'Having been united to my husband for fifty-two years I have
entertained no opinions differing from his.'
[Then followed their signatures.]
We had great difficulty in persuading Monsieur de Mouchy to agree to
answer the aforesaid questions; at first he positively refused,
declaring that he would never do anything so revolting. I consulted
different members of his family and some of his companions in
misfortune, who said that it was impossible for him to escape answering
the questions, and that the answers given, and which I have just
written down, were quite sufficient. There were always, they said, some
etceteras. Certain persons of whom I have spoken, who were always too
sanguine, thought that the interrogatories would hasten the acts of
liberation; but, on the contrary, we were not left long in peace, and
the harsh treatment increased. Then the conspiracy entered into by
Vincent Savart and Grandmont (which I believe was the only real one)
broke out. We were then forbidden to walk in the courtyard or to
receive newspapers; and we were extremely restricted in every respect.
After a while we were again allowed to have the newspapers, but never
again to walk except in the galleries, where it was impossible to take
a step without running into one another. So many persons were brought
in that every place was full, although many were sent off to the
tribunal every day.
Danton, Lacroix, Camille Desmoulins, etc. arrived. There was a knocking
at our door at six o'clock, and we were told to prepare to move our
quarters. The turnkey said to me 'Hurry! some fine people are coming
and we need this room as a place of close confinement.' I asked him
where the room was which was to be given us; he did not know, but the
jailer who followed conducted me to it. It was, Monsieur and Madame de
Mouchy thought, sufficiently large to accommodate their daughter, if
she could be brought to the Luxembourg. There was a fireplace in it
which gave me infinite satisfaction whenever I saw Monsieur de Mouchy
warming himself in front of it; for he had been freezing for five
months, as we had only one little stove, which gave him the headache
whenever the fire was lighted in it.
On the 5th of April, 1794, about a fortnight after we had been
established in our new lodgings, a convoy arrived from Chantilly.
Monsieur Randon de la Tour, who was of the party, came very early in
the morning to tell our distinguished old couple that Madame de Duras
was in Paris, and had positively received orders to come to the
Luxembourg during the day. They were perfectly delighted. But the whole
day passed and she did not come; and we learned that she was at the
Plessis. We hoped that she was there only temporarily; as she still did
not come we sent the most urgent petitions to the administrators for
her transfer. Hopes were held out to us, but Providence had decreed
otherwise; and if our prayers had been answered, she would not now be
living. After a while however we began to hope again. One day a man
named Vernet said to me in a mysterious tone, 'There is some one of
your acquaintance below whom the citizen Mouchy, will be glad to see.'
I said, 'Surely it must be the Citizeness Duras.' (He knew that her
father had asked to have her sent here as he had himself carried two
messages to the Committee of General Security.) Vernet replied, 'I
cannot say; there are several persons.' I ran to repeat the
conversation to Monsieur and Madame de Mouchy, who did not doubt it was
their daughter with other ladies whose husbands were in the Luxembourg
and who had petitioned to be allowed to join them. We arranged the room
so as to be able to put a bed in for her; and to our astonishment,
after waiting a whole hour, Madame la Maréchale de Noailles, Madame la
Duchesse d'Ayen, and Madame la Vicomtesse de Noailles entered. Monsieur
de Mouchy was entirely upset by this. He had a very bad cold, and his
fever rose immediately. He greatly dreaded the imprudence of his
sister-in-law, who was very light-headed. He said that nothing could be
more disagreeable to him than to have her so near him. These ladies
told how, after having been tossed about from prison to prison, they
had with much difficulty obtained permission to be sent to the
Luxembourg that they might be near him. They were lodged above us in an
_entresol_. The apartment was soon prepared. The furniture was very
scanty, and I undertook to arrange it; I never saw worse beds. These
ladies, like most of those who were condemned in advance, entered the
prison feeling quite sure of being soon restored to liberty. As usual,
only fifty francs had been left to each of them by the turnkeys; they
were advised to provide themselves with a little more cash. Madame la
Maréchale had twelve hundred francs and the Vicomtesse, her
granddaughter, had two hundred francs. They were told that this would
be enough for their expenses for a month. This money did not last them
very long as it was all taken a short time after in the well remembered
general search. The following is a detailed account of the manner in
which our search was conducted. In the morning, as I opened the
shutters of my room, I saw an armed guard in the courtyard,--an unusual
circumstance. I went out into the corridor to get some wood which was
piled up there, and found four musketeers at our doorway with the
jailer, who said, 'Go back into your room, Citizeness.' I said, 'I am
not going out; I am going to get some wood.' 'Go back, I tell you.' I
obeyed trembling and fearing that something was about to happen to
Monsieur and Madame la Maréchale. I went up to Madame la Maréchale's
bed and said to her as quietly as possible, 'I don't know what is going
on, but there are guards in the court and in the corridor, and the
jailer would not allow me to get any wood.' She answered, 'I thought I
heard them. My God! what can it be?' I went back to the window and saw
that there were musketeers also on the pavilion opposite, which
somewhat reassured me. I concluded that it was a general arrangement
for the whole house. Two sentinels had been posted at our door, and I
tried to have some talk with them. One good-natured fellow to whom I
furtively gave a glass of wine said to me in a low voice: 'We do not
know why we are here. Orders were sent to the section of the
Observatory for us to rise at three o'clock this morning; we were led
here, and ordered not to speak to any one nor to allow any one at all
to come out of the apartments.' We did not learn very much from that
interview. I made ten attempts to go up to see Mesdames de Noailles,
but was always prevented. Nothing was allowed to enter the house;
dinner was not brought in till five o'clock in the evening. We
questioned the turnkeys, but they said that they knew nothing. We were
obliged to go to bed without finding out anything about what was going
on. The sentinels remained at our doors all night, or rather for four
days, as we were among the last who were searched; and we had no
communication with our neighbours till the second day, when one of them
knocked gently at an unused door which opened into our apartment and
told us that a very strict search was going on, that money, scissors,
knives, etc. were being taken. We made the disclosure to Monsieur and
Madame de Boisgelin in the same way. A man who waited upon them had
gone out the day before to get some water and had not returned.
At last I obtained permission to go to see Mesdames de Noailles; the
distinguished Vicomtesse had made the beds, washed the dishes, and in
spite of all was in fine spirits. She joked about her labours, which
were quite extensive, and the more so since the deafness of the three
ladies caused them frequently to misunderstand one another. At night
she tied one end of a string to her arm and the other to her
grandmother's bed so that the latter might waken her if she needed her
during the night. She dressed her, attended to an abscess she had, and
also to one of her mother's. She had scarcely time to breathe, and her
zeal stood her instead of natural strength. I had, as I have said,
obtained permission to go and wait upon her. I had plenty to do, for I
rendered the same services to Monsieur and Madame de Boisgelin.
Our turn to be searched came at last on the fourth day, at eleven
o'clock in the morning. The sentinels had been withdrawn the day
before, at ten o'clock at night. Monsieur de Baquencourt, who lodged in
our quarter, took advantage of the first opportunity to come and tell
us that the search was terrible, that a prisoner had assured him that
he had been entirely stripped, that he had at first concealed his
_assignats_, but had afterward shown them as he preferred to give up
everything rather than to get into trouble. The idea of being stripped
and searched worried us very much; but there was no getting out of it.
All took place as he foretold; the municipal authorities and the guards
made the search. When they came to the _assignats_ I said, 'Citizens,
are you not going to count them?' One of them answered scornfully, 'We
need not count them in order to conquer the enemies of the Republic.'
'I am sure of that,' I replied; 'for they could not be conquered with
paper.' Madame de Mouchy, made a sign to me to be silent. Eight or ten
days after, the committee ordered the account of each prisoner to be
made out over again. This was done in the keeper's apartment. Then we
went back to the same old life. We tried to get accustomed to doing
without scissors and knives, but it was very inconvenient; and what was
still more disagreeable, the turnkeys, who formerly could receive money
for small services rendered, were forbidden to do so any longer, and
this made them very cross. The establishment of a public table was also
spoken of, which greatly distressed Madame de Mouchy. Soon after this a
commission was appointed to examine the prisoners; a good many of them
were anxious for it. The day it was announced loud cries of 'Vive la
Republique!' were heard in the galleries. It did not take place,
however, till two months afterward. One day about that time I was
sitting at work when some one called for me. I found at the door the
jailer (no longer the good Benoît) with two turnkeys, who asked me:
'What are you doing here?'
'I have been here for six months with the Citizen Mouchy and his wife.'
'Very well; but what are you doing here?'
'I do whatever I can for them.'
'Where is your entry in the jail-book?'
'I have none; I came here voluntarily.'
'You were not arrested, then?'
'No.'
'Are you their confidential friend?'
'Yes.'
'What is your name?'
I gave my signature. I asked him why he asked me all these questions.
'You are not going to send me away?'
'Oh, no! Benoît's papers are not properly drawn up, and I am taking a
census of all who are in the house.'
Madame de Mouchy was very much agitated during this examination. She
was reassured when she learned that it was only a census; but I was
not. I endeavoured not to show to her the anxiety I felt and which was
only too well founded.
One morning, about a month after this, the same jailer came into Madame
la Maréchale's room and said to her: 'I have come to inform you that
you must send away your confidential attendant within twenty-four
hours; I have just received the order.' She replied, 'Citizen, I cannot
do without her; I am very infirm, and so is my husband.' I asked him if
I could stay if I became a prisoner. 'I do not know.' I begged him to
send us the first prison-director who came to the place. He agreed to
do so. I sent for Vernet, that he might speak for me. Madame de Mouchy
was so good as to implore him so earnestly to do me this service that I
could not help shedding tears; she offered to give him all the jewels
and _assignats_ she had left. He would not accept anything; but
promised to do all we asked, and did nothing. I gave him a petition I
had written to the Committee of Police, in which I requested most
earnestly to be enrolled as a prisoner. I represented to them the
infirm condition of Monsieur and Madame de Mouchy, how impossible it
was for them to be left alone, how long I had been with them, and added
that I thought it a Republican virtue to assist suffering humanity. At
the same time I asked the jailer to allow me to wait for an answer; and
I begged Vernet to bring the administrator to us, which he did on the
following day.
It was Vitrich, who has since died, with his friend Robespierre. He
said to me, 'We have read your petition. You are very good to wait upon
these old people; but I have nothing to do with that. The order is from
the Committee of General Security, and you must go. You have only to
make a similar petition to them, and surely you will receive their
permission to return.' I begged him with tears, for I was desperate,
for permission to remain till the next day; and he granted it.
I cannot express the horrors of our situation after this cruel
sentence. Dear, venerable old couple, how much they suffered! This
separation seemed only to presage one more terrible still. We wept all
night long. I was almost determined to remain, no matter what happened
to me. For three whole days my daughter never left the door in her
anxiety to hear from the turnkeys what I had concluded to do. She was
terribly frightened about me. A prisoner, whom I did not know,
influenced me to a decision; he stopped me and said, 'Citizeness, I
have learned that you are hesitating about leaving here; I think I
ought to tell you that you are doing wrong. This evening you will be
entered in the jail-book, and perhaps sent to-morrow to another prison;
the greater attachment you manifest for Madame de Mouchy the more you
will be suspected. Believe me, you had better submit. A more favourable
moment will surely come, and you can then rejoin her; above all conceal
your tears, for you are watched.' I thanked him, and informed Monsieur
and Madame de Mouchy of his advice. They then urged me to go. We
consulted together as to what I was to do in order to be allowed to
return. Hoping to certainly do so, I left all my belongings. Messieurs
d'Hénin and de Boisgelin assured me that the separation would not be
long, and that as soon as I should see the committee I could ask that
Madame de Duras might be sent to join her parents; and they would
surely grant my request.
When the fatal moment arrived I felt that it would be utterly
impossible for me to say to Monsieur and Madame de Mouchy, 'I am going
to leave you now;' so I said that I was going to see some of the
prisoners to ask for messages from them. They all sympathized with my
sorrow. Madame la Vicomtesse de Noailles, the younger, threw her arms
around me, and burst into tears. I tore myself from her, and hid behind
a door, to try and recover myself. As I passed along the galleries all
the prisoners congratulated me; for my part I wished they were all in
my place. When I reached the door I thought I should faint; I wanted to
go in to see the keeper, but the turnkey who had the key prevented me.
'Take care!' said he to me, 'there is a clerk in his office who is
vexed with you; go on.' I cannot express all the different feelings
which assailed me on getting into the street; my despair at leaving
Monsieur and Madame de Mouchy, my reunion with my daughter, the open
air which I had not breathed for seven months,--all bewildered me. One
thing is certain, I could not tell what streets I passed through on my
way to the Hôtel Mouchy. Instead of seeming delighted to see my
daughter, I replied to all she said only with tears.
The first thing I did was to beg Monsieur Noël to send my petition to
the committee as soon as possible, which he did. He received no reply.
It was impossible to gain an interview. I did not know to whom to
apply. Madame de Poix, was at the Hôtel Mouchy, under guard. She had
been imprisoned only twenty-four hours on account of her weakness. She
asked me many questions concerning her distinguished parents, wept much
with me, and still hoped that I might be able to return to them. I had
an opportunity to see the deputies from my district, who had just saved
my brother from the guillotine. I thought they would be willing to
render me a service also. I implored them in vain, however, and
received from them only mockery of my attachment, and the most positive
refusal. At last, repulsed in every direction, nothing was left but to
have myself arrested. This was my plan; I thought of it unceasingly.
The only thing that prevented me was the almost complete certainty of
being sent to some other prison than the Luxembourg. The tidings I
received from day to day were more and more distressing. Monsieur de
Mouchy wrote me: 'Come back to us; Madame de Mouchy, has been so
grieved at your absence that her abscess has dried up,--a thing which
never happened before.' Another time he said, 'We cannot get accustomed
to your absence, nor to doing without you. The two or three persons who
wait upon us, no matter how willing they may be, cannot accomplish in
the whole day what our dear Latour used to do in two hours, and without
difficulty.'
All this went to my heart. I wrote to them every day, and gave them
more hope of my returning to them than I entertained myself. I went
frequently to carry them provisions, as well as to learn how they were
from the turnkeys, who were on good terms with me. I also went into the
garden, where I had the sad consolation of seeing them at the window.
The prisoners knew me so well that as soon as they saw me they would
hasten to tell my friends. Their sad and downcast faces broke my heart.
I dared not make the least sign to them as I was constantly watched.
The last day that I went there with my daughter a man followed us
persistently, and drove us away. My daughter was sure then that we were
going to be arrested. It was the last time that I ever saw Madame de
Mouchy. Two days after, Monsieur de Mouchy, sent me word that 'she had
had a severe attack of indigestion, accompanied by violent vomiting,
all through the night; that they needed me more than ever.' He told me
to send him a bottle of mineral water for her to take as a purgative.
The day she took it, Monsieur le Maréchal wrote me at four o'clock in
the afternoon that the purgative had not agreed with her at all, that
Madame la Maréchale could not retain any nourishment, and requested me
to send her an injection immediately. I was extremely anxious. It was
too late for me to be able to speak to any one, as all the doors were
closed at five o'clock. I determined to go to see the turnkey early the
next morning, and find out whether I might be allowed to wait upon her;
but it was then too late. Everything was useless; the end of all their
troubles was approaching.
Just as I was getting into my bed there was a loud knocking at my
door. I trembled as I opened it. I was surprised to see Monsieur
Noël, who looked frightened, and said, 'A messenger was sent to the
Luxembourg this evening to inquire whether Monsieur and Madame de
Mouchy were there, and I cannot imagine what it means.' I cried, 'It
is well known that they are in that house, and such inquiries are
superfluous,--unless,' I added, seeing that his agitation was
increasing, 'Madame la Maréchale, being ill, has asked for me again,
and some prison-director has been to inquire into her condition.' 'I
hope it may be so, I will learn to-morrow morning early what it is
all about, and will come and tell you.' We spent the night in the
greatest excitement, and I rose very early. I went to Monsieur Noël's
house at seven o'clock, but he had already gone out. He came to my
house crying, or rather screaming, 'It is true,' said he; 'all is
over! They are at the Conciergerie.' Nothing else that I have ever
suffered in my life can be compared to what I felt at that moment.
However, I did not altogether lose my self-control; enough was left
me to see that poor Monsieur Noël was entirely beside himself. He
beat his head so violently against the wall that I really feared he
would crush it. After the first moments of his despair had passed, he
said, 'I will go out again; I will go to the Conciergerie; I must see
them!' 'And I will go too,' I cried. 'No, no,' he answered. 'Is
Madame de Duras there?' 'I have not been able to learn.'
He returned about nine o'clock in the morning. 'Well,' said I, 'have
you heard anything? Is there no hope?' 'No, no,' was all his answer.
'And Madame de Duras?' 'She is not there.' He asked me to go and tell
the sad news to Madame de Poix. I should have been glad to be spared
this, for I scarcely had the strength to do it; but he went out again,
and I was obliged to go also. She was in absolute despair. Monsieur
Noël advised me to go away from the house, lest I should be sent for as
a witness. I would not do so. I did not know where to go; I preferred,
I said, to die with them rather than after them. At last I was
persuaded to go to the house of one of my friends.
Before going, however, I charged them to take some dinner to the
Conciergerie. It was possible that these precious victims might remain
there several days. They sent it back with their thanks, but untouched.
At five o'clock in the evening I left my friend's house, being no
longer able to resist the desire to hear what was going on; I met my
daughter coming to see me. Her agitated countenance confirmed my fears.
I met Monsieur Noël; he said not a word to me as he passed me, nor I to
him. We did not even dare to look at each other. I went the next day
again to see Madame de Poix, whose whole appearance was utterly
changed. She had lost not only her distinguished parents but Madame de
Biron, her intimate friend from childhood. She asked me kindly what I
was going to do. 'Nothing,' I answered, 'but await my fate here.' I
thought that, not having been able to share that of Monsieur and Madame
de Mouchy, I might be allowed to follow that of Madame de Duras,
believing that none of us would escape death. Madame de Noailles wrote
me three or four days after our loss a note which I am inconsolable at
having burned, but I was compelled to do so. It contained such a
touching description of how Monsieur and Madame de Mouchy remembered me
in their last moments, and expressions of Madame de Mouchy's sympathy
in my sorrow in spite of all her own suffering, that it caused me, for
the first time, to give way to tears. Until then I had been like a
stone.
Within ten days after the death of my honoured master and mistress, I
was called upon to mourn for all those of their acquaintance at the
Luxembourg who had shown me much kindness, among them Mesdames
d'Hautefort, Madame de Noailles, and others. Twenty days later we sent
some linen to Madame de Duras, which was not received; this frightened
us on her account, for we feared she was no longer there. And finally I
became terrified on my own account. I had the greatest possible horror
of death. I feared I never should have sufficient resignation to endure
the last twenty-four hours; but I hoped that my courage would not fail
me in my last moments if I could be with those from whom I could
receive consolation. The preparations for execution made me cold with
fright. I felt that the courage which would have enabled me to bear
anything in company with Monsieur and Madame de Mouchy, had abandoned
me. On the other hand it was strange that I should have such a terror
of death, being otherwise perfectly indifferent concerning my fate. My
relatives and friends pitied me, not only on account of the loss I had
just sustained, but on account of my financial position, knowing that I
had no means at all. I answered that this did not concern me in the
least. My mind continually reverted to what Monsieur de Mouchy had said
to me one day: he thanked me for a small service I had rendered him,
and added, 'God will reward you, my dear child, for all the trouble you
have taken for me. I am sure you will never want for anything.'
I was obliged, in spite of all my indifference to fate, to ask to have
back again the furniture of my room, for which I had to pay four
hundred francs, with a guarantee from Monsieur Noël. We left that house
after having drunk the cup of sorrow to the dregs, having seen it all
stripped of furniture and thrown into utter disorder. The commissioners
received from our hands everything belonging to Monsieur de Mouchy and
Madame la Maréchale, treating the things in the most insulting and
indecent manner.
Robespierre was beheaded. Madame de Duras was liberated the 16th of
October, 1794. But, oh, how changed she was! It was dreadful to see
her. She seemed, as she said herself, like one risen from the dead. In
spite of her trials it was evident that her courage had not failed. Her
first thought, and also that of Madame de Poix, on being once more in
the enjoyment of liberty, was to see that I had means of support, and
to find out all ways of rendering me assistance.
-----
Footnote 12:
The _féodiste_ [steward] was named Carbonnier. He as well as his wife
gave proof of the sincerest attachment and fidelity to Monsieur and
Madame de Mouchy. He was imprisoned for a whole year in the Anglaises
and the Grande Force.
EVENTS OF THE 21st OF JULY, 1794.