How came her little brother to be alone too? Why, Simon accepted an
office which he liked better than that of being Louis's guardian, and
left him on the 19th of January. Nobody seems to have remembered to
appoint another guardian; and Louis was alone, all day and all night,
for months after.
We cannot dwell upon this part of his story. We know little of it; and
that little is terrible. There was a broken bell in his room; but he
was so afraid of the people that he never rang it. He might, it is
said, have left the room: but he was very weak and ill, and seems to
have grown bewildered. He had not strength to make his own bed; and it
was never made for six months: nor was the bedding changed, nor even his
shirt, nor the windows opened in all that time. A pitcher of water was
put into his room sometimes; but he never washed himself. There he lay,
feeble, and frightened at every noise, surrounded with filth, and
covered with vermin, scarcely knowing day from night,--with no voice
near to rouse him, no candle in the longest winter nights, no books, no
play, no desire for any of these things, no cheerful thoughts in his own
mind, and his weak body feverish and aching. Was any poor man's child
ever so miserable?
Let us pass on to a brighter day, which came at last.
On the 28th of July following, there was much noise in the streets, and
bustle in the prison, so early as six in the morning; and some
finely-dressed gentlemen entered the poor boy's room. He did not know
who they were; and they said little, and soon went away. They were,
however, sufficiently impressed with what they saw to take some measures
for Louis's relief. They had been sent by the Convention, on the
downfall and death of the great revolutionary leader, Robespierre, to
see what was the state of things at the Temple; and in consequence of
their report, a person named Laurent was appointed to visit the royal
children.
At last, Louis found himself visited, several times in the day, by one
whom he need not be afraid of. Laurent spoke tenderly to him, and told
him he should be better taken care of. The dirty bed was carried away;
the window was opened, and the room cleaned; and then a clean
comfortable bed was brought in. The best thing was that Louis was put
into a warm-bath; and Laurent cleansed him from head to foot. Louis was
sorry to see Laurent leave the room; but he knew he would soon be back
again; and never failed to appear three times during the day. He would
have done more for the poor boy: he would have changed his room, and
found him amusements, and had him well nursed, but that he feared being
dismissed if he showed too much indulgence at once; and that then Louis
would be allowed to relapse into his former state. Perhaps it was
better for the boy that the improvement in his condition took place
gradually; for it might have overpowered him to have had people about
him, taking care of him all day, after so many months spent entirely
alone.
In November there was another Commission sent to the prison, to give
further account of Louis. One of the visitors, a kind-hearted
gentleman, named Gomier, remained to assist Laurent in his charge.
Gomier devoted himself to the boy, and made him as comfortable as he
could be made in his diseased state. Louis need not fear the long dark
winter evenings this year; for Gomier had lights brought, as soon as it
grew dusk. Gomier passed many hours of the day in talking with him, and
got him to play sometimes. Gomier rubbed the swollen joints of his
knees and wrists, and obtained leave to give him such exercise as he
could take. He did not carry him at once into the open air, but removed
him into a little parlour, where Louis seemed so happy that it touched
the heart of his kind guardian. Then Gomier and Laurent took him to the
leads again, and wished him to go there every fine day. They used all
gentle means to tempt him up, and to amuse him when there,--but poor
Louis was now too weak to enjoy air and exercise. He complained
directly of being tired, and begged to go down: and his pleasure was to
spend the whole day quietly by the fire-side. It was better to indulge
him in this; for it was clear that he could never again be well, and
that all that could be done was to make his decline as easy as possible.
He had several attacks of fever during the winter; and his knees swelled
more and more. Laurent had to leave him; but happily a man no less kind
succeeded him in his charge. This man's name was Loine. During the
spring the boy's strength failed, day by day. He was attended by good
surgeons, who saw that he must die, but did what they could to give him
ease. His mind had now become dull and confused; but he had no pain.
Except when he had occasional fever fits, he seemed in an easy state,
and died, at length, quite peacefully. He breathed his last on the 9th
of June, 1795, at three o'clock in the afternoon, his age being ten
years and two months.
His sister then felt as if she was quite alone: but it was not for long;
and in the interval she was treated kindly. On the 19th of December
following, which happened to be her seventeenth birthday, she was
released from the Temple, and sent to her uncles and aunts, with whom
she lived from that time forward. She married her cousin, the Duke
d'Angouleme, and is still living, having seen her family once more
restored to the throne of France, and again deposed for tyranny. No
cruelty was inflicted upon them in the course of this last change. They
were quietly sent into a foreign country, where they are now living,
surrounded by all the comforts and luxuries suitable to their rank; and
their gentle punishment is no more than, in the opinion of almost
everybody but themselves, their ignorant misuse of power deserves.
The pictures of human life which are here given are almost too sad and
dreary to be dwelt upon. But we must dwell upon them long enough to
learn from them one important thing. We are accustomed to say that the
sufferings of men come from the hand of God, and ought to be submitted
to with perfect patience on that account. This is true with respect to
many of the woes of mankind; but we are far too hasty in declaring this
occasionally where it is not true.
How is it in the cases before us? God gave to the French nation one of
the richest, gayest, and most beautiful countries in the world. This
country, with its sunny hills, its fertile plains, its great forests,
and brimming rivers, can easily produce more of all the good things of
life than are wanted for the use of all its inhabitants. No man, woman,
or child within its boundaries ought ever to be in want of the comforts
of life. God has also given to the people of that country affectionate
hearts, and loyal tempers: as was shown by their long forbearance with
their rulers, under cruel oppression. If such a people in such a land
were miserable, some living in pinching poverty and gross ignorance, and
others in tyranny and selfishness which brought upon them a cruel
retribution, let no one dare to say that such misery was from the will
of God. God showed what his will was when he placed beings with loving
hearts in the midst of the fruitful land. They might and must have been
happy, but for their misuse of his gifts.
The mischief cannot be undone: the misery cannot now be helped: but men
may learn from it not to allow such a case to happen again. It is not
only France that has been ignorant, and guilty, and miserable. Every
country is full of blessings given by the hand of God; and in every
country are those blessings misused, more or less, as they were in
France. If every child, as he grows up, was taught this truth--taught
to reflect how all men may have their share of these blessings who are
willing to work for them, there would be no more danger of such woe as
we have been contemplating. It would then appear as impious as it
really is to call God the author of sufferings which need never happen.
Instead of crying to Him for mercy under intolerable misery, all might
then bless Him for having placed His children on a fair and fruitful
earth, where all may have their fill and dwell in peace.