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THE 
 
 STOEM AND ITS PORTENTS. 
 
 Scenes 
 
 EKOM 
 
 THE REIGN OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tlie Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924024288650 
 
THE STORM AND ITS PORTENTS 
 
 ,i)t?n«s 
 
 THE REIGN OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 DR. T. L. PHIPSON. 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 ' BIOaBAPHIOAL SKETCHES OF CELEBBATED VIOLINIBTS," &C. 
 
 LONDON: 
 RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON, 
 
 f uHts^OT ill ©rbinrttg to f « It^csig t\t ^ratn. 
 1878. 
 
/\ ^7776/ 
 
 (^ 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 INTRODUCTION . . 
 
 I. THE CETJSH AFTER THE MARRIAGE 
 
 II A STORY OP THE PERIOD . 
 
 III. THE ROBBERY AT LITCIENIirES 
 
 IV. A PRACTICAL EXPERIMENT 
 V. THE ANTIQUARIANS AT FAULT 
 
 VI. A DRIVE IN THE COUNTRY ON ASH WEDNESDAY, 
 
 1780 
 
 VII. PREJUDICE PUNISHED 
 
 VIII. THE PASTRY-COOK POET 
 
 IX. CAGLIOSTRO AND THE COUNTESS DU BARRI 
 
 X. THE DIAMOUfD NECKLACE 
 
 XL A MUSICAL SCENE ON THE BOULEVARDS 
 
 XII. MARIE ANTOINETTE AS AN ACTRESS 
 
 XIII. MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON AND HER LOVERS 
 
 XIV. THEATRICAL SCENES 
 XV. NECKER 
 
 XVI. A PRIEST OF THE PERIOD . 
 
 XVII. THE WOMAN WITHOUT A NAME 
 
 XVIII. CARON DE BEAUMAECHAIS 
 
 XIX. THE BARREL OP GOLD 
 
 XX. " MADAME LA RESSOURCE " 
 
 Page 
 1 
 
 14 
 19 
 
 24 
 
 32 
 
 35 
 
 39 
 
 47 
 
 56 
 
 66 
 
 75 
 
 82 
 
 99 
 
 104 
 
 119 
 
 128 
 
 140 
 
 1.54 
 
 162 
 
VI 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 XXI. THE ASSIGN ATS ... 175 
 
 XXII. ASSASSINATION OP GTJSTAVUS III. . . 186 
 
 XXTII. THE BKIGANDS OF OEGEBES . 198 
 
 XXIV. lOtriS THE SIXTEENTH .... 207 
 
 XXV. A BANKER IN THE EETOLUTION . . 226 
 
 XXVI. DEATH OP THE PEINCESS DE LAMBALLE . 241 
 
 XXVII. LIEITTENANT GOSNAT . . 262 
 
 XXVIII. THE MEMOIES OP MADAME EOLAND . . 271 
 
 XXIX. THE MAN WHO NBVEE LOST HIS TEMPER . 286 
 
 XXX. THE ITALIAN OPEEA .... 295 
 
 XXXI. THE LAST DATS OP CONDOECET . . 304 
 
 XXXII. BIBLIOQBAPHT ..... 322 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 ''PHE present volume, the result of a long 
 -*- residence in France, is a collection of 
 scenes and sketches gathered from many- 
 sources, and condensed into as small a space 
 as possible. At the end of the work is 
 given a list of memoirs and publications from 
 which still further interesting details may be 
 gleaned, "besides those that have been made 
 use of here. In writing the following pages, it 
 was sought to go a little out of the beaten track 
 and to avoid repeating well known anecdotes of 
 La Fayette, Mirabeau, the Abb^ Maury, &c., 
 which are to be found in all works treating of 
 the period of the French Revolution. I trust 
 that many of the sketches in this volume will be 
 new to English readers. 
 
 T. L. Phipson. 
 
 London, 1878. 
 
THE 
 
 STOEM AND ITS PORTENTS. 
 
 INTKODUCTION. 
 
 ERRATUM. 
 
 Page 89 : for ' Cardinal ' de Richelieu, 
 read Marechal de Richelieu. 
 
 by eminent persons, which, have appeared relating 
 to this period, betray so much personal bias 
 that, in perusing them, it is exceedingly difl&cult 
 to sift truth from exaggeration and absolute 
 falsehood. 
 
THE 
 
 STOEM AND ITS PORTENTS. 
 
 INTEODUCTION. 
 
 rpHB more we study the period of tlie great 
 -L French Eevolution, the more interesting 
 it becomes. 
 
 Most works written with a view of giving a 
 concise historical account of the events then 
 enacted, necessarily pass over many important 
 details, many vivid pictures of life and society 
 in France. The numerous series of Memoires, 
 by eminent persons, which have appeared relating 
 to this period, betray so much personal bias 
 that, in perusing them, it is exceedingly difficult 
 to sift truth from exaggeration and absolute 
 falsehood. 
 
SCENES AND CHAEACTERS IN 
 
 Again, these Me'moires are so fuU of heart- 
 rending details, either connected with the writers 
 themselves, or relating to persons intimately 
 known to the authors, that the real state of French 
 society is more or less lost sight of amidst the 
 horrors they depict, and they appeal to our 
 sympathy rather than to our judgment. 
 
 In the present work it is my endeavour to 
 avoid these two extremes. I have collected a 
 series of authentic episodes, calculated, I hope, 
 to interest the general reader whilst they may 
 assist the student of history. Many have been 
 taken from sources not easily accessible to Enghsh 
 readers ; and, whilst striving to avoid accounts 
 teeming with horrors, I have assured myself of 
 the perfect authenticity of every scene and 
 anecdote related in these pages. 
 
 It may be doubtfiil whether the great French 
 Eevolution that began so well and ended so 
 tragically, has been of any greater benefit to 
 mankind than to show in the most vivid colours 
 to what height the passions of the human race 
 may be carried imdfer some circumstances. But 
 it is evident that the fearful crisis was brought 
 about by the state of society at, and for some 
 time previous to this particular period of modern 
 history, and the following scenes and sketches 
 
THE BEIGN OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 comprised between the years 1770 and 1794, 
 display a number of dramatic incidents and 
 pbases of domestic life tbat may not be entirely 
 devoid of iaterest eitter to tlie historian, the 
 philosoplier, or the lover of romance. 
 
 In writing the following pages I have adhered 
 to the chronological ordfer of the events here 
 related. None of the episodes are directly 
 connected with each other more than that they 
 form part of one vast whole, the minuter details 
 of which they help to fill up. There is nothing 
 but profit to be got from such study, and the 
 more minutely the period of Louis XVI. is 
 sifted by posterity the more certainly will 
 future generations avoid the reproduction 
 of such disastrous misfortunes as characterized 
 that period. Finally, I may be allowed to state 
 that the whole of these sketches are now published 
 for the first time. 
 
 B 2 
 
I. 
 
 THE CRUSH AFTER THE MARRIAGE. 
 
 HIS Eoyal Higlmess the Dauphin, afterwards 
 Louis XYI, married Marie Antoinette 
 of Austria on the 16th of May, 1770. On 
 the 31st of May the city of Paris determined 
 to celebrate this marriage by a splendid fete, 
 during which the Rue Royale became the scene 
 of a most alarming and tragical incident, entirely 
 ascribed to the bad management of the town 
 councillors, and other " authorities " upon whom 
 the various arrangements depended. 
 
 "We have few examples in history of such utter 
 carelessness and mismanagement. People at first 
 laughed at the idea of the said fete, but their 
 laughter was soon to be turned into cries of 
 grief. Between the trees of the Rue Royale and 
 the Boulevard, stalls had been erected for a kind 
 
ACCIDENT AT THE MAEEIAGE. 
 
 of fancy fair, similar to what we see now-a-days 
 at Paris on tlie 1st of January. The fair, ac- 
 cording to Duclos' account was mournful and 
 insipid to the last degree. The Boulevard was 
 lighted by means of small lanterns hung upon 
 the trees at short intervals, and they did little 
 more than shed a. very dull kind of illumination. 
 It was also arranged that a display of fireworks 
 should take place in the newly made Place Louis 
 XV, after which all the colonnades of the Place, 
 and, in fact, all the houses in Paris were to be 
 iHumiaated. For this purpose, a wooden scaf- 
 folding, of a very poor description, was erected, 
 not facing the river as it should have been, but 
 facing the Rue Royale ; so that only those spec- 
 tators placed in this comparatively narrow 
 street could see the display ; the vast crowd out- 
 side being only able to witness the back of it. 
 
 Now at this period the Rue Royale was a new 
 street ; it was not finished, was only partly 
 paved, and on each side were large ditches, dug 
 either for placing water pipes, or, with the object 
 of causing carriages to drive only in the middle 
 of the street, where the pavement was newly 
 laid. 
 
 In spite of the exceedingly fine weather, the 
 fireworks were a failure; the scaffolding caught 
 
ACCIDENT AT THE MAEBIAGE. 
 
 fire, and it was necessary to send for the engines 
 to extinguish it. These engines could only reach 
 the spot by the Rue Royale, which caused no little 
 embarassment, crowded as it was by spectators. 
 After this, the people in the Boulevard wished to 
 get into the Rue Royale to see the illuminations ; 
 whilst those in the Rue Royale endeavoured to 
 get on to the Boulevard for the same purpose. 
 The result was a fearful amount of crushing and 
 pushing, such as had never before been wit- 
 nessed in Paris, or perhaps, anywhere else. At 
 this critical moment, according to Grrimm, several 
 carriages made their way into the street, and 
 some of them were drawn by six or eight horses. 
 The populace, in order to avoid them, moved 
 suddenly from the centre of the street towards 
 the sides, thus pushing those at the sides ioto 
 the ditches already referred to. The scene 
 which now ensued baffles all description. The 
 noise and confusion, the shrieks of the women 
 and shouts of the men, mixed with the groans 
 and imprecations of the wounded and dying, 
 were frightful. 
 
 Many of the aristocracy risked their lives by 
 quitting their carriages and escaping on foot. 
 Some of the soldiers present acted with great pre- 
 sence of mind and gallantry, saving the lives of 
 
CONDUCT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 many people ; but several of these men themselves 
 were also crushed to death. The whole night was 
 occupied in collecting and extricating the dead 
 and the wounded. Duclos says that one hundred 
 and thirty-three of the corpses were interred in 
 the cemetery of the Madeleine, where, twenty- 
 three years later, the remains of Louis XVI. 
 himself were deposited. As for the wounded 
 taken to the hospitals and to their own homes, 
 their numbers were never exactly ascertained; 
 there must have been many thousands, for 
 Grimm teUs us that " over a thousand died from 
 the effects of this fearful crush." 
 
 The day after the catastrophe (1st of June 
 1770) the Dauphin received his usual monthly 
 allowance of 6,000 francs. "Without losing a 
 moment, he wrote to the lieutenant of poHce, M. 
 de Sartignes : 
 
 " I have heard of the misfortune that occurred 
 last night. I am inconsolable. They have just 
 brought me the sum which the king allows me 
 every month ; it is all I can dispose of, I send it 
 to you, devote it to the unfortunate. You know 
 the esteem in which I hold you. 
 
 (Signed) " Louis Augusts." 
 
II. 
 
 A STOEY OF THE PBEIOD. 
 
 A T tlie commencement of the reign of Louis 
 -^ XVI. there was an extraordinary story 
 wHcli went tlie round of tlie Paris salons, and 
 cannot, we think, fail to interest many persons in 
 these days of Spiritualism and mysteries. It had 
 nothing to do, perhaps, with the outbreak of the 
 revolution, but, when we know how fashionable 
 this story became, how often it was repeated, and 
 how carefully it has been preserved by the Baron 
 de Bezenval, it gives some idea of the things that 
 were listened to and credited in those days. 
 
 A young gentleman, M. de Saint Andre, after- 
 wards a lieutenant-general in the Army, had taken 
 his place in the diligence going from Strasburg 
 to Paris, and on the journey formed the acquain- 
 
A STORY OF THE PERIOD. 9 
 
 tance of a young man about Ms own age, "with 
 whom he soon became very intimate. Monsieur 
 de Saint Andr^ was a tall, fine looking man, o£ 
 rather stern aspect; he never laughed, though 
 fond of gaiety and accused of having perpetrated 
 many acts of extravagance. 
 
 It was not long before he discovered that this 
 young companion, whose name has not come 
 down to us, was engaged to be married ; that 
 the lady of his choice was the only daughter of 
 an old friend of his father, and possessed of con- 
 siderable fortune ; that, in fact, he was on his 
 way to Paris to get married. 
 
 M. de Saint Andre was afterwards informed 
 with much detail, by his loquacious and enthu- 
 siastic ffellow-traveUer, of aU the circumstances 
 of his engagement, of the position of his 
 future father-in-law, and of his own family. 
 On arriving at Paris they both put up at the 
 H6tel d'Angleterre in the Eue de Richelieu. Very 
 shortly after their arrival the young stranger 
 was attacked by a violent inflammation of the 
 bowels, which got worse and worse, and actually 
 carried him off in the space of a very few hours. 
 
 Saint Andrd had done everything that even a 
 relative could have done to save his young friend, 
 but all in vain. He was very much afflicted by 
 
10 SAINT ANDE£. 
 
 his loss, and Ms conscience told Mm that Ms 
 peculiar position at tMs critical moment entailed 
 certaiu duties towards the deceased, which duties 
 he at once set about. Ejiowing that his unfor- 
 tunate young friend was expected that very 
 morning by his future father-in-law, he provided 
 himself with all the papers he found in the 
 pockets and portfolio of the deceased, and pro- 
 ceeded to the house of the said gentleman, with 
 the intention of placing these papers in his 
 hands, and informing him of the dreadful oc- 
 curence. 
 
 So far, so good; and those excellent inten- 
 tions would, no doubt, have been carried out 
 to the letter, had not circumstances been too 
 much for Saiat Andrd on this extraordinary 
 occasion. On arriving at the house of the 
 father-in-law, the servants, who had been 
 informed of the expected visit of the future 
 bridegroom, had no difi&culty in persuading 
 themselves that Saint Andr^ was the man in 
 question. They ran to the host to make known 
 the auspicious event, and before our hero could 
 open his mouth, he found himself tightly em- 
 braced in the arms of the proprietor of the 
 residence. What is more, the latter actually 
 pulled the young man into the room, and pre- 
 
PERSONATES HIS PEIEND. 11 
 
 sented him to Ms wife and daughter as tlie future 
 husband of the latter, before a word of ex- 
 planation could escape Saint Andre's lips. 
 
 All this was too much for the facetious 
 character of M. de Saint Andr^; he allowed 
 himself to be carried away by the event of 
 the moment, delivered the letters of intro- 
 duction, replied correctly to aU the questions, 
 being well posted during the journey by his 
 youthful friend. Moreover, in spite of himself, 
 he made violent love to the daughter, who was 
 decidedly a handsome girl. In a little time 
 dinner was announced, and Saint Andr^ was 
 seated next to his intended, whilst perfect joy 
 lit up the features of the father and mother. 
 As for the young lady ; she was very reserved, 
 spoke little, blushed often, and replied very 
 briefly to questions. 
 
 After dinner the conversation took a more 
 animated and serious cast. The details of the 
 marriage, the settlements, &c., were entered into, 
 and in the very middle of this animated con- 
 versation our hero took up his hat and pre- 
 pared to leave the room. 
 
 " Where are you going ?" exclaimed the host. 
 
 "I have some pressing business that obHges 
 me to quit you at once," replied the other. 
 
12 PERSONATES HIS PEIEND. 
 
 "How can tliat be— how can you have any 
 pressing business in a town which you have 
 never seen before, and in which you do not 
 know a soul ?" 
 
 " All that is quite true, but, nevertheless, it 
 is absolutely necessary that I should go." 
 
 " Oh ! I see what you wish. You are going 
 to the bank to get some money. Now, is it likely 
 that I should allow you to be in want of funds ? 
 I have plenty here at your service. Besides, if 
 you wish to present any drafts, or to open an 
 account, one of my clerks shall do it for you." 
 
 "No, it is not precisely that," interrupted 
 Saint Andre, " it is an affair in which my presence 
 is absolutely indispensible." 
 
 And whilst pronouncing these words he had 
 moved decidedly towards the door of the apart- 
 ment. Another moment and he was in the 
 breakfast-room adjoining, whither he was at once 
 followed by the father-in-law. 
 
 "Now that we are alone, and as the ladies 
 cannot overhear our conversation," said Saint 
 Andr^, " I may tell you that this morning, 
 shortly before arriving here, an accident hap- 
 pened to me. I was attacked by a violent fit of 
 inflammation, of which I died in the course of a 
 few hours, I have given my word of honour 
 
MYSTERIOUS TERMINATION. 13 
 
 that I will be interred at six o'clock precisely, and 
 I cannot break my word." 
 
 This discourse, as may be supposed, had an 
 extraordinary effect upon the father-in-law, 
 who thought the idea so extremely extravagant, 
 that he yielded to a fit of uproarious laughter, 
 and was some time before he could explain the 
 cause of it to the ladies. In the meantime Saint 
 Andr^ went out. In the house they, continued 
 to discuss this incomprehensible joke, as they 
 termed it, until six o'clock struck, and then 
 seven, and the young man never returned. 
 
 At half-past seven the father-in-law, becom- 
 ing impatient, sent a servant to the Hotel 
 d'Angleterre to hear what had become of the 
 young gentleman just arrived from Strasburg. 
 As the servant mentioned the name of the right 
 person, the reply that he took back to his master 
 plunged the family in the deepest of mysteries. 
 The reply was, that the young man had arrived 
 at the H6tel at nine o'clock in the morning, that 
 he died at eleven, and was buried at six o'clock 
 in the evening. 
 
TIL 
 
 THE EOBBEET AT LUCIENNES. 
 
 /\N the morning of the 20tli of April, 1779, the 
 ^ Countess du Barri was sitting alone in her 
 apartments, when she was informed that three 
 persons wished to see her. They brought an in- 
 troduction from the Princess Sapicha, a beautiful 
 Polish lady, as elegant in mind and manners as 
 she was in person. It appears from the Memoirs 
 of Madame du Barri herself, that she had not 
 long been acquainted with this charming princess, 
 but as the intimacy had been contracted since the 
 death of her royal consort Louis XV., and the 
 consequent change in Madame du Barri's fortune, 
 it was supposed to be a purely disinterested 
 friendship. 
 
 The three gentlemen were admitted. One, 
 who seemed to be the principal, was of middle 
 
THE BOBBERY AT LUCIENNES. 15 
 
 age, neither remarkable for beauty nor for want 
 of it ; he wore an enormously large patch, on one 
 cheek, and a cross of the order of St. Louis hung 
 on his breast. His companions were rather 
 better looking, but appeared to labour under a 
 constrained manner, leading their hostess to be- 
 lieve that they found themselves in a somewhat 
 new and strange situation. 
 
 The Countess invited them to be seated; but 
 they respectfully declined. The person who wore 
 the cross of St. Louis then apprised her that he 
 was the bearer of a private message of the ut- 
 most importance from the Princess Sapicha, in 
 which her interests were much concerned, and 
 that he would fain speak to her without fear of 
 interruption. 
 
 "But these gentlemen?" inquired the Coun- 
 tess. 
 
 " They are merely two Lithuanians, Madame," 
 replied the Chevalier, " who understand but very 
 little of the Trench language, but as they had an 
 ardent desire to see so beautiful and celebrated a 
 lady as yourself, the princess kindly allowed me 
 to bring them with me." 
 
 This piece of flattery appears to have been too 
 much for the handsome Countess. She made no 
 further objection, but rose from her chair and 
 
16 THE UOBBEET AT LUCIBNNES. 
 
 passed into an adjoining boudoir, followed by tte 
 Chevalier. 
 
 The latter had no sooner entered the little 
 apartment than he carefully closed the door ; 
 ■whether he turned the key in the lock or not, we 
 are not informed. Nevertheless, this act of pre- 
 caution produced in the Countess a feeling of 
 mistrust and uneasiness, which was by no means 
 diminished by what followed. She inquired in a 
 hurried tone of voice what his pressing business 
 might be. 
 
 The stranger advanced towards her with a re- 
 spectful bow, and after eyeing each other for a 
 moment he began : — 
 
 " You are somewhat imprudent, Madame, thus 
 to- trust yourself in the hands of persons whose 
 very names are unknown to you; and this want 
 of caution on your part will meet with its proper 
 reward." 
 
 " What is the meaning of that language ?" ex- 
 claimed the Countess, highly alarmed. 
 
 " Merely a trifle," continued the visitor, draw- 
 ing from his pocket a large pistol, which the 
 coward pointed at her breast ; "all you have to 
 do, Madame, is to deliver up to me at once your 
 money and jewels. My companions will prevent 
 any persons from approaching through your 
 
MADAME DU BAREI. 17 
 
 apartment, and you are beyond the possibility of 
 rescue. For your own sake I conjure you to 
 comply without delay to my demand." 
 
 Overcome with terror, the poor woman uttered 
 an incoherent prayer for mercy, and gave herself 
 up for lost — whilst the ruffian continued : " No 
 delay, Madame, your life or mine depends upon 
 the dispatch of a moment." 
 
 A glance at the wretch's face convinced 
 Madame du Barri that he was quite equal to 
 fulfilling his horrible threat. One thought alone 
 consoled her, that her diamonds were out of his 
 reach in an iron safe outside the boudoir ; but in 
 her secretaire, or writing desk, there was a casket 
 of jewels which she was in the habit of wearing, 
 with some forty thousand francs. These, to- 
 gether with some gold coin, the whole amount- 
 ing to sixty thousand livres (or £2,400) she 
 handed over to the villain, who eagerly grasped 
 his prize, filled his pockets, and those of his 
 wretched associates who, by this time, presented 
 themselves at the door of the boudoir. Then 
 leading the terrified Countess back to the other 
 apartment, they compelled her to sit in a large 
 arm chair, to which they bound her with hand- 
 kerchiefs so tightly as to cause considerable 
 pain. 
 
 
 
18 MADAME DU BABEI. 
 
 " Do not utter a single cry," said tte detest- 
 able ruffian, " for the space of a quarter of an 
 hour ; if you do, you are lost ; there is a person 
 in your household who is engaged with us in this 
 affair, and he will secure his safety and ours at 
 any price, even that of your life." 
 
 The villains then departed. Whether there 
 was any truth in what had just been pronounced 
 could never be discovered. The Countess, more 
 dead than alive, was left in the chair, and did not 
 dare to utter a cry till the prescribed period had 
 elapsed. 
 
 This occurred at Luciennes, some distance 
 from Paris, in a country house occupied by the 
 Countess du Barri at that time. The whole 
 place was soon in an uproar, as the news of what 
 had occurred got mooted about. The police 
 made active search ; but all that was discovered 
 consisted of three coats found in a wood near 
 Luciennes, one of which had the cross of St. Louis 
 attached to it. 
 
lY. 
 
 A PEACTICAL EXPERIMENT. 
 
 A N anecdote wliicli has been preserved by 
 -^■*- Condorcet, and another whicb. belongs also 
 to the period of wMcb we write, give some idea 
 of the gaiety of the upper classes about 1780. It 
 was about the spring of that year that M. de 
 Montesquieu made a bet with one of his noble 
 friends, that if any one went into the public 
 streets and offered to sell real gold pieces at two 
 francs each, no one would buy them. 
 
 After arranging the bet a man was sent on to 
 one of the public squares, with a certain number 
 of gold coins, and was instructed to shout out in 
 a loud voice " Real gold pieces at two francs 
 each! — whowiUbuy?" After a little time had 
 elapsed a crowd began to gather round him, 
 which got larger and larger. The people opened 
 
 2 
 
20 A PEAOTICAL EXPERIMENT. 
 
 their eyes and their ears, they looked at the 
 gold pieces, touched them ; some were audacious 
 enough to c&use them to ring against the stones 
 of the pavement, but they invariably handed 
 them back to the seller. They were not to be 
 deceived by appearances ! The cleverest persons 
 in the crowd openly stated that they saw clearly 
 aU the pieces were false^ Some declared that, 
 nevertheless, they were very well imitated. 
 Others said that the soimd of the ring on the 
 stones was quite sufl&cient to pronounce them 
 bad ; and that instead of being worth two francs, 
 it would be difficult to sell them again at half 
 that sum. , 
 
 At last, after bawling for about an hour, the 
 man had succeeded, with great difficulty, in dis- 
 posing of fowr gold coins of the realm, at the 
 price of two francs (one shilling and eightpence) 
 each; and these were no doubt purchased by 
 some rascals who imagined that, in the dusk of 
 the evening, they might cause them to pass for 
 real pieces ; more especially if they were mixed 
 up with a few good ones ! 
 
 *♦*«*« 
 
 The other anecdote, which may be looked upon 
 as an indication of "gaiety before the tragedy " 
 is told of the young Due d'Aumont, who, it is 
 
THE ABB£ MAURY. 21 
 
 said, owed more to nature than to art. Eising 
 from bed one morning lie was overheard, whilst 
 looking into his mirror, to exclaim : 
 
 " D'Aumont, my friend, God has made you a 
 gentleman, the King has made you a duke, now 
 do something yourself in your turn — shave, and 
 make yourself clean." 
 
 It is exceedingly remarkable that as matters got 
 worse and worse, this natural gaiety of the French 
 people of all classes never forsook them. Many 
 lives were saved by an appropriate joke delivered 
 at the proper moment. When the mob talked of 
 hanging the Abbe Maury at a lamp-post " Mes 
 enfants," said he, " y verrez-vous plus clair quand 
 vous m'aurez mis a lalanterne ?" About the same 
 time when the Archbishop of Toulouse was about 
 to be burnt in efl&gy on the Pont Neuf j and the 
 torches were all ready to light the fire beneath the 
 lay figure, a poor abbe chanced to be espied in the 
 crowd. " Oh ! oh !" cried the mob, " here is the 
 confessor !" Thereupon the priest was pushed 
 forward and commanded to hear the confession 
 of the lay figure. " Confess him. Monsieur 
 I'Abbe," cried the roughs, " we will give him five 
 minutes." Thereupon roars of laughter and all 
 kinds of obscene remarks both from the men and 
 the women. A ladder was brought and the poor 
 
22 SAVED BY A JOKE, 
 
 abb^, in spite of all resistance, was compelled to 
 take his place beside tbe stuffed effigy, witb every 
 probability of feeling the stinging flames himself, 
 if not of being killed outright by the excited mob. 
 He saved himself by a joke. Standing upon the 
 steps of the ladder he saluted the crowd by 
 raising his cocked hat, and said " G-entlemen, I 
 am quite willing to listen to the confession of the 
 culprit, but if I undertake this task he will have 
 so much to say to me that you wiU never be able 
 to burn him to-night !" Thereupon great roars 
 of laughter, during which the abb^ descended and 
 managed to withdraw from the crowd without 
 further molestation. 
 
 Another ludicrous incident is connected with 
 the appearance at the bar of the Assembly of " a 
 deputation of the human races," supposed to re- 
 present the whole world, and demanding per- 
 mission to render homage to the "immortal 
 decrees " of the said Assembly. According to 
 Beaulieu all these people were hired for the 
 
 occasion, and a certain Due de L was charged 
 
 with the payment of them.. Next day, one of 
 them mistaking the name of the duke, called on 
 M. de Biencourt, and being asked what he wanted 
 said, " Sir, it was I that did the Chaldean at 
 the National Assembly, and I want the twelve 
 
ANECDOTE OP LOUIS XVIII. 23 
 
 francs that were promised." He was told to 
 apply to the Due de Liancourt. 
 
 Much later, when the King's aunts had 
 thought proper to fly, and the rest of the Eoyal 
 Family were thinking of doing likewise, the fish- 
 women of Paris came in a mass to Monsieur, the 
 brother of the King, and obliged him to give due 
 assurance that he had no intention of leaving 
 Paris. Having done this, one of the women said : 
 " But if the King should leave us, you would re- 
 main would you not ?" It was an awkward 
 question. Shrugging his shoulders Monsieur re- 
 plied : " For a clever and witty woman that is a 
 most stupid question to ask !" on which all the 
 women burst into laughter, and left the Luxem- 
 bourg quite satisfied. 
 
THE ANTIQTJAEIANS AT FAULT, 
 
 TTTITHIN the last fifty years Easpail and 
 ' ^ otliers haye — not witliout some semblance 
 of truth. — found great fault with, the doings of 
 the Paris Academy of Sciences, and other such 
 learned bodies. In some instances Raspail was 
 decidedly in the right, but few will give credence 
 to much that he has written, since his own 
 scientific observations are frequently open to 
 much criticism, and in many cases his assertions 
 are positively erroneous. Errare humanum est, 
 is true enough ; but those who find fatJt with 
 others should use every endeavour not to err 
 themselves. These considerations have more 
 than once deterred right-minded and clever 
 people from exposing the shortcomings and 
 intrigues of our own learned societies — they 
 
■ ANTIQUAEIANS AT FAULT. 25 
 
 miglit, indeed, just as well grumble at a Kailway 
 Company, as far as the good produced by such 
 manifestations, usually goes. 
 
 Nevertheless it did happen, as we shall see 
 presently, that the most learned Academy of 
 Inscriptions, in Paris, got rather a severe lesson 
 in the never-to-be-forgotten Academic year 
 1779—80. 
 
 At that date some excavations were being 
 made in the extensive lime quarries of Bellevue, 
 not very far from the spot where now stands the 
 old chemical manufactory of Javelle — which was 
 erected in the year that the celebrated Lavoisier 
 made known his discoveries relating to oxygen 
 gas, as the date above the doors still testifies — 
 and still nearer to the much frequented 
 hydropathic establishment on the hill over- 
 looking the river. During the excavations 
 to which we refer, these lime quarries had 
 yielded up a treasure in the shape of a 
 stone bearing distinct traces of several Eoman 
 characters. 
 
 If it was not the philosopher's stone, aU we can 
 say is, that it ought to have been — considering 
 the vast amount of conversation of which it sub- 
 sequently became the object both to philosophers 
 and others. The celebrated lapis Solaris dis- 
 
26 ANTIQUABIANS AT FAULT. 
 
 covered by the old Italian cobbler Casciarolo, 
 wMcli shed out a soft ethereal light in dark 
 places after having been exposed to the solar 
 rays, never produced more excitement among the 
 curious than did the block of limestone, with 
 Roman characters, brought to light in the quarries 
 of BeUevue a few years previous to the outbreak 
 of the Revolution. 
 
 The characters were distinctly separate, and 
 had no apparent connection with each other. 
 They were Roman characters — there was no 
 doubt of that. 
 
 The members of the Academy having assembled 
 to consider the matter, the meeting resulted in 
 an order to the Secretary to request permission 
 of the Grovernment to have this antique stone 
 placed at their disposal. This was granted, and 
 an order signed by the King, the effect of which 
 was that the precious relic of past ages was 
 transported at no little expense and trouble to 
 the Louvre, and duly installed under the eyes of 
 the learned geologists and antiquarians of the. 
 Institute. 
 
 A contemporary informs us that the block of 
 stone was received with all due honour, and that 
 a committee was immediately formed consisting 
 of M. de la Curne, the Abbe Barthelemy, Dupuy 
 
ANTIQUARIANS AT FAULT. 27 
 
 (the Secretary), M. de Br^ginguy, M. Auquetel 
 and M. K^ralio. These gentlemen laboured with 
 the most ■unremitting zeal to discover the mean- 
 ing of the Roman inscriptions, but without suc- 
 cess. It is stated that each member of the 
 Committee found a separate key to the enigma, 
 and expounded its signification after his own 
 fashion. 
 
 As men get older they should become more 
 careful in their conclusions, on arriving at the 
 "years of wisdom " they should have learnt how 
 infinite are the works of Nature, and how feeble 
 our interpretation of them. Yet how many per- 
 sons we find who seem to know everything or, 
 at least, induce their contemporaries to believe 
 so ! How painful it is to see a man grown grey 
 in the cause of science, still struggling to get his 
 particular ideas adopted by the world, to the 
 exclusion of aU others. Let him take his scalpel, 
 his microscope, or his chemical balance and dis- 
 cover new facts. These will remain to the glory 
 of his name, but his own particular views of 
 Nature and her doings will perish like the froth 
 upon the ocean wave. How small does the 
 physiologist appear in our eyes when he is found 
 incapable of explaining why the vegetable cell in 
 one plant invariably remains spherical, and in 
 
28 DIFFICULTIES OF DECIPHERMENT. 
 
 another, as invariably, grows out into a long 
 tube ! This, the simplest and most common of 
 all phenomena is yet unexplained by the most 
 learned. Yet our baby astronomers are pre- 
 tending to analyse the Sun ! 
 
 However the Academicians aU concurred in 
 one thing, namely, that the Koman characters 
 upon the stone were merely initials. At this 
 juncture they decided to consult with M. de 
 Grebelin, the author of a work entitled " Le 
 Monde primitif," and well known to be deeply 
 skilled in ancient languages. But he either 
 could not or would not devote any time to this 
 affair. In the meanwhile the wonderful dis- 
 covery at Bellevue became the one engrossing 
 topic of conversation in Paris. The Roman 
 characters traced upon the stone were copied 
 on to hand-screens and chimney ornaments ; they 
 found their way into ladies' albums, and entire 
 evenings were spent in endeavouring to solve the 
 mystery — ^the "all-defying enigma" as it was 
 termed. 
 
 It was during this fever of excitement and 
 curiosity, wholely traceable to the proceedings of 
 the learned Fellows of the Academy, that the old 
 beadle of the parish of Montmartre not only 
 heard of the matter— who had not heard 
 
THE ENIGMA SOLVED. 29 
 
 of it? — but actually prpfessed to be able to 
 solve the mystery and inquired whether the 
 Academy had offered any prize on the subject. 
 The characters upon the stone stood nearly as 
 follows : 
 
 I 
 
 
 L 
 
 I 
 E 
 
 
 C 
 
 c 
 
 D 
 
 
 EM 
 I 
 
 E 
 
 H 
 
 s 
 
 A 
 
 
 NE 
 
 
 S 
 
 In the course of a short time the old beadle 
 was introduced by a mutual friend to one of the 
 Academicians, who laughed when he heard his 
 story, and introduced him to another member of 
 the learned society, who laughed also. It ended 
 in the beadle receiving an invitation to make a 
 statement before the Committee. This he had 
 no objection to do, and we have it from a well- 
 known author of the period, that the exact 
 words, as they dropped from his lips, were as 
 nearly as possible to the following effect : — 
 " Gentlemen, I am but a poor beadle of the 
 
30 THE ENIGMA SOLVED. 
 
 parish of Montmartre, and perhaps an ignorant 
 fellow besides, but I am an old man well ac- 
 quainted with the history of the Bellevue Quar- 
 ries, in which I formerly worked, and I have to 
 state that near the spot where this stone was 
 found, and in the same part of' the quarry, it was 
 once the custom to sell out the lime to persons 
 who brought asses laden with baskets to carry it 
 away. Now, as those who conducted these ani- 
 mals did not always know the precise road they 
 should take to reach the lime pits, a stonecutter 
 engraved the one you have before you in 
 his own rude manner and according to his 
 own fancy, as a sort of guide to the donkey- 
 drivers, who soon became well acquainted 
 with the marks. You will see, in fact, that 
 on beginning by the first letter, and reading 
 straight on, it makes : Id le chemin des 
 dnes." 
 
 As the old man made known this discovery, the 
 members of the committee stood dumbfoxmded, 
 looking at each other with undisguised amaze- 
 ment. 
 
 A talented lady writing from Paris on the sub- 
 ject says : " Only conceive, my dear friend, the 
 confusion of the learned Academicians, and the 
 unextinguishable mirth of the public when in- 
 
A WISE BEADLE. 31 
 
 formed of tlie discovery brought about by this 
 modern Daniel. It kept us in constant laughter 
 for nearly a fortnight, and for almost double that 
 period the wise heads which had been so long 
 puzzled with this block were compelled to hide 
 themselves." 
 
VI. 
 
 A DEIVE IN THE OOTJNTET ON ASH WBDNESDAYj 1780, 
 
 AT no time of tte year are men's spirits more 
 lively than on tlie advent of Spring. Al- 
 most every poet of distinction lias had something 
 to say about this regenerating season of the year. 
 Memoirs of the time tell us that on Ash 
 Wednesday, 1780, the Prince de Lambesc, 
 with his brother, and the Princess de Yau- 
 demont were returning from the country in 
 a carriage drawn by six horses, when they 
 overtook a procession consisting of a number of 
 priests carrying extreme unction to a dying man. 
 The postilion, from natural impulse, or from 
 religious veneration, pulled up his horses, but the 
 surly coachman was apparently of a different 
 mind, and commenced flogging his animals vio- 
 lently, compelling the others to move forward in 
 so rapid a manner that one of the priests in the 
 
FRANCE IN 1780. 33 
 
 procession was thrown down and trampled under 
 the horse's feet " to the great amusement of the 
 young noblemen in the carriage." 
 
 A compact crowd soon collected, however, and 
 the enraged multitude was by no means disposed 
 to take the same view of things. Several per- 
 sons pursued the carriage, throwing stones at the 
 drivers and making use of very violent language. 
 
 It is probable that the riders would scarcely 
 have escaped with their lives, had not both 
 postilion and coachman urged the horses to 
 their utmost speed. 
 
 The wounded priest was raised from the 
 ground and carried to his convent, not very far 
 distant, where he was placed under the care of a 
 surgeon, who pronounced his recovery extremely 
 doubtful. The members of the brotherhood of 
 St. Paul, to which he belonged, lost no time in 
 making a report of the occurrence to the Arch- 
 bishop, insisting upon the enormous sacrilege 
 that had been committed, and mentioning the 
 names of the noble party in the carriage. The 
 Archbishop, it appears, contented himself by 
 merely writing to the Countess de Brienne who, 
 fearing the consequences of so flagrant an offence, 
 at once gave orders for the dismissal of the 
 coachman, and then hastened to the convent, 
 
 D 
 
34 FRANCE IN 1780. 
 
 where she succeeded in hushing the matter up, 
 by settling an annuity of some two hundred 
 francs (about £8) upon the wounded priest, 
 together with the assurance of her protection. 
 " Thus ended an affair," says a contemporary 
 writer, "which under the reign of Louis XV. 
 would have been visited with the utmost rigour 
 of the law, aided by the royal displeasure, which 
 would in aU probability have banished from the 
 kingdom the Prince de Lambesc and his sacri- 
 ligious companion. But, alas ! his excellent and 
 pious grandson was already beginning to feel 
 himself a king in nothing but the name." Of 
 course, we make due allowance for the writer's 
 personal bias in all this. Matters would have 
 happened just the same in the reign of Louis XV. 
 as in that of Louis XVI. 
 
VII. 
 
 PEEJXJDICE PUNISHED. 
 
 TT will be our fault if the little sketches con- 
 -*- tained in these pages do not teach more 
 than one important lesson to some of our con- 
 temporaries. All historians, worthy of the name, 
 have perceived that one century has instructed 
 the following, not only in science and art, but in 
 politics and philosophy. And surely no more active 
 period of instruction for the nineteenth century 
 could have existed, than that of the eighteenth. 
 
 Most persons will admit with us, that of 
 aU the degradations of Uterature few things 
 surpass unjust criticism. Even ignorant criticism 
 cannot be pardoned, for ' those who are called 
 upon to judge the works of others should be, 
 at the very least, men of education and 
 devoid of prejudice. But what are we to 
 say to ignorant and impudent censure com- 
 bined? or, to that species of vicious writing in 
 
 D 2 
 
36 LA DUCHBSSE DE POLIGNAC. 
 
 whicli an author is praised or condemned accord- 
 ing as his work falls into the hands of a friend 
 or an enemy? 
 
 By all means, as Cervantes says, " let us adhere 
 to the straight line." 
 
 These remarks were suggested to us on read- 
 ing a little anecdote which is told of the Duchess 
 de Polignac. It can be related in a very few words, 
 and the moral it conveys wiU never be forgotten. 
 
 In the year 1780, Madame la Duchesse de 
 Polignac was in a delicate state of health, and in 
 order to be as near the Queen as possible, she 
 begged the weU-known Madame de Boufflers to 
 allow her to rent her house at AuteuU. for the 
 summer. This house was very agreeably situ- 
 ated, quite out of the noise and dust of Paris, 
 and, moreover, had a beautiful little garden laid 
 out in the English fashion, which was universally 
 admired. It is on record that many persons, 
 and some strangers, visited Madame de Boufllers 
 expressly to see her charming garden; it was 
 a matter of curiosity both to friends and 
 acquaintances, at all times of the year. 
 
 It may well be supposed that this lady at- 
 tached no small value to the charming little 
 property, and that nothing could induce her to 
 give up the possession of it, even for the 
 
MADAME DE BOUEFLBES. 37 
 
 short space of one summer. At the same 
 time, being a person of obliging disposition, 
 she did not like to refuse the request of the 
 Ducbesse in an abrupt manner. After thinking 
 the matter over for some time, she finally re- 
 plied to Madame de Polignac's letter, by sending 
 her the following lines of poetry : — 
 
 " Tout ce que vous voyez conspire k vos d^sirs, 
 Vos jours toujonrs sereins coulent dans les plaisirs ; 
 L'empire en est pour vous I'in^puisable source ; 
 Ou, si quelque chagrin en interrompt la course, 
 Le courtisan, soigneux de les entretenir^ 
 S'empresse a I'effacer de votre souvenir. 
 Moi je suis seule ici^ quelque ennui qui me presse, 
 Je n'en vois dans mon sort aucun qui s'interessCj 
 Et n'ai pour tout plaisir, Madame, que ces fleurs, 
 Dont le parfum]_exquis vient charmer mes douleurs." 
 
 This delicate refusal to grant her request 
 may have somewhat ruffled Madame de Po- 
 lignac, in spite of the exceedingly charming 
 nature of the verses in which it was conveyed. 
 These she showed to several friends, who, in 
 order, perhaps, to flatter the Duchesse, con- 
 demned the production in no measured lan- 
 guage. One and all agreed that the verses 
 were very bad, not to say abominable, and 
 that Madame de Boufflers " ought to be ashamed 
 
38 PEEJUDICB PUNISHED. 
 
 of herself for writing such trash," or something 
 very much to that effect. 
 
 In course of time this most vicious piece 
 of criticism came to the ears of Madame de 
 Boufflers herself. All that the lady repHed on 
 this occasion was : " I am truly sorry, then, 
 for poor Eacine, for they are his verses, not 
 mine." In fact, they occur in " Britanoicus," 
 act ii. sc. iii., as Condorcet has pointed out. 
 
 Madame de Boufflers had been most fortunate 
 in the choice of these beautiful Hnes, for 
 nothing could have better represented the 
 repective positions occupied by the two ladies. 
 
 Yoltaire says there are many kinds of 
 ignorance, but that the worst kind of aU is 
 ignorant criticism. A critic, he asserts, is 
 bound to be doubly in the right ; first, as a man 
 who affirms a thing, and secondly as a man 
 who condemns. 
 
VIII. 
 
 THE PASTET-COOK POET. 
 
 TN the stort space of time embraced by this 
 -*- work, many and brilliant were the names 
 that appeared in the world of literature, art, 
 and science. 
 
 All the reasoning of Voltaire, all the sweet- 
 ness of Florian, the science of BufEon and 
 Lavoisier, the music of Gliick, Piccini and 
 Monsigny, were not sufficient to soften the 
 brutal feelings of mankind and avert the dia- 
 bolical atrocities of the great Revolution ! 
 
 In the musical and dramatic arts Paris was 
 favoured beyond measure at this period. Piccini, 
 Gretry, Grliick, Catel, Monsigny, Nicolo, 
 Dalayrac, and a little later, Spontini, Cherubiai, 
 and Paesiello, among the brilliant cortege of 
 composers ; Sophie Amould, Madame de St. 
 
40 FAVAET. 
 
 Huberty, Madame St. Aubin, Mademoiselle 
 Maillard, Martin, EUeviou, Micliii, G-avaudin, 
 among the singers; Mademoiselle Dugazon, 
 Dumesnil, Clairon, Lange, &c., among the 
 actresses; and Mademoiselle Guimard as prin- 
 cipal danseuse* who rode in a carriage and pair, 
 and gave "three suppers every week, one 
 to the nobility, the second to men of letters 
 and philosophers, the third to comedians and 
 all the rabble of the theatre." 
 
 Each name might afford the subject matter 
 of a volume ! v 
 
 Among the writers we have Favart — the 
 pastry-cook poet. Who does not know the Rue 
 Favart in Paris ? How many know anything 
 about the man ? 
 
 Favart was born in Paris, of very humble, 
 though honourable parentage, on the 13th No- 
 vember, 1710. His father was a gay, witty 
 fellow, and determined to give his son a good 
 education on the condition that, when he was 
 wanted to attend to the bakiag, he should 
 return to the paternal ovens. His mother 
 
 * In 1789, Mademoiselle Guimard was engaged for a season 
 in London ; it was whispered " that she was nearly sixty years 
 of age, but looked a charming sprite before the foot-lights." 
 In reality she was exactly forty-six, being born in 17 43. 
 
THE PASTEY-COOK POET. 41 
 
 found him books to read in the few leisure 
 moments he possessed, and he soon acquired 
 a very strong taste for literature in general. 
 Added to this, his father took him occasion- 
 ally to the Op^ra Comique — the theatre which 
 best suited his own gay disposition. 
 
 One of the boy's professors at the CoUfege 
 Louis le Grand was RoUin, the historian, whose 
 lectures he was attending when his father 
 died, and he was obUged to put an end to 
 his classical studies. He set vigorously to 
 work to support his afflicted mother, both 
 by the baking ovens and by his pen. His 
 first poem on the subject of " Joan of Arc" 
 won for him " The Yiolet" in the Academie 
 des Jeux Floraux — that was already something, 
 but it did not tempt him to abandon the 
 paternal shop. 
 
 Long after this, when he had written some 
 half-dozen libretti for the Op^ra Comique, he 
 used to imagine his work was only worth burn- 
 ing — at the end of the last verse of an opera 
 he had just finished, he frequently wrote the, 
 words : " good for Hghtiag the oven with." 
 
 It is said by competent judges that his 
 literature, hke his pastry, was a queer mixture 
 of " good, bad and indifferent." As with 
 
42 THE PASTEy-COOK POET. 
 
 the cakes, so the verses sometimes wanted 
 a little salt or spice, forgotten in the hurry of 
 the moment. One day he gave the public his 
 " Deux Jumelles," and this rather indifferent 
 opera met with a wonderful success. 
 
 He rushed back to his mother, overcome 
 with joy at the result. " Ah !" exclaimed 
 the good woman, "it never rains, but it pours — 
 and here is a large order just come from 
 Madame la Duchesse — ^no less than an entire 
 supper for this very eveniag !" 
 
 Poor Tavart passed his hand over his brow 
 as if to assure himself whether or no the laurels 
 of the poet were reaUy there, whilst his mother 
 brought him his cotton cap and his apron. 
 There "he was in a few moments, hard at 
 work, manufacturing pates, meringues and fan- 
 freluches. 
 
 A handsome carriage and pair pulls up at 
 the door. The good woman, with three pro- 
 found bows, introduces no less a personage 
 than a Fermier-g^neral, and then flies to the 
 back of the shop to adjust her toilette a little. 
 Favart rubs the flour from his hands and ad- 
 vances boldly towards the new-comer. The 
 latter spoke first. 
 
 " I have come to speak to Monsieur Favart, 
 
THE PASTEY-COOK POET. 43 
 
 the author of the opera I have just heard at 
 the theatre." 
 
 Instead of replying boldly, " I am Monsieur 
 Favart — do you want cakes or verses ?" the 
 pastry-cook for once lost his presence of mind, 
 pretended that he was only the boy of the 
 shop and answered meekly : 
 
 " Yes, Monseigneur, I wiU caU Monsieur Favart 
 immediately." 
 
 In, a few instants he returned hastily brushed 
 and dressed. " Here I am, Monsieur," — no longer 
 " Monseigneur," — " I have only just come in 
 from the theatre ; what might you desire ?" 
 
 " First of aU," said the Fermier-gen^ral, " let 
 us put aside aU this humbug and incognito,"' 
 Favart turned pale. " I learnt at the Opera 
 that the author of Les Deux Jumelles had no 
 money. Now, I am money itself personified; 
 to-morrow there is a dramatic fete at my house, 
 and I want you to arrange matters for me." 
 
 " Impossible !" ejaculated Favart, thinking of 
 the supper for the Duchesse, and throwing a 
 furtive glance in the direction of the ovens. 
 However, it ended by Favart jumping into the 
 carriage with his strange friend, and supping 
 at his house. 
 
 Whether Madame la Duchesse got her supper 
 
44 THE PASTEX-COOE POET. 
 
 history does not say; but from that moment 
 Favart's fortune was made, and he managed to 
 enjoy hfe tHl the 12th of May, 1792. Some of 
 his operas have outlived him; his piece called 
 " Les Trois Sultanes" was performed in Paris 
 only the other day. 
 
 Then there was his excellent wife, Madame 
 Favart, the celebrated singer, who in the very 
 opera just named was the first who dared to 
 introduce the real Turkish costume upon the 
 stage. Her sultana dress was made in ,Constan- 
 tinople expressly for the occasion. Many tried 
 to laugh at her, but she gained the day. When 
 she married Favart, he was manager of the 
 Op^ra Comique and the pastry-cook's shop had 
 passed into other hands. The Mardchal de 
 Saxe, commander-in-chief of the French armies, 
 who had a kind of theatre connected with the 
 camp, had tried hard to captivate her but did 
 not succeed. 
 
 Madame Favart was a charming singer and 
 actress, and a most accomplished musician. She 
 died comparatively young, long before her hus- 
 band, to whom she proved a very devoted wife 
 under the most arduous of circumstances. 
 
 We have said that our pastry-cook poet made 
 his debut by carrying off " The Violet " at the 
 
THE PASTRT-COOK POET. 45 
 
 Academie des Jeux Floraux for his poem on " Joan 
 of Arc." This Academy was a very old institu- 
 tion, founded in 1324, or thereabouts, in the 
 town of Toulouse. The town had long possessed 
 a literary club or society, the origin of which is 
 unknown ; it was already an old institution in 
 1323 when it bore the title of College du gai 
 Savoir, and was composed of seven poets and a 
 president. They conferred degrees, — love de- 
 grees — bachelors and doctors, "in love," and 
 taught the principles of the poet's art in their 
 legs d'amors.* In 1323 this society sent a 
 rhymed invitation to aU poets of the Langue d'Oc 
 (Languedoc) to compete for a prize which would 
 be decerned on the 3rd of May, 1324, to the 
 author of the best poem. The prize consisted of 
 a " Violet " worked in fine gold filagree. On 
 this occasion it was carHed ofE by Arnaud Yidal. 
 The town of Toulouse charmed with the eclat 
 produced by this poetical competition, decided 
 upon making it a permanent institution, and to 
 supply a Golden Yiolet for this purpose every 
 year. This has done much to encourage French 
 poetry. Other prizes were occasionally added 
 to the " Violet ;" they were other flowers ; but 
 
 * " Las legs d'amors,'' les lois d'amour. 
 
46 THE PASTBY-COOK POET. 
 
 " The Violet," gained by Favart, was the highest 
 reward. 
 
 It may interest our readers to know that this 
 Academy still flourishes. In the present year 
 no less than seven hundred and twelve pro- 
 ductions, both in verse and in prose, were sent 
 in to the " Concours des Jeux Floraux," but the 
 verse carried ofE all the flowers ; only honourable 
 mention beiag awarded to the more distinguished 
 prose works. 
 
IX. 
 
 OAGLIOSTEO AND THE COUNTESS DU BABEI. 
 
 -nSTWEEN 1781 and 1789 Paris was infested 
 ■^-^ with, various kinds of adventurers who con- 
 cealed their knavery under the mask of science. 
 Some of these were so clever that they not only 
 received large sums of money from the number 
 of persons whom they duped, but managed to 
 wriggle themselves into the very highest society. 
 In this respect, two foreigners were more con- 
 spicuous than the rest; one was Mesmer, who 
 had a certain knowledge of hysteria and 
 nervous effects; the other was Cagliostro, who 
 appears to have been a perfect charlatan of the 
 most impudent character. 
 
 Mesmer came from Germany, styled himself a 
 " professor," and lectured to crowded audiences 
 upon " animal magnetism." Many looked upon 
 him as an extraordinary and superior being. 
 
48 OAGLIOSTRO AND 
 
 He demanded large sums of moBey to explain 
 what lie termed his new discoveries, and he pro- 
 fessed to cure all kinds of diseases by his mag- 
 netic passes, &c. The whole nature of his pro- 
 ceedings is now well known,* but in his day the 
 nervous effects which he made use of had been 
 very little studied, and animal magnetism soon 
 became quite the rage in Paris. 
 
 The Countess du Barri was discoursing one 
 evening with several friends, upon the doings of 
 the said professor, when the Cardinal de Rohan, 
 who happened to be present, remarked that he 
 would bring forward some much more wonderful 
 things than any related that evening, and added : 
 " I am acquainted with a personage able to afford 
 you a view into those unknown regions where 
 man in his present state has never penetrated." 
 The Cardinal alluded to Cagliostro. 
 
 The Cardinal de Rohan was either a great fool 
 or a great knave, some think he combined a 
 little of each of these quahties. He was Bishop 
 of Strasburg when Cagliostro, who styled him- 
 self a " Count," somehow became acquainted 
 with him, and the fame of the impostor in France 
 
 * See Phipson, " Familiar Letters on some Mysteries of 
 Nature," Fourth Letter, London, 1876 ; and Carpenter in 
 " Fraser's Magazine," February, 1877. 
 
THE COUNTESS DTJ BAERI. 49 
 
 spread from that town soon afterwards. Both, 
 the Cardinal and the " Count " were implicated in 
 the celebrated affair of the diamond necklace, of 
 which more presently. Whether De Eohan 
 was in league with the impostors of the 
 period, or was simply duped by them is 
 uncertain; but, in the latter case, he must 
 have shut his eyes to a great deal of 
 roguery which most men would have seen 
 through easily. 
 
 On the present occasion he excited the cu- 
 riosity of the company so much, that the Coun- 
 tess du Barri gave him permission to introduce 
 this Cagliostro to her. 
 
 The result was, that in the course of the day, 
 the Cardinal de Rohan conducted to her house a 
 man of about forty years of age, or perhaps 
 older, for, as she says, " his physiognomy had an 
 indescribable something in it which baffled con- 
 jecture." He was handsome although slightly 
 wrinkled, and his large prominent eyes sparkled 
 with intelligence at once penetrating and malicious. 
 He was dressed with more magnificence than 
 taste; on his fingers and under his chin he 
 wore some superb diamonds. His hands were 
 moreover decorated with several antique gems or 
 cameos, a number of which were suspended from 
 
 E 
 
50 CAGLIOSTEO, AND 
 
 Ms watch chain. The head of his cane was set 
 with a profusion of fine emeralds, and rufSes of 
 the most costly lace completed his costume. He 
 spoke French with a decided Italian accent. 
 
 He was presented by the Cardinal de Eohan as 
 " the Count de CagHostro — a nobleman travelling 
 for his pleasure," — " and," interrupted the im- 
 postor, " to assist the cause of humanity." Ma- 
 dame du Barri speaks of the impression he made 
 upon her at this first interview, in the following 
 terms : " To me he seemed to have the air of a 
 mere itmerant mountebank, and his style of con- 
 versation although good in itself, was emphatic 
 bnt not natural ; he seemed to deal out his words 
 in an obscure and sententious form, as if he 
 imagined himself perfectly oracular ; it was ne- 
 cessary upon aU occasions to admit whatever he 
 advanced, for the least attempt at argument 
 closed his lips in utter silence. I had seen 
 sufficient of the world to form a tolerably correct 
 estimate of this man, who seemed to have gained 
 so completely on the credulity of the Cardinal, 
 but knowing how vain it would be to attempt to 
 stem the tide of favour which at present sup- 
 ported him, I received him with much polite- 
 ness." 
 
 After a few compliments had been bandied 
 
THE COUNTESS DtT BAEEI. 51 
 
 about, Cagliostro inquired whether it was true, 
 as he had been informed, that the Countess was 
 anxious to look into futurity, and, if so, he was 
 ready to accede to her demand. The lady having 
 replied in the affirmative — 
 
 " Are you quite sure," asked Cagliostro, " that 
 you have courage to look behind the dread cur- 
 tain which divides the present and past from the 
 future ?" 
 
 "Indeed," replied the Countess, "I am not 
 famous for courage, and only beg of you not to 
 expose me to any needless alarm." 
 
 " "Whatever you may see," continued the 
 Count, " you must not hold me responsible. I 
 am utterly ignorant of what this mirror will pre- 
 sent to your eyes, nor can I ever know unless 
 you are pleased to tell me." 
 
 WhUst saying this he drew from a side pocket, 
 in the breast of his coat, a metallic glass or 
 mirror, in an ebony case ornamented with a 
 variety of magical characters in gold and silver. 
 "If you do indeed desire to read the things 
 futurity has in store for you," he continued, pre- 
 senting the case to the lady, " open this case, 
 and carefully examine the polished surface of 
 the mirror it contains ; it will show you the 
 most important and solemn act of your whole 
 
 E 2 
 
62 CAGLIOSTEO, AND 
 
 life ; but ere you once allow your eyes to dwell 
 upon it, consider how far you have courage and 
 resolution to bear whatever may strike your gaze; 
 and be assured, that let its surface reflect you 
 either propitious scenes or otherwise, not one 
 circumstance can fail of being duly and fully ac- 
 complished." 
 
 These words were pronounced ia so deep and 
 solemn a tone that the Countess hesitated before 
 receiving the magic mirror from his hands. 
 However, curiosity was too strong for her, and 
 she determined to look into it. 
 
 " The Count perceiving my determination," 
 she says, " began pronouncing some barbarous 
 words utterly foreign to my ears ; he then begged 
 the Cardinal to repeat the Apostle's Creed, which 
 the Prince (not without much hesitation) did. 
 Cagliostro then suddenly opened the box and 
 taking out the mirror, laid it before me ; I cast 
 my eyes eagerly upon it, but the sight was too 
 horrible for mortal vision. I uttered a loud 
 scream, and fell fainting into the arms of Prince 
 Louis " (Cardinal de Rohan). 
 
 When the Countess recovered her senses, she 
 found herself extended on a couch surrounded by 
 her attendants aU in great alarm at her sudden 
 illness, and using every means to restore her to 
 
THE COUNTESS DU BAEEI. 63 
 
 life. The Cardinal saw her soon afterwards and 
 assured h,er of the extreme sorrow felt by 
 Cagliostro, who, he said, was in utter ignorance 
 of what had been seen upon the mirror. How- 
 ever, she forbid the. servants to allow the 
 " Count " to enter the house again ; and it was 
 more than a fortnight before Madame du Barri 
 regained her accustomed health. She never 
 could bring herself to reveal the appaUing vision ; 
 but after some years had elapsed, she began to 
 consider it as merely an optical delusion played 
 off by the man CagKostro in revenge for some 
 unintentional offence she might have given him. 
 At this long interval of time, however, she wrote 
 to a friend the following words : " There are 
 times when the frightful recollection rises 
 before me, and fills me with the most thrilling 
 dread." 
 
 A considerable time after this occurrence, 
 Madame du Barri had an interview with the 
 Duchess de Grrammont, who appears to have 
 been duped by an enthusiast of the name of 
 Cazotte ; and the conversation which ensued on 
 that occasion has been recorded in the, 
 Memoirs of the Countess. After alluding to 
 past times and the actual state of France, 
 Madame du Barri remarked : — " Yes, we have 
 
54 CAGLIOSTEO, AND 
 
 botli lost dear and powerful friends ; wMtlier will 
 our adverse fate next lead us ?" 
 
 " To the scaffold, i£ there be any truth in the 
 prophecy of Gazette !" exclaimed Madame de 
 Grammont. 
 
 " What do I hear ?" cried the Gountess with 
 horror, " has such a destiny been foretold to you 
 also ?" 
 
 " How ! also ? has it been revealed to you as 
 weU as myself ?" 
 
 Eemembering the mirror of CagHostro, the 
 Countess shuddered and said : " How wicked are 
 those impostors who thus play upon our credulity!" 
 
 "I must not hear you class Gazette among 
 such mere pretenders to the art," returned the 
 Duchess ; and she then related that one evening 
 when M. de Gazotte was at a large party, he was 
 requested to consult the planets and make known 
 the destiny of the persons present. He evaded 
 the subject as long as he could, but being pressed, 
 " he declared that of the whole company then 
 before him not one would escape a violent and 
 pubHo death, from which not even the King and 
 Queen would be exempt." 
 
 On hearing these words a cry of terror escaped 
 from the lips of Madame du Barri, whilst her 
 companion was calm and collected. 
 
THE OOUNTESS DU BAREI. 55 
 
 " Surely," said the Ductess " you would not 
 object to mount tlie scaffold in sucli honourable 
 society ?" 
 
 This conversation took place in 1787. A few 
 years later, when the poor Countess perished on 
 the scaffold, the scene was one of the most 
 iniquitous and disgraceful of the whole revolu- 
 tion. 
 
X. 
 
 THE DIAMOND NECKLACE. 
 
 MADAME CAMPAJS", one of the most de- 
 voted friends of the unfortunate Marie 
 Antoinette, tells us in her Memoirs that in the 
 year 1774 the Queen had purchased from the 
 jeweller Boehmer some diamond ornaments, to the 
 value of £14,400, and that they were paid for out 
 of her private purse ; moreover, that she had 
 taken several years to effect this payment. 
 
 Since then the King had presented the Queen 
 with a beautiful necklace of rubies and diamonds, 
 and also with a pair of bracelets of the value 
 of some £8000. On this occasion, Marie An- 
 toinette declared that she had jewels enough, 
 and that she would never purchase any more. 
 Nevertheless, Boehmer, who had been for some 
 time past making a collection of the finest 
 diamonds he could meet with, offered the whole 
 
THE DIAMOND NECKLACE. 57 
 
 of them to the Queen in the shape of a superb 
 necklace that he valued at £64,000. Her 
 Majesty at once refused the ofEer, and the 
 King is said to have stated, referring to the 
 hostilities with England, "We require a man- 
 of-war rather than a piece of jewellery." 
 
 In spite of all this, Boehmer persisted in 
 endeavouring to dispose of the necklace to the 
 Queen, and he pushed matters so far that he 
 actually obtained an audience of Her Majesty, 
 at which he behaved like a madman, saying 
 that he would be ruined if she did not pur- 
 chase the diamonds, and that he should com- 
 mit suicide. This conduct angered the Queen, 
 who ordered him, to leave her presence, and 
 for a long time afterwards nothing was heard 
 of him, at least at Court. The matter was 
 in fact quite forgotten, when one morning he 
 was to dehver some piece of jewellery that he 
 had repaired, and presented himself before the 
 Queen as she was returning from mass. He 
 appeared in the best of humours and took the 
 opportunity of presenting a letter, a short 
 petition, at the same time. In the writing, 
 he expressed himself " happy to see Her Majesty 
 in possession of the finest diamonds in the 
 world, and begged her not to forget him." 
 
68 THE DIAMOND NECKLACE. 
 
 The Queen imagined he must be mad, and put 
 the letter in the fire, sayiag " that is not worth 
 keeping." 
 
 This was some time in 1785 ; on the 1st of 
 August of that year Madame Oampan quitted 
 Versailles to go to her own house, and on the 
 3rd the jeweller BcBhmer called upon her, com- 
 plaining that he had received no answer to the 
 letter he had delivered to the Queen. 
 
 Madame Campan replied that there was no 
 answer to give, and that Her Majesty had burnt 
 the letter. 
 
 " But the Queen knows that she owes me 
 money !" exclaimed the jeweller. 
 
 " Money, Monsieur Bcehmer ! it is long since 
 we have settled all your accounts against the 
 Queen." 
 
 " Madame, you cannot be in the secret, a man 
 is not paid but ruined when he is refused more 
 than £60,000 that is owing to him !" 
 
 " Have you lost your wits, sir ? How on earth 
 could the Queen possibly owe you such a sum of 
 money ?" 
 
 " For my diamond necklace, Madame," replied 
 the jeweller coldly. 
 
 " What ! that same necklace which you tor- 
 mented Her Majesty about some years ago ? I 
 
THE DIAMOND NECKLACE. 59 
 
 thouglit you said you had sold it at Constan- 
 tiaople." 
 
 " It -was the Queen who ordered me to reply 
 so to any who made inquiries about it." 
 
 He then related to Madame Oampan that the 
 necklace had been purchased for the Queen by 
 the Cardinal de Rohan. 
 
 " You are deceived !" cried Madame Oampan, 
 "the Queen has not spoken to the Cardinal 
 since her return from Vienna, there is not a man 
 in less favour in the whole court." 
 
 " You are deceived yourself, Madame," retorted 
 the jeweller, " she sees his Eminence privately, 
 and she has given him £12,000 on account, 
 which she took in his presence from the little 
 secretaire in porcelain that stands near the 
 chimney-piece of her boudoir." 
 
 " The Cardinal told you that?" 
 
 " Yes, Madame." 
 
 " Oh ! what an odious piece of intrigue !" 
 
 " Truly, Madame, I begin to be frightened — 
 for the Cardinal told me she would wear the 
 necklace on Whitsunday, and she did not do so ; 
 that is what caused me to write to Her Majesty," 
 
 Soon after this the jeweller left; Madame 
 Oampan recommended him to see M. de BreteuU, 
 court minister ; but it appears that he only saw 
 
60 THE DIAMOND NECKLACE. 
 
 the Cardinal, and kept begging an audience of 
 the Queen. Marie Antoinette refused to see him, 
 believing that he must be mad. 
 
 Some days later, Madame Campan saw the- 
 Queen at Trianon, and the above conversation 
 vras related, much to Her Majesty's astonishment. 
 It wiU be observed that during the whole of it 
 not a word had been said about the woman De la 
 Motte, who afterwards figured so conspicuously 
 in this affair. 
 
 On the 15th of August following, an extraor- 
 dinary scene occurred at Versailles. The Car- 
 dinal de Rohan, who was waiting in the King's 
 chamber the moment for attending mass, at 
 which it is believed he was to officiate, was at 
 twelve o'clock, suddenly summoned to the King's 
 private cabinet, the Queen was also present. The 
 following conversation ensued; Louis XVI. 
 being the first to speak : — 
 
 "You have bought some diamonds from 
 Boehmer ?" 
 
 " Yes, Sire." 
 
 " What have you done with them ?" 
 
 " I believe they were handed to the Queen." 
 
 " Who authorised you to undertake this busi- 
 ness ?" 
 
 " A lady, Madame la Comtesse de la Motte 
 
THE DIAMOND NECKLACE. 61 
 
 Valois, who had presented to me a letter from 
 the Queen, and I thought I should enter into Her 
 Majesty's good graces by executing the com- 
 mission." 
 
 At this juncture the Queen interrupted him, 
 and exclaimed : — 
 
 " How, sir, could you believe — you to whom I 
 have not spoken a word for eight years — how 
 could you imagine that I should have chosen you 
 to undertake such a negotiation with such a 
 woman ?" 
 
 " I see," returned the Cardinal, " that I have 
 been cruelly deceived. I will pay for the neck- 
 lace; it was the desire to please Your Majesty, 
 that blinded my eyes — I saw no trickery — I am 
 very sorry for what has occurred." 
 
 He then took out of his pocket the letter sup- 
 posed to have been written by the Queen to the 
 said Madame de la Motte. The King took it, 
 and showing it to the Cardinal, said : 
 
 " That is neither the writing of the Queen nor 
 her signature ; how could a Prince of the house 
 of Rohan and a Great Almoner be so ignorant as 
 to believe that the Queen would sign herself 
 ' Marie Antoinette de France ?' Everyone knows 
 that Queens only sign the Christian name — But," 
 continued His Majesty, presenting to the Cardinal 
 
62 THE DIAMOND NECKLACE. 
 
 a copy of Ms letter to tlie jeweller — " do you re- 
 member -writing a letter of wHch this is a copy ?" 
 
 The Cardinal after glancing over it said, he 
 did not remember it. 
 
 " But how if we could show you the original 
 with your signature attached ?" 
 
 " If the letter is signed by me, Sire, it must 
 be exact." 
 
 " Then, explain the whole of this enigma to 
 us," continued the King, " I do not wish to find 
 you culpable, I desire that you should justify 
 yourself. Explain to me all these communica- 
 tions with Boehmer — these assurances and these 
 letters ?" 
 
 The Cardinal, according to Madame Oampan, 
 turned deadly pale at these words, and de- 
 clared that he was too much unnerved to reply 
 categorically. At which the King said, " Com- 
 pose yourself. Monsieur le Cardinal, pass into my 
 cabinet where you will find ink and paper, write 
 down what you would wish to say to me." 
 
 He did so, and returned in about a quarter of 
 an hour; but the statement in writing was as 
 vague as his conversation ; on which the King 
 said " Eetire, sir !" The Cardinal was at once 
 arrested. 
 
 An adventuress, who styled herself the Countess 
 
THE DIAMOND NECKLACE. 63 
 
 de la Motte, tad plotted tte wliole afEair. Slie 
 had deceived tlie Cardinal and the jeweller, had 
 forged the Queen's signature, and had actually 
 pretended to concoct a meeting between the 
 Queen and the Cardinal at Versailles at twelve 
 o'clock at night, when a young woman named 
 OUva, who resembled Marie Antoinette in face 
 and figure, and who held some minor post at 
 court, personified the Queen for an instant 
 and then disappeared among the shrubbery. 
 
 The Queen had never even seen the woman 
 De la Motte. 
 
 The celebrated trial upon this robbery began 
 in December, 1786, and only ended in May, 
 1786. The persons cited to appear were the 
 young person named Oliva, the " Count" Cag- 
 liostro, M. de Yilette, the woman De la Motte 
 (the wife of a guardsman) and the Cardinal de 
 Eohan, whose trial was reserved for the last. 
 Mademoiselle Oliva confessed that she personified 
 the Queen in the scene at night in the shrubbery, 
 but that she did so at the instance of Madame 
 de la Motte, who assured her it was only to 
 amuse the Queen that this little piece of acting 
 was imagined. Cagliostro, who was, probably 
 at the bottom of the whole concern, declared that 
 he was perfectly ignorant of the entire occurrence. 
 
64 THE DIAMOND NECKLACE. 
 
 Vilette admitted that the signature " Marie 
 Antoinette de France" was in his handwriting. 
 The woman De la Motte appeared before her 
 judges with a degree of impudence that was quite 
 revolting, and denied everything, even things 
 that were proved beyond a doubt. The Cardinal 
 pretended that he had been duped ; by dint of 
 bribery and enormous pressure he managed to 
 get a favourable verdict, though it seemed at 
 first decided that he had disgraced himself. 
 
 The upshot of the whole trial was condensed 
 in the following decision of the Court. 
 
 Four points were considered proved, namely : — 
 
 1. That the Cardinal was persuaded he pur- 
 chased the necklace for the Queen. 
 
 2. That the authorisation signed " Marie 
 Antoinette de France" was written by Vilette at 
 the instigation of the woman De la Motte. 
 
 3. That the necklace had been delivered to 
 Madame de la Motte in the belief that she would 
 deliver it to the Queen. 
 
 4. That her husband had carried it off to 
 London, broken it up, and sold the most 
 valuable of the stones. 
 
 Madame de la Motte was condemned to bave 
 her two sboulders branded with, the letter V 
 (voleuse), to have her head shaved by the 
 
THE DIA.MOND NECKLACE. 65 
 
 executioner, and to be confined for life in the 
 prison of La Salpdtri^re at Paris. Yilette was 
 banished for life; Cagliostro sent out of the 
 kingdom ; and Mademoiselle Oliva expelled 
 from the Court. The Cardinal was discharged ; 
 a decision which displeased the King and Queen 
 exceedingly. 
 
 The woman De la Motte was afterwards re- 
 moved to the hospital of Guingamp, whence she 
 contrived to escape and got over to London. 
 
 On the 7th April, 1791, the adventurer 
 Cagliostro was condemned by the Inquisition at 
 Eome as a freemason ! 
 
XL 
 
 A MUSICAL SCENE ON THE BOULEVARDS. 
 
 A T this period tte warfare between the 
 -^ Gliickists and Piccinists was at its height — 
 Gliick, the favourite composer and instructor of 
 Marie Antoinette, adored by the Court, — Piccini, 
 the composer of the people, the representative 
 of the melodious Italian school. The eccentric 
 Gretry was putting forth some of his most suc- 
 cessful compositions. Sacchini, also in Paris, 
 was composing operas and giving instructions to 
 the promising Mrs. Billington, during her visit 
 there. Mademoiselle Clairon, who tells us that 
 she was baptised by a priest dressed as harlequin, 
 and his clerk as a clown, was still the great 
 tragic actress, and Madame de St. Huberty, the 
 elegant representative of French opera, had 
 risen high in the estimation of Gliick. 
 
 The superb dcmseuses Oarmargo and Guimard 
 
A MUSICAL SCENE ON THE BOULEVARDS. 67 
 
 had long delighted the Parisian pubUc; the 
 former born in Brussels, of Spanish parents, 
 and whose family had given cardinals to Rome, 
 had already retired; the latter, the heroine of 
 the Opera, for so many years, was about to do 
 so. Sophie Arnould was also past the meridian 
 of her talent, though still clever and witty as 
 ever. After living for eight years as the wife 
 of the Count de Lauraguais, she had thought 
 proper one morning to order her magnificent car- 
 riage 'to be driven round to the door, had placed 
 in it all the jewels and costly ornaments that the 
 Count had, at various times, presented to her, 
 together with her two infants, and dispatched 
 them all to the real Countess — who, it is asserted, 
 kept the children, but returned the jewels — and 
 had retired, more or less, from pubhc life as 
 the great storm was brewing. 
 
 It was some years before this, on a fine July 
 evening of the year 1778, that the good folks 
 strolling along the Boulevards, or seated before 
 the httle tables of a cafe at the corner of the 
 Rue de la Michaudiere, which forms an angle with 
 the Boulevard, were struck by the magnificent 
 voice of an itinerant musician, a handsome 
 Itahan girl, who accompanied herself upon the 
 guitar. The effect she produced upon her mis- 
 
 p 2 
 
68 A MUSICAL SCENE ON THE BOUIiEVAEDS. 
 
 cellaneous audience was most remarkable. Pro- 
 menaders stood in compact masses to listen; 
 the carriages of the aristocracy drew up for the 
 same purpose, and children climbed the trunks 
 of the trees to see what was going on. 
 
 A taU, dark, elegant girl, apparently not 
 twenty years of age, was the cause of all this 
 wonder. She had an old guitar swung from her 
 shoulders, and she sang to its soft accompani- 
 ment, and in exquisite style, the most brilliant 
 cavatinas of the operatic repertoire. 
 
 Her performance brought down thunders of 
 applause, at which she smiled gracefully in 
 acknowledgment, as she held out her hand to 
 receive the preferred coin. Her receipts for that 
 evening alone might have been envied by more 
 than one of the minor theatres. The girl's face 
 was bronzed and handsome, her hair dark as 
 coal, like her large expressive eyes ; her hands 
 soft, white and delicate, hke those of a lady of 
 high birth. But the great wonder of all was her 
 voice. It was of enormous compass, sonorous, 
 flexible and of exquisite sweetness. Bravowa 
 airs, love songs, comic songs and fioritura of all 
 descriptions flowed forth successively to the 
 inexpressible delight of the listeners. Never 
 had such a treat been given to the loungers on 
 
A MUSICAL SCENE ON THE BOULEVARDS. 69 
 
 the Boulevards ; and many well known connois- 
 seurs did not Hesitate to assert that they had 
 iiever heard such splendid singing in their lives. 
 
 The young cantatrice had finished her labours 
 in that district and was about to retire from the 
 scene of these ovations, the carriages were 
 moving on and the strollers resuming their 
 promenade, when a gentleman of some five and 
 forty years of age, who, with his arms fixed 
 immoveably upon one of the tables of the cafe 
 and his eyes rivetted upon the singer, had 
 listened with astonishment and delight to her 
 cadenzas and fioritura, beckoned her to approach, 
 slipped a piece of gold into her hand and said,. 
 
 " "What is your name ?" 
 
 " Brigitti," replied the girl. 
 
 " How old are you ?" 
 
 "Nineteen, Monsieur." 
 
 " Who taught you music ?" 
 
 " My father." 
 
 " How long did you learn ?" 
 
 " Two months." 
 
 " But two months could not have enabled you 
 to learn aU those songs." 
 
 " No, but I can sing what I hear sung. I 
 repeat the airs I hear untU I know them 
 myself." 
 
70 A MUSICAL SCENE ON THE BOULEVAEDS. 
 
 After some f urtlier conversation of tte same 
 kind the gentleman said, 
 
 " But would you not like to become a singer 
 at tke Opera? You seem very fond of music, 
 you feel what you sing — ^would it not be better 
 to study for the operatic stage than to sing 
 about in the streets ?" 
 
 At these words the girl's eyes filled with 
 tears, and as they trickled down her finely 
 sculptured features, she replied in bitter tones, 
 
 " Is it possible. Monsieur, that a poor girl hke 
 me, without education, without a friend in the 
 world, can hope for such things as you speak 
 of ? No, Monsieur, my destiny, alas ! is to live 
 and die a poor street-singer." 
 
 Monsieur Desvimes, for that was the gentle- 
 man's name, was grieved at having wounded 
 her pride; for she was evidently ambitious by 
 nature. He seized her hand, as he said, 
 
 " Listen, my young friend, I had no inten- 
 tion of hurting your feelings ; on the contrary, 
 I am so pleased with what I have heard of your 
 singing this evening, that I am willing to see 
 whether something cannot be done for you." 
 Then taking a card from his pocket-book, he 
 added, " This is my address. If you call at my 
 house to-morrow at midday, you shall meet 
 
A MUSICAL SCBNE ON THE BOULEVAEDS. 71 
 
 some gentlemen who may feel disposed to take 
 an interest in your aSairs, and enable you to 
 embrace a better career." 
 
 The girl nodded assent, and withdrew. Her 
 heart was too full to speak. 
 
 Monsieur Desvimes was for some time manager 
 of the French Opera, and a man who, though 
 he had retired from the active duties of manage- 
 ment, still exercised very considerable influence 
 in the Parisian world of art. He was a person of 
 tact and experience, with a kind heart and much 
 good taste. One of his hobbies was that of 
 making new discoveries, and finding out good 
 singers for the lyric drama. In .this Italian 
 girl he imagined he had found a real treasure, 
 and awaited her arrival with no small degree of 
 impatience. 
 
 She knocked at the door of M. Desvimes' 
 apartments at the appointed hour. Several 
 musicians of eminence were already there. The 
 conversation of the preceding evening was 
 repeated, and the young singer added to what 
 we have already given, that her name was 
 Brigitti Banti, that she was born in the little 
 ItaHan village of Monticelh d'Ongina, where 
 her father was formerly a minstrel, a violin 
 player, and had no little difficulty to support his 
 
72 A MUSICAL SCENE ON THE BOULEVARDS. 
 
 family by the exercise of his profession. A 
 premature death had carried him off, leaving 
 the widow totally unprovided for. Brigitti, who 
 possessed a fine voice had wandered from village 
 to village, from town to town, singing for her 
 daily bread. 
 
 To the connoisseurs at M. Desvimes' house the 
 girl sang some of the best songs of her repertoire. 
 One of them played to her a cavatina by Sacchini 
 which she sang perfectly after hearing it played 
 twice. An air of Grliick's composition was then 
 tried, in which she was no less successful. 
 
 It was at once decided that her education 
 should be provided for, the services of proper 
 instructors engaged, and that Brigitti Banti 
 should be, with as little delay as possible, trans- 
 formed into an educated prima donna. In a 
 few months she gave her masters the most 
 astonishing promise, and shortly, indeed, she 
 did become, as our readers are doubtless aware, 
 one of the finest singers in Europe. 
 
 After meeting with unexampled success at the 
 opera houses of Germany, Austria, and Italy, 
 she came to London, where she remained a 
 favourite prima donna for ten years (1792 — 1802) 
 giving constant delight to her audiences. 
 
 A touching scene is related of a visit to her 
 
A MUSICAL SCENE ON THE BOULEVAEDS. 73 
 
 native village in the course of her travels through 
 Italy. She had not been near it for, many years. 
 "When she left she was a poor forlorn girl in rags, 
 she was now already rich, celebrated, universally 
 admired. Her heart beat loudly as she ap- 
 proached the well known, still loved, slopes of 
 her former home, for her desire to see it once 
 again was inextinguishable. 
 
 It was in vain, however, that she sought for 
 the familiar form of her poor father's cottage, 
 with its little grassy bank and the large trees. 
 Alas ! they had all disappeared to enlarge the 
 entrance to some lordly park in the neighbour- 
 hood. Neither did she recognise a single face 
 she met in the little streets of the village. 
 
 The celebrated cantatrice was withdrawing 
 from this desolate scene, her heart saddened, 
 and with moistened eyelids, when she perceived, 
 at a little distance, a beggar in rags whose 
 countenance was wrinkled with care and suffer- 
 ing, though he was still young. As he ap- 
 proached and begged for alms, there was some- 
 thing in his gait and voice that La Banti was 
 struck with. 
 
 " "Where do you come from ?" she inquired. 
 
 "From Monticelli." 
 
 " Do you live with your parents ?" 
 
74 A MTTSICAL SCENE ON THE BOULEVABDS. 
 
 " I have no parents." 
 
 " How long is it since your father died ?" 
 
 "About eight or nine years." 
 
 " Have you no sistec younger than yourself ? 
 
 " I had one, but I don't know what has be- 
 come of her." 
 
 " Is not your name Antonio Banti ?" 
 
 At these words the beggar raised his eyes in 
 astonishment. 
 
 " How do you know that ?" he exclaimed. 
 
 Brigitti could not reply, she threw herself into 
 the arms of her brother, and bathed his face 
 with her tears of joy. 
 
XII. 
 
 MABIE ANTOINETTE AS AN AOTEESS. 
 
 TT lias been said, tliougli upon very slender 
 J- authority, that Queen Marie An.toiaette had 
 the greatest faith in the good taste and artistic 
 perfection of Mademoiselle Guimard, the great 
 Terpsichore of the period. Houssaye assures us 
 that the Queen admitted the celebrated danseuse 
 to her " toilette Councils," and took her advice 
 in the presence of the Princess de Chimay, the 
 Countess d'Ossan and the Marchioness of Eoche- 
 Aymon. 
 
 That the residence of La Gruimard at Pantin, 
 as well as her luxurious palace in the Chaus^e 
 d'Antin, quite ecHpsed the Petit Trianon in the 
 matter of theatrical performances and brilliant 
 suppers, no one can doubt, but that she was ever 
 admitted into the Queen's confidence in matters 
 
IQ MAEIB ANTOINETTE AS AN ACTEESS. 
 
 of toilette, is perhaps only anotlier of those 
 scandalous reports that were so eagerly -welcomed 
 at Paris, and mostly emanated from the personages 
 attached to the Court, whom outsiders felt bound 
 to beheve. Houssaye is evidently the victim of 
 such untruthful reports when he asserts that one 
 day Mademoiselle Gruimard being ordered to prison 
 for contempt of the magistrates said to her maid : 
 " Don't cry, Grothon, I have written to the Queen 
 that I have discovered a new and effective method 
 of dressing the hair, and I shall be at liberty this 
 very evening." 
 
 At the time when private theatricals formed a 
 notable portion of the amusements at Trianon, 
 about the year 1780, Mademoiselle Gruimard was 
 already passing into retirement. 
 
 " Private " theatricals was indeed the proper 
 term; for these amateur performances were, at 
 first, kept very select ; pubhc curiosity was by no 
 means satisfied, though constantly excited ; and 
 people were particularly anxious to learn any- 
 thing they could of the Queen's recent taste for 
 this kind of amusement. Those who enjoyed the 
 privilege of being present at the Petit Trianon 
 when such a -performance was given, reported 
 that the Queen always selected the parts of wait- 
 ing-maids, soubrettes, &c., which some went so 
 
MAEIE ANTOINETTE AS AN ACTRESS. 11 
 
 far as to consider a breach, of etiquette, and ex- 
 pressed no little surprise that Her Majesty, not 
 satisfied with becoming an actress, should choose 
 to appear wearing the dress of servitude belong- 
 ing to the characters she was pleased to assume. 
 At the present day such, scruples appear 
 ludicrous. Art in any form ; whether that 
 of the actress, the painter, or the musician, may 
 certainly be cultivated by a queen or a peasant, 
 without violating any rules of " etiquette." 
 Mesdames Jules and Diane de Polignac were also 
 enlisted in the cor'ps dramatique, whilst the 
 actors were the Comte d'Artois, M. de Dillon, 
 Reyneval, de Ooigny, de Vaucheuil, d'Adhemer 
 and several others. Two well known comedians, 
 Dagincourt and Dugazon, were chosen to instruct 
 these illustrious amateurs in their new voca- 
 tion. 
 
 As for the audience, it consisted principally of 
 different members of the Eoyal Family. Few 
 other persons were admitted, except those of the 
 Queen's household who were placed in the back 
 seats, quite at the extremity of the apartment in 
 which the stage and its appurtenances were 
 erected. 
 
 In spite of scandal and backbiting it was a gay, 
 happy time compared to what was destined to 
 
78 MAEIE ANTOINETTE AS AN ACTEESS. 
 
 follow some short ten or twelve years later ! 
 Many and interesting were tlie little episodes 
 tliat managed to ooze out of tlie Courtly 
 Theatre and found their way to the general 
 pubhc. At one of the representations, just 
 at the moment when the Queen had concluded 
 a little song, a loud hiss was heard through 
 the theatre. Her Majesty, fully sensible of 
 there being but one person in the company 
 who would dare to presume risking such a mark 
 of disapprobation, advanced to the front of the 
 stage and, addressing the King, said with a low 
 courtesy : 
 
 " Sir, if my performance does not meet with 
 your approbation, have the kindness to retire, 
 you will have your money returned to you at the 
 door." 
 
 The clever and playful retort was loudly ap- 
 plauded, and the King, while asking pardon for 
 his offence, protested that he had committed it 
 merely for the sake of mischief, and by no means 
 from ill-nature. Alas ! how few people know 
 where a joke ends, and an insult begins ! The 
 injury that the most simple joke may possibly 
 occasion is quite suflElcient, without the necessity 
 of adding insult to it. The King had not the 
 shghtest idea of proferring an insult to his 
 
MARIE ANTOINETTE AS AN ACTRESS. 79 
 
 charming and accomplislied consort; however, 
 uncliaritable people at once admitted that 
 Marie Antoinette's acting was below medi- 
 ocrity, and might well justify the disproval of 
 His Majesty. Others were of a different 
 opinion. 
 
 In process of time, when the royal amateurs 
 had made as they imagined considerable progress 
 in the dramatic art, they invited the presence of 
 a larger audience. A select number of distin- 
 guished persons were admitted to the representa- 
 tions, and this created no httle envy and jealousy 
 among those who were excluded. The latter 
 never dreamt that the limited dimensions of the 
 theatre at Trianon could not accommodate every- 
 one, and that most probably all would receive 
 invitations in their turn. It was nevertheless 
 an awkward business, and no doubt con- 
 tributed to increase the number of the Queen's 
 enemies. 
 
 It was on this occasion, that one of these 
 "serpents in the grass" actually made the ill- 
 natured and prophetic remark : " It appears 
 that Her Majesty seems very fond of playing 
 comedy ; perhaps, ere long, she will favour us with 
 a tragedy." 
 
 It was not long before the disapprobation ex- 
 
80 MAEIE ANTOINETTE AS AN ACTEESS. 
 
 pressed about these private theatricals — prompted 
 as we "have just said, by envy — reached the 
 Queen's ears, and in order to neutralise the 
 effects of it, she thought of inducing some other 
 member of the Royal Family to join the company. 
 Her choice naturally fell upon Madame, wife of 
 Monsieur, Oomte de Provence (afterwards Louis 
 XVIII), although a certain coolness had lately 
 existed between these two princesses. In spite 
 of this, the Queen solicited her sister-in-law 
 earnestly to take part in the performances, and 
 to study a role for the next play that would be 
 given. It appears that Madame was by no 
 means adverse to this proposal, but her husband 
 positively refused to permit it in spite of aU kinds 
 of entreaties. 
 
 Marie Antoinette was exceedingly displeased 
 at this severity, and remonstrated strongly upon 
 it ; but the Comte de Provence merely repHed 
 that " his rank and position did not permit his 
 wife to become an actress." 
 
 " When I do not consider it derogatory to my 
 dignity," replied the Queen, throwing back her 
 head with that proud gesture which was at times 
 peculiar to her, " methinks Madame might safely 
 follow my example." 
 
 "Pardon me," added her brother-in-law. 
 
MARIE ANTOINETTE AS AN ACTRESS. 81 
 
 " Your Majesty is Queen and may do any- ■ 
 thing." 
 
 " I understand," rejoined Marie Antoinette, 
 "Madame is merely Queen in expectation, and 
 you would fain see her ascend the throne sur- 
 rounded by the high homage and respect of the 
 whole nation." 
 
 " I did not say so," answered the Oomte de 
 Provence with imperturbable coolness, and pre- 
 paring to leave the room. 
 
 " But you thought so, my good brother, which 
 is not much better," said the Queen; on which 
 Monsieur, with a low bow, quitted the apart- 
 ment. 
 
 There are several different versions of this 
 little fanuly scene, but in the main they agree 
 tolerably with what we have just related. One 
 account says that the Oomte d'Artois was pre- 
 sent, and listened in silence to the above dialogue. 
 When his brother had retired he exclaimed, with 
 a laugh : 
 
 " Really, Your Majesty must pardon me if, 
 beheving you were angry, I did not venture to 
 interfere in the discussion, but now that I per- 
 ceive you are but jesting, I would fain share your 
 mirth." 
 
XIII. 
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIEON AND HEE LOVEES. 
 
 LET US now glance at tte life of a professional 
 artiste ; let us leave the Queen Marie 
 Antoinette and ter royal amateurs, and depict 
 briefly the career of the most celebrated actress 
 of that day, the clever, piquante and pretty 
 Hippolyte Clairon. Her influence on the period 
 extends some time back into the latter days 
 of Louis XV., when her success was at its 
 greatest height, but spreads, nevertheless, far 
 into the days of the great Revolution, by which 
 she suffered like so many others. 
 
 The lives of the actresses of the eighteenth 
 century are more curious and more romantic 
 than anything to be found in fiction. In those 
 days they knew how to enjoy life; they were 
 the grasshoppers who sang and danced through- 
 
CLAIEON AND HEB LOVBES. 83 
 
 out the bright summer, forgetting that the cold 
 winds of winter were in store for them. They 
 never, hke the ant, thought of November whilst 
 they enjoyed the golden days of May. After 
 aU, is La Fontaine's doctrine right? There 
 are people who think it was the grasshopper, 
 and not the ant, that had the best of it. 
 However, it cannot be very pleasant to be a 
 queen in summer and a beggar in winter. 
 
 Mademoiselle Clairon was born near the Belgian 
 frontiers at Conde, in Hainault, in 1723; it was 
 carnival time, and her mother brought her into 
 the world, a seven months' child, between two 
 and three o'clock in the afternoon. It was the 
 custom of the little town to dance and be 
 merry at this time of the year, and the parish 
 priest was as fond of a masquerade as the rest 
 of them. The child was so dehcate that mother 
 and grandmother believed it could not survive 
 more than a few moments, and as both were 
 piously inclined, they decided on carrying the 
 infant at once to the church to have it baptised. 
 Not a soul was there, but a kind neighbour 
 informed them that the ecclesiastics were at 
 an afternoon dance, in fancy dress, at a gentle- 
 man's house close by. Without a moment's 
 delay the child was carried there. M. le Cur^ 
 
 G 2 
 
84 CLAIEON AND HEE LOVERS. 
 
 appeared dressed as a harlequin, and his in- 
 cumbent as a clown ; they thought the case 
 urgent, stopped the violins, took what was 
 necessary from the side-board, and having pro- 
 nounced the sacred words, sent the infant home 
 baptised by the name of Hippolyte Leyris de la 
 Tude Claire. The world knows her better, 
 however, as Hippolyte Clairon. 
 
 Her mother was not only poor, but cruel and 
 superstitious. She was a furious Romanist, and 
 she beat her daughter to make her fear Grod. 
 When eleven years of age, the Httle Hippolyte 
 was never allowed to play in the sunshine with 
 other children, but was frequently shut up to 
 sew in a miserable little room without any 
 furniture, and the only books she ever saw 
 were a church catechism, and a prayer book. 
 At Paris her Kttle prison looked on to a large 
 house, in which she once saw a window wide open 
 opposite to her own. A marvellous spectacle 
 then displayed itself — nothing less than the 
 already distinguished, and afterwards celebrated, 
 Mademoiselle Dangeville taking a dancing lesson. 
 To the little Hippolyte it seemed like a dream. 
 Day after day, at the same hour, she sprang 
 to her tiny window, and not only enjoyed the 
 wonderful sight, but actually learnt the steps 
 
OLAIRON AND HBE LOVERS. 85 
 
 and postures of tlie rising actress so accurately, 
 that one afternoon she astonished her mother 
 and some relatives by a performance of the 
 same kind. One of the latter insisted on taking 
 her to the theatre. " To the theatre," cried 
 the mother, " you might just as well take her 
 to perdition." " Tranquillize yourself , madame," 
 rejoined the other, " you have already sent your 
 daughter to the theatre by shutting her up in 
 the adjoining room." It ended not only in 
 going to the theatre to witness a performance, 
 but in the engagement, some few months later, 
 of the precocious child at the Theatre Italien, 
 where she took certain children's roles. There, 
 however, it was impossible to stay, one of the 
 actors having some children of his own to push 
 on, with whose success Hippolyte would have 
 seriously interfered. 
 
 So she was drafted into La Noue's troupe at 
 Eouen, when she was little more than thirteen, 
 and sang, danced or played any parts which 
 happened to suit her in the repertoire, re- 
 maining at the theatre for several years. From 
 the first the clever girl was received into society, 
 and her constantly increasing success surrounded 
 her with admirers of every description. At the 
 house of Madame de Bimorel, more especially. 
 
86 OLAIEON AND HER LOVEES. 
 
 was gallantry carried to its greatest height. 
 But the heart of Hippolyte Clairon was im- 
 pregnable; she listened patiently to the dis- 
 courses of her admirers, but contented herself 
 with " dying for love" on the stage only. 
 
 The day came, however, when her afEections 
 were reaUy captivated, and the fortunate person 
 was a M. du Eouvray, a constant visitor at the 
 house of Madame de Bimorel. Du Rouvray 
 was a nobleman, or nearly so; and his 
 face, his manners and his intelligence, would 
 easily have enabled him to dispense with an 
 authentic coat-of-arms. Madame de Bimorel 
 had a little pleasure boat on the Seine, which 
 enabled her to take her friends to a small island 
 on the river opposite one of her fields, where 
 pleasant luncheon parties were organised during 
 the fine weather. It was one bright summer's 
 day on this little island that the boat drifted away 
 as Du Rouvray sprang from it after his lady-love. 
 They followed it anxiously with their eyes till 
 it lodged nearly out of sight in some reeds 
 at the opposite side of the river, and, whilst 
 vowing eternal affection to each other, wondered 
 how on earth they could possibly get back in 
 time for dinner — or indeed, at all. Fortunately 
 the voice of Rhodilles, an actor at the Rouen 
 
OIiAIRON AND HER LOVERS. 87 
 
 theatre was heard singing along the opposite 
 path. They shouted to him and explained 
 their perilous situation. Rhodilles went for the 
 boat, rowed as quickly as he could against 
 the stream to the island, and holding out his 
 hand to the enchanting actress, said, " Pass in, 
 beautiful Hippolyta." 
 
 Mademoiselle Clairon did not wait to be asked 
 twice, she sprang into the boat, and at the 
 same moment Rhodilles, coolly saluting M. du 
 Rouvray, pushed off the skiff from the side 
 before the latter could jump in ; and in spite 
 of the entreaties of the fair comedienne, he 
 rowed her away whilst the young lover stood 
 aghast, taking a lesson of philosophy. Such 
 extraordinary conduct can only be explained 
 by admitting, as some have done, that Rhodilles 
 was her lover before Du Rouvray. 
 
 But stiU another adorer was languishing 
 beneath the Rouen sky for one encouraging 
 glance Of those bright eyes, which had already 
 become so notorious. This was Gaillard, the 
 poet, who wrote songs for her, and then libelled 
 her. His addresses being rejected rather 
 abruptly, he wrote that infamous little book, 
 devoid of wit or gaiety, without style, and 
 full of falsehoods, entitled " Histoire de Made- 
 
88 CLAIBON AND HER LOVERS. 
 
 moiselle Fr^tillon." It was an odious libel, and 
 a terrible weapon in the hands of those who 
 were jealous of her rising fame as a tragic 
 actress. 
 
 Mademoiselle Clairon proceeded to LOle, 
 and La Noue having left the company 
 to make his dehut at Paris, she joined 
 another troupe that was playing at Ghent, in 
 honour of the King of England and the 
 allies. She turned all heads, and, we are told, 
 was proposed to by the Commander-in-Chief 
 of the English Army, whom she poUtely re- 
 fused, saying that she belonged to her own 
 country and to the theatre. He would not 
 consent to her departure, however, hoping that 
 in the course of a short time she would change 
 her mind. In the meantime, the lady, in order 
 to escape, caused herself to be carried off by 
 one of the General's aides-de-camp. 
 
 She ahghted from her post-chaise at Dunkirk, 
 where she had not been long, before she received 
 an order from headquarters to make her dehut 
 at the Paris Opera. There she made her first 
 appearance as Venus in the opera of " Hesione," 
 and, though an indifferent musician, was, much 
 applauded on account of her beauty. However, 
 she left immediately for the Comedie Fran9aise. 
 
CLAIEON AND HER LOVBES. 89 
 
 On signing her engagement, she astonished those 
 who did not know her by declaring that she 
 would only play great tragic roles; it being 
 imagined that light comedy was more suited 
 to her, until she achieved success in Racine's 
 " !^hedre." In fact, whilst all the Parisian con- 
 noisseurs were prepared to laugh at her, she 
 had no sooner appeared than her exquisite ren- 
 dering of the part roused the whole house into 
 a frenzy of enthusiasm. 
 
 At this time the company at the Comedie 
 Frangaise was very badly paid ; aU the artistes 
 were poor, and often sold their dresses and 
 jewellery, when they had any, to satisfy their love 
 of pleasure. One day the Cardinal de Eichelieu 
 called upon Mademoiselle Clairon to engage her 
 for one of his fetes. She refused. "Why?" 
 inquired the Cardinal. "I have no dress;" 
 said the actress. Richelieu burst into a coarse 
 laugh. "No!" she continued, "not one dress, 
 our receipts at the theatre are so small, that I 
 have been obliged to sell everything of any 
 value that I possessed." 
 
 All this time she lived in the Rue des Marais. 
 She had rented for £48 the httle house in 
 which Racine lived with his family for forty 
 years, where he composed all his immortal works 
 
90 CLAIEON AND HEE LOVEES. 
 
 and where he died. The celebrated Adrienne 
 Lecouvreur had afterwards Hved and died there 
 also. It was a most appropriate abode for 
 an actress such as Mademoiselle Clairon. Her 
 talent and success reached their zenith about 
 1762, and for many years afterwards her in- 
 fluence upon dramatic art in France must have 
 been very considerable. Marmontel, the poet, 
 wrote verses for her and adored her. 
 
 One evening as they were supping together 
 after the theatre, he appeared sad. 
 
 " What is the matter with you ?" inquired Hip- 
 poly te. " You look melancholy. I hope you 
 are not insulting me by composing a tragedy 
 whilst we are at supper !" 
 
 Alas ! the young poet was not long allowed 
 the possession of that fickle heart. The Bailiff 
 de Fleury supplanted him, and when he said that 
 Hippolyte had broken his heart, she replied, 
 " Never mind — you shall be my poet lover, and 
 he my lover in prose." Marmontel assured her 
 ■ in vain that he could write prose as well as verse, 
 and, in fact, he did write those bitter " M^moires 
 d'un Pere pour servir a I'instruction de ses 
 Enfants." 
 
 Poor Marmontel ! The day after the perfor- 
 mance of " Z^mire et Azor " at the Opera, Mar- 
 
CLAIRON AND HBE LOVEUS. 91 
 
 montel, and Gr^try the composer of th.e music, 
 "were presented to Marie Antoinette in tlie gallery 
 at Fontainebleau as she was going to Mass. She 
 complimented the composer in a marked manner, 
 but did not address a single word to the poet. 
 " Oh ! my friend," said Grretry, as the Queen re- 
 tired, " this will incite me to write some excellent 
 music .... " — " And me, some detestable words," 
 put in the other. 
 
 The next on the list of the adorers of Mademoiselle 
 Clairon was an old fop, the Marquis de Ximenes, 
 •who doted upon all the celebrated actresses of 
 his time. The affection on the lady's part does 
 not appear to have been very deep seated, and 
 as for the Marquis he was very touchy. A 
 single word caused a quarrel, and it was not long 
 before he returned a beautiful crayon drawing, 
 her portrait, to the person who had sat for it. 
 "This pastel drawing," he said, "is Hke human 
 beauty, it fades in the sun — it is some years 
 since the sun rose for the first time on you." 
 But Mademoiselle Clairon could afford to laugh 
 at such insults. Her reputation extended far out 
 of France ; our own Grarrick admired her, and is 
 said to Lave composed four verses in her honour ; 
 and as for her fortune, it must have increased 
 with her success, for, we are told, that between 
 
92 CLAIEON AND HUB LOVERS. 
 
 the acts of a special performance given to the 
 public, she threw handfuls of silver coin into 
 the pit ; at which the people cried " Vive le Roi ! 
 vive Mademoiselle Clairon !" not knowing to 
 which they owed the miraculous coin. The King 
 indeed had ordered the performance, but the 
 silver money was a spontaneous gift from the 
 celebrated actress. 
 
 She was not the least surprised at her enormous 
 success, nor by any means astonished to find her- 
 self in the higher circles of Parisian society. Eich 
 and noble ladies dined or supped at her table, 
 Mesdames de Ohabrillant, d'Aiguillon, de Villeroy, 
 de la Yallifere, de Porcalquier, and she often 
 visited Madame du Deffand, an d Madame GleofErin. * 
 The Eussian Princess GaHtzin, in admiration of 
 Mademoiselle Clairon's talent, made her sit 
 for her portrait to Vanloo, and presented her 
 with it. The King Louis XY. saw the portrait, 
 
 * When Madame dn Deffand died^ the following conversation 
 occurred between two of her friends : — 
 
 " So your old friend Madame du Deffand is dead/' said 
 Madame du B. 
 
 " Ah ! yes^ I am sorry to say she is. Indeed I am much 
 inconvenienced by the circumstance," rejoined the Mare'chale de 
 M., " as I was accustomed to spend one evening a week at her 
 house, and I have now my Wednesdays completely thrown on 
 my hands." 
 
CLAIRON AND HEB LOVEBS. 93 
 
 in the artist's studio, and admired it so much that 
 he ordered it to be expensively framed and 
 engraved. The frame cost no less than £200 ; 
 and the engraving about twice that amount. 
 
 Among the numerous enemies that genius and 
 success manufactured for her, were the two 
 writers. La Harpe and Fr^ron. La Harpe dis- 
 liked her because she preferred Kacine's plays, 
 and would not perform in any of his. Freron 
 hated her, because she preferred Yoltaire to him. 
 This was a matter of taste, and most persons 
 will side with the talented actress. Things 
 came to such a pass, however, that in 1775 
 Freron forgot himself so far as to libel the fair 
 comedienne in a paper which he edited. Upon 
 which she declared, that unless he was punished 
 she would withdraw from, the theatre in spite of 
 the authorities. By some intrigue or other the 
 shameless journalist escaped the punishment he 
 deserved, and poor Mademoiselle Olairon was, on 
 the contrary, ordered to prison, for contempt of 
 court, in refusing the orders of the authorities 
 to continue her performances. 
 
 This was a pretty state of things ! Still not 
 so bad as they appeared. On arriving at the 
 prison Fort-1'Ev^que, she was shown, not into a 
 common cell, but into an elegant apartment 
 
94 CLAIEON AND HBE LOVERS. 
 
 which her friends, Madame de Yilleroy, Madame 
 de Sauvigny and the Duchesse de Duras had fiir- 
 nished with great elegance, not to say magnifi- 
 cence. Here she spent a few days, receiving 
 numerous visitors, and entertaining company at 
 dinner ; at the end of which short interval she ^ 
 obtained from the prison physician, a medical 
 certificate, stating that her health was in danger, 
 and was forthwith set at liberty. 
 
 Nevertheless, after such an indignity, nothing 
 short of a general invitation from the public 
 could induce her to return to the theatre, but the 
 ungrateful public had already begun to idolize 
 two other queens of comedy, Mademoiselle Dubois 
 and Mademoiselle Raucourt, besides Sophie 
 Arnould, and several others somewhat less 
 notable at this time. Seeing that no 
 such invitation was forthcoming, she ordered 
 her carriage, gave out that she was going to 
 consult her doctor, but in reahty drove to 
 her old friend Voltaire for advice and consola- 
 tion. 
 
 After absenting herself as long as possible from 
 the capital, she returned to Paris in the winter — 
 alas ! she found winter everywhere ; in her deserted 
 house, in her unfaithful friends, and in the hearts 
 of her former admirers. It was of no use attempt- 
 
OLAIEON AND HEE LOVERS. 95 
 
 ing to be gay ; it was useless to listen to the flat- 
 tering speeches of M, de Valbelles, or to decorate 
 her carriage with artificial precious stones to 
 rival that of Mademoiselle Gruimard. She felt 
 that youth and glory belonged to her much less 
 than formerly, her brilliant star was fast ap- 
 proaching the dread horizon. Still she acted, 
 occasionally, at the residence of Madame du 
 Deffand, and sometimes on the Terpsichorean 
 stage of Mademoiselle Guimard. But this was 
 not the public she was accustomed to ; great 
 lords, artistes, poets and musicians applauded 
 her, but their applause no longer caused her 
 heart to beat. 
 
 Then came a passion for natural history, she 
 studied the works of Buffon, botanised in the 
 country the whole day long, became absorbed in 
 Nature's mysteries. Flowers had the greatest at- 
 traction for her. Was it not in a field of flowers 
 that, with her dear Du Rouvray, she had passed 
 the happiest moments of her existence ? But she 
 was not entirely forsaken ; Marmontel was often 
 at her side, and De Valbelles worshipped her. 
 The great actor La Rive, formerly her pupil, who 
 became celebrated through her efforts, and who 
 really admired her, wantonly abandoned his 
 guiding star, and appears to have died of grief 
 
96 CLAIEON AND HER LOVEES. 
 
 because he could not get himself elected mayor 
 of the small village to which he had retired. De 
 Valbelles married a lady of title. This was too 
 much. The great actress sold her furniture, her 
 pictures, her herbarium, and her diamonds, and 
 determined to retire to a convent. She actually 
 thought of selling her own fine portrait by 
 Vanloo. An old admirer offered her £1,000 for 
 it. She magnanimously refused the money, and 
 presented him with the portrait. It was the 
 Margraf of Anspach. He took it to Germany, 
 and hung it in his sitting room. The fair 
 prototype soon followed it, accepting the heart 
 and the palace offered to her. Here she resided 
 for seventeen years. 
 
 In the Memoirs which Mademoiselle Clairon 
 published before her death, she says : " The 
 happiness and glory of the Margraf were my 
 sole thoughts, the object of my sole ambition. 
 I did all the good that I could possibly do, 
 and never bestowed a thought upon vengeance 
 or cowardice." 
 
 Whilst Marie Antoinette performed her 
 private theatricals, whilst the horrors of the 
 Great Eevolution a;pproached. Mademoiselle 
 Clairon governed the estates of the Margraf as 
 Madame de Pompadour had formerly governed 
 
CLAIEON AND HEE LOVERS. 97 
 
 France. A quarrel arose one day, and an 
 eternal adieu was pronounced, Hippolyte 
 Clairon returned to Paris to seek another 
 sovereign. It was in 1790 ; there was no 
 king. Broken hearted, and in the utmost 
 despair she sought to enter a convent and 
 to devote the rest of her days to Grod; there 
 was no longer any God. As a last re- 
 source she would realize her money left at 
 Paris on mortgage : there was no money, no 
 mortgage ! The illustrious actress who had 
 ridden in her carriage and four, who had 
 had the whole of Paris at her feet, was 
 plunged into the utmost depths of misery and 
 despair. 
 
 At this time Mademoiselle Clairon was sixty- 
 five years of age. Those elegant fingers that 
 never touched a needle, now learnt to mend 
 the rents in her well-worn dresses; those fair 
 hands made the couch on which each night re- 
 posed her weary and broken figure, and learnt to 
 handle the broom that swept the dust from 
 her solitary and dingy little parlour. 
 
 She bore her misery with pride and fortitude. 
 When a friend happened to call, she never 
 
 said, "I am poor," but "I am philosopher, 
 
 J) * 
 now. 
 
 H 
 
98 CLAIBON AND HBE LOVERS. 
 
 One morning as slie was sweeping out tlie 
 little room, a stranger knocked at tlie door. 
 "Is Mademoiselle Clairon in?" he inquired. 
 " She is not at home," answered the proud actress. 
 " Oh ! perhaps you would be so good," rejoined 
 the other, " as to say that M. du Rouvray has 
 been, and that he wiU call again this evening," 
 The broom dropped from her hands ; " Du Rouv- 
 ray !" she murmured, as he descended the stairs ; 
 " if I only dare tell him .... but he will 
 come again." He did not return, and she 
 thanked Heaven for it. 
 
 A letter written by her, at this period, to one 
 of her old admirers is stiU extant, or was so a 
 few years ago. The writing is bold, and the ex- 
 pressions majestic. The seal on the outside bears 
 her name, interwoven with that of the Marquis 
 de Tourves. 
 
 GrraduaUy in these last days of dejection, in the 
 midst of the bloody Revolution, Hippolyte Clairon 
 managed to draw a few friends around her. She 
 was invited to live in a respectable citizen's house, 
 and had a few more days of delicious simshine 
 before she died. She departed this life in the 
 spring of 1802, together with the other cele- 
 brated actresses, Sophie Arnould and Mademoiselle 
 Dumesnil. 
 
XIV. 
 
 THEATEIOAL SCENES. 
 
 TTTE are in possession of a number of scenes 
 ' * whicli were enacted at the theatres 
 — thougli not precisely upon tlie stage — some 
 of wliicli are yery characteristic of the times. 
 Our readers may have heard portions of the' 
 music of Paisiello's little opera, " Le Eoi Theo- 
 dore ;" probably few, if any, have ever seen that 
 opera performed. For many years it has been a 
 thing of the past, even at Paris, where this com- 
 poser was so highly esteemed, and where he made 
 a name that wiU live for a long time to come. It 
 was during the commencement of the troubles 
 which ended in the great outbreak of the Eevolu- 
 tion, that " Le Roi Theodore " was performed at 
 the little theatre at Versailles — the theatre of the 
 
 H 2 
 
100 THEATRICAL SCENES. 
 
 town, not that of the palace. One evening, dur- 
 ing the said representation, a curious thing oc- 
 curred. In that part of the opera where King 
 Theodore expresses the dire distress and embar- 
 rassment in which he finds himself placed, a 
 powerful voice from the pit exclaimed, " Que 
 n'assemblez-vous les Notables ?" — " Why don't 
 you call up the notables ?" — which direct allusion 
 to the unsatisfactory state of affairs in France 
 brought a roar of laughter that must have caused 
 a sinister echo at head-quarters. 
 
 Another "serio-comic" scene occurred one 
 evening as the audience was leaving the Comddie 
 Frangaise in Paris. That young and beautiful 
 woman, Madame de Simiane, whose noble and 
 tender sentiments fanned the fire of Lafayette's 
 ambition, was at the doors of the theatre waiting 
 for her carriage, when, perceiving a porter, she 
 called to him to tell her servants to approach. 
 This being said loud enough to be heard by some 
 people in the street, one of them shouted out, 
 " There are no more servants — all men are 
 brothers." In a moment the witty beauty re- 
 torted, " Well then, porter, call my brothers, the 
 servants." 
 
 Later on, about 1790, disorders in the theatres 
 were the order of the day, or rather the night. 
 
THEATRICAL SCENES. 
 
 101 
 
 for scarcely an evening passed without a battle 
 of some kind in tlie pit, between the so-called 
 " patriots " and the aristocrats. On one occa- 
 sion, when a performance of " Iphigenie " was 
 given, and it was supposed that the boxes were 
 filled principally by members of the aristocracy, 
 apples were somewhat liberally thrown into them "" 
 by the lower orders. One of these apples hap- 
 pened to fall into the box occupied by the hand- 
 some Duchesse de Biron. Next day she sent it 
 to General Lafayette, with a note to this effect : 
 " Allow me, sir, to present you with the first fruit v 
 of the Revolution that has reached me as yet." 
 
 Even as far on in the Revolution as 1792, 
 royalist sentiments were occasionally expressed in 
 the pit. On the 22nd of February of that year, 
 the unfortunate Princess Elizabeth wrote to 
 Madame de Raigecourt : " The Queen and her 
 children were at the theatre the night before last. 
 There was a tremendous outburst of applause. 
 The Jacobins tried to make a row, but they were 
 beaten. The duet between the two servants in 
 the piece, where they speak of their love for their 
 master and mistress, was redemanded no less than 
 four times." This was like old times, when 
 Marie Antoinette was Madame la Dauphine, and 
 her appearance was always the signal for enthusi- 
 
102 THEATEIOAr, SCENES. 
 
 astic cheering on the part o£ the people. How- 
 ever, when once the fatal year, 1789, had dawned, 
 demonstrations of a very opposite nature were 
 the most common. The Queen was one evening 
 applauded, nevertheless, at the opera, when 
 "Armide" was given. The verse which ends, 
 " Chantons, cel^brons notre Reine," was taken 
 up, and repeated by the entire house. This little 
 circumstance seems to have given poor Marie 
 Antoinette some rays of hope ; before it occurred, 
 she avoided going either to the theatre or the 
 opera, but, encouraged by such a reception, she 
 went soon afterwards to the Italian opera. The 
 actress who happened to be performing at the 
 time, on coming to the words, " Ah, how much I 
 love my mistress !" turned in a very marked man- 
 ner towards the Royal box. In a moment mur- 
 murs were heard to emanate from the pit, and 
 one or more voices ejaculated, " No, no ! no more 
 queens, no more mistresses !" Marie Antoinette 
 rose, and left the house. It was the last time 
 she was present at a theatrical representation. 
 
 The conduct of some of the nobility at this 
 and former times did not improve the state of 
 affairs ; for instance, the scene between the Mar- 
 quis de Chabrillant and the attorney, M. Pernot. 
 The latter, a man of the highest reputation, had 
 
 / 
 
THEATEIOAL SCENES. 103 
 
 engaged a front seat in one of the boxes at tlie 
 Theatre Frangais, and tlie marquis, happening to 
 arrive late, and finding no room in the front, 
 coolly desired M. Pernot to give up his seat. This 
 peremptory and unjust order was, of course, re- 
 sisted, and M. de Chabrillant carried his folly so 
 far as to go and complain to one of the sentinels 
 that he had been robbed by a person in the box 
 he had just quitted, pointing out the attorney as 
 the guilty person. On this, M. Pernot was im- 
 mediately seized, and, in spite of his protesta- 
 tions, carried to the guard-house, where, after 
 undergoing the rudest treatment — characteristic 
 of the French police — his accuser sent word that 
 he might be discharged. 
 
 A law-suit of a vigorous character was at once 
 commenced, and the affair was noised aU over 
 Paris. In vain did the father and friends of M. 
 de Chabrillant offer to the offended lawyer every 
 possible satisfaction; he resolutely refused all 
 compromise, declaring that the honour of French 
 citizens was involved with his own, and that the 
 affair must take its course. It ended in a verdict 
 for M. Pernot, the marquis being compelled to 
 make a formal attestation of his injustice, to pay 
 the costs of the suit, and a certain sum to the 
 poor of the parish of St. Sulpice, whilst bearing 
 
104 THEATBICAL SCENES. 
 
 testimony to the unsullied reputation of the 
 plaintiff. 
 
 The celebrated, actor, Talma, owed his first 
 success to the fact that the public forced the 
 Comedie Fran9aise to perform the tragedy of 
 " Charles IX," by Chenier. Hitherto Talma 
 had only played very indifferent parts. In this 
 he was superb, and moreover backed up by the 
 enthusiasm of the people. After " Charles IX.," 
 they played the " Brutus" of Voltaire, in which 
 Talma represented Proculus, really an insignifi- 
 cant part ; but he, nevertheless, outshone all the 
 other actors. It was the first time that he 
 appeared dressed rigorously according to the an- 
 tique, in a toga and with bare legs. Mademoiselle 
 Contat, who played in the same piece, was scan- 
 dalized at this. But the pit applauded to the 
 skies, not only the actor and the piece, but the 
 innovation in the costume. He was a sans- 
 culotte ! 
 
XV. 
 
 NECKER. 
 
 BESIDES the Royal victims, Louis XVI. and 
 Marie Antoinette, there stand forth in the 
 history of this dreadful period two extremely in- 
 teresting figures, a hero and a heroine of no com- 
 mon order. One of them was Necker, and the 
 other Charlotte Coeday. 
 
 In Necker we have the type of a thoroughly 
 good and clever man, whose worthy character is 
 to be admired amidst the dark, wicked, revolu- 
 tionary rabble, on the one side,, and the shameless 
 impostors of the Court on the other. In Charlotte 
 Corday we have that of a beautiful, intelligent, 
 and courageous girl, who, in order to save her 
 country, threw aw&y her valuable life at that 
 brightest of aU periods, when youth surrounds it 
 with its happiest dreams. She struck down 
 
106 NEOKEB. 
 
 with her own hand the vilest, perhaps, of all the 
 revolutionary characters, extirpating with her 
 knife from the side of the Republic a venomous 
 sore, just as a surgeon's knife would have 
 done to relieve a suffering patient, knowing at 
 the same time that the operation would prove 
 fatal to the operator.. We deplore the death of 
 Andr6 Ch^nier, the yoimg poet ; of Lavoisier, the 
 great scientific chemist ; of the accomplished and 
 energetic Madame Roland, the good-natured, 
 harmless King, and the proud and innocent Marie 
 Antoinette ; but in none of these have we the pic- 
 ture of so deliberate a sacrifice as that made by 
 the enthusiastic and courageous Charlotte Corday. 
 Well, indeed, may she have inspired poets and 
 dramatists ! 
 
 As to Necker, if he had been nothing more 
 than an obscure citizen of Geneva, if he had not 
 passed the most active part of his life amidst the 
 temptations and seductions of Paris, his private 
 character would, even then, have been an object 
 of astonishment and admiration to all who knew 
 him. In England, the genuine worth of this man, 
 the benefits which the example of his career has 
 conferred on others, are very little known, and 
 consequently unappreciated ; our historians make 
 comparatively little mention of him. He is no 
 
NEOKEE. 107 
 
 more understood by many of our modern poli- 
 ticians than he was by those place-hunters and 
 deluded ministers who surrounded him in France. 
 Louis XYI. himself appears to have duly appreci- 
 ated his valuable services ; but then Louis XVI. 
 was not his own master, and could not make use 
 of him as he might have done. Morality, which 
 was the sole guide of Necker's conduct, could ill 
 cope with the immorality so prominent among 
 both the friends and enemies of the Court. 
 
 Necker arrived in Paris when he was fifteen 
 years of age, with very moderate means at his 
 disposal. His parents were anxious that he 
 should improve his position by commercial pur- 
 suits. From that moment he had to rely upon 
 his own resources, and became the sole guide 
 of his actions. Single-handed, he rose in the 
 world around him to that degree of eminence he 
 so well deserved. His fortune, and that of his 
 whole family, were due to his own unaided exer- 
 tions. It was twenty years from this time before 
 he married, and during the whole of that long 
 interval he laboured incessantly. So absorbed 
 was he in his work, and so habituated had he 
 become to it, that during those twenty years he 
 did not enjoy any one of the ordinary pleasures of 
 life. It was this unremitting labour, connected 
 
108 NECKEE. 
 
 with banking and dealing in corn, that fitted him 
 so well for the responsible posts he .afterwards 
 filled in the Government. 
 
 With all this energy and perseverance, Necker 
 was a timid man, anxious to do always that which 
 was right, and never certain that he had succeeded 
 in doing so. Had he not quitted business so 
 early in life, he might have made a very large 
 fortune, could he have brought himself to believe 
 that great wealth would bring him happiness. 
 In doubtful matters he invariably decided against 
 himself, rather than risk the chance of doing 
 wrong to another. His modesty amounted to 
 bashfulness in his more youthful years. 
 
 When about thirty-five years of age, Necker 
 married Mademoiselle Curchod, the first love of 
 Gibbon the historian, a lady of good education and 
 amiable manners, whose family had been ruined by 
 the revocation of the Edict of Nantes ; and until 
 the day of her death he was the most devoted of 
 husbands. It was very shortly after this marriage 
 that he was selected Genevese Minister at Paris, 
 and refused to receive any emoluments from his 
 country for his services. Later, when he was 
 Minister of State, he was accused of pride, because 
 he was the first member of the French Govern- 
 ment who had ever refused the high salaries at- 
 
NECKEU. 109 
 
 tacted to sucli a positicto. Necker went beyond 
 this ; lie actually spent a portion of his own capi- 
 tal to defray the great expenses of his post. It 
 was not pride that caused him to resolve on this 
 line of conduct, but the wretched state of French 
 finances. This obliged him, as Minister, to re- 
 duce the salaries of those below him, and he had 
 not the heart to do so whilst receiving his own. 
 He had, indeed, more str.ength wherewith to re- 
 form abuses of this kind, when he could point to 
 his own personal sacrifices. 
 
 As soon as he had entered upon public life, 
 he made over all his private fortune to hia wife, 
 so that she might have the sole management of 
 his domestic affairs, which she undertook with 
 rare talent and circumspection. 
 
 Necker's biography of " Colbe;rt," and his 
 treatise on the " Legislation and Commerce of 
 Wheat" had stamped him as a man of talent. 
 In spite of his being a Swiss and a Protestant, 
 his genial and upright manners had surrounded 
 him with friends, and he was soon admitted to 
 the King's Council. His writings excited the 
 admiration of Maurepas, who, in 1777, made 
 him Director of the Eoyal Treasury, at a time 
 when the finances of France already required 
 a man of genius at the head of this department. 
 
110 NECEEE. 
 
 It has been said that Necker did not know 
 the human heart, as he always imagined that he 
 could lead men by moral reasons. But his 
 writings, even those little comedies and light 
 pieces that he composed in his youth, supply a 
 permanent denial to this trivial accusation. 
 Whilst only filling the ofl&ce of Genevese Minister, 
 he inspired M. de Choiseul, then the most 
 powerful member of the French Government, 
 with such affection for him, that he would not 
 hear of Geneva sending any one in his place. 
 Once it was thought desirable to do so, but 
 Choiseul wrote to Necker : " Tell your Genevese 
 people that their Envoye Extraordinaire, of whom 
 they speak, shall not put his foot into my house, 
 and that I will deal with none but you." Necker 
 used to look upon this as his first political success. 
 
 It was during the interval when Maurepas 
 was unwell and unable to attend to business, 
 that Keeker, for the first time, worked alone 
 with the King, and persuaded His Majesty to 
 nominate a M. de Castries, a good and able man, 
 to the Ministry of Marine. This nomination 
 showed the credit he had already gained with 
 the King, and became the principal cause of 
 Maurepas' jealousy, which was not long in 
 making itself felt. The Queen also, before party 
 
NKCEEE. Ill 
 
 politics had envenomed everything, was fre- 
 quently seen in ardent conversation with Neckerj 
 and set a high value upon his advice. 
 
 When Mirabeau was anxious to become a 
 colleague of Necker's in the Ministry, the latter 
 told him in a most straightforward manner that 
 they could never work together, the strength of 
 the one being based entirely upon morality, and 
 that of the other upon politics only. Mirabeau 
 seems to have been quite satisfied, and by no 
 means offended at this honourable declaration, 
 at least, not at that time. 
 
 However, the rigid economy that he found 
 himself obliged to insist on, brought down upon 
 Necker a number of libels, which emanated from 
 Maurepas, Mirabeau, and other dissatisfied 
 courtiers. On the other hand, the publicity 
 which he gave to the real state of finance, his 
 suppression of taxes which weighed heavily upon 
 the poorer classes, and several other great and 
 good actions, caused nothing but admiration on 
 the part of the French people. He was, indeed, 
 the idol of the people, in spite of the vicious 
 things circulated to his detriment. Nevertheless, 
 matters arrived at such a pitch that Necker 
 suddenly sent in his resignation. He afterwards 
 regretted this step immensely, when thinking of 
 
112 NECKEE. 
 
 tte good he miglit still have done had he paid 
 no attention to these calumnies and continued to 
 fiU his post in spite of them. 
 
 It was at this period that the Empress Catherine 
 of Russia wrote to Baron Grimm the following 
 words, which show how Necker was appreciated 
 abroad : — 
 
 " St. Petersburg, 10/21st of July, 1781. 
 
 " So Necker has lost his place ! This is a fine 
 dream for France to have had ; and a great vic- 
 tory for her enemies ! The character of so rare 
 a man may be admired in both his works, for 
 the Memoire is quite equal to the Gompte-rendu. 
 The King of France has had a glorious fellow 
 near him. Now, he will not have the chance 
 again so soon ! Necker should have had a man 
 of genius to follow in his great strides." 
 
 In 1787 M. de Calonne called together the 
 notablps and, in his opening discourse attacked 
 the Gompte-rendu of ISTecker. The latter felt 
 bound to reply to this public accusation, and in 
 spite of the King's wishes that he should remain 
 silent, (Louis XVI. knowing well that Necker 
 was in the right,) he pubhshed his refutation, 
 and, in consequence, the King felt bound to 
 
NEOKEE. 113 
 
 banish him to a distance of forty leagues from 
 Paris by a lettre de cachet. However, His Ma- 
 jesty put a term to this exile in four months, and 
 shortly afterwards, on the 25th August, 1788, 
 Necker was recalled to the Ministry. He had 
 then just pubUshed his remarkable work " On 
 the Importance of Eeligious Opinions," a most 
 appropriate book for the times, and the best 
 of the kind that appeared at this eventful 
 period. 
 
 The second Ministry of Necker lasted from 
 that date to the 11th July, 1789. No person 
 who reads his works or studies his life can be 
 persuaded that he ever dreamt of bringing on a 
 revolution, as his enemies have suggested. So 
 far was this from his ideas, that he always be- 
 lieved the best social state for a large and power- 
 ful country to be a limited monarchy, such as we 
 have in England ; this thought predominates in 
 all his writings ; and who can doubt the respect 
 he entertained for the King after his conduct on 
 the day just named ? 
 
 On the 11th July, 1789, as Necker was about 
 to sit down to dinner, with a number of friends, 
 the Minister of Marine asked to see him, took 
 him aside, and gave him a letter from the King, 
 ordering him to resign, and to leave Paris 
 
114 NEOKER. 
 
 at once, "as quietly as possible" (sans bruit). 
 Great stress was thrown upon tlie words sans 
 bruit. Doubtless, if the people heard of his dis- 
 missal, there would have been an uproar, and he 
 would have been forcibly detained in Paris. In 
 spite of his enormous popularity at this time, he 
 resolved at once to obey the King's orders. His 
 own family were not even admitted into the secret. 
 His wife alone, though suffering from indispo- 
 sition, accompanied him, without any servant. 
 They quitted Paris that very evening in their own 
 carriage, and went straight to Brussels, where 
 the remainder of the family joined them three 
 days afterwards, and found them in the dresses 
 — not a httle soiled by dust — in which they had 
 received their friends at dinner immediately be- 
 fore leaving. During the whole of that memor- 
 able dinner not one of the numerous guests 
 had the slightest notion of what was about to 
 happen, so perfectly did Necker control his 
 feelings. 
 
 He travelled under a feigned name, and did not 
 even take a passport, for fear of betraying the 
 secret of his departure and the King's wishes. 
 At Valenciennes, the governor of the place re- 
 fused to let him proceed. Necker showed him 
 the King's letter, and he was, moreover, recog- 
 
NECKEB. 115 
 
 nized by an engraving (his portrait) whicli hung 
 in the office of the custom-house. 
 
 Brussels was chosen instead of Switzerland, 
 as the Belgian- frontier was easier reached. He 
 then prepared to start for Switzerland, through 
 Grermany. Whiilst doing so, he suddenly remem- 
 bered that, a short time previously, the bankers, 
 Messrs. Hope, of Amsterdam, had requested him 
 to guarantee them 'personally with regard to a 
 supply of corn, valued at two millions of francs, 
 to be delivered in France. Necker had deposited 
 this money, from his own private resources, in 
 the Royal Treasury, and he gave the guarantee, 
 for Paris was already more or less famished. 
 Thinking that Messrs. Hope might cease their 
 suppHes, if they heard of his resignation, he wrote 
 to them from Brussels, to the effect that he still 
 abided by the agreement. One of the first things 
 that his ephemeral successor had on haud was a 
 letter from these bankers, saying that they ac- 
 cepted Necker's personal guarantee ! It is hard 
 to imagine what he thought of a man who not 
 only received no salary, but risked (and eventually 
 lost) the greater part of his fortune to save Paris 
 from starvation — and that man not a Frenchman ! 
 
 Necker left Brussels with his son-in-law, M. de 
 Stael, en route for Basle ; his wife and daughter 
 
 I 2 
 
1] 6 NBCKER. 
 
 were to follow more leisurely. These ladies, on 
 arriving at Frankfort, met a special messenger 
 from Paris, bearing letters from the King, calling 
 Necker for the third time to the Ministry. 
 " What a moment of happiness," says Madame 
 de Stael, " was this journey from Basle to Paris. 
 . . . . Nothing like it ever happened to any 
 man who was not the Sovereign of the country 
 through which he passed." Acclamations and 
 vivas accompanied him everywhere, and, on arriv- 
 ing at Paris, the enthusiasm of the crowd was so 
 great, that the distinguished General Junot was 
 seriously hurt in endeavouring to maintain order. 
 
 A year of scarcity, such as had not been ex- 
 perienced in France for more than a century, 
 added to the political catastrophes of 1789-90. 
 It was during this dreadful period that Necker, 
 by his indefatigable' and unostentatious efforts, 
 saved Paris and several provincial towns from 
 absolute famine. His exertions, day and night, 
 in getting grain from every available source were 
 so incessant, that he contracted a severe illness, 
 a long and dangerous bilious attack, which con- 
 tributed to shorten the days of his valuable life. 
 
 During the fifteen months that his last ministry 
 existed, he exerted himself constantly in favour 
 of the Executive, both in the Assembly and out 
 
NEOKEB. 117 
 
 of it, whilst Mirabeau and others did all they 
 could to render his name unpopular. In spite 
 of this, his popularity still enabled him to save 
 several lives that were menaced, and to continue 
 his good works in various directions. At last, 
 calumny of all kinds caused him to lose favour, 
 both at Court and with the people. In 1790, he 
 found his fondest hopes rapidly fading, and his 
 excellent projects falling to the ground. More- 
 over, his house was threatened by the mob, and 
 his wife felt that their lives were in danger. So, 
 as he could no longer be of any use whatever, 
 Necker quitted Paris. He left behind him a 
 " Memoire sur les Assignats," in which he foretold 
 the ruin which awaited the creditors of the State ; 
 and yet he left his own two millions of francs in 
 the Treasury. He retired to his quiet home at 
 Coppet, near Geneva, where, for the remaining 
 fourteen years of his life, he devoted himself 
 solely to family affairs and the composition of his 
 works ; among others, to his excellent " Oours de 
 Morale Rdigieuse." 
 
 One last trait in his admirable character de- 
 serves to be repeated here. He had let one of 
 his houses near Coppet to a poor family at a very 
 low rent. After they left, there came to him, 
 during his retirement, a rich lady, who requested 
 
118 
 
 NECKEE, 
 
 him to let her have the house at a still lower rent. 
 He resisted at first, but finally succumbed to the 
 lady's entreaties. He then considered it his duty 
 to hand over to the poor family the difference 
 of rent, which, extending over several years, 
 amounted to a good round sum, representing 
 what they had apparently paid over and above 
 the rent he should have received, as compared 
 with that paid by the rich lady. 
 
 By the Kevolution in Switzerland, and the loss 
 of his two millions of francs in France, Necker 
 was deprived of three-fourths of his income; 
 yet, imtil his death, no one knew how he was cir- 
 cumstanced, and people judged from his gifts 
 that he must be very wealthy. His wiU began 
 with the following words : " I thank the Supreme 
 Being for the destiny he has allotted to me on this 
 earth, and I hand over, in all confidence, my 
 future destiny to His goodness and pity." 
 
 In one of his notes, written at Coppet, he says : 
 " Seventy is an agreeable age for writing ; you 
 have not yet lost all your strength ; envy begins 
 to let you alone, and you hear beforehand the 
 sweet voice of posterity." 
 
XVI. 
 
 A PEIEST OF THE PEEIOD. 
 
 TAOQUES Anastase G-rivet de Fongeray 
 " was born at the Chateau de Fon- 
 geray, in Franohe-Comte. His father was 
 formerly a captain in an infantry regiment of 
 Burgundy, and had got, as a reward for his 
 numerous campaigns, a constitution crippled by 
 chronic rheumatism, the Cross of St. Louis, and 
 a most undesirable state of confusion in his family 
 affairs. Perfectly convinced, after a long and 
 painful experience, that a military career does not 
 conduct everyone to fame and fortune, he was 
 determined that his young son, Anastase, should 
 become an ecclesiastic, and, for this purpose, he 
 sent him, at an early age, to the high school of 
 Dijon. 
 
120 A PEIBST OP THE PERIOD. 
 
 There, under tlie direct tuition of the learned 
 and respectable Abb^ de Bouillat, the youthful 
 Anastase de Fongeray made rapid progess in his 
 studies, became distinguished for his exemplary 
 conduct and certain precocious talents, which en- 
 abled him, when barely twenty years of age, to 
 carry off a third prize in a school competition for 
 the best Greek verses. This astonishing success 
 brought him under the notice of the bishop, who 
 decided to befriend him. A bursary being then 
 vacant in the little seminary of the town, the 
 bishop gave it to him, and he soon became very 
 learned in theology. 
 
 "When twenty-five years old, he took holy 
 orders the day before Christmas, and preached in 
 the cathedral to the great satisfaction of all the 
 faithful. He took for his text The happiness of the 
 Chosen People, and, they say, caused his congrega- 
 tion to participate in it. His elocution was facile 
 and animated; his periods, sonorous and round; his 
 imagination, rich and brilliant. These qualities, 
 however, were the least meritorious points in his 
 sermons. That which took his audience by storm, 
 and gained the entire approval of the connoisseurs> 
 was his splendid description of Paradise. This 
 was given in such detail, so topographical — if 
 we may use the expression — that the preacher 
 
A PEIEST OP THE PERIOD. 121 
 
 seemed to have just returned from tlie place lie 
 pictured so vividly. Nothing could equal the 
 enthusiasm raised by this sermon ; the news- 
 papers of the day asserted that his delicious de- 
 scription of celestial happiness converted the 
 most hardened sinners, upon whom many ex- 
 tremely frightful descriptions of the infernal 
 regions had not had the slightest effect. 
 
 It is needless to add that the Abb^ de Pongeray 
 soon rose into high estimation at Dijon, and that 
 he was the chosen confessor of all the ladies of 
 distinction and parliamentary counsellors of the 
 district, for many miles round. However, he 
 was ambitious of figuring upon a larger stage, 
 and, as soon as his gigantic reputation had begun 
 to spread abroad, he left for Versailles. 
 
 In those days " Society verses " were in high 
 repute at Court — little poems, witty or pathetic, 
 as the case might be, particularly adapted to some 
 conspicuous passing event or notorious personage. 
 A young gentleman, named Monsieur Arouet, 
 more generally known now under that of Yol- 
 taire, had made himself quite a reputation by 
 this ephemeral kind of poetic production. On 
 arriving at Versailles, the youthful priest, De 
 Pongeray, conceived the idea of throwing over 
 this idol of fashion, and reigning in his stead. It 
 
122 A PRIEST OF THE PERIOD. 
 
 was a bold project, no doubt, but somewhat jus- 
 tified by the success which followed it. 
 
 He made his d^but in this style of literature by 
 an epistle to the beauteous Countess du Barri, 
 which was full of art and poetry, and might 
 serve as a classic model of delicate flattery. 
 This little poem pleased the favourite of Louis 
 XY. so much that, in order to recompense the 
 author of it, she procured him a pension of 
 £60 a year, out of the funds devoted to invahd 
 sailors. Those were fine days for literary men, 
 when a single short poem in honour of a mo- 
 narch's mistress would keep a writer from starving 
 for the rest of his days ; even at the expense of 
 invalid mariners ! 
 
 The Abb^ de Fongeray, after the death 
 of Louis XY., published against this same 
 Countess du Barri a satirical poem of the 
 most audacious nature. He might, indeed, 
 by this style of production, have made 
 himself feared ; he preferred to make himself 
 beloved. Epigrammatic efforts went against his 
 feelings, his pen was happier in the expression 
 of tender and melancholy sentiments. As he 
 was a guest at the tables of all the great lords, 
 and the very soul of small supper-parties, his 
 singing never tarried, and many appropriate 
 
A PRIEST OF THE PEEIOD. 123 
 
 verses were composed for these occasions. End- 
 less were tlie poems " to Zelmire," " to Zulm^," 
 and even " to Zetulb^." In 1788 Ms exertions 
 culminated in " The Muses' Almanack," in which, 
 he inserted an anacreontic acrostic on H^loise 
 and Abelard, and, the year afterwards, at the 
 outbreak of the great Revolution, a translation 
 in verse of the Ode of Horace " Solvihtr acris 
 hiems". . . . 
 
 Such work as this, achieved in so short a 
 time, could not pass unnoticed, and it was 
 openly asserted at Versailles that the very first 
 bishopric which became vacant would be given 
 to Monsieur de Fongeray. 
 
 Just at this moment the dreadful Revolution 
 broke out. At first the Abbe de Fongeray sided 
 with the Court, and he was meditating a very 
 caustic epigram against the revolutionary 
 innovators, when he found that the majority of 
 the clergy had gone over to the Tiers Etat ! So, 
 instead of his epigram, he published a poem 
 on the " Oath of the Racket Court," [Le Ser- 
 ment du Jeu-de-Paume.) The day of the Federa- 
 tion he said mass to the Bishop of Autun, after- 
 wards Prince de Talleyrand, Grand Chamberlain, 
 and Peer of France. 
 
 Soon the Revolution, like a great devastating 
 
124 A PEIEST OF THE PEBIOD. 
 
 torrent, overturned everything that had any kind 
 of superiority attached to it. The great families 
 had already begun to emigrate; but the Abbe 
 de Eongeray had no idea of going to seek his 
 fortune at Coblentz ; so he withdrew to a pretty 
 little country house in the neighbourhood of 
 Paris, and changed his name to Grivet, a plebeian 
 denomination that would attract no attention 
 from any quarter. Here, whilst unheard of 
 atrocities were carried on in Paris, he cultivated 
 Bengal roses and double tulips, like a perfect 
 philosopher. As he was a friend of peace, he 
 took the civic oath in a moment, for the sake 
 of quiet ; and later on, when they murdered and 
 hung priests whether they had taken the oath 
 or not, he got married — for the sake of peace ! 
 
 Many persons would accuse him of apostasy, 
 but he could hardly be looked upon as a married 
 priest. He was a priest, it is true, and he got 
 married, that is certain; but, by what other 
 means could he have escaped from the clutches 
 of the barbarians ? 
 
 He married the daughter of the magistrate of 
 his parish. She was a young and beautiful girl, 
 distinguished no less by her graceful attractions 
 than by her goodness of heart. But alas ! death 
 soon broke this pleasant dream of happiness. At 
 
A PRIEST OF THE PEEIOD. 125 
 
 the FSte de I'Etre Supreme, it was this young 
 woman, "laCitoyenne Grivet," who was chosen 
 to represent the Goddess of Reason. Being 
 dressed in the lightest attire possible, she caught 
 a violent cold and died. 
 
 Grivet remained sad and solitary, composing, 
 amidst tears and despair, an appropriate epitaph 
 to his wife. He was still occupied with this 
 when Buonaparte re-established, on their former 
 basis', religion and monarchy. Once more a 
 priest, De Fongeray got appointed chaplain to 
 one of the Imperial Princesses. He fulfilled his 
 functions with zeal and fidelity ; but without 
 ever forgetting (and perhaps regretting) the 
 legitimate branch. Great, indeed, was his joy 
 when the latter returned. Grivet, or rather, 
 De Fongeray, actually went to meet the Comte 
 d'Artois on his arrival at Paris. On this occa- 
 sion he was bold enough to walk along the 
 boulevards with a white cockade in his hat. All 
 was peace and happiness — but what a fragile 
 peace ! The triumphal return of Buonaparte 
 struck De Fongeray so forcibly that he could not 
 help being astonished and admiring the glorious 
 " destiny" of the usurper. He bent his knee 
 before the " man of destiny," and said mass on 
 the Champ de Mars the day of the Ghamp de Mai. 
 
126 A PRIEST OP THE PEEIOP. 
 
 The bloody struggle at Waterloo convinced 
 tim that it was no use counting any longer on 
 Buonaparte ; lie disguised himself as a National 
 Guard and rushed to meet the King at St. Denis. 
 Satisfied that he had helped to replace Louis 
 XVIII. firmly upon the throne of his ancestors, 
 De Tongeray retired to St. Acheuil, where he 
 passed the rest of his days as a professor of the 
 Greek language, and in the education of young 
 Jesuits, and where he died suddenly of apoplexy 
 on the 17th of April, 1824, at eleven minutes past 
 three o'clock in the morning. 
 
 Such was the life and career of a time- 
 server and priest of the period, who may 
 be said to have " dodged" the Revolution. 
 Then there were the priests who did not 
 take the oath, and were massacred, and those 
 who did take the oath and were massacred 
 all the same. The slaughter of those innocent 
 and, for the most part, good men, ranks among 
 the many horrors of the Revolution. A French- 
 man writing in 1863, congratulates himself upon 
 the Reign of Terror being a thing of the past. 
 " It is a consolation," he says, " to think that 
 every party condemns it, and though it is not so 
 far back as regards the actual date, yet our 
 ideas, our manners, and our politics, give us 
 
A PRIEST OP THE PERIOD. 127 
 
 the assurance that it is past for ever, and already 
 a matter of ancient history." Only to think, 
 after reading these lines, of what has happened 
 in 1870-71 ! Who can doubt that the horrors 
 of 1789-93, might then have heen repeated 
 if circumstances had favoured the mob ? 
 
 Then there -were the priests who emigrated ; a 
 goodly number came to England, and supported 
 themselves by writing, drawing, giving lessons 
 in French, &c. Such a one was the Abb^ Macquin, 
 who died here on the 17th July 1823. He sought 
 refuge from the horrors of 1792, and arrived 
 penniless at Hastings, applied himself vigorously 
 to the study of English, supported himself by 
 his pencil sketches of the scenery around Hast- 
 ings, got introduced to Norroy, King-at-Arms, 
 who gave him remunerative employment in 
 heraldic designs, edited various literary pro- 
 ductions, and published his Latin poem " Tabella 
 Cibaria, or the Bill of Fare," led a peaceful re- 
 tired life and died in England, respected by all 
 who knew him. 
 
XYII. 
 
 THE WOMAN WITHOUT A NAME. 
 
 A MOST extraordinary civil action was brought 
 -^ by a lady of good birtb and position before 
 one of tbe Frencli law courts, in the midst of the 
 Revolution. The facts elicited by this suit em- 
 brace the whole period occupied by the reign of 
 Louis XVI., and bring to light some occurrences 
 and a judgment so marvellous, that, if every 
 fact could not be vouched for historically, few 
 people would be inclined to believe them. 
 
 On the 7th October, 1741, about nine leagues 
 from Auxerre, was born a little girl who was 
 christened Adelaide de Champignelles. We know 
 little of her early life, except that she received 
 her education in a convent, as so many French 
 girls of good family do even now, and that on 
 the 30th August, 1764, she left the convent to 
 
THE WOMAN WITHOUT A NAME. 129 
 
 marry a wealthy nobleman, the Marquis de 
 Douliault. 
 
 At the time of her marriage she was therefore 
 twenty-three years of age, and had seen , abso- 
 lutely nothing of the world, nor did she know 
 her husband to any extent before she became the 
 Marquise de Douhault. It was a manage de 
 convenance ; love had nothing to do with it, but 
 the young lady possessed a kind heart and an 
 intelligent head, and hoped that she would be 
 ablQ to love the man whose existence was hence- 
 forward to be joined to hers. Very shortly after 
 the marriage the bride discovered that the bride- 
 groom was afflicted with epilepsy. This was an 
 awful blow; hours of tenderness were replaced 
 by appalling scenes, and instead of a bride she 
 became a nurse. Her good disposition soon en- 
 abled the young Marchioness to overcome this 
 dreadful shock; she accepted her sorrowful lot 
 without complaint, and continued day by day to 
 devote the greatest attention to her invalid hus- 
 band. This courageous conduct was persevered 
 in till the year 1766, when they had been married 
 about twelve months. At this period the hus- 
 band's malady suddenly degenerated into furious 
 insanity; his excitement and violence rendered 
 it dangerous to wait upon him. His kind- 
 
130 
 
 THE "WOMAN WITHOUT A NAME. 
 
 hearted wife still did all in her power to soothe 
 him; but one day, whilst endeavouring to 
 prevent his cruel treatment of a man servant, 
 she received a sword wound in the breast. This 
 state of things could not be borne any longer, so 
 after due consultation between the two families 
 it was finally decided, in April, 1766, that the 
 Marquis de Douhault should be despatched to 
 the asylum at Oharenton, near Paris, where he 
 lived for twenty-one years in a perfect state of 
 insanity, and where he died in March, 1787. 
 During this long interval the unfortunate wife 
 continued to reside at the Chateau de Chazelet, 
 a property belonging to the Marquis, and led an 
 exemplary and benevolent hfe. 
 
 Madame de Douhault's father had died three 
 years previously, but she still had a mother and 
 a brother. Monsieur de Champignelles, who had 
 already distinguished himself by his bad conduct 
 towards his father, whom he had actually turned 
 out of a house which he inhabited, by substituting 
 his own name for his father's in the renewal of 
 the lease. The father's death gave occasion for 
 the settlement of the mother's claims, which en- 
 titled her to a life-interest in all her husband's 
 property, on the condition of paying to her son 
 an income of 4,000 francs a year, and to her 
 
THE WOMAN WITHOUT A NAME. 131 
 
 daughter, the MarcWouess de Douhaultj the sum 
 of 40,000 francs, the half of her dowry, which 
 had never been paid. 
 
 It so happened, however, that the vicious son 
 contrived to terrify the mother into accepting an 
 allowance from him of about 11,000 francs a year, 
 he taking possession of all the estates. Madame 
 de Douhault, his sister, being in easy circum- 
 stances, and without children, made no great re- 
 sistance to this rascally proceeding, so that he 
 thus got into his own hands the whole of the 
 paternal inheritance, to the half of which his 
 sister had an equal right, besides her claim of 
 40,000 francs now, and as much more at her 
 mother's death. 
 
 But the poor mother's income was badly paid ; 
 more than once she was actually compelled to raise 
 money by causing one of her servants to pledge 
 jewellery for her, and she could get no redress 
 from her wicked son. Matters soon became so 
 bad that the unfortunate woman was obliged to 
 entreat her daughter to join her in instituting 
 legal proceedings, in order to recover their 
 rights. 
 
 After endeavouring, in all manner of ways, to 
 persuade her wretched brother to make some 
 sort of compromise, but in vain, the Marchioness 
 
 K 2 
 
132 TUB WOMAN WITHOUT A KAME. 
 
 wrote to her mother that she would arrive in 
 Paris early in 1788, and consult with her upon 
 the best steps to be taken. 
 
 De Champignelles was thus threatened either 
 with having to restore to his mother the life en- 
 joyment of the property, or with having to share 
 it with his sister. In either case, his sister was 
 an inconvenience. Nevertheless, he actually 
 accepted the consultation with his mother and 
 sister, and seemed anxious to see the matter 
 fairly argued out. 
 
 Towards the end of December, 1787, the Mar- 
 chioness de Douhault set out on her journey to 
 Paris ; not without many misgivings and in an 
 anxious state of mind. On travelling to the 
 capital it was her habit to break the journey at 
 Orleans, and to sleep at the house of a M. du 
 Liide, her great-nephew on her husband's side, 
 and consequently one of the parties who would 
 come in for a share of her husband's property 
 after her death. That gentleman happened then 
 to be at Argenton, on the way to Orleans, and 
 she wrote to ask him to accompany her there. 
 He made some frivolous excuse, and she was in- 
 formed on her arrival at Argenton that he had 
 started for Orleans the moment he received her 
 letter. At Argenton, Madame de Douhault, sent 
 
THE WOMAN WITHOUT A NAME. 133 
 
 back her own coachman, and went on with post 
 horses. On reaching Orleans she drove at once to 
 M. du Lude's house as usual ; but he again made 
 some paltry excuse, begged her to proceed to the 
 house of a friend, a M. de la Eonciere, where a 
 room had been prepared' for her, and to send her 
 servant elsewhere to give less trouble to the 
 family. 
 
 If a lady who had gone through so many trials 
 could be astonished at anything, she must have 
 been so at this reception ; but, having no alterna- 
 tive, she acted as she was told, proceeded to the 
 house in question, where she found a room pre- 
 pared for her on the ground floor, looking into a 
 courtyard. 
 
 Here, say her brother and his partisans in the 
 famous law suit, she fell ill and died on the 18th 
 of January, 1788, and was buried on the 21st of 
 that month. 
 
 sh alf- sfc. >fa. ^fc a[^ 
 
 On Saturday morning the 17th of October, 
 1791, a lady dressed in black presented herself at 
 the gate of the Chateau de Champignelles, the 
 brother's residence. On demanding admission, 
 the porter informed her that he was instructed 
 not to allow anyone to enter without a written 
 order from M. de Champignelles. 
 
134 THE WOMAN WITHOUT A NAME. 
 
 " But you know me Saint-Loup," said the 
 lady, raising her veil ; " I am the Marquise de 
 Douhault, your master's sister." 
 
 "Madame la Marquise died some time ago," 
 replied the man, " you had better retire or I shall 
 treat you as an impostor." 
 
 The lady turned away, and slept that night in 
 the inn at the Httle 'village of Champignelles. 
 Next morning she attended mass at the Church 
 where she was observed by many of the congre- 
 gation to kneel before a tomb inscribed with the 
 name of Eogres de Champignelles (her father), 
 and prayed while weeping. The persons present 
 watched her with the utmost astonishment, and 
 several exclaimed, " What a striking likeness to 
 the late Madame de Douhault !" For, in that 
 very church, not so long before, a funeral service 
 had been celebrated for the repose of her soul. 
 At last, however, she was so thoroughly recog- 
 nised that several persons spoke to her. " Yes, 
 my friends," she said, " I am indeed the 
 Marquise de Douhault ; my childhood was passed 
 in this domain, where I am now refused admit- 
 tance !" When this became known throughout 
 the village, there was great rejoicing and con- 
 gratulations ; ninety-six inhabitants of the place 
 testified to her identity, and her brother was 
 
THE WOMAN WITHOUT A NAME. 
 
 135 
 
 summoned before the " Bureau de Conciliation," 
 for detaining her goods under an illegal title. 
 This summons, having had no effect the lady 
 transferred her suit to the " Tribunal de Saint 
 Fargeau," with the view of reinstating herself in 
 all her rights, titles and goods, and to recover 
 500,000 francs as damages. 
 
 The fact of her being alive instead of being 
 dead and buried at Orleans was explained as fol- 
 lows : — 
 
 On the 15th of January, 1788, she prepared to 
 leave Orleans for Paris. That day Madame de 
 la Eoncifere invited her to take a farewell drive 
 along the river Loire, two other ladies accom- 
 panied them. During the drive Madame de la 
 Eonoiere offered the Marquise de Douhault a 
 pinch of snufE; immediately after taking which 
 she was seized with so violent a headache that 
 she begged to be driven back to the house at 
 once. They gave her a foot bath, and she then 
 
 fell into a profound sleep A wide blank 
 
 here occurs in the lady's account of herself. All 
 she knew was that she awoke in the Salp^triere 
 at Paris, a hospital for female lunatics. By an 
 effort of memory, she recalled vaguely that after 
 the long sleep at Orleans she had a lucid interval 
 during which Madame de la Eonci^re urged her 
 
136 THE WOMAN WITHOUT A NAME. 
 
 to set off for Paris that very evening. She had 
 a confused remembrance of taking some broth 
 from that lady's hands, of going to Paris, where 
 the image of her brother passed before her eyes, 
 of police agents carrying her off in a closed 
 carriage. 
 
 When her reason returned at the hospital, she 
 felt her false position in all its borrible reality ; 
 she protested energetically against ber confine- 
 ment, and told them who she was. They rephed 
 that she was mistaken, that her name was " Anne 
 Buirette. ' ' After seventeen months of this dread- 
 fully painful seclusion, during which time all her 
 letters were intercepted, she succeeded at last in 
 acquainting a powerful friend, no less a personage 
 than the Queen's friend, Madame de Polignac,with 
 the infamous imprisonment practised on her, and 
 that lady procured her release on the 13th of July, 
 1789. The person who set her free conducted 
 her to the bottom of the Jardin des Plantes and 
 left her. Madame de Douhault thus found herself 
 alone in Paris, ignorant of coming events, and 
 Paris on the eve of a frightful revolution. 
 
 She was not aware that her brother had been 
 the cause of her detention, that she was legally 
 dead, that M. de Ohampignelles with Madame de 
 Douhault's other heirs had divided her property. 
 
THK WOMAN WITHOUT A NAME. 137 
 
 She fled to Hm and was refused admittance ; slie 
 applied to an uncle who declared he did not know 
 her ; but nevertheless invited her to dinner, and 
 informed her that her mother was dead. 
 
 Broken down with grief and despair the poor 
 woman went, as a last resource, to Madame de 
 Polignao, at Versailles, there she was recognised 
 by several persons of high rank, among others by 
 the beautiful Princesse de Lamballe. The whole 
 Court were unanimous in believing that the 
 prisoner rescued from the Salp^tri&re was indeed 
 Adelaide de Champignelles. Still with her innate 
 goodness of .heart, Madame de Douhault did not 
 wish to raise a scandal involving the honour of 
 two families, the more so as her friends advised 
 her to confide in the goodness and justice of the 
 King. But very soon Louis XVI. was powerless 
 and the Court dispersed. 
 
 It was in Tebruary, 1790, that she resolved to 
 bring a civil action, but through the treachery of 
 her advocates she was sent for a month to the 
 prison of La Force. There she claimed the as- 
 sistance of Bailly, who was then Mayor of Paris. 
 Bailly knew her and wished to aid her, but he 
 had to reckon with people from whose violence 
 he was unable eventually to rescue his own head. 
 However, she left the prison, and the great trial 
 
138 THT5 WOMAN WITHOUT A NAME. 
 
 duly came on. Every detail of this most in- 
 famous legal proceeding has been chronicled, 
 and is now a matter of history. The principal 
 part of the action commenced in February, 1792. 
 It would be absurd here to attempt to give the 
 details. One hundred and fourteen questions 
 were put to the plaintiff, all of which she 
 answered in the most satisfactory manner, with 
 the exception of one, which concerned the date 
 of her entry into the Salpetriere. But this single 
 lapsus enabled the judge to pronounce against 
 her ! She was accordingly denounced as a vulgar 
 impostor, and although it subsequently appeared 
 that no less than twenty-one of the witnesses had 
 been tampered with, bribed, and threatened by 
 the defendant, matters remained as they were, 
 and the poor Marquise de Douhault was not only 
 deprived of her estates, her money, her titles, 
 and rights of every description, but she was de- 
 prived of her name and considered as dead. 
 
 If the plaintiff was not Madame de Douhault, 
 who was she ? This nobody could tell, by the 
 judgment of the Court the subject of this paper 
 was a woman without a name, without a station, 
 without a title, without an origin ; she belonged 
 to nobody, she could claim no relation, she had 
 no position whatever in the world, she could not 
 
THE WOMAN WITHOUT A NAME. 139 
 
 appear before a court of law under any denomination 
 she could not perform any act of civil life ; site was 
 nothing, nobody, a nonentity ! There were no legal 
 means in France of reversing this decision ; this 
 was proved by the numerous consultations that 
 occurred upon it even up to the year 1809. Nor 
 was the difficulty removed, as it might have been 
 by the Head of the State. The lady who 
 claimed to be Madame de Douhault remained to 
 the end of her days a woman without a name ; 
 and when she died, no one dare inscribe any 
 name upon her tombstone. 
 
 This is one of the most remarkable cases in 
 which truth and equity have been sacrificed to 
 forms of law. The learned counsellor, M. Eomain 
 De SSze, (who defended Louis XVI. on his trial) 
 published, in 1808, a dissertation upon the 
 Douhault case, in which he showed that there 
 existed no form of French legislation, nor any 
 power in any Court, no resource, in fact, by 
 which the plaintiff could appeal against the sen- 
 tence which formally refused her the name she 
 claimed, and prohibited her from assuming it. 
 
XVIII. 
 
 CAEON DE BEAUMAROHAIS. 
 
 T)IEE.EB Augustin Caron was born in January, 
 -L 1732, in a stop in the Eue St. Denis. His 
 father was a well-known and clever clock-maker 
 and mechanician ; he had a tolerably good 
 education and was a man of discernment. He 
 soon became aware of his son's brilliant abilities, 
 and fostered them by every means in his power. 
 Besides this son he had five daughters, all of 
 whom were fond of poetry and music. Pierre 
 Augustin was by no means an indifferent per- 
 former on the harp. He had some excuse, in 
 after years, in taking the name of Beaumarchais, 
 as it belonged to a small property of his wife's ; 
 more so, indeed, than M. Jean Baptiste Poquelin 
 had when he styled himself Moli^re, or M. 
 Fran9ois Arouet when he became Voltaire. 
 
CAEON DE BEAUMARCHATS. 141 
 
 The young Beaumarcliais was sent to school 
 at Alfort till he was thirteen and then returned 
 to his father's shop, learned his trade, and, being 
 decidedly handsome, soon became notorious 
 among the ladies for his good looks, his boldness, 
 and his madrigals. Old Caron had considerable 
 difficulty in managing him. One day the young 
 man wrote some letters to the papers to defend 
 his invention of a new pendulum movement, 
 which the celebrated watch-maker Lepaute ap- 
 pears to have more or less pirated. The result 
 was so cleverly gained, that young Caron obtained 
 permission to write himself " Clock-maker to 
 the King" (Louis XV.) He was then twenty- 
 four years of age, and of very prepossessing 
 manners and appearance. Nor was he long in 
 attracting the attention of persons who, in those 
 times, " kissed away" places of trust and 
 emolument in France. Madame Francquet, the 
 wife of a controleur of the King's household, 
 persuaded her old and infirm husband to dispose 
 of his sinecure for a yearly rent to the handsome 
 young man, and when old Francquet died, she 
 bestowed on him her hand and the " fief" of 
 Beaumarchais. A few months after this the lady 
 was carried off by typhus fever. 
 
 In after years, the adversaries of Beaumarchais 
 
142 CAKON DE BEAUMAKCHAIS. 
 
 put the worst construction on the deaths of 
 Prancquet and his wife, accusing the survivor of 
 foul play on the occasion. 
 
 The reputation of the young -widower as a 
 wonderfully clever clock-makerj as a player on 
 the harp, and as one of the handsomest and 
 wittiest men of the day, soon reached the Court. 
 Coming to the ears of the four dull daughters of 
 Louis XV., they desired to see him, to hear him, 
 and to take lessons from him. Thus he became 
 a performer in the family concerts which the 
 Princesses gave once a week. This patronage 
 raised a storm of jealousy in various quarters, 
 and led Beaumarchais into many scrapes, and 
 one or two duels. It is said that in one of these 
 he killed his man, without any seconds being 
 present, but that the old King and the Princesses 
 got the matter hushed up. A courtier, who 
 boasted that he would put down this upstart 
 favourite, stopped him in the midst of a large 
 group of persons and desired him to examine his 
 watch. Beaumarchais begged to be excused, as 
 he had given up watch-making and "had be- 
 come very awkward." But the other pressed 
 him again, until Beaumarchais, taking the watch 
 in his hand and pretending to examine it, let it 
 fall heavily upon the floor, saying, with a low 
 
CAUON DE BBAUMAEOHAIS. 143 
 
 bow, " Sir, I warned you of my extreme 
 awkwardness," and left tlie gentleman to pick 
 up his broken watch. 
 
 In spite of this Court patronage, however, 
 the young adventurer, for we can scarcely call 
 him by any other name, found an empty purse a 
 serious difficulty in the way of his advancement. 
 He was determined to rise, and a ladder was 
 soon found in the person of M. Paris Duverney, 
 a well known financier, and a satellite of the 
 famous Madame de Pompadour. Duverney, in 
 return for a service which Beaumarchais had 
 done him in inducing the four Princesses and 
 the King to visit the Ecole Militaire in order to 
 bring it into notoriety, lent him 500,000 francs, 
 to enable him to purchase the position of Grand 
 Master of the Woods and Forests, then vacant. 
 But the son of Caron the watch-maker was de- 
 clared ineligible. 
 
 In 1764 Beaumarchais set out for Spain on 
 some secret business, and with a purse well filled 
 by Duverney, he at once established himself 
 in a brilhant position at the Spanish Court ; but 
 his projects were not crowned by a solid success. 
 Many years before old Caron had been consulted 
 on some mechanical problem by the Governor of 
 Madrid, and he had two daughters residing 
 
144 CARON DE BEAUMARCHAIS. 
 
 there. Marie Louise Caron, the second daughter, 
 who joined her married sister as a milliner in 
 that city, was the heroine of the Clavijo adven- 
 ture, which Gothe subsequently took as the 
 theme for his tragedy. In fact, when Beau- 
 marchais arrived at Madrid, his first object was 
 to vindicate the honour of his sister, when she 
 was left at the altar's foot by Sefior Clavijo. 
 He managed to cover the calumniator with 
 shame and to marry his sister to a M. Durand. 
 
 On his return to Paris, Beaumarchais endea- 
 voured without success to gain the affections of 
 a young and extremely wealthy Creole, whom 
 he met at his father's house. But this damsel, 
 who was said to possess a vast fortune in St. 
 Domingo, was carried off under his very nose 
 by a rival suitor. In 1768, when thirty-six 
 years of age, he had so far forgotten this grief 
 — grief at the loss of some monies which he 
 asserted he had advanced to the youno- Creole — 
 that he married a Madame Levfeque, a widow 
 who brought him a brilliant fortune. Besides 
 this, by the help of Duverney, he purchased 
 from the State a large tract of the Forest of 
 Chinon, which he farmed. Shortly after his 
 return from Madrid he produced two plays, 
 " Eugenie" and " Les Deux Amis," which were 
 
CAEON DE BEAUMAEOHAIS. 345 
 
 performed at the Com^die Fran^aise. They had 
 little or no success. 
 
 The second Madame Beaumarchais died within 
 four years of her marriage, and the son she bore 
 to the dramatist died a year or two later. It 
 was maliciously rumoured that he had poisoned 
 both his wife and the child. 
 
 Coincident with his attempts at drama, Beau- 
 marchais was plunged into the first of those 
 lawsuits which figure so prominently in his 
 " Memoirs." This was a dispute between him- 
 self and the heir of Paris Duverney, a Couut 
 de la Blaohe. On Duverney' s death, Beaumar- 
 chais sent in large accounts against the estate, 
 and La Blache accused him of forgery. The fact 
 could not be proved, but' the whole proceeding 
 was most damaging to his reputation. Later on, 
 came the well known Goezmann trial and a new 
 disgrace. In fact, what with the scandals con- 
 nected with his name, and his reputation for 
 ingenuity and enterprise, by no means diminished 
 by the production of his " Memoirs," few per- 
 sons were more notorious in Paris, about the year 
 1774, than the Sieur Caron de Beaumarchais. 
 
 In spite of the disgrace brought upon him by 
 the sentence in the above mentioned trial, the 
 old King, on learning that he possessed great 
 
146 CAEON DE BEAUMAEOHAIS. 
 
 tact in negociating matters of delicacy, employed 
 Mm to silence a libeller named Thev^nau de 
 Morande, residing in London, wlio interfered 
 witli tlie peace of his old age. In this case, the 
 manuscript and some 3000 copies of the 
 " Memoirs of Madame du Barri" were burnt in a 
 lime-kiln in the neighbourhood of London, but 
 at the exorbitant price of 20,000 francs paid 
 down by the French Government, and a sum of 
 4,000 francs a year to the infamous libeller. In 
 after years, Louis XVI. compounded- for the 
 payment of this income by laying down a second 
 sum of 20,000 francs. 
 
 Some time afterwards, when Louis XVI. and 
 his young consort were likewise libelled by a 
 fellow named Atkinson, who wrote under the 
 name of Angelucci, and published simultaneously 
 in London and Amsterdam, Beaumarchais treated 
 with him and silenced him with £1,400, but not 
 without considerable trouble. The knave actually 
 started for Nuremberg with a surreptitious last 
 copy of the book, and with the intention of 
 having it reprinted ; but our expert hero fol- 
 lowed him under the disguised name of M. de 
 Ronac (anagram of Caron) overtook him and 
 frustrated his designs. 
 
 The next piece of " secret service" in which 
 
GABON DB BEAUMARCHAIS. 147 
 
 he was engaged was the bribing of the celebrated 
 diplomatic agent, a lady known as the Chevalier 
 d'Eon, noted for her courage and skill with 
 the rapier as a dueUist. For this he was restored 
 to social position by the annulling of the sentence 
 of the Courts. against him; nothing could better 
 point to the rotten state of society in France at 
 this period. 
 
 His dramatic efforts had by this time produced 
 " The Barber of Seville," which was originally 
 written in the form of a comic opera, the plot of 
 which he brought from Spain. In 1772 his 
 original piece was refused, on account of the 
 principal singer having been formerly a barber 
 or a barber's assistant. On this, the opera was 
 transformed into a comedy and accepted by the 
 Theatre rran9ais ; but the author being put in 
 prison, as the result of a quarrel with the Duke 
 de Chaulnes, on the very night announced for 
 its performance, it was withdrawn. A year later 
 the " Barbier" was again announced, and so 
 much attention had Beaumarchais and his affairs 
 by this time excited, that every box and seat 
 were taken for the first five nights. However, 
 the production was forbidden on the day for 
 which the representation was fixed, on account 
 of the many allusions to the Goezmann trial with 
 
 L 2 
 
148 CARON DB BEATJMAROHAIS. 
 
 which he had spiced the story. At last, after 
 undergoing a great many changes of various 
 sorts, " Le Barbier de Seville" was brought out 
 in 1775, and, on the first night was a perfect 
 failure. The author withdrew the piece at once, 
 cut out an entire act, modified the scenes and 
 the dialogue, and two night's later it was played 
 with triumphant success. 
 
 The French Grovernment then began to employ 
 Beaumarchais in American politics, and he was for 
 sometime engaged in financial operations referring 
 to the American war ; " secret service," " indirect 
 agency" and "army contracts," proving in no 
 small degree remunerative to such a clever and 
 unscrupulous negotiator. His appeal against the 
 judgment convicting him of forgery in the La 
 Blache trial was successful at Aix, and 
 brought him into more prominence than ever. 
 In 1779 he engaged in the mad freak of publish- 
 ing a complete edition of Voltaire's works, and 
 an edition in one hundred and sixty- two volumes, 
 comprising two editions, a cheap one and an 
 expensive one, duly appeared, which specula- 
 tion turned out a complete failure. 
 
 That he turned the notice attracted to him to 
 the fullest account, both for public and private 
 purposes, may be taken for granted. There was 
 
CAEON PB BEAUMARCHAIS. 149 
 
 no such " busy-body" in the whole of Europe, 
 and in the midst of all these intrigues and 
 negotiations, money lending, financing, &c., 
 Beaumarchais managed to write and bring out 
 the best of his plays " Le Mariage de Figaro," 
 in which he hits off the taste and temper of 
 French society immediately before the outbreak 
 of the Revolution. Hindrances were thrown in 
 the way of its representation, but a blaze of 
 party triumph attended its production. The 
 subtle manner in which the unfortunate Marie 
 Antoinette was prevailed on to become the 
 protectress of a piece pronounced by the 
 authorities to be so inflammable, constitutes a 
 master-stroke of craft. 
 
 Never, in the whole history of literature, was 
 success better managed, never were cunning and 
 the experience of human weakness better com- 
 bined than in the case of this play. Beaumar- 
 chais was fifty-three years of age on its 
 production, and many authors rank it next 
 to Moliere's plays, as a purely literary 
 work. 
 
 In 1785 or '86, the Comte de Mirabeau made 
 the acquaintance of the author of the " Mariage," 
 and being very short of funds at the time asked 
 him, in that light way which belongs to borrowers 
 
150 GABON DE BEAUMAEOHAIS. 
 
 of quality, to lend him 12,000 francs. Beau- 
 marchais politely and jestingly declined. 
 
 " But it would be easy enough, for you to lend 
 me this sum," said the Count. 
 
 " It would, doubtless," was Beaumarchais' 
 answer, " but as it must come to a quarrel with 
 you when settling day arrives, I would as soon 
 that the quarrel came to-day, since I shall gain 
 12,000 francs by it." 
 
 This little anecdote exhibits Beaumarchais' 
 character most effectually. The quarrel with 
 Mirabeau broke out shortly afterwards with re- 
 gard to some water company, and our adven- 
 turer's reputation was not bettered by it. Neither 
 did a fresh law-suit instituted against him by the 
 Alsatian banker, Cornman — which was most 
 disreputable to all connected with it — enhance 
 his reputation for fair dealing either with men or 
 women; and when the Revolution came, the 
 author of the " Maria ge de Figaro" found that 
 his credit and reputation were rapidly decaying. 
 
 The libretto to the opera of " Tartare," which 
 he wrote for Gliick, but which the latter passed 
 on to Salieri, met with some degree of success 
 at the Grand Opera. His other play " La Mere 
 Coupable" is echpsed by the " Bar bier" and the 
 " Mariage." 
 
OARON DE BEAUMARCHAIS. 151 
 
 As soon as Beaumaroliais had " by fair means 
 or foul" acquired a considerable fortune, and 
 provided for his father and sisters, he set to 
 work to build himself a house upon a tract of 
 land which he purchased near the Bastille. On 
 this he spent about 1,673,000 francs. The 
 mansion was furnished in the most luxurious 
 style, and he used to call himself " the first 
 poet in Paris, as you come in by the Porte St. 
 Denis and turn to the left." 
 
 For two years he enjoyed this " peaceful her- 
 mitage ;" for two years were the splendours of 
 this " royal residence " shared by his friends and 
 his family; then came the times of trouble, 
 suspicion, spoliation, flight, and a series of 
 adventures and intrigues which give point 
 to the saying that this extraordinary man lived 
 ten lives whilst other people lived one. 
 
 In 1799 he was found dead in his bed aged sixty- 
 seven years and three months, leaving the family 
 fortunes in a state of the greatest confusion. 
 One of the Paris Boulevards bears his name ; it 
 covers the site where his celebrated mansion and 
 grounds once existed. 
 
 It may perhaps be gleaned from the foregoing 
 brief and very incomplete sketch of the life and 
 adventures of this remarkable man, that Beau- 
 
152 
 
 OAEON DE BEAUMAECHAIS. 
 
 marcliais was the creature of the dissolute times 
 in which he hved. He was not a vulgar impostor 
 like CagliostrOj nor a dreamy deceptive enthusiast 
 like Mesmer, but a refined intriguant of the 
 cleverest type, and a man of uncommon natural 
 abilities. He began his unscrupulous career by 
 taking advantage of his good looks ; his first 
 patron was " a satellite of Madame de Pompa- 
 dour." A woman crops up at every point of his 
 history, at every undertaking, and every adven- 
 ture with which he is connected. Weak minded 
 men were everywhere his tools, and the Parisian 
 public, bhnd to his faults and disgraces, idolized 
 him as a hero. To his energy, boldness, and 
 natural talents, he owed his enormous fortune, 
 and powerful influence, as soon as his love 
 intrigues had secured him a first step in the 
 ladder of fame. No man was ever more active 
 or persevering, witness his determination to put 
 down the claim of Lepaute, the watchmaker, to get 
 himself made watchmaker to the Court ; to derive 
 pecuniary advantages at the expense of his ad- 
 mirers and at the risk of his character ; to produce 
 his " Barber of Seville" in spite of aU obstacles ; to 
 gain his law-suits, &c. In the next place his im- 
 pudence and entire^ want of modesty caused him to 
 succeed where a noble-hearted man would have 
 
CAEON T)E BEAUMARCHATS. 163 
 
 failed, or rather would have remained inactive. 
 Joined to this we have his knowledge of music, 
 his poetical gifts, and his literary ability which 
 was very great. His " Mariage de Figaro " alone 
 would have handed his name down to posterity, 
 but without the author's unenviable notoriety at 
 the time of its production, it might never have 
 seen the light. The corrupt manners of the 
 eighteenth century are vividly reflected in his 
 career, and we may safely consider Beaumarchais 
 as one of those men who are both famous and 
 infamous at the same time. 
 
XIX. 
 
 THE BAEKBL OF GOLD. 
 
 THE celebrated lawyer Berryer, who practised 
 his profession diiring the whole period of 
 the French Revolution, and pubhshed his in- 
 teresting " Souvenirs " in 1839, has left us many 
 striking episodes of this epoch. We are indebted 
 to him for the following curious history, the facts 
 of which occurred during the first war in La 
 Yendee, and gave rise to a suit in which he was 
 engaged some years afterwards. 
 
 When the war in La Vendee broke out, the 
 Marquis de Sourdis and his family lived upon a 
 small estate situated near the borders of the 
 insurgent country. The first successes of the 
 Republicans brought their troops within so short 
 a distance of this property, that the owners 
 thought it advisable to secure their safety in 
 
THK BAREFJ, OF GOLD 155 
 
 flight. Shortly before this, the Marquis, as a 
 special precaution, had supplied himself with a 
 very considerable sum in gold coin and had 
 filled a moderately large barrel with it. When 
 the time of departure arrived, he placed this 
 barrel upon a cart along with his other efEects, 
 and covered the whole with branches of trees. 
 In front of the cart were placed his wife and his 
 three young children, the eldest of which was 
 scarely eight years old. The Marquis himself 
 walked by the side of the horses, and conducted 
 the expedition without the aid of any servant, so 
 that no person should know the locality in which 
 he was about to seek refuge from the bloodthirsty 
 Republicans. 
 
 He had chosen for this purpose the dwelling of 
 an old comrade and fellow officer, a most devoted 
 friend, who resided in the centre of a tract of 
 country known as " Le Socage." Soon after the 
 refugees had arrived, and were safely housed in 
 this quiet, retired and hospitable domain, the 
 Marquis confided to his friend the existence of 
 the aforesaid barrel of gold among his luggage, 
 and consulted with him as to the safest manner 
 of secreting it, in case of accident. It was re- 
 solved to bury it in a certain spot which was only 
 known to the Marquis, his host, and the two 
 
156 THE BARREL Of GOLD. 
 
 ladies. This is an important feature in tlie story ; 
 each husband and wife were present when the 
 gold was interred, and no other persons knew 
 anything about it. 
 
 In the course of a short time the EepubHcan 
 arms gained ground considerably in the direction 
 of Le Bocage, and the two officers, le Marquis de 
 Sourdis and his host, determined at once to join the 
 Yendeans, and help them to resist the encroach- 
 ments of the enemy. Unfortunately this enter- 
 prise was unsuccessful, both young men were 
 killed in the first skirmish whilst fighting gal- 
 lantly at the head of the insurgent band; and 
 almost immediately afterwards the quiet retreat 
 in the centre of Le Bocage was surrounded by 
 the victorious revolutionists. The Marquise de 
 Sourdis with her children and her hostess had 
 only just time to fly precipitately from the house ; 
 getting separated in the anxiety of the moment, 
 they fled in different directions. The young 
 Marchioness and her three little children took 
 refuge in the thickest portion of an outlying cop- 
 pice which belonged to the estate; there she 
 crawled into the brushwood, covered her children 
 with some shawls which she had snatched up on 
 leaving the house, and managed to induce them 
 to keep perfectly quiet though they could scarcely 
 
THE BARBEL OF GOLD. 157 
 
 understand the danger of their position. Whither 
 her hostess had fled, the terrified Marchioness 
 was quite ignorant. This retreat into the coppice 
 was not effected a moment too soon, for they 
 were hardly hidden there before groups of 
 Repubhcan soldiers penetrated every nook and 
 corner of the property, with the bayonet fixed to 
 the end of their guns. In the course of the after- 
 noon, several came within an incredibly short dis- 
 tance of the Marquise and her young children ; a 
 single cry from the latter would have betrayed 
 their hiding place and cost them their lives. But 
 they escaped providentially without discovery, 
 and an advance of some of the Vendean band 
 caused the Republicans to fall back upon the 
 main body. The Marquise immediately profited 
 by thi s retreat to escape from the coppice, she 
 wandered towards the tract of country already 
 spoken of as Le Bocage, and received hospitality 
 wherever charity, similarity of feeling or party- 
 spirit would afford her refuge. 
 
 For a considerable length of time did the 
 Marquise de Sourdis and her three children lead 
 this precarious kind of life, wandering from 
 house to house, from village to village, until La 
 Vendee became pacified for the first time ; this 
 gave her an opportunity of seeking her former 
 
158 THE BARREL OF fiOLD. 
 
 home and her friends. She found her estate de- 
 vastated, her comfortable chateau levelled with 
 the ground, her gardens and plantations trodden 
 down and destroyed, her farm burnt and pillaged. 
 Not a thing remained to her in the whole world, 
 but the barrel of gold which her late husband 
 had deposited, as we have seen, in the hospitable 
 mansion in the fays du Socage. 
 
 Not doubting for a moment that this precious 
 charge would be delivered over to her as soon as 
 she asked for it, the Marquise de Sourdis repaired 
 to the residence of her friend, whom she found 
 surrounded by a group of visitors, and in excel- 
 lent spirits. ISTevertheless, the apparition of the 
 Marquise appeared to cause some embarrassment. 
 When she desired to seek for the barrel which 
 contained the whole of her fortune, the lady did 
 not hesitate to give the necessary orders in a 
 moment, but would not take part in the search 
 herself. She thought that she remembered 
 something about a barrel which was brought with 
 the luggage of the Marquise, but declared that 
 she never knew what it contained, nor had she 
 any idea where it had been hidden. All this was 
 afterwards declared before the court. Being so 
 entirely ignorant in all these matters, she would 
 not render herself responsible in any way by 
 
THK BAERBL OP GOLD. 169 
 
 helping to seek for it. This extraordinary- 
 language was duly noted at the time by the party 
 interested, and came forward at the trial to be 
 alluded to in the sequel. 
 
 The disconsolate Marquise and her friend's ser- 
 vants proceeded at once to search the spot which 
 she remembered so well, the outward appearance 
 of which was not changed in the least since her 
 stay in the house ; but in spite of diggings and 
 excavations in every direction, not a vestige of 
 the treasure could be found. At the same time, 
 the poor Marquise de Sourdis could not help 
 observing that a marked improvement had taken 
 place in her friend's affairs since they last met. 
 Her farms, which had been burnt, had been re- 
 built, her house repaired, her lands laid out 
 anew ; no expense seemed to have been spared. 
 Yet everyone in the neighbourhood knew that 
 before the raid of the Eepublican troops the 
 family was decidedly poor, money was often 
 scarce, and the result of the crops most anxiously 
 looked forward to ; whilst now every Httle whim 
 and fantasy appeared to be satisfied, and 
 money was evidently much more plentiful than 
 formerly. 
 
 Having collected these observations, and with 
 a heavy heart, the Marquise retired to Paris, 
 
160 THE BAEBEL OP GOLD. 
 
 and commenced an action at law against lier 
 friend, to enforce her to make good tlie value 
 of the barrel of gold. The latter did not deny- 
 that such a deposit had really been made on 
 her estate, but asserted that it was not con- 
 fided to her, and that she was ignorant of 
 the spot in which the said deposit had been 
 made. 
 
 The worst portion of the defendant's evi- 
 dence related to the fact, that after returning 
 to the property from which she had fled so pre- 
 cipitately, she had caused certain excavations 
 to be made, about which nothing had transpired, 
 and when questioned as to the cause of this 
 work, or the reasons for which it was under- 
 taken, no satisfactory explanations were forth- 
 coming. They were stated to have formed part 
 of the work done during the repairs of her 
 property devastated by the Kepublican soldiers ; 
 but why they had occurred only in a certain 
 place, and to a certain depth, and why the 
 earth in this locality had merely been loosely 
 filled in, without any apparent motive, could 
 not be satisfactorily accounted for by the de- 
 fendant. 
 
 The case of the Marquise de Sourdis ap- 
 peared at first sight to be grounded upon 
 
THE BARREL OP GOLD. 161 
 
 an important basis and had every probability 
 of a successful issue, but the tribunal taking 
 a rigorously legal view of the matter, decided 
 that tbere was not sufficient proof to render 
 the friend of the Marquise responsible ; it 
 could not be clearly made out that she re- 
 ceived the barrel of gold as a deposit to take 
 cbarge of it, in order to restore it afterwards to 
 its rightful owner. The verdict was appealed 
 against in the ' Court of Cassation ;' but 
 this tribunal decided, with regret, that the 
 appeal must be thrown out, and so the 
 precious deposit was lost for good. It was 
 one of the few important cases in which 
 Berryer was unsuccessful. 
 
 M 
 
XX. 
 
 " MADAME LA RBSSOUECB." 
 
 TT was a curious scene when PMUis, the 
 -*- guitar-player — father of the fascinating 
 Mademoiselle Phillis, who created some sen- 
 sation in Gretry's music as an opera singer — 
 was brought before the Eevolutionary tribunal 
 as a " suspect." Nothing more frightful can be 
 conceived than that ferocious law which allowed 
 the so-called " domiciliary visits" or house-break- 
 ing by law ! 
 
 The gates of the town were closed; no 
 one could escape, and by six o'clock in 
 the evening every one was obHged to be 
 within his own doors, in order that the 
 bloodthirsty thieves might come and seek out 
 their victims and lead them to prison and to 
 death. 
 
163 
 
 In tlie whole annals of mankind we find 
 nothing more abominable and cowardly than 
 this. The said visites domiciliaires were a fit 
 pendant to the September massacres of the 
 year 1792, when priests, women, noblemen, 
 soldiers and citizens of all kinds, to the 
 number of many thousands, perished; and it 
 opened the way to the murder of thousands 
 more ! How easy it was for these despotic 
 ruffians to assert that some person against 
 whom they had a private pique, was a " sus- 
 pect," lead him before the already mentioned 
 tribunal, give him a kind of mock trial, 
 for the sake of appearances, and then 
 murder him ! Here and there a clever in- 
 dividual managed to hide himself, some es- 
 caped miraculously to distant countries, and 
 one or two got let off by the brutes who sat 
 in judgment over them. 
 
 Such was the case with our guitar-player. 
 His " trial" appears, according to the memoirs 
 of the time, to have consisted almost entirely in 
 the following dialogue between himself and the 
 coarse President of the tribunal : — 
 
 " What is your real name ?" 
 
 " PhiUis." 
 
 M 2 
 
164 "MADAME LA MSSOURCE." 
 
 "What do you do?" 
 
 " I play the guitar." 
 
 " What did you do under the tyrant ?" (Allu- 
 sion to Louis XVI., who had just been 
 executed.) 
 
 " I played the guitar." 
 
 " What are you going to do for the Republic ?" 
 
 " I shall play the guitar." 
 
 The interrogatory did not proceed any further. 
 It was impossible by any means, however foul, 
 to find this man guilty or dangerous, so the 
 distinguished guitarist and composer was set 
 free. 
 
 Musicians escaped marvellously from the 
 deadly shafts of the Revolution. The guillotine 
 that mowed down lawyers, bankers, politicians, 
 men of science, authors, and even poets and 
 women, appears to have respected musicians. 
 The theatre and the concert-room do not figure 
 much in the bloody annals of the Communists ; 
 and though many professional artistes, and, 
 maybe, virtuosi of eminence, must have perished 
 in the wholesale massacres at Paris, Nantes, 
 Lyons, &c., yet all the great composers and 
 lyric artistes managed to elude the fearful havoc. 
 Perhaps this may be accounted for to some 
 extent by the vagabond life such people mostly 
 
MADAME LA EESSOUEOB. 
 
 165 
 
 lead. They have rarely any home, properly so- 
 called, are constantly travelling, and settle only 
 for a short period at a time in any city. 
 Then, as in the case of the guitarist just alluded 
 to, it is dijB&cult to drift them into politics of 
 any kind. The great violinist, Viotti, and his 
 pupil. Rode, alone appear to have got into some 
 difficulties, in later times, by their Eepublican 
 principles. Lastly, it seems that the most 
 ferocious beings which nature ever created 
 had some kind of respect for the charms of 
 music. 
 
 What a wonderful scene was enacted at Mar- 
 seilles on the 16th of August, 1785, barely four 
 years before the great outbreak, when Madame 
 St. Huberty, the celebrated cantatrice, then in 
 the height of her fame, visited that town ! The 
 most distinguished ladies escorted her to the 
 pavilion in a gondola, which was surrounded by 
 at least two hundred little boats crowded with 
 persons of all classes. She was saluted with a 
 salvo of artillery, as if she had been some distin- 
 guished general. The Greek ladies of Marseilles 
 presented her with a magnificent costume, which 
 she wore at this fete, the most pleasing gift, 
 perhaps, that a woman could receive. After 
 having disembarked amidst the acclamations 
 
166 " MADAME LA BESSOUBCB. 
 
 jj 
 
 of the people and the roar of cannon, she pro- 
 ceeded to witness a water-tournament, being 
 rowed there in a sumptuous gondola that had 
 been expressly prepared for her. On landing 
 again, the people danced round her with tam- 
 bourines and escorted her to an illuminated 
 pavilion, where they had erected a theatre 
 champetre, in which a httle allegorical piece, 
 written in her honour by a native poet, 
 was performed. Then followed a ball ; and, 
 after that, magnificent fireworks, illuminations, 
 and a splendid supper. On leaving the town 
 next day, Madame St. Huberty bore away on 
 the roof of her carriage more than a hundred 
 coronets, some of which were of great 
 value. 
 
 "Who was this Madame St. Huberty ? Her 
 real name was Clavel — Antoinette Clavel, or 
 Antoinette C^cUe Clavel. She was born of 
 French parents, at the Kttle German town of 
 Toul, in 1766. Her father had been a soldier, 
 but being a good musician, had embraced the 
 musical profession and got appointed super- 
 intendent of rehearsals to a French opera com- 
 pany in the service of the Elector Palatine. 
 Very early in life it was observed that Made- 
 moiselle Clavel had a delicious voice, but that 
 
MADAME LA EESSOUECE. 
 
 167 
 
 was all she possessed. She did not promise to 
 become a handsome woman, though her coun- 
 tenance was full of intelligence and her manners 
 refined and agreeable. 
 
 "When about sixteen or seventeen years of age, 
 she began to sing in public, and obtained some 
 degree of success in G-ermany, but nothing that 
 would have induced anyone to dream of the 
 brilUant future that was in store for her. She 
 sang under her own name of Clavel in the first 
 instance, and how or why she came to take the 
 name of Madame St. Huberty is one of those 
 profound mysteries which no historian has been 
 able to solve. Why she was surnamed " Madame 
 la Ressource," we know much better. 
 
 Whilst performing his duties in 1770 at 
 Manheim, the father, with the troupe to which 
 he belonged, formed an engagement for the 
 Opera at Warsaw, in which town the leader of 
 the orchestra, Lemoyne, also a Frenchman, gave 
 the young singer lessons during four years that 
 they stayed there, and afterwards brought her 
 out as a prima donna in his own little opera 
 called " Le Bouquet de Colette." She next sang 
 at Berlin, where it is stated she married a M. de 
 Oroisy, of whom we hear no more — but this is 
 doubtful — and then performed for three years at 
 
168 "MADAME LA EESSOITECE 
 
 »> 
 
 Strasburg, still under the name of Clavel, 
 At last she reached Paris, and made her debut 
 there in Gliick's "Armida" on the 23rd of 
 September, 1777, but only in a minor role. 
 
 Here we have the career of an operatic queen, 
 a namesake of Queen Marie Antoinette, which 
 comprises the whole period of the French Kevolu- 
 tion. 
 
 At Paris she was hardly noticed at first, and 
 could obtain none but secondary characters. 
 Her salary was a mere pittance, and she could 
 scarcely live upon it. She resided (the term is 
 quite ironical) at the top of a large house in the 
 Rue du Mail, her room was a mere garret, and 
 we are assured that the whole of her furniture 
 consisted of a Httle bed and a trunk which she 
 used as a chair. 
 
 In person, Madame St. Huberty — ^for that was 
 the name she had now adopted — was small, 
 delicate looking, and fair ; her features were not 
 finely formed, and she had rather a large mouth ; 
 but her face was very expressive. Her singing 
 was marred by a strong hard German accent, 
 anything but pleasant to French ears, and she 
 was extremely nervous both as a singer and an 
 actress. Assiduous efforts were requisite to over- 
 come these defects. 
 
" MADAME LA EBSSOUROE." 169 
 
 She attended rehearsal erery day with the 
 greatest punctuality, and on these occasions 
 Madame St. Huberty was invariably attired in 
 an old shabby black dress, that she had no money 
 to replace ; for her husband, if she really had one 
 at that time, appears to have been no better off 
 than herself. The other singers who flaunted 
 around in silks, laces and jewellery, looked down 
 upon this poor unfortunate Mademoiselle Clavel, 
 made fun of her fine theatrical name of Madame 
 St. Huberty, and ended by calling her " Madame 
 la Ressource," a nickname derived from a thrifty 
 personage in one of Regnard's plays. Grliick, the 
 great composer, had alone observed the superiority 
 of Madame St. Huberty' s style of singing ; he 
 alone had foreseen that she would, some day, 
 outstrip aU those dazzling butterflies of mediocre 
 musical talent who scarcely condescended to 
 notice her, and who never allowed her the chance 
 of a good part. He alone encouraged her arduous 
 endeavours to gain a livelihood by the only 
 means in her power. One day, in the presence 
 of this great master, a pert actress, on seeing 
 Madame St. Huberty enter the theatre, said, 
 " Oh ! here comes Madame la Ressource." The 
 term struck Gliick. " Yes !" he exclaimed turn- 
 ing to the speaker, "you may well call her 
 
170 "madamr la eessoueoe." 
 
 ' Madame la Ressource,' for the day will come 
 when this girl will be the sole resource of the 
 Opera House." Some believe the nickname to 
 have been invented by Sophie Arnould, and proba- 
 bly with much truth. From that moment, Grliick 
 used every effort to develop the powers of his 
 protegee, and when Sophie Arnould and Mademoi- 
 selle de Beaumesnil retired, Madame St. Huberty 
 got an opportunity of appearing (on the 12th of 
 May, 1778) as Angelique, in Picccini's opera of 
 " Roland," and obtained her first undoubted 
 success. 
 
 The exertions of poor Antoinette to improve 
 her singing and acting were now as unceasing as 
 those of Her Royal namesake to stay the voice 
 of calumny; and though her nervousness was 
 hard to overcome, and caused her occasional 
 failures, she gained another triumph in 1780 iu 
 one of G-retry's operas, and again in 1782 in 
 operas by Glossec and by Bdelmann. " Never," 
 says a contemporary, " had the expression 
 of tenderness and passion been so exquisitely 
 delineated on the French stage." 
 
 From this time her conquest of the public 
 was complete, and culminated in that wonder- 
 ful scene at Marseilles which we have already 
 noticed. 
 
" MADAME LA EESSOURCB." 171 
 
 Six years before the outbreak of the Ee- 
 volution, Madame St. Huberty achieved one of 
 her greatest triumphs as Didon in the opera 
 of that name by Marmontel and Piccini. 
 During the rehearsals, some persons remarked 
 to the composer that they feared for the 
 success of the opera, upon which Piccini re- 
 plied, " Gentlemen, pray do not judge ' Didon' 
 till Didon appears ;" and indeed when Madame 
 St. Huberty performed that character, the 
 success was so great that Louis XYI., who did 
 not care much for any opera, had it represented 
 twice at Pontainebleau. More than this, he 
 awarded to the talented singer an annual 
 pension of 1,600 francs, adding 500 more from 
 his own purse. This is one of the many similar 
 acts of kindness on the part of the King that 
 history has preserved — besides those of which 
 no accurate record has been kept, presumed, on 
 very good grounds, to have been still more 
 numerous. 
 
 From this time till 1790, when she retired 
 from the stage to marry a diplomatist, the 
 Count d'Bntraigues, Madame St. Huberty's 
 career was one continual sucess ; but we lose 
 sight of her from 1786, when she sang for 
 thirty successive nights in Grliick's " Alceste," 
 
172 
 
 till 1790; that is, during the first years of 
 trouble. In the Reign, of Terror, which ex- 
 tended some years further on, the theatres 
 were closed and several actors and actresses 
 imprisoned, who were only released in 1795. 
 
 The Count had served in the French Army, 
 and was formerly a member of the Constituent 
 Assembly. He had known the charming can- 
 tatrice for some time, and on the 29th De- 
 cember, 1790, was married to her; but the 
 marriage was kept secret for seven years after- 
 wards. What was she doing during all those 
 years of murderous strife in Paris? where did 
 she reside froin 1787 to 1790? History is silent. 
 No one knows what horrors she may have 
 witnessed, what anxieties and hardships 
 she may have undergone. Her lover, or hus- 
 band, was a diplomatist and a nobleman, 
 therefore his Hfe was not safe for a moment. 
 In 1790, after their marriage, he emigrated — 
 none too soon. He went first to Lausanne, 
 where his wife joined him; soon afterwards 
 he was appointed secretary to the French 
 Embassy at Madrid, and, later still, to that of 
 St. Petersburg. One day, on his way to 
 Vienna, he was arrested at Trieste, his papers 
 were seized and, forced from his devoted wife. 
 
173 
 
 he was thrown into prison in the Citadel of 
 Milan, on a charge of connivance in the in- 
 trigues of Pichegru. His wife managed to 
 procure his escape, and he then (in 1797) 
 made public his marriage for the first time. 
 
 The end of Madame St. Huberty — or rather, 
 Madame la Comtesse d'Entraigues — was tragical, 
 like that of her illustrious contemporary, Queen 
 Marie Antoinette — though. Antoinette the singer 
 did not die by the blade of the guillotine. 
 
 The Count, after his escape from Milan, 
 entered the political service of Russia. He was 
 entrusted with secret missions, which, brought 
 him in large sums of money, both from the 
 Court of St. Petersburg and from the English 
 Government, under the Ministry of Canning. 
 The Count and Countess d'Entraigues finally 
 came to reside in England, at Barn Elms, 
 on the Thames near Putney. They were on 
 very intimate terms with many members of 
 the Government. This attracted the attention 
 of some of Fouchl's agents, and one of tliem 
 bribed a Piedmontese valet of the Count, 
 named Lorenzo, to purloin some important 
 dispatches, which were entrusted to him, and 
 forward them to Paris. The theft was dis- 
 covered almost immediately, and Lorenzo was 
 
174 
 
 so grieved at having betrayed such a kind 
 master, that he completely lost his head. In 
 a fit of insanity he stabbed the Count as he 
 was coming down stairs on the morning of 
 the 22nd July, 1812, and meeting the Countess 
 as he rushed upstairs he stabbed her also. 
 He then shot himself. All three died. Thus 
 ended the days of one of the most delightful 
 of French singers, and a most praiseworthy 
 character. Before leaving the operatic stage 
 she helped many of her fellow artistes in the 
 kindest manner; more especially the eccentric 
 Mademoiselle Maillard, who became notorious 
 for having, in man's attire, fought two duels 
 with the same ofl&cer, and beaten him each 
 time, and the charming Madame St. Aubin, 
 who became part proprietress of the Op^ra 
 Oomique just as the Eevolution began, and 
 for the next ten years lived a life of 
 distress and anxiety. Thanks to "Madame la 
 Eessource," both these singers rose into high 
 repute, and have left behind them names that 
 win be long remembered in the French Operatic 
 world. 
 
XXI. 
 
 THE ASSIGNATS. 
 
 rpHE most extraordinary" revelations occur in the 
 -^ financial history of the paper-money issued 
 in Trance during the latter part of the reign of 
 Louis XYI. No one, however gifted his imagina- 
 tion, could realize the extraordinary rascalities of 
 all kinds that the Assignats gave rise to. Twenty 
 milliards of francs were floating about the 
 country in the form of paper-money; and 
 speculators, bill-discounters, swindlers of every 
 description, were working hard, day and night, 
 to make their illegitimate profits in a thousand 
 different ways. 
 
 It is especially in the records of the numerous 
 law-suits which arose out of this, that some 
 interesting episodes connected with the enor- 
 
176 THE ASSIGNATS, 
 
 mous issue of Assignats during the Revolution, 
 come to light. 
 
 Among other curiosities worthy of note, 
 we may mention the following : not only 
 was France flooded by paper-money of its 
 own issuing, but a manufactory was hard 
 at work in Germany producing imitations of 
 it to an unknown amount, and the artificial 
 fraudulent assignats, so manufactured, kept 
 finding their way across the frontier by 
 millions. This was one of the methods by 
 which Germany carried on the war against the 
 Republic ! 
 
 Then there was a rabble of speculators 
 known as " the Black Band" (la Bande Noire) 
 who engaged in the most iniquitous business. 
 Among other things they bought up pro- 
 perties confiscated by the Government; they 
 dealt in the chateaux and country residences 
 of the nobility and gentry exiled, emigrated or 
 murdered, which the revolutionary authorities 
 sold at the most ridiculous prices, well know- 
 ing that the purchasers would destroy these 
 old mansions and castles, these " bastions de 
 la f^odalite" if not by fire, at least by de- 
 molishing most of them. The same thing 
 occurred to a great number of fine old 
 
THE AS81GNATS. 177 
 
 cturches in the provinces, and numerous 
 venerable monuments of gothic arcMtecture 
 whioli were destroyed by these Vandals. 
 
 The rise in the value of goods, coupled 
 with the . rapid depreciation of the paper that 
 had purchased them, was the means of for- 
 tune on the one hand and ruin on the o|iher, 
 such as are only to be found in this period of 
 history. 
 
 At the moment of writing, we have before 
 us the case of a property in Normandy — 
 and it would not be difl&cult for us to cite 
 several similar cases — which was acquired for 
 a sum that scarcely exceeded one year's in- 
 come from the property itself. The estate 
 in question was purchased in 1790, for the 
 sum of 1,100,000 or 1,200,000 francs, and it 
 brought in at that time 40,000 francs a year. 
 At the period at which the purchase was 
 made it was mortgaged by the buyer up to 
 the last penny. About two or three years 
 later, when the paper-money represented only 
 the one-twentieth part of its nominal value, the 
 owner of the property hastened to pay the 
 mortgagees in assignats, which they were com- 
 pelled by law to accept. A prolonged law-suit 
 was the result, but nothing came of it. The 
 
 N 
 
178 THE ASSIGNATS. 
 
 buyer of the property really got it for little 
 more than one year's rent-produce, and tlie 
 mortgagees were more or less ruined. 
 
 The same year that this extraordinary trans- 
 action terminated, a gentleman named Oerfbeer 
 fell iU. He was a rich man, and the elder 
 member of a very good family. The illness 
 taking a serious turn, three medical men were 
 called in consultation. For six months these 
 three practitioners attended the invalid most 
 assiduously, and finally restored him to health. 
 
 It was agreed at their last visit that they 
 should each receive fgr their attendance the 
 magnificent sum of 150,000 francs in assignats, 
 representing about 12,500 francs in coin for 
 each physician. This enormous sum, so gener- 
 ously offered by the patient, was accepted with 
 the warmest expressions of thanks, and re- 
 ceipts in due form given for it by each of 
 the three physicians. Two of them took the 
 paper to a money-changer in the Palais Eoyal 
 and each received in exchange for it the sum in 
 coin we have mentioned. The third, however, 
 beUeving that the assignats would rise in 
 value, decided upon keeping his 150,000 francs 
 of paper, which he did, until the conversion 
 of the assignats into " mandats," or treasury- 
 
THE ASSIGNATS. 179 
 
 orders, opened his eyes. He then actually had 
 the stupidity to bring an action against his 
 former generous patient, to compel him to pay 
 the 12,500 francs in coin, and to receive in 
 exchange the depreciated assignats he had 
 received from him in the first instance, and 
 for which he had given a receipt. Of course, 
 he lost the action. 
 
 There was about the same time in Paris a 
 man who called himself the Count de Balck, 
 whose history is most singular. Gossips said 
 he was no Count at all, and whilst he di- 
 lated upon his ancient pedigree, they assured 
 everyone that he was the son of a labourer 
 on a vineyard in the Cote d'Or. Far from 
 being born a nobleman, they said, he had 
 received a little education from the charitable 
 old Curd of his village, and had thus been 
 enabled to get himself admitted into the service 
 of a rich nobleman of that district, in the 
 capacity of valet-de-chambre. 
 
 As the troubles of the Eevolution progressed, 
 it became more and more the fashion to 
 emigrate. At last the mania took such dimen- 
 sions that no person, considering himself a 
 gentleman, could do otherwise than quit the 
 country, setting aside the safety of such a 
 
 N 2 
 
180 
 
 THE ASSIGNATS, 
 
 step. It was both safe and fashionable, so 
 that at last the poor King was left almost 
 entirely without support, an easy prey to the 
 rabble of the streets ! 
 
 The master of our valet-de-chambre was pos- 
 sessed of this mania for emigration. Having sold 
 everything, he decided to depart and to take 
 this man with him as his only attendant. 
 One fine morning the horses were saddled, 
 and the two riders wended their way through 
 the wood -which surrounded the forsaken 
 chateau. The Count (the master) carried a 
 riding- whip and a pair of horse-pistols; the 
 valet had likewise a brace of pistols and a 
 kind of portmanteau strapped in front of his 
 saddle, in which the entire fortune of 
 his master was contained. The exact sum 
 which it represented it is impossible now to 
 name, but there must have been considerably 
 more than a million and a half of francs in 
 assignats. 
 
 They rode on for several days, sleeping at 
 night in secluded villages ; until, one after- 
 noon, they approached the frontiers of Savoy. 
 As they did so, they perceived on the right 
 of the road a station of Republican frontier 
 guards, and it was deemed prudent to separate 
 
THE ASSIGNATS. 181 
 
 and to gallop past them by the two different 
 roads ■ that branched off near the spot. It 
 was argued that in this case the shots that 
 might be fired at them would probably not 
 hurt either. The master took the straight 
 road and galloped out of sight, never drawing 
 rein till he was well out of reach of the 
 guns of the guard, and no shots were fired 
 after him. As soon as he had disappeared, 
 the servant turned his horse's head and 
 galloped back along the road he had come, 
 never stopping tiU he had penetrated again 
 a considerable distance into the interior, and 
 pulling up at a dilapidated cottagej where he 
 passed the night. Some say it was fright : 
 that he was afraid of the risk . of being shot 
 at, and forgot that he carried anything of 
 importance to his master. What became of 
 the latter we do not know. 
 
 The valet, by degrees, got nearer again to 
 his native place, ho one appears to have 
 hindered his journey. Being a man of low 
 birth, no persons questioned him as they might 
 have done had he been an aristocrat. At 
 one of the last places on the road where he 
 happened to lodge, he thought he would see 
 what was in the portmanteau strapped upon 
 
182 THE ASSIGNATS. 
 
 his saddle; so he broke it open in the inn, 
 and, having ascertained the nature of its con- 
 tents, decided not to return home, but to 
 ride on to Paris. It was a long, tedious and 
 anxious ride, no doubt, and more than once 
 he feared the loss of the treasure. 
 
 Suddenly he appeared at Paris with the title of 
 Count de Balck, gave himself out as a Russian 
 nobleman, and caused some admiration by the 
 fluency with which he spoke French — though it 
 was, even then, well known that the Russians 
 have peculiar facility in acquiring the pure French 
 accent. He was thirty-two to thirty-five years of 
 age, by no means a bad looking fellow, but the 
 habits of the valet-de-chambre clung to him, so 
 that several persons declared that he was some 
 apothecary's assistant who had made his fortune 
 by a quack medicine. 
 
 In order to induce people to believe that he 
 was really a nobleman, he purchased or rented, 
 one of the finest houses in Paris, the hotel for- 
 merly inhabited by Prince Salm-Kisbourg, 
 situated on the Quai d' Or say, and there he enter- 
 tained guests of all descriptions, morning, noon, 
 and night. In fact, he kept open house. Some 
 of the best music was to be heard there, and 
 some of the prettiest women graced his saloons. 
 
THE ASSIGNATS. 183 
 
 Things went on wonderfully well for a year or 
 two, but suddenly our valet-Count got into debt, 
 and to extricate himself from the difficulties of 
 his position, was obliged to consult a learned 
 lawyer, from whose memoirs these details are 
 gleaned. It was then discovered that this low- 
 born menial had never learnt how to invest 
 money, but had been living all this time on his 
 ill-gotten capital. "When he saw things in this 
 novel light, he ran away and was never heard of 
 again. 
 
 Another somewhat less direct kind of robbery 
 consisted in the negotiation of Government Bills 
 on Provincial Boards ; in which transactions bill- 
 brokers, or discounters were in league with the 
 authorities. A proprietor of such bills, who had 
 received them in payment from the Ministry, 
 wishing to realize upon them and not knowing 
 where or how to do so, applied to some place in 
 the Palais Royal where the cunning broker in- 
 formed him firstly that it was doubtful whether 
 the Country Board would ever pay — that they 
 had no money, all the taxes being spent before 
 they were collected, &c., but that if the client 
 would leave the numbers of the bills and call in 
 a day or two, he would see what could be 
 done. 
 
184 THE ASSIGNATS. 
 
 In the meantime the broker ascertained through 
 the authorities in the Treasury the exact value of 
 the bonds in coin, the date at which they would 
 be liquidated, &c., and then offered his client in 
 assignats about one half the sum which the said 
 bills were certain to realise. 
 
 In 1793 the French Rentes, which correspond 
 to our Funds, were so low in value that seven 
 francs invested therein brought in five francs a 
 year, or, in our money, each £100 yielded £71 
 per annum. It was an investment bringing in 
 no less than seventy-one per cent ! But only the 
 most audacious speculators risked their money in 
 such doubtful securities. No ordinary person 
 had enough confidence in the Republican Govern- 
 ment. People who invested some thousands 
 of pounds in Rentes at this time, realised a few 
 years later considerable incomes ; for, when the 
 Government consolidated the debt, and paid off 
 two-thirds of it in " mandats," still this invest- 
 ment brought in about twenty-five per cent upon 
 the capital employed. 
 
 Many French writers agree that, in spite of all 
 their drawbacks and the infamous transactions 
 to which they naturally gave rise, the issue of 
 Assignats did a great amount of good to the 
 country. They enabled the Republicans to carry 
 
THE ASSIGNATS. 185 
 
 on the war ; tliey contributed powerfully towards 
 tlie progress of Frencli industry; tbey fostered 
 enterprise in tlie industrial arts and manufactures, 
 wliicli could never have been managed otherwise ; 
 and, then, when coin returned to the country, 
 manufactories, forges, mills, &c., were found 
 ready developed. It was the Assignats that 
 enabled the town of Paris to melt up the bells of 
 the churches, and convert them into cannon and 
 copper money. A tolerably full account of this 
 paper-money, and its effects upon society in 
 general, is to be seen in Thiers' " History of the 
 French Revolution." 
 
 On the 19th of February, 1796, when the en- 
 graving plate of the Assignats was broken, there 
 had been issued 45,500,000,000 francs, or 
 £1,820,000,000 sterling of them. 
 
XXIT. 
 
 ASSASSINATION OF GUSTAVUS III. 
 
 TTTE did not intend in this series of sketches to 
 ' ' wander at all beyond French territory, 
 but there is one case in which we might be fairly 
 allowed to make an exception. The assassina- 
 tion of Gustavus III., King of Sweden, which oc- 
 curred on the 16th of March 1792, produced a 
 terrible effect upon all that then remained of the 
 French Court in Paris, where he was formerly so 
 well known. The Marquis de Bouille has left 
 us a detailed account of it in his " Memoirs," 
 though his style is not always so clear or explicit 
 as it might be. 
 
 In 1771 the King — then Prince Royal — visited 
 France under the incognito of Count de Haga, a 
 title taken from the name of the Chateau near 
 
ASSASSINATION OF GUSTAVUS III. 187 
 
 Btockliolm. He was liked exceedingly by all 
 with whom lie came in contact. It was during 
 this stay in Paris that he received the news of 
 the death of his father, Adolphus Frederick, and 
 his call to the throne of Sweden. He wrote at 
 once to the Swedish Senate, proclaiming his at- 
 tachment to the laws of his country. The year 
 following, 1772, he swore in the midst of the Diet 
 that he would respect the state privileges, and 
 public liberty, and that he would govern his peo- 
 ple with equity. But six months had scarcely 
 elapsed before, calculating on the support of his 
 troops, he overthrew the Constitution, complain- 
 ing that a " factious opposition," which existed 
 in the Diet itself, obliged him to defend his rights 
 and those of the nation. He surrounded the 
 Senate-house with soldiers and violently dispersed 
 the Assembly. 
 
 This violation of his oath and of the law of the 
 country gave encouragement to the intrigues of 
 the Court of St. Petersburg, which ended in Gus- 
 tavus III. declaring war with Russia, a war which 
 lasted from 1787 to 1790. He was compelled, 
 however, to call together a new diet at G^fle, to 
 obtain subsidies ; and, on this occasion, although 
 the deputies were chosen under his influence, 
 they showed stronger opposition than he had ex- 
 
188 ASSASSINATION OF GTJSTAVUS lU. 
 
 pected. The King therefore contented himself 
 with a portion only of the sums necessary to 
 supply the urgent wants of the State, and dis- 
 missed the Assembly. Tranquillity reigned, to all 
 appearance, at Stockholm, but th.e discontented 
 nobles plotted a conspiracy. 
 
 At the time of the sittings of the Diet at 
 G^fle the conspirators bad made several futile 
 attempts to fulfil their designs. Fate, more than 
 the vigilance of the King, appears to have saved 
 him upon this occasion. After his return to 
 Stockholm, three of the principal conspirators 
 took up their abode near the above mentioned 
 country residence of Haga, situated about 
 three miles from the city, where Gustavus 
 usually passed a portion of the winter months, 
 accompanied by very few courtiers and guards. 
 One evening, about five o'clock, they approached 
 the chateau in the dusk, and lay hidden near the 
 King's apartment, whicb was on th.e ground 
 floor. They were armed witb carbines, and were 
 aU ready to murder him, when His Majesty, 
 having returned that day from a long walk, 
 thoroughly exhausted by the exercise, entered 
 his library in his dressing-gown, threw himself 
 into an arm-chair, and went off to sleep at once, 
 
ASSASSINATION OF GUSTAVUS lit. 189 
 
 just in front of tte library windows, wliioli gave 
 entrance into tte garden. 
 
 Through these windows the would-be assassins 
 saw all this, and were convinced that the King 
 had suddenly died of a fit of apoplexy. They left 
 the place at once with this belief, and without 
 taking any steps to assure themselves of the 
 reality. They ended by renouncing the project, 
 for their courage failed them this time as it did 
 on other occasions. 
 
 It was under the shelter of a mask only 
 that they eventually dared to carry out their 
 fiendish purpose ; and even then had the 
 conspirators on the night of the occurrence 
 missed their victim, it is exceedingly pro- 
 bable that they would have given up the project 
 altogether, for they were thoroughly weary of 
 all the schemes they had elaborated during the 
 past six months. The fatal moment, as the 
 Marquis de Bouill^ tells us, had not yet arrived ; 
 it was reserved for the night of the 16-1 7th of 
 March, 1792, at the Bal Masque given at the 
 Opera, where the King was expected. 
 
 His Majesty, while supping with a few persons 
 of his household before proceeding to the ball, 
 received an anonymous letter, written in French, 
 in which he was implored not to carry out his 
 
190 ASSASSINATFON OP GUSTAVUS III. 
 
 intentions, intimating that if he went to the 
 ball he would be assassinated. The statement 
 was plain enough in all conscience. The writer 
 of the letter said that he was neither an ad- 
 mirer nor an approver of the politics and morals 
 of the King, but as a loyal man, he considered 
 it his duty to warn His Majesty. He warned 
 him, indeed, most particularly, in case he 
 persisted in carrying out his original intention 
 to take care, of himself in the ball-room the 
 moment he should be at all pressed by the 
 crowd, as that was to be the signal for taking 
 his life. The letter also told him in unmis- 
 takable terms to avoid most carefully the ground- 
 floor in the Chateau of Haga. 
 
 This letter was written by Lilienhorn, one 
 of the conspirators, and it is impossible to 
 discover his motive for writing it. Whether 
 his conscience tempted him to save the life 
 of the King (to whom he owed everything in 
 the world) without denouncing his as- 
 sociates, or whether knowing the courageous 
 character of Grustavus, he was induced to 
 send this anonymous missive with the 
 view of inciting the monarch's courage, and 
 so making sure of his presence at the ball — 
 will, ever remain a matter of opinion, but the 
 
ASSASSINATION OF GUSTAVUS III. 191 
 
 fact is that the -warnirig only produced the 
 latter effect. 
 
 The King showed the epistle to two or 
 three persons who were taking supper with 
 him; joked about it, laughed at it, and in 
 spite of the most pressing representations on 
 their part to forego the evening's amusement, 
 he decided on appearing at the ball, and 
 entered the large room with the utmost as- 
 surance, arm-in-arm with Baron Essen, his 
 chief equerry. But His Majesty had scarcely 
 made two turns round the ball-room before 
 the crowd, just as the letter had announced, 
 pressed about him very thickly. The assassins 
 approached him from behind, at the opposite 
 side to that on which his equerry walked, and 
 discharged a pistol loaded with slugs. He 
 received the shot in the left side, just above 
 the hip. The crowd dispersed in an instant. 
 The room was filled with smoke by the dis- 
 charge of the firearm, and several voices shouted 
 out " Fire ! fire !" which, of course, increased 
 the confusion. 
 
 It appears that at the very moment at 
 which the pistol was discharged, the King 
 must have made a movement which saved 
 his life for the time, otherwise he must have 
 
192 ASSASSINATION OF GUSTAVUS III. 
 
 fallen dead on tlie spot. As it was he fell 
 upon a bench, gave orders for the doors to 
 be closed, and for all the persons present to 
 take off their masks. The wounded Sovereign 
 was then conducted to an apartment in the 
 Opera House, without the conspirators taking 
 any step to assure themselves of the success 
 of their diabolical plot. There were, never- 
 theless, at this moment, no less than nine of 
 them around him, who with a little more 
 courage might have completed their murderous 
 intentions. 
 
 At this critical moment, Gustavus received 
 several Foreign Ministers and gave many proofs 
 of great courage and generosity. Having in- 
 quired whether the assassin had been arrested, 
 and being informed that he had not yet been 
 detected, he exclaimed : " Pray God they may not 
 be able to find him !" 
 
 However, the ruffian had dropped the pistols 
 as soon as he had committed the crime. A 
 person of the King's household had picked up 
 one of them, and also a knife, just like that 
 which the inEamous Eavaillac used to assassinate 
 Henri IV. The officers of the guards having 
 caused all the doors to be closed, four per- 
 sons only had managed to get away. Of 
 
ASSASSINATION OP GUSTAVUS III. 193 
 
 these, two were conspirators, both distin- 
 guished members of the nobility. As they 
 passed the doors, every person was obliged 
 to take off his mask and give his name; 
 and the assassin himself, who passed out last 
 of all, said, with the utmost impudence to 
 the Lieutenant of Police, " As for me, Sir, I 
 hope you do not suspect me !" The Lieu- 
 tenant stared hard at him, and then let him 
 pass without saying a word. 
 
 "Whether we must attribute it to the cold 
 nature of the Swedish people, which, accord- 
 ing to De Bouill^, would be due to the 
 northern climate, or whether it must be put 
 down to consternation or indifference, the 
 fact remains that little or no sensation was 
 created by this awful occurrence, neither dur- 
 ing the night, nor the following morning. 
 The event was not noised about as might 
 have been expected, and this shows what the 
 conspirators might have achieved if they had 
 possessed any courage at all. But in their 
 plan, the King was to have fallen dead on 
 the spot, and having missed their aim in 
 this respect, though his life was not spared, 
 the State was doubtless saved from a con- 
 vulsion, the dangers and misfortunes of which 
 
 
 
394 ASSASSINATION OP GUSTAVUS III. 
 
 would have been incalculable. The wounded 
 King at once nominated a Council of Eegency, 
 at the head of which he placed his brother, 
 the Duke of Sudermania, in order that the 
 affairs of State should not sufEer by his ill- 
 ness, and he would not hear of the culprits 
 being sought for. 
 
 The day after this deplorable event, the 
 weapons of the assassin having been traced 
 by the name of the armourer upon them, 
 the latter pointed out the person to whom he 
 had sold them ; a man named Ankastroem, 
 who was an officer in the Guards. He was 
 arrested in his own house, to which he had 
 returned after the ball, and had not taken 
 the least precautions to avoid capture, or 
 made the slightest attempt to escape. He 
 admitted at once that the pistols belonged to 
 him, and that he was the author of the at- 
 tempted assassination. He stated, moreover, 
 that it was the desire to revenge himself on 
 account of an unjust verdict pronounced 
 against him, (although the King had par- 
 doned him when the accusation was brought 
 against him) and that disgust of life, had tempted 
 him to execute this project, which he had 
 long meditated, and by which he hoped to 
 
ASSASSINATION OP GUSTAVUS III. 195 
 
 receive a great recompense " from the nation," 
 (he said, in the first instance, "from the 
 opposition.") However that might be, he 
 believed that in dying for his crime, he 
 would be rendering a great service to his 
 country. He was, therefore, a fanatic of the 
 purest type. 
 
 At first Ankastroem denied the existence 
 of any plot, and gave, his answers with 
 great firmness and assurance. But a few 
 days afterwards he confessed everything, 
 not only the plan of the conspirators, 
 but the names of the principal accomplices 
 and the price he was offered to commit 
 the crime — 48,000 rixdoUars. He asserted 
 that the plot had been brewing since 
 October of the previous year, that two 
 attempts to carry it out in Stockholm had 
 failed, and also one at G^fle. 
 
 The following was the line of action con- 
 templated : The King being killed, it was 
 proposed to murder at once all ■ the principal 
 supporters of the throne, the Barons Taube 
 and Armefeld, friends of the King; the Count 
 de Euth, Grand Marshal of the last Diet; 
 Count "Wachmeister, the Chancellor, together 
 with the Commandant of the City and the 
 
 (> 2 
 
196 ASSASSINATION OF GUSTAVTJS lU. 
 
 chief officers of the garrison at Stockholm ; 
 to carry their heads about on pikes "in the 
 French fashion," and with the assistance of 
 the artillery of a regiment of the Blue Guards, 
 and that of the Queen, of which they ap- 
 peared to be quite sure, to constrain the 
 people to adopt their cause; to deprive the 
 King's brother, the Duke of Sudermania, of 
 his liberty, if not of his life ; and finally to 
 become masters of the person of the young 
 King, and compel him to sign and proclaim 
 a new coijstitution based upon the principles 
 to be laid down by the conspirators. 
 
 The author of the anonymous letter was 
 arrested the same day as the fanatic Ankastroem. 
 He was taken just as he was leaving the 
 apartments of the King, where he had passed 
 a great portion of the day. This person, 
 Lilienhorn, was a Major of the Blue Guards, 
 a man who had been fed, dressed, educated, 
 and drawn from misery and obscurity by the 
 King, who covered him with favours up to 
 the last moment. He confessed before the 
 authorities, some days later, that he had had 
 a hand in the plot; that he had been seduced 
 ^/ into this abominable conduct by the hopes of 
 having the command of the " National Guard" 
 
ASSASSINATION OP QUSTAVUS HI. 197 
 
 of Stockholm given to him " after the re- 
 volution," as Monsieur de Lafayette had in 
 France. 
 
 So the fearful seeds of the French Revolu- 
 tion were already germinating in foreign coun- 
 tries, almost before they had ripened in 
 the midst of bloody atrocities in France. 
 But there was this extraordinary difference 
 in the present case : In France, the people 
 assassinated the Court and the King; in 
 Sweden, the assassination emanated from 
 the aristocracy. " It was the crime of 
 the nobility of the kingdom, humbled by 
 Gustavus in the last Revolution of Sweden," 
 says Thiers. " Thus the aristocracy who in- 
 veighed against this revolutionary fury of the 
 people in France were presented with an ex- 
 ample of what they themselves had formerly 
 been, and still were, in countries less civilised 
 than their own." 
 
 After thirteen days of dreadful suffering the 
 courageous King, Gustavus III., died from the 
 effects of the wound. 
 
XXIIL 
 
 THE BRIGANDS OP OEgJjEES. 
 
 A PERFECT picture of France and French 
 society during tlie time of the Great Revo- 
 lution it would be an exceedingly difficult task to 
 draw, but there is one thing which, however im- 
 perfect, the delineation, would strike the most 
 casual observer ; the immense amount of misery 
 of every description with which every quarter of 
 that beautiful country was afflicted. In the dark 
 heavy atmospheres of the cities and towns, murder, 
 pillage and famine were rampant ; in the pure air 
 of the country was the rising of La "Vendee with 
 its murderous warfare ; in the picturesque frontier 
 provinces, invasions of foreign troops — carnage, 
 pillage, desolation and starvation, everywhere ! 
 
 Even the remotest tracts of country, those 
 somewhat removed from the various revolutionary 
 
THE BBIGANDS OP OEG^EES. 199 
 
 centres, were infested with brigands. Notliing is 
 more remarkable tlian the history of the Brigands 
 of Orgeres, or " Les Chauffeurs," as they were 
 called, who were brought to justice at Ohartres, 
 and supplied the public of that old town with the 
 spectacle of a most extraordinary criminal pro- 
 ceeding, the accused numbering no less than one 
 hundred and ten persons, who appeared in the 
 dock altogether. It was in the midst of the 
 Revolution that these fellows were put upon their 
 trial. In order to hare them all placed before 
 the jury, the large church in the centre of the 
 town was converted, for the time, into a court- 
 house. Each successive morning the culprits 
 were taken from the prison, and conducted 
 thither in a long column strongly guarded by 
 mounted gendarmes, and foot soldiers. At the 
 head of the column walked a red-haired man, 
 powerfully built and of repulsive aspect. He 
 was the avowed chief of the band, and it had 
 been necessary to bring him out of the hulks at 
 Brest, in order to place him with his wretched 
 associates before the judges. Beyond the dock, 
 in the aisle of the church, were placed numerous 
 victims who had escaped with their lives, and 
 now appeared against these wretches. 
 
 The account of the extraordinary manner in 
 
200 THE BEIGANDS OF OEG^EES. 
 
 which these brigands of Org^res were captured is 
 certainly one of the greatest curiosities of the 
 period. We will condense their history as 
 muchas possible. 
 
 There exists about thirty-five miles from 
 Chartres, towards that district known as " Le 
 Vendomois," a vast forest of great antiquity still 
 called by its ancient name of Foret d'Orgeres. 
 In one of the thickest depths of this forest some 
 limestone quarries had been worked in former 
 ages ; they were of vast dimensions, and supplied 
 an enormous amount of building stone, notably 
 that with which the fine Cathedral of Chartres 
 was constructed. 
 
 In course of time, sundry thieves and vagrants 
 began to make use of these deserted old quarries, 
 in order to hide from justice, and escape pursuit ; 
 and after a while a complete colony of outcasts 
 of the worst description was thus formed and 
 took up their abode there. For many years this 
 state of things existed, and the colony of 
 brigands, consisting of men, women, and children, 
 amounted to a considerable number. First of all 
 the wives of the men were admitted, and then 
 laws were laid down and strictly adhered to by 
 the whole gang, under pain of death. It had its 
 chief, or governor, its police, and a set of rules 
 
THE BRIGANDS OF ORGEEES. 201 
 
 adapted to the dreadful profession they followed. 
 Their plan was to rob systematically, and in 
 separate bands. They had orders from the chief 
 to commit these robberies at any cost, that is, by 
 force, if necessary, by the use of torture, or even 
 by means of murder. They had agents dispersed 
 through several provinces, -watching the isolated 
 mansions and farms, taking note of those which 
 were the easiest to plunder, and then giving 
 notice to the band. The chief and a few of his 
 more intimate associates held council in the 
 caverns, and delegated a certain number of men 
 to go and secure the booty. 
 
 They usually went to work in the most 
 insidious manner ; gaining admittance, in the 
 evening to some secluded farmhouse indicated by 
 the agent, and obtaining entrance, or even hos- 
 pitality, by means of various well calculated pre- 
 texts. After securing all the farm servants by 
 means of ropes, or otherwise, they threatened the 
 proprietor and his wife with instant death, unless 
 they delivered up to them all they possessed. 
 The torture made use of on these occasions to 
 obtain from their victims any hidden treasure, 
 was by lighting a large fire, and holding to it the 
 feet of the poor creatures until they confessed 
 what they, or their husbands possessed, for it 
 
202 THE BRIGANDS OF OEGEEES. 
 
 was principally the women who were subjected 
 to this frightful treatment. From this circum- 
 stance the brigands w.ere known all over the 
 country- as the band oiLes Chauffeurs, and dreaded 
 immensely by the entire peasant population. 
 Although a few had been captured from time to 
 time by the police and sent to the galleys, 
 yet the number of cases of housebreaking, rob- 
 bery and murder was as great as before, the 
 band seemed to be as numerous as ever, no one 
 could guess whence these villains emanated, and 
 not one of those taken could have the fact of his 
 having had recourse to torture brought home to 
 him. There was no evidence sufficiently strong 
 to convict any one of these of being a Chauffeur, 
 though the suspicions were often very strong. 
 As to the great cavern in the forest, the deserted 
 quarries of which we have spoken, nobody ap- 
 pears to have heard of its existence ; the most 
 acute police officer had no idea where the stolen 
 property went. The fact is, that after the booty 
 was brought to the cave, it was only sold off in 
 small lots at a time in various village fairs, many 
 miles from the place where it was stolen, and still 
 further from the forest of Org^res ; so that it was 
 almost impossible to trace anything, or to recog- 
 nise the stolen goods when offered. 
 
THE BEIGANDS OF OEOfeMlS. 203 
 
 Tlie impenetrable mystery surrounding the 
 head-quarters of this band of brigands was at 
 length solved by the most singular accident. 
 
 One morning early, two gendarmes were riding 
 along the outskirts of the forest when one of 
 them perceived — in this desolate district, many 
 miles from any inhabited place — a little child, a 
 boy scarcely eight years of age. He at once called 
 his companion's attention to this curious fact. 
 Their surprise was great, the more so, as the 
 child's dress struck them as being most extra- 
 ordinary. One of them got off his horse, 
 went a little way into the wood and beckoned to 
 him. The lad approached, for he was hungry, 
 and immediately asked them for something to 
 eat. They told him that if he would go along 
 with them, he should have a good breakfast, and 
 he soon consented to do so. One of the 
 gendarmes then placed the child before him on 
 the saddle, and they rode off with him, never 
 drawing rein till they arrived at the nearest 
 village. There they entered the inn, and ordered 
 a breakfast for the half -starved urchin. 
 
 Whilst the little fellow eat, they observed him 
 closely, and were not very long in remarking that 
 he put everything into his pockets that happened 
 to be within his reach. Tea-spoons, a fork, a cork- 
 
204 THE BRIGANDS OP OEOfeEES. 
 
 screw, and various other small articles were 
 made away with in this manner, whilst the boy 
 was devouring his breakfast, and he did this 
 without appearing to have the least notion that 
 he was doing wrong. Upon being asked why he 
 took these things, he merely replied that he liked 
 them, they pleased him, or something to that 
 effect. No other reason could be extracted from 
 him, nor could he be made to understand that 
 there was any harm in what he had done — his 
 father, so he said, brought home things like 
 those to his mother almost every day, and she 
 never scolded him. 
 
 After the surprise, which this conduct excited, 
 had somewhat abated, the gendarmes came to the 
 conclusion that this lad must be the child of some 
 professional thieves who had brought him up in 
 the forest. When the little urchin had had 
 a glass or two of wine he became very loquacious, 
 and told his hosts that he lived "in a great 
 cavern " under the ground, in the forest, with a 
 great lot of people, besides his father and mother ; 
 that he had a number of little companions there 
 about his own age, some of whom had bullied 
 him and teased him so, that he had determined 
 to run away, more especially as his father and 
 mother had got very cross, and did not give him 
 
THE BEIGANDS OF OEgIiEES. 205 
 
 everything he wanted either to eat or to play 
 with. 
 
 It was imagined that by taking charge of this 
 child of the forest, the public authorities might 
 eventually succeed in tracing, through him, some 
 of the vagabonds who were said to live in the 
 great subterranean cavern that they had just 
 heard of for the first time. They told the boy 
 that as long as he remained with them he should 
 have plenty to eat, and lots of things to play with, 
 if he would promise not to take anything but 
 what they gave him, and if he would point out to 
 them, without saying a word, any of the people 
 of the cavern that he might happen to recognise. 
 They also promised him a small sum of money 
 for every person that he was able to recognise 
 in this way. The lad seemed to be quite content 
 with the bargain. He was then washed, carefully 
 combed, and dressed in a new suit of clothes, so 
 that it would have been quite impossible for his 
 own parents to have known him. Thus disguised, 
 the police officers took him with them to various 
 markets and fairs in the neighbouring villages, 
 and placing him beside a woman who passed as 
 his nurse, gave him the opportunity of pointing 
 out to them every individual he had seen in the 
 forest. 
 
206 THE BRIGANDS OF OEG^EBS. 
 
 In the course of a few days several arrests 
 were made ; and before many weeks had elapsed, 
 a considerable number of thieves of the worst 
 description were taken by means of these indica- 
 tions. These arrests went on steadily increasing. 
 In the meantime, the child had been nicknamed 
 " Greneral Finfin." It is a singular circumstance 
 that among the great number of individuals 
 taken in this manner by the police, neither the 
 father nor the mother of Finfin were to be 
 found ! Either they never left the cavern at all, 
 or the child took good care not to point out his 
 own father and mother. 
 
 Submitted to rigorous cross-questioning, con- 
 fronted with victims who had been robbed 
 and tortured, and who remembered the fea- 
 tures of the scoundrels, taken with stolen 
 objects in their possession, the criminals were 
 one and all convicted, proved to belong to 
 the dreadful band of Les Obavffeurs, and were 
 all condemned to- the hulks fgr life. A band 
 of honest workmen from. Chartres, under the 
 superintendence of the police, proceeded to the 
 Forfit d'Orgeres, and bricked up the entrance to 
 the old quarries. 
 
XXIV. 
 
 LOUIS THE SIXTEENTH. 
 
 rpHB present generation is far too equitable 
 -L to attribute to Louis XVI. tbe catas- 
 trophes that befel the monarchy from 1789 
 to 1792. In order to pronounce a fair yerdict 
 upon this subject a wide survey of French 
 history must be made, and it ' is necessary to 
 go back as far as the days of Francis I. and 
 Henri TV., if not to Louis XL But the 
 Sovereign most accountable for the evils that 
 fell. upon his successors is, perhaps, Louis XIII. 
 In striking a blow at the gentry and aris- 
 tocracy of his kingdom, he believed, no doubt, 
 that he was rendering the throne more secure, 
 whereas he was really uprooting its very 
 foundations. 
 
208 LOUIS THE SIXTEENTH. 
 
 Richelieu, aided by Anne of Austria, com- 
 pleted the work so unwisely begun, and, by 
 crushing the independence of the French aris- 
 tocracy, as distinguished from a mere coui-tier 
 nobility, prepared the way for a monarch 
 whose personal will was law. For, in spite of 
 the extension given by Louis XIV. to the 
 power and influence of France, in spite of 
 the literary and scientific glory of his reign, 
 his lavish expenditure and unquenchable thirst 
 for glory, his vanity and profligacy, sowed the 
 seeds of corruption and prepared the evils 
 suffered by his successors. In his reign arose 
 a courtier nobility of the most servile type ; 
 corruption and profligacy were rampant in 
 the highest places, and he left a heritage en- 
 cumbered with debt and difficulty. 
 
 The hateful and demoralizing reign of Louis 
 XV., characterised by reckless debauchery and 
 abominations of every kind, increased the 
 noxious atmosphere of the Court, and when 
 his grandson, Louis XVI., succeeded him in 
 1774, in his twentieth year, -he may well have 
 exclaimed : "0, mon Dieu, nous regnons trop 
 jeunes. Mon Dieu, guidez-nous, prot^gez notre 
 inexperience !" Such, indeed, were the words 
 that he uttered, falling upon his knees with 
 
LOUIS THE SIXTEENTH. 209 
 
 his youthful spouse, Marie Antoinette of Austria, 
 then nineteen years of age, when the news 
 came that the old King was dead. 
 
 No one will deny that Louis XYI. was 
 not prepared for a throne, by a careful pre- 
 paratory study of public business, but there 
 never was a monarch that loved goodness 
 for its own sake more than he did. This is 
 proved by the writings he has left behind him, 
 as well as by the whole course of his un- 
 fortunate career. He took the initiative 
 in the greater portion of the measures of 
 popular reform ; he recalled the Parliament ; 
 he placed his confidence in Turgot and Necker ; 
 he called together the States-General ; and 
 there was not a work of beneficence in which 
 he had not an active part. His intentions 
 were the best, however irresolute and misguided 
 he may have been, and he was uniformly 
 governed by a sense of duty. 
 
 But for more than a century and a half 
 before Loais XVI. came to the throne, the 
 materials of dissatisfaction, of discord and of 
 revolution had been gathering. Though he is 
 acknowledged to have been "the most honest 
 man of his kingdom," mere honesty was not 
 enough to stay the irrepressible spirit of 
 
210 LOUIS THE SIXTEENTH. 
 
 resistance to authority wtict had been gain- 
 ing so vastly in strength throughout the 
 previous reigns. 
 
 A number of well authenticated anecdotes, 
 not only corroborate the notion generally held 
 that Louis XVI. was deficient in firmness 
 and vigour, but that he was weak from ex- 
 treme kindness of heart, and La Rochefoucauld 
 truly says : " La faiblesse est le seul d^faut 
 qu'on ne saurait jamais corriger." At Eheims, 
 in 1775, at the time of the coronation, he 
 showed the utmost good-nature to the people 
 in numerous instances. One day that it 
 rained hard His Majesty could not walk, ex- 
 cept in the covered gallery which extended 
 from the episcopal palace to the cathedral, all 
 access to which was forbidden to the public. 
 It happened that a workman had crushed for- 
 ward to see him and was rudely pushed back by 
 one of the guards, perceiving which, the King 
 ordered the man to be allowed in and gave him 
 his hand to kiss. 
 
 One evening, at Versailles, an old officer 
 who had vainly solicited the ministers for a 
 pension on account of his long services, pre- 
 sented himself at the entrance of the supper 
 hall, and attracted the King's attention in 
 
LOUIS THE SIXTEENTH. 211 
 
 spite of the remonstrances of the courtiers 
 in attendance. " Sire !" he exclaimed several 
 times in succession. 
 
 "What is it, sir?" said the King, surprised 
 at being thus addressed at such a time and 
 such a place. 
 
 " Sire !" continued the old soldier, " I am 
 seventy years of age, I have served more 
 than fifty years, and I am dying of star- 
 vation !" 
 
 " Have you a memorandum ?" 
 
 "Yes, Sire." 
 
 " Give it to me." The King took it with- 
 out saying anything. Next morning, one of 
 the ofl&cers of the guard on duty was sent 
 by the King to bring the old soldier to him. 
 On being presented shortly afterwards, His 
 Majesty said : " Sir, I have awarded you a 
 pension of 1,600 francs from my privy purse, 
 you can go and receive the first year's allow- 
 ance which falls due this day." — (Corres- 
 pondance secrete de la Cour, regno de Louis 
 XVI.) 
 
 Madame Campan, the Queen's devoted com- 
 panion, tells us that on the 19th October, 
 1789, thirteen days after fixing his residence 
 in Paris, the King went with one or two 
 
 p 2 
 
212 LOUIS THE SIXTEENTH. 
 
 gentlemen to review a detaclinient of tlie 
 National Guard, when a youthful crossing- 
 sweeper, not recognising His Majesty, asked 
 him for money. He addressed him as "Mon- 
 sieur le Chevalier." The King gave him a 
 five-franc piece. The lad astonished at so 
 large a sum, exclaimed : " Oh, I can't change 
 that — you must give me something to-mor- 
 row," and was handing back the coin, when 
 one of the gentlemen said, "Keep it, my 
 friend, that gentleman is not Monsieur le 
 Chevalier, he is the eldest of the family." 
 (Only the younger members of the nobility 
 took the title of Chevalier.) 
 
 When the mob broke into the Tuileries on 
 the 20th June, 1792, and the gentlemen who 
 attended Louis XVI. in that anxious moment 
 drew their swords to die for him, the King 
 said, " All resistance is useless, there is only 
 one thing to be done, open the doors and 
 present ourselves calmly." He then ordered 
 Bdouard, the Swiss, to open them, and the 
 mob rushed in. Imagining that the King 
 would be hidden, the rufl&ans were dumb- 
 founded on finding themselves suddenly in the 
 presence of Eoyalty. Then they discussed 
 whether they should kill him, or lead him to 
 
LOUIS THE SIXTEENTH. 213 
 
 the Assembly to be heard. A frightful scene 
 ensued and lasted for four hours. When re- 
 peatedly told by the mob to sanction the 
 decree against the clergy under pain of death 
 or abdication, Louis replied each time : "I 
 would rather renounce my crown than par- 
 ticipate in such tyranny." Then they forced 
 him to drink to the patriots, handing him a 
 dirty bottle. " It is poisoned !" some one whis- 
 pered. " Never mind," said the King, " then 
 I shall die without giving the sanction ;" and 
 he drank without the shghtest hesitation. A 
 few moments afterwards a grenadier of the 
 Guards said to him, " They only wanted to 
 frighten Your Majesty." Taking the man's hand 
 and placing it on his heart, the King said, 
 " You feel how calm it is — one is always tran- 
 quil in doing one's duty." 
 
 On the fatal 10th of August, when a mere 
 handful of determined and devoted men could 
 have saved the Palace, and perhaps changed 
 the course of events ; but when the misguided 
 and cowardly guards deserted by hundreds, it 
 was about five o'clock in the morning that one 
 of the oJ0B.cers entered the Cabinet du Conseil, 
 where the Queen and Madame Elizabeth were : 
 *' This is your last day !" said the man, " the 
 
214 
 
 LOUIS THE SIXTEENTH. 
 
 people are the strongest — what bloodshed there 
 ■will be !" " Sir," replied Marie Antoinette, 
 " save the King, and save my children." She 
 then ran to the room where the little Dauphin 
 slept. On being awoke, the child exclaimed, 
 " Maman, pourquoi feraient-ils du mal a papa ? 
 il est si bon . . . ." At six o'clock the King 
 showed himself on the balcony, and after- 
 wards descended into the garden. The roughs 
 cried : " Down with the King — vive la Nation !" 
 The latter cry struck him, and His Majesty ex- 
 claimed, " And I also will cry : ' Vive la 
 Nation!' its happiness has always been the 
 first of my wishes ;" and when passing among 
 the guards, his good-natured face as tranquil 
 as ever, he said. " Well, they are coming — 
 what do they want? I will not separate my- 
 self from good citizens ; their cause has always 
 been my own." 
 
 When utterly forsaken and at the mercy 
 of the murderous mob, the King finally over- 
 came his repugnance (keenly participated in 
 by Marie Antoinette) to take refuge in the 
 Assembly. " Let us give, then, this last 
 mark of our love for the people," he ex- 
 claimed, ordering the gates to be thrown open 
 and all resistance to cease. In the goodness 
 
LOUIS THE SIXTEENTH. 215 
 
 of Ms heart he walked to meet his death- 
 warrant ! 
 
 A few days later, when Louis XVI. saw 
 the rapidity with which the debates at the 
 Assembly were, carried on, and the multitude 
 of decrees, he observed : " If all these decrees 
 had not been prepared beforehand, I would 
 have defied them to have made them m so 
 short a time." And when the horrible state 
 of Paris was described to him, he said, " Ah ! 
 the kingdom is lost, without any fault of mine, 
 whatever may be said about it." 
 
 That the unfortunate monarch had some kind of 
 presentiment of his tragical end appears probable 
 from the careful manner in which he studied 
 the career of Charles I. of England, long be- 
 fore things came to the dreadful crisis. He 
 read the celebrated trial more than once, 
 spoke of it often to his friends, and his constant 
 efforts were devoted during the last three years 
 of his reign, to avoid the faults which, in 
 his opinion, were the cause of the loss of the 
 Bnghsh Sovereign. Frequently he cast his 
 eyes upon the large picture by Vandyke, a 
 full length portrait of Charles I., with his 
 horse and groom in the background. This 
 picture had been bought in the reign of 
 
216 LOUIS THE SIXTEENTH. 
 
 Louis XY. by the Countess du Barri for 
 tte sum of £800, and placed by her in a 
 saloon wliere it was constantly before Ms 
 eyes. This was during the Parliamentary 
 quarrels, and it is said that Madame du Barri, 
 in showing the portrait to Louis XY., told 
 him that if he did not suppress the rebellion 
 of the Parliamentarians, they would treat 
 him as the English Parliament had treated 
 Charles I. 
 
 "Charles I.," said Louis XVI. "had many 
 more friends than we have, and more con- 
 stant friends ; he perished — what can we 
 expect . . . ?" 
 
 How true, and how characteristic were the last 
 words the King ever pronounced ! " Franpais, 
 ]"e meurs innocent — je pardonne a mes ennemis, 
 et je souhaite que mon sang soit utile a la France, 
 et qu'il apaise la colere de Dieu !" 
 
 According to Thiers the exact words were : 
 " Frenchmen, I die innocent of the crimes im- 
 puted to me, I pardon the authors of my death, 
 and I pray that my blood may not rest upon 
 France." He would have continued, but the 
 drums were ordered to beat, and drowned the 
 voice of the King in their noise. 
 
 Some of the mistakes of Louis XVI. have 
 
LOUIS THE SIXTEENTH. 217 
 
 been charged to Lis excellent Queen, Marie 
 Antoinette, but tbere is no foundation whatever 
 for such an opinion. They both erred in many- 
 things, for they were but human ; still it is im- 
 possible to attribute the errors of the one to the 
 mistakes of the other. Her enemies accused her 
 of being Austrian, and anti-national ; but when 
 in April, 1770, Marie Antoinette set out from 
 Vienna, being then only fourteen and a half years 
 old, to marry the Dauphin of France, she was 
 already thoroughly French, " toute Francaise 
 jusqu'au bout des ongles," as she says, playfuUy 
 in one of her letters. Her early married life was 
 radiant with hope ; she dreaded no danger, for 
 she felt no sin, though occasionally thoughtless, 
 or even imprudent. 
 
 The correspondence of Marie Antoinette which 
 has now been for many years before the world is 
 a true reflection of her character, and shows to 
 what an infamous degree she had been libelled 
 and scandalized. It is proved, almost to demon- 
 stration, that the reputation of the Queen was 
 never compromised either with the Count 
 d'Artois, the Count de Fersen, or any other man 
 of gallantry about the Court. That she may 
 have been imprudent in attending mask balls, in 
 acting plays, dispensing with ceremonies, and 
 
218 LOUIS THE SIXTEENTH. 
 
 stowing attaclimeiits and dislikes, may be easily 
 taken for granted, but between imprudence and 
 dishonour, ttere is a wide interval ! 
 
 The letters between the Empress Maria 
 Theresa and her daughter, which were found in 
 her private cabinet, extend from 1770 to 1780, 
 and show how fondly she loved this child 
 Antoinette, as she invariably calls her. She did 
 not delude herself as to her intellectual capacity ; 
 she did not imagine that her " darling Antoinette " 
 possessed all those qualities that make a great 
 independent sovereign, but she saw in her such 
 attributes as might make her the fairest pledge 
 of a happy alliance, fitted by her grace and ten- 
 derness to reconcile adverse parties, and by her 
 beauty and wit to charm her husband into con- 
 stant love ; whilst the purity of her life would 
 spread a glow through the tainted atmosphere 
 of the Court, and her courage and integrity fit 
 her to be the mother of Kings. 
 
 The Empress knew her daughter, but not the 
 people to whom she confided this precious jewel 
 at the early age of fifteen ; nor did she know the 
 weak good-natured Dauphin who was appointed 
 to be her guide and support, and the governor of 
 France. 
 
 Through the nresolution of Louis XVI. the 
 
LOUIS THE SIXTEENTH. 219 
 
 progress of the French ReTolution, which was an 
 evident necessity, and, under a wise direction, 
 should have been a quiet sober proceeding to the 
 achievement of constitutional liberty, became a 
 mad, furious, diabolical revolt, with death and 
 destruction for its object. 
 
 The Memoirs of Hue and those of Madame 
 Campan are full of details pointing to the 
 generosity of Marie Antoinette being equal 
 to that of her Royal Consort. In many 
 instances her charity is quite remarkable, though 
 always unostentatious. When money was sent 
 to the poor of Fontainebleau, she observed : " I 
 hope this town will not be ungrateful, as others 
 have been ; the King and I had to plunge our 
 hands deeply into our pockets to supply the 
 money needed." 
 
 Maria Theresa feared that her daughter was 
 rather too anxious to be altogether French ; and 
 in one of her letters upbraids her somewhat for 
 neglecting her own countrymen. To this, Marie 
 Antoinette replies as follows : " Je serais bien 
 fachee si les Allemands ^taient mdcontents de 
 moi ; j'avouerai que j'aurai parl^ davantage a M. 
 de Paar et au petit Starhemberg s'ils avaient 
 meilleure reputation ici. J'ai pourtant, dans les 
 temps des bals, fait venir M. de Lamberg et 
 
220 LOUIS THE SIXTEENTH. 
 
 Starhemberg, et d'abord que j'ai vu qu'ils 
 dansaient, je les ai fait danser avec moi." 
 
 The Queen's amiable character is faithfully 
 reflected in those few hues. 
 
 For the shocking details connected with the 
 imprisonment of the King and his family in the 
 Temple, we must consult that painful work : " A 
 Journal of the Occurrences at the Temple during 
 the Confinement of Louis XYI., King of France, 
 by M. Clery, the King's valet-de-chambre ; trans- 
 lated from the originaFmanuscript by R. 0. Dallas, 
 Esq. London 1798." The King's calm resigna- 
 tion and religious forbearance dehneated in that 
 book contrast most vividly with the harsh brutality 
 of the heathen mob, in whose power he was. The 
 most ardent imagination could not realize the 
 daily insults and useless cruelties to which the 
 unfortunate monarch and his family were sub- 
 jected. Cl^ry must have written his journal 
 with the tears streaming down his cheeks. 
 Even in that dreadful last interview with his wife 
 and children on the 2nd of January, the ruffians 
 did everything that could be done to annoy them. 
 At eight o'clock in the evening the King desired 
 the municipal officers to conduct him to his 
 family, from whom he had been separated since 
 the 11th of December, occupying other rooms in 
 
LOUIS THE SIXTEENTH. 221 
 
 the dingy prison. They repKed that it could not 
 be, but that his family should be brought down 
 if he desired it. 
 
 " Be it so," said the King, " but I may at least 
 see them alone in my chamber." 
 
 " No," rejoined one of them, " we have settled 
 with the Minister of Justice that it shall be in 
 the eating- room." 
 
 " You have heard," said His Majesty, " that 
 the decree of the Convention permits me to see 
 them without witnesses." 
 
 " True," replied the oJBBcer, " you shall be in 
 private ; the door shall be shut ; but we shall have 
 our eyes upon you through the glass." 
 
 " Let my family come," said the King. "We 
 will not stay to describe this bitter scene. 
 
 The evening before, the King asked Malesherbes 
 if he had not met a white lady near the 
 Temple. 
 
 " No, Sire," he replied, astonished at the ques- 
 tion. 
 
 " "What !" rejoined the^ King, with a smile upon 
 his countenance, " do you not know that, accord- 
 ing to the popular superstition, when a prince of 
 my house is about to die, a lady dressed in white 
 wanders around the palace !" When the last 
 hope of an appeal to the nation was hinted at. 
 
222 LOUIS THE SIXTEENTH. 
 
 the King shook his head, signifying that he ex- 
 pected nothing from it. His resignation and 
 courage produced the greatest impression upon 
 the venerable Malesherbes, perceiving which 
 Louis XVI. said : " The Queen and my sister will 
 show no less courage and resignation than my- 
 self ; mourir est preferable a leur sort." 
 
 On Christmas day, 1792, in his dreary room in 
 the tower of the Temple, Louis XVI. made his 
 will ; it was during the time that the infamous 
 trial was proceeding. 
 
 " I, Louis XVI. of France," writes the unfor- 
 tunate monarch, " having been more than four 
 months immured with my family in the tower of 
 the Temple at Paris, by those who were my sub- 
 jects, and deprived of all communications what- 
 ever, even with my family, since the 11th of this 
 month, involved moreover in a trial the issue of 
 which, from the passions of men, it is impossible 
 to foresee, and for which there is neither pretence 
 nor foundation in any existing law, having Grod 
 only for the witness of my thoughts, do hereby 
 declare in His Presence, my last will and the 
 feelings of my heart." 
 
 Then foUow certain devout religious senti- 
 ments, and declaration of faith, together with 
 the following remarkable passage : 
 
LOUIS THE SIXTEENTH. 223 
 
 " I have never pretended to render myself a 
 judge in tlie different modes of explaining tlie 
 dogmas tliat divide the Church of Christ ; but I 
 have ever conformed, and will ever conform, if 
 G-od grant me life, to the decisions which the 
 superior Ecclesiastics of the Holy Catholic Church 
 have made, and shall make, according to the 
 discipline of the Church adopted from the time 
 of Jesus Christ." 
 
 The passage concerning his son is still more 
 remarkable, as exhibiting in the clearest hght his 
 own ideas of royalty and its duties : 
 
 " I recommend to my son, if he should have 
 the misfortune of becoming King, to reflect that 
 he ought to devote himself entirely to the happi- 
 ness of his fellow-citizens ; that he ought to 
 forget all hatred and resentment, and par- 
 ticularly in what relates to the misfortunes and 
 vexations I have suffered ; that he cannot pro- 
 mote the happiness of a nation, but by reigning 
 according to the laws ; yet, at the same time, 
 that a King cannot enforce those laws, and do 
 the good which his heart prompts, unless he be 
 possessed of the necessary authority; for, that 
 otherwise, being fettered in his operations, and 
 inspiring no respect, he is more hurtful than 
 useful." 
 
224 WVIS THE SIXTEENTH. 
 
 Anotlier passage, the last we shall notice 
 here, alludes to the ingratitude of those who 
 had experienced nothing but the greatest kind- 
 ness at his hands : " On the one hand, if I 
 have been keenly wounded by the ingratitude 
 and disloyalty of people who have experienced 
 from me nothing but bounty ; on the other 
 I have had the consolation of seeing an 
 attachment and concern manifested by many on 
 whom I have never bestowed a favour." 
 And with regard to the ferocious brutes who 
 kept guard over His Majesty in the Temple, he 
 writes : " I also most freely forgive those who 
 were guards over me for the ill-treatment and 
 constraint they thought it their duty to inflict 
 upon me. Some there were whose souls were ten- 
 der and compassionate ; may their hearts enjoy 
 that peace which should be the reward of such 
 dispositions." 
 
 What forbearance and what goodness, if not 
 greatness, are depicted in these few Hnes ! 
 
 Among the thousands who perished needlessly 
 in the Revolution, many great men, eminent 
 iQ science, hke Lavoisier, the chemist; or in 
 literature, like Andr^ Ch^nier, the poet; many 
 eminent ministers and statesmen followed the 
 King and Queen to the guillotine. None were 
 
LOUIS THE SIXTEENTH. 225 
 
 more universally regretted, perhaps, tlian tlie dis- 
 tinguished artillery ofl&cer Chappuy de Maubart 
 whose talent was known to the whole of Europe. 
 He was offered his life if he would serve the 
 Republic. " No !" he replied, " I have never 
 fought, and never will fight, but for my God 
 and my King !" 
 
XXV. 
 
 A BANKEE IN THE REVOLUTION. 
 
 ONE of the blackest names of the Frencli 
 Revolution is that of H^ron. This fellow 
 was formerly a merchant at Marseilles, where 
 he became a fraudulent bankrupt, and ab- 
 sconded to the Southern States of America. 
 As soon as the Revolution had broken out 
 in France he returned; bringing with him a 
 forged bill of exchange of the nominal value 
 of some £6000 in English money, supposed 
 to be drawn by the Spanish Government upon 
 Havana. He went about with this bill to the 
 largest banks in Paris, in the vain endeavour 
 to get it discounted. The weU known houses 
 of Magon de la Balue, LecouteuLx and Co., 
 and several others of less importance, were 
 successively applied to, but they probably saw 
 
A BANKER IN THE BEVOLUTION. 227 
 
 througli the roguery and would not advance a 
 single sou upon the bond. 
 
 The immediate consequence of this affair 
 was that these honourable bankers, one and all, 
 were cited before the Revolutionary tribunal 
 as conspirators. This was equivalent to con- 
 demning them to death " for conspiring 
 against the Republic," and confiscating their 
 goods at once. 
 
 The two partners, Lecouteulx were incar- 
 cerated at the prison of the Conciergerie for 
 eleven consecutive months, and only escaped 
 death in the most miraculous manner : — the 
 9th Thermidor (27th July, 1794) occurred 
 before they could be sacrificed, they having, 
 in the meantime, bribed one of the judges 
 of the mock tribunal, by means of very 
 heavy sums, to place their accusation papers 
 every day underneath those of other victims, 
 so that their case was postponed, thus, from 
 day to day. 
 
 But of all these iniquitous cases, that of 
 M. Magon de la Balue is without doubt one 
 of the most interesting and the least gener- 
 ally known. For many years this estimable 
 man had been a client of Berryer, the cele- 
 brated advocate, who tells us, in his Souvenirs, 
 
 Q 2 
 
228 A BAimBE IN THE EBVOLTJTION. 
 
 in verj plain words that the real and sole 
 cause of his condemnation, and that of several 
 members of his family, was that they had 
 the reputation of being very wealthy. A 
 handful of revolutionary ruffians had persuaded 
 themselves that the residence of M. Magon 
 de la Balue, in the Place Vend6me, was 
 literally filled with gold. Their disappoint- 
 ment was converted into rage, when, on lay- 
 ing their greedy hands upon his papers and 
 breaking into his safes, they discovered that 
 he had about £75,000 in London in the 
 Bank of England, and that the rest of his 
 fortune, some similar amount, stated at 
 £72,000, had been converted into assignats and 
 was not to be found in his house. 
 
 Heron, the fraudulent bankrupt already men- 
 tioned, accused this worthy banker of " con- 
 spiring" with foreigners against the RepubHc, 
 and this infamously absurd plea was backed 
 up by a half-crazed Italian adventurer, who 
 swore that the Austrian bank had remitted 
 money to Paris for him, which had passed 
 through the hands of the banker of the Place 
 Vendome. Although there was not a single 
 word of truth in this, or, in fact, in any of 
 the other accusations, M. de la Balue was 
 
A BANKEB IN THE EEVOLUTION. 229 
 
 incarcerated, together with his daughter, 
 Madame la Marquise de St. Perne, his elder 
 brother, M. Magon de la Blinais, and his 
 grand-children. Monsieur and Madame Comulier. 
 Nor was his private secretary, M, Coureur, 
 forgotten by these villainous Communists; he 
 was also implicated in the infamous indict- 
 ment. At this time M. Magon de la Balue 
 was considerably over seventy years of age, 
 and his brother was in his eighty-fifth 
 year. 
 
 As soon as Berryer heard of the misfortune 
 which had thus suddenly smitten his worthy 
 clients, he decided without hesitation to use 
 every endeavour to get them liberated in the 
 shortest possible delay. For this purpose he 
 went directly to the house of H^rault de 
 S^chelles, who was then President of the 
 National Convention. This man was a nephew 
 of Marshal Contades, whose sister M. Magon 
 de la Balue had married; there was a kind 
 of family tie, and Berryer naturally thought 
 it would not be very difl&cult to induce this 
 relative of M. Magon to sign a release for 
 his venerable client at once. The more eo 
 as the lawyer had known him personally, 
 having met him occasionally at M. Magon's 
 
230 A BANKER IN THE REVOLUTION. 
 
 house, and had transacted legal business for 
 him in former times. 
 
 Berryer describes the President of the 
 Convention as a young man, not quite forty 
 years of age, very tall and handsome, with 
 aU the manners and appearance of a gentle- 
 man, but a professed demagogue. It was 
 with disgust and horror that he found him 
 cold to his appeal on behalf of his aged 
 clients. The paltry excuse alleged by Herault 
 de Sechelles was, that in his position as 
 President of the Convention, he would com- 
 promise himself if he took any action with 
 regard to a member of his own family. He 
 could not, or would not, save him; but 
 after every endeavour had been made by 
 Berryer, one of the most gifted of French 
 orators, to enlist his sympathies, and had 
 failed, the cowardly President gave him two 
 lines of introduction to his colleague, Dubarran, 
 a member of the Committee of Public Safety, 
 and a man from whom nothing resembhng 
 justice or generosity could be hoped. 
 
 The worthy barrister went at once to this 
 hard-hearted Revolutionist, with, as he says, 
 " more courage than hopes of success, for 
 his abominable character was too well known 
 
A BANKER IN THE EEVOLUTION. 231 
 
 to me." He found him in the meeting- 
 room of the said Committee, surrounded by 
 his villainous colleagues, seated in an atmos- 
 phere as foul and pestilential as the minds of 
 the men who were then deliberating on the 
 lives of their superiors — well known men who 
 stood before them calmly awaiting their dread- 
 ful fate, and appearing in the dim light of 
 the unhealthy room more like spectres than 
 human beings. 
 
 " I knew," says Berryer, " that the thirst 
 for blood was ardent there, that there was 
 complete absence of anything like compassion, 
 and that the consciencesi of the grossest of 
 cannibals alone dictated their decisions." 
 
 After waiting for some time, he procured an 
 audience with the feUow Dubarran, and pre- 
 sented his letter of introduction. " What !" 
 exclaimed the Member of the Committee, " you 
 are then the man who takes upon himself to 
 defend the enemies of the Republic ! aristo- 
 crats ! conspirators !" raising his harsh dis- 
 cordant voice as he pronounced each word; 
 "take my word for it, you had better forget 
 all about them and let us manage these affairs 
 ourselves." 
 
 Berryer knew at once that his errand was 
 
232 A BANKEB IN THE EEVOLUTION. 
 
 fruitless; he withdrew without attempting to 
 plead his case to such a wretch. 
 
 One morning, shortly after this occurrence, 
 as the lawyer was sitting in bitter silence, 
 ruminating over the many disasters that had 
 befallen so many of his excellent friends, a 
 man of about forty years of age entered his 
 room. He was well dressed, and had the 
 outward appearance of an honest man ; but 
 Berryer did not know him at aU. 
 
 "You are the counsel of M. Magon de la 
 Balue," began the stranger, rather abruptly, 
 " the banker who is confined with his brother 
 in the Rue des Amandiers. I come to propose 
 a method by which you can get them out of 
 prison, and conduct them safely across the 
 French frontier." 
 
 " Indeed !" said Berryer. 
 
 " They will only have to sacrifice a little 
 money," continued the other, " and that will 
 be easy enough for them to do. In the 
 lining of the dressiug-gown which he wears, 
 M. Magon has concealed some £70,000 worth 
 of assignats ; they are sewn into the lining. 
 He must give you £12,000 of this sum for 
 me; you will bring it here, and, in exchange, 
 I wUl deHver to you the three blank pass- 
 
A BANKER IN THE REVOLUTION. 233 
 
 ports wluch I tave the pleasure of showing 
 you.'" And whilst he said this, the stranger 
 brought out of his pocket three blank pass- 
 ports which he showed to the lawyer; they 
 were all three properly signed by Members of 
 the Committee of Public Safety — Robespierre, 
 Couthon, Oarnot and Barrere — and were sealed 
 with the seal of the Republic. 
 
 " I have only shown you these," proceeded 
 the unknown visitor, " in order that you may 
 certify to M. Magon that you have seen 
 them, and that my offer is bond fide. But 
 if you value your own life, you will not 
 mention their existence to any other person. 
 Go at once to your clients ; you will find 
 that the prison doors will open to you 
 when you mention your name. Do what 
 you can to induce them to accept my terms; 
 I will return here to-morrow at the same 
 hour to learn the result of your negotiation." 
 
 Having vividly impressed upon M. Berryer 
 the necessity of being extremely discreet in 
 this matter, the stranger took his departure, 
 and the worthy barrister, overwhelmed with 
 astonishment, went that very evening to the 
 prison in which his chents were confined. 
 The instant he pronounced his name the doors 
 
234 A BANKER IN THE EEVOLITTION. 
 
 flew open, and in a few moments lie found 
 himself in the presence of the two brothers. 
 "When he related the object of his visit, the 
 banker was deeply affected and nearly swooned 
 on hearing that the hiding place of his as- 
 signats had been discovered, and that he must 
 have been betrayed by some person with 
 whom he was on terms of the greatest in- 
 timacy. 
 
 After recovering from his emotion, they 
 all began to discuss the proposition as calmly 
 as possible. Nothing, however, that Berryer 
 could say, would induce either of them to 
 concede to it. The existence of the blank 
 passports was not denied, nor the possibility 
 of filling them up with the names of his 
 brother, his grandson and himself ; " but," 
 intimated M. Magon, " how do we know that 
 these passports will guarantee our safe re- 
 treat? How do we know that these same 
 brigands will not assassinate us on the road to 
 get the rest of our money ?" The brother, who 
 in spite of his great age was a man of remark- 
 ably clear intellect, was of precisely the same 
 opinion. If they accepted such a proposition, 
 he thought, they would condemn themselves, 
 whereas at present they had nothing to fear 
 
A BANKER IN THE REVOLUTION. 236 
 
 at the hands of justice Justice ! what 
 
 a term to use at such a time and amid such 
 scenes ! 
 
 In fact, all the lawyer's arguments were 
 useless. The proposition was not accepted. 
 But the worthy old banker profited by this 
 interview to inform his counsel that he was 
 very anxious to pay the wages of his servants, 
 and a few other small debts which his sudden im- 
 prisonment had prevented him discharging ; he 
 therefore begged to have his butler sent to 
 him the next day, that he might distribute 
 the money owing, and these accounts, amount- 
 ing to about £320, were thus paid, to the 
 great relief of the old gentleman's anxiety. 
 
 Punctually at the hour named the unknown 
 visitor of the day before made his appearance 
 to ascertain the result of the interview. Making 
 a polite bow, and seating himself opposite to 
 the lawyer he said. " I know you have ac- 
 quitted yourself of your mission. I under- 
 stand that you saw M. Magon and his 
 brother last night, and that you had a long 
 consultation together. Well, what have they 
 resolved upon?" 
 
 " I have found in these two men," replied 
 Berryer, "two honourable, peaceful, irreproach- 
 
236 A BANKBE IN THE EEVOLTJTION, 
 
 able members of society, who bave notbing to 
 fear, at tbe bands of justice." 
 
 "Yery well," interrupted tbe stranger, "in 
 otber terms, tbey refuse my offer? In tbis 
 case tbey wiU not be long in meeting witb 
 tbe destiny tbat awaits tbem." Tben rising 
 burriedly from bis seat, be took two steps 
 towards tbe lawyer and added : " Now, as to 
 yourself, beware bow you ever allude to tbis 
 adventure, or seek to discover wbo I may 
 be, for as sure as you make any attempt of 
 tbis sort you will not be long in undergoing 
 tbe fate tbat awaits your blind clients." 
 And witb tbese words be withdrew, a di- 
 abolical scowl playing around bis coarse 
 features. 
 
 Exactly one week later, M. Berryer entered 
 a cafe in tbe Rue Neuve des Petits Cbamps, 
 and was looking over tbe newspaper of tbe 
 day, wben bis eyes met a paragraph which 
 informed him that the Revolutionary tribunal 
 had condemned to death " as conspirators" 
 Magon de la Balue, Magon de la Blinais, the 
 Marquise St. Perne, and Cornulier. As for 
 the wife of the latter, her execution was 
 postponed as she was on the point of becom- 
 ing a mother. Tbe poor young Secretary, M. 
 
A BANKER IN THE EEVOLUTION. 237 
 
 Coureur, was condemned also to die witli tlie 
 otters. 
 
 The blade of the guillotine having done its 
 bloody work, then came the eagerly awaited 
 confiscation of the property of the victims. 
 The grandchildren of M. de la Balue (the 
 three young children of M. Cornulier) were 
 turned out of their parent's house into the 
 street, and left entirely to the mercies of a kind 
 of charwoman, who had worked occasionally 
 for the Marquise de , St. Perne. Fortunately 
 for them, this woman had imbibed from her 
 unfortunate mistress a Httle of those feelings 
 of kindness and generosity which characterised 
 the latter. She voluntarily took charge of the 
 children, actually sold her own clothes, and 
 worked hard every day to support them. She 
 continued to do so for many months, and at 
 last Madame Cornulier was enabled to reward 
 her for her generous conduct. 
 
 As for this unfortunate widow, Madame Cor- 
 nulier, who saw the days of her husband and 
 so many other members of her family suddenly 
 cut short in this frightful manner, she was 
 taken from the prison of the Conciergerie to a 
 hospital for women, established near the Hotel- 
 Dieu. There lay six ladies whose husbands 
 
238 A BANKEB IN THE REVOLUTION. 
 
 tad been executed, and who were in tte same 
 state as Madame Cornulier — among them 
 the beautiful Duchesse de St. Aignan — and 
 three others who pretended to be so, and 
 thus had their lives saved by the outbreak 
 of the 9th Thermidor, or were released by 
 the pleading of M. Pons de Verdun, who had 
 the courage to sue for the discharge of six of 
 them before the Convention. 
 
 Berryer himself, to whom we owe the record 
 of these terrible details, had also a narrow 
 escape. "When the papers of his unfortunate 
 client, Magon de la Balue, were being over- 
 hauled by a gang of ruffians, among whom the 
 aforesaid Heron was conspicuous, a packet of 
 the barrister's letters to the banker, which had 
 been scrupulously preserved, feU into the hands 
 of this atrocious character, who imagined he 
 had made a very lucky find. Doubtless he 
 thought that the legal adviser of the banker 
 would be able to say what had become of 
 all his property. But it happened that 
 among the persons present was Paste, a 
 member of the police force who was known to 
 be well accustomed to legal matters, and whose 
 voice over-ruled Huron's on this particular 
 occasion. Whether he knew the eminent 
 
A BANKER IN THE EEVOLUTION. 239 
 
 barrister by reputation, wbetber he wished to 
 avoid the trouble of the search, or whether 
 he simply desired to contradict the villain who 
 would do anything for the chance of getting 
 money, we do not know ; but he simply re- 
 marked : — " What the deuce do you think those 
 letters can teach us about the commercial 
 speculations of his client ? He only knows about 
 the quarrels of the banker with his creditors 
 or his tenants." So saying, and whilst the 
 other's attention was attracted by something 
 else, Past^ slipped the packet of letters into his 
 pocket. 
 
 M. Berryer asserts that throughout his 
 lengthened career he has always felt extremely 
 indebted to this man Paste, for the impor- 
 tant service which he did him on this critical 
 occasion. Indeed, had Heron got possession of 
 the letters, the excellent lawyer would doubt- 
 less have been dragged to the guillotine, and 
 the faithful details contained in his interesting 
 " Souvenirs " — two small volumes now long out 
 of print — would never have been given to the 
 world. 
 
 But the days of reaction and vengeance were 
 not far distant. It was not, as many suppose, 
 that the revolutionists were tired of the sight of 
 
240 A BANKER IN THE EEVOLTTTION. 
 
 blood. As long as there was a rich man to 
 execute whose goods could be got hold of, the 
 butchers would have continued their daUj 
 massacres. That which really brought about the 
 reaction of the 9th Thermidor was the discord that 
 broke out, and divided the National Convention 
 into several hostile parties who preyed upon each 
 other. Then it was that those unprincipled 
 scoundrels who had sacrificed the Hves, and 
 stolen the properties of so many great and good 
 men, were themselves placed under the blade of 
 the guillotine, whose keen edge, for once, did 
 work that was worthy of it. The wretched 
 Heron was tried and executed within one week 
 of the outbreak; for the most violent and 
 ignorant now went first ! The shouts that were 
 raised when the head of Eobespierre fell, were 
 terribly indicative of the intensity of the reaction. 
 He was executed on the 28th of July, 1794, 
 having already caused the above mentioned 
 H^rault de S^chelles, the tall handsome hard- 
 hearted young President of the Convention, to be 
 guillotined on the previous 5th of April. A 
 batch of others fell at the same time, fellows who 
 Kttle thought how soon they would follow their 
 victims to the dreaded scaffold ! 
 
XXVI, 
 
 DEATH OF THE PEINOESS DE LAMBALLE. 
 
 SCENES that were enacted in the prisons of 
 Paris have been placed on record by 
 Beaulieu, de MoUeville, Madame Roland and 
 others who kept notes and journals during the 
 most dreadful period of the Revolution. They 
 are far too atrocious to be related with any de- 
 tail in these pages, the writers of the Memoirs 
 themselves avoid allusion to many of them as too 
 horrible to be written. 
 
 The domiciliary visits, kept filling the prisons 
 with suspected persons — persons who were sup- 
 posed to be anti-revolutionists. These were 
 brought to a kind of mock trial, and executed 
 for the most part. It did not matter who or 
 what they were, all met with exactly the same 
 treatment. Marat continued publishing, in his 
 
 R 
 
242 DEATH OP THE PEINCESS DB LAMBALLE. 
 
 infamous journal, tliat 300,000 heads must fall 
 before the Revolution could be considered at all 
 consolidated. The villainous Fouquier-Tainville, 
 then all powerful, received no less than 80,000 
 francs from the hands of Madame de Rocheouart 
 as a bribe to spare a certain gentleman named 
 Morny who was accused of having emigrated. He 
 took the money, the victim was executed, and 
 the lady received a communication to the effect 
 that " if she opened her mouth about the matter 
 she would be imprisoned for life." 
 
 A few days before the horrible massacres of 
 September, Danton had sent an assignat of about 
 £100 nominal value, to the sexton of St. Sulpice, 
 with instructions to prepare at once an enormous 
 fosfte, or excavation, at Montrouge, in order to 
 bury the intended victims. And they were 
 shortly afterwards brought there — ten cartloads 
 of them ! 
 
 According to De MoUeville whose vivid 
 Memoirs bear the impress of truth upon every 
 page, Danton, Robespierre, Marat and Tallien, 
 with a few other Communists, planned the Sep- 
 tember massacres, and saw that they were duly 
 carried out. He was one of the prisoners who 
 had the rare good fortune to escape in the middle 
 of the carnage. The same authority says, some 
 
DEATH OP THK PRINCESS DE LAMBALLE. 243 
 
 three or four hundred bloodthirsty rufl&ans, 
 principally chosen among the Marseillais, were 
 the tools by which thousands of innocent folk of 
 all kinds were murdered. According to Madame 
 Roland, another prisoner, whose heroic existence 
 ended later on the scaffold, there were only fifteen 
 assassins at the Abbaye, and fifty armed men 
 would have protected each prison with the 
 greatest of ease; as to the general public it 
 looked on in dismay and did nothing. 
 
 Of the hundred and eighty-four Ecclesiastics 
 besieged by the mob in the convent of the 
 Carmelites, one hundred and fifty were massacred, 
 thirty-four managed to escape. At St. Firmain, 
 eighty-four were killed and fifteen escaped. At 
 Lyons, Nantes and other large towns, men, 
 women and children, sp called anti-revolutionists, 
 were shot down, drowned systematically, or mur- 
 dered in other ways by the revolutionary rabble, 
 and in inconceivable numbers. 
 
 The comedians of the Theatre Fran9ais were 
 confined at the prison of the Madelonettes under 
 the superintendence of a municipal guard, a 
 comic fellow named Marino, evidently a 
 southerner, who said he would send them a 
 fermier-gemral to feed them ! This same fellow 
 held the following curious conversation with the 
 
 R 2 
 
244 DEATH OP THE PRINCESS DE LAMBALLE. 
 
 wealthy M. de Crosne who was confined in the 
 same prison. Calling this gentleman forward he 
 said : " Here, my son, you wUl take care of these 
 persons," (alluding to' some newly arrived 
 prisoners, towards whom the municipal was weU 
 disposed), " I have sent to your house for some 
 mattresses, as they have nothing but straw to 
 sleep upon ; do you hear ?" 
 
 " Oui, Oitoyen." 
 
 " Sit down there." 
 
 " Oui, CitoyeD." 
 
 " You will pay for their dinners ?" continued 
 the municipal, passing his filthy hand in a coaxing 
 manner over the gentleman's cheek. 
 
 " Oui, Citoyen." 
 
 " And give them wine ?" 
 
 " Oui, Citoyen." 
 
 "And potatoes, and gigot a Vail ?" 
 
 " Oui, Citoyen." 
 
 " That fellow Jusserand will keep the bill of fare 
 and the expenses ; now, mind you don't forget !" 
 
 " Non, Citoyen." 
 
 And thus the comical dialogue ended, with an 
 amicable slap on the face from the dirty 
 municipal. 
 
 Beaulieu, from whom we have this little scene, 
 tells us that among the prisoners at the Luxem- 
 
DEATH OF THE PRINCESS DE LAMBALLE. 246 
 
 bourg were two ladies of Mgli rank, the Duch.esse 
 de Noailles, and the Duchesse d'Ayen. The first 
 of these was about eighty- three years of age, 
 quite deaf, and so weak that she could scarcely 
 walk. At meal times she was obliged, like the 
 others, to carry her own bottle and, wooden plate 
 to the common table, to get any food at all ; 
 and, as the prisoners were half starved, there 
 was generally a crowd and a crush at this time 
 in which the poor old Duchess got terribly pushed 
 about. Being too weak to withstand such rough 
 conduct, she only managed to keep her feet by 
 dragging herself along the wall of the room, and 
 never reached the table until everyone else was 
 seated. Then the gaoler would take her rudely 
 by the arm, twist her round, and push her upon 
 the bench. One day, thinking that he said 
 something, she looked up and asked : " Qu'est-ce 
 que vous dites P" 
 
 , " What do I say ?" he replied, with a coarse 
 expression, " I say that there is nobody here to 
 dangle after you, stick yourself down there !" 
 and so saying he placed the old Duchess upon 
 the bench at table just as he would have put 
 down a parcel. 
 
 The unfortunate Swiss Guards of the Tuileries, 
 taken prisoners on the terrible 10th of August, 
 
246 DEATH OP THE PRINCESS DE LAMBAILB. 
 
 1792, were all massacred in cold blood. Then 
 followed several well known magistrates, Thierry, 
 the King's valet, and other persons attached to 
 the Court. Thiers has given a concise and 
 tolerably accurate account of the September 
 murders in his " History of the French Revolu- 
 tion ;" but he necessarily passes over many 
 details both horrible and instructive. The 
 system adopted by the assassins was to sit in 
 council at one of the prisons, for instance at 
 L'Abbaye, and have the prisoners led before 
 them one by one. The judges of this mock 
 tribunal were generally two Communists with 
 scarves over their coats — " municipal guards " 
 they were termed — and some ten to twenty fel- 
 lows, more or less intoxicated and riotous, sat 
 or stood around the little table at which the 
 two municipals were seated. As a matter of 
 form some sheets of paper, with a list of the 
 prisoners' names, and a little bottle of ink to- 
 gether with a few pens that were never used, 
 lay upon the table. Outside the gate, which 
 led from this room into the courtyard or the 
 street, stood the assassins in a double row, armed 
 with sabres, pikes, and bludgeons. If it was 
 at the Abbaye, the victim was led to death out- 
 side on the President exclaiming, " Conduct this 
 
DEATH OF THE PRINCESS DE LAMBALLB. 247 
 
 man to La Force !" or, if it was at La Force, 
 the term used was, " Take him to the Abbaye !" 
 he was then led out and massacred. 
 
 In a few remarkable instances a prisoner was 
 allowed to go free ; then the President made 
 some other sign and the sans-culottes shouted 
 " Vive la Nation !" Some of them insisted upon 
 taking the liberated prisoner home to witness 
 his reception by his family ; after which they 
 returned to their bloody work. Saturday, 
 Sunday and Monday, the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd of 
 September, 1792, the massacres continued in 
 Paris, day and night, equalling in horrors all 
 that was done on the same gigantic scale in the 
 other French towns, and anything that we 
 have on any previous occasion on record in 
 history. 
 
 The beautiful Louise de Savoie, Princesse de 
 Lamballe, was born at Turin on the 8th of 
 September, 1749 ; she was a relation of the 
 King of Sardinia. Very early in life she mar- 
 ried the Prince de Lamballe, only son of the 
 Due de Penthifevre, a husband by no means 
 worthy of her. However, he died at the age of 
 twenty, she being then nineteen. When she 
 was appointed intendante of the Royal House- 
 hold of Marie Antoinette, she was already a 
 
248 DEATH OF THE PEINOESS DE LAMBALLE. 
 
 widow, young, handsome, wealthy and exceed- 
 ingly amiable. On the flight of the King and 
 his family from Paris, the Princess escaped by 
 another road frOm France to England, where 
 she might have lived in safety and happiness for 
 the rest of her days ; but when she heard of the 
 capture of the Royal family at Varennes and 
 their forced return to Paris, she determined, in 
 spite of all entreaties, to share their captivity. 
 On her arrival in August, 1792, she was as- 
 tonished at the change that had occurred in 
 the beautiful Marie Antoinette within the short 
 period of a few weeks. " Her eyes were sunk 
 deeply into their sockets, her hair was white, 
 her spirits were broken, and sleep appeared to 
 have^i forsaken her." As for the King, he ap- 
 peared to be sinking into a state of lethargy. 
 It was indeed a shocking spectacle to so devoted 
 a friend as the Princess de Lamballe. 
 
 As soon as it was decided by the mob 
 that the King and his family should be con- 
 fined in the tower of the Temple, his Majesty 
 chose M. de Chamilly, his first valet-de- 
 chambre, to wait upon him, whilst M. Hue, 
 usher of the King's chamber, was to wait 
 upon the young Prince. The Princess de 
 Lamballe, the Marchioness de Tourzel and 
 
DEATH OP THE PRINCESS DB IiAMBALLE. 249 
 
 Mademoiselle Pauline de Tourzel, accompanied 
 the Queen. Madame Thibault, Madame Bazire, 
 Madame Navarre and Madame St. Brice, four 
 of the ladies of the bedchamber, attended Her 
 Majesty, the Prince and Princesses. Such was 
 the state of things on the 13 th following the 
 10th of August, , But on the sixteenth day of the 
 King's imprisonment it was learnt that every 
 person who was in the Temple with the Eoyal 
 family had been taken up in the night, examined 
 before the Council of the Communists, and had 
 been all sent to the prison of La Force, except 
 M. Hue, who was taken back to the Temple to 
 attend upon the King. 
 
 Potion, the Mayor of Paris, afterwards granted 
 Clary's request to attend upon the young Prince, 
 and he entered the Temple on the 26th of 
 August. A few days later, M. Hue was again 
 arrested and taken away, leaving the faithful 
 valet Clery as the sole attendant upon the Eoyal 
 victims. 
 
 The deeds of blood which reached their 
 height on the 3rd of September, 1792, were 
 enacted at the prisons of Le Ohatelet, La Porce, 
 L'Abbaye, La Conciergerie, the Bernardins, 
 Saint Firmain, La ' Salp^tri^re, and Bic^tre. 
 The disbursement book of the Communists is 
 
250 DEATH OF THE PRINCESS DB LAMBALLE. 
 
 still preserved. In this atrocious document, it is 
 seen that the handful of wretches who massacred 
 between six and ten thousand persons (the exact 
 number could never be ascertained) received 
 about 24 francs a piece, or 1,463 francs (about 
 £58) in all. Efforts were made by some humane 
 souls to save the victims, and a Committee from 
 the Assembly managed to set at liberty a few 
 women and debtors. But these attempts were 
 mostly fruitless. The sufferers heard from their 
 cells the frightful shrieks and tumult outside, 
 and knew the fate that awaited them. In some 
 instances the massacres outside the gates were 
 witnessed by the prisoners from the little win- 
 dows of their cells, and they studied the best 
 positions to be adopted on meeting the sabres 
 and bludgeons, in order to die as quickly and 
 with as little pain as possible. It was observed 
 that those who raised their arms in the air, to 
 ward off the blows, died a more prolonged and 
 wretched death than others who submitted them- 
 selves calmly to the assassins. 
 
 The Princess de Lamballe and her maid were 
 confined at La Force. The above mentioned 
 Committee had succeeded in extricating four 
 and twenty women from that fearful place, and 
 this was equivalent to condemning to certain death 
 
DEATH OP THE PRINCESS DE LAMBALLE. 251 
 
 all who remained. The unfortunate Louise de 
 Savoie was among these, and the assassins 
 hired to do the bloody work at this prison were 
 even more atrocious characters, if possible, than 
 those at L'Abbaye. At the Abbaye, the 
 judges were chosen from among the executioners 
 who were already, to a certain extent, tired and 
 disgusted with their work, and with their small 
 pay. But at La Force, the two scoundrels who 
 sat in judgment were members of the Jacobin 
 Club which had authorised and planned the mas- 
 sacres, and their tools were mere hired assassins. 
 As to the proceedings, they were very similar in 
 every case. The drunken Communists had no 
 gift of imagination which might have enabled 
 them to vary their questions a little. They 
 asked the prisoners what they knew of the con- 
 spiracies of the Court, whether they swore to 
 hate the King and Queen, &c., and then pro- 
 nounced the words which were a signal for the 
 unfortunate victims to be led out to slaughter. 
 
 "When the beautiful and amiable Princess 
 Louise was led before this horrible tribunal, she 
 found herself surrounded by men whose frightful 
 countenances, and clothes stained with blood, 
 were enough to strike terror into the stoutest 
 hearts. This awful sight and the shrieks of the 
 
252 DEATH OF THE PEINCESS DE LAMBALLE. 
 
 victims outside, caused her to faint away in the 
 arms of her maid. She had scarcely recovered 
 consciousness when another series of screams 
 caused her to swoon again. 
 
 As soon as she was able to speak, one of the 
 ruffians at the table demanded whether she knew 
 anything about the conspiracies at Court on the 
 10th of August. " I am ignorant," she rephed, 
 " as to whether there were any conspiracies ; but 
 I know that I had no knowledge of any." 
 
 " Swear then," said the Communist, " swear 
 liberty and equality — swear hatred to the King 
 and Queen and to Royalty." 
 
 "lean easily swear the first," answered the 
 Princess, " but I cannot swear the last, it is not 
 in my heart to do so." 
 
 At this instant one of the fellows standing 
 near whispered to her to swear at once, other- 
 wise she was a dead woman. " Jurez done !" 
 said the man, " si vous ne jurez pas, vous 6tes 
 morte !" 
 
 This shows that even in that lowest and most 
 disgusting of all society, the charms of the 
 Princess de Lamballe had, in those few short 
 moments captivated some of the drunken assas- 
 sins ; and this instinctive attempt to save her 
 was made, probably, at no small risk to the 
 
DEATH OP THE PRINCESS DE LAMBALLB. 253 
 
 fellow wlio did it. However, slie answered not, 
 but raised her hands to her face and took a 
 step backwards towards the door as if her ner- 
 vous system had again given way. At this 
 moment, the scoundrel who had questioned 
 her pronounced the words : " Qu'on elargisse 
 Madame !" signifying in reality, " Set Madame 
 at hberty," (or at large), but they appear to 
 have been the preconcerted formula for death. 
 Two men rushed forward, seized her by the 
 arms and dragged her out of the room. She 
 had scarcely crossed the threshold before she 
 received a heavy blow on the back of the head 
 from a sword. The monsters who held her, led 
 her on nevertheless, forcing her over mutilated 
 corpses and through pools of blood towards the 
 spot where she was to be dispatched. But by 
 this time all vital power had left her, for she 
 had swooned immediately, and she fell upon the 
 ground, where the little remaining spark of life 
 which may still have lingered in her beautiful 
 frame was at once annihilated by stabbing her 
 in the throat with pikes. The dead body was 
 then stripped of its clothes, and lay exposed for 
 two hours to the brutal outrages of the drunken 
 populace. At about twelve o'clock they decided 
 to cut off the head and to cut out the heart, a 
 
254 DEATH OF THE PETNCBSS DE LAMBALLE. 
 
 cannon was loaded with one of tlie legs, and 
 what remained of the corpse was dragged about 
 the streets. 
 
 The head of the victim was stuck upon a pike 
 and the heart upon the point of a sabre, and 
 they were carried by the mob first to the Abbey 
 of St. Antoine, where they were shown to the 
 Lady Abbess, Madame de Beauvau, an old and 
 intimate friend of the unfortunate Princess, 
 after which the assassins carried them oif.in 
 procession to the Temple, with the intention of 
 showing them to the Queen, but this attempt 
 was frustrated. 
 
 On the day that this terrible catastrophe 
 occurred at the prison of La Force, the King, at 
 the Temple, rose at his usual early hour, and 
 as Cl^ry was dressing him he inquired if there 
 were any news of M. Hue, or of the commotions 
 in Paris. Clirj said that in the course of the 
 night he had heard a municipal say that the 
 people were going to the prisons, that he knew 
 nothing more, but would endeavour to learn 
 what was goin^ on. 
 
 " Take care," said Louis XVI., " not to ex- 
 pose yourself, for we should then be left alone, 
 and indeed I fear it is their intention to put 
 strangers about us." 
 
DEATH OP THE PRINCESS DE LAMBALLE. 255 
 
 At eleven o'clock, just as tlie massacre of the 
 Princess de Lamballe had been perpetrated at 
 the prison, the King, having joined his family 
 in the Queen's room, a municipal desired Gl6rj 
 to go up to the King's chamber, where he found 
 another, named Manuel. The latter asked him 
 what the King had said of M. Hue's being taken 
 away; and Clery replied that it had made His 
 Majesty very uneasy. 
 
 "He will come to no harm," said Manuel, 
 " but I am ordered to inform the King that he 
 will not return, and that the Council will put a 
 person in his place, you may go and break this 
 news to him." 
 
 Cl^ry begged to be excused, adding that the 
 King wished to see him (Manuel) with regard to 
 several things of which he was in urgent need. 
 Manuel could scarcely prevail upon himself to 
 go down to the room where the King was ; 
 however he did so, making known the order of 
 the Communistic Council concerning M. Hue, 
 and informed His Majesty that another person 
 was to be sent. 
 
 " By no means," replied the King, " I will 
 make use of my son's valet-de-chambre, and if 
 the Council object to that, I will wait upon my- 
 self — I am resolved." He added that both he 
 
256 DEATH OF THE PBINCESS DE LAMBALLB. 
 
 and his family were in great want of linen and 
 other clothing. Manuel said he would go and 
 make it known to the Council, and retired. As 
 he went out, Ol^ry asked .him if the tumults 
 continued, and his answer excited much appre- 
 hension that the populace might visit the 
 Temple. 
 
 At one o'clock the Bang and his family ex- 
 pressed a desire to walk, but they were refused, 
 as the previous day (Sunday) there had been 
 great tumults around the Temple; and when 
 the Eoyal Family walked in the garden, as usual, 
 one of the municipals was overheard to say, 
 " "We did wrong in allowing them to walk this 
 afternoon." They then went to dinner, and 
 whilst dining heard drums, and soon after- 
 wards shouts of the populace. The King rose 
 from table with much uneasiness, and they all 
 retired to the Queen's room. Clery then went 
 down to dine with Tison and his wife, the por- 
 ters or doorkeepers of the Temple. 
 
 " We were scarcely seated," he says, " when 
 a head upon the point of a pike was held to 
 the window. Tison's wife gave a violent 
 scream, which the inurderers supposed to have 
 proceeded from the Queen, and we heard the 
 savages laughing immoderately. Imagining 
 
DEATH OP THE PEINCESS DE LAMBALLE. 257 
 
 that Her Majesty was still at dinner, they 
 placed their victim in such a manner that it 
 could not escape her sight. The head was 
 that of the Princess de Lamballe, which 
 though bleeding, was not disfigured, and her 
 fine light hair still curling, waved around the 
 pike." 
 
 Cl^ry at once ran up to the King, his 
 countenance, he tells us, must have been so 
 altered by terror that it was perceived by the 
 Queen, from whom it was necessary to hide 
 the cause. Two municipals were present. 
 
 " Why do you not go and dine ?" inquired 
 Marie Antoinette; to which Cl^ry replied that 
 he was not well. At the same moment 
 another municipal entered the room and spoke 
 to his associates in a mysterious manner. The 
 King perceiving this, asked them if his family 
 was not in safety. 
 
 "It has been reported," they replied, "that 
 you and your family are gone from the tower, 
 and the people are calling for you to appear 
 at the window; but we shall not allow it, for 
 they ought to have more confidence in their 
 magistrates." 
 
 In the meantime, the clamour outside in- 
 creased, and insults addressed to the Queen 
 
 s 
 
258 
 
 DEATH OF THE PRINCESS DE LAMBALLE. 
 
 "Were distinctly heard. Presently another 
 nmnicipal made his appearance, followed by 
 four men nominally deputed by the mob to 
 ascertain whether the Eoyal family was, or 
 was not, in the tower of the Temple. One 
 of these was attired in the uniform of the 
 National Guards, with two epaulettes, and 
 holding a huge sabre in his hand. He in- 
 sisted that the prisoners should show them- 
 selves at the windows, but the municipals on 
 guard would not allow it ; upon which this 
 fellow said to the Queen in the most insolent 
 manner : " They want to keep you from see- 
 ing La Lamballe's head, which has been brought 
 here, that you may know how the people 
 avenge themselves upon their tyrants." He 
 then added immediately. " I advise you to 
 show yourself, if you would not have them 
 come up here." At these words the Queen 
 fainted away, falling in the arms of CMry 
 and Madame Elizabeth, who placed her in a 
 chair, and her children, bursting into tears, 
 endeavoured by their caresses to bring her to 
 her senses. The wretch who had been the 
 cause of this, stood looking on, when the 
 King exclaimed in a firm voice, " Sir ! We 
 are prepared for everything, but you might 
 
DEATH OP THE PRINCESS DE I.AMBALLE. 259 
 
 have dispensed with relating this horrible disaster 
 to the Queen;" whereupon the National Guard 
 slunk away with his companions. 
 
 The Queen, coming to herself, mingled her 
 tears with those of her children, and they all 
 removed to Madame Elizabeth's room, where 
 the noises of the mob were less heard. 
 Cl^ry remained in the Queen's chamber, and 
 looking out of the window through the blinds, 
 again saw the head of the poor Princess ; in 
 his opinion the crowd seemed disposed to force 
 the gates of the Temple. 
 
 It afterwards transpired that the municipals 
 who were then on guard, had much difficulty in 
 preventing the mob from rushing in, and 
 that, for the space of six hours, it was very 
 doubtful whether the Royal Family would be 
 massacred or not. At eight in the evening, 
 however, all was quiet in the neighbourhood 
 of the Temple; but not so in other parts of 
 Paris, where murders continued to be perpe- 
 trated for the next four or five days. 
 
 The Duo de Penthievre, father-in-law of the 
 Princess de Lamballe, and a man who en- 
 joyed the greatest esteem, made the most 
 extraordinary efforts to save her. As soon 
 as it was rumoured that the prisoners would 
 
 s 2 
 
260 DEATH OF THE PRTNCESS DE LAMBALLE. 
 
 be massacred, he engaged a person by means 
 of an enormous bribe, to take ber from the 
 prison during night. But the plot failed, on 
 account of another staunch friend having un- 
 fortunately succeeded in warning her by no 
 means to allow herself to be led away, as it 
 would, she was (wrongly) assured, be certain 
 death. When the agent of the Due de Pen- 
 thievre gained access to her, she absolutely 
 refused to move in consequence of this second 
 warning. 
 
 Those who would wish to have more de- 
 tails concerning the life of this unfortunate 
 person, may be referred to a little work pub- 
 lished only about ten years ago, entitled " La 
 Princesse de Lamballe, sa vie et sa mort, 
 d'apres des documents inedits par M. Lescurle." 
 On her husband's premature decease she re- 
 tired to the chateau of her father-in-law, who 
 became, in fact, a real father to her. From 
 this position she was drawn into the society 
 of the Queen, who became also devotedly 
 attached to her; and to the time of her 
 death she enjoyed the utmost confidence of 
 both Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette. 
 
 It was a man of colour named Delorme, 
 who carried the head of the victim to the 
 
DEATH Of THE PRINCESS T)E LAMBALLE, 261 
 
 Temple, and the reason why Ol^ry speaks of 
 it as not being disfigured, and the hair still 
 in curls, is accounted for by the fact that 
 the assassins had it- dressed at a perruquier's 
 on the way, in order that the Queen might 
 easily recognise it when she saw it; however, 
 she did not see it. 
 
 The two Communists who ordered the murder 
 of the Princess de Lamballe, were Hebert 
 and Lhuillier, members of the Jacobin Club. 
 The first met with his fate on the 24th of 
 March, 1794; he was executed. Thiers says: 
 " Hubert was put to open shame ; they hardly 
 cared to charge him with any political acts, 
 they contented themselves with proving that 
 he was guilty of stealing shirts and handker- 
 chiefs." On his way to the scaffold he 
 evinced the greatest cowardice, and fainted 
 two or three times. What became of the 
 other scoundrel we do not know; but Saint 
 M^ard, in his " Relation des Massacres de 
 Septembre," says of those concerned in these 
 horrible scenes, that " all who escaped execution 
 ended their days in the most abject misery." 
 
XXVIl. 
 
 LIEUTENAJSTT GOSNAY. 
 
 DUEHSTGr the latter portion of the reign of 
 LoTiis XVI. a young man of good family, 
 named Gosnay, served in the army. He was 
 at first nothing more than a private in a regi- 
 ment of grenadiers, but having raised himself 
 to the rank of lieutenant in the palmy days of 
 Eoyalty, if indeed, there ever were such days 
 in this terrible reign, he left the army in dis- 
 gust at the outbreak of the Revolution, and 
 retired to reside once more at his father's house. 
 But being still young, still of an age to serve 
 when the Repubhc was established, he was com- 
 pelled to enrol himself under its standard. 
 
 Unfortunately for this young soldier he de- 
 tested the new order of things, and spoke of 
 
LIEUTENANT QOSNAT. 263 
 
 the Revolution not only with derision but with 
 absolute scorn. Shortly after the King's death 
 when the people of Lyons, a town then full of 
 Royalists, were attacked by the troops of the 
 Convention, Gosnay, still a young, energetic 
 and courageous fel^pw, was at Chalons-sur-Sa6ne, 
 and got engaged one day in a serious quarrel 
 between some Royalists and Republicans. Swords 
 were drawn, and many of the revolutionists were 
 struck down to the cry of " Yive le Roi !" But 
 the Royalists were soon outnumbered and taken 
 prisoners, and as Gosnay had particularly distin- 
 guished himself in this affray, he was sent before 
 one of the revolutionary tribunals. He knew 
 perfectly well that nothing could save him from 
 death ; nevertheless, his natural gaiety never 
 forsook him, he did not display the slightest 
 uneasiness, but used to say (according to Beau- 
 lieu who has written a short account of him in 
 his " Bssais Historiques,") " I shall be guillo- 
 tined either to-morrow or the next day," just 
 as he might have said " I shall go to-morrow 
 to such or such a party of pleasure." 
 
 Young Gosnay was a very handsome man, of 
 easy and attractive manners, and not devoid of 
 education. He had a charming expression of 
 countenance, was naturally gifted and witty. 
 
264 LIEUTENANT GOSNAT. 
 
 and bad a most exuberant flow of spirits — but he 
 was poor. 
 
 As he could not afford to purchase. a bed, he 
 was obliged to sleep in his prison cell upon the 
 hard straw mattress, the luxury of bed-clothes 
 being unprovided by the authorities. The first 
 thing in the morning, though it was bitterly 
 cold weather, he would undress and proceed to 
 wash himself from head to foot at a water tap 
 in the courtyard of the prison. After this, he 
 put on his elegant Hussar uniform of fine cloth, 
 and proceeded to the bars of the prison gates, 
 through which he entered freely into conversa- 
 tion with the wives and relatives who came to 
 visit the other Royalist prisoners. To most of 
 them his case was well known, and they all took 
 considerable interest in the gallant young officer 
 who had so staunchly defended their cause. 
 Everything he said was listened to with the 
 utmost pleasure, and his appearance at the gates 
 of the prison was always hailed by a murmur of 
 delight. 
 
 It happened that at one of these meetings, 
 Gosnay made a vivid impression upon a young 
 and handsome lady, who from that moment took 
 the greatest interest in him. He was not long in 
 perceiving this, and it ended in the young lady 
 
LIEUTRNANT GOSNAY. 265 
 
 declaring her passion and making known at the 
 same time that she was possessed of an ample 
 fortune. 
 
 The next thing to be done was to get the 
 interesting prisoner set at liberty. The lady- 
 thought she could manage to effect this and 
 determined to leave nothing untried. 
 
 Gosnay had no political influence whatever ; 
 all that he could do was to wield a heavy sabre 
 with some effect in a charge of cavalry ; but his 
 means did not go beyond that. Moreover, he 
 was totally devoid of fortune, and could, of 
 course, do nothing in the way of bribery. 
 
 Not so, however, the fair young damsel, who 
 was now devoted heart and soul to his cause. 
 She was wealthy, and her purse procured her a 
 royal road from the doorkeeper of the revolu- 
 tionary tribunal to the no less wretched, but 
 elevated individual, Fouquier -Tainville, who 
 was at the head of affairs there. As the result 
 of this visit, it was found that neither judges nor 
 jury had any personal animosity against our 
 young Hussar, that very little importance was 
 attached either to his being saved or executed, 
 finally that he might certainly hope to be let off 
 if he only conducted himself with ordinary 
 prudence. 
 
266 LIEUTENANT GOSNAT. 
 
 It was well known, however, in the prison, 
 that this was his weak point. Prudence seemed 
 to have no existence in his mind. Returning to 
 the prison gates, his fair admirer informed him 
 of the disposition of the judges, and Gosnay 
 promised faithfully to adhere to her instructions 
 with regard to prudent conduct; but he kept 
 none of his promises. 
 
 Beaulieu (the author of the " Bssais,") who 
 was in prison with him, tells us that when one 
 of the gaolers brought Gosnay the usual sum- 
 mons-paper, he doubled it up, took it to the 
 fire and used it to light his pipe ! There was 
 not, perhaps, in the whole of France, one person, 
 however bold, that would have dared to have 
 done such a thing as this. In fact, it was 
 almost equivalent to instant death; but so 
 greatly was the young Eoyalist soldier admired, 
 not only by his fellow prisoners, but even by the 
 gaolers themselves, that on the occasion of this 
 piece of audacity, the latter actually screened 
 him by declaring at headquarters that the said 
 summons-paper had not been delivered to them, 
 or had been lost by some unaccountable neglect ; 
 so that his trial was postponed to another 
 day. The same indisputable authority declares 
 that when the next summons-paper was served 
 
LIEUTENANT QOSNAY. 267 
 
 upon Mm, Gosnaj treated it exactly in the same 
 manner ; lie took it with a scornful smile, held 
 it to the fire and lit his pipe with it ! 
 
 All this, in the eyes of many, will be con- 
 sidered nothing less than dangerous, foolhardy 
 bragadocio ; but such conduct was essentially 
 French, and met with unsuppressed admiration. 
 This time, again, the gaolers, in spite of their 
 usual barbarity, shielded him from almost instant 
 death by means of some more or less ingenious 
 excuse to the astonishment of every inmate 
 of the prison. 
 
 However, on this occasion, the other prisoners, 
 who held him in such high esteem, came forward 
 altogether, and begged Gosnay, not only for his 
 own sake, but for that of the charming young 
 lady who had interested herself so deeply in his 
 cause, to become more prudent in his conduct. 
 They all pointed out to him how useless his 
 death, however heroic, would prove to the 
 Royalist cause. He listened with respectful 
 attention to their entreaties, thanked his good- 
 natured companions for their kind interest, and 
 promised to do all that he could to induce his 
 judges to be lenient towards him. 
 
 His companions in captivity then invited him 
 to breakfast with them the next morning; it was 
 
268 
 
 LIEUTENANT GOSNAY. 
 
 the day on -whicli he was cited to appear before 
 the revolutionary tribunal, at the hour of eleven. 
 During the breakfast no one could have been 
 in gayer spirits than Gosnay ; there was nothing 
 forced or artificial in his manner, he was en- 
 tirely himself, and kept his companions in roars 
 of laughter the whole time. 
 
 At last the sad moment arrived to take 
 leave of them. He then rose from the table 
 and embraced his jovial companions one by one, 
 after which he said in a clear ringing voice. 
 " My dear friends, you have given me an excel- 
 lent breakfast in this world, I will go and pre- 
 pare a supper for you in the next — give me your 
 orders." With these words on his lips he fol- 
 lowed the gendarmes out of the prison. 
 
 The young lady's visits to the higher func- 
 tionaries had evidently made some impression. 
 Neither the Public Accuser nor the President of 
 the Tribunal appeared to treat Grosnay with that 
 persecuting rigour which characterised their 
 demeanour towards the generality of the victims 
 brought before them. But the gallant young 
 soldier spoilt everything by his audacious be- 
 haviour. He did not take the slightest pains to 
 shield his conduct or his opinions ; he refused 
 absolutely to avaU himself of answers that were 
 
LIEUTENANT GOSNA^. 269 
 
 almost put into his mouth by the judges, them- 
 selves ; and when his advocate began to plead 
 for him, the spirited Royalist, as if indignant 
 at the idea of having to plead at all before such 
 scoundrels, interrupted him abruptly : 
 
 " Sir, yoa who are the ofl&cial defendant in 
 this case, I beg you will not defend me, and 
 you, Pubhc Accuser, do your wretched work— 
 give your orders to send me to the guillotine !" 
 
 This was, indeed, little short of mania. The 
 fair lady, who was present at the trial, fainted 
 awav at these dreadful words, and was carried 
 out of the Court by her relatives; she was 
 in a state of insensibility when the verdict 
 of death was pronounced against the hand- 
 some and intrepid young officer whom she 
 had fondly looked upon as her own; whom 
 she had every reason to believe she had saved, 
 and whom she expected to see set at liberty, 
 and raised, by her efforts, from a life of hard- 
 ship and misery, to perfect happiness ! 
 
 He passed through the courtyard of the 
 prison with a kind of triumphant air, smiling, 
 and waving his hand to his companions. 
 When about to mount into the fatal cart 
 that was waiting to carry him to the place 
 of execution, he beckoned to a gaoler named 
 
270 LIEUTENANT GOSXAY. 
 
 Rivifere, wlio had shown him some kindness 
 during his stay in the prison, requested him 
 to bring a little brandy, and drink half of it 
 with him out of the same glass. "I should 
 imagine," he said, " that you owed me a 
 grudge, if you did not comply with this 
 modest request." Gosnay's jovial manner did 
 not forsake him for an instant. 
 
 The annals of the Eevolution contain several 
 cases very similar to that we have just re- 
 lated. Hundreds of distinguished men were 
 so utterly disgusted with the new state of 
 things, that life was no longer of any im- 
 portance to them. On learning the death of 
 the King, more than one officer died of 
 grief, the librarian Yente lost his reason, and 
 a 'perruquier of the Rue St. Catherine com- 
 mitted suicide. We have already referred to 
 the energetic reply given by the distinguished 
 artillery officer, Chappuy de Maubart, when 
 he was offered his life if he would serve the 
 Republic. 
 
XXVIII. 
 
 THE MEMOIRS OE MADAME EOLANP. 
 
 A MONG- tlie women of the great Revolution, 
 ■^ Madame Eoland forms a sublime figure, 
 never to be forgotten. It was she who dic- 
 tated to her husband, during his first Ministry, 
 that celebrated letter to the King which is 
 given entire in Thiers' History. If Louis XVI. 
 had only possessed sufficient foresight to have 
 'taken it to heart and acted according to its 
 instructions, what a different future would 
 have been in store for him and for France ! 
 
 Like Charlotte Corday, Marie Antoinette, 
 the Princess de Monaco, and so many other 
 beautiful and accomplished women,* Madame 
 
 * It is a striking fact that nearly all the more prominent 
 female victims of the Revolution were women particularly dis- 
 tinguished for their personal attractions ; we need only mention 
 
272 THE MEMOIRS OF MADAME EOLAND. 
 
 Roland was one of the victims of these dis- 
 astrous times, who excites the most compas- 
 sionate interest. She was alike distinguished 
 for her beauty, her great talents, her pure 
 patriotism and her elevated character. The 
 influence which she exercised upon the more 
 moderate section of the Republicans, the 
 fortitude with which she bore her infamous 
 imprisonment, and the bold, admirable manner 
 in which she met her tragic fate, have con- 
 tributed to make her name popular through^ 
 out the world. Madame Roland was, without 
 doubt, one of the finest characters of this 
 period of history, and a fair representation 
 of what was best in the party that over- 
 threw the monarchy. In the prejudices of 
 that party she fully shared, and her " Memoirs" 
 speak of Louis XVI., and of his political in- 
 tentions in terms which history has certainly 
 not ratified. On the other hand, she adhered 
 to the party of the Girondists, sharing their 
 
 Qneen Marie Antoinette, the Princess de Lamballe, Madame 
 Eoland, Madame Camille Desmoulins, the Princess de Monaco, 
 Charlotte Corday, all beautiful women ; but there were many 
 others for whose names we have no space here, who combined 
 great physical beauty with moral courage and intelligence. 
 
THE MEMOIES OF MADAME ROLAND. 273 
 
 abhorrence of the Jacobin excesses, and was, 
 consequently, lost with them in their fall. 
 
 Born in Paris on the 18th of March, 1754, 
 this celebrated woman was the child of Phlipon, 
 the engraver. In her "Memoirs," she speaks 
 chiefly of her mother with the tenderest 
 affection and respect, and as having en- 
 couraged her to study. At a very early age 
 Marie Phlipon had an extraordinary love of 
 books, and was naturally of a religious dis- 
 position. When only eleven, she went to a 
 convent to prepare for her "first communion," 
 and there made the acquaintance of a girl 
 named Sophie Canet, which afterwards proved 
 a very strong attachment. The frequent 
 letters to this intimate friend have been 
 published, and form a tolerably complete 
 history of her life, up to the date of her 
 marriage with Roland. The correspondence 
 then ceased, at her husband's urgent request 
 (on account of differences in political opinion, 
 it is said), and Madame Roland, in after years, 
 states that this act on the part of her husband 
 was " ill-judged." But the bond of affection 
 was by no means severed, for we find Sophie's 
 sister, Henriette, coming to the St. Pdlagie 
 prison, where her dear friend was incarcerated, 
 
 T 
 
274 THE MEMOIRS OF MADAME ROLAND. 
 
 and offering to die in her place. Henriette 
 was then a widow and had no children; 
 Madame Roland had a husband, already ad- 
 vanced in years, and a charming daughter. 
 Her friend's wish was to exchange clothing 
 with her, and to remain in the prison while 
 she escaped ; but her entreaties were fruit- 
 less. 
 
 "But they would kill you," was the reply 
 she got, "your blood would be upon me. 
 Rather would I die a thousand deaths than have 
 to reproach myself with yours !" 
 
 During her youth, nothing particularly strik- 
 ing occurs to break the monotony of her 
 studious life tUl the year 1775, when, to her in- 
 describable grief, her mother died, and her 
 father's depraved and cruel conduct compelled 
 her to leave home. It was whilst thus living 
 in solitude, and overwhelmed with grief and 
 anxiety that Marie Phhpon received, and some 
 time afterwards accepted, a proposal of mar- 
 riage from M. Roland, who succeeded in gain- 
 ing her affection, though many others had 
 attempted it in vain. They were married 
 early in 1780, Roland being twenty years 
 older than his wife, a man of learning and 
 severe moral principle, but accused by some 
 
THE MEMOIRS OP MADAME ROLAND. 275 
 
 of being egotistical and somewliat pedantic. 
 At tWs time lie was Government- Inspector of 
 Arts and Manufactures, and an author. His 
 handsome young wife took the keenest in- 
 terest in his hterary pursuits, and afforded 
 him considerable assistance in his writings. 
 When he afterwards became a Minister, she 
 could not, of course, take part in the adminis- 
 trative portion of his duties, but if there were 
 a circular to be despatched, a series of in- 
 structions, or an important paper to be drawn 
 up, they invariably conferred together on the 
 subject and she usually confided their ideas 
 to paper, " having more time to wield the 
 pen than he had." With all this she prided 
 herself upon never neglecting her household 
 duties. 
 
 Eoland was born in 1732, at Le Olos de 
 la Plati&re, twelve miles from Villefranche, of 
 an ancient and noble family, and, in spite of 
 his Republican principles, he was proud of 
 his descent. He was the youngest of five 
 brothers, and was educated for the church. 
 Not liking this profession, he went to Rouen 
 where one of his relatives, a M. Grodinot, was 
 inspector of manufactures, and proposed to 
 him to follow this branch of administration. 
 
 T 2 
 
276 THE MEMOIRS OF MADAME EOLAND. 
 
 Becoming soon distinguished for his talents 
 and industry, the government bestowed upon 
 him a similar post at Amiens, the town in 
 which Sophie Canet's family resided. It was 
 on a visit to the house of Madame Canet in 
 1776, that Roland first heard of the lady who 
 was destined to become his wife. " The 
 conversation ran upon an extraordinary young 
 lady in Paris, Mademoiselle Phlipon, and 
 Roland asked for a letter of introduction 
 to her," we are told. When they afterwards 
 met, he found her mourning her mother's 
 death; affliction gave to her lovely features 
 the greatest charm. She was then in her 
 twenty first year, and Roland, though double 
 her age, felt an irresistable attraction for 
 her. On her part she considered him respect- 
 able rather than captivating, and was inclined to 
 reject his advances. At this time Roland had 
 just returned from travelling in Germany, 
 and being about to visit Italy, requested per- 
 mission to leave all his papers in Marie 
 Phlipon's charge during his absence. This 
 mark of esteem produced a regard which 
 ended in a closer union. Whilst in Italy, he wrote 
 letters to her addressed to a convent to which 
 she had retired, and sent her through the 
 
THE MEMOIRS 01' MADAME ROLAND. 277 
 
 medium of his brother, a Benedictine Prior, 
 his " Observations on the Men, Manners and 
 Manufactures of Italy," a work which was 
 afterwards published. On his return to Trance, 
 he married her in spite of her dissipated father's 
 opposition. 
 
 The .first year of their marriage was spent in 
 Paris, devoted to literary and scientific labours 
 in which the young wife took a share ; she copied 
 her husband's manuscripts, corrected his proofs, 
 and went through a course of study in Natural 
 History, devoting much time to Botany, of which 
 she appears to have been especially fond. The 
 next four years were spent at Amiens, (where her 
 only child, Eudora, afterwards Madame Champag- 
 neux, was born), still assisting her husband in his 
 literary work, he being then engaged upon the 
 celebrated " Encyclopedia," of which a consider- 
 able portion was confided to him. They lived a 
 most devoted life, never quitting their study but 
 for rural enjoyments, during which Madame 
 Roland made a herbarium of the plants of 
 Picardy, and wrote a small treatise on Botany. 
 
 In 1784 this happy and industrious couple re- 
 moved to Lyons, and resided some time at La 
 Platifere, near Villefranche, M. Eoland's birth 
 place. This same year they also visited England 
 
278 THE MEMOIBS OP MADAME EOLAND. 
 
 and made numeroiis frienda among the scientific 
 and literary men of tlie day. In 1787 they 
 travelled tlu-ougli Germany, and, on the death 
 of M. Roland's mother, went to reside per- 
 manently at Le Clos de La Platifere, where 
 they pursued their useful labours, and where 
 Madame Roland devoted herself to the welfare 
 of the poor, acting as friend and physician to all 
 the peasantry for miles round. 
 
 At last the fatal year of the revolutionary 
 outbreak arrived, 1789 had come, and with it 
 a serious illness ; Roland was attacked by a 
 violent fever, and his young wife saved his life 
 by her devoted attention ; she remained at his 
 bedside for six consecutive nights without ever 
 changing her clothes, and nursed him assiduously 
 during many long months of convalescence. 
 Then the fearful Revolution burst forth. Friends 
 of humanity and adorers of hberty, both husband 
 and wife fondly hoped, with millions of others 
 throughout Europe, that the period for ameliora- 
 ting the condition of mankind was at hand, 
 and that the miseries of the lower orders in 
 France, which they had so often lamented 
 and contributed to relieve, were about to 
 terminate. 
 
 At Lyons, Roland found two sets of people 
 
THE MEMOIRS OP MADAME EOLAND. 279 
 
 among his friends at this period. One class, 
 accustomed to the selfish calculations of com- 
 merce, could not see why he should applaud 
 those changes by which the lower classes alone 
 were likely to benefit. Another, the patriots, 
 rejoiced to find a man of good family and for- 
 tune attached to their cause, and at once elected 
 him one of their officers. They soon sent him 
 on a mission to the National Assembly. 
 
 This occurred in December, 1791 ; the inspec- 
 torship of arts and manufactures being abolished, 
 Eoland, with his wife and daughter went to 
 Paris on the mission in question. There he soon 
 became intimate with the celebrated Brissot, (who 
 was afterwards executed on the- 30th of October, 
 1793, with the other Girondists) and joined the 
 Jacobin Olub, before it had lost all moral re- 
 straint, becoming, with his wife's assistance, 
 extremely active as a member of the Corres- 
 ponding Committee. 
 
 Nothing could exceed his, nor Madame 
 Roland's, surprise when, on the 24th of March 
 1792, he was appointed Minister of the Interior 
 by Louis XVI., who had determined to try to 
 govern with a popular ministry. It is generally 
 \ thought that Roland was quite unfit for so im- 
 portant a post, and during his short tenure of 
 
280 THE MEMOIRS OP MADAME EOLAND. 
 
 office he appears to have weakened the monarchy. 
 Kor did he strengthen it by Shis resignation. 
 Two months later, on the dreadful 10th of 
 August, the people stormed the Tuileries, the 
 King fled for refuge to the National Assembly 
 and was deposed ; the revolution was triumphant, 
 and Roland was reinstated Minister of the 
 Interior. 
 
 But the times were changed. They had be- 
 come terrible, and the post of Minister was more 
 fuU of difficulties and responsibilities than ever. 
 With the best intentions, Eoland was powerless 
 as a leader of men. It is doubtful whether the 
 greatest statesman that ever lived could have 
 checked the ruffianly spmt of the mob. It would 
 have required a man of decision, fertile in ex- 
 pedients, firm and prompt in action ; instead of 
 which we find Roland issuing sententious cir- 
 culars, and delivering pedantic speeches whilst 
 the mob was butchering the inmates of the 
 prisons ! 
 
 Nevertheless, it should be remembered that by 
 protesting against that which he could not pre- 
 vent, he exposed himself to almost instant death. 
 In this duty Madame Roland took a noble part. 
 The charms of her conversation, and the noble- 
 ness of her sentiments had won her great esteem 
 
THE MEMOIRS OP MADAME EOLAND. 281 
 
 amoDg her husband's political friends, the 
 Girondists. This influence she made immense 
 use of against the Jacobins who had authorized 
 the September murders, and it was not long 
 before she had enlisted all honest, conscientious 
 men against these ruffians. But, unfortunately, 
 the legislature was weak and the murderous Com- 
 mune all powerful. The fall of the Girondists 
 came, and with it, that of Roland. Already he 
 had resigned his post of Minister, " which he 
 considered it a dishonour to hold any longer." 
 In spite of his resignation, however, the Com- 
 munists got his arrest decreed by the Revolu- 
 tionary Committee on the 31st of May, and he 
 fled to Rouen. 
 
 Madame Roland made no attempt to escape. 
 While she thought it quite right that her 
 husband should avoid the popular fury, she 
 says: 
 
 " As for me, their interest to do me harm 
 could not be so great ; to kill me would be an act 
 so detestable that they would not care to incur 
 its odium One of two things must hap- 
 pen — either I am only in danger of an imprison- 
 ment and of a judicial procedure, which I shall be 
 able to render useful to my country and to 
 my husband ; or, if I must die, it will only be in 
 
282 THE MEMOIRS OP MADAME EOLAND. 
 
 an extremity in which life will be hateful to 
 
 me." 
 
 We must refer to her celebrated " Memoirs," 
 and " Letters," more especially to the latest 
 editions of these voluminous writings edited by 
 M. Dauban, for all the details of her imprisonment, 
 the cruel farce of her release and recapture, the 
 respect with which she inspired even the 
 lowest characters, the favours which her 
 gracious conduct procured from the gaolers, 
 though she never stooped to ask a favour 
 frona any of her persecutors, nor did she 
 cease to speak to them with the utmost 
 contempt. The atrocious Revolutionary tribunal 
 actually trembled lest her eloquent voice should be 
 heard at the trials of the Girondists. Most 
 ■remarkable indeed, was her fortitude under such 
 undeserved adversity, and truly admirable was 
 the serenity of mind with which she wrote her 
 " Memoirs " in the narrow precincts of an 
 odious prison. Lastly, she went to the scaffold 
 (at the early age of thirty-eight!) in a 
 manner of which a Eoman or a Spartan 
 might have been proud, and her aflBicted 
 husband committed suicide on hearing of this 
 dreadful catastrophe. 
 
 In the latter years of her life, Madame 
 
THE MEMOIRS OP MADAME EOLAND. 283 
 
 Roland appears to have indulged in a platonio 
 affection for Buzot, a well known proscribed 
 Girondist, which was reciprocated though he was 
 also married. 
 
 The letters which passed between them only 
 came to light a few years ago. In the last 
 trials of a troubled and excited existence they 
 appear to have effectually sustained each other's 
 courage. Buzot had been one of the most 
 ardent Girondist members of the National Con- 
 vention, and a frequent guest at Roland's 
 house — one of the most distinguished salons 
 of Paris in 1792. When the "Memoirs" were 
 being written, he was a fugitive from Paris, 
 striving to raise the provinces against the 
 ruffians of the capital. 
 
 The " Memoirs " of Madame Roland were 
 written in the few painful months of her 
 captivity. They were not only composed under 
 great difficulties, but with great difficulty 
 preserved, and a portion, unfortunately, perished 
 in the flames. This accounts for their frag- 
 mentary character. They consist of a very 
 interesting account of her early life, a sketch 
 of her husband's public career, and her own 
 opinions of the doings of the Communists, 
 which she describes with abhorrence up to 
 
284 THE MEMOIRS OE MADAME ROLAND'. 
 
 the last moment. Her style is extremely 
 frank and fluent, somewhat pretentious, 
 and at times indiscreet. The recent French 
 editions of M. Dauban and M. Faugere are 
 much more complete than the older edition of 
 1796 by Bose, in which many passages appear 
 to have been suppressed. M. Faugere, was on 
 intimate terms with Madame Roland's daughter 
 (Madame Ohampagneux) and obtained from 
 her a correct copy of the original " Memoirs," 
 which he published. On her death, this lady 
 left the MS. to the Imperial Library at 
 Pai-is, where M. Dauban had access to it, 
 and has also published an annotated edition 
 of the "Memoirs," as well as a "Study" on 
 Madame Roland. {Vide xxxii.) 
 
 In speaking of the little room in which she 
 was imprisoned at L'Abbaye, this heroic woman 
 says that her arrangement of it, her flowers, and 
 her books, excited the astonishment of all who 
 happened to visit the place. She never thought 
 that it was destined to be occupied a little later 
 by the Girondist Brissot, and soon afterwards by 
 " a heroine worthy of a better century — the 
 celebrated Charlotte Oorday." 
 
 Her second imprisonment was at the St. 
 Pflagie, where she was allotted a miserable cell, 
 
THE MEMOIRS 0¥ MADAME ROLAND. 286 
 
 surrounded by others filled with criminals and 
 women of tlie lowest cliaracters, whose coarse 
 language reached her all day long. She says 
 of it :— 
 
 " Voici done le sejour qui ^tait r^serv^ a la 
 digne dpouse d'nn homme de bien ! Si c'est Ik 
 le prix de la vertu sur la terre, qu'on ne s'^tonne 
 done plus de mon m^pris pour la vie et de la 
 resolution avec laquelle je saurais affronter la 
 mort. Jamais elle ne m'avait paru redoutable ; 
 mais aujourd'hui je lui trouve des charmes : je 
 I'aurais embrass^ avec transport si ma fiUe ne 
 m'invitait a ne point I'abandonner encore." 
 
 These lines are a good illustration of her style, 
 and of her bold character, which she never belied, 
 even at the foot of the soafiold. 
 
 Without being a striking beauty, Madame 
 Roland was certainly interesting. Her face was 
 perfect in form, with large dark eyes full of 
 expression. She was tall, and her figure 
 extremely elegant; her voice was as charming 
 as her eloquence was grand. Thiers says that 
 she combined all the graces of a Frenchwoman 
 with the heroism of a Eoman matron ; and that 
 verdict will be endorsed by all who study her 
 life. 
 
XXIX. 
 
 THE MAN WHO NBVEE LOST HIS TEMPER. 
 
 A NGBR, according to Clarendon, is the most 
 ■^-^ impotent passion that develops itself in 
 the mind of man : " it effects nothing it goes 
 about, and hurts the man who is possessed by 
 it more than any other against whom it is 
 directed." There is, doubtless, a considerable 
 amount of truth in those few words. Yet, how 
 rarely, in the whole annals of mankind do we 
 meet with an individual who never, under any 
 circumstances, loses his temper ; and how little 
 should we expect to meet with such a character 
 in the passionate times of Louis XVI ! 
 
 It was in the course of a quiet evening at 
 Madame Necker's, that the following very 
 curious episode in the life of the Genevese 
 
 philosopher, M. Abauzit, came to light. There 
 
THE MAN WHO NEVER LOST HIS TEMPER. 287 
 
 ■were present on this occasion, besides the 
 Minister Necker and his distinguished daughter 
 Madame de Stael, already well known in the 
 literary and political world, several eminent 
 persons, among others the poet Marmontel, M. 
 de La Harpe, la Marquise de Blot, and Madame 
 de Barbantane. The Duchess d'Abrantfes has 
 left us a short but interesting account of the 
 occurrence. 
 
 " But who is this M. Abauzit whose name has 
 been so frequently mentioned ?" exclaimed 
 Madame de Blot, " what sort of a man is he ?" 
 
 " He is a Genevese, resident in the neighbour- 
 hood of Paris," replied La Harpe ; "and, more- 
 over, he is an intimate friend of Madame l^ecker. 
 But she herself must tell you all about him, it 
 is only fit for an angel to exhibit the qualities of 
 a philosopher, the more so as there are no saints 
 in his religion." 
 
 Abajizit was, in fact, like most Genevese, and 
 like Madame Necker herself, a Protestant ; and 
 this direct allusion by La Harpe to the angelic 
 disposition of the Minister's invalid wife was no- 
 thing more than she deserved. 
 
 " But you cannot have forgotten what Eous- 
 seau has written about him?" said Madame 
 Necker, turning to the first speaker. " Rousseau, 
 
288 THE MAN WHO NEVER LOST HIS TEMPEE. 
 
 long ago, made him celebrated in Greneva; do 
 you not recollect what lie has said of him ?" 
 
 " I assure you," said Madame de Blot, "that 
 his name is quite unknown to me; I cannot 
 imagine in what way this person has become so 
 famous." 
 
 " It is," rejoined Madame Necker, " by the 
 exercise of a virtue which is already very rare 
 among us, and is becoming more so every day. 
 If Monsieur Abauzit had lived in the times of 
 Epictetus, he would have been duly appreciated 
 and honoured, but now-a-days, the virtuous con- 
 duct which distinguishes him begins to be re- 
 garded as little less than weakness." 
 
 " Ah ! now I remember the gentleman of 
 whom you are speaking," said Madame de 
 Barbantane. " Yes, it can be no other than the 
 quiet, philosophical little man I saw coming out 
 of your house the other day. Do tell us some- 
 thing about him." 
 
 " Yes, mother," added Madame de Stael, 
 "relate your anecdote of M. Abauzit, it is per- 
 fect ; and you tell it so well !" 
 
 Thereupon the guests all grouped themselves 
 round Madame Necker, who forthwith related 
 the following anecdote : — 
 
 " You must know," she began, " that M. 
 
THE MAN WHO NEVER LOST HTS TEMPER. 280 
 
 Abauzit is a man who never in the whole course 
 of his life got into a passion ; he never allowed 
 his temper to get the better of him ; and was 
 NEVER known to be angry with anybody or 
 anything. During the whole course of his 
 placid existence the calm of his dignified honest 
 countenance has never once been interrupted by 
 any passionate emotion akin to anger or bad 
 humour ; but his friends, much as they esteeme4 
 him, could not be made to believe in such an 
 uniformity of good temper. They protested that 
 he had not been, like other men, subject to any 
 severe trials ; and felt assured that his ordinary 
 calm manner would certainly yield, on the occur- 
 rence of any very disagreeable circumstances. 
 
 " They went so far as to make a bet among 
 themselves that such would be the case, and 
 proceeded to consult his housekeeper upon the 
 subject. 
 
 " This worthy old woman had been thirty 
 years in her master's service, and almost adored 
 him. She thought over all his weak points that 
 she was well acquainted with, and, at last, 
 declared, solemnly, that she did not see any way 
 in which the bet could ,be won — she' had been 
 thirty years in his house and had never seen him 
 once in a passion. 
 
290 THE MAN WHO NEVUB LOST HIS TEMPER. 
 
 " ' Not once in thirty years !' exclaimed the 
 friends ; ' that is rather too much for our powers 
 of credulity ! it is simply impossible ! not one 
 single little burst of temper in the whole thirty 
 years ! Think over it, my good woman ; confess 
 that he has been once angry, at least.' 
 
 " ' But I cannot tell an untruth,' she replied. 
 
 " ' Well, teU us how we can vex him ; tell us 
 how he can be put into a passion. We like him 
 as much as you do, as you are well aware ; but, 
 we have determined to effect our purpose, and 
 you must assist us — you will be rewarded. Most 
 people are diflB.cult enough to please, but your 
 master appears to be just as difficult to vex !' 
 
 " Thereupon, a long consultation took place 
 between them on the most probable method of 
 causing M. Abauzit to lose his temper. After 
 considerable time ha,d been expended upon fruit- 
 less propositions of every kind, old Marguerite 
 thought she had discovered a means by which 
 the desired effect could, perhaps, be produced. 
 ' But,' she added, ' I really do not see why you 
 should wish to deprive my master of his ordinary 
 peace of mind, even for one moment.' 
 
 " ' What does it matter ?' said the friends, 
 ' we are just as fond of him as you are.' 
 
 " ' I am not so sure of that,' she hinted. 
 
THE MAN WHO NEVER LOST HIS TEMPER. 291 
 
 " ' "We tell you we are, and we will make it 
 all right afterwards ; pray do not be uneasy on 
 that score. Well, what have you thought 
 of?' 
 
 " ' This is it,' said Marguerite, ' if there is 
 one thing that my master likes better than 
 another it is to sleep well, to have a comfortable 
 bed. He has been accustomed to this all his 
 life. Now, what I propose, you see, is not to 
 make his bed in the morning, and then I'll say 
 I forgot it.' 
 
 " The expedient appeared admirable,, and it was 
 decided that this wonderful outburst of genius 
 in the mind of the old servant should be put into 
 a practical form without delay. In the mean- 
 time, in order to assist matters, the friends 
 agreed to take M. Abauzit a long walk during the 
 afternoon, so that he should be thoroughly tired 
 and ready for bed when he returned home. He 
 was, in fact, very tired when he dragged his 
 weary limbs to his bed-room, and prepared to 
 take that repose which, at certain intervals, 
 nature prescribes for us all. On turning to his 
 bed he found it was not made ! . . . . 
 
 " The next morning he called to the house- 
 keeper, ' Marguerite, it appears that you forgot 
 
 u 2 • 
 
292 THE MAN WHO NBVEE LOST HIS TEMPER. 
 
 to make my bed yesterday, try and not forget it 
 to-day.' 
 
 " Soon after the friends arrived, all anxious 
 to hear the result of the strategy. ' All he said.' , 
 the old servant informed them, ' was that I was 
 to try and not forget his bed to-day.' 
 
 " ' But you will forget it !' they ejaculated, 
 ' remember your promise, and we shall reward 
 you well for all your trouble.' 
 
 " The next day the same thing occurred. M. 
 Abauzit returned after a long walk, dreadfully 
 tired, went into his room, and found his bed 
 just as he had left it. 
 
 " On risiug in the morning he called up Mar- 
 guerite. 
 
 " ' Marguerite,' he said in his usual quiet man- 
 ner, ' you have forgotten again to make my bed, 
 do have the goodness to think of it.' 
 
 " "When the friends arrived a second time and 
 learned all that had happened, they could not 
 suppress their astonishment, and it was with 
 great difficulty that they persuaded old Margue- 
 rite to continue her tactics for one day more. 
 After much persuasion, however, she at last 
 consented. The bed was left uninade for the 
 third time. 
 
 " In the morning, M. Abauzit met her upon 
 
THE MAN WHO NEVER LOST HIS TEMPER. 293 
 
 the stairs, and wittout raising the ordinary tone 
 of his voice, he said : 
 
 " ' Marguerite, you never made my bed yester- 
 day ; it appears that you have decided not to 
 make it any more, perhaps you find it too 
 fatiguing. However, there is no great harm in 
 it, for I am beginning to get accustomed to 
 it.' 
 
 " At these words the old servant could keep 
 the secret no longer. She burst into tears, 
 begged his pardon, and told her master the 
 whole story. Whether he suspected, or not, 
 that all this was done for a purpose, we do not 
 know, but the fact remains that his temper was 
 never ruffled in the . slightest degree, and, 
 whether patience or good-nature, it is a feature 
 worthy of figuring in the life of Socrates." 
 
 In causing M. Abauzit to take a long walk 
 every day, his friends went b6yond the bounds 
 of reason; for, it cannot be doubted that the 
 worthy old gentleman would have found his un- 
 made bed less pleasant had he been less fatigued. 
 In their extreme anxiety to accomplish the ridi- 
 culous task which they had undertaken, they 
 went so far as to act against their own inte- 
 rests, as most people do under similar circum- 
 stances. 
 
294 TBE MAN WHO NEVER LOST HIS TBMEEB, 
 
 Madame de Stael, althongli she enjoyed hear- 
 ing her mother relate the little anecdote, always 
 looked upon this plot as a most iniquitous at- 
 tempt upon the peaceful character of the 
 estimable M. Abauzit. 
 
XXX. 
 
 THE ITALIAN OPERA. 
 
 r T was in the reign of Louis XVI. that Italian 
 -*■ Opera became established in France. Already 
 for some years past-the irresistible Italian music 
 had found a home in London and Vienna; but 
 the French capital had been content with its own 
 composers, who certainly shone with great bril- 
 liancy at this period. 
 
 Resides the celebrated Tuscan violinist, Viotti, 
 who was conductor of the French Opera just 
 before the commencement of the Revolution, there 
 were in Paris two very distinguished Italian 
 composers, Piccini and Cherubini ; and very few 
 years elapsed before Spontini and Paisiello a^r- 
 rived and firmly established themselves there. 
 The Italian Opera had not in those days a per- 
 manent house in Paris, as at present, but it was 
 
296 THE ITALIAN OPEEA. 
 
 soon to acquire one. The influence of the sweet 
 cantabile and rich, fioritura of the southern artists 
 had made itself felt so deeply throughout Europe 
 that even Paris itself was about to create an 
 Italian Opera. In spite of its great number of 
 eminent French composers, whose names we 
 have mentioned in a former chapter, and in 
 spite of Grliick and his German influence, aided 
 by the rapidly rising popularity of Mozart, no- 
 where was Italian music niore enjoyed than in 
 Paris. 
 
 Just before the Revolution we find Cherubini 
 endeavouring to combine the Italian and Grerman 
 styles of composition (in some instances success- 
 fully, in others much less so) to suit the prevail-, 
 ing taste of the more enlightened French citizens, 
 so that at a certain moment- there were in Paris 
 three distinct characters of music ; the pure 
 Italian of Piccini, the pure German of Gluck, 
 and a kind of mixture of these in some compo- 
 sitions of Cherubini. A good mixture of Italian 
 and German would, it was thought, produce a 
 superior kind of French music, and Cherubini 
 had naturaHzed himself a Frenchman, or at least 
 he had, like Rossini in more modern times, taken 
 up his residence permanently in Paris. Whether 
 he gave any thoughts to politics or not is very 
 
THE ITALIAN OPERA. 297 
 
 questionable, but he was an aristocrat if any- 
 thing; though for no less than three years he 
 lived under the same roof as his celebrated com- 
 patriot, Viotti, who was an utter republican. 
 
 In the introduction to my "Biographical 
 Sketches of Celebrated Yiolinists," I have shown 
 how it came to pass that Italian music should 
 have exercised this wonderful influence upon the, 
 whole of the lyric and dramatic world. 
 
 It was not imtil close upon the outbreak of 
 the Revolution that Italian opera got a perma- 
 nent theatre in Paris. It was early in 1789 that 
 Leonard, the perfumer to Queen Marie Antoi- 
 nette, a man of considerable wealth, obtained, 
 through her influence and good-nature, a license 
 to open a theatre for Italian opera. He at once 
 despatched Viotti to Italy in order to engage 
 singers for it. The great violinist returned after 
 having secured the services of Yiganoni, Man- 
 dini, Mengozzi, Revedino, Raffanelli (a splendid 
 actor) and the two prime donne Morichelli and 
 Banti. We have given, in a previous chapter of 
 the present work, an account of the manner in 
 which the last named most brilliant singer was 
 discovered some ten years previously. Signora 
 Baletti, who had already made a distinguished 
 debut at the Concerts Spirituels, was also en- 
 
298 THE ITALIAN OPEEA. 
 
 gaged. Several o£ these eminent artistes sang 
 afterwards in London, where Viganoni and 
 Banti were particularly popular. 
 
 The entire company was placed under the 
 patronage of the elder brother of Louis XVI., 
 Monsieur, Comte de Provence (afterwards 
 Louis XVIIL), and the Theatre de Monsieur, as 
 the early Paris ItaHan Opera was termed, duly 
 opened in one of the great halls of the Tuileries 
 on the 26th of January, 1789. The Itahan 
 troupe went by the name of the " Troupe de 
 Monsieur," or sometimes by that of the 
 " Bouffons," the French mode of designating the 
 performers of Opera Buffa. 
 
 They sang in the works of Cimarosa, PaisieUo, 
 Guglielmi and others, with great success. 
 Cherubini, who had by this time become recog- 
 nised as a young composer of very great merit, 
 was made director of the troupe, and had to 
 arrange the pieces and assign parts to the 
 singers, after writing arias and cadenzas to 
 be introduced into the various works performed. 
 He sometimes led the orchestra; but the task 
 usually fell to the lot of Mestrino, a most accom- 
 plished musician, who died in 1790, when 
 Puppo, the violinist, succeeded him. 
 
 Among the operas performed we may mention 
 
THE ITALIAN OPERA. 299 
 
 Paisiello's "La Molinara," Guglielmi's "La 
 Pastorella Nobile," Cimarosa's " L'ltaliana in 
 Londra," Gazzaniga's " II Don Giovanni Tenario," 
 besides many others. These were greatly ad- 
 mired by Louis XYL, who attended many of 
 the performances; and the same may be said 
 of Anfossi's " Viaggiatori felici." 
 
 At this time the concerts of the Loge Olym- 
 pique were warmly patronised by Marie An- 
 toinette, who granted the Loge an apartment 
 at the Tuileries for the performances. It was 
 there, in 1789, that Madame Todi sang with 
 such great success the scena : " Sarete alfin 
 content!, " written expressly for her by Cheru- 
 bini. 
 
 These great musicians never dreamed 
 of the dreadful times that were at hand, 
 for we find that in 1790 Cherubini began an 
 opera for Louis XVI., to be performed at the 
 Tuileries. The work was entitled "Marguerite 
 d'Anjou;" but the progress of the Eevolution 
 prevented its performance, and the composer 
 retired for a short time into Normandy, return- 
 ing shortly before the King was escorted by 
 the furious mob from Versailles to Paris. 
 
 The Revolution was, of course, a fearful 
 event for the Italian artistes, and with it poor 
 
300 THE ITALIAN OPERA. 
 
 Cherubini's hopes became almost as clouded as 
 those of the monarch himself. His connections 
 and patrons all belonged to the aristocracy, and 
 now they were finding, refuge in emigration or 
 being murdered daily upon the scaffold. 
 
 We have an interesting and authentic account 
 of this great composer from the pen of that 
 eminently conscientious writer, Mr. BeUasis 
 ("Memorials of Cherubini.") His lot, at this 
 time, was that of many men who followed a 
 similar career. During the first five years of 
 anarchy he suffered many privations; his very 
 livelihood became precarious; he was forced to 
 live in great seclusion, " passing his time in 
 studying music, the physical sciences, botany 
 and drawing," limiting his acquaintance to a 
 few trustworthy friends only. In early life 
 Cherubini had taught himself to play a little on 
 the violin, and this proved the means of saving 
 his life in the hour of danger. 
 
 To stir out of doors was more or less of a risk 
 to anyone who had been accustomed to frequent 
 aristocratic circles. Numerous and reckless mobs 
 paraded the streets day and night. Once, how- 
 ever, on an occasion of extraordinary excite- 
 ment, we are told, Cherubini fell into the hands 
 of a band of sans culottes, and they determined 
 
THE ITALIAN OPERA. 301 
 
 that he should lead them, and conduct their 
 horrible songs. When he refused, they began 
 shouting, " A has I Varistocrat !" and would, no 
 doubt, have killed him, had not one of his friends 
 at this particular moment thrust an old violin 
 into his hands and persuaded him to save his life 
 by leading the mob. The whole day long Oheru- 
 bini and his fellow musician were compelled to* 
 accompany the hoarse yelling of the infuriated 
 ruffians, and when, at last, a halt was made for 
 refreshments, they were obliged to stand on empty 
 barrels and play whilst the Communists feasted. 
 
 But besides this annoyance, he was enrolled in 
 the National Guard, a circumstance which en- 
 tailed the custody of prisoners and escorting the 
 unfortunate victims to the bloody scaffold. He 
 would gladly have quitted such scenes of horror ; 
 but he was engaged as leader of the Italian 
 Opera till the year 1792, and, in the next place 
 it was no easy matter to evade the vigilance 
 of the officials in any attempt to escape from 
 French territory — in case of failure it was al- 
 most certain death. 
 
 When Louis XVI. was brought by the mob 
 from Versailles to Paris, the Italians had to 
 leave their quarters at the Tuileries. They went 
 to the Salle Nicolet near the Foire St. Germain, 
 
302 THE ITALIAN OPERA.- 
 
 and tlieir Opera house was tlien called Theatre de 
 la Foire St. Grermain. Garat, the famous French 
 tenor, had joined the troupe ; indeed, a French 
 company now got incorporated with the Italians, 
 and in 1791 the house was transferred to the 
 Theatre Feydeau. 
 
 In spite of the troubles of the epoch and the 
 disastrous state of Paris, it is astonishing what 
 a number of pieces were produced, and how 
 much music was performed there between the 
 years 1789 and 1800. There were no less than 
 twenty-five theatres (besides concert rooms) of 
 which about five were opera houses. In 1791 
 Cherubini and Yiotti were installed with their 
 Italian artistes at the Theatre Feydeau. Mehul 
 reigned supreme at the Theatre Favart; but 
 the Parisian world also rejoiced in listening 
 to the excellent compositions of Gretry,* Piccini, 
 Spontini, Gossec, Monsigny, Philidor (the great 
 chess player, and composer of numerous popular 
 operas) Steibelt, Gliick, Boieldieu-^who was just 
 beginning his career — and the gifted young Lieu- 
 tenant Dalayrac. 
 
 However, a single year brought about great 
 changes in the political horizon, and in 1792 it 
 had become so menacing that the Italians decided 
 
 * Gretry was a Belgian artiste, born at Li^ge. 
 
THE ITALIAN OPERA. 303 
 
 upon taking tteir departure. Viotti, thoroughly 
 disheartened, fled to London, where this eminent 
 musician, the greatest violinist of his day, began 
 business as a wine merchant ! 
 
 When the unfortunate King mounted the 
 scaffold in 1793, Cherubini -had already taken 
 refuge at a friend's house near Rouen, only to 
 return when things had become more pacific. 
 
 It is curious to note that in January, 1796, 
 Cherubini, formerly one of the ma-ny proteges 
 of Marie Antoinette, presided at a musical 
 party to celebrate the anniversary of the death 
 of Louis XVL, and directed the perforniance 
 of a chorus in which might be heard the oath of 
 hatred to Royalty ! 
 
 But then he was compelled to compose a 
 quantity of revolutionary music, and, of course, 
 his profession demanded that the composition 
 should suit the words., whatever his private 
 sentiments might have been. Later still, we 
 find him writing music to Royalist Couplets, 
 and to the words : Vive le Boi ! 
 
XXII. 
 
 THE LAST DATS OF CONDOECET. 
 
 FROM a purely scientific point of view, the 
 eighteenth, century is the most remarkable 
 period with which we are acquainted. Never 
 was there a time at which discovery and ob- 
 servation proceeded so rapidly and with such 
 astonishing results. Revolution was the order 
 of the day in science as well as in politics and 
 rehgion. Lavoisier, whose name has been 
 rendered immortal no less by his wonderful 
 chemical discoveries, his theory of combustion 
 and respiration, which laid the foundations of 
 modern chemistry, than by his atrocious mar- 
 tyrdom on the scaffold, was one of the greatest 
 philosophers of this wonderful age. His con- 
 temporaries in almost every country of the 
 civilized world, incited by his zeal, were scarcely 
 
• THE LAST DAYS OP CONDOECET. 305 
 
 less active in. the career of research ; and it would 
 require several volumes to give even a sketch of 
 the innumerable hidden secrets of Nature that 
 were, during this eventful period, successively 
 unfolded to mankind. 
 
 ' Franklin, in America, was drawing down the 
 lightning from the storm-clouds and proving it 
 to be identical with electricity.* Gralvani in 
 Italy was investigating the muscular movements 
 of frogs' limbs, when his wife Lucia called his 
 attention to the extraordinary electric action 
 which occurs in this case; it resulted in the 
 discovery of "galvanism," the basis of our 
 present electric telegraph; it incited Volta, his 
 contemporary, to imagine the electric battery 
 that bears his name, and was destined to per- 
 form such marvellous things, leading, indeed, to 
 the belief that the secret of life had, at last, 
 been discovered. In the same country, Spallan- 
 zani was making the most curious experiments 
 and describing, by means of his microscope, a 
 new world of minute beings, invisible to the 
 naked eye, (and not long before discovered by 
 the learned Dutchman, Leuenhoek.) His friend 
 
 * An account of this wonderful discoTery and several others 
 alluded to in the text, has been given in my recent work, 
 " Familiar Letters on some Mysteries of Nature, &c." London, 
 1876. 
 
306 THE LAST DAYS OP CONDOEOET. 
 
 and correspondent Bonnet, of Greneva, was in- 
 vestigating the ptysiology, of plants, tlie curious 
 "alternate" propagation of certain insects, the 
 extraordinary reproduction of the limbs of 
 lizards and snails' heads; Trembley having 
 already noticed that the hydra, or fresh-water 
 polyp, reproduced parts of its body that were 
 cut away. Black, in Scotland, made known the 
 nature of carbonic acid and the composition of 
 limestone, a discovery most fruitful in conse- 
 quences and of the greatest use to Lavoisier. 
 Sch^ele, in Sweden, put in evidence numerous 
 new substances of immense interest ; Phipson, 
 in Birmingham, discovered and investigated the 
 malleable properties of zinc at certain tempera- 
 tures, thereby rendering this curious metal 
 applicable to a multitude of uses ; whilst Watt, 
 having removed from Glasgow to that town, 
 joined with Boulton and Eoebuck to develope his 
 discovery of the steam engine, which was to 
 produce a revolution in men's affairs. Priestley 
 was also then in Birmingham, writing on his 
 celebrated discoveries of " different kinds of air." 
 Botanists and geologists were travelling over 
 vast continents, collecting a useful store of facts 
 to add to the comforts of mankind, whilst Paris, 
 and the other large towns in Prance, were 
 
THE LAST DATS OP CONDORCBT. 307 
 
 steeped in blood — whilst the foremost scientific 
 man of his day, and one of the most solicitous 
 for the good of others, the illustrious Lavoisier, 
 was mounting the steps of the scaffold. 
 
 We have not mentioned one quarter of the 
 eminent men, each of whom during the reign of 
 Louis XVI. contributed his quantum to the 
 great stock of practical knowledge acquired by 
 diligent study and research. Whilst the young 
 Alexander von Humboldt was still a student at 
 the University of Grottingen, Dolomieu, the 
 French geologist, (after whom the rock 
 "Dolomite" was named,) was pursuing his 
 scientific researches on Mont Blanc and the 
 Appennines, leading a most romantic life, be- 
 strewn with diflSculties, writing his mineralogical 
 essays in prison at Messina, upon the pages of 
 his bible, and proving the volcanic nature of 
 basalt, which was to decide the discussions of 
 the geologists of that day, and prepare the way 
 for the great German savant. 
 
 There were, in fact, five great movements 
 going on in France almost at the same moment : 
 In Politics, between the Republicans and the 
 RoyaHsts ; in Music, between the Gliickists and 
 the Piccinists ; in Geology, the Neptunists and 
 the Yulcanists ; in Chemistry, the Phlogisticians 
 
 X 2 
 
308 THE LAST DATS OF CONDOEOBT. 
 
 and the AntipUogisticians ; and in Philosopliy, 
 the Theologians and the Rationalists, all striving 
 for the first place. 
 
 Condorcet was "perpetual Secretary" of the 
 Academy of Sciences in Paris, a most honour- 
 able position, which placed him in communication 
 with all the eminent scientific men of the day. 
 But his mind turned more towards philosophy 
 and politics than to science in the abstract. He 
 was also one of the forty members of the French 
 Academy (literature), and a voluminous writer. 
 Born in Picardy in 1743, Marie Jean Antoine 
 Nicolas Caritat, Marquis de Condorcet, was forty- 
 five years of age when, in 1787, the first glimpses 
 of the great catastrophe dawned above the 
 political horizon of the capital. He came of a 
 good family, deriving its name from the ances- 
 tral Chateau of Condorcet in Dauphiny, and was 
 educated by his uncle, the Bishop of Lisieux, 
 who bestowed every care on his studies and 
 found him many powerful friends and protectors 
 to make up for his want of fortune. For Con- 
 dorcet was never rich ; and, moreover, was a man 
 of great probity of character, which goes far 
 to account for the extraordinary nature of his last 
 days. 
 
 He married Sophie de Grouchy, (sister of the 
 
THK LAST DATS OF OONDOECET. 309 
 
 well-known Marechal), one of the most beautiful 
 women of her day, and exceedingly clever ; but 
 a violent republican, who exercised no small 
 influence on her husband's career. She it was, 
 indeed, who induced him, when a member of the 
 Chamber, to propose the " abohtion of titles." 
 Though a thorough man of the world, who shone 
 brilliantly in society, Oondorcet was never re- 
 garded as a very profound thinker or writer, in 
 comparison with his illustrious contemporaries. 
 His posthumous work " Bsquisse du progrfes de 
 r esprit humain," is fgenerally considered the 
 best of his writings, though it is charac- 
 terised by a revolting materialism throughout. 
 In spite of this tendency, however, the Marquis 
 was an upright man, and his intentions were of 
 the best. The society -vfhich frequented his 
 drawing-room numbered many distinguished in- 
 dividuals, and was composed of some of the most 
 honest men of the period. There were the two 
 brothers Turgot, Suard, Malesherbes, the Abb^ 
 Morellet, the Abbd Soulavie, (author of the 
 "M^moires,") Marmontel, Helv^tius, d'Alem- 
 bert, the Due de Lauraguais,* and several 
 
 * The friend of Lavoisier and of Sophie Amoult, in con- 
 junction with the great chemist he made many remarkable 
 experiments, among others that of the combustion of the dia- 
 mond, thus proving it to be crystallised carbon. 
 
310 THE LAST DAYS OF CONDOECET. 
 
 eminent members of the Academy of Sciences. 
 This society suited his wife's tastes as well as his 
 own, and the most agreeable evenings were 
 passed in reading papers or notes, not only on 
 scientific discoveries, but also on subjects con- 
 nected with Hterature and the fine arts. Madame 
 de Condorcet was an authoress, among other 
 writings of hers we may observe that she trans- 
 lated from the Enghsh the well known work of 
 Adam Smith, and enriched it with many valuable 
 notes. 
 
 Condorcet had a remarkably expressive coun- 
 tenance, a vast and prominent forehead, small 
 but sparkling eyes, a rather large aquiline nose, 
 and a mouth about which there played, occa- 
 sionally, a calm, but decidedly sardonic smile. 
 His speech was hesitating, somewhat sarcastic 
 at times, and invariably sensible and witty. 
 His manners were modest and reserved, even 
 cold, but his mind was on fire, and beneath that 
 glacial forehead glowed a fierce heat of thought. 
 " Do not deceive yourself," said d'Alembert, one 
 day, to a friend who was speaking of Condorcet, 
 " he is a volcano covered with snow," With aU 
 this, his disposition was eminently good, and he 
 was equitable or just in all that he said, did, 
 or wrote. His writings are very numerous; 
 
THE LAST DATS OF CONDOEOET. 811 
 
 among the best were a series of articles contri- 
 buted to two papers, " La Feuille Yillageoise" 
 and the " Chronique de Paris." His ' ■ Life of 
 Voltaire," and " Life of Turgot," also won him 
 much literary fame ; and his " Memoires" are full 
 of wit and anecdote. 
 
 As regards science, he was a mathematician, 
 and several of his mathematical works claim for 
 him a very distinguished place in the scientific 
 world of his day; he was elected "perpetual 
 Secretary" of the Academy of Sciences, prin- 
 cipally on the strength of his excellent bio- 
 graphical work, " Eloge des Academiciens morts 
 depuis 1699." No man in Paris had a stronger 
 impression of the honest motives of Louis XVI., 
 and yet he lowered himself to vote on 
 the side of those who desired to kill their 
 King ! We have the strongest proof that Oon- 
 dorcet acknowledged Louis to be an honest man. 
 After being present, one day, at a Cabinet 
 Council in 1790, he supped with his relative, 
 Madame Dupaty, (widow of the President of the 
 Parlement of Bordeaux,) to whom he described 
 what had occurred, and how the views of the 
 commissioners present coincided with those of 
 His Majesty. " I can certify," said Cordorcet, 
 in his usual tremulous and uncertain voice, " I 
 
312 THE LAST DAYS OF CONDOECET. 
 
 can certify that Louis XYI, is a very clever, and 
 an honest man, for everything that he said to 
 us respecting the welfare and tranquillity of Paris 
 and of the provinces, could only have been 
 known and said by a good prince." Those 
 were the very words of a man who afterwards 
 voted for the death of the King ! But what an 
 end was in store for Condorcet himself ! 
 
 As he belonged to the section of the 
 Girondists, and was a staunch friend of 
 Brissot, Vergniaud and others, Condorcet with 
 his upright and severe principles sided, of 
 course, witL them, and abhorred the blood- 
 thirsty maxims of Eobespierre and his crew. 
 His speeches and writings were quite 
 suflBcient to get him "proscribed" by the 
 stronger and infamous party, and he fled, 
 addressing to his wife a letter in which he 
 explains his position in two lines of verse, 
 signifying that having to choose between being 
 an oppressor or a victim, " he chose the 
 latter, and its misfortunes, leaving crime to 
 his adversaries." 
 
 He took refuge in the house of an old 
 and valued friend, Madame Yernet, where he 
 remained securely hidden for no less than 
 eight months. But, one day, on glancing 
 
THE LAST DAYS OF CONDOECEr, 313 
 
 over a newspaper, lie found that it had 
 become punishable with death to shelter a 
 " proscrit." He resolved, at once, t© quit her 
 roof. He did so in the night, during her 
 absence from home, and wandered away out- 
 side Paris, not knowing where to rest his 
 head. For several days he sought an asylum, 
 first in one place then in another, sleeping at night 
 in the Quarries at Montrouge, or in the wood 
 of Verrieres, hiding himself in the picturesque 
 neighbourhod of Clamart, or in that of Fon- 
 tenay aux Eoses, the name of which secluded 
 spot, within a short distance of Paris, is. no 
 less beautiful than the place itself even at the 
 present day. 
 
 Suard and his wife, old and staunch friends 
 of Condorcet, lived at Fontenay aux Eoses (as 
 the poet Florian had done before them.) 
 The unhappy " proscrit " remembered his visits 
 to them with his own young and beautiful 
 wife, as fair as the flowers around. Then 
 his thoughts turned to his daughter whom he 
 loved more fondly still. But he had voted for 
 the death of the King ! and since that time 
 Monsieur and Madame Suard had become 
 strangers to him. 
 
 In spite of this, Condorcet decided upon 
 
314 THE LAST DATS OP OOKDOECET. 
 
 knocking at their door. His forlorn appear- 
 ance and tattered clotlies rendered him almost 
 unrecognisable, and some moments of anxious 
 uncertainty elapsed before lie could make him- 
 self known. " Give me some bread," lie ex- 
 claimed, " I am dying of hunger !" Suard re- 
 cognised the voice. He immediately found an 
 excuse for sending his only servant into the 
 vUlage on an errand, then turned round and 
 embraced his unfortunate companion. He 
 brought in some bread and cheese, and some 
 wine; and after having partaken of this 
 Condorcet could relieve his mind of a burden 
 that oppressed him. He acknowledged Suard 
 to be his best friend; he beseeched him to 
 watch over and befriend his beloved daughter ; 
 he gave him a sum of six hundred francs to 
 be delivered to Madame de Condorcet, and at the 
 same time made him fully acquainted with the 
 frightful nature of his position. Finally, he 
 entrusted to Suard the MS. work which he 
 had left at the house of Madame Vemet (the 
 posthumous work already alluded to), and begged 
 him to see to its publication. 
 
 In the next place, they discussed together as 
 to the possibility of obtaining a passport from 
 Paris, which would enable Condorcet to gain the 
 
THJii LAST DAYS 01' CONDOEOET. 315 
 
 coast and embark. It was arranged that Suard 
 should proceed at once to Paris, and endeavour 
 to obtain from some of their former friends a 
 letter that would enable the unfortunate author to 
 escape the tyranny of the Communists, and that 
 Condorcet should return to fetch the letter the 
 next day. Before leaving, he asked Suard, as a 
 last favour, to give him some snuff and a 
 copy of Horace. These requests being complied 
 with, he left the house, apparently happy, in 
 spite of his wretched position, having found 
 a sincere, trustworthy friend. 
 
 On quitting the comfortable little house at 
 Fontenay aux Roses, Condorcet took his course 
 towards the limestone quarrries, in which he 
 remained hidden for the rest of the day. He 
 was to return for his passport the following 
 morning. 
 
 In the meantime Suard went to Paris, and 
 obtained without much difficulty the desired 
 documents, namely, an invalid pass, to which 
 he added another, obtained from the celebrated 
 Dr. Cabanis, an old friend of Condorcet, signify- 
 ing that the invalid was returning home after 
 leaving the hospital where he had been under his 
 (Cabanis) care. This certificate alone was better 
 for the purpose than any official passport. 
 
310 THE LAST DAYS OF OONDOEOET. 
 
 When Condorcet reached the quarries he 
 found that he had only taken one piece of 
 bread in his pocket, and towards evening he 
 became desperately hungry. In spite of the 
 danger, he decided upon making his way to a 
 low tavern at Clamart, near the woods. In this 
 secluded tavern, when he entered, there were 
 only two persons besides himself ; a woman, the 
 hostess of the place, and a man. The latter 
 happened to be one of those wretched individuals 
 who grovel in the lowest depths of society, and 
 who are ever on the alert to make some sordid 
 gain, even by selling the blood of one of their 
 own comrades in misery. The individual in 
 question was not a government spy, but a 
 voluntary spy, ready for tbe sake of a few cop- 
 per coins to compromise the first person he met 
 with.. The unfortunate Condorcet — just as he 
 was about to procure a safe exit from the 
 country — had fallen unawares into a den of the 
 worst description. His dishevelled hair, his 
 uncouth appearance, were well calculated to 
 attract attention anywhere. The ruffian in the 
 tavern never took his eyes from him ; but sat 
 motionless examining his every gest and feature, 
 from the moment he entered. Condorcet was 
 ravenously hungry, besides being ^broken down 
 
THE LAST DAYS OF CONDORCET. 317 
 
 by fatigue from his walk, and want of rest. 
 The anxiety of his position told upon his intel- 
 lectual features, tanned by exposure to the air, 
 and his characteristic hesitation of speech was 
 more pronounced than usual. Whilst he de- 
 voured an omelette which he had ordered, he 
 did not perceive that the man and woman 
 above named were in earnest conversation about 
 him.* As he finished the last mouthful, the 
 woman approached him and said in a brutal 
 manner : " Pay me for what you have 
 had." 
 
 Condorcet, without reflecting, drew from his 
 waistcoat a little white satin pocket-book, em- 
 broidered with silk. In those days of assignats, 
 the pocket book had replaced the ordinary purse. 
 At the sight of this elegant little article, both 
 the hostess and her ruflfianly companion were 
 struck with amazement. 
 
 " Who are you ?" demanded the voluntary 
 spy in an insolent manner. 
 
 After a moment's hesitation, which was fatal 
 
 * The author of a recent work entitled " Five Years' Penal 
 Servitude/' says that a prolonged residence in prison taught 
 him that humanity was composed of three distinct classes of 
 beings, " men, women, and beasts." The two individuals men- 
 tioned in the text would evidently have come under the latter 
 category. 
 
318 THE LAST DAYS OP COEDOEOET. 
 
 to him, Condoroet replied that he was in the 
 service of M. de Sejour — using the name of one 
 of his friends, a member of the Academy of 
 Sciences. This distinguished philosopher who 
 was also a counsellor at the Cour des Aides, was 
 a particular friend of our " proscrit," so that 
 the latter could answer any questions that might 
 be put to him regarding the household to which 
 he asserted that he belonged. However, his un- 
 decided manner of speech, heightened the sus- 
 picions of the depraved lout who was acting as 
 spy, and very little time elapsed before he found 
 himself arrested and conducted to the police 
 office, of the district, at Bourg la Reine, where 
 he could give no more satisfactory account of his 
 social position, and was, accordingly, thrown 
 into prison as a vagabond. 
 
 On leaving Suard's hospitable door, Condorcet 
 had made a curious speech to his friend, with 
 reference to the infamous rascals by whom he 
 and the other proscribed Girondists were pur- 
 sued. He said : "I do not fear them as long 
 as I am an hour a-head of them." Suard did 
 not understand the exact meaning of these 
 words. 
 
 The morning after his imprisonment (24th of 
 March, 1794) he was found dead in his cell. 
 
THE LAST DAYS OF COEDORCET. 319 
 
 He had taken a poison composed of stramonium 
 and opium, prepared for several eminent men 
 of tids period by their friend Dr. Cabanis, be- 
 fore mentioned. The Archbishop of Sens had 
 used it to avoid the scaffold. It was known 
 as the Poison of Cabanis, and before the dis- 
 covery of prussic acid, was the most subtle and 
 least painful of all known poisons. It pro- 
 duced death, resembling apoplexy, within an 
 hour, and without the slightest sufEering. This 
 celebrated poison was composed of a powerful 
 extract of Datura stramonium, or thorn apple, 
 combined with opium of the finest quality; 
 it formed a little brown ball about the size 
 of a child's marble ; the proper dose was pre- 
 scribed upon a slip of paper, in which it was 
 enveloped. Condorcet carried this poison upon 
 his person since the hour of misfortune had 
 overtaken him. The surgeon who was 
 called to the prison to examine the body of 
 this " unknown man" did not hesitate to 
 pronounce that he had died in the night 
 from a fit of apoplexy. The same verdict was 
 pronounced upon the Archbishop. It has been 
 stated upon very good authority that the Em- 
 peror Napoleon I. carried the same poison 
 upon his person for a long time, and that he 
 
320 THE LAST DAYS OP CONDOKCET. 
 
 used it at Fontainebleau, but without success, 
 owing perhaps to a faulty preparation or to a 
 mistake in the dose. The wife of the Mardchal 
 Junot, the talented Duchess d'Abrantes has 
 stated this in her " Memoirs," but it is never- 
 theless open to serious doubt. However the 
 effects of such a poison may have been uncer- 
 tain occasionally, they would depend entirely 
 on the care bestowed upon its preparation; 
 stramonium and opium being considered some- 
 what antagonistic in their action upon the 
 economy. 
 
 Thus died Condorcet on the 24th of March ; 
 and on the 5th of April following, the chiefs of 
 his party, Danton, Camille Desmoulins, H^rault 
 de Sdchelles, Lacroix, Philepeaux, Fabre d'Eglan- 
 tine and Chabot, were all executed in the course 
 of a few hours. Without the dose of stramonium 
 he would have shared their fate. To Condorcet's 
 " Memoirs" we are indebted for one or two anec- 
 dotes contained in this work. No one was better 
 acquainted with the misery which surrounded 
 those who, unlike himself, had succeeded in gain- 
 ing foreign shores. In the streets of London, 
 he tells us, whilst the King Louis XVI. was a 
 prisoner in his own palace, a camel might be 
 seen led about by an old man, followed by a boy 
 
LAST DAYS OP CONDOUOET. 321 
 
 who had charge of a monkey, whilst a young girl 
 went through certain perilous athletic perform- 
 ances on a piece of carpet. A French emigrant 
 who was, one day, looking on with emotion de- 
 picted upon his countenance, said to an English 
 gentleman : " Look there ! there is one of the 
 best families in Britanny." 
 
 On another occasion, at Hamburgh, a piece 
 was announced at the theatre ; it was " Les 
 Chasseurs etla LaitiSre," in which French refugees 
 played certain parts. The manager appeared be- 
 fore the foolights and addressing the public said, 
 " Ladies and gentlemen, it is impossible to give 
 the piece announced this evening, as the young 
 gentleman who was to have played the bear has 
 suddenly left for La Vendee." 
 
ran. 
 
 BIBLIOGBAPHy. 
 
 IT is inconvenient, not to say impossible, for 
 an author to be constantly referring to the 
 authorities upon -wliicli lie rests his facts. In the 
 course of the present volume it would have 
 caused much inconvenience, also, to the reader ; 
 therefore I have given in the following short biblio- 
 graphy, the names of the principal works which 
 I have consulted, relating to this most interesting 
 period of history. 
 
 Brissot de Warville. " M^moires sut la Revolution Fran^aise." 
 
 3 vols. 
 Lafayette. " Memoires, Correspondances et Manuscrits du 
 
 General Lafayette," publics par sa famille. 12 vols. 
 Miraheau. " Memoires sur sa Vie, Louis XVI. et la E^vo- 
 
 lution JJ'ran5aise," publies par son fils. 12 vols. 
 Levasseur. " Memoires sur la Revolution Francaise," (^poque 
 
 de la terreur). 5 vols. 
 
BIBLIOOIUPHY. 323 
 
 BeauUeu. " Essais Historiques, etc." 
 
 UAhhi Georgel. " Meraoires." The author was vicaire- general 
 to the Cardinal de Rohan. 
 
 Prudhomme. "■ Les Eevolutions de Paris." A periodical 
 work ; the author outlived the Eevolution, he was 
 an intimate friend of the unfortunate Camille Des- 
 moulins. 
 
 Bertrand de Moleville. " Annales, etc." We are indebted to 
 him for some account of the prisons and September mas- 
 sacres, from which he escaped most miraculously, by 
 addressing one of the hired ruffians in his native patois. 
 
 Madame Roland. " Mdmoires." Original edition. 
 
 „ ,, ''' Lettres Autographes adress^es a Bancal 
 
 des Issarts." 1 vol. 
 
 Dauhan. " Etude sur Madame Roland, suivie de ses Lettres k 
 Buzot, etc." 1 vol. 
 „ " Memoires de Madame Roland, avec Notes, etc." 
 
 1 vol. 1863. 
 
 Faugere. " Memoires de Madame Roland, ^crit durant sa Cap- 
 tivity." 1 vol. 1863. 
 
 Madame Gampan. " Memoires." English translation. 2 vols. 
 
 Joumiac de Saint Miard. " Relation des Massacres de Sep- 
 tembre." The author is the young officer mentioned by 
 Thiers who escaped through his exceedingly bold conduct 
 before the municipals at the prison. An exceedingly 
 painful little work. 
 
 L'Abb^ I'Enfant (sometimes termed Le pdre VEnfant, con- 
 fessor to Louis XVI.) "Memoires." 2 vols. 18mo. a 
 rare work, 
 
 Barbaroux. " Memoires," (written from a Republican point of 
 view.) 
 
 Meilhan. " Memoires, etc." The author, one of the proscribed 
 Girondists, and afterwards a Senator. In this volume he 
 
 y 2 
 
324 BIBLIOGEAPHT. 
 
 describes his miraculous escape during the Eeign of Terror 
 by wandering on foot from Bordeaux to Bayonne. 
 Bongeart A. " Danton ; Documents Authentiques." 1 vol. 
 „ ,, " Marat, r Ami du Peuple, &c." 2 vols. 
 
 Lamartine {A. de). " Histoire des Girondins." 4 vols. 
 „ „ "■ Les Constituents," 1789. 1 vol. 
 
 BartMlemy. Douze journees de la E^volution. 1 vol. 
 
 Madame d'Abrantes. " M^moires, ou Souvenirs Historiques, 
 etc." 3 vols. 
 
 „ „ " Histoire des Salons de Paris." 6 vols., 
 
 of which the three first only treat of the period embraced 
 by the reign of Louis XVI. 
 
 Allonville. " M^moires Secretes de 1770 k 1830." 2 vols. 
 „ „ " M^moires tir& des Papiers d'un Homme d'Etat, 
 etc." 3 vols. 
 
 Thiers. " Histoire de la Eevolution Fran^aise." English Trans. 
 Bentley's ed., in 5 vols. 
 
 Berryer. " Souvenirs de 1774 a 1338." 2 vols. 18mo. 
 A most entertaining work, written from a Conservative 
 point of view, but loaded with legal technicalities. 
 
 Madame de Stael. " Melanges." 1 vol. 
 
 „ „ " Considerations sur les principaux ^Tene- 
 
 ments de la Revolution Pranpaise." 3 vols. ISnio. 
 
 Joseph Droz. " Histoire dn Regne de Louis XVI." 1 vol. 
 
 Bacourt. " Correspondance entre le Comte de Mirabeau et le 
 Comte Lamark." (1789—1791). 2 vols. 
 
 Michelet. " Le Peuple." 2 vols. 
 
 ,, " Histoire de la Revolution Fran9aise. 
 
 De Lescurle. " La Princesse de Lamballe^ sa Vie et sa Mort, 
 d'apres des Documents In^dits." 1 vol. A recent work. 
 During her short stay in England, the Piincess visited 
 Bath and Brighton where she made many friends and 
 admirers, as well as in London. 
 
 Barante. " Histoire de la Convention Nationale." 6 vols. 
 
BIBLIOGRAPHY. 325 
 
 Capefigue. " Louis XVI. et Diplomates Europ^ens. 1 vol. 
 „ " L'Europe pendant la E^volution Fran9aise." 
 
 1vol. 
 " " Louis XVI, son Administration, etc." I vol. 
 
 Barere. "■ Memoires recueillis par H. Carnot." 4 vols. 
 
 A. Mignet. "■ Histoire de la K^volution Pran9aise," 1789 a 
 1814. This is a popular illustrated work in I vol. 
 
 CUry. " A Journal of the Occurrences at the Temple during 
 the Confinement of Louis XVI." Published at London, 
 1798. This exceedingly painful work^ with two rough 
 illustrations, was translated from the original MS. by Mr. 
 Dallas. It is now very rare. 
 
 General Dermoncourt. " La Vendee et Madame." A roman- 
 tic work. 
 
 Or^goire {A.) " Memoires de I'Executeur des Hautes CEuvres." 
 1 vol. very rare. 
 
 Juste. " Histoire Populaire de la Kevolution." 1 vol. 
 
 Madame du Barri (the French spelling is du Bai-ry). 
 " Memoirs." 4 vols. English translation. This must 
 be considered to a great extent a romantic work ; but is 
 exceedingly interesting when compared with others. 
 
 Etimne Dumont. " Souvenirs de Mirabeau." 1 vol. 
 
 Mdri/. " Andre Chenier." 2 vols. 
 
 H. Hamel. " Histoire de St. Just." 2 vols. 
 
 Le Comte de Rohiano. " Marie Antoinette a la Conciergerie ; 
 Fragment Historique." 1 vol. This gentleman is also 
 the author of an excellent work on Animal Magnetism. 
 
 De Lomenie. " Beaumarchais et son Temps, etc." 2 vols. 
 Paris. Levy, 1855. 
 
 HMcourt. " La E^volution de Thermidor d'apres les Sources 
 Originales et les Documents In^dits." 1 vol. 
 
 Wouters. " Histoire Chronologique de la Ee'publique et de 
 I'Empire, etc. (1789—1815). 1 vol. with maps and 
 plans, to which is added " Annales Napole'oniennes, etc." 
 
326 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Arneth. "■ Correspondance Secrete entre Marie Theresa et le 
 Comte Mercy d'Argenteau avec des lettres de Marie Th^rlse 
 et de Marie Antoinette." 3 vols. 
 
 Grimm. " Correspondance Litt^raire, etc." The entire work 
 can still be purchased through MM. Hachctte for about 
 130 francs. 
 
 Le Marquis de Bouill^. " M^moires, etc." 
 
 General Dumouriez. " M^moires et Correspondance In^dits." 
 2 vols. 
 
 Louis Blanc. " Histoire de la EtJvolution Pran^aise." Belg. 
 edition in 3 vols. 
 
 Alexandre Sorel. " Le Couvent des Carmes et le S^minaire de 
 St. Sulpice pendant la Terreur." Second Edition, 1 vol. 
 Ther fullest and most horrible description is given here of 
 the massacre of the priests on the Ist of September, 1792, 
 in the Carmes. There were 115 victims, among whom 
 were four or five bishops, and some English and Irish 
 named Darby, Darcy, Darden, Goddard, Harrop, Marshall, 
 Moses, Penny, Stewart, Ganellan, Malone, Langan and 
 Ward. 
 
 Condorcet. " M^moires." 
 
 Duclos. "M^moires Secretes sur les regnes de Louis XV. et 
 Louis XVI." The author died on the 26th of March, 
 1772. His well known work " Considerations sur les 
 Moeurs," ranks next to La Bruy^re's " Caract^res." 
 
 B^zanval {Baron de) " M^moires, etc." This gentleman was 
 lieutenant-colonel of the unfortunate Swiss Guards. 
 
 L'AhM Jean Louis Soulavie. " Memoires sur le Eegne de 
 Louis XVI." He also wrote " Memoirs of the Due de 
 Richelieu." Napoleon I. had a very high opinion of the 
 first-named work. 
 
 Hue. "Memoires." The King's attendant, until replaced by 
 
 Cl^ry at the Temple. 
 Cadet de Gassicouvt. " Le Tombeau de Jacques Molay." 1 
 
BIBLIOGRAPHY. 
 
 327 
 
 vol. 1797. A work now rare, in which the author, an 
 eminent chemist, endeavours to determine the influence 
 of Masonic Societies upon the events of the Revolution. 
 
 Anonymous Works. " Memoire Biographique, littdraire et poli- 
 tique de Mirabeau." 12 vols. 
 
 „ „ " Memoires de Fleury de la Comedie Fran- 
 
 gaise, 1757—1820. 6 vols. 
 
 „ „ " Id^e Singuliire d'un bonCitoyen," Paris 
 
 1770. This is a pamphlet attributed to Turgot (before he 
 was called to office^ ; a tirade against the expenses at 
 Versailles at the time of the king's marriage, said to have 
 amounted to twenty millions of francs. 
 
 " Inventaire des Cultures de Trianon," par le Comte de Jaubert, 
 Paris, 1876. A copy exists in the Library of the Academy 
 of Sciences at Paris, presented in 1877 by the Minister of 
 Public Works. 
 
 Taine. "■ L'Ancien Ee'gime." English translation, by John 
 Durand. 1 vol. 1876. A splendid work. 
 
 Jules Glardtie. " Camille Desmoulins^ etc." 1 vol. Trans- 
 lated into English by Mrs. Cashel Hoey. 1876. An 
 interesting and cleiter work. 
 
 Yonge, Professor. " Life of Marie Antoinette." This recent 
 work comprises a sketch history of the Eevolution. It is 
 conscientiously written, and constitutes a valuable work of 
 reference. 
 
 The number of periodicals, journals, pamphlets, 
 and letters, which appeared in Paris, Marseilles, 
 Lyons, &c., in the reign of Louis XVI., and 
 during the period of the Eevolution, almost sur- 
 passes anything that can be imagined. The 
 celebrated Abbe Rive, for some time librarian to 
 the Due de la Valliere, and the collector of 
 
328 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 
 
 some valuable. MSS. tliat got dispersed in so 
 curious a manner after his death, issued no less 
 than thirty-four pamphlets in the single year, 
 1791, in which he died. Besides Prudhomme's 
 journal, mentioned above, there was the " Grazette 
 des Tribunaux" and " L'Assembl^e Nationale," 
 (afterwards known as the " Journal de Perlet") 
 and the celebrated journal of the unfortunate 
 Oamille Desmoulins, " Le Yieux Cordelier ;" to 
 which we could add a list of some forty to fifty 
 others, more or less important in their day. We 
 may mention more paticularly the journal pub- 
 lished under the title of the " Independans," 
 which attained its zenith about the year 1792, 
 the principal writers for which were Suard, La- 
 cretelle, Condorcet, and Madame de Stael. Com- 
 plete collections of these are now very rare, or 
 rather not to be seen at all, and even odd num- 
 bers are difficult to procure in the largest public 
 libraries. Occasionally, however, fragments of 
 them crop up in modern publications, as is the 
 case, for instance, in " Les Cartons d'un Ancien 
 Biblioth^caire," issued at Draguignan in 1875 by 
 Bobert Eeboul, a collection of papers, including 
 Manuscripts, left by Jauffret, the distinguished 
 hbrarian of the Public Library at Marseilles. 
 This institution, which was set on foot as a pro- 
 
BIBLIOGRAPHY. 329 
 
 ject in 1789, but definitely opened only in 1805, 
 now contains upwards of sixty thousand volumes 
 and nearly one thousand MSS.* 
 
 Among the purely scientific works which relate 
 more especially to this period we should mention : 
 Gr. Ouvier's " Rapport sur les progrfes des Sciences 
 Naturelles, depuis 1789 ;" which was presented 
 to the Grovernment on the 6th of February, 1808, 
 and afterwards published at Paris in 1828. 
 Though a very valuable work in many respects, 
 it is a mere sketch throughout, and does infinite 
 injustice to several authors of eminence, such as 
 Charles Bonnet, the great naturalist of Geneva, 
 whose name is scarcely mentioned. Great short- 
 comings are also observed in the Chemical, 
 Mineralogical and Medical sections of this volume. 
 With all these drawbacks, the work which is now 
 become rather rare, is without doubt one of 
 the most valuable contributions to scientific 
 literature. 
 
 Another small volume replete with interest to 
 the student of the history of Science in the 18th 
 century, is entitled " Lettres de M. Alexandre 
 
 * It was from this library that Dumas the elder obtained the 
 loan of the four little volumes " M^moires d'Artagnan" by 
 Courtier de Sandras, published in 1704, from which he took his 
 famous novel " Les Trois Mousquetaires.'" 
 
330 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Volta sur I'Air Inflamable des Marais," translated 
 from the Italian and published at Strasbourg in 
 1778. These letters are addressed to Charles 
 Joseph Campi, who discovered marsh gas. 
 Oampi was an Italian ecclesiastic greatly addicted 
 to scientific observation. They give an accurate 
 idea of the state of physical science during 
 the reign of Louis XVI. A no less important 
 publication in this respect, is the " Journal de 
 Physique de M. I'Abbe Eozier," which appeared 
 for several years, until the editor fell a victim to 
 his aeronautic experiments, precipitated to the 
 earth from a fire balloon which burst into flames, 
 and in which he and a friend had determined to 
 cross the Straits of Dover. The Number for 
 July, 1776 (Vol. VI.) contains a letter by the 
 celebrated Volta on his newly invented Electro- 
 phorus. 
 
 Other works relating to this particularly 
 fertile period of scientific research are given 
 in the Appendix to my little volume on " Phos- 
 phoresence" (1862), and in my work on Meteors, 
 &c., (London, 1867). Ferdinand Hcefer's in- 
 teresting little volume, " La Chimie enseignee 
 par la Biographie de ses Fondateurs," published 
 at Paris in 1865, contains some valuable notes 
 on Lavoisier and his contemporaries. 
 
BIBLIOGRAPHY. 331 
 
 Four excellent volumes of Spallanzani's re- 
 searches were issued many years ago in an English 
 dress, translated from the Italian. The first of 
 these (containing the author's later researches) 
 consist of two volumes, issued in 1789 by John 
 Murray, " No. 32, Fleet Street," London, and en- 
 titled " Dissertations relative to the Natural 
 History of Animals and Vegetables," a new 
 edition corrected and enlarged. The translation 
 is by Thomas Beddoes of Oxford. The other 
 two volumes were issued at Edinburgh in 1803, 
 (having already appeared in French, Paris, 1787) 
 entitled " Tracts on the Natural History of 
 Animals and Vegetables," and comprise the 
 earlier researches (those published as " Sagio di 
 Obs. Microscop.," Modena, 1767, and a few 
 others). This translation is by J. G. Dallyell, 
 published by Creech and Constable of Edinburgh, 
 and Longman and Eees, London. In England, 
 the works of Priestley, Black, Cavendish and 
 others were chiefly read to learned societies and 
 published in their Transactions; Priestley's "Ex- 
 periments and Observations on difEerent kinds of 
 Air," in four volumes, and his " History of Elec- 
 tricity," are among the most important volumes 
 issued at this interesting period of scientific re- 
 search. The original work of Lavoisier, the 
 
332 BIBLTOGBAPHY. 
 
 "Elementary Treatise on Ohemistry," inwhicli 
 Europe saw for the first time with astonishment 
 the entire new system of Chemistry, is entitled, 
 " Traits ^lementaire de Chimie, presente dans un 
 ordre nouveau, et d'aprfes les decouvertes mo- 
 dernes," par A. L. Lavoisier, Paris, 1789, 2 vols. 
 8vo. It was preceded by his celebrated 
 " Opuscules physiques et chimiques," Paris, 
 1773. The " CEuvres de Lavoisier," a magnifi- 
 cent edition of which was issued from the Im- 
 primerie Imp^riale in 1862, constitute a magnifi- 
 cent monument to this unfortunate man. 
 
 The latest work that has appeared in France 
 upon the period occupied by this volume is by M. 
 Domenget, and is published under the title of 
 " Fouquier Tinville et le Tribunal Revolution- 
 aire," Paris, 1878, 1 vol. It is a work full of 
 horrors drawn from authentic sources, chiefly 
 from official documents, and concludes with an 
 account of the execution of that rascal and his 
 principal ascociates. We have remarked that in 
 some older works, the name of this atrocious 
 scoundrel is written " Tainville," and it has 
 been thus spelt in the foregoing pages. Little 
 or nothing appears to be known about the 
 feUow, except that he was originally a thief and 
 a murderer of the blackest type. Nothing that 
 
BiBLioaaAPHY. 333 
 
 we have stated, or even hinted at, in the 
 course of the present volume, can give the 
 faintest idea of the horrible scenes depicted in 
 this little book, -which we mention only as a 
 literary curiosity of an exceedingly disgusting 
 type. Still, it is well that men should, oc- 
 casionally, be made aware of the excesses to 
 which their brutal passions can lead them, even 
 in countries that are generally supposed to be 
 highly civilized. 
 
 In concluding this short bibliographical sketch, 
 I need scarcely inform the reader of its numerous 
 shortcomings, especially as regards the scien- 
 tific literature of the period of Louis XYI. 
 I find it impossible, in a work of this nature, 
 to do even a semblance of justice to this 
 portion of the subject. The numerous and 
 important works of Linnaeus, Labilliardiere, 
 Dolomieu, Benjamin Franklin, Nollet, Buffon, 
 Lavoisier, Priestley, Black, Bergmann, Boer- 
 haave, and many others, would have occupied 
 far more space than could have been afforded 
 here. It was under the influence of all these 
 wonderful literary productions, that the subjects 
 of Louis XVI. appeared to live. The refining 
 
334 BiBLIOGRAPHY. 
 
 influence of literature, and science, and music 
 seems to have been never so strongly developed 
 at any other period — yet, in spite of it, we 
 see the Monarchy and the Government drift- 
 ing into the utmost disorder. But the great, 
 good, and learned works brought to light shortly 
 before, and during the period of which we have 
 been writing, were not read by the public at large, 
 nor even, by the more enlightened section of 
 the public. A few select minds, only, enjoyed 
 them and benefited by them. It was not 
 until some considerable time after the Great 
 Revolution, that the influence of these pro- 
 ductions began to spread and to improve man- 
 kind throughout the whole of Europe. It is 
 to this influence, far more than to the Revolution 
 itself, that must be ascribed the good that 
 appears to have been derived from the latter. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 LONDON : 
 Pi-inteJ by A. Scliulze, 13, Poland Street. (S. & ii.) 
 
Works by the Same Author. 
 
 Familiar Letters on Some Mysteries of Nature, and Discoveries 
 in Science. 
 
 Biographical ShetcJies and Anecdotes of Gelebrated Violinists. 
 
 Meteors, Aerolites and Falling Stars. 
 
 The Utilization of Minute Life, Practical Studies on Insects, 
 Crustacea, Mollusca, Worms, Polypes, Infusoria and 
 Sponges, 
 
 Phosphorescence, or the Emission of Light by Minerals, 
 Plants and Animals. 
 
 La Force Catalytique: Etudes sur les Phenomenes de 
 Contact. (Gold Medal Soc. HoUandaise des Sciences, 
 Haarlem, 1858.) 
 
 Application de eertaines proprietes Optiques des Corps a 
 I'Analyse Chimique. (Gold Medal Soc. Eoy. des 
 So. M^d. et Nat. de Bruxelles, 1868.) 
 
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