sion of intelligence and goodness that pervaded her whole person formed a charming and sympathetic presence.
It was at this time that she began to reflect on public affaii-s, and her first strong interest was in America. In spite of many difficulties, Louis XVI. had succeeded in mak- ing certain useful reforms in the interior of the kingdom. He abolished the corvee, substituting for it taxes in money ;
1792] MADAME ^LISABETH DE FRANCE. 17
he created in Paris the Mont-de-Piet^ (pawn or loan shops) and the Caisse d'Escompte ; he also calmed the public fear of bankruptcy by securing the payment of the Funds (rentes) on the Hotel-de-Ville. The first political event of his reign was the war of independence in America. By an act recently put forth, the English Parliament declared it " had the right to force the colonies to obey aU its laws and in all cases." It was this act, the execution of which destroyed the very shadow of freedom, which produced the American Kevolution.
The representatives of the future United States assembled and by a solemn act declared the inhabitants of the colonies free and independent and released from all relations with England. This Congress called religion to the support of the dawning liberty, and placed America beneath the immediate protection of Providence. That august dedication was made with great ceremony : a crown, consecrated to God, was placed upon the Bible ; and that crown was then divided into thirteen parts for the deputies of the thirteen prov- inces, and medals were struck to commemorate this event. All the women of the countr}-, at their head the wife of Washington, made themselves remarkable for their patriotic zeal ; acts of an ancient chivalry and heroism signalized this memorable war, the reading of which wrung tears of ad- miration and enthusiasm from Madame Elisabeth.
We cannot enter into the details of the great events that follow. Our troops were fortunate in this war as auxiliaries ; America threw off the British yoke and secured her inde- pendence, but our navy and that of Spain, our ally, suffered cruelly. This war, although it was, like all war, contrary to the feelings of humanity in Madame Elisabeth, nevertheless flattered her national pride, and made the sacrifices which ended in her brother's glory and that of the nation less pain- ful to bear. But what she especially noted with warm satis-
18 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. i.
faction throughout the struggle was the generous spirit that ruled it and sometimes lessened its e\41s. Thus she read with pleasure in a report, addressed November 26, 1781, to the minister of the na\y, by the Marquis de Bouill^, then governor of Martinique, that the French troops under his orders had, on seizing the island of Saint-Eustache, shown a spirit of justice and loyalty equal to their patience and courage.
" I found in the government house," writes M. de BouHl^, " the sum of a million sterling which was in sequestration, awaiting a decision of the court of London. It belonged to the Dutch ; and I made it over to them after obtaining authentic proofs of their ownership."
And again, in another report to the minister of the na\'y, Captain de la P^rouse, commanding a squadron of the king, writing on board the " Sceptre " in the Hudson straits, Sep- tember 6, 1782, says : —
" I took care, when burning the fort at York, to leave a rather considerable storehouse at a distance from the fire, in wliich I deposited provisions, powder, shot, guns, and a certain quantity of European merchandise, such as was suit- able to exchange with savages, in order that the English, who I know have taken refuge in the woods, may find, on their return to their old quarters, enough for their subsis- tence until the English authorities have been informed of their situation. I feel certain that the king will approve my conduct in this respect, and that in thus providing for those imfortunates I have only forestalled the benevolent inten- tions of His ^Majesty." Such facts as these were collected and told by Madame Elisabeth with delight.
In the year 1781 the king bought the property of the Princesse de Gudmdn^e, at Montreuil, which the wreck of her husband's fortunes did not allow her to retain. He aske4
1792] MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE. 19
the queen, to whom he had confided his project, to invite Elisabeth to go to Montreuil when they next drove out to- gether, and take her (with a purpose) into the house of her former governess, of which he knew his sister was very- fond. Delighted with the surprise she was to give to the young girl, Marie-Antoinette gave the invitation : " If you like," she said, " we will stop on our way at Montreuil, where you were so fond of going when a child." Elisabeth replied that it would be a great pleasure. On arriving, they found everything arranged to receive them, and as soon as they had entered the salon the queen said : " Sister, you are in your own house. This is to be your Trianon. The king, who gives himself the pleasure of giving it to you, gives me the pleasure of telling you."
The brotherly inspiration of Louis XVI. was not at fault. This gift became to Madame Elisabeth a source of infinite enjoyment ; for from this moment she was able to associate her dearest friends familiarly with her daily existence, and escape from the pomps of Court whenever her duty did not require her presence there. Madame Elisabeth was born for private intimacy ; lively, confiding, and expansive in her familiar circle of a few friends, she was timid, reserved, and even embarrassed, not only in the queen's salons, but in her own, surrounded by all her ladies. It was therefore to her a source of the keenest enjoyment, or rather of happi- ness, to have this private home of her own with its rural delights.
The park and mansion, of which she now took possession, was near the barrier at the entrance to Versailles on the road to Paris. The park itself was of twelve acres, charmingly di- versified with greensward and trees, and with shrubbery paths among the copses in all directions. A large section of the property Madame Elisabeth presently devoted to a cow-
20 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. i.
pasture, dairy, vegetable and fruit gardens, and a poultry-yard. In the middle of a lawn, shaded with trees and shrubs and brightened with beds of flowers, stood the house, the peri- style of which was supported by four marble columns. The first act of the young proprietor was to give a small house on the estate to Mme. de Mackau, whose permanent home it became.
The king decided that until Madame Elisabeth had reached her twenty-fifth year (she was now eighteen) she should not sleep at Montreuil ; but as soon as she was put in possession of her dear domain she passed the entire day there, and was only at Versailles in the evening and at night, or for occasions of ceremony. She heard mass in the morning in the Chapel of the Chateau, and immediately after it went with certain of her friends in a carriage, or on horseback, an exercise of which she was very fond, or sometimes on foot to Montreuil. The life she led there was uniform, like that of a family in some coimtry chateau a hundred leagues from Paris. Hours for study, work, and rambles, either alone or with friends, occupied her time; the dinner-hour brought them all together around the same table.
Little by little her occupations increased. She laid out her farm, her duury, her kitchen-gardens and poultry-yard, and became herself the farmer of the place ; she loved all rural interests. She had an overseer, to whom she gave full authority under herself ; and this man and those under him fulfilled her orders with such care and assiduity that no dis- putes and no complaints ever troubled that happy solitude.
But Madame Elisabeth was not satisfied with her own en- joyment of the place. Soon she became the friend and providence of the neighbouring village and its environs. She knew all the inhabitants personally ; their interests became hers; young girls were dowered and married, the old
1792] MADAME IlLISABETH DE FRANCE. 21
and the worthy were cared for, the sick were nursed and doctored. The milk of her dairy went to the children, the vegetables and fruits to the sick ; often she could be seen at- tending to the distribution herself. All this was not done without personal sacrifice. Her means were comparatively- small ; she had only the pension which she received as sister of the king, but she eked it out by economy, — economy on herself, be it said. " Yes, that is very pretty," she replied, when urged to buy a jewel which she fancied, " but with that money I could set up two little homes." Various other anecdotes of this kind have come down to us, but Madame Elisabeth herself frowned on any notice being taken of such deeds. On one occasion, when the Bishop of Alais made her a fulsome speech of admiration, she said, blushing, that he judged her far too favourably. " Madame," he replied, " I am not even on the level of my subject." " You are right," she said, with a certain little sarcasm that was all her own; " you are very much above it."
One pleasure which she derived from her new way of liv- ing was that of seeing her brothers with greater freedom. Monsieur would often drive out to Montreuil and spend hours with her. " My brother, the Comte de Provence," she said one day, "is the most enlightened of advisers. His judgment on men and things is seldom mistaken, and his vast memory supplies him with an inexhaustible source of interesting anecdotes." The society of the Comte d'Artois gave her interests of another kind. More sensible than he, she often permitted herself to lecture him. Gay and heed- less, he laughed at her advice, but as he advanced in life he began to love her with a tenderness mingled with vener- ation, a feeling which increased as misfortunes closed down upon them. After he had left France, those about him could guess when he received a letter from her ; emotion showed
22 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. i.
on his features and his hands trembled as he opened it. Eeciprocal afiection between a brother and sister was never keener, truer, or more expansive.
Madame Elisabeth's relation to Louis XYI. was of still another character. They both seemed aware that she was, and would be, necessary to him. She liked to visit her aunt Louise, the Carmelite nun at Saint-Denis. The king became uneasy at the frequency of these visits. " I am very will- ing," he said to her one day, " that you should go and see your aunt, but only on condition that you will not imitate her. Elisabeth, I netd you" Her heart had told her that already, and the time was swiftly approaching when she obeyed the inward call and gave up her life to him.
Thus flowed the days of the happy young princess until the terrible winter of 1788-89, when the sufferings of the poor exhausted her means and made her run in debt to advance to the starved and frozen people what she called " their revenue." Her letters show that already she foresaw, and rightly, the public troubles that were soon to appear. She knew the character of the king ; she believed that his impolitic action on the 8th of May, 1788, could end only LQ the recall of the parliament, of M. Necker, and the con- vocation of the States-General. In a letter of hers dated June 9, 1788, she says : " The king returns upon his steps, as did our grandfather. He is always afraid of being mis- taken; his first impulse passed, he is tormented by a fear of doing injustice. ... It seems to me," she continues, " that it is in government as it is in education : one should not say / ivill, unless one is sure of being right ; then, once said, nothing should be given up of what has been ordained." Madame Elisabeth would fain have had the king take that principle as his rule of conduct, and she foresaw the evils that his kindness and his weakness would produce. "I
1792]
MADAME :fcLISABETH DE FRANCE.
23
see a thousand things," she says, " which he does not even suspect, because his soul is so good that intrigue is foreign to it." The note of foreboding, not, perhaps, fully compre- hended by her own mind, is in much that she says and writes at this period. Instinctively she turns to the support of her life — to the spirit of faith — and we find her in- most thoughts in a prayer to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, written at this time and given to Mme. de Eaigecourt, the manuscript of which, in her own handwriting, is preserved in the Biblioth^que Nationale : —
" Adorable heart of Jesus, sanctuary of the love that led God to make himself man, to sacrifice his life for our salva- tion, and to make of his body the food of our souls : in gratitude for that infinite charity I give you my heart, and with it all that I possess in this world, all that I am, all that I shall do, all that I shall suffer. But, my God, may this heart, I implore you, be no longer unworthy of you ; make it like unto yourself ; surround it with your thorns and close its entrance to all ill-regulated affections ; set there your cross, make it feel its worth, make it willuig to love it. Kindle it with your divine flame. May it bum for your glory ; may it be all yours, when you have done what you will with it. You are its consolation in its troubles, the remedy of its ills, its strength and refuge in temptation, its hope during life, its haven in death. I ask you, 0 heart so loving, the same favour for my companions. So be it."
" Aspiration.
" 0 divine heart of Jesus ! I love you, I adore you, I invoke you, with my companions, for all the days of my life, but especially for the hour of my death.
0 vere adorator et unice amator Dei, miserere nobis. Amen"
M LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. i.
It was on the 5th of October, 1789, the day when the Parisian mob of men and women marched to Versailles and compelled the king to take the fatal step of going to Paris, that Madame Elisabeth was suddenly, without warning, hurried from her dear IMontreuil, never to enter it again. From the terrace of her garden she saw the first coming of the populace, and, mounting her horse, she rode to the palace. The king was out hunting, but messengers had gone for him, and when he returned she urged him to stand firm against this vanguard of anarchy, saying that a vigorous and immedi- ate repression would avert great future evils, and advising with true instinct that if the royal family left Versailles at all, it should be for a town at a distance from Paris, where loyal men could rally to the king and enable him to break through the tyranny that the factions were beginning to exercise.
For a moment he seemed to listen to her and to the coun- sels of M. de Saint-Priest, minister of the interior, whose opinions agreed entirely with hers. But his firmness gave way before the views of M. Necker, and he consented to negotiate, as power to power, with the rioters. Prompted by its leaders, the mob demanded that the king should instantly fix his residence in Paris, and M. de la Fayette sent message after message urging him to comply. Madame Elisabeth expressed her contrar}' opinion : " It is not to Paris, Sire, that you should go. You have still devoted battalions and faithful guards to protect you. I implore you, my brother, not to go to Paris."
The king, pulled this way and that by conflicting opin- ions, hesitated too long ; the moment for resistance went by ; the troops, indignant at a thoughtless neglect of them, lost ardour, and the king, without initiative, without will, deferred to the clamour of the multitude and gave his promise to
1792] MADAME :fcLISABETH DE FRANCE. 25
depart. As the miserable procession passed Montreuil, Madame Elisabeth bent forward in the carriage to look at the trees of her dear domain. " Are you bowing to Montreuil, sister ? " asked the king. " Sire, I am bidding it farewell," she answered gently.
From this time she shared the captivity — for such it was — of her brother and his family. At first a semblance of social life was kept up at the Tuileries. The Princesse de Lamballe tried to gather a society about her, and the queen for a while appeared at her assemblies ; but confidence and safety were gone ; this last effort of gayety, begun by the princess to brighten the queen's life, ceased, and the royal family took up a system of liviug which they followed ever after, even in the Temple. During the mornings the queen and Madame Elisabeth superintended the lessons of Madame Koyale and the dauphin, and worked at large pieces of tapestry. Their minds were too preoccupied by the events of the day, the perils of the present and the threats of the future, to allow them to read books, as they did later in the awful silence and monotony of the Tower; needlework be- came their sole distraction. Mile. Dubuquois, who kept a shop for wools and tapestries, long preserved and exhibited a carpet made by the two princesses for the large room of the queen's apartment on the ground floor of the Tuileries.
During this time Madame Elisabeth continued whenever the opportunity came to her to urge the king to assert him- self and firmly maintain his power and the monarchy. When M. de Favras was executed (February 19, 1790) and the king did not, or could not, interfere to save him, she exclaimed in the bitterness of her heart : " They have killed Favras because he tried to save the king, and the days of October 5th and 6th remain unpunished ! Oh, if the king would only be king, how all would change ! " She saw with
26 LITE AND LETTERS OF [chap. i.
dread the coming crisis which, breaking the lines of govern- ment, would render the king's will impotent and repression impossible. This conviction appears in many details of her life. Noticing that one of her ladies looked attentively into the garden of the Tuileries (May, 1791), she asked what attracted her attention. " Madame, I am looking at our good master, who is walking there." "Our master!" she exclaimed. " Ah ! to our sorrow, he is that no longer."
The queen shared the anxiety that the king's weakness inspired in Madame Elisabeth, but she had a hope which Madame Elisabeth did not share. She was convinced that the safety of the royal family and the French monarchy would be undertaken by Austria, and that some efficacious succour would come from that direction, without her making any appeal for it. This was attributing to her brother and the cabinet of Vienna a generosity they were far from hav- ing, and admitting a hope which her enemies were not slow in turning into a crime.
It should here be remarked that Madame Elisabeth judged the politics of the European cabinets with severity. She was very far from approving the official advice and crafty insinu- ations which made their way to Queen Marie-Antoinette. Having a profound aversion for all that did not seem to her upright, just, and straightforward, she was convinced that the secret proceedings of the Comte de Mercy — " that fox," as she called him — would prove fatal; but being without power to combat that influence, she could only pity Marie-Antoi- nette for enduring it, and for lending an ear to counsels which, without serving the family welfare, compromised, in her opinion, the stability of her brother's throne. To be just, we must here remark that Madame Elisabeth had been brought up, like all the princesses of the House of France, to distrust Austria. The same feelings could not be expected
i
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1792] MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE. 27
of the daughter of Maria Theresa. Equitable history will recognize that Marie-Antoinette never dreamed of sacrificing France to her native country ; but she did hope and believe that the alliance with the House of Austria, of which her marriage had been a pledge, would serve the interests of the two nations, and be a support to the French monarchy now shaken to its foundations.
The day came at last when Louis XVI., goaded by his vir- tual captivity and exposed to the virulent actions of the clubs as well as to the monstrous insults of the street populace, attempted to recover power. He resolved to leave Paris and raise his standard elsewhere in France, thus following, on the 20th of June, 1791, the advice his sister had given him October 5, 1789.
The story of the escape from Paris and the stoppage at Varennes is too fully told elsewhere to repeat it here. Ma- dame Elisabeth makes only brief allusion to it in her letters of that date. After their return to Paris M. de la Fayette, ap- pointed by the National Assembly governor of the Tuileries and keeper of the king and royal family, offered to allow Madame Elisabeth to leave the kingdom. This she refused to accept, and that decision sealed her fate. Nevertheless, she shuddered as she contemplated with clear eyes the posi- tion of the king and queen, deprived of all military support, reduced to beg their friends to go away from them, isolated henceforth on a throne without power, captives in a palace which was really a prison, and forbidden the last right of misfortime, that of complaint. She saw that in vain the king had sacrificed his prerogatives, given up his rights, abandoned his honours ; the factions by this time disputed even his right to think, and measured out to him and his family the very air they breathed. Madame Elisabeth made
herself no illusions as to the projects of the anarchists ; on 3 Mem. Ver. 9
28 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. i.
the 20th of June, 1792, the anniversar}^ of the capture at Varennes, they justified her fears.
She relates the events of that day in a letter, omitting, however, certain acts of her own which redound to her glory. As the king left his family to face the mob, she followed him, and darting through the door, which was instantly locked behind her, she placed herself beside him as he stood on a table which the pressure of the mob had forced him to mount with the bonnet rouge upon his head. The populace took her for the queen and threatened her. " Do not unde- ceive them," she said. There she remained for several hours, exposed to the vilest insults. Once when a bayonet almost touched her breast, she turned it aside with her hand, saying : " Take care, monsieur, you might wound me, and I am sure you would be sottj for that."
A woman of the people, speaking the next day of the fail- ure of the attack, said : " We could do nothing ; they had their Sainte Genevieve with them," giving her the name the fish-wives applied to her as the carriage entered Paris on the fatal 5th of October, the last day of the French monarchy.
It was on the day following this 20th of June, that Louis XVI. wrote to his confessor : " Come and see me this even- ing, I have done with men ; I can now concern myself only with heaven."
In spite of the vast emigration of nobles and gentlemen who abandoned their country and their king from the time of the first revolutionary alarms in 1789, — which has been, perhaps, too much condoned by history in view of their great misfortunes, — a few faithful men remained in Paris after June 20th, resolved to save the king and his family if it were still possible. They knew that the attack of June 20th was an organized blow, missed for the moment, but certain to be repeated. As early as the morning of the
1792] MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE. 29
7 th of August they had precise information as to what was to happen on the 10th, and they formed a definite plan for the rescue of the royal family. Malouet, in his " Memoirs of the Constituent Assembly," of which he was a member, gives a clear account of this.
Even the Constitutional party, alarmed at the rapidity with which the Revolution was rushing towards anarchy, was ready to rally to the king, and would have supported any action that removed him from Paris and placed him with the army ; it was even proposed among them to bring a division under General de la Fayette to Compifegne to favour the escape of the royal famUy. This plan, conceived as early as May, 1792, failed, owing to the king's incurable distrust of the constitutionals and his remembrance that to them he owed the failure at Varennes. Malouet says : —
" M. de la Fayette, who now judged the state of things more soundly than he did at the beginning of the Revolution, was sincere in his desire to devote himself to the king and the Constitution, after having contributed to put them in great peril He was sure of his army and that of his colleague Luckner, if the king decided to put himself at their head. He came to Paris in May to make the proposal, and as he knew the king had confidence in me he asked me to meet him,"
Louis XVI. rejected this proposal, and Malouet adds: " AVTiatever were the desires, the hopes of the royal family, nothing justifies the imprudence of the king in isolating himself without defence in the midst of his enemies, and in not being willing, or not knowing how, to rally to himself a national party. . . . Can it be believed that the king, whose judgment was accurate, that the queen, who did not lack enlightenment or courage, that Madame Elisabeth, who had much of both, should have willingly reduced themselves
30 LTPE AND LETTERS OF [chap. i.
in the midst of the greatest dangers to complete inaction ? ... I do not doubt that the security and hopes of the queen and Madame Elisabeth fastened themselves on help from the foreign Powers, which the king never invited ex- cept with much circumspection and always in hopes of avert- ing a national war. These tentatives were as inconsequent as all else that he did. There was nothing precise, nothing complete in his plan ; the secret powers given to the Baron de Breteuil were only contingent; more vague than un- limited, they appealed neither to the foreign armies, nor to the great body of emigres assembled on the frontier ; they simply tended to the mediation of the allies of France."
Meantime the crisis was approaching. The 5th of October and the 20th of June foretold it; on the 10th of August it came. There is comfort in feeling that a few generous hearts remained in Paris watching for a chance to save the royal family even at the last moment. Malouet was one of them, and he thus tells of their final effort, their forlorn hope : —
" M. de Lally [ToUendal]," he says, " came frequently to our meetings at the house of M. de Montmorin with MM. de Malesherbes, Clermont-Tonnerre, Bertrand, la Tour-du- Pin, Sainte-Croix, and Gouvernem- Morris, envoy of the United States, for whom the king had a liking, and who gave His Majesty (but as uselessly as the rest of us) the most vigorous advice. It was on the 7th of August that we dined together for the last time. Our conference had for its object to attempt a fresh effort to carry off, by means of the Swiss Guard, the royal family and take them to Pontoise. Being fully warned in detail of all the preparations for the 10th of August, we had been assembled in consultation ever since the morning at M. de Montmorin's. He had written to the king informing him of everything, and saying that
1792] MADAME ^LISABETH DE FRANCE. 31
now there could be no holding back ; that we should be the next morning before daylight, to the number of seventy, at the royal stables, where the order must be given to have saddle-horses ready for us ; that the National Guard of the Tuileries, commanded by Acloque, would aid our expedition ; that four companies of the Swiss Guard would start at the same hour from Courbevoie and come to meet the king ; that we ourselves should escort him to the Champs-filys^es and put him in a carriage with his family. The bearer of the letter came back without reply. M. de Montmorin went at once to the king. Madame Elisabeth informed him that the insurrection would not take place ; that Santerre and Potion had pledged themselves to that ; that they had received seven hundred and fifty thousand francs to prevent it and to bring the Marseillais over to the king's side. The king was none the less anxious and agitated, though fully de- cided not to leave Paris. . . , He said he preferred to ex- pose himself to all dangers than begin civil war."
This is not the place to relate the public events of those days, so well known, with their causes and actors, to history ; sujffice it to say that the plan which miscarried June 20th was carried out on the 10th of August, when the king was persuaded, against the will of his wife and sister, to seek refuge in the National Assembly, while the Swiss Guard, believing he was still in the palace, fought to defend him and were butchered to a man. " Nail me to that wall," said Marie-Antoinette, "if I consent to go."
But before this day Madame Elisabeth had abandoned hope ; she no longer sought to arm the king with courage ; the lines of her face, and the look from her eyes now said, " Eesignation," and such was her history from that moment. Her last letter bore date August 8, 1792, — two days before the fatal 10th ; in it she spoke of the " death of the execu-
32 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. i.
tive power," adding, " I can enter into no details." The last glimpse we have of her as a comparatively free woman on her way through the Tuileries to the National Assembly, is given by M. de La Kochef oucauld, in his unpublished Memoirs : -
" They issued," he says, " by the centre door [of the Tuile- ries]. M. de Baehmann, major of the Swiss Guard, came first through two ranks of his soldiers. M. de Poix followed him at a little distance, walking immediately before the king. The queen followed the king, leading the dauphin by the hand. Madame Elisabeth gave her arm to Madame the king's daughter ; the Princesse de Lamballe and Mme. de Tourzel followed. I was in the garden, near enough to offer my arm to Madame de Lamballe, who was the most dejected and frightened of the party ; she took it. The king walked erect ; his countenance was composed, but sorrow was painted on his face. The queen was in tears ; from time to time she wiped them and strove to take a confident air, which she kept for a while ; nevertheless, having had her for a moment on my arm, I felt her tremble. The dauphin did not seem much frightened. Madame Elisabeth was calm, resigned to aU; it was religion that inspired her. She said to me, looking at the ferocious populace : ' All those people are misguided ; I wish their conversion, but not their punishment.' The little Madame wept softly. Madame de Lamballe said to me, * We shall never return to the Chateau.' "
The Tower of the Temple, that historical purgatory of the royalty of France, is now to be the last scene and witness of the virtues of Madame Elisabeth ; and it is also to witness a transformation in the character of its chief captive. Louis XVI., no longer feeble and irresolute, blundering and inert, becomes a patient, tranquil man, brave unto death, with charity to all, a true Cliristian, the innocent expiator of the crimes and faults of other reigns.
1786] MADAME IlLISABETH DE FRANCE. 33
CHAPTEE 11.
Letters of Madame Elisabeth to the Marquise de Bombelles, the Marquise de Raigecourt, the Abbe de Lubersac, and others, from 1786 to August 8th, 1792.
To the Marquise, de Bomhelles.
September, 1786. I possess in the world two friends, and they are both far away from me. That is too painful ; one of you must posi- tively return. If you do not return, I shall go to Saint-CjT without you, and I shall still further avenge myself by mar- rying our lyroUgee without you. My heart is full of the hap- piness of that poor girl who weeps with joy — and you not there ! I have visited two other poor families without you. I pray to God without you. But I pray for you, for you need his grace, and I have need that he should touch you — you who abandon me ! I do not know how it is, but I love you, nevertheless, tenderly. Elisabeth-Marie.
November 27, 1786.
You see that I obey you, my child, for here I am again. You spoil me ; you write to me punctually ; that gives me pleasure, but I am afraid it may give you a headache. I preach against my interests, for I am very happy when I see your handwriting ; I love you, but I love your health better than all. You say that Eontainebleau has not spoilt me ; I like to believe it. Perhaps you will think that rather vain- glorious, but I assure you, my heart \mon coe,ur\, that I am very far from thinking I can remain good ; I feel I have very much to do to be good according to God. The world judges
34 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii.
lightly ; on a mere nothing it gives us a good or a bad repu- tation. Not so with God ; he judges us internally ; and the more the outward imposes, the sterner he will be to the in- ward. ... I have been at Montreuil since nine o'clock, the weather is charming. I have walked about with Eaigecourt for an hour and three-quarters. Mme. Albert de Eioms is coming to dine with me, so that my letter cannot be long.
March 15, 1787.
You ask me, my friend, how I pass my time ; I shall an- swer : Eather sadly, because I see many thiugs that grieve me. The famous Assembly of Notables has met. What will it do ? Nothing, except make known to the people the criti- cal situation in which we are. The king is sincere in asking then- advice. Will they be the same in givi-Ug it ? I think not. I have little experience, and the tender interest I take ?n my brother alone induces me to concern myself with these subjects, much too serious for my nature. I do not know, but it seems to me they are taking a course directly the op- posite of that they ought to take. ... I have a presenti- ment that all will turn out ill As for me, if it were not for my attachment to the king I would retire to Saint-Cyr. In- trigues fatigue me; they are not in accordance with my nature. I like peace and repose ; but it is not at the mo- ment when my brother is vmfortunate that I will separate from him.
The queen is very pensive. Sometimes we are hours to- gether alone without her saying a word. She seems to fear me. Ah ! who can take a keener interest than I in my
brother's happiness ?
April 9, 1787.
M. de Calonne was dismissed yesterday ; his malversation was so proved that the king decided upon it ; I do not fear
1787] MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE. 35
to tell you the extreme joy I feel, which is shared by every one. He is ordered to remain at Versailles until his suc- cessor is appointed, so as to render him an account of affairs and of his projects. One of my friends said to me some time ago that I did not like him, but that I should change my opinion before long. I don't know if his dismissal will contribute to that ; he would have to do a good many things before I could change in regard to him. He must feel a little anxious about his fate. They say his friends put a good face upon it ; but I believe the devil loses nothing and that they are far from being satisfied. It was M. de Mont- morin who gave him his dismissal. I hoped the Baron de Breteuil would not take that upon himself; it does him honour not to have done so.^
The Assembly continues as before and with the same plans. The Notables talk with more freedom (though they have never cramped themselves in that), and I hope good may come of it. My brother has such good intentions, he desires the right so much and to make his people happy, he has kept himself so pure, that it is impossible God should not bless his good qualities with great successes. He did his Easter duties to-day. God will encourage him, God will show him the right way : I hope much. The preacher in his address encouraged him immensely to take counsel of his own heart. He was right, for my brother is very good and very superior to the whole Court united.
1 The Baron de Breteuil, then minister of the king's household and of the department of Paris, had been the representative of the king towards the Elector of Cologne, Catherine IL, Empress of Russia, Gustavus III., King of Sweden, and the Emperors Joseph II. and Leopold. In the yarious phases of his career he had won the esteem of all honourable men. — Fr. Ed. He was later sent by Louis XVI. to negotiate measures with all the European Powers for the rescue of the king and his family and the restora- tion of the monarchy. See Diary and Corr. of Count Fersen, of the present Hist. Series. — Ts.
36 LIFE AKD LETTERS OF [chap, ih
I am at Montreuil since midday. I have been to vespers in the parish church. They were quite as long as they were last year, and your dear vicar sang the 0 Jilii in a manner quite as agreeable. Des Escars expected to burst out laugh- ing, and I the same.
I am in despair at the sacrifice you make me of your mon- key, and all the more because I cannot keep it ; my Aunt Victoire has a dread of those animals and would be angry if I had one. So, my heart, in spite of all its graces and of the hand that gives it to me, I must relinquish it. If you like, I will send it back to you ; if not, I will give it to M. de Gu^mdn^e. I am in despair, I feel it is very churlish, that it will vex you very much, and so I am all the more sorry. What consoles me is that you would have had to get rid of it soon on account of your children, because it might become dangerous.
Your philosophy enchants me, my heart; you will be happier, and you know how I desired you to be that. I do
not understand why you say that M. de C [Mar^chal de
Castries] is a bad politician ; they seem to me well satisfied with him ; he has done rather fine things, and M. de S^gur has just committed the most egregious blunder in accom- panying the Empress Catherine on her journey to the Crimea. She is terribly restless, that good lady, which displeases me much. I am a partisan of repose.^
June 25, 1787. The queen is very kind to me just now; we are going together to Saint-Cyr, which she calls my cradle. She calls Montreuil my little Trianon. I have been to hers the last few days with her, without any consequences, and there was no attention she did not show me. She prepared for me one
^ Roe the account of this journey in the Memoirs of the Prince de Ligne Tol. T. of this Hist. Series. — 'Tn.
1788] MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE. 37
of those surprises in which, she excels ; but what we did most was to weep over the death of my poor little niece [Madame Sophie de France, daughter of Louis XVI., who died an infant] . . . .
I am in a state of enchantment at the enormous gratuity they have given you. I am afraid the king will ruin himself with such liberalities. If I were your husband I would leave it with M. d'Harvelay to prove to M. de Vergennes that you demand more because you have an actual need of it ; let him see it is to pay your debts for the embassy, and that as he gives you so little on account, when you get more you will have to employ it in the same way. I began by reading M. de Vergennes' letter first, thinking I was to see superb things, and I was rather shocked. However, after reflecting upon it well, I believe it is not ill-will on his part, but being obliged to give gratuities for the f^tes, he is hampered and is forced to diminish this one.
Adieu, my heart. I hope your medicine will do you good. Try to calm yourself.
June 6, 1788.
The king returns upon his steps, just as our grandfather did. ... It seems to me that government is like education. We should not say / will until we are sure of being right. But once said, there should be no yielding of what has been ordained.
I think that my sister-in-law would act thus ; but she does not yet know the soul of my brother, who fears always to make a mistake, and who, his first impulse over, is tormented by the dread of doing injustice. You will see that the parlia- ment will be recalled within six months, and with it Necker and the States-General ; that is an evil we shall not escape, and I wish they had been convoked a year ago that we might have them over and done with. Instead of that everybody
38 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii.
wrangles and all are getting embittered. What the king does from clemency they will say he does from fear, for they will not do him the justice he deserves. As for me, who read bis heart, I know well that all his thoughts are for the welfare of his people. But he would make that more sure by isolating himself less from his nobles. He is advised to the contrary. God grant he may never repent it ! I dare not speak to him openly about many things that I see and that he does not suspect because his soul is so fine that intrigue is foreign to it. Ah ! why cannot I get away and live as I like!
To Mile. Marie de Causans}
March, 1789.
Yes, certainly, my heart, I will write to you before you enter the novitiate ; but I hope that you will not be forbidden to receive letters afterwards. It is true that we shall be hampered by the inspection of a mistress, but that will not prevent me from saying to you what I think. You will per- haps be astonished, my heart, when I tell you that in spite of all the reflections, consultations, and tests that you have made, I am not yet sufficiently convinced of the solidity and reality of your vocation to escape a fear that you have not reflected duly. In the first place, my heart, we cannot know whether a vocation is really the work of God until, with a desire to follow his wlQ, we have nevertheless com- bated, in good faith, the inclination which leads us to con- secrate ourselves to him; otherwise, we run the risk of deceiving ourselves, and of following a transient fervour that is often only a need of the heart which, having no objects of attachment, thinks to save itself from the danger of forming
1 The third daughter of Mme. de Cauaans, and next younger sister of Mme. de Raigecourt. The Revolution, which broke up the convents, prevented her from becoming a nun. — Tr.
•1789] MADAME :ELISABETH DE FRANCE. 39
any that Heaven may disapprove by consecrating itself to God. That motive is praiseworthy, but it is not sufficient; it comes from passion, it comes from the desii'e and need of the heart to form a tie which shall fill it, for the moment, wholly. But, I ask you, my heart, will God approve of that offering ? can he be touched by the sacrifice of a soul that gives itself to him only to rid itself of responsibility ? You know that in order to make any vow of any kind we must have a free, reflecting will, devoid of all species of passion ; it is the same in making the religious vows, and even more essential. The world is odious to you ; but is that disgust or regret ? Do not think that if it is the latter your vocation is true or natural. No, my heart. Heaven sent you a tempta- tion ; you ought to bear it, and not take a resolution to con- secrate yourself to God until it has passed.
Secondly, my heart, we must have our minds humbled before taking the engagements you wish to take. This is the essential thing, the true vocation. All that concerns the body costs little, one can get used to that ; but not so with all that belongs to the mind and heart. . . .
If d'Ampurie [her younger sister] is not married within three years, and is obliged to go to her Chapter, can you trust to her eighteen years and believe that she will always lead a virtuous and decorous life, that she will never need the counsel of a friend, of a sister who stands in place of her mother, and for whom she has all the feelings of a daughter ? Do you think that in abandoning her to herself you fulfil the most sacred duty you have ever had to fulfil, — that to a dying mother who reHed upon you, who chose you as the one most fitted to replace her, a mother who would certainly not have abandoned her children to the seductions of the world that she might yield to a taste for retreat and devotion which she would never have thought incumbent upon her ?
40 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. n.
No, my heart, it will be impossible for me to think that you fulfil youi' duty, that you accomplish the will of God by consecrating yourself to him at this time. In the name of that God you seek to serve in the most perfect manner, con- sult with others once more ; but, my heart, let it be with more enlightened persons, persons who have no interests either for or against the course you wish to take ; explain to them your position ; let yourself be examined in good faith ; you would be as wrong to exaggerate your desire as to conceal it. . . .
Eeassure me, my heart, by telling me the tests to which you have put yourself. I do not speak of those of the body; those are absolutely null to me because they belong to mere habits ; but have you struggled against your vocation ? have you felt perfectly calm and free from all pains of mind ? are you sure it is not from excitement that you give yourself to God ? . . . Do not suppose, my heart, that a convent is exempt from e\'ils in the eyes of a nun ; the more perfect she may be, the more she wiU want to find the same sentiments in others, and you will not be safe from that temptation, for, I admit, it is one. There are very few convents in which charity reigns sufficiently for that fault to be un- known there.
Nevertheless, my heart, in whatever position you find yourself, rely upon my friendship and the keen interest that I feel in you, and speak to me with confidence of all that touches you. I dare to say that I deserve it, because of the true feelings that I have for you, and the tender interest inspired in me by all the children of your honoured and loving mother. I kiss you and love you with all my heart. I ask of you the favour not to be satisfied by reading my letter once.
1789] MADAME i^LISABETH DE FRANCE. 41
To the Marquise de Bomhelles.
May 29, 1789.
My heart is so full of the king's troubles that I cannot write to you of other things. All goes worse than ever. The king alone seems satisfied with the turn that things are taking. Few sovereigns in his place would be ; but he has about it all a manner of seeing which is too lucky for him. The deputies, victims of their passions, of their weakness, or of seduction, are rushing to their ruin, and that of the throne and the whole kingdom. If at this moment the king has not the necessary sternness to cut off at least three heads, all is lost.
I do not ask you to return ; you might find the roads all bloody. As for me, I have sworn not to leave my brother, and I shall keep my oath.
Versailles, July 15, 1789.
How kind you are, my heart ! All the dreadful news of yesterday [storming and destruction of the Bastille by the populace] did not make me weep, but your letter, bring- ing consolation into my heart through the friendship you show me, made me shed many tears. It will be sad for me to go without you. I do not know if the king will leave Versailles. I will do what you wish if there is a question of it. I do not know what I desire as to that. God knows the best course to take. "We have a pious man at the head of the Council [Baron de Breteuil] and perhaps he will en- lighten it. Pray much, my heart ; spare yourself, take care of yourself, do not trouble your milk. You would do wrong I think, to go out ; therefore, my dear, I make the sacrifice of seeing you. Be convinced of how much it costs my heart. I love you, dear, more than I can tell. At all times, in all moments I shall think the same.
42 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. n.
I hope the evil is not as great as they think it. What makes me believe this is the calmness at Versailles. It was not very certain yesterday that M. de Launay was hanged ; they had mistaken another man for him in the course of the day. I will attach myself, as you advise, to the chariot of Monsieur, but I think its wheels are worthless. I don't know why it is, but I am always ready to hope. Do not imitate me ; it is better to fear without reason than to hope without it ; the moment when the eyes open is less painful.
Paris, October 8, 1789. My date alone will tell you to what a point our misfortunes have come. We have left the cradle of our childhood — what am I saying ? left ! we were torn from it. What a jour- ney ! what sights ! Never, never will they be effaced from my memory. . . . What is certain is that we are prisoners here ; my brother does not believe it, but time will prove it to him. Our friends are here ; they think as I do that we are lost.
To the Ahhe de Luhersac.
October 16, 1789.
I cannot resist, monsieur, the desire to give you news of me. I know the interest that you are kind enough to feel, and I doubt not it will bring me help. Believe that in the midst of the trouble and horror that pursued us I thought of you, of the pain you would feel, and the sight of your hand- writing has brought me consolation. Ah ! monsieur, what days were those of Monday and Tuesday [5th and 6th of October] ! But they ended better than the cruelties that took place during the night could liave made us expect. As soon as we entered Paris we began to feel hope in spite of the dreadful cries that we heard. But those of the people who surroimded our canlage were better. The queen, who
1789] MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE. 43
has incredible courage, begins to be better liked by the people. I hope that with time and steadily sustained con- duct we may recover the affection of the Parisians, who have only been misled.
But the men of Versailles, monsieur I Did you ever know a more frightful ingratitude ? No, I think that God in his anger has peopled that town with monsters from helL How much time will be needed to make them conscious of their crimes ! If I were king, I should need much to make me believe in their repentance. How ungrateful to an honest man ! Will you believe, monsieur, that our misfortunes, far from briugLQg me to God, give me a positive disgust for all that is prayer. Ask of Heaven for me the grace not to aban- don it wholly. I ask of you this favour ; and also, preach to me a little, I beg of you ; you know the confidence that I have in you. Pray also that all the reverses of Prance may bring back to their better selves those who have con- tributed to them by their irreligion. Adieu, monsieur; believe in the esteem I have for you, and the regret I feel at your being so far away from me.
To the Marquise de Bomhelles.
December 8, 1789.
I am very glad, Mademoiselle Bombelinette, that you have received my letter, as it gives you pleasure, and I am angry with it for being so long on the way. You have no idea what an uproar there has been to-day at the Assembly. We heard the shouts in passing along the terrace of the Peuillants. It was horrible. They wanted to rescind a decree passed Saturday ; I hope they will not do it, for the decree seems to me very reasonable. You will see it all in the newspapers.
T have not made it a point of courage to refrain from
4 Mem. Ver. 9
ii
!??!;
44
LIFE AND Lli'lTEIi.^OK
[chap. II.
speaking to you of Montreuil. You jJ^^i* ine, my heart, too favourably. Apparently I was not lijikiii;,' of it when I wroto to you, I often have news of it .lacques comes daily to bring my cream. Floury, Cuupry Mario, ami Mme. du Coudray come to see me fi'om time ttime. 'J'hey all seem to love me still; and M. Huret — I ftg<'l him — is not very bad. Now, alunit the house. The sa' ■ ' 'ti,^ furnished
when 1 left it; it promised to be \ , , ::u. Juetiues is in his new lodging. Mme. Jac(pa is ])a'gnant; so are all my cows ; a calf has just been brn. The hens I will not say nuich about, because I ha) rather neglected to in(iuiro for (hem. 1 don't know if ni saw my little cabi- net after it was finished. It is vtv pretty. My library is almost finished.* As for the ch.'iel, Corille is working there all alone; ytm can imaguie h(V fast it goes on! It
is out of charity to him that I b' mtinue to put on
a little plaster; as he is fjuile a!' not be called an
expense. I am grieved not to go tere as you can easily believe ; but horses are to mo a till greater privation. However,! think as little as I can bout it; (liough I feel that as my blood grows calmer, tit particular privation makes itself more and, more felt; bs 1 shall have all the more ])K'asinv when I c^n satisfy thu taste.
And (hat poor Saint-Cyr, ah I howin fortunate it is! Do you remember Croisard, the son o my sister's wardrobe woman? Well, he is to-day attacbd to my steps in the (Itinlily of cap(ain of llu* guard. say attached, because the guards never quit us more tlm the shadow of our bodies. You need not think it anuys me. As my move- nuMUs arc not varied, 1 do not care After all, I can walk ill (ho garden as much as I like, 'o-day I walked a full
lu)iir.
* S(.'0 Appcndi:
Ui'*
i^JT
^^•mk^
(r
•^ fti
**^^
»
«'•»
1790]
ME Elisabeth de France
^m-
[ February 20, 1790.
You will < !i] have a line from me to-day, my poor Boinbe; I \va lid Loo late of an o]»porHiiiity, and besides, my head and tie t are so full of what happened yesterday that I have n ) )088ibility of thinking of anything else. Poor M. de lavs was hanged yesterday. I hope that his blood may ii't fi back upon his judges. No one (except the |)opulaf(', ;ir that class of beings to whom we must not give the nan of men — it would be to degiade human- ity) under>tfandfi;vhy he was condemned. He had tlie imjirudence i ■ wli to serve his king; tliat was his crime. I hojif (! • ' mjust execution will have the effect of ])er8e< 111 . lat from his a.shes will ari.se men who still
love their ciMintt. and will avenge it on the traitors who are deceiving it. I hope also that Heaven, in favour of the com a wrd during the four hours he was kept
at the ii ii' before his execution [when he was
tortured and i ), will have pardoned him his sins.
I, my heart; you cannot do a better
Pray to (j<j( work.
The Assenil masters, 'il.
•-till the same; the monsters are the can you believe it ? — is not to have
the necessary eXrutive power to keep him from being
absolutely ir lin'.y have d; tiuiy have rm far leas essei reward il the jHjojiJ'-, their own na such as it is Adieu, my
I < kingdom. For the last four days
1 law to jtacify the di.stinimnces, but
!'» busy thenjselves about other things
la; ha{»pine.s» of men. Well, God will
I 'aven, and punish those who deceive
11^'. and others, fn»m the integrity of
aiiii'.L bring themselves to st-e the evil
leone; I am well; I love you much; be the same, for i)V€<tf your princess, and let us hope for
44 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. n.
speaking to you of MontreuiL You judge me, my lieart, too favourably. Apparently I was not thinking of it when I wrote to you. I often have news of it. Jacques comes daily to bring my cream. Fleury, Coupry, Marie, and Mme. du Coudray come to see me from time to time. They all seem to love me still ; and M. Huret — I forgot him — is not very bad. Now, about the house. The salon was being furnished when I left it; it promised to be very pleasant. Jacques is in his new lodging. Mme. Jacques is pregnant ; so are all my cows ; a calf has just been born. The bens I will not say much about, because I have rather neglected to inquire for thenL I don't know if you saw my little cabi- net after it was finished. It is very pretty. My library is almost finished.^ As for the chapel, Corille is working there all alone ; you can imagine how fast it goes on ! It is out of charity to him that I let him continue to put on a little plaster ; as he is quite alone it cannot be called an expense. I am grieved not to go there as you can easily believe ; but horses are to me a still greater privation. However, I think as little as I can about it ; though I feel that as my blood grows calmer, that particular privation makes itself more and. more felt; but I shall have all the more pleasure when I can satisf}* that taste.
And that poor Saint-Cyr, ah ! how unfortunate it is ! Do you remember Croisard, the son of my sister's wardrobe woman? "VVeU, he is to-day attached to my steps in the quality of captain of the guard. I say attached, because the guards never quit us more than the shadow of our bodies. You need not think it annoys me. As my move- ments are not varied, I do not care. After all, I can walk in the garden as much as I like. To-day I walked a full
hour.
1 See Appendix.
1790] MADAME ELISABETH DE TRANCE 45
February 20, 1790.
You will only have a line from me to-day, my poor Bombe ; I was told too late of an opportunity, and besides, my head and heart are so full of what happened yesterday that I have no possibility of thinking of anything else. Poor M. de Favras was hanged yesterday. I hope that his blood may not fall back upon his judges. No one (except the populace, and that class of beings to whom we must not give the name of men — it would be to degi'ade human- ity) understands why he was condemned. He had the imprudence to wish to serve his king ; that was his crime. I hope that this unjust execution will have the effect of persecutions, and that from his ashes will arise men who still love their country, and will avenge it on the traitors who are deceiving it. I hope also that Heaven, in favour of the courage he showed during the four hours he was kept at the H6tel-de-Ville before his execution [when he was tortured and insulted], will have pardoned him his sins. Pray to God for him, my heart; you cannot do a better work.
The Assembly is still the same ; the monsters are the masters. The king — can you believe it ? — is not to have the necessary executive power to keep him from being absolutely null in his kingdom. For the last four days they have discussed a law to pacify the disturbances, but they have not ceased to busy themselves about other things far less essential to the happiness of men. AVell, God will reward the good in heaven, and punish those who deceive the people. The king, and others, from the integrity of their own natures, cannot bring themselves to see the evil such as it is.
Adieu, my little one ; I am well ; I love you much ; be the same, for love of your princess, and let us hope for
46 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap, ii
happier days. Ah ! how we shall enjoy them. I kiss your little children with all my heart.
You know the rules just made for monks and nuns. Say nothing to any one, but I think many men, and even nuns will leave their convents. I hope that Saint-Cyr will undergo no change ; but its fate is not yet decided.
March 1, 1790.
Since the king has taken that step [his appearance before the Constituent Assembly Feb. 4, 1790], a step which puts him, they say, at the head of the Eevolution, and which, to my mind, takes from him the remains of the crown that he still had, the Assembly has not once thought of doing any- thing for him. Madness follows madness, and good will certainly never come of it. . . . If we had known how to profit by occasions, believe me, we could have done well But it was necessary to have firmness, it was necessary to face danger; we should have come out conquerors. ... I consider civil war as necessary. In the first place, I think it already exists ; because, every time a kingdom is divided into two parties, ever}' time the weaker party can only save its life by letting itself be despoiled, it is impossible, I think, not to call that ci\dl war. Moreover, anarchy never can end without it ; the longer it is delayed, the more blood will be shed. That is my principle ; and if I were king it would be my guide ; and perhaps it would avert great e\41s. But as, God be thanked, I do not govern, I content myself, while approv- ing my brother's projects, with telling him incessantly that he cannot be too cautious and that he ought to risk nothing.
I am not surprised that the step he took on the 4th of Feb- ruary has done him great harm in the eyes of foreigners. I hope, nevertheless, that it has not discouraged our allies, and that they will at last take pity on us. Our stay here is a
1790] MADAME £LISaBETH DE FRANCE. 47
great injury to our prospects. I would give all the world to be out of Paris. It will be very difficult, but still, I hope it may come about. Though I thought for a moment that we did right in coming to Paris, I have long changed my mind. If we had known, my heart, how to profit by that moment, be sure that we could then have done great good. But it needed firmness, it needed not to fear that the provinces would rise against the capital; it needed that we should face dangers ; had we done so, we should have issued victors.
May 18, 1790.
You will have seen by the public papers, my dear child, that there has been some question of your husband in the Assembly, but you will also have seen that they would not even listen to M. de Lameth. So, my heart, you need not be uneasy. Some one said, apropos of M. de Lameth's speech, that he apparently feared that your husband would make Venice aristocratic, and so, wanted to get him away. I thought that charming. Your mother, who assuredly is not cold as to your interests, is not at all troubled by what took place. Therefore, my heart, let the storm growl, and do not worry.
At last we are let out of our den. The king is to ride out on horseback to-day for the third time ; and I have been out once. I was not very tired, and I hope to go again on Fri- day. I am going this morning to Bellevue. I want to see an English garden and I am going for that. During that time the Assembly will probably be busy in taking from the king the right to wear his crown, which is about all that is left to him.
June 27, 1790.
It is long since I have written to you, my little Bombeli- nette ; so I do it to-night in advance, not to be taken short
48 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii.
by the post, whicli often happens to those who have a taste for sacred idleness. I shall not talk to you about the decrees that are issued daily, not even of the one put forth on a cer- tain Saturday [abolition of titles of nobility]. It does not grieve the persons it attacks, but it does afflict the malevolent and those who issued it, because in all societies it has been made a subject of mach diversion. As for me, I expect to call myself Mademoiselle Capet, or Hugues, or Eobert, for I don't think I shall be allowed to take my real name, — de France. All this amuses me much, and if those gentlemen would issue only such decrees as that, I would add love to the profound respect I already feel for them.
You will think my style a little frivolous, considering the circumstances, but as there is no counter-revolution in it, I can be forgiven. Far from thinking of counter-revolutions we are about to rejoice (two weeks hence) with all the mili- tia of the kingdom and celebrate the famous days of July 14 and 15, of which you may perhaps have heard. They are making ready the Champs de Mars, which can contain, they say, six hundred thousand souls. I hope for their health and mine, that it will not be as hot as it is this week, other- wise, with the liking that I have for heat, I believe I should explode. Pardon this nonsense ; but I was so suflfocated last week, at the review and in my own little room, that I am still dazed. Besides, one must laugh a little, it does one good. Mme. dAumale always told me, when I was a child, to laugh, because it dilated the lungs.
I finish my letter at Saint-Cloud; here I am, established in the garden, with my desk and a book in my hand, and here I get patience and strength for the rest that I have to do. Adieu; I love and kiss you with all my heart. Have you weaned your little monster, and how are you ?
1790] MADAME i:LISABETH DE FRANCE. 49
July 10, 1790. I received your letter by the gentleman who has re- turned to Yenice, but too late to answer it by him. We touch, my dear child, as the song says, the crucial moment of the Federation. It wiU take place Wednesday, and I am convinced that nothing very grievous will happen. The Due d'Orl^ans is not yet here; perhaps he will come to-night or to-morrow ; perhaps he will not come at all. I am of opinion that it is of no consequence. He has fallen into such contempt that his presence will cause but little excitement. The Assembly seems decidedly sepa- rated into two parties : that of M. de la Fayette, and that of the Due d'OrMans formerly called that of the Lameths. I say this because the public believes it ; but, I myself am of opinion that they are not as ill together as they want it to appear. Whether that is so, or is not so, it seems that M. de la Fayette's party is much the more considerable ; and that ought to be a good thing, because he is less sanguinary, and seems to wish to serve the king by con- solidating the immortal work to which Target gave birth February 4, of this year 90. All the reflections you make on the stay of the king [in Paris] are very just; I have long been convinced of it. But nothing of all that will happen, unless Heaven takes part therein. Pray for that strongly, for we need it much.
To the Marquise de Raigecourt.
July 20, 1790.
Do not come here, my heart; all is calm, but you are better in the country ; I do not need you for the week's ser- vice ; your husband wishes you to stay with your sister-in- law ; therefore as a submissive wife, do not stir.
Paris was in great disturbance yesterday, but to-night all is
50 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii.
very quiet. The States-General are still issuing decrees that have not common-sense. I am anxious lest the little line I wrote you may bring you back ; reassure me and tell me you are still at Marseille [the chateau de Marseille in Picardy]. Be at ease about your husband, your brother, and all who are dear to you ; they run no risks, and will run none. Adieu ; I kiss you with all my heart ; I am very tranquil, and you can be so entirely.
To ihe Marquise de Montiers}
August 20, 1790.
I have received your letter, my dear child; it touched me very much ; I have never doubted your feelings for me, but the signs you show of it give me great pleasure. It would have been infinitely agreeable to me to have seen you again this autumn, but I feel the position of your husband and I consent strongly to the plan he has formed of spending the winter in foreign countries. I will even own that your position makes me desire it ; this country is tranquil, but from one moment to another it may be so no longer. You are too excitable to allow of your confinement in a place where from day to day an uprising is to be feared; your health could not resist it ; moreover, with your disposition, recovery from confinement would be much more serious. Use all these reflections to aid you, my heart, in making the sacrifice that your husband's fortune and his position oblige you to make. If telling you that I approve of it can
^ The Marquise dcs Montiers (Mile, de la Briffe) had grown up from childhood with the princess; she was gay, vivacious, and full of imagina- tion. Madame Elisaheth's letters to her take an almost maternal tone in advising, warning, and directing " my dear Demon," as she often e.tlled her. These friends were all Madame Elisabeth's ladies-in-waiting, and all were anxious to return to her in her cruel isolation ; but although she was 80 dependent herself on friendship she would noi, for their sokes, let them come to her. — Tb.
1790] MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE. 51
make you bear it better, I shall repeat it to you incessantly. But, my heart, what I cannot repeat to you too often, what I wish could be engraved upon your heart and mind, is that this is a decisive moment for your happiness and your reputation. You are about to be trusted to yourself in a foreign country, where you can receive no counsel but your own. Perhaps you will meet there Parisian men whose reputations are not very good ; it is difficult in a foreign country not to receive one's compatriots, but do so with such prudence and regulate your actions with so much reason that no one can make talk about you.
Above all, my heart, seek to please your husband. Though you have never spoken to me about him, I know enough of him to know that he has good qualities, though he may also have some that do not please you so well. Make to yourself a law not to dwell upon those, and above all, not to let any one speak of them to you ; you owe this to him, and you owe it to yourself. Try to fix his heart. If you possess it, you will always be happy. Make his house agreeable to him ; let him find in it a wife eager to give him pleasure, interested in her duties and her children, and you will gain his confidence. If you once have that, you can do, with the intelligence that Heaven has given you and a little skill, all that you wish. But, dear child, above all sanctify your good qualities by loving God ; practise your religion; you will find strength in that, a resource in all your troubles, and consolations that it alone can give. Ah ! is there a happiness greater than that of being well with one's conscience ? Preserve it, that happiaess, and you will see that the tortures of life are little, indeed, com- pared to the tortures of those who give themselves up to all the passions.
Po not let the piety of your mother-in-law disgust you.
52 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chaP. n.
There are persons to whom Heaven has not given the grace of knowing it in its true light ; pray to Heaven to enlighten her. I am glad that your husband sees her defects, but I should be sorry if by jesting or otherwise, you made him re- mark upon them. Forgive, my dear heart, all this prating ; but I love you too well not to say to you that which I think will be useful to your happiness. You tell me with the amiability of which you are so capable, that if you are worth anything in life you owe it to me ; take care, that is encour- aging me to tire you again.
Adieu, my heart ; write me as often as you have the desire to do so. If you have need to open your heart, open it to me, and believe that you cannot do so to any one who loves you more tenderly than I.
I am forgetting to reply about M. d'A. Not being able, in view of the present position of my affairs to do anything for him just now, I desire you to tell the person who spoke to you to send you word if he should be in a more critical position ; then, I will do what I possibly can. Say many things from me to your mother-in-law, to whom I will write before long.
To the Marquise de Baigecourt.
August 29, 1790.
Good-morning, my poor Eaigecourt ; here we are back at Saint-Cloud to my great satisfaction ; Paris is fine, but in perspective ; here I have the happiness of seeing as much of it as I wish ; indeed, in my little garden I can scarcely see more than the sky. I no longer hear those villanous criers who, of late, not content with standing at the gates of the Tuileries, have roamed the gardens, that no one might fail to hear their infamies.
For the rest, if you want news of my little health I shall
1790] MADAME i^LISABETH DE FRANCE. 53
tell you that I still have torpor in my legs.^ Still, if I may trust the symptoms of that horrid malady, I fancy the cure is at hand, • But I have already been mistaken so many times, that I dare not flatter myself much ; in fact, sincerely, I do not believe in it. Perhaps, if I had courage, I might even say I do not desire it ; but you know that I am weak, and that I dread to expose myself to great pain. . . ,
I am very impatient to get news of you, to know you are settled ; I wish I could say happy, but that, I feel, is very difficult [Mme. de Eaigecourt had just lost a little son]. Fortunately, you can give yourself up to devotion. That will be your consolation, your strength. Do not burden your spirit with scruples ; that would insult God who has done you so many favours, and who deserves that you should go to him with the confidence of a child. Make use of the instructions you have received and of your rector's counsels to quiet the over-sensitiveness of your feelings towards God. , . . Yes, your soul is too sensitive : a trifle hurts it ; God is more indulgent to his creatures ; he knows our weak- ness, but in spite of it, he wants to crown us with all his favours, and, in return for so much kindness he asks for our confidence and our complete abandonment to his will. Ah ! how, at this present moment do we need to repeat to our- selves that truth ! You will often need to have recourse to him to fortify yourself ; do not therefore put yourself in a position to be deprived of the divine nourishment. This is a real temptation which you ought to fight at its birth ; if you let it make progress you will be very unhappy, you
1 This expression, and others of the same kind, Madame Elisabeth uses to express her wish that the king would leave Paris, the hopes he gave her of it, and the efforts made to prevent it. Her letters to Madame de Raige- court, who was in France, where correspondence might be dangerous, seem less free than those to Madame de Bombelles, which went probably in the ambassador's bag, or hy private hand. — Tb.
54 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii.
will offend God ceaselessly. Here am I preaching like the peasant to his priest ! but when the public news worries me I fling myself into sermonizing.
October 24, 1790.
I have just received your second letter. Make ready to receive a reproach in my style. TeU me why you think yourself obliged to be always in violent states ? That is bad judgment, my dear child. You will make yourself ill, and give your child an inevitable tendency towards melan- choly. And why ? because you are not in Paris or at Eaige- court, and because all the stories people tell you seem truths in your eyes. For pity's sake, do not do so. Put into the hands of Providence the fate of those who interest you, and rub your eyes very hard to prevent their seeing black ! ^
As for news, I only know that infamous tales are still told of the queen. Among others, they say there is an intrigue with Mir [abeau], and that it is he who advises the king ! My patient [the king] still has stiffness of the legs, and I am afraid it will attack the joints and there will be no cure for it. As for me, I submit myself to the orders of Providence. To each day its own evil. I shall await the last moment to fall into despair, and in that moment I hope I shall do nothing. . . . We are going to-morrow, H. and I, to Saint-Cyr, to feed a little on that celestial food, which does me much good.
November 3, 1790.
Well, my poor Piage, are you getting accustomed to the life you lead ? The late master of this place is being perse- cuted by his creditors who will end by killing all his friends
' Madame Elisabeth had exacted that Mme. de Raigecourt, who was pregnant, should leave Paris, events becoming more and more aiarminc. Mme. de R. fell into a sort of despair at the separation, and wanted to be allowed to return to Madame illisabeth at auj cost. — Fb. Ed,
1790] MADAME fiLISABETH DE FRANCE. 55
with grief. Nothing that happens can decide him to part from his property : offers are made on all sides ; nothing comes of them. What is to be done ? we must pray to Providence to be with him.
Here we are back in Paris ; if we knew how to profit by it I would not complain ; but, as you know, the chateau of the TuHeries wUl be our habitual promenade. Well, as God wills ; if I thought of myself only I do not know what I should prefer. Here I am more conveniently placed for my little devotions : but for walks and the gaiety of the place, Saint-Cloud is preferable ; and then the neighbourhood of Saint-Cyr. On the other hand, the evenings were very long ; you know I have a hon-or of lights, or rather they make me so sleepy that I cannot read long at a time. So on the whole I conclude that God arranges all for the best, and that I ought to be very glad to be here.
December 1, 1790.
Mon Dieu, my poor Raigecourt, what extraordinary thing ' have they been telling you ? I puzzle my head to guess, and cannot do so. Nothing has happened here. We are still in perfect tranquillity, and I cannot conceive what you mean.
I have made a mistake of twenty-four hours as to the post-day, which is the reason this letter did not go by the last courier. You now know the decree about the clergy, and I can see from here, all that you are saying, all that you are thinking, how you are wringing your arms, and shutting your eyes, and saying, " Ah ! God wills it ; it is well, it is well, we must submit ; " and then you do not submit any more than others. Do not go and think you do because you are so resigned at the first moment ; my Eaigecourt's head will heat; this reflection will agitate her, that fear will torture her ; such a person runs risks, what wUl happen to
56 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap, ii,
him ? will they force him to act against his duty and his conscience ? etc., etc. And then, behold my Raigecourt be- side herself, all the while saying : " My Grod, I offer you sub- mission." Have the goodness, mademoiselle, not to torture yourself in that way. M. de Condorcet has decided that the Church is not to be persecuted because it would make the clergy interesting ; and that, he says, would do an infinite injury to the Constitution. Therefore, my heart, no martyr- dom, thank God, for I own that I have no fancy for that sort
of death.
December 30, 1790.
I see persecution coming, being in mortal anguish at the acceptance that the king has just given. God reserved us this blow ; may it be the last, and may he not suffer that schism be established : that is all I ask. But if the days of persecu- tion do return, ah ! I should ask of God to take me from this world, for I do not feel within me the courage to bear them. This acceptance [of the decree against the clergy] was given on Saint Stephen's day ; apparently that blessed martyr is now to be our model. Well, as you know, I am not afraid of stones ; so that suits me. They say that seven of the rectors of Paris have taken the oath. I did not think the number would be so large. All this has a very bad effect on my soul ; far from rendering me devout, it takes away from me all hope that God's anger will be appeased Your rector decides to follow the law of the Gospel and not the one just made. I am told that a member of the Com- mune, wanting to persuade the rector of Sainte-Marguerite, said to him that the esteem felt fur him, the preponderance that he had in the world, would do much to restore peace by influencing minds. To wliich he answered, " Monsieur, the reasons that you give nie are the very ones that oblige me to refuse the oath and not act against my conscience."
1791] MADAME I:LISABETH DE FRANCE. 57
May God not abandon us wholly ; it is to that we must limit our hopes. I have no taste for martyrdom ; but I feel that I should be very glad to have the certainty of suffering it rather than abandon one iota of my faith. I hope that if I am destined to it, God will give me strength. He is so good, so good ! he is a Father, so concerned for the true welfare of his children that we ought to have all confidence in him. "Were you not touched on the Epiphany with God's goodness in calling the Gentiles to him at that moment ? Well, we are the Gentiles. Let us thank him well ; let us be faithful to our faith ; let us not lose from sight what we owe to him ; and as to all the rest, let us abandon ourselves to him with true filial confidence.
February 15, 1791.
I am giieved at the unnecessary fear that M. de B. has caused you. We are still far from all those evils he has put into your head. ... I am sorrj^ to be so far from you and to be unable to talk as I would like to do ; but, my heart, calm yourself. I know that that seems difficult, but it is neces- sary. You excite your blood ; you make yourself more un- happy than you need be : all that, my heart, is not in the order of Providence. We must submit to God's decrees, and that submission must bring calmness. Otherwise, it is on our lips only, not in our heart. WTien Jesus Christ was be- trayed, abandoned, it was only his heart which suffered from those outrages ; his exterior was calm, and proved that God was really in him. We ought to imitate him, and God ought to be in us. Therefore, calm yourself, submit, and adore in peace the decrees of Providence, without casting your eyes upon a future which is dreadful to whose sees with human eyes alone. Happily, you are not in that case ; God has crowned you with so many favours that you will apply your virtue to wait patiently for the end of his wrath.
58 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii.
As for me, I am not in your condition. I will not say that \irtue is the cause of this ; but in the midst of many troubles and anxieties, I am more within reach of consolations ; I am calm, and I hope for a happy eternity. ... As for what you say of me, believe, my heart, that I shall never fail in honour, and that I shall always know how to fulfil the obligations that my principles, my position, and my reputation impose upon me. I hope that God will give me the light necessary to guide me wisely, and to keep me from wandering from the path that he marks out for me. But to judge of all that, my heart, others must be near me. From a distance, a chival- rous act appears enchanting ; seen near-by it is often found to be an act of vexation, or of some other feeling not worth more in the eyes of the wise and good,
March 2, 1791.
I have received your little letter. I do not think that the person of whom you speak ever had the intention towards others that is attributed to her. She has defects, but I never knew her to have that one. If D. [d'Artois] would break off his alliance with Calonne, by travelling in another direc- tion, that would give pleasure, I am sure. As for me, I de- sire it eagerly for the good of one I love so well, and for whom, I own to you, I dread the intimacy with Calonne. Do not say this to the man you have seen, but you can send word of it imder the greatest secrecy, to her whose ideas you approve, even for interested persons ; I cannot myself enter into any explanation with them, and you would do me a kindness to take charge of this.
March 18, 1791.
I profit by the departure of M. de Chamisot to tell you many things. I am infinitely uneasy at the course my brother is about to take. I believe that the wise counsels that have been given hira are not to be followed. The little
1791] MADAME llLISABETH DE FRANCE. 59
unity, the little harmony that there is among the persons who ought to be bound together by an indissoluble tie, make me tremble. I wish I could see in all that only God's will ; but I own to you that I often put self into it. I hope that M. de Firmont will make me attain, by his counsels, to that necessary point of safety. You will see from this that it is he whom I have chosen to take the place of the Abb^ Madier in my confidence. I confessed yesterday, and I was perfect- ly content with him. He has intelligence, gentleness, a great knowledge of the human heart. I hope to find in him what I have long lacked to enable me to make progress in piety. Thank God for me, my heart, that he has thus, by a peculiar stroke of his providence, led me to M. de Firmont, and ask him to make me faithful in executing the orders he may give me through that organ.
I have no news to send you from here ; all is much the same. The evn-minded amuse themselves at our expense. France is about to perish. God alone can save it. I hope he wiU.
Extract from a letter of the Able Edgeworth de Firmont to a friend, published in his Memoirs}
Though a foreigner, and very little worthy to be distin- guished by the princess, I soon became her friend. She gave me her unKmited confidence, but I was known to neither the king nor the queen. Nevertheless, they often heard me men- tioned, and during the last period of their reign they several times expressed their surprise at the facility with which I was allowed to enter the palace, while around them there was nothing but surveillance and terror. It is a fact that I never saw the danger for what it really was ; and while no other
1 He was an Irishman, and was recommended to Madame Elisabeth, for her confessor, by the Superior of Foreign Missions. It was to him that Lonis XVI. sent in his last extremity. — Tk. 5 Mem. Ver. 9
60 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii.
ecclesiastic could appear at Court unless completely disguised, I went there in open day, two or three times a week without changing my dress. In truth, when I remember those days of horror I am surprised at my courage, but I suppose that Providence blinded me to danger intentionally. Though my presence excited some murmurs among the guards, I never received the slightest insult from them. I continued thus until the fatal day of the arrest of the royal family. On the 9th of August, 1792 — I remember it well ! — Madame Elisabeth desired to see me, and I spent the greater part of the morning in her room, not imagining the scene of horror that was then being prepared for the next day.
To the Marquise de Raigecoiirt.
April 3, 1791.
Ah ! my heart, you ought not to complain, your pregnancy has brought you great good luck in keeping you away from schism and these awful divisions. ... I ask no better than to be godmother to your little one. If you like, I will give her the name of H^lfene ; and if you will be pleased to give birth to her at one o'clock in the morning of the 3rd of May [her own birthday and hour] it will be very well, pro- vided it gives her a happier future than mine, where she will never hear of States-Generals or schisms.
Mirabeau has taken the course of going to see in another world if the Revolution is approved of there. Good God ! what an awakening his will be. They say he saw his rector for an hour. He died tranquilly, believing himself poisoned ; though he had no symptoms of it. They showed him to the people after his death ; many were grieved ; the aristocrats regret him much. For the last three months he had put himself on the right side, and they hoped in his talenta For my part, though very aristocratic, I cannot help regard-
1791] MADAME ]&LISABETH T)E FRANCE. 61
ing his death as a mercy of Providence to this country. I do not believe that it is by men without principles and with- out morals that God intends to save us. I keep this opinion to myself, as it is not policy — but I prefer a thousand times religious policy, and I am sure you will be of my opinion.
I counted on having the happiness to take the communion on Holy Thursday and at Easter; but circumstances will deprive me of it ; I fear to cause disturbance in the chateau, and have it said that my devotion was imprudent ; a thing that above all others I desire to avoid, because I have always thought it should be a means to make one's self loved. The rumour is spread about Paris that the king is going to-morrow to high-mass in the parish church ; I cannot bring myself to believe it until he has actually been there. All-powerful God ! what just punishment are you reserving for a people so misguided ?
May 1, 1791. I think the reflections you make are perfectly just ; we ought to guard ourselves from extremes in all opinions. I am far from thinking that to be attached to those I love forms an exclusive claim to put them in offices ... I think it needs perfect equality in merit, or some great distinction to give a veritable claim to preference. In all things I want justice alone to guide my choice ; I will even go further and say that I want it to carry the day over any desire I may have to prefer one person to another person, and that friend- ship should yield to it. A disinterested friendship is the only kind that touches me (yours is that, and therefore I can speak thus freely to you). I feel that in my position (of other days) my influence was employed to obtain favours, and I lent myself to it too zealously.
62 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii.
May 18, 1791.
I have received your letter ; it gives me great pleasure in spite of its gloom. Believe, my heart, that I am less unhappy than you imagine ; my vivacity sustains me, and in crucial moments God overwhelms me with kindness. I suffered much in Holy Week, but that over, I have calmed myself. . . . The more the moment approaches,^ the more I become, like you, incredulous. Nevertheless the news my brother receives is satisfactory. Every one says that the principalities [German States] are interested for us. I desire it eagerly, perhaps too eagerly. ... It seems to me that our Court is rather badly informed as to the policy of the cabinets of Europe. I do not know if they distrust us, or whether we have flattered ourselves too much. I own to you that if I see the end of this month arrive with no appearance of any- thing, I shall have need of great resignation to the will of God, to bear the thought of passing another summer like that of 1790 ; and all the more because things have grown much worse since then ; religion is weakened, and those who were attached to us have left for other countries where it still exists. "What will become of this one, if Heaven be not merciful "...
"We take so few precautions that I believe we shall be here when the first drum beats. If things are managed wisely I do not think there will be much danger ; but up to this mo- ment, I do not see clear to bid farewell to my dear country. Nevertheless, I would not answer that it may not happen some day, when no one thinks of it. Lastic, Tily, Serent, [her ladies] they will all be gone within a month, forced away by circumstances ; would that I were gone too ! I am
1 Tliis is evidently an allusion to the approaching effort of the king to leave Paris. The parts omitted are omitted by the French Editor, not by the translator. — Tb.
179!] MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE. 63
not sustained by your fine zeal ; I feel the need of addressing myself to some one who will shake (as you call it) my soul. I see that, perfect as I thought myself, I should have had to spend at least some centuries in purgatory if Providence had not interfered. Happily it has sent me a confessor gentle without being weak, educated, enlightened, knowing me already better than I do myself, and who will not let me stay in my languor. But it is now, my little one, that I need prayers ; for if I do not profit by this mercy I shall have a terrible account to render. I regret I did not know him earlier, and if I have to leave him soon it will be a great disappointment.
June 29, 1791.1 I hope, my heart, that your health is good, and that it does not suffer from the situation of your friend. Hers is excel- lent; you know that her body is never conscious of the sen- sations of her soul. This latter is not what it should be towards its Creator, the indulgence of God is its only hope of mercy. I neither can nor will I enter into details as to all that concerns me ; let it suffice you to know that I am well, that I am tranquil, that I love you with all my heart, and that I will write to you soon — if I can.
July 9, 1791. I have just received from you the tiniest letter it is possible to see; but it gives me great pleasure because you send me word that H^lfene and you are both well ; try to have it last. For that reason do not think of com- ing here. No, my heart, the shocks to the soul are less dangerous where you are than in Paris. Stay there until minds are calmer than they are now. What should I
1 This letter is written directly after the fatal return from Varennes. — Tb.
64 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. n.
do if anytliing happened here and you were here, too ? I should be doubly unliappy, for with your acute sensibility your milk would flow into your blood, and you would be very ilL
Paris is tranquil in appearance. They say that minds are in fermentation. But, in fact, I know nothing. There is some excitement, — to-day the women of one of the clubs came to present a petition which the Assembly would not receive. They said they would return to-morrow. The peti- tion is to be read at the opening of the Assembly ; I think it demands that there shall be no longer a king. It seems to me impossible to foresee the action of the Assembly. Duport, Lameth, Barnave, Dandr^, La Fayette, are for the monarchy, but I do not know if they can carry the day.
I have been very unhappy, my heart ; I am stUl, especially in not being able to get sure news from foreign countries. I was able to see my abb^ yesterday; I talked very deeply with him and that wound me up again. At present I suffer much less than you would do in my place ; therefore be tran- quil about me. Try to discover if a staff-officer named Goguelat, escaped with M. de BouiU^ ; we are uneasy about him.
Ah ! my heart, pray for me, but especially for the salvation of those who may be the victims of all this. If I were sure about that, I should not suffer so much ; I could say to my- self that an eternity of happiness awaits them. Collect for this prayer all the souls you know; some are more in- terested than others, and have certainly thought of this. What troubles each individual is enduring! More fortu- nate than some, I have this week resumed my usual way of life, but my soul is far from being able to take pleasure in it. Yet I am calm, and if I did not fear more for others than for myself, it seems to me that I could support with ease
1791] MADAME :fcLISABETH DE FEANCE. 65
my position, which, though I am not a prisoner, is never- theless annoying. Adieu, my heart; I love and kiss you tenderly.
To the Ahbe de Lubersac}
July 29, 1791.
I have just received your letter. I hope, monsieur, that you do not doubt the interest with which I have read it. Your health seems to me less bad : but I fear that the last news you will have received from this country will make too keen an impression on you. More than ever is one tempted to say that a feeling heart is a cruel gift. Happy he who can be indifferent to the woes of his country, and of all that he holds most dear ! I have experienced how desirable that state is for this world, and I live in the hope that the con- trary will be useful in the other. Nevertheless, I own to you that I am far from the resignation I desire to have. Aban- donment to the will of God is so far only on the surface of my mind. Still, having been for nearly a month in a violent state, I am beginning to return to my usual condition ; events seem to be calming down and that has caused it. God grant that this may last awhile and that Heaven will pity us. You cannot imagine how fervent souls are redoubling their zeal. Surely Heaven cannot be deaf to so many prayers, offered with such trustfulness. It is from the heart of Jesus that they seem to await the favours of which they are in need ; the fervour of this devotion appears to redouble ; the more our woes increase, the more those prayers are offered up. All the communities are making them ; but indeed the whole world ought to unite to petition Heaven. Unhappily,
1 The Abbe de Lubersac, being Madame Victoire's chaplain, had ac- companied her to Rome. Madame Elisabeth's last letter to him is dated (as we shall see) July 22, 1792. His heart clung passionately to France. Unable to live away from it he returned to Paris in August and perished in the massacres of September 2 and 3. — Tr.
66 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii.
it is much easier to speak strongly as to this than to execute it ; I feel this constantly, and it angers me instead of humili- ating me.
You ask me for my advice on the project you have formed. If you wish me to speak to you frankly, I shall say that I would not, if I were you, take the subject you have chosen. We are still too corrupted for the virtues in which many persons do not believe at all to have much effect. It would be impossible for me to give you any information upon it, for I possess none. But I believe that if you have the desire to write, all subjects of Christian morality would be well treated by you ; and if you are willing that I should still further give you my opinion I shall say that, if I were you, I would choose a subject strong in reason rather than in senti- ment; it is more suited to the situation in which your soul now is. Remember, in reading this, that you wished me to say to you what I think ; and do not doubt, I entreat you, the perfect esteem I have for you, or the pleasure your letters give me.
To the Marquise de Bombelles.
July 10, 179L
I have received your little letter, dear Bombe ; I answer it in the same way. Though we differ in opinion the signs it contains of friendship give me great pleasure. You know I am always sensitive to that, and you can imagine that in a moment like this friendship has become a thousand-fold more precious to me .... Paris and the king are still in the same position ; the former tranquil, the second guarded and not lost sight of a moment, and so is the queen. Yester- day a species of camp was established under their windows, for fear they might jump into the garden which is hermetically closed and full of sentinels ; among them two or three under
1791] MADAME ifcLISABETH DE FRANCE. 67
my windows. Adieu, my heart, I kiss you tenderly, as well as your little one. They say that the affair of the king will be reported on soon, and that he will then be set at liberty. The law against the emigres is very severe; they forfeit three-fifths of their property. {The end of this letter is written in " ivhite ink")
No, my heart, I am very far from permitting your return. It is not, assuredly, that I should not be charmed to see you, but because I am con\TJiced that you would not be safe here. Preserve yourself for happier times, when we may perhaps enjoy in peace the friendship that imites us. I have been very unhappy ; I am less so. If I saw an end to all this I could more easily endure what is taking place ; but now is the time to give ourselves wholly into the hands of God — a thing that indeed the Comte d'Artois ought to do. We ought to write to him and urge it. Our masters wish it. I do not think it will influence him.
Our journey with Barnave and Potion went on most ridi- culously. You believe, no doubt, that we were in torture ; not at all. They behaved well, especially the first, who has much intelligence and is not ferocious as people say. I began by showing them frankly my opinion as to their actions, and after that we talked for the rest of the journey as if we ignored the whole thing. Barnave saved the gardes du corps who were with us and whom the National guards wanted to massacre.
September 8, 1791,
The Constitution is in the hands of the king since Satur- day, and he is reflecting on the answer he will make. Time will tell us what he decides upon in his wisdom. We must ask the Holy Spirit to give him of its gifts ; he has great need of them.
68 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii.
I wish I had something amusing to tell you, but we do not abound in that commodity ; all the more because the price of bread is rising and makes us fear many riots this winter, not counting those with which the autumn threatens us. It is very sad, and there is no way to make ourselves illusions because the Assembly itself speaks of them, the riots, as an e\il it expects. It is true that the strength given by the love of liberty is very reassuring, and patriotism can easily take the jAsLce of order and the subordination of troops. . , .
Yes, my heart, I wish I could transport myself near you. How sweet it would be to me ! But Providence has placed me where I am ; it is not I who chose it ; Providence keeps me here and to that I must submit. We are stni quite tran- quil. A letter has appeared from the Prince, and a declara- tion from the emperor and the King of Prussia [at Pillnitz], The letter is strong, but the other is not. Yet some persons think they see the heavens opening. As for me I am not so credulous ; I lift my hands to heaven and ask that God will save us from useless evils. You will do the same, I think.
To the Marquise de Raigecourt.
September 12, 1791.
At last I have an opportimity to write to you; I am charmed, for I have a hundred thousand things to say ; but I do not know where to begin ; besides, I do not want to have to render an account of this letter in the next world, for, just now, charity is a difficult virtue to put in practice.
I begin by telling you that the Constitution is not yet signed, but it is safe to wager that it will be by the time thi? letter reaches you, perhaps before I close it, even. Is it a good, is it an evil ? Heaven alone knows which it is. Many persons think, from their point of view, that they are certain about it.
1791] MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE. 69
I am in no way called upon to give my advice, or even to speak of tlie matter. • I am still floating as to the view to take ; there are so many fors and ifs and lauts to be considered that I remain uncertain. One must see all things very near to judge; these are too far-off to be able to bring them enough into one's thoughts to fix one's ideas.
To speak to you a little of myself, I will tell you that I am about what you have always seen me; rather gay, though there are moments when my position makes me feel keenly ; nevertheless, on the whole, I am more calm than agitated or anxious, as you certainly fancy I am. The knowledge you have of my nature will make you understand what I say. The life I lead is about the same. We go to mass at mid- day ; dine at half-past one. At six I return to my own apartments ; at half-past seven the ladies come ; at half-past nine we sup. They play billiards after dinner and after supper, to make the king take exercise. At eleven every- body goes to bed, to begin again on the morrow. Sometimes I regret my poor Montreuil, especially when the weather is warm and fine; there may come a time, perhaps, when we shall all be there again ; what happiness I should then feel ! but everything tells me that moment is very far-off ; we are walking on a quicksand.
One thing alone affects me deeply. It is that they are trying to put coldness into a family whom I love sincerely.^ Consequently, as you are in the way of seeing a person who might have some influence, I wish you would talk to him in private and fill him with the idea that all will be lost if the, son should have other ideas for the future than those of con- fidence and submission to the orders of the father. All
^ Between the king and his brothers. In the above letter the name father means the king ; that of mother-in-law, the queen ; that of son the Comte d'Artois. — Fk. Ed.
70 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii.
views, all ideas, all feelings ought to yield to that. You must feel, yourself, how necessary this is. To speak quite clearly : remember the position of that imfortunate father ; events which prevent him from any longer managing his own estate throw him into the arms of his son. That son has always had as you know, a perfect conduct towards his father, in spite of all that has been done to make him quarrel with his mother-in-law. He always resisted it. I do not think it made him bitter, because he is incapable of bitterness ; but I fear that those who are now allied with him may give him bad advice. The father is nearly well ; his affairs are recovering ; he may shortly take back the manage- ment of his estate, and that is the moment that I fear. The son, who sees the advantages of leaving them in the hands in which they now are, will hold to that idea ; the mother-in- law will never allow it ; and this struggle must be averted by making the young man feel that, even for his personal interests, he ought not to put forward that opinion, and so avoid placing himself in a painful position.
I wish therefore that you would talk this over with the person I indicated, and make him enter into my meaning (without telling him I have spoken thus) by making him believe the idea is his own, and then he will more readily communicate it. He ought to feel better than any one the rights of the father over his sons, for he has long experi- enced it. I wish also that he could persuade the young man to be a little more gracious to his mother-in-law, if only by the charm a man can employ when he chooses, and thus convince her that he wants to see her what she has always been. In this way he would avoid much vpxation and could enjoy in peace the friendship and confidence of his father. But you kno^r very weU that it is only by talking tranquilly to that person, without closing the eyes
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or lengthening the face, that you can make him feel what I say. For that you must be convinced yourself. Therefore, read my letter over again, try to understand it thoroughly, and start from that to do my commission. They will tell you harm of the mother-in-law ; but the sole means of preventing that from becoming a reality is the one I tell you. The young man made a blunder in not allying him- self with a friend of the said lady. If no one speaks to you of this do not mention it.
P. S. I knew it ! here is the Constitution settled and accepted in a letter which you will certainly hear of soon. In reading it, you will know all that I think of it, therefore I will say no more. I have much anxiety as to the results, I wish I could be in all the cabinets of Europe. The con- duct of Frenchmen becomes difficult. One single thing supports me, it is the joy of knowing that those gentlemen are out of prison.^ I go to the Assembly at midday, to follow the queen ; were I mistress of myself, I certainly would not go. But, I do not know how it is, all this does not cost me as much as it does others, though assuredly I am far from being constitutional. M. de Choiseul came out of prison to-day, the others yesterday. Adieu ; give me, in white ink, all the news you know, but try to have it true. That about the imperial troops does not please me. \'\Tiat is said in your region ? The colonies are not to be subjected to the decrees. Bamave spoke with such force that he carried the day. That man has much talent ; he has in- tellect, he might have been a great man had he willed it ; he may still be one ; but heaven's anger is not over. How should it be ? what are we doing to make it so ?
^ AH the gentlemen captured during the flight to Varennes were released on the king's accepting the Constitution. — Tb.
72 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii.
October 4, 1791.
They say there is to be a congress at Aix-la-Chapelle ; they even quote an extract of a letter from Mart^chal de Broglie saying positively that the emperor has received answers from all the other Courts, adhering to the declara- tion of Pillnitz, and that in consequence then- ministers and ambassadors are to assemble at Aix-la-Chapelle. God grant it may be so ! Then, indeed, we might have a hope of seeing our evils at an end. But this slow progress demands great prudence, much union of wills ; to this all our desires should tend. I own to you that this position works upon my mind more than it should. I am pursued in my prayers with counsels that I want to give ; I am very discontented with myself ; I wish to be calm — but that will come.
October 12, 1791.
Very happy news is being spread here. The emperor has, they say, recognized the National flag ; thus, all fears are calmed. It must be owned that in the eyes of the cen- turies, present and future, such pacific moderation will have a superb effect. Already I see histories relating it with enthusiasm, the people blessing it for their happiness, peace reigning in my hapless country, constitutional re- ligion fully established, philosophy enjoying its work, and we, poor Eoman-apostolicals, moaning and hiduig ourselves ; for if this Assembly is not driven out by the Parisians, things will be terrible for non-conformists. But, my heart, God is master of all ; let us work to save ourselves ; let us pray for the evil-doers, and not imitate them ; God will reward us how and when he will.
All is tranquil here, but who knows liow long it will last ? I think it may last long, because the people, meeting with no resistance, have no reason for excitement. The
1791] MADAME jfeLISABETH DE FRANCE. 73
king is at this moment the object of public adoration; you cannot form an idea of the uproar there was on Satinday night at the Italian comedy; but we must wait and see how long such enthusiasm will last.
I do not number my letters any longer, because I burned all the papers I did not care to have read on my return here.
I think, as you do, that the young man of whom you speak [Comte d'Artois] will never be happy in his family ; but I do not think that his mother-in-law is altogether the cause of it ; I think he is tricked by the old fox [Comte de Mercy] who is the intimate friend of her brother. If the young man did wisely he would try to win him over, but there are so many conflicting interests to defeat it ! What is greatly to be feared is that the mother-in-law should be as much the fox's victim as any one.
An extraordinary thing has happened within a day or two; a corporal took it upon himself to lock the king and queen into their rooms from nine o'clock at night till nine the next morning. This went on two days before it was discovered. The guard is furious, and there is to be a coun- cil of war. By rules, the corporal ought to be hanged ; but I do not think he will be, and I should be sorry for it. The rumour in Paris is that the king is under arrest.
No doubt you read the newspapers, therefore I give you no news when I tell you that the decree on the priests passed yesterday, with all possible severity. It was taken to the king in spite of its unconstitutional faults. At the same time there came a deputation of, I believe, twenty- four members, to beg the king to take steps towards the Powers inviting them to prevent the great assemblages of emigres, or else to declare war against them. In their speech they assured the king that Louis XIV. would not
74 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii.
have suffered such assemblages. "WTiat do jou think of that ? — a pretty thing of them to talk in these days of Louis XIV., "that despot!"
To the Marquise de Bomhelles.
November 8, 1791.
Do you know, my Bombe, that if I did not rely on your friendship, your indulgence, I should be rather ashamed of the long time since I have written to you. But it was to do better that I did wrong. I wanted to write you a long letter and I never have found time. Your mother wrote you a week ago, so that you know that all with us is still standing, and that, in spite of the blasphemies they never cease to vomit against God and his ministers, the skies have not yet fallen upon us. . . . [_The rest is in white inJcl
At last they feel here the necessity of drawing closer to Coblentz [the headquarters of the princes and emigrSs]. Some one is to be sent from here who will remain there, and will be in correspondence with the Baron de BreteuiL^ But I feel one fear as to this step ; I am afraid it is taken only
^ Louis X\^.'s confidential agent towards the Courts of Europe. The following is a copy of his full powers : —
" Monsieur le Baron de Breteuil, knowing your zeal and your fidelity, and wishing to give you a proof of my confidence, I have chosen you to confide to you the interests of my crown. Circumstances do not allow me to give you instructions on this or that object, nor to hold with you a con- tinuous correspondence. I send you the present to serve you as full powers [pleins pouvoirs] and authorization towards the different Powers with whom you may have to negotiate for me. You know my intentions ; and I leave it to your prudence to make what use you judge necessary of these powers for the good of my service. I approve of all that you may do to attain the end that I propose to myself, which is the re-establishment of my legitimate authority and the welfare of my people. On which, I pray God, M. le Baron de Breteuil, etc."
The Baron de Breteuil's headquarters were at Brussels. See " Diary and Correspondence of Count Axel Fersen," the preceding volume of this Hist. Series. — Tr.
1791] MADAME ^LISABETH DE FRANCE. 75
to stop rash enterprises, which are much to be dreaded, and not to bring about deserved confidence. Yet, if that confi- dence does not exist what will happen ? "VVe shall be the dupe of all the Powers of Europe. I hope your husband will urge the Baron de Breteuil to enter sincerely into this new order of things. Here we are at the gates of winter ; this is the moment for negotiations ; they might have a happy issue, but only if done with harmony of action. If that does not exist, remember what I tell you : in the spring, either the most dreadful civil war will be established in France, or each province will set up its own master. Do not think that the policy of Vienna is disinterested ; it is far short of that. Austria never forgets that Alsace once belonged to her. All the other Powers are very glad to have a reason to leave us in a state of humiliation. Think of the time that has passed since our return from Varennes ! Did those events stir the emperor ? Has he not been the first to show uncertainty as to what he would do ? To believe, as many persons assert, that it is the queen who holds him back, seems to me devoid of sense, and almost a crime. But I do permit myself to think that the policy pursued towards that Power has not been conducted with sufficient skill. If that is so, I think there is some blame ; but it would be unpardonable if, after the decree given yesterday against the emigres, the present danger were not felt. Judge by the quantity of Frenchmen who are over there how impossible it will be to restrain them ; and what will become of France and her king if they take such a course without foreign help ? Reflect on all this, my Bombe; and if your husband sees there is real danger that . . . \the paper is torn at this place'] ... or that he urges his friend to act in good faith ; I expect that at first the man sent to Coblentz will meet with some difficulties ; but he must not be alarmed ; speaking in the king's name
6 Mem. Ver. 9
76 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii.
and putting no inflexibility into his manner of maintaining his opinion while arguing it well, he will lead the others.
Adieu ; let me know that you receive this letter ; if your husband takes any steps towards the baron he must not let him know that I asked it, or that I have even written to you on the subject.
To the Comte d'Artois.
February 19, 1792. You know, my dear brother, what my friendship is for you, and how I rejoice to hear of your well-being. I believe, I who am here on the spot, that you are unjust towards that person ; you have not at bottom a better friend. I pray God that he will shed upon you his blessing and his light, and you will then judge better. This estrangement is on all sides a calamity and a suffering ; for it casts shadows where friendship ought to shine. I will write to you more at length by the opportunity you know of, and I will prove to you that you will never find a truer, tenderer, more devoted friend than I am to you.
To the Marquise de Raigecourt.
February 22, 1792.
I will see, my heart, when my purse is a little less empty, what I can do for those good and saintly Fathers of the sacred Valley [La Trappe] \Vliat a life is theirs ! how we ought to blush in comparing it with ours ! But perhaps a part of those saints have not as many sins to expiate as we have. '\\Tiat ought to console us is that God does not re- quire from everybody what he does from them, and that, pro- vided we are faithful in the little we do, he is content.
The queen and her children were at the theatre last night, where the audience made an infernal uproar of applause. The Jacobins tried to make a disturbance, but they were
1792] MADAME ilLISABETH DE FRANCE. 77
beaten. The others called for the repetition four times of the duet between the valet and the maid in " Ev^nements impr^vus," in which they tell of the love they feel for their master and mistress ; and at the passage where they say, " We must make them happy," the greater part of the audience cried out, " Yes, yes ! " — Can you conceive of our nation ? It must be owned, it has its charming moments. On which, good-night. Your sister spent a happy day lately at the " Calvaire." Vive la Liberie ! As for me, who enjoy as much as I can of it for the last three years, I envy the fate of those who can turn their steps where they will ; if I could only spend a few calm days it would do me great good. It is a year since I have dared to go to Saint-Cyr.
To the Co7nte d'Artois.
February 22, 1792.
Your last letter was brought to me this morning, my dear brother, and I have been made very happy by finding it less bitter than the one that preceded it. Nevertheless, I prom- ised to add a few words to one I wrote you three days ago, and I am too sincerely your friend not to do so.
I think that the son has too much severity towards his mother-in-law. She has not the faults for which he blames her. I think she may have listened to suspicious advice ; but she bears the evils that overwhelm her with strong courage ; and she should be pitied far more than blamed, for she has good intentions. She tries to fix the vacillations [incertitudes] of the father, who, to the misfortune of the family, is no longer master, and — I know not if God wills that I deceive myself, but — I greatly fear that she will be one of the first victims of what is taking place, and my heart is too wrung with that presentiment to allow me to blame her.
78 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. it.
God is good ; he will not suffer discord to continue in a family to which unity and a good understanding would be so useful. I shudder when I think of it ; it deprives me of sleep, for discord wiU kill us all. You know the difference in habits and societies that your sister had always had with the mother-in-law ; in spite of that she feels drawn to her when she sees her unjustly accused, and when she looks the future in the face. It is very unfortunate that the son has not been willing, or perhaps able, to win over the intimate friend of the mother-in-law's brother [Comte de Mercy]. That old fox is tricking her; and the son ought to have taken the duty upon himself, if possible, and made the sac- rifice of being on terms with him in order to foil him and prevent an evil which has now become alarming. Of two evils, the least. All men of his sort frighten me ; they have intellect, but what good is it to them ? Heart is needed as well, and they have none. They have nothing but intrigue ; into which it is unfortunate that they drag so many persons. Others should have been more shrewd than they. . . .
The idea of the emperor racks me : if he makes war upon us there will be an awful explosion. May God watch over us ! He has heavily laid his hand on this kingdom in a visible manner. Let us pray to him, my dear brother ; he alone knows hearts, in him alone is our worthy hope. I have passed this Lent in asking him to look with pity upon us, and to arrange these matters in the family 1 love so much. I have that so deeply at heart that I would conse- crate my life to asking it on my two knees, if that would make me worthy of being heard. It is only God who can change our fate, make the vertigo of this nation (good at bottom) cease, and restore it to health and peace. Adieu — what was it you asked me ? how I pass my time ? what are my occupations ? whether I ride on horseback ? whether I
1792] MADAME IJLISABETH DE FRANCE. 79
still go to Saint-Cyr ? I scarcely dare for a whole year past to do my duties. I kiss you with all my heart. Miserere nobis.
To the Marquise de Maigecourf.
April 6, 1792.
As I do not wish you to scold me, I write on Holy Thurs- day, but only a little line. The King of Sweden is assas- sinated ! Every one has his turn. He had incredible courage. We do not yet know if he is dead; but it is likely that he is from the way the pistol was loaded. Adieu, my heart ; when you wean the baby I will busy myself in finding you a lodging in the chateau, for yours has been given to others.
April 18,1792.
You think perhaps we are still in the agitation of the fete at Chateauvieux ; not at all ; everything is very tranquil The people flocked to see Dame Liberty tottering on her triumphal car, but they shrugged their shoulders. Three or four hundred sans-culottes followed her shouting : " The Na- tion ! Liberty ! The Sans-Culottes ! " It was all very noisy, but flat. The National guards would not mingle; on the contrary, they were angiy, and Potion, they say, is ashamed of his conduct. The next day a pike with a bonnet rouge walked about the garden, without shouting, and did not stay long.
The King of Sweden died with much courage. ^Miat a pity that he was not Catholic ; he would have been a true hero. His country seems tranquil. Adieu, my heart.
June 23, 1792.
For three days before the 20th a great commotion was felt to exist in Paris, but it was thought that all necessary pre-
80 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii.
cautions were taken to ward off danger. Wednesday morn- ing the courtyards and garden were full of troops. At midday we heard that the faubourg Saint-Antoine was on the march ; it bore a petition to the Assembly, and did not propose to cross the Tuileries. Fifteen hundred persons filed into the Assembly ; few National guards and some Invalids, the rest were sans-culottes and women. Three municipal officers came to ask the king to allow the troops to enter the garden, saj-ing that the Assembly was hampered by the crowd, and the passages so incumbered that the doors might be forced. The king told them to arrange with the com- mandant to defile along the terrace of the Feuillants and go out by the gate of the riding-school.
Shortly after this tlie other gates of the garden were opened in spite of these orders. Soon the garden was filled. The pikes began to defile in order imder the terrace in front of the chateau where there were three lines of National guards. They went out by the gate to the Pont Eoyal and seemed to intend to pass through the Carrousel on their way back to the faubourg Saint-Antoine. At three o'clock they showed signs of wishing to force the gate of the grand courtyard. Two municipal officers opened it. The National Guard, which had not been able to obtain any orders since the morning, had the sorrow of seeing them cross the court- yard without being able to bar the way. The department had given orders to repulse force by force, but the munici- pality paid no attention to this.
"VVe were, at this moment, at the king's window. The few persons who were with his valet de chambre came and joined us. The doors were closed. A moment later we heard raps. It was Acloque with a few grenadiers and volunteers whom he had collected. He asked the king to show himself, alone. The king passed into the first antechamber. There M.
1792] MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE. 81
d'Hervilly came to join him, with, three or four grenadiers whom he had induced to come with him.
At the moment when the king passed into the antechamber the persons attached to the queen forced her to go into her son's room. More fortunate than she, no one tore me from the king's side. The queen had scarcely gone when the door was bm-st in by the pikes. The king, at that instant, mounted one of the coffers which stand in the windows. The Mar^- chal de Mouchy, MM. d'Hervilly, Acloque, and a dozen grenadiers surrounded him. I stood against the wall with the ministers, M. de Marcilly, and some National guards around me. The pikes entered the chamber like a thunder- bolt ; they looked for the king, especially one of them, who used the most dangerous language. A grenadier turned aside his weapon, saying, " Unhappy man ! this is your king." All the grenadiers then began to shout Vive le Roi ! The rest of the pikes responded mechanically to the cry ; the chamber was filled in less time than I can tell it, the pikes demanding the sanction, and the dismissal of the ministers.^
During four hours the same shouts were repeated. Mem- bers of the Assembly came. M. Vergniaud and Isnard spoke well to the people ; told them they did wrong to demand the king's sanction thus, and urged them to withdraw; but it was as if they did not speak at all. At last Potion and the municipality arrived. The first harangued the people, and after praising the " dignity " and " order " with which they had come, he invited them to retire with " the same calm-
1 This was the moment, recorded by all other witnesses and forgotten by Madame Elisabeth, when, being mistaken for the queen and threatened with death, she stopped those who wished to correct the blunder. "No, no," she said, " let them think I am she." One witness mentions that she added, "Their crime would be less."
It was on this occasion that a woman of the people said, the next day: "We could do nothing then; they had their Sainte Genevieve with them." — Tr.
82 I-ITE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii.
ness," in order that they might not be reproached for com- mitting excess at " a civic fete." At last the populace began to depart.
I forgot to tell you that, shortly after the crowd entered, the grenadiers made a space and kept the people from press- ing on the king. As for me, I had mounted the window- seat on the side towards the king's room. A great number of persons attached to the king had come to him that morn- ing; but he sent them orders to go away, fearing another 18th of April. I should like to express myself as to that, but not being able to do so, I will simply say that I shall recur to it. All that I say now is that he who gave the order did well, and that the conduct of the others was perfect.
But to return to the queen, whom I left dragged against her will to my nephew's room ; they had carried the latter so quickly into hiding that she did not see him on entering his apartment. You can imagine her despair. But M. Hue, usher, and M. Saint- Vincent were with him and soon brought him to her. She did everything possible to return to the king, but MM. de Choiseul and d'Haussonville, also those of our ladies who were there, prevented it. A moment later they heard the doors burst in, all but one which the people did not find. ]\Ieantime the grenadiers had entered the Council Chamber, and there they placed her, with her chil- dren, behind the Council table. The grenadiers and other attached persons surrounded her, and the populace defiled before her. One woman put a bonnet rouge upon her head, also on that of my nephew. The king had worn one from almost the first moment. Santerre, who conducted the pro- cession, harangued her, and told her they deceived her by saying that the people did not love her. He assured her she had nothing to fear. " We fear nothing," she replied,
1792] MADAME ifeLISABETH DE FRANCE. 83
"when we are with brave men," So saying, she stretched out her hand to the grenadiers who were near her, and they fell upon it.. It was very touching.
The deputies who came, came with good-will. A true deputation arrived which requested the king to return to his own room. I was told of this, and not being willing to stay behind in the crowd, I left about an hour before he did, and rejoined the queen. You can judge with what joy I em- braced her, though I was then ignorant of the risks she had run. The king retm'ued to his room, and nothing could be more touching than the moment when the queen and his children threw themselves into his arms. The deputies who were there burst into tears. The deputations relieved each other every half-hour untU. quiet was completely restored. They were shown the violences that had been committed. They behaved very well in the apartment of the king, who was perfect to them. At ten o'clock the chateau was empty, and every one went to bed.
The next day, the National Guard, after expressing the greatest grief at its hands being bound, and having had be- fore its eyes, helplessly, all that had taken place, obtained an order from Potion to fire, if necessary. At seven o'clock it was said that the faubourgs were marching, and the Guard put itself under arms with the greatest zeal. Deputies of the Assembly came with good-will and asked the king to let the Assembly come to him, if he thought there was danger. The king thanked them. You will see their dialogue in the newspapers, also the one with Potion, who came to tell the king that the crowd was only a few persons who wanted to plant a May tree.
At this moment we are tranquil. The arrival of M. de la Payette from the army creates a little excitement in people's minds. The Jacobins are sleeping. These are the details of
84 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii.
the 20th of June. Adieu ; I am well ; I kiss you, and I am thankful you are not here in the fray.
To the Abbe de Lubersac.
June 25, 1792.
This letter will be rather long on its way ; but I prefer not to let this opportimity of talking with you pass. I am convinced that you will feel almost as keenly as ourselves the blow that has just been struck us ; it is all the more dreadful because it lacerates the heart, and takes away our peace of mind. The future seems an abyss, fi'om which we can only issue by a miracle of Providence. Do we deserve it? At that question I feel my courage fail me. "VMiich of us can expect the answer, " Yes, you deserve it " ? All sufifer, but alas ! none are penitent, none turn their hearts to God. As for me, what reproaches I have to make to my- self ! Swept along by the whirlwind of misfortune I have not asked of God the grace we need ; I have relied on human help ; I have been more guilty than others, for who has been as much as I the child of Pro\adence ? But it is not enough to recognize our faults ; we must repair them. I cannot alone. Monsieur, have the charity to help me. Ask of God, not a change which it may please him to send us when, iu his wisdom, he thinks suitable, but let us limit ourselves and ask him only to enlighten and touch all hearts, and es- pecially to speak to two most unhapp}- beings, who would be more unhappy still if God did not call them to him. Alas ! the blood of Jesus Christ flowed for them as much as for the solitary hermit who mourns for trivial faults incessantly. Say to God often, " If thou wilt, thou canst cure them," and give to him the glory of it. God knows the remedies to be applied.
I am sorry to write to you in so gloomy a style ; but my
1792] MADAME :&LISABETH DE FRANCE. 85
heart is so dark that it is difficult for me to speak otherwise. Do not think from this that my health suffers ; no, I am weU ; and God has given me gi-ace to keep my gaiety. I earnestly hope that your health may be restored ; I wish I could know that it was better ; but how can one hope that with your sensibilities ? Let us think that there is another life where we shall be amply compensated for the troubles of this one ; and let us live in the hope of meeting there once more — but not until after we have the pleasure of see^ ing each other agaiu in this world ; for, in spite of my exces- sive gloom, I cannot believe that all is hopeless. Adieu, monsieur; pray for me, I beg of you, after having prayed for those others, and send me news of yourself at times ; it is a consolation to me.
To the Marquise de Baigecourt.
July 8, 1792. It would really require all the eloquence of Mme. de S^vigne to describe what happened yesterday ; for it is, in- deed, the most surprising thing, the most extraordinary, the grandest, the pettiest, etc., etc. Happily, experience aids comprehension. In short, behold the Jacobins, the Feuil- lants, the Eepublicans, the Monarchists, all abjuring their discords, and, uniting beneath the immovable arch of the Constitution and Liberty, promising one another very sin- cerely to walk together, laws in hand, and never to deviate from them ! Happily, the month of August is approaching, when, its foliage being fully developed, the tree of liberty will offer a safer shade. The city is tranquil and will be so during the Federation. I tremble lest there be no religious ceremonies ; you know my taste for them. Ask of God, my heart, that he will give me strength and counsel. Adieu ; I embrace and love you with all my heart.
86 LIFE AST) LETTERS OF [chap. ii.
July 11, 1792.
Our good patriots in the Assembly have just, my heart, declared the country to be in danger, in view of the conduct of the kings of Hungary and Prussia (not to speak of others) towards poor peaceable beings like us ; for why should any one blame us ? However that may be, the nation is about to rise as one man.
Our ministers have taken the course of resigning, all six at once ; which astonishes many persons, — all the more be- cause their determination was sudden and confided to no one. I had attached myself to two of them, and you will agree that that was hardly worth while.
Our Federation is making ready quietly. A few Federals are already here ; they do not come in troops as they did two years ago, but gradually. I have just seen some disem- barking, and they have not an elegant appearance.
Adieu ; I kiss you with all my heart, and I beg of you the favour of not fretting because you are not here ; the reasons are good why you should stay where you are, and you must think of the matter no longer.
July 18, 1792.
Tour prayers, unworthy as you pretend they are, brought us good fortune, my heart ; the famous day of the 14th [fete of the Federation] passed off tranquilly. There was much shouting of Vive Petion ! and the Sans Culottes I As we re- turned the whole guard which accompanied the king never ceased shouting, Vive le roi ! they were all heart and soul for us ; that did good. Since then Paris is very calm. They have just sent away three regiments and two battalions of the Swiss Guards to the camp at Soissons.
I am well, my heart, except for the heat, which is scarcely endurable just now. We had a frightful storm the night
i?92j MADAME :fcLlSABEfH t)E I'RANCE. 8?
before last; it lasted an immense time; the lightning fell upon the gardens at Versailles. Adieu, my heart ; my letters must tire you ; I think that before long you will not have patience to read them ; but how can I help it ? I do not know what to tell you. I kiss you with all my heart.
fi>tvffl'u4' qivt^ p ^n'.i fT-tiiU^JC, run nc-^t^u^c^'i^^iH^
To the Ahbe de Lubersac.
July 22, 1792.
You will soon receive a letter from me which is a perfect jeremiad. From its style one would think I had foreseen what was to follow. I do not wish you to think, monsieur, that that is my habitual state. No, God gi-ants me the grace to be quite otherwise ; but at times my heart has need to let itself go, and I must speak of the agitations that fill it; it seems as if, by giving relaxation to the nerves, they gained more strength. You, who are more sensitive than others, must feel this need.
Since the dreadful day of the 20th we are more tranquil ; but we do not the less need the prayers of saintly souls. Let those who, sheltered from the storm, feel only, so to speak, its repercussion, lift their hearts to God. Yes, God has given them the favour to live in quiet that they may make that use of their freedom. Those on whom the storm lowers meet at times with such shocks that it is difficult to
88 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii.
practise tlie great resource — that of prayer. Happy the heart of whoso can feel in the great agitations of this world that God is with it ! happy the saints who, pierced by stabs, can yet praise God in every moment of their day ! Ask that grace, monsieur, for those who are feeble and little faithful like me ; it would be a true work of charity to do.
My aunt thanks me often for making her know you [the Abb^ de Lubersac was with Madame Yictoire in Eome], It seems to me very simple that she should be pleased, and I think myself fortunate to have procured for her that advan- tage — or, to speak more truly, to have been one of the instruments that God has used for that work of salvation. I will not say as to that all that I think ; but I am verj- glad to be able to speak of it to you in order that you may put your shyness more to one side, if you are still a victim to it — I can use that expression, for shyness is a real affliction.
Paris is in some fermentation ; but there exists a God who watches over the city and its inhabitants. Therefore be tranquil. I wish I could think that the great heats will not make you suffer; but that is difficult. Adieu, monsieur, I hope that you do not forget me before God, and that you are convinced of the esteem I have for you.
To the Marquise de Raigecoiirt.
July 25, 1792.
Good-day, my Eaigecourt. Your H^lfene must be a jewel. I do not doubt it, but I am charmed to hear it ; though I should be still more charmed, I assure you, if I could see her instead of believing what you say of her. But patience ! your health, I hope, will not be long in getting strong, and then you might soon come and join me. What a fine moment, my heart, will that be ! we shall have bought it by a very long parting. But there is an end to all things. I
1792] MADAME f:LISABETH DE FRANCE. 89
do not flatter myself that I can see you before the autumn ; but it is always sweet to be able to talk of it.
Our days pass tranquilly. The last few have not been quite the same ; the people tried to force the gates ; but the National Guard behaved admirably and stopped it all. There is talk of suspending the executive power to pass the time. To pass mine in another manner I go, in the mornings, for three or four hours into the garden, — not every day, how- ever ; but it does me a great deal of good. Adieu ; I kiss you with my whole heart and end because there is nothing I am able to tell you.
Madame Elisabeth's last letter bore date August 8, 1792 ; two days before the fatal 10th, when silence fell forever between her and her friends. In that letter she spoke of the " death of the executive power," adding, " I can enter into no details."
LiFE AND L£TT£RS OF [chap, ill
CHAPTER III.
Madame Elisabeth's Removal to the Conciergerie. — Her Examination.
Condemnation, and Death. ^
[The only authentic records of Madame Elisabeth's life from the day she entered the Tower of the Temple, August 13, 1792, to May 9, 1794, the day when she was torn from the arms of her young niece, are in the simple Narrative of that niece, Marie-Thdi-^se de France, and in the Journal of the Temple by Clery, Louis XVI.'s valet. These narratives could be, and have been rewritten and elaborated in tender words by loving hearts, but their plain simplicity is more befitting the sacred figure of this brave, self-forgetting, wise, and truly Christ-like woman. They are given later.
"We take her now as she emerges from the Temple, for a last brief moment, into the sight and hearing of men.]
On the 25th of November, 1793, the municipality of Paris addressed to the National Assembly the followiug petition :
" Legislators
" You have decreed Equality ; source of public welfare ; it is established on foundations henceforth immovable ; never- theless, it is violated, this Equality, and in the most revolt- ing manner, by the vile remains of tyranny, by the prisoners in the Tower of the Temple. Could they still, those abomi- nable remains, be of any account under present circum- stances, it could be only from the interest the country has
1 Madame l^Ilisabcth's Life in the Temple, being recorded only by her niece and by Cle'ry, will be found later, in tlieir narratives. — Tr.
t
^,
rry
li
Madame
! of the Temple, August
<• of ance, and in the Journal of I.'s valet. 1
en and r^-^ ei
^ir plain _ "le
this brave, self-forgetting, wise, They are given later.
' " from the Temple, for a 1 hearing of men.] ^3, the municipality of Paris l)ly the following petition :
ii'.
ill
liable rent
from
ATORS
source
never-
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€^^<^ j[try
1793] MADAME :feLISABETH DE FRANCE. 91
in preventing them from rending her bosom, and renew- ing the atrocities committed by the two monsters who gave them birth. If, therefore, such is the sole interest of the Republic in respect to them, it is beneath her sole surveil- lance that they ought to be placed. We are no longer in those horrible days when a Liberticide faction (on whom the blade of the law has already done justice) assumed, as a means of vengeance against a patriotic Commune which it abhorred, a responsibility which outraged all laws, and has weighed for more than fifteen months on every member of the Commune of Paris.
" Reason, justice, equality cry to you, legislators, to make that responsibility cease.
" And as it is more than time to return to their regular work two hundred and fifty sans-culottes, now unjustly employed in guarding the prisoners of the Temple, the Commune of Paris expects of your wisdom : —
" 1st, That you will send the infamous Elisabeth before the Revolutionary tribunal at the earliest moment.
" 2d, That in regard to the posterity of the tyrant you will take prompt measures to transfer them to a prison chosen by you, there to be locked up with suitable precautions and treated by the system of equality in the same manner as all other prisoners whom the Republic has need to secure.
" Drouy, Renard, Le Clerc, Legrand, Dorigny,"
Referred to the Committee on Public Safety, this petition slumbered there for six months, but it was not forgotten in that hotbed of the Revolution.
Madame ^felisabeth had, from the hour that she left Mon-
treuil, expressed the resolution to share the trials and the
perils of her brother and his family. She kept that resolu- 7 Mem. Ver. 9
92 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. in.
tion : at Versailles on the 6th of October ; in Paris, through years of gloomy solitude in the Tuileries ; on the road to and from Yarennes ; on that day of evil omen, the 20th of June ; on the bloody night of the 10th of August ; in the box at the Assembly, facing insults and threats ; in the Tower of the Temple, witness and actor in those heart-rending farewells. Yes, she kept all the promises she made to God, and God was now about to keep all his to her : strength and faithful- ness imto death were hers, and pity passes from our minds as we read of these last scenes, so all-triumphant are they.
In a pouring rain she was taken on foot across the garden and courtyard of the Temple, placed in a hackney-coach, and driven to the Conciergerie, May 9, 1794. It was then eight o'clock in the evening. At ten she was taken to the council haU of the Revolutionary tribunal, and there subjected to her first examination before Gabriel Deliege, judge, Fouquier- Tinville, prosecutor, and Ducray, clerk.^
After placing her signature with that of the three* men at the foot of each page of her indictment, Madame Elisabeth was taken back to prison. She made herself no illusions as to the fate that awaited her. She knew it would be in vain to ask for the help of a Catholic priest ; she resigned herself to that deprivation, and offered direct to God the sacrifice of her life, drawing from her li\'ing faith the strength to make that sacrifice worthily. She was alone; no human help could reach her. It is said that, unknown to her, a lawyer, M. Chauveau-Lagarde, hearing of her arraignment, went to the prison to offer himself for her defence. He was not permitted to see her. He appealed to Fouquier-Tinville, who replied : " You cannot see her to-day ; there is no huTTy ; she will not be tried yet." Nevertheless, spurred by a vague anxiety, M. Chauveau-Lagarde went the next morning to the assize court,
* See Appendix IL
1793] MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE. 93
and there, according to his presentiment, was Madame Elisa- beth seated, among twenty-four other prisoners, on the upper bench, where they had placed her that she might be conspic- uously in view of every one. It was then impossible to confer with her, and she was ignorant that one man stood in that court seeking to defend her.^
Een^-FranQois Dumas, president of the Eevolutionary tribunal, opened the session ; Gabriel Deli^ge and Antoine- Marie, judges, were seated beside him.
Gilbert Liendon, deputy public prosecutor, read the accusation ; Charles-A drien Legris, clerk, wrote down the examination.
The jurors, to the number of fifteen, were the following citizens [names given].
The Indictment.
" Antoine-Quentin Fouquier, Public Prosecutor of the Eevolutionary Tribunal, established in Paris by the decree of the National Assembly, March 10, 1793, year Two of the Eepublic, without recourse to any Court of Appeal, in virtue of the power given him by article 2 of another decree of the said Convention given on the 5 th of April following, to the effect that ' the Public Prosecutor of said Tribunal is au- thorized to arrest, try, and judge, on the denunciation of the constituted authorities, or of citizens,' —
" Herewith declares that the following persons have been,
by various decrees of the Committee of general safety of the
Convention, of the Eevolutionary committees of the different
sections of Paris, and of the department of the Yonne, and
by virtue of warrants of arrest issued by the said Public
Prosecutor, denounced to this Tribunal : —
1 The following account of the proceedings is taken from the official report in the " Moniteur."
94 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. m.
" 1st, Marie Elisabeth Capet, sister of Louis Capet, the last tyrant of the French, aged thirty, and born at Versailles."
[Then follow the names and description of twenty-four other prisoners.]
" And, also, that it is to the family of the Capets that the French people owe aU the evils under the weight of which they have groaned for so many centuries.
" It was at the moment when excessive oppression forced the people to break their chains, that this whole family united to plunge them into a slavery more cruel than that from which they were trying to emerge. The crimes of all kinds, the guilty deeds of Capet, of the Messalina Antoi- nette, of the two brothers Capet, and of Elisabeth, are too well known to make it necessary to repaint here the hor- rible picture. They are written in letters of blood upon the annals of the Revolution; and the unheard-of atrocities exercised by the barbarous emigres and the sanguinary Satel- lites of despots, the murders, the incendiarisms, the ravages, the assassinations unknown to the most ferocious monsters which they have committed on French territory, are still commanded by that detestable family, in order to deliver a great nation once more to the despotism and furj^ of a few individuals.
" filisabetli has shared aU those crimes ; she has co-operated in all the pLjts, the conspiracies formed by her infamous brothers, by the wicked and impure Antoinette, and by the horde of conspirators collected around them ; she associated herself with their projects ; she encouraged the assassins of the nation, the plots of July, one thousand seven hundred and eighty-nine, the conspiracy of the 6th of October fol- lowing, of which the d'Estaings, the Villeroys, and others,
1793] MADAME ELISABETH DE FRANCE. 95
who have now been struck by the blade of the law, were the agents, — in short, the whole uninterrupted chain of conspiracies, lasting four whole years, were followed and seconded by all the means which Elisabeth had in her power. It was she who in the month of June, 1791, sent diamonds, the property of the nation, to the infamous d'Artois, her brother, to put him in a condition to exe- cute projects concerted with him, and to hire assassins of the nation. It was she who maintained with her other brother, now become an object of derision and contempt to the coalized Powers on whom he imposed his imbecile and ponderous nullity, a most active correspondence ; it was she who chose by the most insulting pride and disdain to degrade and humiliate the free men who consecrated their time to guarding the tyrant ; it was she who lavished atten- tions on the assassins, sent to the Champs Elysees by the despot to provoke the brave Marseillais; it was she who stanched the wounds they received in their precipitate flight.
"Elisabeth meditated with Capet and Antoinette the massacre of the citizens of Paris on the immortal day of the 10th of August. She watched all night hoping to witness the nocturnal carnage. She helped the barbarous Antoi- nette to bite the cartridges ; she encouraged by her lan- guage, young girls whom fanatical priests had brought to the chg,teau for that horrible occupation. Finally, disap- pointed in the hope of all this horde of conspirators, namely, — that the citizens who came to overthrow tyranny would be massacred, — she fled in the morning, with the tyrant and his wife, and went to await in the temple of National sovereignty that the horde of slaves, paid and committed to the crimes of that parricide Court, should drown Liberty in the blood of citizens and cut the throats
96 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. hi.
of its representatives among whom she had sought a refuge.
" Finally, we have seen her, since the well-deserved pun- ishment of the most guilty of the tjTants who have ever dishonoured human nature, promoting the re-establishment of t}Tanny by lavishing, with Antoinette, on the son of Capet homage to royalty and the pretended honours of a king."
The president, in presence of the auditory composed as aforesaid, then put to the said jurors, each individually, the following oath : —
" Citizen, you swear and promise to examine with the most scrupulous attention the charges brought against the accused persons, here present before you ; to communicate with no one until after you declare your verdict ; to listen to neither hatred nor malignity, fear, nor affection ; to decide according to the charges and the means of defence, and according to your confidence and inward conviction, with the impartiality and firmness which becomes free men."
After swearing the said oath, the said jurors took their seats in the centre of the audience chamber, facing the ac- cused and the witnesses.
The president told the accused that they might sit down : after which he asked their names, age, profession, residence, and place of birth, beginning with Madame Elisabeth.
Q. WTiat is your name ?
A. Elisabeth-Marie.
[The report in the " Moniteur " does not say, but a large number of persons present have declared that Madame Elisabeth answered : " I am named Elisabeth-]\Iarie de France, sister of Louis XVI., aunt of Louis XVII., your king."]
Q. Your age ? A. Thirty.
1793] MADAME I:LISABETH DE FRANCE. 97
Q. Where were you born ? A. Versailles. Q. Where do you live ? A. Paris.
The president then put the following questions to Madame Elisabeth :
Q. Where were you on the 12th, 13th, and 14th of July, 1789, that is, at the period of the first plots of the Court against the people ?
A. I was in the bosom of my family. I knew of no plots such as you speak of. I was far from foreseeing or second- ing those events.
Q. At the time of the flight of the tyrant, your brother, to Varennes did you not accompany him ?
A. All things commanded me to follow my brother ; I made it my duty on that occasion, as on all others.
Q. Did you not figure in the infamous and scandalous orgy of the Gardes-du-corps, and did you not make the circuit of the table with Marie-Antoinette and induce each guest to repeat the shocking oath to exterminate the patriots, to smother liberty at its birth, and re-establish the tottering throne ?
A. I am absolutely ignorant if the orgy mentioned took place ; and I declare that I was never in any way informed of it.
Q. You do not tell the truth, and your denial is not of any use to you, because it is contradicted on one side by public notoriety, and on the other by the likelihood, which con- vinces every man of sense, that a woman so closely allied as you were with Marie-Antoinette, both by ties of blood and those of intimate friendship, could not avoid sharing her machinations and helping with all your power; you did therefore, necessarily, and in accord with the wife of the tyrant, instigate the abominable oath taken by the satellites
98 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap. hi.
of the Court to assassinate and annihilate liberty at its birth; also you instigated the bloody outrages done to that precious sign of liberty, the tri-colour cockade, by ordering your accomplices to trample it vmder foot.
A. I have already declared that all those acts are unknown to me ; I have no other answer.
Q. "Where were you on the 10th of August ?
A. I was in the chateau, my usual and natural residence for some time past.
Q. Did you not pass the night of the 9th and 10th in your brother's room ; and did you not have secret conferences with him which explained to you the object and motive of all the movements and preparations which were being made before your eyes ?
A. I spent the night you speak of in my brother's room ; I did not leave him; he had much confidence in me; and yet I never remarked anything in his conduct or in his conversation which announced to me what happened later.
Q. Your answer wounds both truth and probability ; a woman like you, who has manifested through the whole course of the Eevolution so striking an opposition to the present order of things, cannot be believed when she tries to make us think that she was ignorant of the cause of those assemblages of all kinds in the chateau on the eve of the 10th of August. WiU you tell us what prevented you from going to bed on the night of the 9th and 10th of August ?
A. I did not go to bed because the constituted bodies had come to tell my brother of the agitation, the excitement of the inhabitants of Paris, and the dangers that might re- sult from it.
Q. You dissimulate in vain : especially after the various
1793] MADAME ^LISABETH DE FRANCE. 99
confessions of the widow Capet, who stated that you took part in the orgy of the Gardes-du-corps, that you supported her under her fears and alarms on the 10th of August as to the life of Capet. But what you deny fruitlessly is the active part you took in the conflict that ensued between the patriots and the satellites of tyranny ; it is your zeal and ardour in serving the enemies of the people, in supplying them with cartridges, which you took pains to bite, because they were directed against patriots and intended to mow them down ; it is the desire you have publicly expressed that victory should belong to the power and partisans of your brother, and the encouragement of all kinds which you have given to the murderers of your country. What answer have you to these last facts ?
A. All those acts imputed to me are unworthy deeds with which I was very far from staining myself.
Q. At the time of the journey to Varennes did you not precede the shameful evasion of the tyrant by the subtrac- tion of the diamonds called crown diamonds, belonging then to the nation, and did you not send them to d'Artois ?
A. Those diamonds were not sent to dArtois ; I confined myself to giving them into the hands of a trustworthy person.
Q. Will you name the person with whom you deposited those diamonds ?
A. M. de Choiseul was the person I selected to receive that trust.
Q. What have become of the diamonds you say you confided to Choiseul ?
A. I am absolutely ignorant of what was the fate of those diamonds, not having had an opportunity to see M. de Choiseul ; I have had no anxiety, nor have I concerned my- self about them.
100 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. hi.
Q, You do not cease to lie on all the questions made to you, and especially on the matter of the diamonds ; for a proch^erbal of September 12, 1792, drawn up with fuU knowledge of the circumstances by the representatives of the people at the time of the theft of those diamonds, proves, in a manner that cannot be denied, that those diamonds were sent to d'Artois. Have you not kept up a correspondence with your brother, the ci-devant Monsieur ?
A. I do not remember having done so since it was prohibited.
Q. Did you not yourself stanch and dress the wounds of the assassins sent to the Champs ^filys^es by your brother against the brave Marseillais ?
A. I never knew that my brother did send assassins against any one, no matter who. Although I gave succour to some wounded men, humanity alone induced me to dress their wounds ; I did not need to know the cause of their ills to occupy myself with their relief. I make no merit of this, and I cannot imagine that a crime can be made of it.
Q. It is difficult to reconcile the sentiments of humanity in which you now adorn yourself with the cruel joy you showed on seeing the torrents of blood that flowed on the 10th of August. All things justify us in believing that you are humane to none but the murderers of the people, and that you have all the ferocity of the most sanguinary ani- mals for the defenders of liberty. Far from succouring the latter you instigated their massacre by your applause ; far from disarming the murderers of the people you gave them with your own hands the instruments of death, by which you flattered yourselves, you and your accomplices, that tyranny and despotism would be restored. That is the hu- manity of despots, who, from all time, have sacrificed mil- lions of men to their caprices, to their ambition, and to their
1793] MADAME ^LISABETH DE FRANCE. 101
cupidity. The prisoner filisabeth, whose plan of defence is to deny all that is laid to her charge, will she have the sin- cerity to admit that she nursed the little Capet in the hope of succeeding to his -father's throne, thus instigating to royalty ?
A. I talked lamiliarly with that unfortunate child, who was dear to me from more than one cause, and I gave him, in consequence, aU the consolations that I thought might com- fort him for the loss of those who gave him birth.
Q. That is admitting, in other terms, that you fed the little Capet with the projects of vengeance which you and yours have never ceased to form against liberty ; and that you flattered yourself to raise the fragments of a shattered throne by soaking it in the blood of patriots.
The president then proceeded to the examination of the other prisoners, confining himself to a few insignificant questions.
[Here the " Moniteur," and after it historians, omit all mention of the speech of Madame Elisabeth's defender, thus leaving it to be supposed that no voice was raised in her behalf. Though the trial was rapid, and all communi- cation was prevented between her and her defender, it is a known fact that Chauveau-Lagarde rose after the president had ended Madame Elisabeth's examination, and made a short plea, of which he has given us himself the substance :
"I called attention," he says, "to the fact that in this trial there was only a bold accusation, without documents, without examination, without witnesses, and that, conse- quently, as there was in it no legal element of conviction there could be no legal conviction at all.
" I added that they had nothing against the august prisoner but her answers to the questions just put to her, and that
102 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. hi.
those answers, far from condemning her, ought to honour her to all eyes, because they proved absolutely nothing but the goodness of her heart and the heroism of her friendship.
" Then after developing those ideas I ended by saying that as there was no ground for a defence, I could only present for Madame Elisabeth an apology, and even so, I found it impossible to make more than one that was worthy of her, namely : that a princess who had been a perfect model of virtue at the Court of France could not be the enemy of Frenchmen.
" It is impossible to paint the fury with which Dumas apostrophized me; reproaching me for having had the * audacity to speak ' of what he called * the pretended virtue of the accused, thus attempting to corrupt the public morals.' It was easy to see that Madame Elisabeth, who until then had remained calm, as if unconscious of her own danger, was agitated by that to which I was exposing myself.]
The report in the " Moniteur " continues : — After the Public Prosecutor and the defenders had been heard, the president declared the debate closed. He then summed up the cases and gave to the jury the following written paper: —
" Plots and conspiracies have existed, formed by Capet, his wife, his family, his agents and his accomplices, in conse- quence of which external war on the part of a coalition of tyrants has been provoked, also ci\'il war in the interior has been raised, succour in men and money have been furnished to the enemy, troops have been assembled, plans of campaign have been made, and leaders appointed to murder the pee-ple, annihilate liberty, and restore despotism.
" Is Elisabeth Capet an accomplice in these plots ? "
The jury, after a few moments' deliberation, returned to
1793] MADAME :fcLISABETH DE FRANCE. 103
the audience chamber and gave an affirmative declaration against Madame Elisabeth and the other prisoners [here foUow the names], who were then condemned to the Penalty of