Book: The Secret Memoirs of Louis XV./XVI, Complete

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The unfortunate Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette ceased to be Sovereigns
from the period they were ignominiously dragged to their jail at the
Tuileries. From this moment they were abandoned to the vengeance of
miscreants, who were disgracing the nation with unprovoked and useless
murders. But from this moment also the zeal of the Princesses Elizabeth
and de Lamballe became redoubled. Out of one hundred individuals and
more, male and female, who had been exclusively occupied about the person
of Marie Antoinette, few, excepting this illustrious pair, and the
inestimable Clery, remained devoted to the last. The saint-like virtues
of these Princesses, malice itself has not been able to tarnish. Their
love and unalterable friendship became the shield of their unfortunate
Sovereigns, and their much injured relatives, till the dart struck their
own faithful bosoms. Princes of the earth! here is a lesson of
greatness from the great.

Scarcely had the Princesse de Lamballe been reinstated in the Pavilion of
Flora at the Tuileries, when, by the special royal command, and in Her
Majesty's presence, she wrote to most of the nobility, entreating their
return to France. She urged them, by every argument, that there was no
other means of saving them and their country from the horrors impending
over them and France, should they persevere in their pernicious absence.
In some of these letters, which I copied, there was written on the
margin, in the Queen's hand, "I am at her elbow, and repeat the necessity
of your returning, if you love your King, your religion, your Government,
and your country. Marie Antoinette. Return! Return! Return!"

Among these letters, I remember a large envelope directed to the Duchesse
de Brisac, then residing alternately at the baths of Albano and the
mineral waters at Valdagno, near Vicenza, in the Venetian States. Her
Grace was charged to deliver letters addressed to Her Majesty's royal
brothers, the Comte de Provence, and the Comte d'Artois, who were then
residing, I think, at Stra, on the Brenta, in company with Madame de
Polcatre, Diane de Polignac, and others.

A few days after, I took another envelope, addressed to the Count Dufour,
who was at Turin. It contained letters for M. and Madame de Polignac, M.
and Madame de Guiche Grammont, the King's aunts at Rome, and the two
Princesses of Piedmont, wives of His Majesty's brothers.

If, therefore, a judgment can be formed from the impressions of the Royal
Family, who certainly must have had ample information with respect to the
spirit which predominated at Paris at that period, could the nobility
have been prevailed on to have obeyed the mandates of the Queen and
prayers and invocations of the Princess, there can be no doubt that much
bloodshed would have been spared, and the page of history never have been
sullied by the atrocious names which now stand there as beacons of human
infamy.

The storms were now so fearfully increasing that the King and Queen, the
Duc de Penthievre, the Count Fersen, the Princesse Elizabeth, the
Duchesse d'Orleans, and all the friends of the Princesse de Lamballe,
once more united in anxious wishes for her to quit France. Even the Pope
himself endeavoured to prevail upon Her Highness to join the royal aunts
at Rome. To all these applications she replied, "I have nothing to
reproach myself with. If my inviolable duty and unalterable attachment
to my Sovereigns, who are my relations and my friends; if love for my
dear father and for my adopted country are crimes, in the face of God and
the world I confess my guilt, and shall die happy if in such a cause!"

The Duc de Penthievre, who loved her as well as his own child, the
Duchesse d'Orleans, was too good a man, and too conscientious a Prince,
not to applaud the disinterested firmness of his beloved daughter-in-law;
yet, foreseeing and dreading the fatal consequence which must result from
so much virtue at a time when vice alone predominated, unknown to the
Princesse de Lamballe, he interested the Court of France to write to the
Court of Sardinia to entreat that the King, as head of her family, would
use his good offices in persuading the Princess to leave the scenes of
commotion, in which she was so much exposed, and return to her native
country. The King of Sardinia, her family, and her particular friend,
the Princess of Piedmont, supplicated ineffectually. The answer of Her
Highness to the King, at Turin, was as follows:

"SIRE, AND MOST AUGUST COUSIN,--

"I do not recollect that any of our illustrious ancestors of the house of
Savoy, before or since the great hero Charles Emmanuel, of immortal
memory, ever dishonoured or tarnished their illustrious names with
cowardice. In leaving the Court of France at this awful crisis, I should
be the first. Can Your Majesty pardon my presumption in differing from
your royal counsel? The King, Queen, and every member of the Royal
Family of France, both from the ties of blood and policy of States,
demand our united efforts in their defence. I cannot swerve from my
determination of never quitting them, especially at a moment when they
are abandoned by every one of their former attendants, except myself. In
happier days Your Majesty may command my obedience; but, in the present
instance, and given up as is the Court of France to their most atrocious
persecutors, I must humbly insist on being guided by my own decision.
During the most brilliant period of the reign of Marie Antoinette, I was
distinguished by the royal favour and bounty. To abandon her in
adversity, Sire, would stain my character, and that of my illustrious
family, for ages to come, with infamy and cowardice, much more to be
dreaded than the most cruel death."

Similar answers were returned to all those of her numerous friends and
relatives, who were so eager to shelter her from the dangers threatening
Her Highness and the Royal Family.

Her Highness was persuaded, however, to return once more to England,
under the pretext of completing the mission she had so successfully
began; but it is very clear that neither the King or Queen had any
serious idea of her succeeding, and that their only object was to get her
away from the theatre of disaster. Circumstances had so completely
changed for the worst, that, though Her Highness was received with great
kindness, her mission was no longer listened to. The policy of England
shrunk from encouraging twenty thousand French troops to be sent in a
body to the West Indies, and France was left to its fate. A conversation
with Mr. Burke, in which the disinclination of England to interfere was
distinctly owned, created that deep-rooted grief and apprehension in the
mind of the Queen from which Her Majesty never recovered. The Princesse
de Lamballe was the only one in her confidence. It is well known that
the King of England greatly respected the personal virtues of Their
French Majesties; but upon the point of business, both King and Ministers
were now become ambiguous and evasive. Her Highness, therefore, resolved
to return. It had already been whispered that she had left France, only
to save herself, like the rest; and she would no longer remain under so
slanderous an imputation. She felt, too, the necessity of her friendship
to her royal mistress. Though the Queen of England, by whom Her Highness
was very much esteemed, and many other persons of the first consequence
in the British nation, foreseeing the inevitable fate of the Royal
Family, and of all their faithful adherents, anxiously entreated her not
to quit England, yet she became insensible to every consideration as to
her own situation and only felt the isolated one of her august Sovereign,
her friend, and benefactress.




SECTION XIV.

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.'

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