The President having announced that he was about to declare the result of
the scrutiny, a profound silence ensued, and he then gave in the following
declaration: that, out of 719 votes, 366 were for DEATH, 319 were for
imprisonment during the war, two for perpetual imprisonment, eight for a
suspension of the execution of the sentence of death until after the
expulsion of the family of the Bourbons, twenty-three were for not putting
him to death until the French territory was invaded by any foreign power,
and one was for a sentence of death, but with power of commutation of the
punishment.
After this enumeration the President took off his hat, and, lowering his
voice, said: "In consequence of this expression of opinion I declare that
the punishment pronounced by the National Convention against Louis Capet
is DEATH!"
Previous to the passing of the sentence the President announced on the
part of the Foreign Minister the receipt of a letter from the Spanish
Minister relative to that sentence. The Convention, however, refused to
hear it. [It will be remembered that a similar remonstrance was forwarded
by the English Government.]
M. de Malesherbes, according to his promise to the King, went to the
Temple at nine o'clock on the morning of the 17th?.
[Louis was fully prepared for his fate. During the calling of the votes
he asked M. de Malesherbes, "Have you not met near the Temple the White
Lady?"--" What do you mean?" replied he. "Do you not know," resumed the
King with a smile, "that when a prince of our house is about to die, a
female dressed in white is seen wandering about the palace? My friends,"
added he to his defenders, "I am about to depart before you for the land
of the just, but there, at least, we shall be reunited." In fact, his
Majesty's only apprehension seemed to be for his family.--ALISON.]
"All is lost," he said to Clery. "The King is condemned." The King, who
saw him arrive, rose to receive him.
[When M. de Malesherbes went to the Temple to announce the result of the
vote, he found Louis with his forehead resting on his hands, and absorbed
in a deep reverie. Without inquiring concerning his fate, he said: "For
two hours I have been considering whether, during my whole reign, I have
voluntarily given any cause of complaint to my subjects; and with perfect
sincerity I declare that I deserve no reproach at their hands, and that I
have never formed a wish but for their happiness." LACRETELLE.]
M. de Malesherbes, choked by sobs, threw himself at his feet. The King
raised him up and affectionately embraced him. When he could control his
voice, De Malesherbes informed the King of the decree sentencing him to
death; he made no movement of surprise or emotion, but seemed only
affected by the distress of his advocate, whom he tried to comfort.
On the 20th of January, at two in the afternoon, Louis XVI. was awaiting
his advocates, when he heard the approach of a numerous party. He stopped
with dignity at the door of his apartment, apparently unmoved: Garat then
told him sorrowfully that he was commissioned to communicate to him the
decrees of the Convention. Grouvelle, secretary of the Executive Council,
read them to him. The first declared Louis XVI. guilty of treason against
the general safety of the State; the second condemned him to death; the
third rejected any appeal to the people; and the fourth and last ordered
his execution in twenty-four hours. Louis, looking calmly round, took the
paper from Grouvelle, and read Garat a letter, in which he demanded from
the Convention three days to prepare for death, a confessor to assist him
in his last moments, liberty to see his family, and permission for them to
leave France. Garat took the letter, promising to submit it immediately
to the Convention.
Louis XVI. then went back into his room with great composure, ordered his
dinner, and ate as usual. There were no knives on the table, and his
attendants refused to let him have any. "Do they think me so cowardly,"
he exclaimed, "as to lay violent hands on myself? I am innocent, and I am
not afraid to die."
The Convention refused the delay, but granted some other demands which he
had made. Garat sent for Edgeworth de Firmont, the ecclesiastic whom
Louis XVI. had chosen, and took him in his own carriage to the Temple. M.
Edgeworth, on being ushered into the presence of the King, would have
thrown himself at his feet, but Louis instantly raised him, and both shed
tears of emotion. He then, with eager curiosity, asked various questions
concerning the clergy of France, several bishops, and particularly the
Archbishop of Paris, requesting him to assure the latter that he died
faithfully attached to his communion.--The clock having struck eight, he
rose, begged M. Edgeworth to wait, and retired with emotion, saying that
he was going to see his family. The municipal officers, unwilling to lose
sight of the King, even while with his family, had decided that he should
see them in the dining-room, which had a glass door, through which they
could watch all his motions without hearing what he said. At half-past
eight the door opened. The Queen, holding the Dauphin by the hand, Madame
Elisabeth, and Madame Royale rushed sobbing into the arms of Louis XVI.
The door was closed, and the municipal officers, Clery, and M. Edgeworth
placed themselves behind it. During the first moments, it was but a scene
of confusion and despair. Cries and lamentations prevented those who were
on the watch from distinguishing anything. At length the conversation
became more calm, and the Princesses, still holding the King clasped in
their arms, spoke with him in a low tone. "He related his trial to my
mother," says Madame Royale, "apologising for the wretches who had
condemned him. He told her that he would not consent to any attempt to
save him, which might excite disturbance in the country. He then gave my
brother some religious advice, and desired him, above all, to forgive
those who caused his death; and he gave us his blessing. My mother was
very desirous that the whole family should pass the night with my father,
but he opposed this, observing to her that he much needed some hours of
repose and quiet." After a long conversation, interrupted by silence and
grief, the King put an end to the painful meeting, agreeing to see his
family again at eight the next morning. "Do you promise that you will?"
earnestly inquired the Princesses. "Yes, yes," sorrowfully replied the
King.
["But when we were gone," says his daughter, "he requested that we might
not be permitted to return, as our presence afflicted him too much."]
At this moment the Queen held him by one arm, Madame Elisabeth by the
other, while Madame Royale clasped him round the waist, and the Dauphin
stood before him, with one hand in that of his mother. At the moment of
retiring Madame Royale fainted; she was carried away, and the King
returned to M. Edgeworth deeply depressed by this painful interview. The
King retired to rest about midnight; M. Edgeworth threw himself upon a
bed, and Clery took his place near the pillow of his master.
Next morning, the 21st of January, at five, the King awoke, called Clery,
and dressed with great calmness. He congratulated himself on having
recovered his strength by sleep. Clery kindled a fire,, and moved a chest
of drawers, out of which he formed an altar. M. Edgeworth put on his
pontifical robes, and began to celebrate mass. Clery waited on him, and
the King listened, kneeling with the greatest devotion. He then received
the communion from the hands of M. Edgeworth, and after mass rose with new
vigour, and awaited with composure the moment for going to the scaffold.
He asked for scissors that Clery might cut his hair; but the Commune
refused to trust him with a pair.
At this moment the drums were beating in the capital. All who belonged to
the armed sections repaired to their company with complete submission. It
was reported that four or five hundred devoted men, were to make a dash
upon the carriage, and rescue the King. The Convention, the Commune, the
Executive Council, and the Jacobins were sitting. At eight. in the
morning, Santerre, with a deputation from the Commune, the department, and
the criminal tribunal, repaired to the Temple. Louis XVI., on hearing
them arrive, rose and prepared to depart. He desired Clery to transmit
his last farewell to his wife, his sister, and his children; he gave him a
sealed packet, hair, and various trinkets, with directions to deliver
these articles to them.
[In the course of the morning the King said to me: "You will give this
seal to my son and this ring to the Queen, and assure her that it is with
pain I part with it. This little packet contains the hair of all my
family; you will give her that, too. Tell the Queen, my dear sister, and
my children, that, although I promised to see them again this morning, I
have resolved to spare them the pang of so cruel a separation. Tell them
how much it costs me to go away without receiving their embraces once
more!" He wiped away some tears, and then added, in the most mournful
accents, "I charge you to bear them my last farewell."--CLERY.]
He then clasped his hand and thanked him for his services. After this he
addressed himself to one of the municipal officers, requesting him to
transmit his last will to the Commune. This officer, who had formerly
been a priest, and was named Jacques Roux, brutally replied that his
business was to conduct him to execution, and not to perform his
commissions. Another person took charge of it, and Louis, turning towards
the party, gave with firmness the signal for starting.
Officers of gendarmerie were placed on the front seat of the carriage. The
King and M. Edgeworth occupied the back. During the ride, which was
rather long, the King read in M. Edgeworth's breviary the prayers for
persons at the point of death; the two gendarmes were astonished at his
piety and tranquil resignation. The vehicle advanced slowly, and amidst
universal silence. At the Place de la Revolution an extensive space had
been left vacant about the scaffold. Around this space were planted
cannon; the most violent of the Federalists were stationed about the
scaffold; and the vile rabble, always ready to insult genius, virtue, and
misfortune, when a signal is given it to do so, crowded behind the ranks
of the Federalists, and alone manifested some outward tokens of
satisfaction.
At ten minutes past ten the carriage stopped. Louis XVI., rising briskly,
stepped out into the Place. Three executioners came up; he refused their
assistance, and took off his clothes himself. But, perceiving that they
were going to bind his hands, he made a movement of indignation, and
seemed ready to resist. M. Edgeworth gave him a last look, and said,
"Suffer this outrage, as a last resemblance to that God who is about to be
your reward." At these words the King suffered himself to be bound and
conducted to the scaffold. All at once Louis hurriedly advanced to
address the people. "Frenchmen," said he, in a firm voice, "I die
innocent of the crimes which are imputed to me; I forgive the authors of
my death, and I pray that my blood may not fall upon France." He would
have continued, but the drums were instantly ordered to beat: their
rolling drowned his voice; the executioners laid hold of him, and M.
Edgeworth took his leave in these memorable words: "Son of Saint Louis,
ascend to heaven!" As soon as the blood flowed, furious wretches dipped
their pikes and handkerchiefs in it, then dispersed throughout Paris,
shouting "Vive la Republique! Vive la Nation!" and even went to the
gates of the Temple to display brutal and factious joy.
[The body of Louis was, immediately after the execution, removed to the
ancient cemetery of the Madeleine. Large quantities of quicklime were
thrown into the grave, which occasioned so rapid a decomposition that,
when his remains were sought for in 1816, it was with difficulty any part
could be recovered. Over the spot where he was interred Napoleon
commenced the splendid Temple of Glory, after the battle of Jena; and the
superb edifice was completed by the Bourbons, and now forms the Church of
the Madeleine, the most beautiful structure in Paris. Louis was executed
on the same ground where the Queen, Madame Elisabeth, and so many other
noble victims of the Revolution perished; where Robespierre and Danton
afterwards suffered; and where the Emperor Alexander and the allied
sovereigns took their station, when their victorious troops entered Paris
in 1814! The history of modern Europe has not a scene fraught with
equally interesting recollections to exhibit. It is now marked by the
colossal obelisk of blood-red granite which was brought from Thebes, in
Upper Egypt, in 1833, by the French Government.--ALLISON.]
The Royal Prisoners.--Separation of the Dauphin from His Family.
--Removal of the Queen.
On the morning of the King's execution, according to the narrative of
Madame Royale, his family rose at six: "The night before, my mother had
scarcely strength enough to put my brother to bed; She threw herself,
dressed as she was, on her own bed, where we heard her shivering with cold
and grief all night long. At a quarter-past six the door opened; we
believed that we were sent for to the King, but it was only the officers
looking for a prayer-book for him. We did not, however, abandon the hope
of seeing him, till shouts of joy from the infuriated populace told us
that all was over. In the afternoon my mother asked to see Clery, who
probably had some message for her; we hoped that seeing him would occasion
a burst of grief which might relieve the state of silent and choking agony
in which we saw her." The request was refused, and the officers who
brought the refusal said Clery was in "a frightful state of despair" at
not being allowed to see the royal family; shortly afterwards he was
dismissed from the Temple.
"We had now a little more freedom," continues the Princess; "our guards
even believed that we were about to be sent out of France; but nothing
could calm my mother's agony; no hope could touch her heart, and life or
death became indifferent to her. Fortunately my own affliction increased
my illness so seriously that it distracted her thoughts . . . . My
mother would go no more to the garden, because she must have passed the
door of what had been my father's room, and that she could not bear. But
fearing lest want of air should prove injurious to my brother and me,
about the end of February she asked permission to walk on the leads of the
Tower, and it was granted."
The Council of the Commune, becoming aware of the interest which these sad
promenades excited, and the sympathy with which they were observed from
the neighbouring houses, ordered that the spaces between the battlements
should be filled up with shutters, which intercepted the view. But while
the rules for the Queen's captivity were again made more strict, some of
the municipal commissioners tried slightly to alleviate it, and by means
of M. de Hue, who was at liberty in Paris, and the faithful Turgi, who
remained in the Tower, some communications passed between the royal family
and their friends. The wife of Tison, who waited on the Queen, suspected
and finally denounced these more lenient guardians,--[Toulan, Lepitre,
Vincent, Bruno, and others.]--who were executed, the royal prisoners being
subjected to a close examination.
"On the 20th of April," says Madame Royale, "my mother and I had just gone
to bed when Hebert arrived with several municipals. We got up hastily,
and these men read us a decree of the Commune directing that we should be
searched. My poor brother was asleep; they tore him from his bed under
the pretext of examining it. My mother took him up, shivering with cold.
All they took was a shopkeeper's card which my mother had happened to
keep, a stick of sealing-wax from my aunt, and from me 'une sacre coeur de
Jesus' and a prayer for the welfare of France. The search lasted from
half-past ten at night till four o'clock in the morning."
The next visit of the officials was to Madame Elisabeth alone; they found
in her room a hat which the King had worn during his imprisonment, and
which she had begged him to give her as a souvenir. They took it from her
in spite of her entreaties. "It was suspicious," said the cruel and
contemptible tyrants.
The Dauphin became ill with fever, and it was long before his mother, who
watched by him night and day, could obtain medicine or advice for him.
When Thierry was at last allowed to see him his treatment relieved the
most violent symptoms, but, says Madame Royale, "his health was never
reestablished. Want of air and exercise did him great mischief, as well
as the kind of life which this poor child led, who at eight years of age
passed his days amidst the tears of his friends, and in constant anxiety
and agony."
While the Dauphin's health was causing his family such alarm, they were
deprived of the services of Tison's wife, who became ill, and finally
insane, and was removed to the Hotel Dieu, where her ravings were reported
to the Assembly and made the ground of accusations against the royal
prisoners.
[This woman, troubled by remorse, lost her reason, threw herself at the
feet of the Queen, implored her pardon, and disturbed the Temple for many
days with the sight and the noise of her madness. The Princesses,
forgetting the denunciations of this unfortunate being, in consideration
of her repentance and insanity, watched over her by turns, and deprived
themselves of their own food to relieve her.--LAMARTINE, "History of the
Girondists," vol. iii., p.140.]
No woman took her place, and the Princesses themselves made their beds,
swept their rooms, and waited upon the Queen.
Far worse punishments than menial work were prepared for them. On 3d July
a decree of the Convention ordered that the Dauphin should be separated
from his family and "placed in the most secure apartment of the Tower."
As soon as he heard this decree pronounced, says his sister, "he threw
himself into my mother's arms, and with violent cries entreated not to be
parted from her. My mother would not let her son go, and she actually
defended against the efforts of the officers the bed in which she had
placed him. The men threatened to call up the guard and use violence. My
mother exclaimed that they had better kill her than tear her child from
her. At last they threatened our lives, and my mother's maternal
tenderness forced her to the sacrifice. My aunt and I dressed the child,
for my poor mother had no longer strength for anything. Nevertheless, when
he was dressed, she took him up in her arms and delivered him herself to
the officers, bathing him with her tears, foreseeing that she was never to
behold him again. The poor little fellow embraced us all tenderly, and
was carried away in a flood of tears. My mother's horror was extreme when
she heard that Simon, a shoemaker by trade, whom she had seen as a
municipal officer in the Temple, was the person to whom her child was
confided . . . . The officers now no longer remained in my mother's
apartment; they only came three times a day to bring our meals and examine
the bolts and bars of our windows; we were locked up together night and
day. We often went up to the Tower, because my brother went, too, from
the other side. The only pleasure my mother enjoyed was seeing him
through a crevice as he passed at a distance. She would watch for hours
together to see him as he passed. It was her only hope, her only
thought."
The Queen was soon deprived even of this melancholy consolation. On 1st
August, 1793, it was resolved that she should be tried. Robespierre
opposed the measure, but Barere roused into action that deep-rooted hatred
of the Queen which not even the sacrifice of her life availed to
eradicate. "Why do the enemies of the Republic still hope for success?"
he asked. "Is it because we have too long forgotten the crimes of the
Austrian? The children of Louis the Conspirator are hostages for the
Republic . . .but behind them lurks a woman who has been the cause of
all the disasters of France."
At two o'clock on the morning of the following day, the municipal officers
"awoke us," says Madame Royale, "to read to my mother the decree of the
Convention, which ordered her removal to the Conciergerie,
[The Conciergerie was originally, as its name implies, the porter's lodge
of the ancient Palace of Justice, and became in time a prison, from the
custom of confining there persons who had committed trifling offences
about the Court.]
preparatory to her trial. She heard it without visible emotion, and
without speaking a single word. My aunt and I immediately asked to be
allowed to accompany my mother, but this favour was refused us. All the
time my mother was making up a bundle of clothes to take with her, these
officers never left her. She was even obliged to dress herself before
them, and they asked for her pockets, taking away the trifles they
contained. She embraced me, charging me to keep up my spirits and my
courage, to take tender care of my aunt, and obey her as a second mother.
She then threw herself into my aunt's arms, and recommended her children
to her care; my aunt replied to her in a whisper, and she was then hurried
away. In leaving the Temple she struck her head against the wicket, not
having stooped low enough.
[Mathieu, the gaoler, used to say, "I make Madame Veto and her sister and
daughter, proud though they are, salute me; for the door is so low they
cannot pass without bowing."]
The officers asked whether she had hurt herself. 'No,' she replied,
'nothing can hurt me now."
The Last Moments of Marie Antoinette.
We have already seen what changes had been made in the Temple. Marie
Antoinette had been separated from her sister, her daughter, and her Son,
by virtue of a decree which ordered the trial and exile of the last
members of the family of the Bourbons. She had been removed to the
Conciergerie, and there, alone in a narrow prison, she was reduced to what
was strictly necessary, like the other prisoners. The imprudence of a
devoted friend had rendered her situation still more irksome. Michonnis, a
member of the municipality, in whom she had excited a warm interest, was
desirous of introducing to her a person who, he said, wished to see her
out of curiosity. This man, a courageous emigrant, threw to her a
carnation, in which was enclosed a slip of very fine paper with these
words: "Your friends are ready,"--false hope, and equally dangerous for
her who received it, and for him who gave it! Michonnis and the emigrant
were detected and forthwith apprehended; and the vigilance exercised in
regard to the unfortunate prisoner became from that day more rigorous than
ever.
[The Queen was lodged in a room called the council chamber, which was
considered as the moat unwholesome apartment in the Conciergerie on
account of its dampness and the bad smells by which it was continually
affected. Under pretence of giving her a person to wait upon her they
placed near her a spy,--a man of a horrible countenance and hollow,
sepulchral voice. This wretch, whose name was Barassin, was a robber and
murderer by profession. Such was the chosen attendant on the Queen of
France! A few days before her trial this wretch was removed and a
gendarme placed in her chamber, who watched over her night and day, and
from whom she was not separated, even when in bed, but by a ragged
curtain. In this melancholy abode Marie Antoinette had no other dress
than an old black gown, stockings with holes, which she was forced to mend
every day; and she was entirely destitute of shoes.--DU BROCA.]
Gendarmes were to mount guard incessantly at the door of her prison, and
they were expressly forbidden to answer anything that she might say to
them.
That wretch Hebert, the deputy of Chaumette, and editor of the disgusting
paper Pere Duchesne, a writer of the party of which Vincent, Ronsin,
Varlet, and Leclerc were the leaders--Hebert had made it his particular
business to torment the unfortunate remnant of the dethroned family. He
asserted that the family of the tyrant ought not to be better treated than
any sans-culotte family; and he had caused a resolution to be passed by
which the sort of luxury in which the prisoners in the Temple were
maintained was to be suppressed. They were no longer to be allowed either
poultry or pastry; they were reduced to one sort of aliment for breakfast,
and to soup or broth and a single dish for dinner, to two dishes for
supper, and half a bottle of wine apiece. Tallow candles were to be
furnished instead of wag, pewter instead of silver plate, and delft ware
instead of porcelain. The wood and water carriers alone were permitted to
enter their room, and that only accompanied by two commissioners. Their
food was to be introduced to them by means of a turning box. The numerous
establishment was reduced to a cook and an assistant, two men-servants,
and a woman-servant to attend to the linen.
As soon as this resolution was passed, Hebert had repaired to the Temple
and inhumanly taken away from the unfortunate prisoners even the most
trifling articles to which they attached a high value. Eighty Louis which
Madame Elisabeth had in reserve, and which she had received from Madame de
Lamballe, were also taken away. No one is more dangerous, more cruel,
than the man without acquirements, without education, clothed with a
recent authority. If, above all, he possess a base nature, if, like
Hebert, who was check-taker at the door of a theatre, and embezzled money
out of the receipts, he be destitute of natural morality, and if he leap
all at once from the mud of his condition into power, he is as mean as he
is atrocious. Such was Hebert in his conduct at the Temple. He did not
confine himself to the annoyances which we have mentioned. He and some
others conceived the idea of separating the young Prince from his aunt and
sister. A shoemaker named Simon and his wife were the instructors to whom
it was deemed right to consign him for the purpose of giving him a
sans-cullotte education. Simon and his wife were shut up in the Temple,
and, becoming prisoners with the unfortunate child, were directed to bring
him up in their own way. Their food was better than that of the
Princesses, and they shared the table of the municipal commissioners who
were on duty. Simon was permitted to go down, accompanied by two
commissioners, to the court of the Temple, for the purpose of giving the
Dauphin a little exercise.
Hebert conceived the infamous idea of wringing from this boy revelations
to criminate his unhappy mother. Whether this wretch imputed to the child
false revelations, or abused his, tender age and his condition to extort
from him what admissions soever he pleased, he obtained a revolting
deposition; and as the youth of the Prince did not admit of his being
brought before the tribunal, Hebert appeared and detailed the infamous
particulars which he had himself either dictated or invented.
It was on the 14th of October that Marie Antoinette appeared before her
judges. Dragged before the sanguinary tribunal by inexorable
revolutionary vengeance, she appeared there without any chance of
acquittal, for it was not to obtain her acquittal that the Jacobins had
brought her before it. It was necessary, however, to make some charges.
Fouquier therefore collected the rumours current among the populace ever
since the arrival of the Princess in France, and, in the act of
accusation, he charged her with having plundered the exchequer, first for
her pleasures, and afterwards in order to transmit money to her brother,
the Emperor. He insisted on the scenes of the 5th and 6th of October, and
on the dinners of the Life Guards, alleging that she had at that period
framed a plot, which obliged the people to go to Versailles to frustrate
it. He afterwards accused her of having governed her husband, interfered
in the choice of ministers, conducted the intrigues with the deputies
gained by the Court, prepared the journey to Varennes, provoked the war,
and transmitted to the enemy's generals all our plans of campaign. He
further accused her of having prepared a new conspiracy on the 10th of
August, of having on that day caused the people to be fired upon, having
induced her husband to defend himself by taxing him with cowardice;
lastly, of having never ceased to plot and correspond with foreigners
since her captivity in the Temple, and of having there treated her young
son as King. We here observe how, on the terrible day of long-deferred
vengeance, when subjects at length break forth and strike such of their
princes as have not deserved the blow, everything is distorted and
converted into crime. We see how the profusion and fondness for pleasure,
so natural to a young princess, how her attachment to her native country,
her influence over her husband, her regrets, always more indiscreet in a
woman than a man, nay, even her bolder courage, appeared to their inflamed
or malignant imaginations.
It was necessary to produce witnesses. Lecointre, deputy of Versailles,
who had seen what had passed on the 5th and 6th of October, Hebert, who
had frequently visited the Temple, various clerks in the ministerial
offices, and several domestic servants of the old Court were summoned..
Admiral d'Estaing, formerly commandant of the guard of Versailles; Manuel,
the ex-procureur of the Commune; Latour-du-Pin, minister of war in 1789;
the venerable Bailly, who, it was said, had been, with La Fayette, an
accomplice in the journey to Varennes; lastly, Valaze one of the
Girondists destined to the scaffold, were taken from their prisons and
compelled to give evidence.
No precise fact was elicited. Some had seen the Queen in high spirits
when the Life Guards testified their attachment; others had seen her vexed
and dejected while being conducted to Paris, or brought back from
Varennes; these had been present at splendid festivities which must have
cost enormous sums; those had heard it said in the ministerial offices
that the Queen was adverse to the sanction of the decrees. An ancient
waiting-woman of the Queen had heard the Duc de Coigny say, in 1788, that
the Emperor had already received two hundred millions from France to make
war upon the Turks.
The cynical Hebert, being brought before the unfortunate Queen, dared at
length to prefer the charges wrung from the young Prince. He said that
Charles Capet had given Simon an account of the journey to Varennes, and
mentioned La Fayette and Bailly as having cooperated in it. He then added
that this boy was addicted to odious and very premature vices for his age;
that he had been surprised by Simon, who, on questioning him, learned that
he derived from his mother the vices in which he indulged. Hebert said
that it was no doubt the intention of Marie Antoinette, by weakening thus,
early the physical constitution of her son, to secure to herself the means
of ruling him in case he should ever ascend the throne. The rumours which
had been whispered for twenty years by a malicious Court had given the
people a most unfavourable opinion of the morals of the Queen. That
audience, however, though wholly Jacobin, was disgusted at the accusations
of Hebert.
[Can there be a more infernal invention than that made against the. Queen
by Hdbert,--namely, that she had had an improper intimacy with her own
son? He made use of this sublime idea of which he boasted in order to
prejudice the women against the Queen, and to prevent her execution from
exciting pity. It had, however, no other effect than that of disgusting
all parties.--PRUDHOMME.]
He nevertheless persisted in supporting them.
[Hebert did not long survive her in whose sufferings he had taken such an
infamous part. He was executed on 26th March, 1794.]
The unhappy mother made no reply. Urged a new to explain herself, she
said, with extraordinary emotion, "I thought that human nature would
excuse me from answering such an imputation, but I appeal from it to the
heart of every mother here present." This noble and simple reply affected
all who heard it.
In the depositions of the witnesses, however, all was not so bitter for
Marie Antoinette. The brave D'Estaing, whose enemy she had been, would
not say anything to inculpate her, and spoke only of the courage which she
had shown on the 5th and 6th of October, and of the noble resolution which
she had expressed, to die beside her husband rather than fly. Manuel, in
spite of his enmity to the Court during the time of the Legislative
Assembly, declared that he could not say anything against the accused.
When the venerable Bailly was brought forward, who formerly so often
predicted to the Court the calamities which its imprudence must produce,
he appeared painfully affected; and when he was asked if he knew the wife
of Capet, "Yes," said he, bowing respectfully, "I have known Madame." He
declared that he knew nothing, and maintained that the declarations
extorted from the young Prince relative to the journey to Varennes were
false. In recompense for his deposition he was assailed with outrageous
reproaches, from which he might judge what fate would soon be awarded to
himself.
In all the evidence there appeared but two serious facts, attested by
Latour-du-Pin and Valaze, who deposed to them because they could not help
it. Latour-du-Pin declared that Marie Antoinette had applied to him for
an accurate statement of the armies while he was minister of war. Valaze,
always cold, but respectful towards misfortune, would not say anything to
criminate the accused; yet he could not help declaring that, as a member
of the commission of twenty-four, being charged with his colleagues to
examine the papers found at the house of Septeuil, treasurer of the civil
list, he had seen bonds for various sums signed Antoinette, which was very
natural; but he added that he had also seen a letter in which the minister
requested the King to transmit to the Queen the copy of the plan of
campaign which he had in his hands. The most unfavourable construction
was immediately put upon these two facts, the application for a statement
of the armies, and the communication of the plan of campaign; and it was
concluded that they could not be wanted for any other purpose than to be
sent to the enemy, for it was not supposed that a young princess should
turn her attention, merely for her own satisfaction, to matters of
administration and military, plans. After these depositions, several
others were received respecting the expenses of the Court, the influence
of the Queen in public affairs, the scene of the 10th of August, and what
had passed in the Temple; and the most vague rumours and most trivial
circumstances were eagerly caught at as proofs.
Marie Antoinette frequently repeated, with presence of mind and firmness,
that there was no precise fact against her;
[At first the Queen, consulting only her own sense of dignity, had
resolved on her trial to make no other reply to the questions of her
judges than "Assassinate me as you have already assassinated my husband!"
Afterwards, however, she determined to follow the example of the King,
exert herself in her defence, and leave her judges without any excuse or
pretest for putting her to death.--WEBER'S "Memoirs of Marie Antoinette."]
that, besides, though the wife of Louis XVI., she was not answerable for
any of the acts of his reign. Fouquier nevertheless declared her to be
sufficiently convicted; Chaveau-Lagarde made unavailing efforts to defend
her; and the unfortunate Queen was condemned to suffer the same fate as
her husband.
Conveyed back to the Conciergerie, she there passed in tolerable composure
the night preceding her execution, and, on the morning of the following
day, the 16th of October,
[The Queen, after having written and prayed, slept soundly for some hours.
On her waking, Bault's daughter dressed her and adjusted her hair with
more neatness than on other days. Marie Antoinette wore a white gown, a
white handkerchief covered her shoulders, a white cap her hair; a black
ribbon bound this cap round her temples .... The cries, the looks, the
laughter, the jests of the people overwhelmed her with humiliation; her
colour, changing continually from purple to paleness, betrayed her
agitation .... On reaching the scaffold she inadvertently trod on the
executioner's foot. "Pardon me," she said, courteously. She knelt for an
instant and uttered a half-audible prayer; then rising and glancing
towards the towers of the Temple, "Adieu, once again, my children," she
said; "I go to rejoin your father."--LAMARTINE.]
she was conducted, amidst a great concourse of the populace, to the fatal
spot where, ten months before, Louis XVI. had perished. She listened
with calmness to the exhortations of the ecclesiastic who accompanied her,
and cast an indifferent look at the people who had so often applauded her
beauty and her grace, and who now as warmly applauded her execution. On
reaching the foot of the scaffold she perceived the Tuileries, and
appeared to be moved; but she hastened to ascend the fatal ladder, and
gave herself up with courage to the executioner.
[Sorrow had blanched the Queen's once beautiful hair; but her features and
air still commanded the admiration of all who beheld her; her cheeks, pale
and emaciated, were occasionally tinged with a vivid colour at the mention
of those she had lost. When led out to execution, she was dressed in
white; she had cut off her hair with her own hands. Placed in a tumbrel,
with her arms tied behind her, she was taken by a circuitous route to the
Place de la Revolution, and she ascended the scaffold with a firm and
dignified step, as if she had been about to take her place on a throne by
the side of her husband.-LACRETELLE.]
The infamous wretch exhibited her head to the people, as he was accustomed
to do when he had sacrificed an illustrious victim.
The Last Separation.--Execution of Madame Elisabeth.
--Death of the Dauphin.
The two Princesses left in the Temple were now almost inconsolable; they
spent days and nights in tears, whose only alleviation was that they were
shed together. "The company of my aunt, whom I loved so tenderly," said
Madame Royale, "was a great comfort to me. But alas! all that I loved
was perishing around me, and I was soon to lose her also . . . . In
the beginning of September I had an illness caused solely by my anxiety
about my mother; I never heard a drum beat that I did not expect another
3d of September."--[when the head of the Princesse de Lamballe was carried
to the Temple.]
In the course of the month the rigour of their captivity was much
increased. The Commune ordered that they should only have one room; that
Tison (who had done the heaviest of the household work for them, and since
the kindness they showed to his insane wife had occasionally given them
tidings of the Dauphin) should be imprisoned in the turret; that they
should be supplied with only the barest necessaries; and that no one
should enter their room save to carry water and firewood. Their quantity
of firing was reduced, and they were not allowed candles. They were also
forbidden to go on the leads, and their large sheets were taken away,
"lest--notwithstanding the gratings!--they should escape from the
windows."
On 8th October, 1793, Madame Royale was ordered to go downstairs, that she
might be interrogated by some municipal officers. "My aunt, who was
greatly affected, would have followed, but they stopped her. She asked
whether I should be permitted to come up again; Chaumette assured her that
I should. 'You may trust,' said he, 'the word of an honest republican.
She shall return.' I soon found myself in my brother's room, whom I
embraced tenderly; but we were torn asunder, and I was obliged to go into
another room.--[This was the last time the brother and sister met] . . .
Chaumette then questioned me about a thousand shocking things of which
they accused my mother and aunt; I was so indignant at hearing such
horrors that, terrified as I was, I could not help exclaiming that they
were infamous falsehoods.
"But in spite of my tears they still pressed their questions. There were
some things which I did not comprehend, but of which I understood enough
to make me weep with indignation and horror . . . . They then asked me
about Varennes, and other things. I answered as well as I could without
implicating anybody. I had always heard my parents say that it were
better to die than to implicate anybody." When the examination was over
the Princess begged to be allowed to join her mother, but Chaumette said
he could not obtain permission for her to do so. She was then cautioned
to say nothing about her examination to her aunt, who was next to appear
before them. Madame Elisabeth, her niece declares, "replied with still
more contempt to their shocking questions."
The only intimation of the Queen's fate which her daughter and her
sister-in-law were allowed to receive was through hearing her sentence
cried by the newsman. But "we could not persuade ourselves that she was
dead," writes Madame Royale. "A hope, so natural to the unfortunate,
persuaded us that she must have been saved. For eighteen months I
remained in this cruel suspense. We learnt also by the cries of the
newsman the death of the Duc d'Orleans.
[The Duc d'Orleans, the early and interested propagator of the Revolution,
was its next victim. Billaud Varennes said in the Convention: "The time
has come when all the conspirators should be known and struck. I demand
that we no longer pass over in silence a man whom we seem to have
forgotten, despite the numerous facts against him. I demand that
D'ORLEANS be sent to the Revolutionary Tribunal." The Convention, once
his hireling adulators, unanimously supported the proposal. In vain he
alleged his having been accessory to the disorders of 5th October, his
support of the revolt on 10th August, 1792, his vote against the King on
17th January, 1793. His condemnation was pronounced. He then asked only
for a delay of twenty-four hours, and had a repast carefully prepared, on
which he feasted with avidity. When led out for execution he gazed with a
smile on the Palais Royal, the scene of his former orgies. He was detained
for a quarter of an hour before that palace by the order of Robespierre,
who had asked his daughter's hand, and promised in return to excite a
tumult in which the Duke's life should be saved. Depraved though he was,
he would not consent to such a sacrifice, and he met his fate with stoical
fortitude.--ALLISON, vol. iii., p. 172.]