Editor in continuation:
Events seemed molded expressly to produce the state of feeling which
marked that disastrous day, the 20th of June, 1792. It frequently
happens that nations, like individuals, rush wildly upon the very dangers
they apprehend, and select such courses as invite what they are most
solicitous to avoid. So it was with everything preceding this dreadful
day. By a series of singular occurrences I did not witness its horrors,
though in some degree their victim. Not to detain my readers
unnecessarily, I will proceed directly to the accident which withdrew me
from the scene.
The apartment of the Princesse de Lamballe, in the Pavilion of Flora,
looked from one side upon the Pont Royal. On the day of which I speak, a
considerable quantity of combustibles had been thrown from the bridge
into one of her rooms. The Princess, in great alarm, sent instantly for
me. She desired to have my English man servant, if he were not afraid,
secreted in her room, while she herself withdrew to another part of the
palace, till the extent of the intended mischief could be ascertained. I
assured Her Highness that I was not only ready to answer for my servant,
but would myself remain with him, as he always went armed, and I was so
certain of his courage and fidelity that I could not hesitate even to
trust my life in his hands.
“For God’s sake, ‘mia cara’,” exclaimed the Princess, “do not risk your
own safety, if you have any value for my friendship. I desire you not to
go near the Pavilion of Flora. Your servant’s going is quite sufficient.
Never again let me hear such a proposition. What! after having hitherto
conducted yourself so punctually, would you, by one rash act, devote
yourself to ruin, and deprive us of your valuable services?”
I begged Her Highness would pardon the ardour of the dutiful zeal I felt
for her in the moment of danger.
“Yes, yes,” continued she; “that is all very well; but this is not the
first time I have been alarmed at your too great intrepidity; and if ever
I hear of your again attempting to commit yourself so wantonly, I will
have you sent to Turin immediately, there to remain till you have
recovered your senses. I always thought English heads cool; but I
suppose your residence in France has changed the national character of
yours.”
Once more, with tears in my eyes, I begged her forgiveness, and, on my
knees, implored that she would not send me away in the hour of danger.
After having so long enjoyed the honour of her confidence, I trusted she
would overlook my fault, particularly as it was the pure emanation of my
resentment at any conspiracy against one I so dearly loved; and to whom I
had been under so many obligations, that the very idea of being deprived
of such a benefactress drove me frantic.
Her Highness burst into tears. “I know your heart,” exclaimed she; “but
I also know too well our situation, and it is that which makes me tremble
for the consequences which must follow your overstepping the bounds so
necessary to be observed by all of us at this horrid period.” And then
she called me again her cars ‘Inglesina’, and graciously condescended to
embrace me, and bathed my face with her tears, in token of her
forgiveness, and bade me sit down and compose myself, and weep no more.
Scarcely was I seated, when we were both startled by deafening shouts for
the head of Madame Veto, the name they gave the poor unfortunate Queen.
An immense crowd of cannibals and hired ruffians were already in the
Tuileries, brandishing all sorts of murderous weapons, and howling for
blood! My recollections from this moment are very indistinct. I know
that in an instant the apartment was filled; that the Queen, the
Princesse Elizabeth, all the attendants, even the King, I believe,
appeared there. I myself received a wound upon my hand in warding a blow
from my face; and in the turmoil of the scene, and of the blow, I
fainted, and was conveyed by some humane person to a place of safety, in
the upper part of the palace.
Thus deprived of my senses for several hours, I was spared the agony of
witnessing the scenes of horror that succeeded. For two or three days I
remained in a state of so much exhaustion and alarm, that when the
Princess came to me I did not know her, nor even where I was.
As soon as I was sufficiently recovered, places were taken for me and
another person in one of the common diligences, by which I was conveyed
to Passy, where the Princess came to me in the greatest confusion.
My companion in the palace was the widow of one of the Swiss guards, who
had been murdered on the 6th of October, in defending the Queen’s
apartment at Versailles. The poor woman had been herself protected by
Her Majesty, and accompanied me by the express order of the Princesse de
Lamballe. What the Princess said to her on departing, I know not, for I
only caught the words “general insurrection,” on hearing which the
afflicted woman fell into a fit. To me, Her Highness merely exclaimed,
“Do not come to Paris till you hear from me;” and immediately set off to
return to the Tuileries.
However, as usual, my courage soon got the better of my strength, and of
every consideration of personal safety. On the third day, I proposed to
the person who took care of me that we should both walk out together,
and, if there appeared no symptoms of immediate danger, it was agreed
that we might as well get into one of the common conveyances, and proceed
forthwith to Paris; for I could no longer repress my anxiety to learn
what was going on there, and the good creature who was with me was no
less impatient.
When we got into a diligence, I felt the dread of another severe lecture
like the last, and thought it best not to incur fresh blame by new
imprudence. I therefore told the driver to set us down on the high road
near Paris leading to the Bois de Boulogne. But before we got so far,
the woods resounded with the howling of mobs, and we heard, “Vive le roi”
vociferated, mingled with “Down with the King,”--“Down with the Queen;”
and, what was still more horrible, the two parties were in actual bloody
strife, and the ground was strewn with the bodies of dead men, lying like
slaughtered sheep.
It was fortunate that we were the only persons in the vehicle. The
driver, observing our extreme agitation, turned round to us. “Nay, nay,”
cried he; “do not alarm yourselves. It is only the constitutionalists
and the Jacobins fighting against each other. I wish the devil had them
both.”
It was evident, however, that, though the man was desirous of quieting
our apprehensions, he was considerably disturbed by his own; for though
he acknowledged he had a wife and children in Paris, who he hoped were
safe, still he dared not venture to proceed, but said, if we wished to be
driven back, he would take us to any place we liked, out of Paris.
Our anxiety to know what was going forward at the Tuileries was now
become intolerable; and the more so, from the necessity we felt of
restraining our feelings. At last, however, we were in some degree
relieved from this agony of reserve.
“God knows,” exclaimed the driver, “what will be the consequence of all
this bloodshed! The poor King and Queen are greatly to be pitied!”
This ejaculation restored our courage, and we said he might drive us
wherever he chose out of the sight of those horrors; and it was at length
settled that he should take us to Passy. “Oh,” cried he, “if you will
allow me, I will take you to my father’s house there; for you seem more
dead than alive, both of you, and ought to go where you can rest in quiet
and safety.”
My companion, who was a German, now addressed me in that language.
“German!” exclaimed the driver on hearing her. “German! Why, I am a
German myself, and served the good King, who is much to be pitied, for
many years; and when I was wounded, the Queen, God bless her! set me up
in the world, as I was made an invalid; and I have ever since been
enabled to support my family respectably. D---- the Assembly! I shall
never be a farthing the better for them!”
“Oh,” replied I, “then I suppose you are not a Jacobin?”
The driver, with a torrent of curses, then began execrating the very name
of Jacobin. This emboldened me to ask him when he had left Paris. He
replied, “Only this very morning,” and added that the Assembly had shut
the gates of the Tuileries under the pretence of preventing the King and
Queen from being assassinated. “But that is all a confounded lie,”
continued he, “invented to keep out the friends of the Royal Family. But,
God knows, they are now so fallen, they have few such left to be turned
away!”
“I am more enraged,” pursued he, “at the ingratitude of the nobility than
I am at these hordes of bloodthirsty plunderers, for we all know that the
nobility owe everything to the King. Why do they not rise en masse to
shield the Royal Family from these bloodhounds? Can they imagine they
will be spared if the King should be murdered? I have no patience with
them!”
I then asked him our fare. “Two livres is the fare, but you shall not
pay anything. I see plainly, ladies, that you are not what you assume to
be.”
“My good man,” replied I, “we are not; and therefore take this louis d’or
for your trouble.”
He caught my hand and pressed it to his lips, exclaiming, “I never in my
life knew a man who was faithful to his King, that God did not provide
for.”
He then took us to Passy, but advised us not to remain at the place where
we had been staying; and fortunate enough it was for us that we did not,
for the house was set on fire and plundered by a rebel mob very soon
after.
I told the driver how much I was obliged to him for his services, and he
seemed delighted when I promised to give him proofs of my confidence in
his fidelity.
“If,” said I, “you can find out my servant whom I left in Paris, I will
give you another louis d’or.” I was afraid, at first, to mention where
he was to look for him.
“If he be not dead,” replied the driver, “I will find him out.”
“What!” cried I, “even though he should be at the Tuileries?”
“Why, madame, I am one of the national guard. I have only to put on my
uniform to be enabled to go to any part of the palace I please. Tell me
his name, and where you think it likely he may be found, and depend upon
it I will bring him to you.”
“Perhaps,” continued he, “it is your husband disguised as a servant; but
no matter. Give me a clue, and I’ll warrant you he shall tell you the
rest himself by this time to-morrow.”
“Well, then,” replied I, “he is in the Pavilion of Flora.”
“What, with the Princesse de Lamballe? Oh, I would go through fire and
water for that good Princess! She has done me the honour to stand
godmother to one of my children, and allows her a pension.”
I took him at his word. We changed our quarters to his father’s house, a
very neat little cottage, about a quarter of a mile from the town. He
afterwards rendered me many services in going to and fro from Passy to
Paris; and, as he promised, brought me my servant.
When the poor fellow arrived, his arm was in a sling. He had been
wounded by a musket shot, received in defence of the Princess. The
history of his disaster was this:
On the night of the riot, as he was going from the Pont Royal to the
apartment of Her Highness, he detected a group of villains under her
windows. Six of them were attempting to enter by a ladder. He fired,
and two fell. While he was reloading, the others shot at him. Had he
not, in the flurry of the moment, fired both his pistols at the same
time, he thinks he should not have been wounded, but might have punished
the assailant. One of the men, he said, could have been easily taken by
the national guard, who so glaringly encouraged the escape that he could
almost swear the guard was a party concerned. The loss of blood had so
exhausted him that he could not pursue the offender himself, whom
otherwise he could have taken without any difficulty.
As the employing of my servant had only been proposed, and the sudden
interruption of my conversation with Her Highness by the riot had
prevented my ever communicating the project to him, I wondered how he got
into the business, or ascertained so soon that the apartment of the
Princess was in danger. He explained that he never had heard of its
being so; but my own coachman having left me at the palace that day, and
not hearing of me for some time, had driven home, and, fearing that my
not returning arose from something which had happened, advised him to go
to the Pont Royal and hear what he could learn, as there was a report of
many persons having been murdered and thrown over the bridge.
My man took the advice, and armed himself to be ready in case of attack.
It was between one and two o’clock after midnight when he went. The
first objects he perceived were these miscreants attempting to scale the
palace.
He told me that the Queen had been most grossly insulted; that the gates
of the Tuileries had been shut in consequence; that a small part alone
remained open to the public, who were kept at their distance by a
national ribbon, which none could pass without being instantly arrested.
This had prevented his apprising the Princess of the attempt which he had
accidentally defeated, and which he wished me to communicate to her
immediately. I did so by letter, which my good driver carried to Paris,
and delivered safe into the hands of our benefactress.
The surprise of the Princess on hearing from me, and her pleasure at my
good fortune in finding by accident such means, baffles all description.
Though she was at the time overwhelmed with the imminent dangers which
threatened her, yet she still found leisure to show her kindness to those
who were doing their best, though in vain, to serve her. The following
letter, which she sent me in reply, written amidst all the uneasiness it
describes, will speak for her more eloquently than my praises:
“I can understand your anxiety. It was well for you that you were
unconscious of the dreadful scenes which were passing around you on that
horrid day. The Princesse de Tarente, Madame de Tourzel, Madame de
Mockau, and all the other ladies of the household owed the safety of
their lives to one of the national guards having given his national
cockade to the Queen. Her Majesty placed it on her head, unperceived by
the mob. One of the gentlemen of the King’s wardrobe provided the King
and the Princesse Elizabeth with the same impenetrable shield. Though
the cannibals came for murder, I could not but admire the enthusiastic
deference that was shown to this symbol of authority, which instantly
paralyzed, the daggers uplifted for our extermination.
“Merlin de Thionville was the stoic head of this party. The Princesse
Elizabeth having pointed him out to me, I ventured to address him
respecting the dangerous situation to which the Royal Family were daily
exposed. I flattered him upon his influence over the majority of the
faubourgs, to which only we could look for the extinction of these
disorders. He replied that the despotism of the Court had set a bad
example to the people; that he felt for the situation of the royal party
as individuals, but he felt much more for the safety of the French
nation, who were in still greater danger than Their Majesties had to
dread, from the Austrian faction, by which a foreign army had been
encouraged to invade the territory of France, where they were now waiting
the opportunity of annihilating French liberty forever!
“To this Her Majesty replied, ‘When the deputies of the Assembly have
permitted, nay, I may say, encouraged this open violation of the King’s
asylum, and, by their indifference to the safety of all those who
surround us, have sanctioned the daily insults to which we have been, and
still are, exposed, it is not to be wondered, at that all Sovereigns
should consider it their interest to make common cause with us, to crush
internal commotions, levelled, not only against the throne, and the
persons of the Sovereign and his family, but against the very principle
of monarchy itself.’
“Here the King, though much intimidated for the situation of the Queen
and his family, for whose heads the wretches were at that very moment
howling in their ears, took up the conversation.
“‘These cruel facts,’ said he, ‘and the menacing situation you even now
witness, fully justify our not rejecting foreign aid, though God knows
how deeply I deplore the necessity of such a cruel resource! But, when
all internal measures of conciliation have been trodden under foot, and
the authorities, who ought to check it and protect us from these cruel
outrages, are only occupied in daily fomenting the discord between us and
our subjects; though a forlorn hope, what other hope is there of safety?
I foresee the drift of all these commotions, and am resigned; but what
will become of this misguided nation, when the head of it shall be
destroyed?’
“Here the King, nearly choked by his feelings, was compelled to pause for
a moment, and he then proceeded.
“‘I should not feel it any sacrifice to give up the guardianship of the
nation, could I, in so doing, insure its future tranquillity; but I
foresee that my blood, like that of one of my unhappy brother
Sovereigns,--[Charles the First, of England.]--will only open the
flood-gates of human misery, the torrent of which, swelled with the best
blood of France, will deluge this once peaceful realm.’
“This, as well as I can recollect, is the substance of what passed at the
castle on this momentous day. Our situation was extremely doubtful, and
the noise and horrid riots were at times so boisterous, that frequently
we could not, though so near them, distinguish a word the King and Queen
said; and yet, whenever the leaders of these organized ruffians spoke or
threatened, the most respectful stillness instantly prevailed.
“I weep in silence for misfortunes, which I fear are inevitable! The
King, the Queen, the Princesse Elizabeth and myself, with many others
under this unhappy roof, have never ventured to undress or sleep in bed,
till last night. None of us any longer reside on the ground floor.
“By the very manly exertions of some of the old officers incorporated in
the national army, the awful riot I have described was overpowered, and
the mob, with difficulty, dispersed. Among these, I should particularize
Generals de Vomenil, de Mandat, and de Roederer. Principally by their
means the interior of the Tuileries was at last cleared, though partial
mobs, such as you have often witnessed, still subsist.
“I am thus particular in giving you a full account of this last
revolutionary commotion, that your prudence may still keep you at a
distance from the vortex. Continue where you are, and tell your man
servant how much I am obliged to him, and, at the same time, how much I
am grieved at his being wounded! I knew nothing of the affair but from
your letter and your faithful messenger. He is an old pensioner of mine,
and a good honest fellow. You may depend on him. Serve yourself,
through him, in communicating with me. Though he has had a limited
education, he is not wanting in intellect. Remember that honesty, in
matters of such vital import, is to be trusted before genius.
“My apartment appears like a barrack, like a bear garden, like anything
but what it was! Numbers of valuable things have been destroyed, numbers
carried off. Still, notwithstanding all the horrors of these last days,
it delights me to be able to tell you that no one in the service of the
Royal Family failed in duty at this dreadful crisis. I think we may
firmly rely on the inviolable attachment of all around us. No jealousy,
no considerations of etiquette, stood in the way of their exertions to
show themselves worthy of the situations they hold. The Queen showed the
greatest intrepidity during the whole of these trying scenes.
“At present, I can say no more. Petion, the Mayor of Paris, has just
been announced; and, I believe, he wishes for an audience of Her Majesty,
though he never made his appearance during the whole time of the riots in
the palace. Adieu, mia cara Inglesina!”
The receipt of this letter, however it might have affected me to hear
what Her Highness suffered, in common with the rest of the unfortunate
royal inmates of the Tuileries, gave me extreme pleasure from the
assurance it contained of the firmness of those nearest to the sufferers.
I was also sincerely gratified in reflecting on the probity and
disinterested fidelity of this worthy man, which contrasted him, so
strikingly and so advantageously to himself, with many persons of birth
and education, whose attachment could not stand the test of the trying
scenes of the Revolution, which made them abandon and betray, where they
had sworn an allegiance to which they were doubly bound by gratitude.
My man servant was attended, and taken the greatest care of. The
Princess never missed a day in sending to inquire after his health; and,
on his recovery, the Queen herself not only graciously condescended to
see him, but, besides making him a valuable present, said many flattering
and obliging things of his bravery and disinterestedness.
I should scarcely have deemed these particulars honourable as they are to
the feelings of the illustrious personages from whom they
proceeded--worth mentioning in a work of this kind, did they not give
indications of character rarely to be met with (and, in their case, how
shamefully rewarded!), from having occurred at a crisis when their minds
were occupied in affairs of such deep importance, and amidst the
appalling dangers which hourly threatened their own existence.
Her Majesty’s correspondence with foreign Courts had been so much
increased by these scenes of horror, especially her correspondence with
her relations in Italy, that, ere long, I was sent for back to Paris.